Page 29 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals
“They can put themselves back together, too,” she adds. “The one you smashed should begin healing itself any minute now. And if a living thing remains in their presence too long, they start crawling toward it. They can travel horizontally,vertically... they’ll do anything to get close to the object of their interest.”
“How charmingly dangerous. Rather like someone else I know.”
“Yourself, I assume.”
“No, love. I’m dangerously charming.”
She scoffs. “I find you detestably obnoxious.”
“Is that so?” Chewing my lip, I glance upward at the ceiling beams. They look sturdy enough, more so than the plaster between them. If I can climb the one nearest me outward to the central beam, then I can travel along that beam to the exit door.
I launch myself forward, slamming both my climbing gloves against the beam and trying to catch the wood with my toe spikes at the same time. My grip is solid, but both my feet miss, and my lower half swings downward until my boots are dangling dangerously close to the bodach beads.
“Fuck,” I snarl through the strain. The muscles of my arms and shoulders scream at me, but I ignore them and engage my core, swinging my body back and forth, back and forth, thenupwith all my might. I kick one spiked toe into the beam and hear the satisfying splinter of the wood. I bring my other foot up, setting the side of my boot against the beam. I’d like to hang there for two seconds to rest, but I know my muscles have limits. I need to do this fast, or I’ll crash down into those cursed ornaments and be pulverized.
I crawl along the crossbeam, spider-like, upheld by my hands and legs and force of will, until I reach the central beam. My arms are starting to shake, but I keep going, teeth clenched, bones aching, breath rasping through my lungs.
Why is this such a big fucking room? Why did she have to carpet the floor with those damn ornaments? When am I going to catch a break?
“You seem tired and weak,” she purrs.
“Do I?” I grunt, reaching ahead to grasp the central beam. The muscles in my abdomen are tight, aching. I need a distraction, so I blurt out, “Did you kill your team, Devilry?”
She’s silent for a moment. “You heard the screams.”
I’m huffing with effort and can’t spare breath to reply. From my position, clinging to the ceiling beam, I can see the exit door. There’s a swath of clear space in front of it. She must have run out of bodach beads.
I double up, swing, and flip, landing in a crouch on the bare wooden floor. I stay frozen for a second despite the ache in my thighs, waiting to see if I landed in a trap. When nothing happens, I straighten and remove my climbing gear.
“I don’t think you caused those screams, love,” I tell her. “Maybe something else is in this fortress. Something you’re afraid of, too.” When she doesn’t answer, I grin. “Ah, so I’ve hit the tender truth.”
“You won’t be able to get through that door,” she snaps. “It’s shielded. I can shield anything I want from the observation room.”
“The observation room, eh? Now that’s a tasty bit of information. Where might this observation room be? The tower, perhaps?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re trapped.”
“Trapped?” I chuckle. “The thing about me, sweetheart, is I’ve never met a trap I couldn’t break out of.” I set down my pack and open it, taking out the can of gel paint. Not much remains, but it should be enough.
“That stuff won’t work on spelled doors in Faerie,” she says, but I know she’s bluffing.
“It worked on the outer walls, so I’m sure it would work on the door. But if I know you, as I’m beginning to, you’ve got yet another trap lying in wait right outside. Which means I’m not going to use it on the door, love.”
I daub the gel on the floor and light it. While counting down in my head, I tense my body and do another flip, this time to the top of a display case—not the one with the gauntlet, though. This case has metal framing and looks much sturdier than the first one.
Thankfully, my faith is rewarded. When I land on the case, it shakes, but it doesn’t break or collapse.
An orange glow snakes along the lines I painted, and the gel hisses as it ignites. The explosion shakes the room, and I nearly topple into the bodach beads, but I manage to stay on my perch.
There’s now a big hole in the floor, through which I can see another room below. This one looks pleasant and well-lit, with study tables and examination areas.
“It’s been a pleasure traversing your chamber of terrors,” I say.
“You’re an idiot,” she spits out. “You could have stepped down from the window, moved some of the beads gently out of the way, and cleared a space there to paint your explosive. You didn’t have to clamber across the ceiling like a roach.”
“I didn’t want to step down from the window,” I retort. “That fire trap could still have been active. Just let me use my own methods to avoid your snares, alright?”
“You’re going about this in the clumsiest, most awkward way possible.”
