Frost Fire (Tortured Elements) (11 page)

His growl continued, but mellowed to a lower tone. He wasn’t sure what to think of that. It could be that having the girl—damn it,
Allai
—out of sight calmed him. Or maybe it was exhaustion depleting him.

Wind-chimes whispered through the air. And then he knew it was exhaustion, and that he was losing strength. Because he wasn’t trying to rattle his wings and make that sound. But he could feel it now—his long, hollow feathers knocking together as his wings shook with fatigue, imitating the sound of wind-chimes.

He despised that sound, almost as much as he despised Dad. Because the gentle chiming sound his feathers made as they rattled together was the same sound Dad’s feathers made. He couldn’t help that his wing-blades had taken on the abnormal length and hollowness of his father’s. And he also couldn’t help the disgusted glances Mom had sent his way whenever she looked at his wings, the glances she always tried to cover up with a smile. Always tried. Always failed.

Drake collapsed. He just fell to the ground, his knees giving out like rusted hinges. It was a good thing the girl had left when she did. She shouldn’t see him like this.

He closed his eyes. He didn’t care that his face was half-pressed against the cement floor like he’d fallen unconscious. Because he’d probably be unconscious again in a few moments, anyway.

He hadn’t said her name. He sighed at that, although what he really wanted to do was punch something. He’d been talking to her. He could have done it. Just said her name right to her, like he’d wanted to ever since he’d learned of it. It would have been simple. But, no. He was a foolish asshole, and instead he’d just called her ‘little Nox’ and shoved at her.

At least he’d been able to ask how she was doing, and made sure she was being taken good care of. Not that there was much he could have even done about it, but still, it felt important to ask.

He closed his eyes. Maybe he should have apologized for everything he and his family had ever done to her. Yeah, he definitely should have. But did she even remember what Dad had done to her? She didn’t act like it.

Maybe that was a good thing. Because then she didn’t have to worry about being mad; she could be oblivious and happy. And he could feel all the anger for her. He could carry around the weight of all the rage, and spend the sleepless nights wondering how it could have gone differently.

Well, not for long. No matter how this played out, he’d be dead soon. No escaping that. And when that happened, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this shit anymore.

“What were you
thinking
?” Luke snarled. He yanked at Allai’s arm, dragging her up the steps and away from the dungeon.

What
had
she been thinking? It was actually a pretty good question. And her spinning mind hadn’t quite figured it out. “I just wanted to see him.” She winced as Luke gave her arm a particularly forceful tug. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Allai, he’s a murderer! A psychopath!” Luke increased his pace even more.

Allai wondered if her arm was going to survive this trip, and where they were even heading. “He’s not a murderer. He didn’t try to kill me.”

It felt weird stating that fact. A small part of her had suspected it all along, but the rest of her felt dizzy from the truth. She’d feared Drake for so long—so many nightmares, and so many nights spent staring anxiously out her window. And, all this time, he’d never even tried to kill her.

Luke looked ahead of them, up the hallway leading to the first story. He sniffed the air for a moment, cursed, and then jerked Allai to a stop. “You’re lucky I dismissed those guards,” he hissed. “If they’d overheard that, they might try to charge you with treason.”

“Treason?” Allai repeated. She tried to yank her wrist out of Luke’s grasp, but his fingers held on like steel cables. “I’m just stating the facts, I’m—”

“You’re defending an enemy, Allai! Drake Rhaize, of all people.”

“Luke, he showed me memories! What I’m saying is the truth, it’s—”

“Call it whatever you want, but it’s traitorous,” Luke said, cutting her off.

“I’m sick of this,” Allai spat. “I’m sick of everyone threatening to expel me from my own home.”

“This isn’t a home,” Luke said. “This is the headquarters of an ancient organization. A deadly one. You’ve lived here for over a decade. It’s time you get used to that.”

He let go of her wrist and stalked off, leaving her in the middle of the hallway. She glared at his back. He seemed to feel her gaze, because he whirled around and said, “And you’re grounded.”

