The Ravenous Dark, page 7
No one.
With a shaky sigh, she backtracked out the front door. She shivered as the wards fell into place then briskly walked away. Habit steered her to the main staircase leading to the Grand Salon, but she came to an abrupt halt halfway there.
What if, the past few nights, the Wildings had been studying her movements? If they had, then surely they would expect her to follow her usual route. Bailey's grip tightened on the statuette and spun on her heel abruptly. She eyed the shared antechamber of the Royal Households shrewdly. If she remembered correctly, there was a secret passage behind one of the large paintings lining the wall.
Rolling her shoulders back, Bailey set off to test them one by one. The raven immediately proved to be a nuisance as she balanced it under one arm while trying not to tear the painting off the wall with her lycan strength. If she'd been paying more attention, she would have heard the succinct click of heels approaching from behind.
"What are you doing?"
Bailey yelped and spun around. Then glared. "Gods, Fox, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
The young vampyré's brown eyes shone with amusement. "I'd gathered as much." Bailey crossed her arms as best she could and hmphed.
"What are you lurking around here for at this hour?" Bailey demanded defensively.
Fox's eyebrows shot up. "Lurking? William and mine's private suite is just down the hall on the Roux side. As for the time… I wanted something fresh to snack on." Bailey's lips sank in disapproval, which Fox ignored. "Why are you trying to rip these paintings down?"
"I'm not," Bailey argued though her flushed cheeks suggested the opposite. "I'm looking for a passageway," she confessed with exasperation.
"It's that one there." Fox pointed to an oversized portrait two down from where they stood. "But it doesn't have many exit points that I know of, only entrances." Bailey cursed. "Where are you trying to go?"
"The fifth subfloor."
"And the main hallways aren't to your liking tonight?" Fox's lips hitched up into a smirk at Bailey's scowl. "Come on; you can use the servants' passageway from my suite. It connects to the Gunwyns', so you'll need to skip the first door you come across; otherwise, you'll end up in their foyer on the first subfloor. You can use one of the other two doors after it."
Bailey's shoulders sagged in relief as Fox led them to her suite. "Thanks," Bailey said. "Where will the other doors spit me out?"
"The second and third subfloor."
Bailey's eyes widened as they entered. She paused as the door shut behind her. The walls were a rich teal, and at least a dozen exotic plants peppered the cozy receiving room. The striking colors were balanced by the minimal leather and cream-colored furnishings.
"This is not what I was expecting." Bailey wandered over to Fox, who was already on the far side of the room. Fox pushed at one of the board and batten panels. It popped open with a satisfying click. Fox stepped aside as she pulled the door open wide. The scent of blood, smoke, and damp soil wafted from the hidden passage. Bailey's nose wrinkled.
Fox lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Think of it as his and hers. The bedroom's red." Bailey mirrored Fox's grin.
"Thanks again," Bailey said, sliding past Fox into the passageway.
"No problem. You can pay me back later." Bailey's answering scowl was cut short as Fox closed the door in her face.
"Rude." Fox's laughter sounded from the other side of the door at Bailey's remark. Bailey rolled her eyes and started down the hall. At least she didn't ask about the statuette.
The passageway was much like all the others in the court. The lighting was sparse but manageable. A decaying dampness clung to the air like a leech that seemed to step from the stone walls that were achingly cool to the touch. The only major difference Bailey spied was that the floor and stairs weren't as worn as the others. Faint noises tickled Bailey's ears as she passed the first doorway two flights down into her trek. Embossed on the door's face was a gothic-styled G. The Gunwyns.
Bailey slowed to a stop as she approached the next stairwell. The noise was growing closer. She assumed it had come from the Gunwyns. She was wrong. Bailey strained to discern the noise. It sounded like footsteps and heavy breathing. She inched forward, peering down the thin stairwell with eyes narrowed.
"Is someone—hey!"
Two bodies shot out from the winding corner of the stairwell. Both were small and slight with mousy features. Twins, Bailey ascertained a second before stumbling back from the lip of the stairwell. The women didn't hesitate to pounce on her, clawing for the raven statuette with irksome determination.
