Chapter 16

DARBY

Alarge beastling slings Anita's unconscious form over his shoulder, and dread sinks its claws into my chest at seeing her limp body. When the feral creature turns toward the woods, fear plows through my gut like a fist, and instincts warn me that if I let her out of my sight, I will never see her again.

I'm so distracted, I barely duck in time to avoid taking a fistful of claws to the face. They are lethally sharp and could have easily pulled my skin off with a single swipe. Needing to finish the fight so I can go after Anita, I stand still and wait for my opponent to come for me.

Though I can hold my own in normal hand-to-hand combat, I don't stand a chance against beastlings. I'm not a defensive mage, able to sling spells and curses at an opponent. I'm not as strong as the others on the team. I can't shift into a hellhound, I can't turn anyone to stone or poison them with a touch, and I sure as fuck can't turn myself into smoky vapor and disappear, but that doesn't make me weak.

Get me in front of a computer screen, and I can slay any foe. I'm well aware of my physical disadvantages in a proper fight, but that doesn't mean I'm not deadly in my own way.

Many people foolishly underestimate me.

They forget technology often goes hand in hand with electricity.

When birdbrain lunges for me, I clamp my hands around his beak, then draw down hard and fast on every bit of energy in his body. He jerks and shudders, then he flops to the ground, twitching but unable to move otherwise.

A body needs electricity to function. The brain is just a large computer. Take the power away, and they drop into a coma like the guy on the ground. Prolonged contact would have taken him offline permanently. I could have electrocuted him, but that takes too long to build up enough charge, and I'm conscious of Anita getting farther and farther away with each second that passes.

I turn toward the guys, taking a step to help, then glance over my shoulder to see Anita and her attacker disappearing into the trees.

"Go," Porter orders, his chest heaving as he dodges a fist full of claws, the big man never taking his eyes off his opponent. It doesn't surprise me that he knows everything that's going on around him. When a second man comes for him, I grit my teeth, clenching and unclenching my hands to keep from joining the fight. Knowing he can protect himself better than Anita, I whirl and do as I'm told.

Though I'm fast and light on my feet, I'm not nearly as fast as Cassius, and I curse when I'm barely able to keep up with Anita's kidnapper. I watch as her arms and hair sway with every step and swallow hard at how tiny she looks against the monster's back.

The man is moving fast, uncaring of the woman carelessly tossed over his shoulder. Branches and twigs claw at her, and I have no doubt she'll be covered in welts and bruises by morning.

By the time I get close enough to reach her, I notice the man is covered in tiny, brownish green scales, and I mentally curse. It's like fucking body armor, and I don't doubt that one blow would shatter every bone in my hand.

The thought of her facing off against the man all by herself has anger boiling in my blood.

She never stood a chance.

Wanting retribution, my fingers itch to touch him and drop the fucker, but I fear my abilities won't have any effect on him.

I need to touch flesh, not a hard shell, so I'm forced to keep my distance for now and just follow.

I refuse to gamble with her life if I'm wrong.

Women have an equal chance of being born mage or beastling. They're not prized in our culture…so why would they target Anita?

No one should have known she was with us.

No one could have known we were going to investigate the crime scene except MID.

That means either they were watching us.

Or worse, the killer who is leaving mutilated and magically desiccated bodies lying about willy-nilly sensed Anita was near and decided to make his move.

But why would either use wildlings to do their bidding?

The only thing I can deduce is that they are easy to blame and no one will question it if they take the fall for the crime.

The vegetation thickens, and since I don't have armor to protect me, my progress slows to a goblin's pace. By the time I finally wrestle my pants away from a rather thorny vine and look up, my quarry is gone. My heart threatens to explode in panic, and I whirl, frantically searching in every direction.

But it's like they vanished.

I sink my hands into my hair in frustration, trying not to let my panic consume me. Searching around me, I nearly sag in relief when I find a trail of broken branches. Careful not to lose the path now that I found it, unsure I'll be able to find it again, I take my time, even though my instincts scream at me to hurry.

If I hadn't been paying such close attention, I might have missed the pit in the ground—that or broke my neck when I fell into it. I pull up short, then crouch, cursing that I don't have the ability to see in the dark.

