Thirty

Back to reality in the Crow’s compound, Zaire lifted his hand. The heavy chains clanked, a hollow sound in the white room with its cameras monitoring his every move. Wearing a form stored by his dreamcaster was nothing like absorbing the demons and having them in his mind, nattering and taunting. He was in full control, and the demon was as silent as the voices exorcised from his head.

It was glorious.

Silver symbols etched the manacles around his wrists and ankles, as well as every chain holding him. Whoever had planned his trap had prepared well, but he wasn’t technically a demon now, and no number of wards and symbols could hold him. A simple Change into human and he could slip out of the cuffs, tear down the door, and rip apart anyone who crossed his path.

After Quinn freed Braden.

Damnation. He hated pretending to be trapped, uselessly waiting around while his dreamcaster entered danger without his protection. So much could go wrong, and she was so small, so easily broken. No matter how brilliantly she could fight, one strike, one bullet, one bite could bring her down.

He closed his eyes. If he couldn’t trust her, they had no future together. And for once, a future was possible. He wouldn’t do anything to damage the unexpected gift.

The cell door shook and opened, giving access to a guard he recognized. Young, dark-haired, and new to the Crows. Went by Olly. Interesting. A different guard every time meant he couldn’t learn their weaknesses and fears, break them down. But he remembered every face, extracted a few names, and always memorized their life rhythm to use later, to hunt and destroy once he was free. A familiar guard meant one of two things—either the Crows had run out of trustworthy guards…

Or they suspected something.

Olly stepped inside—not close enough to reach—and visually checked the chains.

Zaire allowed the demon to smile and licked his lips. “I’m hungry.” He nearly shivered with glee at the menace dripping from his voice, especially when Olly blanched, a newbie Crow tell. A true V’alkara would rather die than show fear. “Come closer, meat.”

Collecting himself, Olly straightened his T-shirt and met Zaire’s gaze without wetting himself. So he wasn’t completely weak. “You can have something to eat, Demon Master, when Gibson says so.” He flashed some teeth as his Adam’s apple jerked. “Might be a while. He’s still miffed about his fingers. He’s taking his time, deciding how best to make your nephew squeal.”

Zaire bit back a growl. A demon wouldn’t care about Braden, and he didn’t believe Gibson would do anything more to Braden, not yet. Not while his control seemed to have wavered. He let the demon’s leash slip a notch and unfurled his mighty wings to their full span, each tip touching a wall. Shadows skirted the baseboards and curled like tendrils of smoke around his ankles.

Olly backed up a step, his eyes wide, hand fumbling for the door. His phone rang, and he answered. Gripping the doorknob, apparently, gave the fool a misguided sense of safety. He looked at Zaire. “Yeah, still here. Still chained.”

His heartrate picked up. This was it. Quinn had rescued Braden. All he needed was confirmation, and every living soul in this compound would die before he flew to freedom. To his future.

Still listening, all tension faded from Olly’s expression. “Sure, I’ll tell him.” He stuck the phone back into his pocket and met Zaire’s gaze, his hand still on the doorknob. “It seems unknown forces attempted to rescue your nephew. The bad news? They were successful.”

Zaire released a feral smile and flicked out his demon claws, one by one. “Shame.”

Olly turned the doorknob. “But the good news is that we now have the woman who aided in his rescue. Even better, she happens to be a dreamcaster.”

The world darkened into a cloud of claiming red, and Zaire’s rage dragged him down a hole where he knew only three facts: the Crows had Quinn, the V’alkara had Braden, and he was going to rip the world apart.

A minute passed in shards of endless seconds. Shrieking. Scarlet-coated fury. The sweet release of mindless violence.

When the haze cleared, Zaire stood at the center of the room, panting. Blood coated his hands and sprayed the white walls and floor. Olly’s hand remained gripping the doorknob. The rest of him was in unrecognizable pieces. Red lights flashed a warning, a dull reflection of his prior frenzy, and the screaming in his ears wasn’t in his mind. An alarm blared through the compound, no doubt triggered by whoever monitored the cameras mounted near the ceiling.

Adrenaline pumped hard, making him shake. Maybe he shouldn’t have annihilated the messenger, not that he had enough control to prevent it. Not when Quinn—

He squeezed his eyes shut, savagery a living force in his veins. The Crows had Quinn, and the V’alkara had Braden. He couldn’t be enslaved to both. Neither would allow it. And he couldn’t choose between his nephew and his dreamcaster, the only two people who mattered to him. He sank to his haunches and folded his wings, uncaring of the blood and bits of flesh everywhere. They were all doomed.

And if they were all doomed…

A wave of icy calm flowed through him, centering. He straightened and spread his wings in a whisper of feathers. If it was hopeless, he knew how his end would go. He may never have the life with Quinn that they’d both dreamed about or give Braden the safe childhood he deserved, but he’d give them all a death both the Crows and V’alkara would never forget.

