House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City) (86 page)

“Keep playing these games, and you’ll make enemies of all of us,” Ruhn warned the king.

The Under-King faded into shadows. “Death is the only victor in war.” Then he was gone.

A bullet boomed against the metal door. Then another. Pippa was still shouting her vitriol.

“Any ideas?” Hunt asked. If the rebels had gorsian bullets, this would get messy very quickly. And bring a huge crowd to witness the disaster.

Bryce grabbed Hunt’s hand. Pushed it on her chest. “Level me up, Athalar.”

Ruhn jerked his chin toward Hypaxia. “Take her with you.”

The witch-queen glared at the Fae Prince in reproach, but Bryce shook her head, keeping her hand over Hunt’s. Her fingers
tightened, the only sign of her nerves as she said, “I’ve never brought anyone along. I need all my focus right now.”

Good. At least she was being smart about this. Hunt held his mate’s gaze, letting her see his approval, his encouragement. He wouldn’t waste time asking what she planned. Bryce was brilliant enough to have something figured out. So Hunt let his lightning flow, setting it zinging through his hand and into her chest.

Her star began glowing beneath his fingers, as if in greedy anticipation. Another barrage of bullets clanged against the door.

His lightning flowed into her like a river, and he could have sworn he heard a beautiful sort of music between their souls as Bryce said, “We need reinforcements.”

Ruhn contained his panic as his sister, charged up with a spike of Athalar’s lightning, vanished into nothing.

An impact rocked the metal doors into the inner sanctum. Why hadn’t the Aux been summoned yet? He reached for his phone. If he called in help, there would be questions about why they’d even been here in the first place. He’d already tried Cormac, but the male had sent him to audiomail, and then messaged that he was talking to the King of Avallen. There was no way the prince would interrupt that call.

They were trapped.

He pivoted to Hypaxia, who was scanning the sanctum, searching for any hidden doors. “There has to be another exit,” she said, running her hands over the walls. “No temple ever has just one way in and out.”

“This one might,” Hunt grumbled.

Bryce reappeared, and Ruhn marked every detail of his panting sister. “Easy peasy,” Bryce declared, but her face was sweaty, her eyes dim with exhaustion. What the Hel had she gone off to do?

Another bang on the doors, and the metal dented.

“What the fuck was that?” Ruhn drew the Starsword.

“We need to get out of here now,” Bryce said, going to Hunt’s side. “We have time, but not much.”

“Then teleport us out.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do it—”

“You can,” Athalar said, absolutely certain. “You just teleported in and out. You’ve got this. Steady your breathing, block out the noise, and focus.”

Her throat bobbed. But she reached for Athalar’s hand.

Hunt took a step away. “Hypaxia first. Then Ruhn.”

“I might not have enough strength—”

“You do. Go.”

Wariness and apprehension flooded his sister’s face. But Bryce kissed Athalar’s cheek, then grabbed the witch by the arm. “Hold on. I’ve never taken anyone with me like this and it might be …” Her words cut off as they disappeared.

Thank the gods. Thank the gods Bryce had made it out again, with Hypaxia in tow.

Hunt held his breath.

Ruhn said, “You should go next. You’re her mate.”

“You’re her brother. And heir to the Fae throne.”

“So is she.”

Hunt blinked at the prince, but then Bryce was back, panting. “Oh gods, that fucking sucked.” She retched, and reached a hand for Ruhn. “Come on.”

“Rest,” her brother ordered, but the doors dented further inward. Another few blows and they’d be open. And if Bryce’s plan didn’t get them a little more time …

Bryce grabbed Ruhn’s arm and before her brother could object, they vanished. Alone, Hunt monitored the door, rallied his lightning. He could charge her up again, but she was clearly exhausted. Would it do any good?

The doors shuddered, and light cracked in as they peeled apart a few inches.

Hunt ducked behind the altar, away from the spray of bullets that followed, blindly aiming for whoever was within. “
There!
” Pippa shouted, and guns trained on him.

Where the fuck was Bryce—

The doors blew open, throwing three Lightfall soldiers to the ground.

Pollux stood between the doors, white wings luminescent with power, laughing to himself as he brought a clenched fist down upon the head of a female rebel sprawled before him. Bone and blood sprayed. Beyond him, in the courtyard, rebels fired at Mordoc and the dreadwolves. And out in the street, standing beneath a palm tree, away from the fray, Hunt could see the Hind, surveying the brawl.

