I take a couple steps into the trees and fight back a shiver. The air was hardly balmy without the sun warming the sky, but within the trees, it’s downright frigid. “I get it, okay. Creepy forest. Spooky chills.” I wave my fingers. This is fine. There’s no one else around. If I have to talk myself through this fear in order to keep going, then it’s a small enough price to pay. It’s not like anyone is witnessing this weakness.
The eyes in the distance have disappeared, and I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. The creature they belong to may have decided I am more troublesome than I’m worth … or it may be stalking me right now.
Cheerful thoughts. Happy thoughts.
I pull out the dagger I lifted from Bowen and press its tip to my thumb. Not all magic needs a blood component, but it’s a nifty shortcut in a pinch. My tattoos do most of the heavy lifting. Each one is inked with a specific combination of components unique to that particular spell, and I have to reink them after I’ve used up that particular spell. Some of them are single-use only. Some I can tap a few times before I need to recharge them. Either way, the tattoos are one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Putting in extra effort for no damn reason doesn’t make you a saint. Efficiency isn’t a bad thing, as long as you don’t forget your roots.
If I get stuck in Threshold any longer, I’ll be forced back to those roots. Somehow, I don’t think they have tattoo guns lying around. I want to get out here before I have to find out.
I am most definitely stalling.
I press my thumb to the glyph that triggers a medium-strength defensive spell I can hold for a prolonged period of time. It won’t save me from getting bruised up, but it should stop a killing blow.
Now there’s nothing left but to get moving. I curse under my breath and pick the direction where the trees seem not quite so impossible to navigate. “I can do this. I have to do this.” I take three large steps …
And run face-first into an invisible wall.
I bounce back and land on my ass, my nose smarting fiercely. “What the actual fuck?”
Something grabs me by my ankle and lifts me into the air. I fire off a spell on instinct, but there’s nothing to make contact with. It just flies off into the trees with a faint sizzle. When I bend and grasp at my ankle for the rope that must have snared me, my fingers find nothing to unwind. Only air. I’m not being held in a trap of any earthly making. It’s magic. And I know only one aggravating motherfucker who can move things with his mind.
I twist and flail, my hair making it nearly impossible to see. “Where are you, you asshole?”
“That’s a bold statement coming from a vow breaker.” His voice sounds near me, but not too near.
I don’t know whether to be incensed or relieved that Bowen is the one responsible for my current predicament. On one hand, it means he anticipated my escape and was out here laying a trap for me. On the other hand, it’s not some new enemy to contend with. For better or worse, Bowen is somewhat of a known factor. At least in theory.
“Let me go.”
“So you can run again?” He scoffs out of sight. “I don’t think so. You and I are going to have a frank conversation.”
Not this again. Surely he can’t be so intentionally dense that he thinks he’ll convince me to see things his way. Yes, I’ve been a bit of a liar. But all that is out in the open now. There’s not much I can say to make him believe I won’t run again, and rightfully so. “How about, instead of doing that, you go find a dead horse to beat?”
He’s silent for several moments too long. “I am assuming that is some kind of metaphor, because the alternative seems out of character for you.”
For fuck’s sake. How am I supposed to talk to this man? I realize I’m in another realm with different cultural touch points, but it still feels like talking to someone’s great-grandfather who’s barely come to terms with the moving pictures on his television. I drag in a deep breath and strive for patience. “Bowen, put me down.”
Instead of listening, his magic turns me to face him and gathers my hair away from my face. That, more than anything else he’s done since I’ve met him, terrifies me. I’ve met telekinetics from time to time, enough to know that the big explosions of power are actually the easy moves. It’s the small, delicate tasks that require the most control.
Bowen doesn’t hurt me. He doesn’t snag even a single strand of hair. Holy shit.
“I understand you aren’t the kind of person whose nature it is to take threats seriously.” He moves out of the darkness between two trees and crouches in front of me, a few feet away. Gods, but he’s a handsome fucker. I didn’t think he was going to win any beauty pageants when I first saw him, but it seems like he only gets more attractive every time I look at him. His broad shoulders block out what little light there is; they even seem to block out the rain still cascading down around us. He snaps his fingers in front of my face, forcing me to focus on him. “Take me seriously now, Evelyn. You say you know the reputation of the C?n Annwn. What do we do?”
I’m still too freaked out by his display of control to come up with a smart-ass comment. “You hunt,” I say through numb lips.
“Yes, we hunt.” He leans forward, his dark eyes devastatingly serious. “If you run, you will force us to hunt you. You will force me to hunt you.”
“I am—”
He keeps going as if I hadn’t tried to speak. “Leaving Threshold won’t be enough to save you. While the C?n Annwn don’t normally hunt in the other realms themselves, there are times when it’s necessary to do so. A rogue member of our group is one of them. This isn’t something you can outrun, Evelyn. Hunting is what we do. When we find you—and we will—there will be no trial, no opportunity to use your witty words to defend yourself. We will rip you limb from limb and paint the ground bloody. Do you understand me?”
I can’t catch my breath. I want to blame the buzzing in my head from being upside down, but fear is its true source. Because he’s not blustering. He’s not yelling or making ostentatious threats. He’s merely stating a future as if it’s a given.
If I run, they will kill me.
Tomorrow, I will tell myself that I wasn’t about to piss my pants in terror. Tomorrow, I will start thinking of a future where I can work around this inevitability. Tomorrow …
Right now, all thoughts have fled from my brain. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I am trying to protect you.”
Bowen doesn’t want to hurt me. I think I knew that, but it’s never been clearer than it is in this moment. By all rights, my sneaking off the ship should count as breaking my vow. I certainly intended for it to. And yet he’s not ripping my limbs from my body and painting the forest with my blood.
Yes, he’s holding me captive. But he sounds so fucking exhausted that I have the strangest urge to give him a hug. I don’t know what the hell that’s about.
“I need you to tell me that you understand me, Evelyn.”
Just like that, whatever fight I have left drains away. At least for now. I nod, and even as scared as I am, I still note the fact that he adjusts his magical hold on my hair to ensure it doesn’t pull. Who is this man? To be so careful with me, and yet deliver one of the most horrific threats I’ve ever experienced. Because he’s not bluffing. He threatens the same way Lizzie does: A statement of fact. An explanation of consequences.