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“I hope she’s worth it,” I grunt when Cash moves to join her. He pauses long enough to smirk at me.
“She’s real, unlike the one we refuse to acknowledge.” Leaving me to my own devices, I shake out my arms and crack my neck side to side. This is just a mission, like countless I’ve done before. Get in, get out, leave no traces I was ever there. Limbering up, I stretch my arms, dropping into a lunge.
Cash and Lillianna discuss their plan, my ears picking up on the gist of it. The golden chalice is stashed in a cabinet, guarded by the witch who works in the lab. The type of magic she uses leaves a residue in the cup, discoloring the hue, and there’s our evidence.
As ready as I can be, I make my way toward the pair. Standing behind their lowered whispers, I gain a rare insight to how Cash must have felt all these years. On the outside looking in while I conspired with Arabelle.
Blinking up in awe, Lillianna smiles at Cash the way Arabelle has done to me a million times, and now, I understand the appeal. To feel important to someone, like you’re enough to alter the entire course of their lives with your actions – that’s a concept I know all too well. Taking Lillianna’s lead, we stride for the door she entered through on silent feet. Her hand touches the handle and I bounce lightly on the balls of my feet. Let’s get this chalice and get back to Red Castle, still in time to celebrate with the kingdom. It’s the least Cash and I deserve.
“Before we leave, there is just one more thing,” Cash says. I turn my head just in time to see his hand coming down, a spike of pain flaring at my neck. I stumble, holding the tiny splinter not much bigger than a thorn. He stabbed me. My own twin has actually stabbed me with some unknown substance.
A wash of cold floods my veins, from my neck outwards. Seeping into my blood system, it races through me at an intense rate. My knees buckle, my head swimming with a burst of emotions. Holding the splinter in place, I lower myself onto the ground before I fall. Whatever I do, I mustn’t remove it. My artery will bleed out within minutes.
A shadow falls over me, the sharp sting of a hand tapping my cheek. My entire body is alive, acutely aware of each sensation. The dimmed chandelier above burns my retinas, the sounds of heartbeats and heavy breathing making my ears pulse. The contents of my stomach rushes from me, the acidic burn clinging to my throat after I have nothing left to vomit. Tugging the splinter from my neck, Cash tilts his head into my view.
“The…fuck…done to me,” I gasp, struggling to breathe. I can only just compute this is what complete organ failure feels like before my world fades to black.
“Don’t worry, brother. It’s for your own good.”
34
“You can’t be here,” a deep voice growls into my ear, a cold chest plate pressed against my back. My breathing is labored, my vision still concealed by the hand clamped over my eyes.
“Tweed,” I grit out, betraying the elation blossoming inside. He’s here. But if he feeds me his blood again, I won’t be able to remain in the Shadow Planes and ultimately, find Hatter, so I press my lips together tight.
“It’s not too late to turn around. My foot is jamming the door open. Walk back slowly and we can pretend you weren’t stupid enough to fall for Cash’s lies and leave.” If there was ever something not to say to a stubborn woman, that would be it. Knitting my brows together, I grab ahold of Tweed’s arm and hoist us both forward. The door closes with a soft click, sealing our fates.
“Fuck,” Tweed groans, releasing my eyes. I blink against the harsh lighting, finding no hint of Cash anywhere. To my right, a wall of glass reflects my own image against a background of staircases. On the ground, walls and ceiling, in checkered black and white tiles that blend into each other. Behind my reddened cheeks and wide, blue eyes, Tweed stares at my reflection. The image of fury, his jaw is tight, his expression glacial. Oops.
“You have no one to blame but yourself,” I shrug and take a step forward. One that I completely misjudge, not realizing there was a step amongst the checkers and I pitch forward. Tweed grabs the back of my jacket, slipping it straight off my arms and I tumble. Down, down, off to the side and then I’m free falling. A scream is torn from my throat, a sea of squares zooming towards me. Swimming my arms through the air, my fingers graze a platform and I somehow manage to grab ahold. Yanking my shoulders, I grunt, my fingers clawing at the tile and slipping fast.
