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I shake my head with a look that screams, Frick if I know.
The way they’re positioned as if on a grid, spread out equally, sniffing the air at measured turns . . . it’s almost as if they’re methodically searching for something.
Only darklings don’t search for things, and they aren’t capable of setting up a refined search grid. They mindlessly attack and munch on the Fae like crazed zombies.
At least, that’s what we’ve been taught. But if Valerian is right, if this is like the attack on Starfall Island, and the attack last year . . . someone is controlling them.
I check my phone but the signal is gone. Don’t panic. Don’t think about how you’re trapped, alone in a room full of flesh-eating zombies, sweating like a sinner in church.
I. Need. To. Get. A. Grip. Wetting my bone-dry lips, I whisper, “They know we’re down
here. We just need to stay quiet and wait until they come for us.”
All at once, the darklings grow frenzied. Somehow, they’ve broken through the vault doors leading to the forbidden weapon side, and they funnel through the iron doors. The chamber fills with the sounds of violence as the darklings clash with the lovely unlaggin orc that guards the other side.
Then . . . silence. Nerve wracking, gut twisting silence. Never in my life did I think I’d be rooting this hard for a cyclops orc.
When the darklings return from the forbidden vault a few minutes later, there’s markedly less of them. The unlaggin, at least, took out a fair number of them.
But not Evelyn. She leads the group, her arm cradling something metallic and small inside her hand. A weapon, maybe?
“Looks like they’re leaving,” Jace breathes, his voice tinny with relief.
“Thank God.” I squeeze Mack’s arm, ready to hop up and run as soon as they’re gone.
Ruby squirms inside the front pouch of my onesie. The heat from my sweaty body is probably smothering her. Without thinking, I unbutton the top of the pouch.
Before I can so much as put a finger to my lips, she shoots past me into the air.
Crap. “Ruby,” I whisper-yell. “Get back here.”
Ruby turns around to look in my direction, but she forgets to stop flying, and I watch, horrified, as she slams into a mannequin holding an iridescent breastplate and helmet made of petrified wood.
As if in slow motion, the helmet careens sideways, slips off the mannequin’s head, and crashes to the floor.
“Oopsie!” Ruby trills before diving into my pouch.
Thirty darklings rush us at once. Blood hammers in my ears, nearly drowning out their hissing snarls. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
I wrench a steel helmet from nearby and widen my stance, prepared to fight to the death.
The first darkling hits so fast I don’t even see it coming. Pain crashes over my skull as my head connects with the floor. Dizziness slams into me. Shadows circle my vision.
Where is it? The others are fighting around me. They need my help.
Get up! I stumble to my feet, swinging my makeshift weapon. Ruby zips around my head, casting spell after spell to try and confuse the horde.
Another darkling knocks me off my feet. Fire rockets up my arm. Blood. My blood. The smell hits the darklings instantly, sending them into a wild fervor.
Zombies are about to dine on your flesh, Summer, unless you awaken your inner badass.
“I AM NOT FOOD!” I roar.
I kick out, catching a darkling square in the face. The creature stumbles back, shakes its head, and then crouches low, prepared to lunge.
“This is it,” Mack whispers as we press together, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I love you, Summer.”
Even though we’re seconds from dying, I feel a sense of pride swell to fill me. “Being your best friend was the highlight of my life.”
