City of Shadows (5 page)

A make-do camping bed butted up against the type of shabby-chic dresser distressed by age, not interior design. Initials had been scratched into the walls, and where the paint hadn't yet worn away I caught glimpses of color. It was just a room, like any other in Under. I'd once had an apartment, a job as a trainee reporter, a life. But that life had been fake. A cover story for the construct. Now all I had was one room, no windows, and nothing to call my own.

I dressed and raked my fingers through my wet hair, drawing it back from my face so I could inspect my reflection for any signs of wear and tear or fading-away-ness. I didn't know if normal people looked for signs of decay, but I had it down to an art. Reign assured me I wouldn't blink out of existence, that there would be signs, like before. I'd get sick, disoriented, forgetful. But he hadn't quite looked me in the eye as he'd told me not to worry.

Satisfied I had a few more hours of breathing left, I strode from my chamber and resumed my search for Reign. He'd have to hear me out about the general. He'd probably drone on about my recklessness. He certainly wouldn't like the fact I'd seen Andrews. I shored myself up for the inevitable lecture about learning to take draíocht. Just as long as we were talking, that would be something. As for Kael's ultimatum, we'd figure something out together, like before.

I took a left at a junction, strings of fairy lights lighting the tunnel ahead. My steps had grown lighter in recent weeks. I'd noticed other slight changes too.
While
lying awake in the dark seeking signs that I might not make the morning, I'd hear the rumble of trains and the buzz of electrical cables. When I'd taken Andrews's draíocht it had
changed
me. The more I behaved like the fae, the more fae-like I became. I wasn't yet sure if that was a good or bad thing.

A shaft of light sliced across the tunnel ahead, seeping from a gap at the bottom of Reign's chamber door. Flutters patted low in my stomach. Nerves, mostly. Or so I told myself. I was about to push the door open when female whispers brushed my ear. Reaching for the latch, my hand froze.

I've missed you
…

Shay!

My elation didn't last. The whispers said more than words, they spoke of intimacy. I pressed my hand to the wall beside the door and peered through the gap.

Reign sat back on his tattered couch, shirt open, revealing a glimpse of the lightly bronzed chest I'd often fantasized about touching. He'd draped one arm across the back of the cushions. His other hand gripped Shay's thigh while she straddled him. Reign had hiked her white silk dress high up her thighs. She'd thrown her pale shoulders back, and her waterfall of platinum-blond hair spilled around her.

The flutters in my stomach turned to rocks.

Undulating candlelight licked over them both, casting shadows that danced about the room. I blinked, heartbeat loud over my thoughts. Reign's beautiful eyes burned with lust and drank in every stunning inch of her. And she relished his gaze, lips curled into a voluptuous smile.

She
bowed forward and captured his mouth with hers. Riding her hand up his chest—his face. She sank her fingers into his hair and held him still. I
had
kissed him like that; as though starved of him. I knew what it felt like, what
he
felt like, hard and soft at once; how he tasted, sweet and forbidden.

I swallowed and closed my eyes.
I should go
… But I didn't move. Their shared breath and the rustle of clothing were the only noise. That, and the whispers. She told him how she loved him, how she'd been lost without him. She'd
missed him
. Over and over; the same words I'd wanted to say to him.

Turn away
…

I opened my eyes, feeling the burn of unshed tears. He'd cupped her behind, and hauled her forward, grinding her against him. He sucked in a hiss through his teeth and pushed off the back of the couch. His kisses fluttered at her neck. How many times had I imagined what it would be like to be touched like that; for his lips to brush whispers against my skin? She bowed her head and nipped at the spider tattoo low on his neck. The very place I'd dreamed about swirling my tongue.

Walk away, before it hurts too much.

He clamped her by the waist and turned her onto her back in one quick movement. She hooked a leg around his hip and held him close. He reared up and tore off his shirt, only to fall on her with renewed hunger. Warm candlelight pooled in the smooth arch of his lower back and licked over taut muscles. Shay dug her nails into his biceps and raked hard, eliciting a deep, basal groan from Reign. A groan the likes of which I'd never heard from him. A sound born of need.

