Groaning in frustration, she rolled as far as she could toward the pile of her clothes with Caius still holding her. She spotted her phone sticking out of a pocket of her crumpled jeans, the screen blinking with the caller ID. She reached for it, but it was just far enough to be out of reach of her wiggling fingers.
“It’s Ivy,” Echo said. Caius harrumphed something that might have been acknowledgment. His arm loosened around her middle, his hand coming to rest on her hip. His thumb brushed the bare skin there. Echo flushed. The easy familiarity with which he touched her was strange, though not at all unwelcome. She shimmied out of his grasp, but not off the daybed completely, and grabbed her phone. With a swipe of her thumb, she silenced Stravinsky, making a note to delete the blasted ringtone from her phone once and for all. Jasper would probably just download it again. Bastard.
“Hey, Ivy,” Echo said as she brought the phone up to her ear. “This had better be good.”
“Oh, Firebird, I assure you. It is.”
Echo’s blood turned to ice. She sat up, her hand clutching the phone hard enough to make the plastic casing creak in protest. Caius looked at her, his brows raised in question. The hand on her hip stilled.
“Tanith.” On Ivy’s phone. Fury blazed through Echo; power sparked at her fingertips. The connection crackled with static as her grip on the phone tightened, her hand hot with magic. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing,” Tanith replied, her tone full of false sweetness. “Yet.” Her voice went distant as she talked to someone on the other end. Echo couldn’t make out the words, but they had the air of a sharply spoken command. She heard the sound of shuffling, as if the phone was being jostled.
The noise ceased, and a sobbing breath came through, loud and clear. “Echo?”
Relief slammed into Echo, hard enough to make her lose her grip on the phone. She caught it with her other hand and brought it up to her ear. “Ivy? Are you okay?”
“Echo, I’m here, I’m okay, but it’s a trap, don’t listen—”
The sound of flesh hitting flesh cut off Ivy’s words. The impact had a meaty sound to it, like a punch. Fire flared up Echo’s free hand, licking all the way to her elbow. All thought of control fled as she imagined Tanith striking Ivy.
I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit.
“Enough of that,” came Tanith’s voice. “The little dove is alive and well. For now.”
“If you hurt Ivy—”
“You’ll what? Set me on fire?” Tanith asked, breaking into a short, mad laugh. “Run me through with that little dagger of yours? We all saw how well that went when that sly little fox tried it. I’d even stand still to let you have a go if you wish. See if you can draw blood this time. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? My blood. Come and get it, if you dare.”
Echo pushed herself off the daybed and began fumbling for her clothes. She put the phone on speaker and tossed it onto the cushions as she attempted to pull her jeans on. Caius followed suit, dressing himself in haste. The tangle of denim proved a struggle for her trembling hands and she gave up on the jeans. “What do you want, Tanith? I’m so fucking sick of your games.”
“Isn’t it obvious? I want you, Firebird.”
“Then leave Ivy out of it.” Echo didn’t trust that Tanith was telling the truth, that she hadn’t harmed Ivy. The thought of her in that monster’s clutches—again—sent Echo’s stomach roiling with a wave of fearful nausea. “Let her go.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Tanith promised. “Once you come home.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The line went dead. The world tilted and Echo’s vision grayed around the edges. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, begging her heart to steady itself. Caius had already taken off, summoning guards and raising the alarm. Echo was still wearing his shirt. Power simmered beneath her skin, itching to be let free. Her muscles trembled with strain. It would have felt so good to let it out, to watch the furniture catch flame. To set the curtains ablaze. The need for release surged so strongly, she almost gave in. A flurry of sparks cascaded to the floor, burning holes in the carpet.
Home.
Not the isolation of Avalon Castle, hidden by its layers of warding and protective spells sealed with Echo’s blood. Not any of the places she had used as hideouts over the last few months in futile attempts to stay safe from the forces that wanted a piece of her.
Home meant only one thing to Echo: New York City. The streets on which she had raised herself. The library in which she had taken shelter. The place that called her back no matter how many times she left it for far-flung lands and exotic locales.
And Tanith was there.
Caius skidded back into the room, now fully clothed. Dorian was on his heels, buckling his sword belt around his waist.
“Echo?” Caius gave her a puzzled frown. She hadn’t budged since he’d left. Every ounce of effort had gone into restraining herself from flying into a blind rage and burning the castle down around her.
Dorian’s gaze slid down to her bare legs and hurriedly up again. He gave Caius a look. Jasper chose that moment to stroll into the room behind them, incongruously blasé. Some of the Avicen at the Icelandic camp had joined them at the keep after Caius’s declaration of a formal cease-fire and Tanith’s revelation that their secret base in Iceland had not been so secret after all. Jasper had been the first to arrive, and his presence at Dorian’s side had caused quite the stir among the Drakharin. Hair-feathers askew from slumber, Jasper followed Dorian’s line of sight. He turned to Caius and said, “Great minds.” He nudged Dorian’s shoulder in what would have been a playful gesture if not for the tightness in his eyes and the hard set of his jaw. His mask was good, but Echo knew him too well to be fooled by it. He was scared.
“Yeah,” Echo said belatedly. The fog of anger thinned as she tried to get her bearings. Pants. She needed pants. And shoes. And a machete to hack Tanith’s head off.
“We have to go,” Caius said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure Echo was entirely present in the moment. Which, she supposed, was fair enough, considering she was standing in the middle of the library on a cold autumn morning half dressed and raining monochrome sparks.
With a brisk nod, Echo pulled on her jeans, singeing them only slightly. Her boots fared slightly better, leather proving far more fire resistant than denim. Control was so distant a possibility it seemed like something she had read about in a book once. She knew it existed, but she wasn’t capable of it. Not just then.