That was how it worked in the movies. Frak it all, couldn’t reality get it right just this once?
Unsure what I expected to see when I glanced back, I goggled at the stone gateway that had spat us out onto the staircase. Runes were carved into its frame, and mist curled from its center to pool at our feet.
The archive was far more gothic chic on this side.
The scent of fresh meat must have called forth the curious, each the vestige of a strange and unfamiliar creature. They drifted beside us, not quite touching, as they glared with hate-filled eyes at the intruders.
“They can’t hurt us.” Remy laughed with near-panicked gaiety. “They can’t touch us.”
I was thinking the same thing, but I was afraid to say it out loud and jinx us both.
Obviously, she didn’t share my superstitions.
“Don’t be too sure,” I cautioned her. “It’s pointless to attack us when we don’t have room for them.”
A shudder rippled the length of her arm and trembled in our joined hands as my words struck home.
In perfect unison, the petulant souls swiveled their heads to stare behind us with renewed interest.
I tensed, ready to sprint for it and drag Remy along with me, but it wasn’t the coven in hot pursuit.
Fur stained with blood, a blond gwyllgi stepped into the archive with us.
The spirits shrieked over him, whipping themselves into a frenzy, biting and clawing to get to him first.
“Midas,” I breathed. “What have you done?”
I lunged at him, but the spirits got there first.
They swarmed before I could reach him.
Eleven
Midas was lost within a howling whirl of spirits, devoured as they delighted in the feast given to them. I screamed for them to leave him alone, I punched through them, busting my knuckles on the stairs, but they clung like burrs in his fur.
As rage-filled tears poured down my cheeks, the spirits exploded outward, flung in every direction.
With a deep chuff, Midas shook out his fur to rid himself of any stragglers, then grinned at me, tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.
I sank to my knees before him, threaded my fingers through his ruff, and sobbed against his throat.
“You idiot. You big, hairy idiot.” I clung to him. “What are you doing here?”
Crimson magic washed over him and left me with my arms circling Midas’s neck.
“Idiot.” I pulled back and wiped my snotty face on my shirttail. “I just…” I balled my fists. “You idiot.”
“You can kick my shins once we’re somewhere safe.” He lifted me and set me on my feet. “Promise.”
During the free-for-all, I had let go of Remy, and she backed down the steps to give us space.
Or to get out of the splatter zone in case I decided to murder him for letting me think he was dying.
“We good?” She craned to see around me when she deemed it safe. “Midas okay?”
“He appears to be.” A knot formed in my chest. “Help me keep an eye on him?”
“Yeah.” A shrug rolled through her thin shoulders. “Sure thing.”
Linking my fingers with Midas’s, I tethered him where I could feel him and let her guide us down the stairs. I threw glances over my shoulder, but I couldn’t decide if I was more terrified that whatever protection he was using to hold the spirits at bay might fail or that he wasn’t Midas at all, but a coven spy hidden by a charm.
Seriously, Paranoia and I ought to invest in BFF jewelry at this point.
“I’m me.” He read my concerns with ease. “I’ll prove it when we’re not fleeing for our lives.”
“That’s exactly what a coven spy would say.”
With their newfangled glamour charms, I couldn’t count on my sight to reveal his true face.
A spasm twitched in my chest, and he grimaced at the same time, as if he felt it too.
“Is this normal?” He rubbed the spot. “I feel like I’m about to burst.”
The sensation was my exact experience, but I remained wary. I couldn’t afford for my heart to get in the way of common sense. Until he could prove he was or wasn’t Midas, I had to treat him like a threat. Even if I couldn’t bring myself to quite let go of him. Just in case.
The unsettling presence of Ambrose, crammed into my sternum, made me wish for Tums. The energy he consumed from the guardians overflowed into me, leaving me with an acute case of magical heartburn. How an intangible presence gave me acid reflux boggled the mind, but there you go.
As my mind wandered that ridiculous path to distract from my fears, I stumbled across another worry.
On Bishop’s wintry road, Ambrose had been able to manifest into a physical creature. Did that mean he could do so here? Was it within his power to remain intangible? Or would he gain weight the longer he was exposed to this new gravity, for lack of a better descriptor?
Basically, did I have to worry about an alien bursting out of my chest?
As we made our way down, we passed level after level of stone tombs, each belonging to an individual, if the unique runes carved over the ornate doorways meant what I thought they meant. They struck me as labels, which made sense when you considered this place might as well be a closet or department store for witchborn fae.
The spirits from earlier, sated on the blood and gore they’d hoovered from Midas’s fur, didn’t bother us again. However, word traveled fast among the creatures. Dozens more escorted us in our downward spiral, which sounded a bit too on the nose in retrospect. They didn’t bother Remy or me, but they buzzed around Midas like thirsty bees. Thirsty murder bees.
“Does this staircase ever end?” I kept my voice whisper light. “Are we sure we ought to follow it down?”
Leaning over the edge gave me heart palpitations. The stairs curved on forever, and the darkness writhed with spirits.
“There’s nothing else worth stopping for,” Remy answered. “We have to find where it begins.”
The beginning meant Faerie, the last place I wanted to drag Midas, but it would also be the end too.
“Scents are muted in here,” Midas added, “but this stairway is pungent. We’re on the right track.”
With all the foot traffic it had gotten in the last few days, I wasn’t surprised it was stained with foulness.
“Good to know.” I rolled my shoulders to resettle my supply pack. “We should—”
Voices carried up to us from below. Far below. Yet not far or below enough for my comfort.
Melodious and soothing, they chanted an oddly peaceful rhyme that lulled the spirits around us into a stupor. They drifted off, in ones and twos, each to their own tomb, like fussy babies sung to sleep by their mothers.
The steady march of feet told me this was the next batch of twelve, and that many coven members on a collision course with us meant we had to play chicken to survive.
Motioning for everyone to pause, I consulted with Ambrose. “Can we muffle our steps?”
The coven’s unguarded movements illustrated how well sound carried in this place. It also warned me if we could hear them, then they could hear us. We had to fix that, and quick, or we would announce ourselves to this batch and every other envoy we intercepted along the way.
A thoughtful hum tickled the back of my mind, and I dismissed it before surprise registered on my face.