Page 106 of What Fools These Immortals Be
I’ll give up all of the Hunt’s secrets, just so long as Njáll gets out of here alive.
Njáll doesn’t even stir when the door to the cellar opens again hours later, and that, more than anything, has fear skittering down my spine.
I have never been outnumbered like this. Even when I was turned, I do not believe there was such a sense of unavoidable dread. Perhaps I thought I could get away, back then.
I cannot now. But I cannot lose all sense of hope, either. If I give up, then we all die.
So I get unsteadily to my feet, and with a few cautious steps forward, I am standing between the foot of the stairs and Njáll.
When it is not a fae who descends, only Augustine, some of that dread recedes. He does not have the look of a vampire who has ingested fae blood, and so I am sure that, even bound as I am, I can kill him should I need to.
He scoffs when he sees me standing, casting a look at the fae, who shy back from him the same way they have done with everyone down here so far. When his gaze moves past me, taking in Njáll, I growl.
“Wake him,” Augustine says.
“You think I’m taking orders fromyou?”
His face goes ruddy—with anger or humiliation, I do not know. He is easy to provoke, and that has me wondering why Meilyr would keep him so close at all.
A vampire is the easiest way into the clan, I suppose, what with how they’ve closed ranks this year. Still. Meilyr does not need the help. He already has their crai, and he didn’t need Augustine for that at all.
“What do you want, Augustine?” Njáll says from behind me. His voice is rough from sleep, but I can’t hear any pain in it. He’s hiding it well.
“I thought you might like to know what is happening out there,” Augustine says. He is still standing at the foot of the stairs, and he does not take a step closer. Instead, he leans back against the banister as though he is entirely at ease.
Njáll gets unsteadily to his feet, and I step aside so he can stand next to me. Augustine’s muscles tense when I move and I grin at him, showing my fangs. He can pretend all he likes. We both know who’s in danger here.
“What have you done?” Njáll asks. His face is still ashen, arm held tightly against his body, but his eyes are bright and not with fever.
With anger.
“The alpha gave in,” Augustine crows. “I will fight the little wolf later tonight.”
“You’ll kill him,” Njáll says.
“And why should I not? As though his life is worth half as much as—” He snarls, cutting himself off, and does push off from the banister now, though he comes to a quick stop when I take my own lurching step forward. “He isnothing. Besides, from what you all have said over and over again, I will be doing him a favour, putting him out of his misery this way.”
A sound builds deep inside my chest, but I swallow it down when Njáll speaks again.
“You didn’t listen to me at all. A young wolf is not to be trifled with, especially one from that pack. There is a good chance you will not survive this, Augustine. He might kill you, and if he does not, and you go through with this, then I can guarantee you that his alpha will.”
Augustine shakes his head. “I neverwantedto survive this,” he says, and there is a deep well of grief in his voice that I have not heard since the first day he walked into Njáll’s office.
I feel empathy for him, but it is… distant. Second to the anger that trembles through me.
It is one thing to hurt oneself. It is one thing to want to kill someone like Meilyr, someone like Tamesis… someonecrueland devoid of empathy themselves.
But Quinn? By all accounts, he was manipulated and is traumatised, and I understand it might be difficult for Augustine to accept he deserves to live, but Augustine is the one who has made a choice to be the worst possible version of himself.
He is clear-eyed about that choice. He rationalises that choice.
And there will be consequences. That hole in my core pulses with pain. There arealwaysconsequences.
“I’ll leave you to it, shall I?” Augustine says, a triumphant smirk on his face, and he is up the stairs and out of the cellar from one blink to the next.
Njáll looks lost once he’s gone. “I thought Deacon would not give in,” he says. I think he is talking to himself. “I thought…”
“He has to protect all his wolves, not just one.”
