Nothing jumped out, though. Nothing moved or even flickered. My wolf didn’t smell anything, either.
Continuing on, wondering if I would have a heart attack before we hit the surface, I finished what I was saying.
“We’ve compared notes and found they matched. We know the way. And this is the only way we can make it out.”
I didn’t know if any of that comforted him, but at least it shut him up. We couldn’t afford dissenters right now. What we were doing was perilous enough.
Our footfalls were too loud for my taste as we made our way, but nothing jumped out at us. Nothing stabbed into us from behind. It was the calm before Doom.
We went around another turn, down a corridor I didn’t actually remember because I’d been too freaked out by the bridge crossing, and the orange glow finally reached through the doorway up ahead. It seemed to throb, beckoning us closer. Laughing at us, maybe.
“I hated coming across this,” Leala said quietly, tucking her whip into the back of her pants. She was readying for an internal battle.
She hadn’t needed as much violence to get across as I had, but she’d also been dragged a bit. Shoved a bit. Carried a bit.
Fucking bridge.
Tension rose as we shoved in and pushed to the side, leaving room for Finley at the front, standing beside the rope bridge that moved at the slightest misstep and tore at your eyes and sanity.
I squeezed Leala’s hand. “If I don’t go down in history as the best fucking butler who ever lived, going above and beyond the job, I’m going to slap a bitch.”
She squeezed it back. “You can slap me. Multiple times. Anywhere you want.”
“You always have to ruin things.”
She laughed, and it made me realize how much I’d needed that sound.
In a moment, all humor would be sucked out of us, along with the will to live.
TWENTY-TWO
FINLEY
Urgency rode me as I faced off with the bridge. This would be the hardest part of our escape, but if we made it across, we’d be home safe. I felt it.
“Calia, can you help with this?” I asked, standing beside the suspension bridge secured with rope. The lava below moved and shifted. Dizzying heat rose from the toxic stew.
“Only for my sister and myself. The magic is too immense. It’s built into the foundation.”
“Can you carry someone across who might be kicking and screaming?”
She eyed me dubiously. Probably not, then.
“Fine. Head across if you’d like.”
She nodded and grabbed her sister’s hand, stepping onto the bridge.
Let the animals cross the bridge, my dragon thought, desperate to break free and take over. She hovered right near the surface, giving me more strength and determination. Animals don’t think about throwing themselves to their deaths. That’s a human thing. It’s a brain malfunction. Animals rely on their survival instinct. They’ll know not to veer to the sides.
It was worth a shot, I supposed. Though I would absolutely blame it on her in the event it went tits up.
“My dragon thinks the animals will have a better shot of making the crossing,” I announced to the group at large, gripping the end of the rope to keep from shouting for everyone to just run across so we could get this moving. I still worried Dolion might send for me. We needed to be long gone before that happened.
“What about those of us who can’t change?” someone asked from the back.
“Or those of us who aren’t shifters?” The male faerie’s eyes were tight with worry.
“I can carry people across,” Hannon said, Jedrek still unconscious (or playing dead) across his shoulder. “This bridge doesn’t affect me.”
Micah turned to look at him with a hard stare.
“What are you?” Lucille asked, narrowing her eyes.
Hannon shrugged. “Maybe I’m a demon, I don’t know, but I can run people back and forth.”
“Big stone balls on that guy,” Vemar murmured with a grin. “I like that. Could be a demon, doesn’t give a shit.”
“I completely missed that he wasn’t affected the first time we crossed it,” Hadriel muttered.
“He’s not a demon,” I said, exasperated though curious as to what sort of animal didn’t succumb to the Bridge of Doom.
Tamara looked skyward. “There should be enough room to…sorta fly-hop over. My dragon is confident she can handle this.”
“Mine too,” said Micah, immediately echoed by the other dragons who were capable of shifting.
Weston gave a soft yelp and moved closer to the bridge.
“He’ll cross now,” Hadriel said. “In case you can’t read wolf. He has a connection with the other wolves. If he can keep his head, they will too. He’s confident he can handle it. But then, you all are, so…”
In other words, there was ego, bravado, and reality. We had yet to see how reality would shake out, but Hannon couldn’t run everyone back and forth. We had to trust the animals to make this journey.
“Okay. Go,” I barked, pulling power from my dragon, who in turn pulled it from Nyfain.
The dragons shed their clothes and handed them off to anyone willing to hold them. I thought it better not to mention that the clothes would probably end up fluttering into the lava.
As the wolves crossed, hair standing up on their backs and teeth bared, Tamara jogged as far to the side of the gathering as she could. She looked up at the rock ceiling curving upward into a dome. A push of magic slammed into my dragon, and she roiled, scratching to rise to the surface.
“No, no, you fucking idiot.” I clenched my teeth and bore down on her, struggling to keep her at bay. “We can’t change here for the first time. We’ll crush everyone, stumble, take out the bridge as we fall into the lava, and all will be lost. Get down.”
Tamara’s gray dragon rose into existence, smaller than Nyfain and able to hunch down a little so she didn’t hit the ceiling. The dragon looked down at the lava before scooting back toward us, giving her more wing room. In a breathless moment, she jumped out over the lava and only then pumped her wings quickly, blasting us with air.
The wolves made their way across the bridge, the wind from Tamara’s wings washing over them. One in the back hunched and turned, gnashing teeth at the air. It shivered, then shook, lowering its head and starting to whine.
Tamara rose a bit, but there wasn’t much room. Tilting her wings slightly, she shoved forward, aiming for the larger landing on the other side.
Weston, nearly to safety, ears flat against his head, turned back and let out a savage growl.
“He’s losing one of them,” Hadriel whispered, pushing forward so he could see.
The wolf at the end, still shaking, tucked its tail between its legs. It crowded the side of the bridge, chewing at a strand of rope blocking its way.
Weston’s growl intensified. The wolves behind him cowered, quickly flattening down to their bellies, but the last wolf edged farther toward the side, its body now against the ropes. It looked like it was fighting itself. Or maybe fighting Weston.
Lucille walked to the area Tamara had just vacated but didn’t shift, watching the frightened wolf.
Weston left his post and jogged down the side of the line of wolves, perilously close to the side. He reached the one at the end and cuffed it on the head hard enough to draw blood, his growl rumbling through his chest. It vibrated through my body, and I wasn’t even attuned to his animal. He grabbed the scruff of the last wolf’s neck and pulled, urging it to walk.