Taking a deep breath, I drop through the hole in the ground without hesitation, calling myself all kinds of a fool, but the idea of giving up and leaving Anita to her fate is unacceptable.

Somewhere along the way, she became important to me. While Anita is tough, she's also more fragile than she wants to admit. She isolated herself to keep safe, and my heart aches for her meager, solitary existence.

I can commiserate.

As a tech'er, I'm doomed to suffer the same fate. I'll eventually lose interest in life when I can no longer resist the lure of the machines.

Until I met Anita, I didn't realize there was an alternative.

I desperately want that future. Anita just has to survive long enough for me to show her everything that she's been missing.

The instant I find her, I'm determined to show her that she's mine.

ANITA

My stomach goes weightless, and I startle when it feels like I'm being dropped from a great height. I don't even have time to brace myself before my head smacks against the ground hard. Air rushes out of me, and my chest feels like a dragon is standing on it. I try to gather my thoughts, but the painful thud in my skull makes that nearly impossible.

I groan, struggling to stay conscious.

Every time I blink, I'm greeted by inky darkness.

When the clank of a gate being slammed shut reaches me, I lift my head. With blurry vision, I can barely make out that I've been tossed into some sort of cage. After a few more seconds, my brain finally processes that it's not my vision that's dark…I'm actually in a fucking dungeon.

Pushing myself upright with shaky arms, I lean against a dirt wall at my back and gingerly probe the wound along my face. I wince, then grimace when it feels like my whole face is on fire.

The last thing I remember is a fist to the face…then nothing.

The guys!

I jerk upright, frantically searching the darkness for any sign of them, and recoil when it looks like I'm in a dungeon of some type. The walls, floors, and ceiling are all stone and dirt, little more than a hovel. It doesn't really give off welcoming vibes, and I eye the ceiling warily when dirt trickles down like rain.

Not comforting at all.

While I would love to start digging for my freedom, I suspect the ceiling would cave in on me before I got too far.

Cages line the dark interior, three on each side, and I note that only half of them are full. Thankfully, most of the other occupants are some distance away. Maybe they placed us apart to keep us from working together to escape, but I suspect it's more to keep the prisoners from killing and eating each other. Though the air smells mainly of dirt and moisture, the scent underneath is unmistakable—blood.

I crawl closer toward the cell door when the man across from me speaks with a low, guttural voice. "Don't touch the bars if you don't want your brain to be scrambled."

I shiver at the husky sound. It's so thick with menace that I sink my hands into the dirt to keep from recoiling. When I peer through the bars, I'm locked in place by the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. They pierce the darkness, while everything else remains wreathed in shadows.

Squinting through the dim light, I can scarcely make out his hulking shape. He's big, no doubt easily able to take care of himself. I don't get the impression that he means me harm, but who the fuck knows in this place.

Heart pounding in my throat, I give him a nod of thanks and check out the other occupants. One looks to be a wolf that caught mange, a constant rumble emerging from his beastly form. Long strings of drool drip from his fangs and mats the fur of his chest.

Yeah, I can already tell we're not going to be besties.

Another cage contains a girl.

I say girl, but I use the term loosely. On closer inspection, she appears more like an insect than human. She's tiny, no more than four feet tall, and looks like a light breeze would knock her over. She should look childlike, but there is a meanness to her that dispels that thought immediately.

Maybe she descended from what the myths call fairies, but she was crossed with the wrong species somewhere along the way. Delicate, insect-like wings stick out of her back, but they are wilted, the edges looking a little melted.

Her skin has a light green hue, almost making her resemble a rotting corpse. Her bulging, bug-like black eyes dominate her face, and when she flashes a hostile smile in my direction, serrated teeth issue a warning all on their own, one that says not to fuck with her.

I quickly avert my gaze. The girl's breathless chuckle echoes in the confined space like dozens of insects hissing, and I can't contain my cringe.

When the other cells appear empty, I sag in relief.

The guys escaped from being captured.

I refuse to even consider that they might have been killed.

After years of being held captive by my family, I'm not one to sit on my ass and wait for fate to happen. Fate is a fickle bitch at the best of times. If I want a different future, then it's up to me to change it.

