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His grip tightened on the handles, squeezing the worn silicone coverings while imagining some feral, lanky fair folk creature prowling after Grey at the edge of the woods. Those bright pink eyes glowing in the dark, forever seared into his memory as a living nightmare of what awaited them on the other side of the veil in the Otherworld. Something the Calling had lured them toward until this very moment when they’d broken free.
Grey’s face rested against Noel’s shoulder blade, and he nearly melted, his legs going slack for a mere breath and hiccupping their acceleration. His jaw set, and he relished the rush of wind through his hair—that taste of freedom he’d always taken for granted not all that long ago, back when he quietly feared the thought of encountering a hemomancer.
Now he knew better. Now he understood that the fair folk had pitted them all against each other for a laugh. All just to watch them squirm and squabble—to spill each other’s blood without so much as lifting a finger.
To keep them separated.
To keep them scared.
To keep them pacified.
Noel swallowed, reimagining his fantasies of meeting Grey in another timeline that he’d never get now. But you can offer a sacrifice to keep him. Guilt gnawed at him, nudging forward that horrible reminder that Grey might wish to be left alone or—worse—that Grey might still be intimidated or fearful of him when all was said and done. Sure, trust among being hunted was one thing, but when they were free, what would he do then?
The offering of a cookie after their initial escape. The feel of Grey’s magic knitting him back together in exchange for the grass all around them. The night Grey jolted awake with nightmares of being hunted, wearing a suppressing collar.
Sacrifice after sacrifice, all made for the sake of their survival—Noel’s survival—and yet, Grey’s hesitation said that it wasn’t enough. But it was. It was more than enough, and Noel felt like everything he’d done for them paled in comparison. And here he was, selfishly hoping to keep Grey to himself when all was said and done.
Noel shook the idea away. This would be his sacrifice: protecting Grey until they were free from this wretched game.
26
GREY
Dark closed in before they reached the delta. Grey’s legs ached as they peeled themselves off the bike from the long ride, and Noel led the way to a hole-in-the-wall tavern with its doorway covered by a sheet. Jewels clinked together along the other side when Noel pushed it back and they stumbled in. Smoky trails of incense permeated the air, and cushions scattered the floor around squatty mismatched square and round tables. Tea kettles and liquor decanters lined the back wall alongside flickering candles dripping down to the dregs.
Noel took a hesitant step inside, peering around the draped sheer fabric dividers on his way to the ornate bar. Not a soul in sight. It ramped up Grey’s anxiety more than he cared to admit, but he ran his palms up and down his sleeves to try to calm himself. “Maybe they’re closed?” he whispered.
Almost in answer, a wood-beaded curtain drew back, and Grey jumped, nearly toppling into Noel as his shoe caught on a cushion. A slim, tall woman with pouty lips and narrowed eyes scrutinized them on her way behind the counter—each step a sashay that made him scoot behind Noel like he might use him as a shield.
Such a coward. So selfish.
“What can I help you two with? We’re closed for the night, so if you’re looking for a drink?—”
“We’re actually looking for a room, and maybe a warm meal if you can spare us the kitchen to put something together? We don’t want to inconvenience anyone if?—”
She held up a hand with eyes closed, her shimmering sterling charm bracelet jingling in apparent dismissal. Grey’s heart sank.
“Leave the kitchen to me, assuming you two have enough to pay.”
The stress in Grey’s shoulders ebbed away while he rummaged through his bag, scraping out a few metal coins from the pouch. God, the bag was teetering on dangerously light. He dropped them on the counter anyway, and the woman slid them into her palm, one-by-one. That horrible thought that he’d wasted so much of their money on frivolous art supplies made his stomach clench as he watched the proprietress pluck a key off a hook in her little lockbox. Its slam shut snapped him back to reality and pushed every nerve on edge.
“Follow me.”
Steps creaked on their way up the slim staircase, his shoulders grazing the walls. Two flights up, she drew back a curtain to a just-as-narrow hallway with a door off to the side and one at the dead end—the latter their clear destination since she ignored the former. A click of the lock, and she pushed it open to flip on the light. The flickering bulb hung at the foot of a single, wood-framed bed, neatly made with the scent of lavender permeating the air.
“I’ll bring up your meals in a bit. There’s a washroom for you two to clean up in the meantime.”
“Thank you,” came Noel’s stronger reply, overshadowing Grey’s mumble.
And just like that, the door shut, leaving them alone again.
Noel’s heaving sigh and backwards flop onto the mattress made Grey instinctively rub at his arms, shame needling at him with every passing second.
“Noel, we don’t have much money left.”
He groaned and covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. “How much?”
Grey shifted, letting his bag droop down to his elbow to dig out the pouch. He set it down on the bed and glanced out the window to the strung lights zipping from building to building. The gentle sway back and forth moved in time with the slow spin of the water wheel. Grey fidgeted with his hands as he listened to the clink of their treasure in Noel’s grasp.
