Page 88 of Unraveling Fate

Reyna just shook her head. A howl reverberated through the building, and they both whipped their heads towards the sound. Cadenza took off running, and Reyna followed as she made a hard right down a hall of rehearsal rooms.

One of the doors burst open, and a guard flew through the air to crash into the wall. A tall, red-haired man stalked out of the room and lifted the crumpled guard from the floor by the throat, a snarl rippling from his lips. Reyna’s breath caught as the red-haired man’s teeth elongated and sharpened. Drostan was the only other person she’d seen shift or even get close to it.

“He will not taste very good, mind.” A second man, dark haired, not quite as tall, leaned against the doorframe. The red head growled in response, and the guard flailed, eyes bugging.

“Ruairi, Cyrus!” Cadenza called. “You’re ok!”

The dark-haired man looked over with a smile. “Ah, Cadenza, it’s been so long. You’re looking well. And you must be Reyna Weyland. Cyrus Norroway. A pleasure.” He shook her hand like they had all the time in the world.

“Not that pleasantries aren't great and all, but we need to go,” Reyna said. “Like now.”

“Of course. This misinformed gent”—he pointed to Ruairi’s captive—“insisted we wait for you here, but we got tired of waiting, didn’t we, Ruairi?”

A lone guard barreled around the corner, fist raised. Reyna stepped in, landed a jab on his nose, and he tumbled to the floor.

Cyrus whistled. “Oh ho! Lovely. He’ll be out a while.”

Reyna shook out her hand, expecting it to hurt, but stopped when she realized it didn’t. She stared at her hand and the man on the floor.

Interesting.

“Cyrus, we need to go,” Cadenza insisted.

“Right.” Cyrus clapped his hands together. “Ruairi, if you would, please.”

The taller brother shrugged and tossed aside his victim. He closed his eyes, steepled his fingers.

“What is he doing?” Reyna asked. The shouting grew louder down the hall. “We have to?—”

Cyrus held up a hand. “Wait for it…”

A groan rolled under the floor. A wrenching crack split the air, and a whoosh echoed from the hall, followed by cries of dismay. Water rushed around the corner, splashing around Reyna’s bare feet. She gathered her skirts out of the flood and peeked into the other hall to find a geyser exploding out of the floor. The flow bent in mid-air at a ninety-degree angle, knocking their pursuers to the ground like a fire hose.

She traded looks with Cadenza, neither of them speaking.

“Well, come on, then,” Cyrus said, gesturing to an emergency exit door. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

The greenroom door banged open,slamming into the wall with a crunch. Canon looked up from the couch, where he’d been pretending to check poll numbers on his phone, to see Vasilios storm through the door. Knowing this was where his former mentor would expect to find him, Canon had stayed in the greenroom and done his best to ignore both the sounds of the chaos backstage, and the flaming hole of worry burning through his chest.

Cadenza was out there. In the middle of all the shouting, the gunshot noises, and what had sounded suspiciously like ruptured pipes.

Reyna’s with her. Reyna’s a Guardian. Probably by this time they’ve found Taran’s brothers too. This is the best place formeto be to help her.

“Hey, Vasilios.” He waved, removing the earbuds he’d put in so Vasilios wouldn’t wonder why he hadn’t investigated all the noise.Nothing to see here. Just me, playing a game you know nothing about.

Vasilios pulled up short, then smoothed his hair back and bared his teeth in a smile.

“Canon. Have you seen either Ms. Cavalieri or Ms. Weyland? I have yet to offer my congratulations on their performances.”

“I think they headed home already. Drostan’s boys were tired from the flight, and it’s a three-hour drive.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Vasilios sat on the couch next to him.

“What happened to your face?” Canon arranged his features in an expression of concern. Inwardly he smirked. A long gash ran from Vasilios’s forehead to his cheek. Reyna must have really gotten her claws into him.

“Nothing, I ran into something backstage.” Vasilios pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the wound. “Canon, you did very well tonight, but I want you to go back to Thomas all the same.”

“Again? He made it pretty clear last time he didn’t want to help me.”