I reach toward the bars, my fingers hovering just out of reach, instantly feeling the crackle of energy snap around the metal. My loving family used all kinds of wards and security systems to try to keep me contained over the years.

After time and a lot of determination, I learned every system has weaknesses.

I also learned that I'm able to withstand a lot of pain in the process.

As I've aged, so have my powers.

They've grown stronger.

I have my cousin Stuart to thank for knowing the dangers and limitations of what my body can withstand. My loving parents gave my cousin permission to do whatever he wanted to me, just short of killing me.

Now I know why.

I'm the sacrificial lamb.

Kill me, and they'll lose all the lovely power they've accumulated over the years. Demons are not known for their forgiveness and generosity if their contracts are broken.

While my family might be sadists, they have taught me important lessons over the years—how to fight back, when to be silent and observe, how to endure pain, never to trust anyone else, and most importantly, how to survive.

I suspect getting out of this situation will take all my skills.

It's time to pull a Houdini before my captors return or before the guys leave without me.

I've read up on the borderlands. I don't have the skills to survive in this place without help. While beastlings and mages aren't at war, tension between the groups is high at the best of times.

A lone mage in beastling territory?

I might as well roll in catnip and ring the dinner bell.

Scanning my body, I notice the many cuts and bruises, then I push my mind deeper until I sink into my flames. While they are not at full power yet, they eagerly answer my call. My little nap, while unintentional, was enough for my abilities to come back online.

As long as I don't push myself too hard, my magic is functional.

I roll my shoulders, then twist my head from side to side until my neck cracks. Next, I blow out a heavy breath, making sure I don't have any air in my lungs. You can't scream if you don't have any air—another nifty trick I learned from my family.

I reach through the bars, careful not to touch the metal. The static is stronger, feeling like bugs crawling all over me. Without giving myself time to second-guess my decision, I slam my hand over the lock.

Fire erupts through my nerve endings, and not the good kind. Pushing the pain aside, I grit my teeth and call for my own flames. Metal heats, then sputters as my hand gradually gets hotter and hotter. My skin looks translucent, my inner flames making them glow red like when you put a flashlight underneath your fingers.

When the metal softens, becoming malleable, I sink my fingers into it and rip out the locking mechanism. Holding liquid metal hurts a little, like placing your hand over a candle for a minute too long.

Pulling back, I swiftly drop the lock, then shake my hand. Heated metal flies in every direction. Allowing the metal to cool, then peeling it off later hurts like a bitch. With that in mind, I run my hand against the stone walls, removing as much as I can. It doesn't cling to me, and I allow my flames to dim as I scrape the last of it off.

I'm shaking and slightly breathless by the time I'm done.

Yeah, I'm still not fully recovered yet, but playing with the flames settles the unease in the pit of my stomach that my abilities might have been damaged after so much abuse. With shaky legs, I reach for the door but stop when I get a good look at the occupant in the cell across from me for the first time.

My first impression is one of pure, deadly beauty.

He's a massive snow leopard in human form.

Intense blue eyes pin me in place, unblinking and unmoving, giving me time to observe him. Though he's massive, I can tell he's been here a while. His fur is dirty and matted, his frame a little gaunt for his size. I wait for my instincts to warn me that a predator is near, but my stupid human self sees a fluffy kitty it wants to cuddle.

I shake my head at my own foolishness, then I walk toward the cell door, lift a foot, and kick it open. What remains of the metal crunches, then snaps, and the door pops open with a screech and a muted bang. I walk out of my cell when a muted rumble comes from the snow leopard.

He waits until I look at him before speaking. "You have no reason to trust me, but the chances of you escaping the tunnels without assistance are slim. Help me escape, and I'll take you with me when we get free. You have my word."

It's stupid, but I actually believe him.

I'm not sure if it's the timbre of his voice, the quiet desperation in his eyes, or the slight bow to his head, but the thought of leaving him behind to suffer his fate alone is repugnant.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I wave my hand in a silent order for him to stand back. Just before my hand can touch the lock, I pause and narrow my eyes. "Don't make me regret my kindness."

Without waiting for him to respond, I release my breath and slam my hand down on the lock. I have to do it fast, because if I think about the pain, I'll hesitate, and it will only draw it out longer.