"Get back here!" Bailey roared as one of them made off successfully with the raven.
Bailey lunged to the left to bypass the remaining twin but was blocked. With a growl, she tried shoving past her, but the woman put up a surprising degree of resistance.
"Move," Bailey emphasized her fearsome growl with a pointed flash of golden eyes. The remaining twin scampered out of her way with an eep, before shifting in fright. Dozens of cracks and pops rang out as she shrank in size, her body conforming to its animal form: a dormouse.
Startled squeaks sounded from the pile of clothes left in the wake of her transformation. Then a tiny, bulbous head emerged with rounded ears. Another squeak—this one edging on indignation—catapulted from the dormouse as it fled the sanctuary of clothes and scurried down the passageway from which Bailey came.
"Damnit."
Bailey shot down the stairs after the twin with her prize. The other twin might have had a head start, but she was no match for the she-wolf's speed. In minutes, Bailey had her cornered. The dormouse shifter looked anxiously around as Bailey approached.
"Your sister's long gone." Bailey watched in satisfaction as the blood drained from her face. Anticipation blazed through her veins as she stepped closer. "She scampered off somewhere upstairs away from the big bad she-wolf."
"She wasn't supposed to do that," the woman said with a scowl.
Bailey smiled. "Tough shit. Hand over the raven."
"No."
Her smile dropped. "I said, hand over the raven. Now. You don't want to get on my bad side." Just as she had with her sister, Bailey allowed her lycan gold eyes to shine. The dormouse jerked back but stood her ground, clutching the raven statuette closer to her chest. With her supernatural hearing, the twin's racing heart was crystal clear. A growl simmered at the back of Bailey's throat in warning.
"I can't. I'm not supposed to let you have it back without a fight." The young woman tilted her chin up, body trembling. "So, if you want it, you'll have to take it from me."
Bailey's adrenaline cooled as she let the gold drain from her vision. "Seriously?" The woman gave a jerky nod in return, and Bailey ground her teeth together. She didn't want to fight, let alone someone almost half her size. She held out a hand expectantly. "How about we say we did and don't? I don't want to hurt you."
The dormouse's posture stiffened as her upper lip curled back. "Then you're not cut out for the Wildings. Even runners will encounter resistance. Like I said before, the only way you're getting this raven is if you take it from me."
"Fine." The dormouse's eyes widened as Bailey shrugged, and then lunged.
A brief tug-of-war ensued, wherein Bailey learned three things. First, dormice fought dirty. More than once, she was forced to smack away the young woman's face as she tried to bite Bailey's wrist and hand. Second, she sported a W tattoo on the inside of her wrist. And third, a dormouse's strength was no match against a she-wolf.
Bailey used the woman's momentum against her, flinging her against the opposing wall with jarring strength. She crumpled to the ground with a groan as her head smacked against the stone. With a far gentler tug, Bailey took the raven from her clutches.
"Do yourself a favor and stay down," Bailey commanded, earning a glazed glare from her opponent. Bailey didn't stick around to see if she listened, hustling down the final stairwell on sure feet. Her mind and body buzzed from the win as she reached the end of the door to the third subfloor. If the dormice encounter was anything to go by, she would be a Wilding in no time.
The third subfloor housed the old Vrana suites and the Lambergs. Bailey knew the floor well, or as well as anyone could a labyrinth. The hallways twisted and turned mindlessly, only to stop at jarring dead ends. It didn't help that nearly all the decor was identical, doors included, nor that the floor was enchanted against unwanted visitors with a spell to confuse them further.
Bailey didn't think she was an unwanted visitor—the floor wards had confirmed it when she stepped foot in its hall after all—but she was also fairly positive she'd passed the same portrait of a milkmaid twice now. She blamed her confusion on the adrenaline coursing through her.
She shuffled to a stop at the next intersection. To the left, the hallway stretched on without any notable landmarks. Bailey was hoping to spot the tapestry that concealed the Vranas exclusive entrance to the court from their modern Vienna apartments. It was how she and River first arrived some four months ago, but luck wasn't on her side.
