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The entrance to the closest tunnel is hidden near an abandoned coffee shop, beneath a wide set of stairs. I don’t relax until the iron grate—warded to keep darklings out—senses Valerian and Asher’s presence and lights up green before opening for Mack.
As the iron clicks shut behind us, an eerie hissing sound fills the air. On the other side, where we stood just moments ago, countless darklings gather. The warded iron gate does its job, repelling them back a few feet—but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.
Asher’s uneasy growl fills the chamber. “Is it just me or are the darklings getting uglier?”
“There’s something deeply wrong about being around them and not putting them out of their misery,” Valerian murmurs.
I cringe as I study the creatures. Knowing they were once human, a part of me wants to feel sorry for them. But they look so different now, so monstrous, so . . . wrong that it’s impossible to find any humanity to connect with.
Their bones are warped and misshapen. Their eyes depthless pits of black. Their faces twisted with hunger and mindless savagery. Any clothes they once possessed are gone, leaving their graying, emaciated flesh exposed.
But it’s the way they move—jerky and inhumanly fast, driven by mindless hunger—that puts them squarely in the not-even-remotely-close-to-human camp. eyes adjust, I realize he’s watching me quietly with that smoldering look I find so unnerving.
His eyes soften as something passes between us. Something more substantial and terrifying than the simple jerk of the physical bond. I fight my gut reaction, which is to smile like a maniac at him.
Summer, stop with the mushy crap and save this beautiful fucker’s life.
I stroll over like I haven’t just spent the last ten minutes in controlled terror, plant my hands on my hips, and toss him a wink. “Ready for me to rescue you, Prince?”
His lips twitch with what I assume is some smart remark, but then he simply says, “I can hardly wait.”
We gather around the kitchen island. Mack shoves a spice rack out of the way, pushes a button on the GPS device, and projects a live map of the city onto the gold-flecked ivory countertop.
“We’re here,” she says, poking a finger at the residential buildings labeled Foggy Bottom. “And we need to get here by sunrise.”
I watch her metallic blue-lacquered fingertip trail down to a swath of parks and ponds before settling on the tall obelisk on the map titled, Washington Monument.
A golden bubble of magic surrounds the obelisk. I stare longingly at the shield that keeps darklings out.
Once we reach that point, we’ll be safe.
Unfortunately, we have miles between us and safety, and hundreds of red dots swarm the streets in between.
Screw you and the centaur you rode in on, Spring Prince.
Gulping noises draw my focus to Ruby. She’s sitting above us on the copper light fixture, legs dangling, in the process of emptying a crystal decanter of some dark purple liquid.
“Ruby!” I scold, using my mom-voice. “Bad!”
Crap, why did I let her come?
She finishes off the bottle, belches, and throws me an innocent look. “What? You saw the map. We’re all going to die; I’m just making sure I die in my happy place.”
Asher growls under his breath, glaring at Ruby. “Why is she here again?”
All dragons have a deep hatred of sprites. Supposedly, during the last war when dragons were nearly eradicated, the sprites were the ones who carried out the poisoning with dragonsbane.
Rubbing my temples, I desperately study the map for a plan. We don’t have enough time to go around the clusters of darklings to reach our goal.
If only Asher and Valerian could both fly us out of here, but . . . no. Our Keepers can’t use any of their powers, including shifting.
Nor can they help us plan in any way, which would be super helpful right now.
No! You can do this without their help. Think. I tap my finger against the churning mass of darklings on the projected map.
“Too bad we can’t go under the city somehow,” I murmur. “If only . . . wait.” I study the tangled meshwork of streets as my pulse quickens. “I thought all major Fae cities have emergency tunnels in case of a surprise darkling attack? If true, the wards that repel darklings could still be intact.”
Valerian runs a finger over the sharp edge of his jaw. “You’re right. Emergency tunnels were constructed beneath the residential areas for a quick evacuation, but they typically lead to a large, centrally-located portal. That portal could be anywhere.”
