Echo (Bound to the Fae Book 2) Page 15

  Kicking the guard out of the way, I step into the hallway and in his direction. I only make it a few steps before there’s a searing pain in my leg and I go down, hard. Luce doesn’t even groan, just an unyielding weight pressing me into the ground and adding more pain to the bullet wound in my leg.

  I work my gun out of my pocket while plastered to the floor, twisting and firing off a couple of shots before it clicks, empty. Dorian takes out the last one and starts rushing towards me as I glare.

  “What part of ‘cover me’, did you not understand?” I growl, dragging myself out from beneath Lucien’s unconscious form.

  “They came from both ends of the hallway; I could only shoot one at a time!” He passes his gun to me and grips beneath Luce’s arms, hauling him back to the room while I crawl the last couple of feet. No use putting extra weight on my leg, and I’d rather stay low in case all of the gunfire draws more men to the area.

  “One fucking job,” I snap, my throbbing leg causing me to lash out now that the adrenaline is starting to fade without immediate threats.

  My bitching dies in my throat when I see the gruesome mess lying still just outside of the ring. Logically, I know she has to still be alive, or I wouldn’t be. But it’s hard to believe that with the sight laid out before me.

  “What did they do to her?” The words are whispered with horror. He finishes dragging Luce into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. Just to be safe, I struggle to my feet. “Come on, help me roll this guy in front of the door.”

  He gently eases Lucien to the ground beside Cambria and helps me roll the guard’s corpse over to bar the door. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that there are other men somewhere in this place beyond the ones we saw, and now that I know a human has to watch a fae use a ring to be able to activate one? This would all be pointless if someone followed us like we did to Cambria all those weeks ago.

  “I don’t think I want to know,” he answers, gaze flicking back in her direction. “But fuck, Atlas...be glad you didn’t see that room. It’s like they were trying to take her apart to see what makes her tick.”

  Gently, he scoops her up, cradling her against his chest while I haul Lucien far less elegantly into the ring. “Picture our house in Achlys’ court, alright? That way we don’t screw it up.”

  Before I even see it, I hear the frown and hesitation in Dorian’s voice. “Why’s it different?” I glance at the circle, the typically blue and purple flowers red this time. There’s no charred scorch of earth either, though that could just as easily be the fact that it’s not out in nature where it belongs, but formed on the cement floor of a prison.

  “Yeah, because I’m a damn expert.” Scoffing, I try to focus my racing mind.

  There’s shouting out in the hallway and I shut my eyes, feeling as ridiculous as the first time. Cambria’s taken point ever since, but it made sense for magical things to happen with her. This? Just makes me feel dumb. All I need is a white fluff of a dandelion to make a wish and clack my heels three times. I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that I created it in the first place.

  I picture the small city and its eerie glow. The river, leading the way to the house offered up, the dark fae looking at Cambria with such confidence that she could protect them from creatures that I could only imagine. The bed, actually big enough for all of us to sleep in comfortably at last, and the small lanterns of jars filled with river water strung up around the interior in lieu of lamps or candles.

  And nothing happens.

  “Atlas?” Dorian worries, more so when we hear footsteps just outside the door.

  No, no, no. This has to work, it has to. It wouldn’t have shown up without a reason.

  I sink to my knees, running my fingers over the tiny blooms as if there was a hidden switch I’d forgotten to flip. “God damn it!” I smack my palms on the floor, trying to keep my voice down so as not to draw the attention of the men outside. Dorian’s got to be down to a bullet, maybe two. We’re trapped like rats, and that corpse isn’t going to hold them off forever.

  My hands had only started to scab over and they reopen easily, blood absorbed quickly into the cement. “That’s it,” I whisper as it starts to make sense.

  My heart rate picks up as the sound of people chattering just outside of the door reaches us, and I pull the knife from my pocket, slashing deep into my palm. On hands and knees, I start painting a line outside of the plant life, mirroring the charred ring we’re used to seeing. Each time the blood starts to slow, I open a new gash, near frantic now. The small blooms suck up the offering like they’re dying of thirst, living sponges that keep taking more and more, everything that I have.

