City of Shadows (21 page)

“Ready?” Nyx grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“No.” A shiver of draíocht trickled down my spine, or it could easily have been fear.

“Watch for when he drops.”

We readied to run. The ogre swung its tree in a wide arc over its head and then hammered it into an abandoned Rover.

“Go!” Nyx bolted.

She took a running leap at the ogre's thigh. The ogre roared and spun, throwing its massive hand out toward me. I ducked, bounced to my feet, and ran right at it.
Samuel
would be nearby cursing my
mistake.
Running headlong at the ogre was not part of the plan.

The ogre's gnarled face screwed up even tighter. It punched a fist into the earth—a warning—and when that didn't work, it raised the tree up high.

Head down, legs pumping, I kept running.

A staccato hail of gunfire punched through the air. The helicopter dipped low. The ogre bellowed and swatted it out of the air. It went down fast. Screeching metal pierced the air as the helicopter swept across the ground, taking with it anything and anyone in its path. And then its fuel tanks went up with a boom loud enough to shake the air and trip me out of my stride. The ogre forgot me and turned all of its rage on the fire.

Screams, alarms, fires, smoke. I blocked the chaos, focused ahead, and visualized my route up the ogre's back.
I can do this.
I took a running jump and clung onto the rough skin of its leg. Digging my nails into the solid cracks, I climbed.
I'm made for this.

Where the hell was Nyx? The ogre's muscles twitched beneath me. The smell of its hot and rancid flesh burned my nose and clogged my throat. I climbed higher, digging the toes of my boots and fingers into the crevices. By the time I'd reached its shoulders, the ogre—knowing it had gained a passenger—started thrashing around in a circle, clawing at its back. I pulled myself in tight against its skin and clung on while London whirled out of the corner of my eye. Fear froze me in place.
Just a little higher. Don't look down.

It stopped circling—
that's good—
and started retreating from the line of fae, shoving its way through the trees to stomp deeper into the park.

The lake.

The
water.

Oh.

The ogre threw its massive bulk forward and rolled. My heart tried to jump out of my chest. Black lake waters rushed up to greet me. A shock of cold flooded across my face, up my nose and down my throat. Cold inched its way into my clothes. I kicked off the ogre, pushed as hard as my burning thighs allowed, and broke the surface with a gasp. Blue sky and freedom had never seemed so far away.

A mountain moved in front of the daylight, blocking everything. The ogre scooped me up in its cage-like fingers. I scrabbled around, trying to grip my slippery daggers, and saw the creature's mouth gape. Teeth like concrete blocks. Eyes like coal. Fear clutched at my heart and twisted, and all I could think was how I hadn't found Becky. Andrews would never know if she was safe. And I couldn't let that go. I couldn't die here. I wasn't ready.

The ogre peered through its fingers. Its massive eye rolled in its watery socket. A pupil the size of a football widened, focusing on me.

The ogre huffed, blasting me with moist, pungent air. I peered back at it, breaths sawing through my chattering teeth. A shiver rolled over me, not from the cold but one of recognition. And fear: terrible, icy, maddening fear. Tingles passed through my hands—draíocht. I felt what it was feeling. The fear of London, of the noise, the light, the people. And me. It recognized me too, at least, the
me
inside.

It brought its hand closer to its eye and snuffled at the gaps in its fingers, breathing me in.

Sorry, but you don't belong here.
I slashed a dagger across the ogre's palm, parting its leathery flesh.

It
let out a hideous shriek, and in the next second air rushed by me. I reached for something, anything, to grab a hold of and hit the water hard enough to punch air from my lungs. I didn't think of Samuel or Nyx or Arachne. Shay. Reign. They meant nothing. All that mattered was me, and how in the next moment, I might not exist. Entangled in panic and fear, a visceral rage burned so damn cold that it sent its chilling numbness through every part of me.
I do not die here today.
Green vapor—draíocht—whipped around me, giving me buoyancy. The power cocooned me and would probably have saved me had a steel-like hand not clamped around my foot and yanked. The ogre lifted me clean out of the water and dangled me high in front of it. The world swirled.

