My answer came a few seconds later.
At their leader’s beckoning, more wererats crawled into the light like nightmares, walking on their hands and the soles of their feet. Some of them had tails, long and lined with hair, which snapped in the air or curled around their bent bodies. There was no disparity between the amount of males and females, and several of them draped over the Rat King as if they had no bones. Still more plastered themselves against his legs. Every face turned toward us, all those eyes round and shining black or red.
The entire image looked like something out of a bizarre, dark painting.
From what I remembered, rats were not a mate-for-life kind of mammal. Wererats seemed to be no different, despite their divine ancestry.
“How can we help you, friend?” Laurie asked at last. His tone was pleasant and he’d lowered his sword, looking completely at ease, as if he often encountered creatures like this while wading through waste-filled tunnels.
“I am Luther,” the enormous male answered in English, his accent thick, “and you are in my domain now.”
Laurie wasn’t fazed by the threat in those words. He inclined his head in an effortless courtly movement. “We apologize for the intrusion. I hadn’t been aware this… dominion was claimed. We’ll just be on our way, then.”
All at once, the wererat lost interest in us, or maybe he’d just finished his evaluation. He made a dismissive gesture as he turned away, saying over his meaty shoulder, “You may leave. The female stays.”
I frowned blankly before I realized who he was talking about. Rage smoldered in my stomach like hot coals.
“The female,” I said flatly, making Luther turn back, “doesn’t follow your orders. I’m going with my friends, and if you try to stop me, I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful.”
As I spoke, I flexed my arms again, drawing the wererat’s attention back to the sword I held. He went still, and something about his silence emanated surprise. He stared at my face, and I stared back defiantly, my chin half-raised in the air. After another moment, Luther began to laugh. It was a deep sound, forming in the pit of his enormous stomach. His subjects tittered, as well, filling the cold air with echoes of their eerie giggling and cackles. Gil’s expression was murderous, and I gritted my teeth to hold back a snarl of my own.
Then Luther raised his hand, and the sound immediately ceased. He scowled at me now, his moods as mercurial as the wind. “I am the Rat King. I do not argue with prisoners,” he declared.
“Yeah, well, I don’t argue with—” I didn’t see the self-professed king make any sort of signal, so I wasn’t ready when something moved behind us. Laurie made a sound I’d never heard come from his throat. I spun toward him, terrified of what I’d see. Our eyes met for an instant, just long enough for me to see the startled light within those silver depths. Then Laurie looked down, and it felt like time slowed as I followed his gaze.
A blade protruded from his stomach. It looked like the tip of a dagger or a knife. I knew I was in shock, because the specifics of the weapon weren’t relevant. It’s okay, I reminded myself. He can heal from that. He can survive that.
As if Laurie could hear the thought, his starry eyes fixed on mine again. Before I could move or speak, nine more blades were shoved into him from behind.
Frozen in horror, I watched as one of them went through his heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Everything that happened next occurred over four seconds. Seconds that my dim, shocked mind tracked with the amount of breaths I took.
During the first beat, the first breath, I felt something fall from my limp fingers. The sword, I thought.
Second breath. I heard the sword hit the ground with a clattering sound, but I didn’t try to retrieve it—all my focus was riveted on Laurie. My lips had parted as if I were about to speak, but nothing came out.
Third breath. Before I could move or make a sound, all those knives in Laurie’s body were yanked out. His entire body jerked and blood spurted from the fresh wounds, staining the concrete at our feet. That was when Laurie’s fingers must’ve gone limp, because his beautiful sword joined mine on the ground. A line of blue streamed from the corner of the faerie’s sensual mouth, and he stared at me with his eyebrows raised in an expression of faint surprise. I stared back, still frozen, feeling like I’d been stabbed alongside him.
The breath after that, Laurie was on his knees, water splashing around him as he landed. Peeks finally took action, darting to catch Laurie around his waist. Gil crouched beside me and lifted his fingers as if there were claws at the end of them, all of his focus on the Rat King.
When the others moved, it felt like time started moving at a normal pace again. I blinked, the haze around my thoughts clearing, and then I took in the picture that Laurie and Peeks made. In any other situation, the height discrepancy between them might’ve been comical. As it was, I could see that Peeks was using every bit of fae strength in his possession to keep Laurie upright. He needed help. Why couldn’t I budge? Why couldn’t I go to him?
Collith. This was too much like what I’d felt the night I lost Collith.
Sensing Peeks’s dilemma, somehow, Laurie tried to straighten. He immediately swayed, though, forcing Peeks to readjust his hold. I started to shout for a healer at the same instant Laurie managed to lift his head. The words stuck in my throat. We stared at each other again, and his beautiful eyes had an empty sheen that I’d glimpsed in others’ gazes before him. Fred’s. Collith’s.
It was a look of death.
When I saw that, I felt a familiar sensation inside my body, somewhere deep, probably where my heart and soul met. Like a fissure running through the earth or a cresting wave that was the size of a small city. Gil said my name, his voice a distant sound.
Power exploded from my being.
I threw my arms out, following an instinct that surged so strongly it was as if it came from every Nightmare that had lived before me. The wererats were as helpless as children against my fury. I claimed their phobias without any resistance or challenges, and I was almost disappointed. Almost. The addiction had already rushed back, though, the heady thrill that had sent me to Cyrus in the first place. I felt omniscient. Limitless. Like a god. If I were thinking normally, I might have been worried, especially considering I was only using their smallest fears against them. The biggest ones, the threads woven through the fabric of their souls, those I left alone.
My eyes tingled, and I glanced down as I strode deeper into the tunnel. The water was so dim that I could only make out the shape of my face and see the bright, bright red of my irises, glowing as if my insides were made of fire instead of flesh. The wererats’ terror was all around my body, filling it, rushing through it like a river of horrors. The rush was so potent that I nearly closed my eyes to enjoy it. I kept them open, though, so I could watch my—what had Gil called them?
Morsels. That was it. I wanted to watch the morsels suffer. I wouldn’t kill them, no, I would spare them so they could spread my message. The message that this was what happened when someone I cared about was harmed.
The only one I left untouched was the Rat King.
Remembering myself, I walked back the way I’d come and returned to my companions. If either of them found the change in me strange or frightening, neither male showed it. Luther, however, clearly hadn’t put together that I was causing the pandemonium; his shrewd gaze darted around, evaluating Peeks, assessing Gil. The rest of the wererats moaned and shrieked, still reacting to my presence in their skulls. Some cowered and trembled. Others were already trying to run or fight from the things I made them see. Animals, places, people. A brave few, the strong-minded, were trying to get to me in spite of their visions.