“
What?
”

“You heard me. You’re grounded. For three months. No leaving the Manor without both my permission and Shieldak’s.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I’m your superior, Allai. I’ll do whatever I want.”

He didn’t let her reply and just stormed off, leaving her to gape at his back. He never pulled rank on her. Everyone else in the Sentinel did that. But never Luke.

Apparently, that had changed.

“Don’t hurt him,” she begged Luke. “Please, just don’t hurt him.”

But Luke didn’t stop walking.

Allai felt a little lightheaded. Luke was acting frightening, and Drake… So many things surrounding him were still so mysterious. She continued to come back to one question: Why was Rhaize so interested in her? She’d always just chalked Drake’s ‘attack’ up to being Shieldak’s daughter. It was dangerous being a member of the Sentinel, and even more dangerous being a relative of Shieldak’s.

But Rhaize had known her even before she’d been adopted. Drake had made that clear with his memories, and the memory had also shown that Rhaize thought Allai had some kind of magic ability. Which was ridiculous, of course. She didn’t have the bronze eyes of a Mage, and her magic would have manifested years ago if she’d had any Mage blood. But it still brought up the possibility that Rhaize might have another sort of interest in her, other than just the obvious war.

Allai pressed a hand to her forehead and leaned against the wall. Then she realized that it wasn’t just her whirling thoughts; she actually
was
dizzy. She slid down to the ground, the walls spinning in front of her. Her tailbone had just touched the floor when black began eclipsing her vision.

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was lying on the ground. She didn’t remember trying to lie down. Must have fallen.

Her head hurt even worse than before. She reached up, her arm moving sluggishly, and touched the side of her head. Sticky liquid clung to her fingers.
Definitely
must have fallen. She’d broken open the scab that had been forming on her wound from her previous fall.

She took in a deep breath. The world came back together more quickly this time, her vision falling back into place, and the wheels of her mind starting to turn again. She blinked a couple times and slowly stood, leaning against the wall for support.

Anemia? Dehydration? Shock? She ran through different causes of fainting in her head, trying to remember which ones she’d actually read in her health book, and which ones just came from what little TV she watched.

It struck her that she hadn’t seen a doctor before. She’d never gotten so much as a common cold, not even after that time Luke and her had a giant snowball fight on the Manor’s lawn, and her fingertips had turned blotchy purple. The next day, she’d been right as rain, and that was how she always felt: Healthy. There was no need for her to go to a doctor.

Or was there? Could she have some sort of medical condition that was dangerous? Shieldak had always been against doctors, but maybe she needed to convince him to take her to one. Or maybe she could get Luke to do it. He’d understand.

But before she figured out her medical problem—if there even
was
one—she wanted some answers to her other questions. And she wanted them quickly.

Allai’s truck rumbled to a halt in the driveway of the Manor. She took a deep breath, leaning back against her seat. It wasn’t comfortable. Nothing in this truck was ever comfortable; the seats, the way she had to stretch to reach the pedals, the failing heater. But it still got her places, it was hers, and she loved it.

There weren’t very many of those things, she realized. Things she loved. There were a lot more things she hated, like being grounded, and the way Luke had been treating her lately. He acted like she was some juvenile delinquent; he was constantly restricting her movements, and constantly checking to see she wasn’t getting in trouble. And her dad wasn’t making the whole grounding thing any easier. She needed his permission to go anywhere, but he was making himself scarce to her.

Being grounded sucked. So she’d ungrounded herself. Well, technically she’d just snuck out of the Manor early this morning, when everyone had still been asleep. It wasn’t smart, and it’d just earn her another rant from Luke. But she didn’t care. Drake had been killed a few days ago, after Rhaize had decided against negotiations. No one knew why he’d chosen not to take Drake back, after hunting him for years. But Allai didn’t even really care. Every part of her felt numb and jumbled. The consequences of sneaking out didn’t matter; she just needed some time to clear her mind.

She pressed her palm to her forehead and sighed. Because it hadn’t worked. She’d driven to the nearest town filled with oblivious Luxs and their mundane lives. Nothing paranormal for miles. And she’d just sat there in a park, thinking things over, wondering what it would be like to take a walk without constantly looking for danger, or to talk about politics without numerous assassinations and murder plots being mentioned. It all had seemed so normal. So peaceful.

