Ruthless Vows (Letters of Enchantment, #2)(54)

“It’s all right,” Iris said. “It was good that I went.”

She didn’t explain why, although Attie tilted her head to the side, curious. Later, Iris would tell her everything. When the sun rose, and Iris could convince herself that Roman hadn’t been a phantom of her imagination. Because a part of her still felt softened from his hand and his words, like the entire encounter had only been a reverie.

Iris touched her finger, the groove that her wedding ring had left behind, and leaned her head back until her gaze was on the stars. She thought the constellations had never looked so close or so lovely.



* * *



“Do you see that? There’s something flashing in my rearview mirror.”

Tobias’s soft but urgent words woke Iris.

She didn’t know how long she had dozed—two minutes or maybe half an hour—and she sat forward, rubbing the crick in her neck. Her friends weren’t looking ahead but behind, and she turned in the seat, squinting into the darkness.

“I see it,” Attie said, just as Iris also discerned a pinprick of red-hued light in the distance. “But what is it?”

Another orb of light. And then a third, until they were in a line, growing steadily larger. Hearts, Iris realized. They were incandescent hearts, beating through pale, translucent skin.

“It’s the hounds,” she said, her stomach twisting into a knot. “Dacre’s set the hounds on us.”

Attie spun back around to lean closer to Tobias. “Erm, Bexley? Don’t panic, but you need to drive a bit faster now.”

“A bit faster?” Tobias cried over the steady roar of the engine. “I’m already in gear five.”

“Please tell me there’s a gear six, then. Or a seven.”

Tobias looked over his shoulder, the moonlight dousing his face in silver.

Iris wondered if he knew the old myths and recognized the lights as unnatural hearts. Or maybe he saw the long legs and bared teeth, which were coming into sharp focus. Tobias turned back around and shifted the roadster into the next gear.

The motorcar gave a lurch of protest. Iris closed her eyes, hair tangling over her wind-burned face. All she could think was Please, please don’t break down. Not here, not now.

“They’re gaining on us, Bexley,” said Attie. “God’s bones, how are they so fast?”

“They were made for speed, but not stamina.” Tobias shifted again. The engine revved in complaint before the car’s speed began to markedly dwindle.

“Tobias, are we slowing down?” Attie asked, incredulous.

“Yes, I’m gearing down.” He adjusted his rearview mirror. The hounds’ hearts reflected in his eyes, but he seemed calm, collected. “I’ve stressed the engine enough as it is, and I need it to power up again.”

“All right. We’re going to let the hounds reach us, and then what?”

“Trust me,” he said, so softly that the wind almost stole the words.

Attie opened her mouth, but she only sighed at his behest.

Iris took that tense but quiet moment to look behind again. She could see the hounds clearly now. Beasts the size of unnaturally large wolves, their mouths shining with caches of sharp teeth. Their eyes were like coals and their paws struck the ground like lightning.

“Tobias,” Iris said. “I think…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Tobias was silent, but his eyes were trained on the hounds’ reflection in the rearview mirror. As if he were counting their steps, the shrinking distance, the speed, the acceleration. The possibility of impact.

The roadster geared down again. It felt like they were crawling along the road.

“Listen to me,” Tobias said, his voice vibrant in the dark. Confident, like he was no stranger to racing hounds on country back roads. “I’m going to outrun them, but you need to trust me and you need to remain low and safe in the cab. Take hold of the rope handle in front of you. Whatever happens, don’t let go.”

The girls grasped the handle, Tobias waiting for Attie to give him a nod. In the next breath, he hit the brakes. As the roadster came to a screeching halt, the hounds soared over them.

Iris could feel the frigid air that haunted their long legs, rushing a mere arm’s length above her head. Their claws stirred her hair, and she could smell the dank, rotten scent of their flesh. She could nearly taste the under realm—shadows that were never touched by light, stone floors that were slick with blood—as time moved achingly slow. It felt like a year had come and gone with the hounds arcing overhead like three meteors, the roadster shuddering beneath her.

But when the hounds hit the ground before them, the world came back to alarming focus. Two of Dacre’s creatures seemed confused, but one turned around quickly to double back.

Tobias was ready for it.

He smoothly shifted the engine into first gear, then second, the roadster leaping forward. At the last minute, he cut the motorcar sharply, and they spun in a tight circle.

The tension in Iris’s chest was almost unbearable, as if gravity had been suspended. She was rising from the floorboard like she had been caught in a levitating spell, her mother’s locket hovering before her face. A flash of gold that reminded her to hold on, don’t let go.

The side of the roadster slammed into the returning hound’s hind leg. There was a sickening crunch followed by a piercing keen.