Zaire ripped off the cell door in one easy tug and flung it over his shoulder. The hallway was empty of everything beyond the flashing red light and shrieking alarm. He slid into the shadows and traveled through the darkness, his fury an icy lake around his heart.

A Crow ran across his path, and Zaire emerged from the gloom right in front of him. Before the man even had time to scream, Zaire clawed out his throat and joined the shadows once more, in search of the next enemy.

Faster than he wanted, he cleared the Crow compound and stood outside the front door. The alarm, unfortunately, had been heeded by too many of those he wished to destroy. Most of the Crows had fled, leaving his vengeance unfulfilled. He Changed forms, switching from demon to hellfire, set the building behind him ablaze, and Changed back to demon.

Black fingers of flame consumed the offering with gleeful murmurs, and the intense heat nearly blistered his demon skin, but Zaire watched until only ash remained. It took mere seconds.

From his pocket, he removed the centipede leg Quinn had found at Jenny’s house, the evidence of guilt Caius had foolishly left. A distant trill, like that of an unseen cricket, called a direct line to the former V’alkara. Even if Caius weren’t one of Braden’s tormenters, he’d still played a part. He still needed to pay. They all had to pay.

Unfurling his wings, Zaire took to the sky.

***

Traveling half by flight, half by shadow brought Zaire to Caius faster than humanly possible. Along the way, he probed for Quinn and found nothing. Their bond alone should have been bright as a beacon, a constant tug on his soul that he could follow anywhere, yet he couldn’t sense her. The frozen wasteland surrounding his heart did not allow for any emotional response to that knowledge, but the darkness deep inside him trembled.

The winter wind snaked through his feathers and bit at his face as he banked closer to the vast forest below him. Caius wasn’t far away. Anticipation tightened in his chest.

On a whim, he probed for Braden. He’d done the same so often since the Crows took him with no results that the sudden bell in his ears, strong and close, nearly dropped him from the sky. His pulse pounded. Braden was below him, somewhere in the trees.

Zaire tucked his wings and dove, the air whistling past his scales. He veered past limbs and tree trunks, ducked shrubs and branches, homing in on his nephew. Ahead, following a hiking path, Braden scrambled along with a backpack—the ice inside deepened—with the Black V’alkara’s otherworldly conspirator, the one who’d set the trap for Quinn.

He slipped into shadow and warped to a spot ahead of them. Changing back into human shape, he stepped out of the darkness, right in front of Gwendolyn.

Her green eyes widened, and knives appeared in each of her hands as she jerked to a stop. Blood stained her black coat and streaked her face, the remnants of bleeding fingers. She bared pointy teeth in a feral smile. “Well, hello, Demon Master.”

Only Braden’s presence kept Zaire from killing her on the spot.

“Uncle Zaire!” The boy flew past Gwen, dropping his backpack along the way, and slammed into Zaire. He wrapped his arms around his waist and clung to him like a life preserver.

Zaire dropped to his knees and held Braden close, never taking his gaze from Gwendolyn. His nephew had lost every ounce of baby weight and then some, enough that Zaire could count each rib bone while holding him. He was grimy and smelled terrible…and was absolutely, gloriously alive. The ice in Zaire’s soul thawed at the edges.

“I knew you’d come for me.” Braden sniffled into his shirt, shaking. He suddenly pulled back, his dark eyes wide and urgent. “They got Quinn.”

The knot writhing inside him loosened halfway. Getting Braden back changed everything. He could focus on finding Quinn without fear of his nephew paying the price. Once his dreamcaster was back in his arms, Zaire could annihilate the Crows one by one. Destroying himself in the process had suddenly lost its appeal.

Zaire nodded and stood, keeping a protective hand on Braden’s shoulder as he stared death at Black’s sidekick. They got Quinn. He ignored the twisting in his stomach. “Was that part of the plan, fairy?”

“Don’t call me fairy.” Her voice was sharper than any blade.

“Don’t call me Demon Master.” He added a growl, tamer than usual, for Braden’s sake.

“Fine.” She pushed back her black beanie, revealing golden hair, and cocked a hip, defensive. “I planned to go back for your creampuff dreamcaster after her total claustrophobia meltdown. She made me promise to get the kid to safety first.” Her eyes narrowed. “Being compelled is so annoying.”

“Choose your words wisely. I know you intended to deliver my nephew to the V’alkara.” The shadows near him stirred, shimmering. “The only reason you’re still alive is because Braden doesn’t need to witness any more violence in his lifetime.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

Braden looked up at him. “Gwen’s cool, Uncle Z. She hates the Crows.”

“Smart kid.” She preened, curling one golden lock around her finger.

“The V’alkara aren’t much different than the Crows.” Zaire kept his gaze locked on Gwen. “They manipulate and use people for their own agendas. You’d be as much a prisoner with them as you were with the Crows.”