Bryce appeared and slid behind the altar. Her skin had gone ashen, her breaths uneven. Sharp. She lifted a shaking hand toward him. “I …” She collapsed to her knees. She didn’t need to say the rest. She was tapped out. Yet she’d come back to him. To fight her way out with him.

“Another charge?” he asked, lightning twining down his arms as he lifted her to her feet.

“I don’t think my body can take it.” She leaned against him. “I feel like overcooked meat.”

Hunt peered around the altar. “How’d you manage to buy us time?”

“The Gates,” Bryce panted. “I had to teleport to a few of them before I found one that was pretty empty and unwatched. I used the dial pad to broadcast a report that Ophion was sacking Urd’s Temple—right in the middle of one of those stupid daily announcements. I figured a unit would be sent here. Probably the biggest and baddest they had, which happened to also be the closest.”

He remembered now—they’d avoided Pollux and Mordoc, along with the Hind’s dreadwolves, on the walk over here. “Your voice will be recognized—”

“I recorded the message, then played it through the Gate using a voice-warping app,” she said with a grim smile. “And I made sure to move fast enough that the cameras couldn’t pick it up as more than a blur, don’t worry.”

He could only gape at her, his clever, brilliant Bryce. Gods, he loved her.

Crouching behind the altar again as the fighting pressed into
the temple, Hunt breathed, “We have to find some way to get through those doors unseen.”

“If you can give me a minute …” She brushed a shaking hand to her chest. The scar there.

But Hunt knew. Only time would allow her to gain back her strength, and it would sure as fuck take longer than they had to spare.

Hunt banked his lightning, fearful Pollux would spy it. The Hammer drew closer, Mordoc a menacing shadow behind him. Where they walked, rebels died. Hunt couldn’t get a visual on Pippa.

Bryce panted, and Hunt scented her blood before he looked. Her nose was bleeding. “What the fuck?” he exploded, covering her with his body as a stray spray of bullets shot over the top of the altar.

“My brain might be soup,” she hissed, though fear shone in her eyes.

If he could unleash his lightning, he might be able to fry their way out. No matter that everyone would know who’d been there, especially if Mordoc picked up on the scents afterward, but … he’d take that chance. For Bryce, he’d risk it.

They could, of course, say that they had been fighting Ophion, but there was a chance that the Hind would decide this was the moment to reveal what she knew.

“Hold on to me,” Hunt warned, reaching for Bryce as something crept out of the shadows behind Urd’s throne.

A black dog. Massive, with fangs as long as Hunt’s hand.

The Helhound motioned to the throne with a clawed paw. Then he vanished behind it.

There was no time to think. Hunt scooped up Bryce and ran, ducking low through the shadows between the altar and the dais, praying no one saw them in the chaos and smoke—

He whipped behind the throne to find the space empty. No sign of Baxian.

A growl came behind him, and Hunt whirled to the back of the throne. It wasn’t solid stone at all, but an open doorway, leading into a narrow stairwell.

Hunt didn’t question their luck as he sprinted through the stone
doorway. Baxian, now in angelic form, shoved it shut behind him. Sealing them entirely in darkness.

Baxian lit the tight steps downward with his phone. Hunt held on to Bryce. From the way she clung to him, he wasn’t entirely certain she could walk.

“I heard Pollux give the order to come here over the radio,” Baxian said, hurrying ahead, wings rustling. Hunt let the male lead, glancing behind them to ensure the door didn’t open. But the seal was perfect. Not so much as a crack of light shone. “Given how pissed Pippa was after Ydra, I figured it was you lot involved. I researched the history of this temple. Found rumors about the door hidden in the throne. It’s what took me some time—finding the tunnel entrance in. Some priestess must have used it recently, though. Her scent was all over the alley and fake wall that leads in here.”

Hunt and Bryce said nothing. That was twice now that Baxian had interfered to save them from the Hind and Pollux. And now Pippa.

“Is Spetsos dead?” Baxian asked, as they reached the bottom of the stairs and entered a long tunnel.

“Don’t know,” Hunt grunted. “She probably escaped and left her people to die.”

“Lidia will be pissed she didn’t catch her, but Pollux seemed to be enjoying himself,” Baxian said, shaking his head. They walked until they hit a crossroads flanked by skulls and bones placed in tiny alcoves. Catacombs. “I don’t think they had any clue you were there,” Baxian went on, “though how they got tipped off—”

Bryce moved, so fast Hunt didn’t have time to stop her from dropping out of his arms.