I swallowed and pulled away from the door, shutting out the sounds from inside. It was fine. Everything was fine. I walked back the way I'd come, tripping
over
a few unseen obstacles and stumbling against others until I'd staggered into my dull little chamber and closed the door behind me.

I
touched my face with my fingertips, surprised to find tears there.
Everything is fine.
With a few angry swipes, I brushed the silent salty droplets off my cheeks and glared at the girl in the glass: Alina, the American girl, the monster's dream. Everything
was
fine. I didn't need Reign for what was to come. I didn't need anyone. I could do this alone.

Chapter Four

I woke gasping for breath, my vision blurred by blood and the flash of blades, with the queen's dying screams echoing inside my head.
Dreams. Just dreams.
I could have only been asleep for minutes, but the horror had found me, as it always did.

I blinked up at the paint peeling from my chamber's ceiling. Under's creaks and sighs gnawed at my restless thoughts. Once the dreams faded, images of Reign and Shay took their place. I couldn't shake the memory of what I'd seen, of the general's looming deadline, so I gave up trying to and padded barefoot to a chamber set aside for target practice. The fae didn't need to work out. Their genetics kept them in top condition, but some had set up a training area. Reign had a warrior's background, and I suspected he wasn't the only one. I didn't know much about Faerie, but I did know its people were fierce. There had been battles. Reign had fought in one, and deserted. So he'd told me. That was back when we were talking.

Thoughts
of Reign did little to temper the disappointment and acidic betrayal simmering in my veins. I flicked on the lights and checked out the dummy targets staggered down the range. The fae had taken most of their weapons when they'd fled, but they'd left a few throwing knives and a rack of notched training swords.

Collecting the knives, I tested their weight in my hands. I missed my daggers. The daggers Kael had taken hadn't started out as mine. I'd stolen them from an FA warrior I'd killed, hunted down the queen with them, and carved out the new me. I considered them mine—the only two things I owned, reminders of what I was capable of. Now Kael had them.

They would do for now, but I
was
getting my daggers back, even if I had to pry them out of Kael's dead hands. I'd earned them.

I tried out a few flicks of the wrist and set myself up behind the line. My first few attempts went wide. But as I collected the blades and tried again, my aim sharpened. I'd cherished my new memories like trinkets of sentimental value. Now I had one I'd rather wipe from my mind. Reign and Shay. Her grip on his arm, her kisses on his lips. I knew I couldn't have him like that.
I knew that
, but it hadn't stopped me wanting him. I had memories of being intimate, but it was lies. Stories to flesh out Alina and her make-believe life. The times I had touched Reign, kissed him, and things had gotten heated, he'd pulled away fast enough to leave me cold and bereft. That wasn't even the worst of it. The two of them, they'd looked perfect. Beautiful. Dark and light, night and day, both so stunning, so damned perfect. They were meant for each other. How could I ever think Reign might look at me like he had her? I was human on the outside. Clumsy, nineteen-year-old Alina. Talks too much. Asks too many questions. I wasn't even human. A
construct.
A thing. I had a heartbeat but didn't even know if it was real or just my own screwed-up memory telling me how a heart should beat.

I collected my knives and threw them
one, two, three
at the dummy. Again.
One, two, three.
I had to get out of Under, get away from Reign, find Becky, Andrews's missing sister.
That
I could do. I would have to return to Kael. Reign wouldn't talk to me, but Kael had the answers to all my questions. What did it mean to be fae? What awaited a construct? He'd said he'd help me “
reach my true potential
.” What better way to find out more than to do so from within the FA headquarters?

A smile dashed across my lips. The knives flew, some even hit close to where I'd aimed.
One, two, three.
General Kael wasn't a fool. He must have been suspicious of my motives, and my words, but he would want to know what remained of his queen. That little nugget he couldn't resist. If—when I went back—I'd make it believable. Because if Kael had taken Becky, bespelled her, perhaps even held her against her will, I'd be the one to end it—end him.

