Page 128 of Facade

The scuff of shoes down another corridor had us all tensing.

“In there,” Lyra hissed as she looped Malachai’s other arm over her own shoulders. We ducked into the room, pressing ourselves against the shadows of the walls right as a Fae guard shuffled by, holding his backside, cursing as a wet, humiliating sound echoed down the hall.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered to a beaming Lyra, covering my nose as a noxious odor floated into the room. Malachai’s nose shriveled as he pulled the tattered remains of his tunic over his face, and Aniah’s eyes began to water as she used her free hand to cover her own mouth and nose.

“He ate my muffin.” Lyra turned to me, smiling triumphantly while pinching her nose. Revulsion flashed across my face. I definitely did not want to know about her muffin.

I started to check if it was clear when another string of curses floated into the room, and yet another guard moved past, only this one was waddling with a brown stain running down his cream britches and a trail of curses.

“Great moon, Lyra. How many guards ate your muffin?” What in the hell was in her muffin?

“Just the two…” she responded in a sing-song voice.

More footsteps echoed in the hall.

“Seriously?!” I mouthed. She only shrugged. Aniah let out a frustrated noise behind me.

I ran a hand over my face as I peered around the corner of the wall to see several guards, utterly pale-faced as they shoved one another, some holding their stomachs while others clenched their ass cheeks so tight it was a wonder they could walk at all. Then there, bringing up the rear was a Werewolf, the whites of his eyes showing stark against his black fur, dragging his ass across the floor. Poor bastard probably stayed shifted just to keep anything from coming out.

Once no more suffering guards or Shadow Stalkers were visible, we all turned to Lyra.

“What?” she said, a look of innocence on her face.

“I thought you said you made two muffins,” Malachai snarled from beneath his shirt.

“Yeah. Two… hundred,” she admitted.

Malachai shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of Zephyr dragging his ass across the floor like a common house dog out of my head.”

“Why didn’t you just give them a sleeping draft? The one guard actually shit himself!” I made a mental note to never piss her off.

“Eh. They deserve to shit themselves. Besides, I thought the runs would help get the stick to slide right out their asses.” She shrugged, looping Malachai’s arm around her once more. She and Aniah eased into the hallway, cutting across to the eerie sitting room I’d been in earlier. I shook my head, following after.

I was nearly to the room when a voice sounded behind me, sending icy tendrils of rage down my spine.

“I knew I smelled you earlier.” Aiden’s cold voice was like talons scraping underneath my skin.

I slowly turned, my dagger in hand instantly, with my other hand ready to grab the sword at my back.

He had his hands laced behind him, eyes narrowing as he took in my attire and natural hair. His nose flared, and I froze—could he smell Ryker on me? I’d scrubbed myself raw and drank an awful tincture that was supposed to be cleansing. Something other females had used in the village.

“Evanee—” Aniah’s worried whisper floated from the room behind me.

Aiden smirked. “I see the Witch managed to use what pitiful power remains to release you from your glamour. What else has she done, I wonder?” His eyes flashed, raking over my body in a way that had set my blood on fire with desire a few weeks ago. Now, it ran cold.

“Go, Aniah. Get them away from here.” My voice was deep as some of my Gargoyle came out.

“Yes,” he crooned, gaze flicking past me. “Run, little Witch. The Shadow Stalkers will feel the need to… regain some dignity after their misfortune this evening, and love nothing more than a good hunt. And by the looks of that traitorous bastard behind you, you won’t get far.”

A growl tore from Malachai, eyes flashing.

“Go,” I demanded of Aniah. Thankfully, I heard their footsteps recede as Lyra and Aniah got Malachai down the steps beyond the other entry.

“You’re the only traitorous bastard here,” I snarled.

The deep blue in his eyes flashed, a movement I now recognized as the warning before our Gargoyle breaks free.

“I take it your memories are back,” he stated, voice deeper. Deadlier.