  When I’m finally done, I’m a shaky mess, but still, I mirror my pose of when I created it, on hands and knees like a desperate prayer, willing to bleed myself dry to get us out of here. Shutting my eyes despite the door starting to crack open, someone ramming their shoulder into it, I push.

  Everything I have left, every drop of dwindling energy that I’ve managed to cling to, I pour into the ground. I’m not even aware I’m screaming until my voice cracks, blind to everything happening around me. There’s a lurching in my stomach, and if I hadn't already puked my guts out, I would have lost the battle now. My flesh burns, far worse than when we were being branded. Every nerve ending feels like it’s being split apart, one by one, as my skin strains to hold itself together, like my blood wasn’t enough and the ring wants to stake a claim on my entire being.

  I thought I’d known agony before, but it was nothing compared to this. There’s a popping sensation in my head, and suddenly, it doesn’t hurt anymore. I can’t feel a single thing, and when I open my eyes, it’s pitch black.

  “Dorian?”

  There’s a heavy beat of silence as fear starts to settle in as he doesn’t reply and it becomes clear that I’m completely alone.

  Chapter 14

  Dorian

  I turn to the side and vomit as I start to get feeling back into my body, and not a single part of it is pleasant. It was like I was being split apart and all of the jagged shards were jammed back together without rhyme or reason, leaving pieces of me scattered behind. Nothing at all like the rings we’ve been using.

  “Atlas?”

  He doesn’t respond, and I shake my head in a bid to clear it, attempting to get stock of our surroundings though it feels like I just woke up from a decade long nap. When I start to get my wits about me, the first thing I’m aware of is that there’s no added weight, that my arms are empty.

  It helps snap a bit more sense into me, whipping my head to the side, and then promptly regretting it. Clutching my temples with a groan, I try again, slower this time and sighing in relief when Cambria comes into view. Atlas and Lucien though, are nowhere to be seen.

  “Shit.” Glancing around, it’s clear we’re in some forest on the light court side. “I wonder if it’s like, opposite sides of the world, or some magical barrier between courts,” I muse aloud, looking up at the blended, rich colors of sunset. Naturally, she doesn’t answer, though it’s not like she’d even know in the first place.

  She’s stopped bleeding profusely, so whatever searing agony we went through in that ring, at least it cauterized our wounds, lapping up our blood like an offering for passage. That’s not to say either of us are miraculously healed; it’s just less likely we’re going to bleed out now, especially since I was already in far better shape.

  Gently, I brush the hair back from her face. Bruises have already started to form, and her breathing is shallow. Beneath the blood, her stomach is a mess of burns, from a lighter I’d guess, and massive, deep gashes. Her back and arms aren’t much better, and the bullet hole is clear through to the other side of her thigh, but her shorts are still in one piece, thank god.

  Though I don’t feel much like singing anyone’s praises for that small mercy with the state she’s in. Her normally silken hair is matted with blood and sweat, and she’s so goddamn pale.

  But sh
e’s still alive, and I intend to keep her that way.

  Though my back is a tattered mess from the whip and I feel like I could sleep for the next year, I haul her off the ground, adjusting my grip so I don’t aggravate some of the worst wounds. She doesn’t so much as whimper, let alone flinch.

  “Come on, there’s got to be a river or lake around here eventually.”

  I know she isn’t going to respond, but I continue to talk to her regardless. Just because she isn’t awake doesn’t mean her subconscious isn’t absorbing the words. For all I know, she’s locked in a horrific dream, and hearing a familiar voice will be enough to keep the worst at bay.

  Hopefully I can coax her awake before long, though ideally I’ll find a way to patch her up a bit more first. She’s going to hurt like hell when she comes to, and as soon as I realize that her unconsciousness is a blessing, I shut my mouth. Not wanting to be alone is a selfish reason to try and convince her to wake up right now.