One, two—

A noise behind me—shoes scuffing on the ground. I spun and launched the knife—
three
. Reign jerked right. The knife strummed in the wall behind where his head had been a moment before. He arched an eyebrow, utterly unruffled, and plucked the knife free. “I count myself lucky you no longer want to kill me.”

He strode closer and held out the knife.

I hadn't wanted to kill him right up until I'd seen him about to screw Shay. Now though, I sure wanted to rage at him. To demand why he'd let me believe I had a chance. I took the knife but didn't meet his gaze. He was wearing different clothes. His shirt gaped at the collar, revealing that tantalizing tattoo. Turning my back on
him
I tossed the knife and missed the dummy completely. The knife clattered to the floor and skidded to the back of the room.

“I'm going away for a few days.” I waited for him to ask where—to
care
—but he stayed quiet. He couldn't stop me. Maybe he didn't want to. My bitter smile twisted as I strode down the range to collect the knives.

“Shay's okay.”

My stride faltered. I hid it by bending down and scooping up the knife and made sure to plaster a sweet Alina smile on my face before facing him. “Good.” My voice came out all wrong. Flat. False. But he didn't seem to notice, not least because his gaze skipped about the room, at anything but me.

“She was laying low—”

“Understandable.”

“The FA wanted to talk to anyone involved in the events at the Dome. After the things she'd seen—”

“I don't care.” My jaw ached from maintaining the smile. “She's well. That's great.” His sharp eyes settled on me. He read my stance, my expression. The corner of his lips ticked. “There's something I've got to do,” I added, sounding a lot like Andrews had before he'd launched himself at Kael.

He arched a brow at my vagueness. “Can I help in any way?”

“No.” I couldn't stand this. I didn't want to be here, with him. “I've got it covered.” I marched on by him, hoping to get out of there before I said or did something I'd regret.

“Alina.” He reached for my arm.

Veering away, I hated how my name on his lips always scattered shivers through me. “Don't.”

“
Wait.”

Hesitating, I paused in the doorway, hand gripping the frame. He looked at me. I knew because I could feel his gaze settle on my back. But he would never look at me like he did
her.
“What about us?” I whispered, not daring to look over my shoulder. I didn't want to see the disgust or surprise or disbelief, or whatever expression he'd give me.

“There was no
us
. There was never going to be an
us
.” His words hurt to hear. My unreal heart stuttered in my chest. “There can never be an
us
. You're too much like her.”

My lips turned down in a savage grimace. I shoved off the frame and somehow managed to walk away and not run. He called my name, said it like a curse, and I strode on, pace confident, head up, throwing knives clutched in a white-knuckle grip.

I walked right out of Under and had no intention of ever going back.

Chapter Five

The road outside Chancery Lane glistened beneath streetlights, and passing cars hissed through standing water. I ducked out of the early-morning mist and into the coffee shop right by the station steps. A quick glance at the clock behind the bistro counter told me it was 7:30. Holland Park was just over ten minutes
from
Chancery Lane by subway, but I had a call to make before returning to Kael without Reign.

I plucked my cheap cell phone out of my pocket and hovered my thumb over Andrews's contact details on the display. Doubt dragged out the seconds. With the warmth of the coffee shop, the clatter and grind of the coffee machines, and subdued early-morning chatter from a handful of customers, tiredness wrapped me in a bubble of safety. What if I walked away? From everything. From Under, from Reign, the FA, London? I didn't own anything. There was nothing keeping me here. No, that wasn't strictly true. I had guilt. A whole ton of guilt sitting on my shoulders. I couldn't leave Andrews, not without knowing if he was going to be okay. I just couldn't turn my back on him. Before I could leave, I'd have to make him okay. That meant getting inside the FAHQ and finding Becky.

“Alina,” he answered on the third ring, voice gruff. “It's early. Is everything okay?”