Page 63 of Flame and Fury

Grima’s scream tears out of him at the same time the thunder booms in the sky. He writhes on the ground, scraping at his face, pulling at his hair like that will get the images out of his head.

I leave him there, to go mad from his own misdeeds.

Lark and Estella are standing over the other two clerics, both gaping at me. I walk over to the felled men, squat down, and touch their cheeks. They’ll suffer from the same torment.

I look up at Lark and Estella, who haven’t moved a muscle. “Surprise. We need to go.”

I force my wings away, nearly sobbing. That was way too short. Running toward a path cut through the woods, I sigh with relief when Lark and Estella follow. With so much misinformation about Furies, it’s impossible to know what someone might think. It’s not like I’ve had the chance to reveal my secret to many people in my life.

“What did you do to them?” Lark calls out as she catches up.

“They’re reliving every horrible deed they’ve ever done. Only this time they’re on the receiving end.”

Lark widens her eyes. “Well, shit. That’s fair.”

“You’re a Fury.” Estella practically shouts. Lark hushes her, even though we’ve already failed pretty hard at flying under the radar.

We don’t have time for this conversation, but I need to know if this is going to be an issue. I stop and turn, facing Estella. Her once billowy jumpsuit is suctioned to her with the rain. Her makeup is running and her eyes are wide.

“I am. Is that going to be a problem?”

Estella gapes. “I think, for the first time in my entire life, I have hope that something could change.” With that monumental declaration, I give her a nod, not sure how else to react, and take off running.

Nathaniel’s property is obscene. To have this much acreage in the middle of Chicago is just wrong. This isn’t like the Olympus House, where the home and the surrounding property move at Zeus’s will. This is a forest created years ago by tearing down other buildings and homes, all so Nathaniel could have a pretty private park in the middle of Chicago.

The rain hasn’t let up. I swipe at my face, pushing my hair back and flinging water away from my eyes. There are manicured walkways that cut through the woods, with tiny solar lights that let off enough of a glow for us to follow. The path is dotted with half-finished statues; marble masterpieces that have been abandoned.

The trail splits and I nearly run into a sculpture of a blindfolded woman missing her feet. The hair on the back of my neck rises, like someone just whispered a terrible secret in my ear, but I can’t hear what they said. I run faster, needing to get away from this place.

We stay off the pathway, but close enough to the lights so we don’t lose our way. Shouts echo in the distance. It’s raining so hard I’m surprised I can hear anything else. Either someone found Grima, or they’ve figured out we’re gone. Whatever the reason, I’m not going to stick around to find out.

My heart hammers in my chest, but my Fury is practically singing. Taking down Grima and the other thugs righted a wrong. Tipped the scales one tiny fraction toward the side of good.

A branch snaps and I stop, throwing up my arms to halt Lark and Estella. The noise came from in front of us. People are still yelling behind us and it’s getting closer. We’re penned in.

The drag of a foot over the ground reaches my ears. Mother fucker. How did they get in front of us? My wings itch to be released again, but it’s too tight between the trees. They would be more of a hazard than a help. I hold up a hand, letting Lark and Estella know they should stay put. I take two steps when a broad shadow steps into my path. My hand is around their throat before they even see me.

I shove them against a tree, jolting a grunt from their chest. A sound that is hauntingly familiar. Letting my other senses engage, I take in the scent of rain-soaked leather and musk and my heart trips all over my chest.

“Atlas?” I will not be embarrassed by the breathy pitch of my voice.

“Fucking hell, little bird.” Atlas’s hand wraps around my wrist, but he doesn’t pull my fingers from his throat. His thumb brushes over my pulse and I melt into him like we’re at a high school dance and aren’t trying to escape from Nathaniel Roger’s house.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss out, even though I want to wrap my arms around him and hug him until I finally get my fill. Which will probably be never.

I release my grip on his throat, and maybe, accidentally, let my hand trail down his chest. He reluctantly lets go of my wrist, and I immediately miss the contact.

“Rescuing you. Which apparently wasn’t necessary.”

“We were going to come rescue you.” I bite back.

“Guys, can we discuss this later?” Lark says in a low plea. “After we get out of here?”

Atlas and I both nod, stepping away from each other.

“This way,” Atlas commands, and we all fall into a run. There’s a short whistle that sounds like a bird and I nearly stumble when Atlas repeats the sound. Nico comes bounding out of the woods, so silent on his huge feet that I gape at him. How did the two of them end up together? How did they know we were here? How did they get here?

Those are questions for later.

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