House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

The sharp tone was enough to make Bryce peer into the river’s darkness, the tunnel on either side. Even the call of the Starsword and Truth-Teller became secondary as she asked, “How did it disappear?”

“Deep pits in the riverbed,” Azriel murmured. “It got one whiff of Nesta’s power and dove into one. But from the shaking of the stone … it’s staying close. Watching us.”

“Then why the fuck are we standing in the river?”

Nesta smirked at her. “Bait.”



* * *



Make your brother proud.

The Viper Queen might as well have shot Ithan in the fucking gut. Like she knew precisely how ashamed Connor would have been of how far he’d fallen.

“What’s she going to do about Sabine?” Tharion asked Ithan as he entered the suite once more. Right—he’d told them that was what he wanted to learn from her.

“Nothing,” Ithan said.

Sigrid sat on the couch beside Declan, watching his fingers fly over his phone.

“Where’s Marc?” Ithan asked.

“Pulled the lawyer privileges card,” Flynn answered for Dec. “Fed the guards some crap about legal stuff. He got a message from the Viper Queen a minute after you left, saying he was free to go.”

So that was what the Viper Queen had been typing on her computer.

“Go where?”

“To his firm,” Dec said, still focusing on his phone. “He’s going to look into whether there’s a legal way to get us all out of this shitshow.”

“I might have a solution for that,” Ithan said. They all looked at him.

Tharion asked quietly, “What did she offer you, pup?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Tharion stood from the table by the fighting ring window. “Did you—”

“One fight—from me. Tomorrow night.”

Sigrid’s eyes widened. “What sort of fight?”

Ithan pointed to the window behind Tharion. “One of her fancy ones. Down there.”

“Did she say who?” He’d never seen Ketos’s face so serious. “You should have made her specify. She’s going to screw you over—screw us all over somehow.” Tharion’s voice sharpened. “What the Hel were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Ithan shot back, “that you made a stupid choice, and I was trying to get you out of it. Get us all out of this mess.”

Tharion blinked at him, eyes dark. Cold. “I didn’t ask you to get me out of it. You think I can just walk out of here? I can’t.”

“The Viper Queen said you could—”

“And what then?” The mer got to his feet. “I’ll be right back at the mercy of the River Queen. The Viper Queen knows that—she knows I don’t have any choice but to stay here, with her.” Tharion shook his head in disgust. “You dumb fucking idiot.” With that, the mer stalked out of the room.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then Declan said, “You should have talked to us first.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Ithan snapped. Then sighed. “The Hind gave us two days. Marc’s a genius and all that, but legal shit takes time. We don’t have that.”

“The mer is right,” Sigrid said darkly. “You shouldn’t trust someone like her. Anyone who traffics in lives has no honor.”

“I know,” Ithan said. And for a moment, he could see it in Sigrid’s eyes—the rigid, yet fair Alpha she might be. With the emotional scars to understand the importance and value of each life.

Maybe he should have encouraged her to kill Sabine last night. Ithan sighed again.

Flynn walked to the wet bar. “Better drink up, Holstrom.”

“I never drink before a game,” Ithan said. “Even the day before.”

“Trust me,” Flynn said, pressing a glass of whiskey into Ithan’s hand, “with the Vipe hand-selecting your opponent, you’ll want something to take the edge off.”



* * *



“You left your blood all over the place to lead it along,” Nesta said. “It’s after you—not us. So you’re going to draw it back here.”

Bryce glanced between Nesta and Azriel. They were completely serious.

Bryce pointed to the boulder Nesta had been lying upon moments ago. “So, what, I’m supposed to sit on this rock and wait for the Wyrm to show up and eat me?”

“That last bit is up to you,” Nesta said, turning toward the other end of the river. “But from what I just saw, you’re a fast runner. You’ll get away in time. Probably.”

Asshole.

Azriel murmured, “Quiet,” and Bryce, without much of an alternative, obeyed.

It didn’t matter how brightly her starlight shone. The Wyrm was blind. And it was only a matter of time until it came sniffing again—

It was a matter of seconds, actually.

One moment, there was only the rushing river. The next, a wall of water exploded in front of Azriel, the behemoth body of the Wyrm dwarfing even the warrior’s powerful form.

Bryce had never seen such a horrible creature, even during the attack on Crescent City this spring. Rays of blue light flared from Azriel, spearing for the creature—

They pierced its dark, wet skin and vanished.

It was all Bryce saw before she leapt off the rock, splashing through the water, aiming for the tunnel archway.

Nesta shot past her, Ataraxia in hand, silver fire wreathing the other. But the Wyrm vanished—as fast as it had appeared, it went back into the sinkhole.

“Where is it?” Nesta shouted to Azriel, who pivoted, scanning the river, the tunnel—

Behind them, closer to Bryce, the Wyrm erupted from the water again from another sinkhole. Silver fire blasted past her. The Wyrm screeched as the raw power slammed into its side, setting the caverns shaking, debris and rock splashing into the river.

Then the fire vanished, sucked into its skin. The Wyrm again plunged beneath the water, into the sinkhole.

Azriel and Nesta returned to their back-to-back position, and Bryce gathered her wits enough to say, “What happened?”

“It … it ate my power,” Nesta murmured.

“That’s not possible,” Azriel said, eyes fixed on the river.

“It did,” Nesta snapped. “I felt it.”

“Shit,” Azriel said.

“We need to run,” Bryce said.

“No,” Nesta said, silver fire in her eyes again. “That thing doesn’t get out of this fight alive.”

As if in answer and challenge, the Wyrm leapt from the water, a massive, powerful surge, jaws opening wide toward Nesta and Azriel and Bryce—

A flap of Azriel’s wings and the three of them were airborne, faster than even the Wyrm could attack. It narrowly missed Azriel’s booted feet as it dove again, vanishing once more.

“We need it restrained,” Nesta said to Azriel. “So I can get close with Ataraxia.”

“If your power didn’t kill it, there’s no saying Ataraxia will, either,” Azriel panted, landing them on the bank. “It breaks through my tethers like they’re spiderwebs.”

“Then we get something else to do the fighting for us,” Nesta said, and Azriel whirled to her, as if in alarm.

But Bryce said, “Fine.” And reached a hand out to Azriel. “Give me the Starsword.” She’d led them into this mess—she could try to get them out of it. The Starsword had killed Reapers. Maybe it would kill this thing, too.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel began—but not to Bryce. Dread paled his golden skin. “Nesta—”

Something metallic gleamed like sunshine in Nesta’s hand. A mask.

“Nesta,” Azriel warned, panic sharpening his voice, but too late. She closed her eyes and shoved it onto her face. A strange, cold breeze swept through the tunnel.

Bryce had endured that wind before, in the Bone Quarter. A wind of death, of decay, of quiet. The hair on her arms rose. And her blood chilled to ice as Nesta opened her eyes to reveal only silver flame shining there.

Whatever that mask was, whatever power it had … death lay within it.

“Take it off,” Azriel snarled, but Nesta extended a hand into the darkness of the tunnel.

Mortal, an ancient, bone-dry voice whispered in Bryce’s head. You are mortal, and you shall die. Memento mori. Memento mori, memento—

Bone clicked in the darkness. The earth shook.

Azriel grabbed Bryce, tugging her back against him as he retreated toward the wall, as if it’d offer any shelter from whatever approached. The Starsword and Truth-Teller hummed and pulled at Bryce’s spine, and her hands itched, like she could feel the weapons in her palms—