Bailey passed a look to her right and stiffened at the sight that greeted her halfway down the hall. It was another duo, this time male. One was tall and lanky with an impressive set of bloodred horns spiraling from the sides of its head. The other was of average height and far more muscular than his compatriot. He didn't own a pair of devilish horns, but his eyes were consumed with black.
Dormice to demons? That hardly seemed fair.
"Whatcha got there, wolf girl?" the lanky one called as he strolled forward. "Mind if we get a better look at it?"
Bailey pasted on a saccharine smile and subtly shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. "No can do, boys. I've got places to go, people to see, and no time to waste on a pair of lunkheads."
The shorter of the two snarled and darted forward, but his friend put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Now, now, there's no need to be mean," the lanky one said. His voice was teasing as a wicked grin lit up his face. Bailey's breath caught involuntarily as his tongue wet his bottom lip. His amber eyes combed over Bailey. "We're out here to do a job, just like you. And I, for one, have always been fond of mixing business with pleasure." Heat erupted in Bailey's lower abdomen as the demon held her gaze captive. A desire demon, she realized, with mounting lust that drew shameful wetness between her legs the longer she stared into his eyes. The demon prowled forward slowly, his movements confident and utterly hypnotizing.
Bailey's better senses fled, despite her best efforts to maintain them. She gulped. She was forgetting something. Something very important, but she couldn't remember what.
And the demon was getting closer.
"Bailey?"
The she-wolf's eyes widened comically as she spun around. Approaching from behind was Ronan. He eyed the scene with obvious distaste.
"Ronan." Bailey cringed at the pitch of her voice and cleared her throat. "What are you doing here? I—" She glanced over her shoulder, but the two demons were gone. Her sex throbbed feebly as the demon's strange influence abated.
Bailey swallowed thickly and then looked back. Ronan was almost upon her. Her thighs clenched instinctively at his stormy regard.
Apparently, the demon's magic was unnecessary to further facilitate Bailey's deep-seated longing for Ronan. "I was just—"
"What are you doing with that?" Ronan's eyes were pinned to the marble raven in her arms. She tightened her grip on it unconsciously as her mind raced for an explanation. "My family gifted that to the Vranas over a decade ago."
"I'm getting it cleaned," she blurted out.
Ronan's gray eyes hardened as they lifted to meet her own. His lips pressed thin, drawing out the hollowness of his cheeks. He didn't believe her. It was written all over his face. To be fair, Bailey didn't believe her lie either. She bit her tongue in search of something else to say. She couldn't afford him to find out the truth, and by his expression, she was about to face an interrogation.
"Why did you run off that night? And why haven't you responded to my messages?" Bailey asked as his lips began to part. The suspicion he wore dropped in favor of shock. Ronan glanced away, and Bailey's heart lurched inside her chest. "Am I honestly just some kid to you?"
The quiet was suffocating as she awaited his answer. Spots of pink peppered Ronan's face.
"No, you're not a kid to me," he responded, drawing out the words with painful deliberation. He ran a hand over the superfine military cut of his hair. "But things in my life are complicated right now, and I don't see them getting better any time soon."
"I see." Except she didn't. Bailey didn't understand what could be so complicated that it would make Ronan averse to acknowledging her presence for eleven nights, let alone their soulmark. "And once things get better?" Bailey ventured to ask.
His next pause triggered a flicker of hope inside her. Some nameless emotion strove to conquer his features that he battled back as he gazed at her. She leaned forward, heart in her throat. All her grand plans of patiently convincing Ronan to take a chance on them warred with the sudden urge to kiss him again. Butterflies erupted in her stomach at the thought, and she took a cautious step forward. Her movement broke Ronan from his contemplation.
"Bailey…."
That tone. The she-wolf's throat closed up. It was the same one he used the night of the wedding, right after she asked him to dance. Stupid. Push too soon, and you’ll never get him. As rejection loomed on Ronan's lips, she took a hasty step back. If the words never made it out of his mouth, it didn't count. Right?
