The boy, the one who held the knife to my throat, winced again. Guilt? Was that guilt? I so wished I was better at reading people.
“Keep that knife to her fucking throat, Filip,” the man snapped, then smiled at me—a horrible expression, like a snarling wolf. “What? What will you give us instead?”
“I—”
My mind wouldn’t work. The gears were sticky and slow with exhaustion. He reached for the bag again, and I said, “No. Please. I’ll give you double what it’s worth once I’m home.”
“Once you’re home?” the man scoffed. “Oh, I trust you.”
The other men laughed. Filip looked pained. My gaze flicked to his, though he avoided looking at me.
Mina would try to connect with him. She’d know what to say to make him let me go.
“Filip?”
His eyes reluctantly lifted to mine.
I should have had some moving plea, some emotional words for him. But emotions and sentimentality had never been my strong suit. Instead, I told him the truth.
“I’m not lying to you,” I said. “I will double what that bag is worth. I promise you.”
And I did, I really did, mean it.
But the older man’s smile curdled to a sneer. “Do you think we’re stupid, girl?”
I bit back a surge of frustration.
Why were humans so illogical? I was offering them a good deal. A good trade. More money. And yet, I couldn’t make them believe me.
“We’ll take your dress instead,” the man said.
Filip’s grip on the knife loosened again. His head whipped to the man, like he was going to say something and then stopped himself.
I was confused. I looked down at myself. My dress might have been worth something a decade ago. Now it was old and stained, the hem tattered from my journey.
“The dress is worth nothing,” I said, annoyed. “I’m offering you a better deal.”
“I’ll take something I can have now over your empty promises.”
“But it’s—”
The man snatched the knife away from Filip, thrusting it against my throat. A shock of pain that seemed distant slithered over my skin. Something warm and wet ran down my throat. “I don’t need your fucking arguments,” the man hissed. “Take it off or I cut it off you.”
I was grateful for my irritation, because it dimmed my fear.
“I can’t take it off if you don’t give me room,” I said, attempting to move my hands to my buttons to demonstrate—he was in the way.
The man stepped back reluctantly, pulling Filip along with him.
I looked at the newly opened space between us, a pang of desperate longing in my chest. There it was. Four feet of space between me and my assailants, and endless possibility I couldn’t seize.
I had always been quite comfortable with who I was. I was never the athlete, the warrior, the runner, the magic wielder. I had plenty of other skills. But now, I longed to be someone else. Someone who could take advantage of this moment, cut these men down, and free myself.
Instead, I was helpless, just as I had been helpless against the illness that took bite after bite of everything I loved.
I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t run.
So I started unbuttoning my dress.
I made it three buttons down when I heard a strange sound behind me, like a great unnatural rustling of air. A shadow fell over the streak of moonlight that illuminated Filip’s face.
His eyes went wide.
I started to turn around, but before I could, a blur of movement swept from behind me. Something warm spattered over my face.
Before me, a sword impaled Filip’s chest. I took in the image of him standing there—eyes wide, like he hadn’t yet realized what had happened to him—for only a split second, before chaos erupted.
I stumbled backwards. I couldn’t see anything—in the darkness, I just saw limbs and movement and chaos. I tried to seize the chance to get away, but the bearded man grabbed me.
“Back off!” he called out, into the night. “I’ll kill her!”
His voice shook.
The figure, who until now had been a smear of shadow, turned.
Vale.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating—from exhaustion, or the blow to my head, or both.
But no. Unmistakable. It was him.
And gods, he was a monster. I now understood why people whispered of him the way they did. This was what I had been expecting to see that first time I met him—a shepherd of death itself. He looked like he had come very quickly, his clothing thrown on hurriedly, his hair messy and unbound and now whipping about his face.
And his wings… they were incredible.
They were fair, which I hadn’t been expecting—silvery-white, ghostlike in the night. Even in this moment, I wished I could examine them, appreciate them for the marvel of engineering that they were.
Vale took in my captor, face cold.
My eyes fell to Filip’s body, bleeding out on the ground. His hand twitched, reaching up—reaching for his friend.
I felt ill.
Vale lunged.
Pain erupted through my shoulder. I hit the ground so hard I heard something crunch.
I couldn’t move. I tried to push myself up and couldn’t.
A heavy weight fell to the ground beside me. My attacker’s bloody, vacant face stared into mine. Behind him, I could make out only blurry shapes—the white of Vale’s wings, the red of blood, and the shadowy silhouettes of body after body hitting the ground.
Wait, I tried to say. Stop.
But I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t move.
The screams of pain faded into a distant din.
I fought hard for my consciousness, fought just as hard as I had been fighting for answers my entire life, but it slipped away from me anyway.
The last thing I felt were strong arms around me, and the strange, weightless sensation of being lifted up… and gods, I must have been hallucinating after all, because I could have sworn I even turned my head once to see the trees so far below me they looked like stalks of broccoli.
What a strange dream, I thought to myself, as it all faded away.
CHAPTER NINE
I was surrounded by softness. Soft and sleek and… something wonderful. I rolled around and felt silk sliding over my skin.
Silk.
I’d never slept in silk.
My eyes opened. My head pounded. My skin was hot and clammy. I struggled to catch my breath. It had been a long time since I felt this way—so weak, so ill.
When I lifted my head, it felt like an iron weight. I forced myself up anyway.
I was in a bed that was literally triple the size of the one that I slept in at home. The sheets were black silk, the bedspread violet velvet. It was dark in here, lit only by a couple of dusty lanterns that looked like they hadn’t been used in a very long time. None of this, actually, looked like it had been used in a very long time—the furniture was all fine but mismatched and outdated, assembled from many different decades, none of them within the last fifty years.
I rubbed my eyes. The events of the night felt like a dream.
But they weren’t. It had happened, and now I was here.
In Vale’s home.
I had been unconscious in a vampire’s home.
I touched my neck, just to make sure—
“I promise I did not eat you.”
Vale’s voice was low and smooth with amusement.