Tears fell down Layla’s cheeks as the old man’s fingers unfurrowed. She’d seen dead bodies before. She’d been the one to find her father’s body after he’d taken his own life. But somehow this was different. She lifted her arm. She’d never been able to summon a fireball before. Flamecasting was the weaker of her two abilities, but she didn’t care about the repercussions. All she knew was that this man had killed an innocent. And he was threatening to injure more.
A stream of fire erupted from her palm. It sizzled as it barreled through the air. Tendrils of uncontrolled flame licked outward from it. Her arm shook as she tried to maintain control of the blast. Sweat dripped down her brow, stinging her eyes.
Her flame extinguished as it collided with an electronic shield the man activated. Her shoulders sagged and her limbs felt as if she had been lifting in the gym. They vibrated as she took a step back, threatening to collapse beneath her.
The man advanced on her; his gun aimed directly at her.
“Try that again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” he said.
“You have to get out of here. Now!” Penny pled.
“I know!” Layla silently snapped.
She took another step back, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. If she was going to die, she wanted it to be on her own terms. Opening her eyes she willed herself to demonstrate more courage than she felt.
“If you wanted me dead,” she said, “you would’ve already pulled the trigger.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. It was all Layla needed to confirm her suspicions.
“King Renard doesn’t want the lost fae princess to die, does he? No, he wants her to live so that he can what, use her in a political game to quell the fae into submission?”
Anger coursed through her as she spoke.
“Well I have news for you. I’m not the lost princess. Can’t be. I know who my parents are.”
“Your test came back positive,” the man said. The hand not pointing a gun at her face hovered over his belt.
“I don’t even know what that means,” she replied with a shrug. She shuffled backwards, inching her way towards the bar.
He shook his head, his voice coming out in an exasperated tone. “It means, you stupid little winger, that your magic matches the fae royal line.”
“Nope. Don’t believe you,” she stammered. She took another step back. Just a little bit further and she would be able to duck behind the bar. She just needed to keep him talking.
He gripped something in his belt. Lowering his gun at the same time he raised his other hand, he shot an electrocurrent blast at her.
She flung herself behind the bar. Her body scraped against the hard wood, skinning her hands and chin. She groaned at the momentary sting. Her skin glowed gold as her healing ability began mending the wounds. Shockwaves surged through her body as the blast exploded against the side of the bar. She screamed as its current coursed through her. Panting, she flung back the trapdoor to the liquor cellar and dropped into its darkness.
Her feet squished in mud as she pulled the door shut behind her. The top of her head grazed the ceiling as she stood up straight. She slammed the latch into place and used her flamecasting ability to melt the metal. Screams and gunshots echoed from above. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the trapdoor. She hoped he followed her and left everyone else alone. One death was already too many.
Breathing heavily, she paced across the cellar floor. Davi, the owner of The Wand, had told her once that there was a secret tunnel that led from the bar to an undisclosed outdoor location. If she could just find it, there was a chance she could escape.
Pressing her hands against the wall, she began feeling around for any sign of the door. Each board felt flush with the others and didn’t bend or rattle as she shoved against them. She pounded her fists against the walls. Nothing budged. Cursing, she slumped to the ground.
“My great-great-grandfather built a secret tunnel down.” Davi’s voice echoed in the back of her mind as she replayed the conversation she’d had with him. He’d been showing her where to find the bottles of the most expensive alcohol when he’d suddenly began talking about always needing an escape plan.
“The fae have been coming to this establishment for over three hundred years. It’s been in my family since the beginning. My great-great-grandfather built a secret tunnel down here to ensure that no matter what else was happening, his family would always be safe. Of course, this place is my home. Always has been. And, as my father always told me, the greatest comforts come from home. That’s how you’ll find safety.”
Her shoulders sagged as the memory faded. Shaking her head, she peered around the room, searching for anything she thought would open the secret passageway. Barrels of beer and wine lined the perimeter of the floor. The golden key to the city hung mounted on the wall. Old costumes, glittering with sequins were stacked in clear containers. An old jukebox with a busted front hid in the shadows. Family heirlooms and trinkets were cluttered on a shelf close to the staircase. Layla narrowed her eyes at the golden key.
“Yes!” she yelled as she raced towards it. She stumbled, her muscles still weak from using her flamecasting ability and being shocked by the electrocurrent blast. She tugged on the key. It didn’t budge. She tried again, but it still didn’t move. Cocking an eyebrow at it, Layla pounded her fist against the wall. She’d been so sure this was the answer.
“You have to think, Layla,” Penny said. “Please! We can’t stay here!”
Through her tears of frustration, Layla tugged one more time. Dust fluttered up into the air, glittering as it caught the light. Sighing, she twirled around and looked for another option. A row of levers was attached to the wall. She’d seen her boss use them on multiple occasions to fill smaller casks of beer and wine to sell.
Trusting her instincts, Layla began yanking on each one. Each time she moved one of the levers, a gurgling sound followed. Her hands became more and more shaky as she moved down the line until she got closer to the end. She pulled the last of the levers and nothing happened.
Exasperated, she sank to her knees. Pounding echoed from above and she knew the king’s man was trying to break through the door. Her eyes fell on the shelf of family trinkets. What was it he had said? ‘The greatest comforts come from home?’
Scrambling to her feet, she rushed to the shelf and began examining each of the items. A chipped coffee mug was nestled at the back of the shelf. ‘Home is Where the Coffee Is’ was emblazoned on its white ceramic.
“It couldn’t be,” she whispered to Penny as she reached back and lifted the cup. There was a low rumble from behind her. Frigid air blasted against her back. She whirled around to find the secret tunnel open behind her.
Chapter Three
“Yes!” Layla shouted, pumping her fist into the air.
She dashed through the opening to the tunnel. The door slid shut behind her. She felt around the walls until she found the light switch. Hazy yellow light blossomed to life in old-fashioned bulbs. They looked like flickering torches as she ran down the hall. The passageway was surprisingly clean. She’d been expecting cobwebs and spiders or, at the very least, sewage instead of white tile and spotless walls.