"You know what? Maybe we can talk about this later. I'm busy at the moment." Bailey hiked the statuette up, bringing Ronan's focus back to it.
"Busy, huh? Getting the statuette cleaned?"
Bailey nodded briskly, hardly able to hold his eye. The butterflies were gone leaving a hollow space in her gut that clenched uncomfortably. Ronan's throat bobbed as he took a step forward, and her, one back. She shook her head and offered a tight smile.
"Later," she forced out. Then turned tail and ran.
After a frustrating ten minutes, Bailey escaped the floor's maze-like design and trotted down the grand staircase to the fifth subfloor.
No dormice or demons ambushed her, a fact Bailey was immensely grateful for as she got a grip on her nerves. She couldn't believe she actually ran from him, especially after giving him hell for doing the same. Bailey cursed herself. The past eleven nights, she’d agonized over what to say to him once they finally met, but in under five minutes, she messed it all up.
Bailey glanced at the raven statuette. What kind of joke was fate playing on her that the item she was tasked to steal was gifted by the Corvina family to the Vranas?
Bailey's footsteps slowed as she neared the old pits. The familiar scent of ancient blood and sweat permeated the air as she neared. Bailey entered, her senses on high alert. The room was cast in darkness, but Bailey was positive she wasn't alone. The faint drum of heartbeats punctuated her supernatural hearing.
"Franklin?"
She gripped the statuette low and out to the side, ready to strike out if need be as she crept further inside. Something thickened in the air, messing with her hearing and scent. Her nose twitched irritably at the strong presence of magic. She shook her head in frustration and held off a sneeze. At least her lycan vision wasn't affected. She could still make out certain shapes in the dark and avoid them.
Bailey walked the perimeter of the nearest fighting pit, moving toward what she thought was a standing lamp, when a movement to her left caught her off guard. She struck out with the raven but hit only air. Her opponent's aim, however, struck true.
She fell into the pit as something flat and hard smashed against the back of her head. Dirt and grime plowed into her mouth as she landed on her face, busting her lip, and bruising her side. The veil of magic lifted. Cries and shouts bellowed from the wings of the room. Above her prone position, lights shot to life. Bailey spat out the foul soil and rolled to her back. One hand pressed itself snugly against the lump growing on her head, and the other acted as a shield from the blinding light.
"Well, well, well, she finally made it. Did the dormice give you too much trouble? Or was it the demons?"
Jeers bounced off the walls. Bailey pushed up onto her elbows, squinting up at the man who taunted her from inside the ring. His face was annoyingly familiar, as was his voice. It was the man with the pointed chin who heckled Emmanuel during his sparring session. Hovering at his side was the bulky man. He looked far more intimidating with a torso full of scars and thick stacked muscles on display.
"Nah." Bailey pushed herself up onto her feet. The room wobbled before her eyes as she regained her equilibrium. "Just didn't see a reason to rush."
Bailey quickly scanned the room for Franklin. She spotted the owl shifter at the back of the room seated on a high stool. The owl shifter wiggled her fingers in greeting and blew a kiss.
"No reason?" A voice called from behind. Bailey shifted to look over her shoulder and bit back a gasp. A third shifter was in the fighting pit. In one hand was a plank of wood; in the other, the raven. "Not even for this?"
A spike of anger burned through Bailey, potent and all-consuming. "Give it back."
The third shifter, a female sporting box braids well past her shoulders, tossed her plank of wood aside to grip the statuette with both hands. Her biceps bulged as she put pressure on either end of the raven. "Nah," she mocked and then snapped the raven's body from its legs and perch.
Cold fury washed over Bailey that distilled swiftly into intense predatory focus as silence spread itself across the room like a heavy blanket. The female shifter smirked and tossed the pieces to the ground.
"You'll have to deliver both pieces to Franklin to call yourself one of us." The female tossed her braids over her shoulders before hunching forward in a fighting stance. "We won't go easy on you."
