AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He steps back. The wheel is tilted at the slightest angle now, and the steel around its base bulges in the flickering torchlight.
He takes a deep breath and musters his strength—what little is left. He strains until his arms shake and sweat stings his eyes, until his sword creaks and the steel container growls in protest. Slowly, slowly, the wheel begins to tilt and pull away from the door. With a resounding groan, the sheet of steel gives way. The wheel pops free and goes flying, taking his sword with it. Arsene stumbles back. There’s an almighty clatter behind him, followed by a series of noises that jab straight through him—snap, snap, snap.His sword breaking into pieces.
There’s no time to mourn. He sticks his hand in the hole. There’s a second steel wall, but in the hollow between the two his hand encounters a contraption connecting the wheel, the box, and the latch—the lock itself. He grabs the bar and yanks, feeling the whole thing shift. With the screeching complaint of metal on metal, the pins pull out of place on the door.
Arsene only has breath left to hiss in victory as the door wobbles. Still holding the bar tight with his arm inside the guts of the door, he pulls. The door squeals and comes open.
Arsene releases the bar. The pins snap back into place with a loud thunk and the steel door jerks back. His arm blooms in pain where it’s flush with the jagged metal edges. He yanks himself free with a shout.
Shit. There’s blood.
He tears a piece off his shirt with shaking hands and wraps it as tightly as he can with one hand, tying a fumbling a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. It burns deep when he moves his arm. A wound like this wouldn’t normally worry him—but he’s running low on reserves.
He retrieves the torch from the behind him and swings the door open. Inside, there’s a long, narrow galley lined with steel counters and arcane equipment—hunched devices with long noses and wide bases affixed to the counter, others that are just big, smooth-sided cylinders. He steps up inside, dizzy with anticipation. On the far end of the counter, apart from the strange human contraptions, is a simple white box. He knows right away.That’s it. Like someone has placed it there for him to find.
The box is latched but not otherwise sealed. He flips the lid open. Inside is a tidy flat of sealed glass bottles stamped with the same sigil as what was on the door: a bird with an arrow in its talons. There are two colors of lids, blue and green, and a dozen bottles in each color.
One is the solution that breaks down a null’s body and reforms him into a primus. The other solution keeps him alive during the torturous process.
With trembling hands, he lifts the flat to look underneath.
The second flat is empty. So is the third. He pulls them out and stacks them on the counter, then takes out the removable rack to reveal a second layer. All empty. His heart sinks as he takes them out one by one.
There’s only one set.
One flat of serum. He’s meant to find dozens of them, all full to the brim.
It might be enough to help Nur, but after that there would be nothing to bring back to New Yden. But he can’t be away from his mate much longer. The bond throbs in time with the pulse in his wounded arm, calling him back to Nur’s side.
He’ll have to come back.
Arsene followshis own trail of destruction back to the stairs, and then to the surface. It’s night. He douses the torch and lets his eyes adjust to the moonlight, gratefully drinking back the fresh air. It’s a momentary reprieve—exhaustion sets in quickly after. But he can’t stop to rest.
It’s dawn when he finally climbs over the lip of the crater. The bond pulls tighter with every step.Soon. Soon. Soon.He clambers through the ruins, heedless of the treacherous shifting ground. His lungs burn and his arm aches, but need drives him on.
Finally a familiar building emerges from the ruins, silhouetted against the brightening sky. A massive steel girder juts out into the open air. A familiar figure is perched atop it, hunched against the cold.
The breath rushes from his lungs. The bond sings. Nur’s mind is clouded at this distance, but the flavor of his thoughts is a balm—damp-cool-bitter like earth on his tongue.
Will he understand why I had to leave in silence?
He has to look away to pick through the rubble—then he’s there, standing below the metal frame. A distant warning rumble shakes the earth, the city settling around them. Nur doesn’t move to get down.
“Angel. You’re back.”
The cool greeting pierces him. “Nur, I…”
“I knew you’d return.”
He slumps in relief. “I wouldn’t leave you.”
“You’re injured.” Nur drops to the ground with easy grace. “I smell blood.”
Arsene yanks him in, heedless of the sharp pain in his bicep. “I’m fine.”
Nur is gloriously alive and well, warm and firm and exuding the most enticingly rich scent. He squirms and pushes at Arsene.
“Get off me, you beast.” His eyes flash in the early dawn rays. His coldness melts away.
