Page 62 of How Does It Feel?

Mother and I did.

Now it was the human’s turn to die, and she would not be so lucky.

The sharp wail of the girl pierced the pitter-patter of raindrops, startling me.

Why did she cry for him?

I watched as her eyes seemed to morph, the sadness seemed to wrestle with fire, and for less than a second, I saw a flash of her darkness.

It was her who had killed the forest bog. I had no doubt now. Why did she continue to act so sweet and innocent when obviously capable of something so impressive as severing a man’s finger and carving it into a key?

My interest in the human flared dangerously. The thoughts of what darkness pulsed behind her large doe eyes were enough to cause a tightening of the leathers that covered my groin.

“Move her cage to my room,” I stated to the guards that hovered nearby.

I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes away from the dirty ball of flesh in front of me. I tightened my grip on her hair. What would my new pet look like after it had been given a bath? Curiosity slithered into my mind like a snake. A little fun before I killed her wouldn’t hurt me.

It would most definitely hurt her.

“Disgusting. I’d rather you throw her over the ledge too,” said the queen standing bored. She knew I had just dropped Walter into the portal—her heart rate had slowed significantly. “Have your fun, but make certain she’s dead before next week, or I will handle it.” She turned and walked through the doors, followed by her guards and the other Fae.

Despite the many mats, Callie’s hair felt soft in my grip. I felt each wet strand brush the underbelly of my palm like a caress. My grip loosened quickly. Poison may as well have rubbed against my hand.

“You’ve turned my best men against me. First Alistair, now Walter. Somehow my men have failed to kill you now three times. I will not,” I threatened.

I have never wanted to kill someone more in all my years. To be rid of this girl that has wriggled into my mind like a maggot. She was a human.

Chapter 18

A New Cage

Callie

“No fucking way,” I whispered to myself.

Bars of faint charcoal smoke walled a six-foot circle around me.

Time and time again, I had tried to force my body through the teasingly opaque wisps of smoke that formed my new prison. It was the worst taunting of hope imaginable. A prison of smoke that teased your mind with shifts and swirls, believing a weak point has formed only to touch it and be disappointed.

It may as well have been iron for all the more it gave. Anger and sadness ripped through me as a vision of Walter being dropped into the abyss flashed through my mind.

He died because of me. Because he helped me.

A prickle of dreaded understanding began to unfurl within me, like a mosaic of puzzle pieces slowly coming together. Things I had struggled to understand began to make sense the moment I saw the dark queen. Understanding began to crack like a vein through the broken glass of my mind.

How would I escape? Could I do this? What if I failed? At least I was free from the dungeon.

I sat against the smokey rail and pulled my knees tight against my chest. It would be all right.

It had to be.

The cage’s ceiling was a peaked blanket of smoke that hovered and shifted hypnotically with the air. It was eight feet tall at least and didn’t seem to take up a fraction of space in the obscenely large room.

It was similar in style to the one I had been in earlier with the staircase, with one large difference.

Actias luna—the beautiful sherbet green moths—clung to the matte black walls. Hundreds of them scattered and dotted the walls of the large room, giving the illusion of a beautifully contrasted wallpaper. They moved their wings slowly—not fluttering, but smooth and deliberate against the dark walls. Mendax had said they were his pets. How poetic to be caged with the creature I had chased for years.

My neck spasmed slightly as the kink of manipulation settled into my shoulders, heavy with burden. It was clear now. Why, all those years ago before he left, the man I had once trusted, the one I leaned on—my best friend—had fueled my interest in the luna moth. He knew my obsession with wings.