Page 85 of Feathers From the Sky

Within a breath, she’s in front of me, teeth bared, with two hands firmly planted on my chest. Then she shoves with all her strength. When I stumble back a step, she advances. Her eyes are alight, molten rage boiling the tears on her lash line. It’s better than the cold lifelessness I just saw. At least her hate will keep her warm. “These broken parts have sharp fucking edges, Roman.”

Grabbing her wrists before she can push me again, I tug them down to her sides. “You’re done Ascending, sweetheart. You’ve got your wires crossed if you thought this was anything more.”

Perfect lips curve up into a disbelieving smile as Gwyn huffs out a laugh. She seems as if she’s about to speak, but then shakes her head as she looks away from me. “No. What Ithoughtwas—”

“Stop talking,” I say when I hear a strange sound. Surprisingly, she listens. I loosen my grip but squeeze her wrists as I turn my ear to the cemetery entrance. Unable to see past the trees and the stone gate, I’m not sure what I heard. It’s possible I overreacted, and the sound had just been Nico and Margot getting into the car.

“What is it?” Gwyn whispers, but she’s promptly drowned out by a scream.

Margot.

Nico is shouting, and I’m running. Gwyn is right on my heels, keeping up despite the shoes she wears. But the familiar laugh I hear from ahead sends a chill down my fucking spine. I skid to a halt, stopping Gwyn with an outstretched arm.

“Go. Back to the lake, head south on the road. Run,” I direct her.

“What? No.” She makes to push past me, but I grab both her arms and spin her toward where we came from.

“It’s Emile.Go.” I give her a shove for good measure, and she stumbles a step before spinning around. Her eyes are wide, and I can hear her heart speed up. It’s fast, like it was before she turned, and I know she’s frightened. “He’ll fucking kill you, Gwyn. He must have found out about you. Now, go.”

“Where? The greystone? I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t give afuck, Gwyn. Go!” Keeping my voice down, I do my best to stress what needs to happen. It doesn’t matter where the hell she goes, as long as it’s not here. I’m about to pick her up and take her out of the cemetery when she finally takes a step in the right direction.

If I had to make that choice, living with it would have killed me. I can’t let Margot and Nico suffer the consequences of my decisions. I can’t let Gwyn get hurt either. No matter what bullshit I just spewed, I can’t let anything happen to her.

“Don’t go home, alright? They know.” When she hesitates, when she looks over her shoulder with those sad brown eyes and gathered brows, I allow myself a moment to just take her in. It’s possible she leaves, escapes, runs far away from this. Now she knows of witches and sorcerers, she could find someone to help her hide once more. Sending for Sasha, Gwyn knows enough now to escape and hide and thrive. Hidden from me forever.

This could be the last time I ever see her.

“I’ll find you,” I say when I decide that won’t work for me. “I promise. Now, go.”

Her eyes are still wet from when I’d been the world’s biggest asshole, and so it shouldn’t surprise me when a tear rolls down her cheek. It shouldn’t fucking devastate me. My lungs tighten, and I mouth at her once more to go. She doesn’t look back again as she runs away from me. Her hair whips out behind her, and the wind blows her scent to me. I breathe it in deep, wishing I could keep it with me forever.

When I hear Nico cry out in pain, it draws me out of my trance, and I don’t let myself linger any longer. Weaving between trees and headstones, I run as I strain to hear the voices outside the gate. There’s Emile, his lover, and at least two others. Slowing to a walk before I reach the gate, I take a moment to catch my breath and straighten my appearance. Hair has fallen loose from where I’ve pulled it back, so I take the elastic out completely and comb through the loosened strands with my fingers.

Finally, with a practiced nonchalance, I step over the gate. Nico is scuffling on the ground with one of Emile’s muscle. On her knees, Margot has a very sharp silver knife pressed against her throat. Emile’s paramour, Zada, has a firm grasp on my friend’s hair, keeping her neck exposed. My uncle’s black Escalade has blocked Margot’s sedan, and two of his more muscled bloodsworns flank either side of him. My uncle is of average build, and yet these two make him look small. I’ve known Ivar my entire life, the hulking blond Viking on his right who has never cared to learn any English, but the man on his left is new. Neither of them are people I want to deal with if I can help it. Emile’s hands are in the pockets of his black peacoat as he leans against his SUV. His grey hair is perfectly styled and the light blue scarf around his neck matches Gwyn’s dress.

“Tonton, que se passe-t-il ici?” I ask as I put my hands into my own pockets. I don’t trust myself not to clench my fists.

“À vous de me le dire, Roman.” Icy cold, he attempts to make me feel like a child again with his stare. In his long life, that’s what I must seem to him. But, though child I may be, Emile is now my equal. His intimidation doesn’t work. Leaning against the stone gate, one leg crossed in front of the other, I watch Nico get overpowered as he’s pinned face down on the ground with his arm twisted behind him at a painful angle. Sucking on my teeth, I sneer at Emile.

“Ah bah oui, Emile. It looks like you have assaulted my friends, and I’m at a loss as to why.”

“Where is she?”

“The hunter? She’s locked away at the greystone, I suppose.”

“Putain, Roman! Sale gosse.Do not speak to me as if—” He inhales deeply, tight-lipped. Emile walks toward me, picking his way carefully between Margot and Nico’s outstretched feet. Margot is sobbing loudly, and he glares over at her. He’s brought his hands out of his pockets, and he doesn’t bother hiding his fists like I have. “Did you not think you would beseen? Did you not think you’d benoticed? Last Drop is not some secret little lair, you fool.”

“You told me to fuck her and get it out of my system, did you not? Why does it matter if I did it in the company of friends over drinks?” Margot had assured me it was safe. She made sure money exchanged the right hands, so I don’t know what the fuck happened.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m trying to handle this before your father returns. Do you not understand? If this were about the coven, I would rejoice. You’ve effectively handed it over to me.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes with unquestionable sincerity. “Roman, I care about you as my own. You are my blood. Bjorn is already on a flight back.When he finds out what you’ve done, he will end you.”

Margot whimpers behind him, and I’m surprised when he whips around, the tail of his peacoat hitting me as he moves toward her. “Why do you fight and scream so,petit Talleyrand?” He tilts his head, bending over to look her in the eyes. “Does that make me Alexander?”

I sigh in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

“If she is Talleyrand, and I am Alexander, who does that make you, Roman?” I stare at him blankly, at a loss for words. “Think! I am the tsar. Who. Are. You?”

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