Appearing over me, Tweed rolls his eyes and grabs my hands, dragging me upwards. Heaving me the last few feet, he drops me on the ground and kneels, his glare slamming into me with more force than the floor would have.
“You really think you could survive the Nightshade Trial? You couldn’t even make it one step.”
“Maybe I just wanted to prove you would save me.” I throw the back of my hand to my forehead, using my talent to be overdramatic to cover the erratic pounding of my heart. Tweed purses his lips and strides away. I groan at the pain spiking through my shoulders, rolling aside to see his military boots disappearing around a corner. My jacket, slung over his shoulder, flaps out of view and I scramble to catch up.
“Give me that,” I drag the jacket from him and onto me, checking Mr. Budgerigar. He’s asleep, I hope, nestled in a handkerchief bed I don’t remember being there. Tweed leans against the side of a staircase, folding his inked arms out the chest plate on his front. The red heart printed on his left peck reflects the tattoo I know to be underneath, both mocking me with his allegiance to the enemy. Cargos cover the thick muscles of his legs, his ankles crossed.
“Tell me you have a plan by trapping us in here,” he drawls, already knowing I never do. Plans are the foe of spontaneity, in the same way lists are an organizational construct I refuse to conform to. The day I sit and write a to-do list, I might as well take a gun to my own head and blast my bland brain cells all over the ground. But Tweed doesn’t need to know any of that.
“Of course I have a plan. Find the damn playing card and use Lilliana’s army to storm the Red Castle. You’d better kiss your bed-full of whores goodbye, since you can’t hide Hatter from a girl on a mission.” I flick my waist-long braid over my shoulder and stride on by.
“Still jealous then?” Tweed cocks a brow just before I pass and I curse internally. Not looking back, I trip up the rise of a step I couldn’t see and huff at myself. Get a grip Malice, stop thinking with your heart.
Placing a finger in front of my nose, I stare at it until my eyes un-focus enough for the staircase before me to present itself. It’s an optical illusion, and that’s some funky shit I mastered in Charmsfield. We had a library section dedicated to them, until Nutty Jack decided there was a conspiracy in the hidden images and burnt it down. Seeing the staircase in its entirety now, I race up it, keeping my vision hazy until my eyes become strained. Every turn I take, Tweed is right behind. His judgmental eyes waiting for me to fuck up.
“If you’re so sure I’m not worth saving, then why the fuck are you here?” I whip around, being slapped by my own braid. Tweed stops a few steps back, leaning against a slanted staircase to look me up and down.
“You think too highly of yourself. I’m here to stop you from ruining everything Arabelle has put in place. Lilliana will not return as long as I am here to prevent it.” I ball my fists and then outstretch them on an exhale. I did not spend nine years locked in an institution, dealing with diagnosed psychopaths on a daily basis to be riled up by a male. A gorgeously dangerous male I’d rather silence between my thighs than look at me like a piece of trash as he is now.
“Where is Chels when I need her? Chels!” I call out, hunting for the ceiling. I’m not even sure which way is up, but I continue to shout regardless.
“There’s no magic in the Shadow Planes, or have you not been paying attention?” Feeling Tweed’s presence close in on me, I spin to slap him, my hand in mid-air when I pause. His blonde hair has fallen free of its naturally pushed back position, covering his brows and shifting with each blink of his lashes. His eyes, as intense as they are, have dulled to seaweed green. His skin is creamy in color, smooth with a hint of pink at his not-so-hollow cheeks. When his lips part to exhale harshly, there’s no fangs to be seen. “Paying attention now, are we?” he remarks. My heart stops. There’s no magic in the Shadow Planes, which means…no vampires.
“You…you’re human in here,” I breathe, stepping backwards. My footing slips from the side of the staircase and Tweed rushes forward, grabbing the lapels of my jacket.
“Human, perhaps, but not completely useless.” Returning me to safety, Tweed gives me a gentle shove away. Not enough to knock me off the other side of the platform, but enough to prove a point. He’s mad at me for trapping him in here. Particularly in a weaker form. Taking the lead, he strolls up a staircase that turns on itself and cuts over my head.