An obnoxious noise came from Gwen. “A year ago, yeah. That was true. Not now.” She flipped her knife, almost mocking, as though she knew his habits. “The new White hates chains and torture and is determined to set up a legit civilization where V’alkara can be free, and dreamcasters join by choice.”

Zaire slid his own dagger free and flipped it, twice as fast. “You’re Black’s creature. That alone makes you untrustworthy.”

Gwen’s knife show stopped. Her pupils lengthened to vertical slits. “I’m no one’s creature.” A high-pitched shriek entered her voice, a teakettle going off. “Everything I do is of my own volition. No one owns me. No one makes me do anything.” She dared to point her blade at him. “Believe what you want.”

A strange sheen surrounded her, like she was part of a dream in the daytime, and prickles of unease skittered down his back. He opened his senses to pinpoint her tune, and an electric jolt pierced his skull, momentarily blinding. He snapped his senses closed, cutting off the pain. She was something…else. Inhuman. Not of this world. And as tiny as she was, he didn’t want to cross her. Quinn had taught him—the hard way—that small did not necessarily mean weak.

Gwen adjusted her backpack. “You have your nephew back. You’re welcome.” She bared her pointy teeth. “As much as I like your girlfriend, if you don’t want my assistance, I’ll be on my way. You know, return to my master, the Black. Because I simply love being his lackey, doing his dirty work, helping out random dreamcasters I’ve never met before, rescuing imprisoned children—”

“You are exceedingly mouthy,” he interjected coolly.

Her smile was genuine this time. “Thank you, Demon Master.”

He set his jaw until he could speak without growling. “I appreciate that you aided Braden.”

She studied her fingernails. “I do perform the occasional good deed without a price.”

“And what is your price for helping me get Quinn back, fairy?”

Her gaze shot to his. “It would’ve been free if you hadn’t called me fairy again.”

“Retaliation.” He folded his arms. “For using Demon Master a second time. I loathe that name.”

“Didn’t you know paying back evil with evil never works?” She arched a golden eyebrow.

He unleashed his cruelest smile. “Never heard that.”

She suddenly giggled, a sound that made his skin crawl. “I think I might come to like you, so I’ll make my price small.”

Whatever requested, he’d pay it to get Quinn back. Picturing her with the Crows, what they could be doing to her, made his blood go cold. Since he couldn’t sense her, he was as helpless to find her as when Braden had been captured...and a dreamcaster wouldn’t fare as well as Braden had in Crow custody. As much as he hated it, he needed the fairy’s help.

“When this is all done, visit the new V’alkara community. See what they’re doing.” She watched him expectantly.

“That’s it?” He glared, suspicious.

She shrugged. “Once you get there, find me. We can work out a mutually acceptable arrangement.”

“Very well. Supposing you can aid me in finding Quinn.” He lifted his chin, meeting her glare. “I can’t sense her, as I couldn’t sense Braden while the Crows had him. What do you propose?” He resisted adding fairy. It was a challenge.

“Find her in the dream, bonehead.” Gwen snorted. “She might be a creampuff, but she’s smart. Once she realizes fighting and panicking isn’t helping, she’ll do what no one else can—shout out to Purgatory’s Missing Prince. She knows now that when you showed up in her dreams years ago, it was all her, pulling you in. Her adder stone won’t be a problem, not anymore. She’ll remember, trust me. And no matter what the Crows put around her body, you’ve been in her head. Nothing can keep you out once she summons you.”

Damnation. The fairy was correct. All he had to do was wait for Quinn to sleep.

Every minute until then would be agonizing.

He blew out a breath. “I believe you’re right.”

“And my work here is done. Give creampuff a kiss for me.” Gwen slipped by, headed up the trail. She stopped and pivoted, her gaze flicking to Braden. “Want me to take the kid along? There’s no safer place than with two V’alkara-dreamcaster matches.”

He hesitated. Only minutes ago, he would’ve never considered it, but he’d heard rumors of the new White’s compassion, discussed with contempt among the Crows. He’d seen Black with his dreamcaster, how she tempered his violence. He’d met Blue’s dreamcaster, Ella, and had helped her. Twice. If he could trust anyone there, it would be her.

Zaire ruffled Braden’s greasy hair and knelt to look him in the eyes. “Getting Quinn back will be dangerous, and I don’t want you near the Crows again.”

Tears shone in Braden’s eyes and his throat bobbed.

“I’ll come for you, you know that.”

Braden nodded and flung his arms around Zaire’s neck. It was enough to make his heart expand, breaking up the ice still caging it.

He met Gwen’s gaze and eased free of Braden’s hold. “Take him to Ella. Vow it.”

“So it shall be done.” Gwen rolled her eyes, but smiled at Braden, hiding her teeth. “Let’s go.” She waited until he caught up and then waggled her fingers in farewell. “See you on the other side, Demon Master.”

“You’ll pay for that, fairy.”

Her responding giggle did nothing to calm his unease. Now, to wait for Quinn to dream.