Page 93 of Fate of a Faux


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“In the human world, this would be called tequila. Without the texture...”

She laughs, resting her hand on the armchair as a couple of naked women begin dancing around the fire. Their crimson hair blows in the wind as they move to the music. For a second, I’m painfully aware of my surroundings. The two heavyset men standing protectively behind Haide, and the party that’s unfolding in front of us.

“These buildings?” I point up to the abandoned skyscrapers that line both sides of the dusted street. It looks like New York City ten years after an apocalypse. “Do people stay in them?”

Haide shrugs, turning her chair to face me more. “Some do. Others don’t. Like me...” her head tilts. “When are you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?” There are three things I want to ask her, so I’m going to need her to be more specific.

“If I’m going to help you save them?”

I pale, lowering my drink slowly to my lap. “Out of the three things I wanted to ask you, that wasn’t one of them.”

She smirks, and the way it curves over her perfectly straight teeth is criminal. Alarm bells should be ringing, but there’s also something about her aura that’s warm. She reminds me of a Black Tourmaline crystal. Dark, mysterious, sexy, grounded, and tough as fuck. “Well?”

I turn to face the masses, to see they’ve all broken off into groups, or are dancing in front of the fire, listening to music and drinking. I didn’t expect something so... human.

“I don’t know if I can trust you enough to ask you.” I should ask her how she knows about it, but I’ve given up on asking that same question. I only ever get the same response.

“Try me.”

I gesture out to the party. “Why didn’t they kill me?”

“Because you hold darkness inside of you that we bow to. I sensed it the moment you arrived. Next question.”

I shift around to face her. “Why would you help me?”

She leans close, the tip of her nose almost touching mine as she looks between my mouth and my eyes. “Because I’m bored.”

My eyes narrow. “Not good enough.”

“Because I can,” she answers honestly, her eyes widening slightly. She lifts her hand up and clicks her fingers, as dark smoke explodes around us with a bang. Glitter and black vapor rain from the sky, and I bring my hand up to cover my mouth, holding in my cough. The air thins out once again, only this time everyone who was here is now gone—including the two guards who were standing behind her.

“How’d you do that?” I ask, skeptical but intrigued. I don’t know how to read her. She’s nothing like I’ve ever met before.

“Magic. The only kind that Icando.”

I search her dark eyes, convinced she’s got to be a siren. “How?”

She studies my face closely. Seconds pass, until I think she’s not going to answer. “I was born here, Villaina.”

I lean back in my chair. Once again, the words have been taken out of my mouth. “Really? What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t exist.” She blinks over my shoulder slightly, before coming back to me, shuffling forward even further, her voice nothing but a whisper. “It means I can get people out...”

I pause, my pulse hammering. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” She winces. The sad frown I expected to see doesn’t come. The girl is cold as stone. “I wish I was.”

“So why are you still here if you can get people out?” I hiss harshly, afraid people can hear and put her in danger, which makes no sense since I shouldn’t give any fucks at all. I’ve only just met her, and technically, she left me for dead.

She shakes her head, the braid plaited into the side of her head moving over her shoulder. “I don’t want to. This is my home, it’s all I’ve ever known.” Her smirk is back. “But you? You, I can help.”

“I don’t know if you can. My nightmares aren’t exactly reliable.” I roll my eyes, annoyed with myself and how many I've had since meeting Knight.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Villaina...” she laughs, standing. “They’re all a message. You just have to figure out who the message is from.” She takes my hand with hers and I take a moment to look at it. Her wrist is decorated with leather bangles and charms. She’s a contradiction to all the ugliness Knight’s mind holds about this hellhole of an island.

Standing to my full height, which is not much beside her, I chew on my lip. “I saw red. Blood. Death. I think—” I hold her eyes. “I think they’re hurt, but they’re not dead.”

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