“Alina!” I heard Nyx but couldn't fix her in the whirling blur of color and light.

The ogre let out a harrowing cry. I hit the water again, this time inhaling lungfuls before finally breaking the surface in time to see the ogre fall face-first into the lake. It lay still.

Waves caused by the fall washed me toward the edge, where I somehow managed to drag my battered body onto the bank before retching up what felt like all of my insides. Only when my body had stopped heaving did I look up to see Nyx striding over.

She looked the same as she had before all of this. Bright-eyed and grinning from ear to ear. “Distract it while I take it down. I like your thinking,” she said between breaths. “Anything broken?”

“Everything.”

“Ah, you're fine.” She grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. “Just a bit damp.” Then she took my hand in hers and squeezed. “Now that's what I call proving yourself, Alina.”

Chapter Seventeen

We had orders to group in the lounge and wait for the general. I had enough time to strip off my wet clothes and find some dry sweats. Numerous cuts and grazes throbbed and burned. I wasn't sure how I'd stayed in one piece, and I tried not to think about it. Especially when so many of the fae had suddenly begun flashing me smiles. It appeared as though all it took to be accepted by the Fae Authority was an old-fashioned fight with an ogre.

Tired and restless, the same old urges plucked at my nerves. To touch. To feel. To feed. Waiting for Kael wasn't helping. I still hadn't managed to corner him. At least, now that his warriors seemed more inclined to welcome my presence, I might be able to get some answers about Becky.

My thoughts drifted to Andrews, and with those thoughts, the need followed. I could have blamed the desire to see him on concern for a friend, but it would have been a lie.

A hush passed through the crowd of warriors. Kael strode through the parting crowd, the soft light muting his silvery eyes, turning them storm gray.

He stopped at the end of his massive table and regarded the fae waiting on his next words. He'd always had a commanding presence, but among his own, he cut a formidable figure. “Everything I'm about to say is restricted information. If I hear of anything being leaked to anyone outside of this room, fae or otherwise, repercussions will be swift and merciless.”

The
straight-faced FA stayed silent. I checked the expressions of those closest to me and found only admiration and respect in their solid gazes.

Where's Samuel? He should be here.
I stretched onto tiptoes and got a good look about the room—no sign of Samuel.

“As we are all very much aware, an ogre found its way into Saint James's Park,” Kael began. “We were lucky the damage was restricted to the confines of the park. But the implications of this, besides the obvious negative impact on public relations, are far-reaching and potentially disastrous to our continued peaceful cohabitation with the people of London.” He paused and scanned the room. Nobody said a word. “There were no ogres in Under. To be entirely sure, I've had a team check Under's catacombs.” Kael's attention briefly snagged on me at the mention of Under. “They are intact,” he said. “The lytch did not come from Under, as we first assumed, and neither did the ogre.” A murmur rippled through the fae.

Nyx eased into a gap beside me. She'd changed out of her leathers into jeans and a padded fur-lined jacket. She acknowledged me with a slight smile, but her lips turned down when she faced the general.

“There's only one place the beasts of Faerie can originate from,” Kael said.

“But that's impossible,” someone called out.

Kael lifted his chin and straightened. “It's entirely possible. We are evidence of that fact.”

The murmuring grew louder. Nyx frowned at me, tucked her thumbs into her jeans pockets and said under her breath, “Faerie. It can't be.”

“But I thought there wasn't enough draíocht here to—” my whisper cut off.

“There are two possible sources.” Kael raised his voice, quietening the restless crowd. “One, the elders are reopening the path between Faerie and Taerra.” I
gathered
Taerra was their name for our world. The crowd erupted. “Two!” Kael boomed. “Someone here, most likely an organized group, has reopened the path to Faerie.”

Shivers raised the fine hairs on my arms. The faces of the fae told the story clearly enough. Fear, panic, anger. Hisses of “
Impossible
”, “
Why?
” “
Dangerous
”, “
Elders
” became full-blown outcries. Kael let it go on, watching and absorbing his people vent their frustration.

