Page 132 of Wings of Lies
“Oliver! What is with you and dropping me?” I yelled, swatting away the branches trying to rip out my hair.
“Sorry, jailbird,” he panted, laying stomach first on a bed of pink leaves. “Olivmobile is out of commission. It’s time to use those scrawny legs of yours. It’s just by those trees.” He pointed without looking.
“Get up. Someone promised me bread and stew,” I said, walking over to his sprawled body, holding out my hand to him.
He smiled like an idiot as he looked at it. “Does this mean you forgive me?”
“No. But I want food. For that, I need you.”
His goofy smile widened as he latched on. “I’ll take that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on.”
We shuffled—okay, I shuffled while Oliver strode—until we arrived at an edge of thinning pink trees and a view of the village—a very unmodern village, with thatched roofing and wood siding. Some, very few, were made from plain stone.
Oliver noticed the look on my face and chuckled. “It’s not Earth, Lucy.”
“Well aware. What are they doing?” I asked. Figures moved about, but from this distance, I couldn’t tell why.
Oliver grinned as he rubbed his hands together. “It’s their daily market, with lots of food.”
Thank heavenly.
He stepped into the clearing. I hesitated. I’d be completely exposed the moment I stepped away from the forest. They’d see us coming. They’d see me.
“I promise, I got your back. Any trouble and we’re…” Oliver turned back to me, words trailing off as he gazed at something over my head. “Fuck-a-duck.”
I turned, gaze landing on a piece of paper at my back, and almost sank to the ground. We should’ve never stepped over that border. Crushing pressure gripped my chest at finding my face on a piece of paper with the words WANTED ALIVE at the top and an outrageous sum of money on the bottom. But before I had another panic attack at the fact that someone named Michael put a bounty on my head, something flashed through the clearing.
There wasn’t enough time to warn Oliver as the red blur luscelered toward him at top speed. I shoved him out of the way as the figure, meant for Oliver, slammed me into a tree.
I cried out, feeling a snap in my ribs. A scrawny redhead with dark skin grabbed my neck and held me against the tree with one arm. I latched onto his wrist, summoning my Infernus.
“Michael wondered if you’d be stupid enough to enter Elora and come to Etherea. I guess it’s a good thing he had me stationed here,” he said, unfazed by the ice spreading across his skin as he reached to his belt and took out a feather. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your parlor tricks with a Binding Rune.” Then he slammed my head back into the trunk.
Chapter
Thirty
Istood at the edge of an endless, shadowed space, and at its center, a purple-white ball of light twisted and turned, flickering with images. Intrigued, I stepped closer. Dread, pain, and betrayal enveloped me in a vile caress. Swallowing, I took a giant step back.
“Touch it.”
I jerked to my right. A cloaked figure stood there.
“Touch the ball,” she said again, her voice familiar.
“I know you,” I said. “You’re the voice who told me about Oliver and Magda.”
She circled behind me, no longer just a voice. Her red and black cloak flowed around her combat boots, illuminated by the flashing ball. “And did you find them?”
“Oliver, but not Magda, yet. Did you know what would happen to me when I came to Elora?” I demanded.
She snorted. “You don’t want to know what I know. But it’s time you learned the truth.”
“Truth of what?”
“Your mom.”
