Still laughing, the general reared back and kicked the small, motionless body of a young werewolf. In careless malice. In utter disregard for the loss of some family’s child, for the snuffing of a sentient life, for an entire future that the blank-eyed werewolf pup would never experience now.
The human walked away, his uniform crisp, his stride jaunty.
And the fae leader, he—
He looked back at her. Then smiled slowly, his satisfied grin stretching grotesquely wide.
“Why, hello, darling. There you are.” He inclined his head, a courtly gesture of mocking politeness. “I’m on my way.”
His wings, the same tarnished-silver hue as his hair, snapped open, and he was gone.
The rush of power diminished slowly, moment by moment. Dimly, she grew aware of her physical body. Of her sobs of helpless grief and fear echoing in some unknown room.
Once she was back to full consciousness, she knew what was going to happen next. By sheer chance, she managed to grab a discreet bedside trash can before her stomach entirely revolted. Every time she thought she was finished and pushed herself upright, though, coppery warmth slipped down the back of her throat, choking her and causing her to heave once more. And when she lurched forward again, hanging her head over her makeshift bucket, blood splattered all over Hugh’s pristine monogrammed sheets.
Miserable beyond words, she only sobbed harder at the sight.
Had the fae leader trulyseenher? Or was her vision a simple portent of looming danger? A warning that her identity would become known if she didn’t exercise more caution?
But how was that possible when oracles couldn’t predict their own futures?
Once her stomach settled, she blearily raised her head from the trash can and forced herself to crawl out of bed, wash up, and change the sheets with trembling hands. It was still early when she finished, so she weakly pulled on a fresh set of pajamas and collapsed atop the mattress once more.
She lay there for a long time, wide-awake, doing her best not to think about her vision or its implications. Her extreme fatigue eventually overcame her fears, though, and she dropped back into blessedly dreamless and gloriously deep slumber.
Hours later, she abruptly woke again for reasons she couldn’t immediately pinpoint.
Then her nose twitched, and she coughed a little.
What was that smell? Hugh’s usual scent was a cozy campsite blaze, but this was…
She raised her head from the pillow and finally noticed the obvious.
Holy fuck, his apartment was onfire. Faint tendrils of smoke curled around the top edges of the guest room door and hovered near the coffered ceiling even though no alarms had sounded.
There was no way in hells Hugh would fail to ensure his smoke detectors functioned correctly. The fire couldn’t be an accident.
Still weak from her earlier vision, she rolled off the bed and landed hard on the floor, her legs collapsing beneath her. Fine.Better air down there anyway. Her stomach roiling with renewed queasiness, she shuffled on her hands and knees toward the door, which was so far away. For someone moving as slowly as she was,toofar away. But she kept doggedly crawling, every limb shaking, because no way those battlefield assholes were going to win, not if she had anything—
Footsteps. Loud. Rapid.
Oh, shit, that fae fucker had said he was on his way. She had no weapons. Nowhere to hide. No way to overpower him in her current state of helplessness.
The door burst open, slamming against the wall, and she jerked and gasped and began coughing helplessly in the sudden rush of smoke. It stung her eyes, obscuring the identity of whoever was rushing toward her, shouting something.
“No!” She thrust out her palms as he neared, as if that could possibly ward him off. “Leave me alone!”
The intruder halted mere inches from her huddled form. “Gwen?”
Haziq. That was Haziq, frantic and wide-eyed, staring down at her. Squatting and tugging at her with strong hands, doing his best to help her stand.
She staggered to her feet with his assistance, and his iron bar of an arm across her back helped support her and lead her out of the bedroom. As they hobbled toward salvation, she spared one glance backward. Through the thick, gathering smoke, the flames flaring and licking upward from Hugh’s living room couch at the far end of the apartment were barely visible. But his home’s cozy temperature had turned to sauna-like heat, the stench of burning chemicals singed her nose, and the crackle of fire couldn’t be mistaken.
Together, she and Haziq stumbled out of the smoke-filled apartment. As soon as they surged through the discreet door to the emergency stairs, her ears sort of…popped. In a heartbeat, that ominous crackle disappeared beneath a near-deafening avalanche of sound. Every other smoke alarm in the building seemed to be functioning just fine, if the earsplitting clamor served as any indication. Hugh’s noise insulation must be excellent. Maybetooexcellent.
No other apartment appeared to be ablaze either, from what she could tell on their halting journey down the stairs. But if the fire was allowed to spread much longer, who knew?
At long last, she and Haziq emerged into the crisp winter air, where sirens from approaching fire engines had finally begun wailing in the distance. Hugh’s neighbors stood in shell-shocked clusters across the street, some of them complaining of the early-morning inconvenience, others calling insurance companies or family members on their cell phones.