  Are we near Elorie’s kingdom, or a different section of the light court? Are there people combing the forests looking for us? How am I supposed to keep us alive? We have no food or supplies and we’re missing the other two.

  Fuck my complaints about being a sidekick; I don’t want the burden of being a main character. Atlas needs to come back so it can be his fault if we all get slaughtered.

  The forest is unnaturally tranquil, not so much as a bird chirping to keep me company. Leaves rustling on the breeze do little to ease my nerves, instead making my skin crawl and look over my shoulder frequently, which just pulls at my abused flesh. Though, it’s far easier to hear the running water of the river long before I see it, and by the time I’m close to the bank, I’m pretty sure I’m going to collapse.

  I need a burger and a solid night’s sleep. I’ll even settle for a nap at this point, but I don’t think my body can take any more abuse in its current condition.

  Once we’re at the edge of the tree line, I gently lay her on the grass before taking my jeans off so that I’ll have something dry to change into after rinsing the blood from our skin. My shirt’s as good as useless at this point, but if I get it clean enough, I can rip off some strips to try and bandage some of her wounds. They might not be actively bleeding, but they’ll be less likely to become infected and heal better if I can band the flesh back together. At least, in theory.

  Cambria’s clothes are such a bloodied mess that I just leave her fully dressed. Picking her back up despite my protesting muscles, I wade into the water. Out from under the canopy of leaves, it’s easier to get a lay of the land. The forest is its own world, seemingly locked away from the petty problems of the fae. Just the animals and peace; though after facing the panther, I’m not sad that they’re hiding. If trudging noisily through their home is enough to scare off the creatures, it’s a good sign there isn’t anything dangerous lurking around besides the fae.

  I may not have seen much of this world, but that waterfall made a lasting impression. We’re several miles past where we climbed out last time, right on the fringe of where Elorie’s kingdom borders the next, but still; far too close for comfort.

  “Of fucking course.”

  Reclining back against the bank to stay as small as possible, it’s far easier to support Cambria in the water. It’s a gentle current, and I’m able to use one arm to hold her afloat, my free hand awkwardly rinsing out her hair and clothes.

  What I wouldn’t give for some soap right now. Or any basic supplies, really. But all I have are the tattered clothes on my back, so that’s just going to have to be enough.

  Climbing out is far worse, not just from the change in pressure and soaked clothes, but it’s incredibly difficult to toss her out onto the bank while remaining careful of her injuries. By the time I’m sitting beside her prone form, my chest is heaving with panting breaths. I give us a few minutes to air dry, or at least, that’s the excuse I’m telling myself.

  “Alright, no fire; wouldn’t want a smoke signal to our location. Harder to find the others, but it won’t matter if they just find our dead bodies. So chaffing it is, but we should get out of sight first.”

  Groaning, I get to my feet, hefting up my sopping wet damsel in distress. “Don’t feel important,” I cynically mutter, chastising myself. “Second fiddle that has to carry the bags. Well great fucking job me, because we have no bags.”

  I sigh, looking down at my jeans that feel a million miles away. When I try to crouch down to pick them up, my knees give out and I fall on my ass. Breathing heavily, I lean against the tree trunk and hiss, only allowing myself a brief reprieve. If I were to go closing my eyes now, I wouldn’t get back up. No, I’ve got to get away from the edge of the woods, deeper into the forest before I let myself collapse for good.

  “This. Sucks.”

  Struggling to my feet, I toss my jeans over my shoulder before scooping Cambria back up. Her head lolls and her arm hangs limp, and just that is enough to stop my pity party in its tracks. It’s a miracle that we’re even alive, and I need to remember that. She endured far worse torture than I did, so I can suck it the fuck up and take care of us until she wakes up.

  Each step is a sheer force of will at this point, but I keep up an internal mantra of, just one more step. Just one. Can’t let my guard down until we find a safer place to pass out.