My power immediately flares, my flames licking around my hand and up my wrist. As the heat increases, the air ripples around me. Electricity burrows under my skin, the pain biting deeper this time because my nerves are already raw from previous exposure.

It doesn't take long for the metal to heat, and I don't hesitate to sink my hand into the lock and yank it out. As I step aside and work to get the metal off my skin, the cat-man kicks the door open, the force nearly ripping the damn thing off its hinges.

I tense as he steps out of his cell, warily waiting for him to make his move. When he remains standing in the hallway, motionless but for his heaving chest, I release the remnants of the fire lingering in my veins.

"What about me?" The girl practically floats as she edges closer to the door and points to the lock, turning her big, almost guileless eyes in my direction. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?"

I hesitate, battling my first instinct to just leave her, but then I remember how many times I wished someone would have rescued me.

How different my life could have been.

I look at the cat-man, then cock my head to the side in silent question.

His lips peel back, revealing a very large double set of fangs, and a near soundless snarl vibrates the air. I touch my sternum in awe when the rumble resonates in my chest. "The choice is yours, but she is equally liable to thank you as she is to stab you in the back."

The girl doesn't protest the accusation, but I swear her hair wilts slightly, acting almost like antennas. She narrows her eyes, the inky darkness in the black orbs giving off a menacing vibe. "What's to stop me from screaming and giving away your escape?"

The leopard-man shifts, his claws clicking into view from his paw-like hands, and I gulp a little. The insect must have some sense of self-preservation because she immediately flees to the back of her cage, her wings fluttering in agitation.

"I can help you." She holds out a beseeching hand. "I can communicate with the insects around me. After months of being underground, your senses are muted. My insects can tell us who's coming our way and also give us our best chance for escape."

I walk toward her, taking care to stay out of reach of the snarling, drooling mess of the deranged werewolf. I stop in front of her cage, making no move to release her. "If you betray us, you'll be the first person I kill. Understand?"

She pushes away from the wall, standing straight and proud, her chin raised. "Crystal. I'll get us topside, but that's it."

Good enough.

That's probably the best I would get anyway.

With a nod, I start the process over once again. The insect retreats, huddling against the cool dirt wall, cowering away from the heat.

It takes longer this time, my powers waning.

By the time I'm done, I'm panting from the exertion. The flames leave me abruptly, and I shiver, not used to feeling the cold. I curl and uncurl my hands, my fingers stiff and sore, as if I'd just shook hands with an overeager rock troll.

Darkness swims around me, my head feeling woozy, and I shake it away, refusing to admit to any weakness. If they think I can't hold my own weight, then they might leave me behind, and I can't take the risk.

Leopard-man reaches over my head and wrenches the cell door open, then he steps back, careful to keep himself between me and the insect. Heat radiates from him, and I sway toward the comforting warmth. A movement from my right snaps me back to awareness. The girl pushes away from the back of her cell, and a blush fills my face when I realize I'm only inches away from snuggling up against the man like he's a cuddly teddy bear.

I hastily step back, doing my best not to look at him, cursing that my emotions are written on my face for anyone to see. My gaze clashes with the girl's…just in time to see her shove a large black beetle into her mouth.

Even from a distance, the crunch is audible, and I swallow the bile clawing up my throat. When she smiles, the beetle wiggles in her mouth, then her teeth clamp down, and its juicy insides squirt across her lips.

The crunch has nausea swirling in my gut. A stick-like leg is caught between her teeth, and I shudder, saliva pooling in my mouth as I struggle not to puke. Not one to be intimidated, I lift my chin. "Is that considered cannibalism?"

Instead of being offended, she chuckles, then licks away the chunky remains of the beetle and swallows. "It's the circle of life. We do what we must to survive." She saunters forward with a spring in her steps, then pauses at the entrance of her cell. Her creepy smile is back in place, her black eyes liquid pools of darkness that reflect my image back at me. "Shall we go?"

I grit my teeth to resist the urge to retreat, swearing I can almost smell the stench from the beetle she just ate. "Good idea. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

She practically flounces away, her wings fluttering happily behind her. I keep my distance, hoping I didn't just make a mistake that will get us killed.