And she wanted it. She wanted the normal, mundane human life she was born for. For years—hell, for as long as she could remember—she’d been looked down on for being human. For being herself. There was an easy fix to that, one she’d been trying to ignore all this time: She could become a Lux.

That fact had struck her on the drive home to the Manor, and now her mind was even more muddled and confused than it’d been when she’d left. Because how could she ever leave the Manor? Even if Drake had been right, and it was unfair, and even if people disliked her… It was home. Home was where Luke was, and where her dad was, and where she’d grown up fighting to be tough like the Demons and Hunters, and laughing at all the oblivious Luxs.

Something tapped against her window. Allai whirled toward it, stifling a scream. Luke stood outside on the driveway. His hands were stuffed in his jean pockets, his head cocked slightly to the side as he listened intently. He was tense. Nervous.

And she was busted.

Allai shoved the door open, jumping out and landing on the hard pavement. “Don’t scare me like that,” she snapped. “You—”

Luke lunged forward and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Shut up, Allai. Get inside, and go to your room. Don’t come out until I tell you to.” He turned her away with a shove, pushing her toward the side entrance of the Manor.

She almost fell flat on her face. Luke never talked to her like that. Telling her to shut up? That just wasn’t him.

Allai whirled around to demand what was wrong with him. To demand what was wrong with
all of them.
Nobody had the right to treat her like that. Nobody.

But then she saw the black jaguar sportscar parked at the top of the driveway. Much too gaudy for anyone in the Sentinel. A car like that could only mean one thing: The French ambassadors were here.

Her dad’s warning ran through her head: The French had come to talk about her. She turned to ask Luke what was going on and if she was in any sort of trouble. But he just snarled at her and pointed to the door.

That did it. Banishing her to her room was one thing, but snarling was another. Something was wrong, and she wasn’t waiting around to find out what it was.

Allai ran into the Manor, but forced herself to walk up the two flights of stairs to her room. She had to stay calm. Collected.

She’d never really noticed how long it took to get upstairs. Two minutes, three? Too long. Then her bedroom door was within sight, and she jogged the last few steps to it. A sigh of relief escaped her as she pressed a palm to the cool wood and pushed it open. She slipped inside and closed the door quietly.

And then gasped.

Drake lounged on her bed, using a black duffle bag as a pillow. He was in his human form, his wings and claws gone. His face also looked a little softer. She liked him like that, soft and human.

Drake didn’t open his eyes. But he raised an eyebrow and said, “Why is it that every time we meet, you’re in some sort of danger?”

Allai just shook her head, shock and relief coursing through her. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered.

He scoffed. “Do you always greet people so enthusiastically?”

She didn’t answer his question. Because it was sarcasm, and because she could hear the amusement and content hiding in his voice. She rushed forward, right to the edge of her bed, and leaned over to give him a hug. It was awkward; he didn’t react, and she couldn’t get her arms around him since he was lying down. But it still felt good.

“You’re awfully chipper for someone being hunted,” Drake muttered.

“Hunted?” She pulled back from him. “What? What’s going on?”

Drake shrugged. His shoulders stretched against the fabric of his shirt, which was a little too small for him. But, no, it wasn’t
his
shirt. Allai startled as she recognized the black band t-shirt Luke liked to wear. Why was he wearing Luke’s clothes?

“Didn’t your viper friend tell you what’s happening? He’s the one who dragged me up here.” Drake peeked open one eye. “And I’ll admit, I’m grateful. Your bed beats cement any day.”

Her head spun. Luke had freed Drake. Drake Rhaize, the person he was convinced was a psychopath. And he’d sent Drake to her room. Why?

And Drake was alive. She kept coming back to that fact, the reality of it striking her over and over, and the relief washing over her again and again. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry, or jump around in excited circles. Her questions would be answered. She might finally understand her past. And she’d have someone from that past in her present life.