Page 25

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lies,” she hissed, fiery eyes wet with a molten heat.

“I’m not a liar,” came out weaker than he expected, the hellscape before him bared in ironclad condemnation, evidence that Fenrir was, in fact, very much capable of lying.

I told you so, echoed in his head, Orpheus’ voice as caustic as the sword eating through his arm, and Fenrir would give anything to have him here to tell him to his face.

A beat, a pulse, a wriggling sickness.

Fifi, are you okay?

Beyond the crowd, more white-cloaked figures crested the hill, disappearing over the ridge in a direction that took them away from the fairgrounds. Not chasing. Not fighting. They were running, but towards what he didn’t know. Couldn’t see. And the fact they weren’t coming for him should be good, but instead, Fenrir fought down the vicious instinct that something else was critically wrong.

A figure paused at the crest of the hill, staring out over the smoke and mist as if taking in a sight they would never again see, and the tiny hairs on the back of Fenrir’s neck stood on end.

“You’re a distraction,” he breathed out, heart pounding, throat closing. “This whole thing is a distraction.”

The elf grinned. “So, you’re not as stupid as you look.”

“What do you want?” he snarled, shoving forward despite how the extra force sunk the elf’s blade deeper into his arm. The screaming voice inside his head told him to think, think, think— “What are you here for?”

“To fix it,” she hissed through bared teeth. “To make him fix what he broke.”

Him? Him. Him.

“Orpheus,” Fenrir breathed, realization a punch to his gut. “You’re here for Orpheus.”

Laughter filled his head, awful and scathing. Then the edges of the world around Fenrir turned red.

He shoved forward with a roar.

The elf stumbled backwards, laughter cutting short. Eyes wide, her foot slipped out from under her and caught Fenrir around the calf, so he had no choice but to follow her down. Bright red blood arced through the space between them when her sword tore free of his arm, the scent of burning flesh second to the nerve fire lancing through the crook of his elbow and down to his wrist.

All hells!

Fenrir gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. Ignored how the sky tilted sideways and the horizon rippled at the edge of his vision. The elf made a choked sound when they hit the stage together, straining against him while he rolled them sideways off the edge and into the crackling dust.

Tiny infernos snapped across his skin, biting with the electric taste of a building explosion.

This is it.

Fenrir closed his eyes and prayed to whoever the fuck might be listening.

In a flash of searing light, his entire world erupted, one enormous blast that ripped him and the elf apart and sent him careening through the support beams holding the stage aloft. Bending metal and shattering wood screamed through the air, the world going dark at the precise moment something heavy collided with his chest—then his head. And the last thought Fenrir had before the world went dark was that the only person who had broken anything of worth in this world was him.

Interlude

Otis

They leave the wagon behind after one of the horses falls asleep and doesn’t wake up.

Mum spends a long time in the ditch with Otis while dad sorts through the wagon and picks out his least favorite treasures from under the tarp. Fenrir helps by finding a stick and walking a perimeter, eyes on the gray shale that stretches ahead despite having been traveling for nearly a week. The Jackdogs hadn’t followed them, but other creatures have, a beetle with a fireball for a backpack follows his footsteps while clicking its pincers in a quick little chatter. Fenrir imagines what it might be saying and talks back.

“I’ll take point if you cover our rear,” he whispers to the beetle. “Once the sun goes down, we’ll be able to use the darkness to our advantage. You’ll have to put your flame out though so we can’t be seen.”

The beetle clicks its pincers and tumbles over a broken piece of shale. Fenrir nudges it with the toe of his shoe and ignores how its fireball flares, leveling his sword back in front of him and walking on.

“If we can sneak up on old Snake Tail, we’ll have the advantage. The last time we fought I nearly had him, but he got away at the last second when Mum showed up. But we won’t let that happen again, right?”