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“I give you leave to withdraw,” Shay offers, although her words are bitten out sharp and if Ares doesn’t take what’s being given, I’m about to be one-less nephew.
And I’ll never hear the end of it from my brother.
Given that Ares considers himself a fighter, a warrior, above all else, there’s no way he’s going to back down unless I encourage him toward it.
Gritting my teeth, I intervene.
“This is an impasse,” I say, trying for diplomacy. “Ares, back off. The key is not yours, and you are not having it tonight.”
Cyrus echoes my sentiment with a low growl. Ares’ eyes flick to my attack dog, strange in human form, but still dangerous none-the-less.
Ares grits his teeth and looks past me, to Katy, who’s huddled against my side, shivering in the deep freeze that is chilling theair all around us.
“Don’t even threaten it, whelp,” Shay tells him, and he spits a curse at her, lifting his hands in thwarted rage. The fires answer his call, lighting boiling around him, and in a loud crack, he disappears.
In his wake, the ice has melted under his feet, leaving scorched ground.
“Thank you,” I murmur, and Shay’s gaze meets mine.
“We must discuss the matter of the key, and the gates,” she says. Her words are heavy. “And soon. Avoiding the topic helps no-one, least of all her.” She glances at Katy, who’s wide-eyed and has the loudest heartbeat of any mortal I’ve ever heard. “And Cyrus,” my faithful friend growls in response to his name, turning to her. “You are going to come back to us now, to your master, and obey. Do you understand? Your time ranging the wilds is over.”
He makes a grumbling sound of agreement, which surprises me. He’s been away for so long... and my heart aches to see him again. At least he’s well. When he’s not trying to kill or kidnap Katy, I think I actually miss him.
“Can we go inside? I’m freezing here,” Katy pipes up, and I glance down at her, warring with the feelings in my heart. She nearly died tonight, many times over, and I wonder if she even knows it. Yes, I’m going to take her back to the club, and she’s going to regret ever setting foot outside without me at her side.
23
Katy
And to think it all started with a desire for a Snickers bar. Now we’re walking back into the most infamous nightclub in Detroit, with the prodigal son at our side.
Cyrus keeps throwing me looks like he wants to murder me or smother me protectively underneath him, and I’m not sure which one is the better way. He barely says two words to Hadrion when we get to the velvet rope. Curious glances from patrons have me feeling antsy. Did anyone see what happened? Shay assures me nobody did. And even if they had, her words ring in my head,
Mortals rarely take miracles in front of them as truth. They dismiss it as too fantastical to be believed. Do not worry, the very human habit of not believing your own eyes has kept us safe from discovery tonight.
“Get inside,” Hadrion’s voice is a growl as he glares down at me, setting my spine tense. The bouncer nod to us, giving Cyrus an odd look. Hadrion jerks his head in a sharp shake, and the bouncer lets us all by.
Inside, a wall of sound hits me, and the club’s still hopping, the music pulsing, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. It feels like we’ve stepped into another world, a world where everything is normal and there’s no ancient gods and beasts, no talking animals, and no keys that control the gates of the Underworld.
“You’re angry,” I murmur, and the words are stupid, but they’re the only ones I can find.
“Deal with Cyrus, Shay, keep him on a short leash,” he orders his close friend, and she nods, putting a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder.
“Let’s get a drink,” she offers him, like he hadn’t tried to kill me in this very club only a few days ago. “And speak of better times.”
I watch them go, until Hadrion taps me on the shoulder, gesturing toward the back of the room. He wants out of here, but I know what’s going to happen if I go.
He’s going to yell at me.
“Katy,” Hadrion’s tone is tight, and when he sees the stubbornness on my face, he grabs my wrist. I yelp, and he’s walking fast, pushing his way through the crowd, dandling me by the arm as I’m dragged along behind him. “This isn’t the place to talk.”
“Oh, really?” I can’t keep the anger out of my own voice, and it’s bubbling up, hot and fierce. “It’s not the place to talk, but it’s the place to almost get killed? Or to watch you almost die? Again?”
He stops and turns to look at me, his expression hard.
“You shouldn’t have left,” he says, and there’s an ache in his voice.
“What does it matter to you?” I push him, and it’s unfair, and I know it, but I can’t help myself.