“Are you all finished?” he boomed.

The crowd settled but a brittle sense of fear moved through them.

“We need to consider both possibilities,” Kael continued. “The elders haven't woven a path to Taerra for hundreds of years. As far as we know there's no reason for them to do so. They aren't aware we're alive. This is not a purge, or we'd be overrun with Faerie's inhabitants. Considering the atmosphere in London and the dissent among the fae, the most likely source is a small group harvesting enough draíocht to weave their own path.”

“Why?” The cries went up. “There aren't any elders here.” “Suicide.” “How?” “It's not possible.”

Kael weathered the onslaught of questions before lifting a hand, instantly silencing the room. “Whoever they are, they haven't yet succeeded in weaving a stable path, or we'd have more than a stray ogre to deal with. I will discover the source. Until then, double patrols, night and day. Anything suspicious—anything at all—immediately report it to me.” He unrolled two maps of London, a street map and a maze-like map of the Underground.

“We're looking for concentrations of draíocht. The unit which searched Under reported an unusually high level of draíocht near the catacombs.” He pointed at the street map, somewhere close to
the
easternmost bend on the River Thames. “It dissipated just as quickly as they could track it. While we know the catacombs are intact, the beasts
are
restless. Until we discover the source and the motive, be on your guard for any manner of Faerie's creatures. I am expecting the highest level of professionalism from each of you. If we lose the faith of the public as well as our own kind …” He paused, leaving no doubt how serious this was. “We've already been cast out of one home. Let's not allow the same to happen here.” Kael waited a few beats, scanning the crowd as he did. “Dismissed.”

The murmurs turned to noisy chatter in his wake. I followed the general out of the cafeteria into the hallway. “General?”

When he turned, tiredness pulled tight at his features. Fine lines had gathered around his eyes.

“I'd like to thank you for your conduct at the park,” he said. “Had it not been for you and Nyx, the ogre could have proven far more problematic.”

I swallowed, unsure how to take what felt like entirely honest praise from a fae I despised. “Have you thought about what I said, about training me?”

He held my gaze. “After everything you've just heard, that's what you're going to ask me?” He sighed and started walking away.

“Wait, I …” I wanted to ask about Becky, to demand where he'd been and why he was avoiding me, but with the threat of Faerie looming over us, Andrews's missing sister seemed the least of our concerns. Kael had the future of the fae in London resting on his shoulders. The strain of that weight showed in the downturn of his lips and slope of his shoulders.

“Is it true?” I asked. “Could someone be bringing these things through from Faerie?”

His
smile was a shallow curve, but it was the haunted, knowing look in his eyes that concerned me. “Where Faerie is concerned, anything is possible.”

“Who are these elders you mentioned?”

He lifted his chin and gestured for me to walk with him back through the house. I fell into step as he said, “Elder fae are born into powerful bloodlines. They're able to harvest more draíocht than any other fae and to weave it together, giving purpose and form to life. A draíocht concentration focused in one place could link Taerra—here—and Faerie,” he said, a note of gruffness scratching through his voice. “No elders were sent here during the purge, and they do not know we've survived—had they suspected, we'd have been slaughtered long before now.”

“Wasn't kicking you out of Faerie enough?”

“Elders orchestrated the Purge to be rid of us. If they thought for a moment we'd survived, thrived even, they'd have sent the Hunt.” Worry clouded his expression. “Put simply. If the elders knew we lived like this, we'd be dead tomorrow. All of us.” He drew in a breath and steeled himself in the next step. “I suspect we're looking for a disgruntled group working exceptionally close together in order to gorge themselves on draíocht. Someone among them must have knowledge enough to attempt to weave a path. The incident at the park clearly shows they've tried and briefly succeeded.”

Reign had been high on draíocht. Was that the kind of gorging Kael meant? Reign had also said he didn't want to be here if it meant hiding. He
was
hurting, but was it enough to somehow open a path to Faerie?