  Time has little meaning, so I’m not sure how long I trudge through the woods with all of the finesse of a newborn deer, but when a small cave comes into view, I practically weep. The cliff face is about a hundred or so feet high, more uneven terrain than an actual mountain.

  “If there’s a damn fae-bear in there, I’m just going to have to let it eat us. Sound fair?” I ask her, not waiting for a response. “I thought so too. Better a bear than your fake family.”

  Releasing a long, slow breath while I gather the vestiges of my will power, I step inside, hoping for a swift death.

  ***

  “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

  She doesn’t budge, not that that’s anything new. We’ve been out here for about four days, and she still hasn’t woken up. I’m only guessing, because I’m not sure how long I actually slept that first night. It could have been a night or two for all I know, but eventually the gnawing in my stomach forced me awake. Still sore as hell, but it’s more manageable at least.

  I drop the berries I brought back on the makeshift plate, which really isn’t anything more than a pile of leaves. Every time I go out I check another direction, searching for anything identifiable enough to risk eating. The mushrooms I avoid like the plague; either I’d end up poisoned, on a bad trip, or knowing this place, teleported right into the Queen’s dungeon.

  Sitting beside her head, I gently rearrange Cambria so that she’s using my thigh as a pillow and pry her bottom lip open. One at a time, I pinch the small, multicolored berries above her lips. The juice trickles into her mouth, offering at least a little bit of sustenance to keep her alive. It’s not much, but until she wakes up, I can’t risk carrying her and trekking across the country.

  I only have two bullets left, and I wouldn’t have a hope of hitting anybody while juggling her as well. But her color is starting to look better; if you ignore all of the bruises, burns, and scabs. She mentioned her wings regenerating several times as a kid, so I have to hope that means she’ll wake up soon, and when she does, the new scars won’t be permanent. Lord knows she has enough already.

  Now that she’s completely drained and unconscious rather than asleep, that perpetual glamour she’s kept in place to hide her back from us has fallen away, revealing a multitude of upraised scars crisscrossing over her body in more places than just her back like she claimed. She’s tried so hard to hide the evidence of her abuse, whether it’s from embarrassment, or to save us from the pain of facing the aftermath. She’s too good for this world, and has endured far more than most people could stand before going mad.

  So she embraced the madness and forced it to work for her so she could survive and forge a semb
lance of a life.

  “For not being a princess, you’re sure acting like one.” I grab another berry. “Getting your sex slave to hand feed you, an evil queen after your head, and semi-comatose? If you get some wildlife to start doing your bidding, I’m never going to let you live this down.”

  My voice tapers off, genuine fear barely kept in check. But if Cambria’s taught me anything, it’s how to shove my feelings into a tiny box and chuck them into a corner to be forgotten. She makes switching personas seem as easy as changing your clothes, like it doesn’t kill a little piece of your soul every time you have to laugh and pretend everything will be fine, knowing better.

  If that mental dam ever really burst, I don’t think anyone would survive it, especially her. I’m all for coping mechanisms, but that brief crack in her mask when she was drugged just shows a taste of what’s buried. At this point, we’re not even patching the fissures; we’re slapping stickers on them and crossing our fingers.

  Carefully, I lift her head and slide out from under her, easing her back to lie on the ground. “I’m going to go top off our water, alright?”

  Scooping up the beveled stone I spent a solid day grinding into the world’s ugliest bowl, I head towards the river. The path is becoming too familiar for my liking, not wanting to start looking at this place like home. But since it is despite my frequent objections, I pick up pretty quickly that something’s off as I approach the river.

  So as not to draw attention to the fact that I’ve caught on, I stay low, crouching down to dip the bowl in the water. Turning my head, I fake a sneeze in an excuse to look to one side.

  There’s nothing, so when I stand, I pivot the other direction, but that stretch of forest is empty as well. Holding the bowl in one hand, I tuck my other in my pocket, flicking off the safety, but not withdrawing the gun yet.