To stop her from unslinging her rifle and pointing it at Baxian. “Stop right there.”

Bryce wiped the blood dripping from her nose on her shoulder as she aimed the rifle at the Helhound, paused in the catacombs’ crossroads.

Her head pounded relentlessly, her mouth felt as dry as the
Psamathe Desert, and her stomach was a churning eddy of bile. She was never teleporting again. Never, ever,
ever
.

“Why the fuck do you keep popping up?” Bryce seethed, not taking her attention off the Helhound. Hunt didn’t so much as move at her side. “Hunt says you’re not spying for the Hind or the Asteri, but I don’t fucking believe it. Not for one second.” She clicked off the safety. “So tell me the gods-damned truth before I put this bullet through your head.”

Baxian walked to one of the curved walls full of skulls. Didn’t seem to care that he was a foot away from the barrel of her gun. He ran a finger down the brown skull of what seemed to be some fanged Vanir, and said, “Through love, all is possible.”

The rifle nearly tumbled from her fingers. “What?”

Baxian peeled back the collar of his battle-suit, revealing brown, muscled flesh. And a tattoo scrawled over the angel’s heart in familiar handwriting.

Through love, all is possible
.

She knew that handwriting. “Why,” she asked carefully, voice shaking, “do you have Danika’s handwriting tattooed on you?”

Baxian’s dark eyes became pained. Empty. “Because Danika was my mate.”

65

Bryce aimed the rifle at Baxian again. “You are a fucking
liar
.”

Baxian left his collar open, Danika’s handwriting inked there for all to see. “I loved her. More than anything.”

Hunt said harshly, words echoing in the dry catacombs around them, “This isn’t fucking funny, asshole.”

Baxian turned pleading eyes to him. Bryce wanted to claw the male’s face off. “She was my mate. Ask Sabine. Ask her why she ran the night she burst into your apartment. She’s always hated and feared me—because I saw how she treated her daughter and wouldn’t put up with it. Because I’ve promised to turn her into carrion one day for what Danika endured. That’s why Sabine left the party last night so fast. To avoid me.”

Bryce didn’t lower the gun. “You’re full of shit.”

Baxian splayed his arms, wings rustling. “Why the fuck would I lie about this?”

“To win our trust,” Hunt said.

Bryce couldn’t get a breath down. It had nothing to do with the teleporting. “I would have known. If Danika had a mate, I would have
known
—”

“Oh? You think she would have told you that her mate was someone in Sandriel’s triarii? The Helhound? You think she’d have run home to dish about it?”

“Fuck you,” Bryce spat, focusing the scope right between his eyes. “And fuck your lies.”

Baxian walked up to the gun. To the barrel. Pushed it down and against his heart, right up against the tattoo in Danika’s handwriting. “I met her two years before she died,” he said quietly.

“She and Thorne—”

Baxian let out a laugh so bitter it cracked her soul. “Thorne was delusional to think she’d ever be with him.”

“She fucked around,” Bryce seethed. “You were no one to her.”

“I had two years with her,” Baxian said. “She didn’t fuck anyone else during that time.”

Bryce stilled, doing the mental tally. Right before her death, hadn’t she teased Danika about …

“Two years,” she whispered. “She hadn’t gone on a date in two years.” Hunt gaped at her now. “But she …” She racked her memory. Danika had hooked up constantly throughout college, but a few months into their senior year and the year after … She’d partied, but stopped the casual sex. Bryce choked out, “It’s not possible.”

Baxian’s face was bleak, even in the dimness of the catacombs. “Believe me, I didn’t want it, either. But we saw each other and knew.”

Hunt murmured, “That’s why your behavior changed. You met Danika right after I left.”

“It changed
everything
for me,” Baxian said.

“How did you even meet each other?” Bryce demanded.

“There was a gathering of wolves—Pangeran and Valbaran. The Prime sent Danika as his emissary.”

Bryce remembered that. How pissed Sabine had been that Danika had been tapped to go, and not her. Two weeks later, Danika had come back, and she’d seemed subdued for a few days. She’d said it was exhaustion but …

“You’re not a wolf. Why were you even there?” Danika couldn’t have been with Baxian, couldn’t have had a
mate
and not told her about it, not smelled like it—