“Bitch,” I murmur under my breath, and hide my wings away as she disappears.
“I heard that,” Indya calls.
Sighing, I traipse through the forest to the top of Mount Cole. My legs are heavy, and my head is still stuck in a drugged cloud of fog. I fall with my hands splayed in front of me. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on the path through the trees.
A swirling haze rolls toward me, and when I try to stand my legs give way and I slump back to the ground.
“Over here,” a voice calls through the haze.
The outline of a male appears, followed by another one. I can barely move and when I call for Flynn in my mind, he doesn’t reply. Damn drugs.
A heavy boot hits my side. “Hey, you dead?”
I manage to lift my head and raise a hand. “No.”
“What you doin’ out ‘ere?”
I’m about to reply when Indya appears, kneeling beside me. “Get up, Steel, now.”
“Can’t...” I try to push myself up. My face hits the dirt again.
There’s concern in Indya’s voice, “Steel, they’re Fray, get up. I’ll go get Flynn.” She pushes a small pill into my mouth, then disappears. I force it to the back of my tongue and swallow hard.
One of the guys grabs my arm and lifts me while the other hooks his arm under mine and they drag me along the ground. My body doesn’t work the way it should, every breath is heavy, every movement sends pain pulsating through my muscles. Whatever Indya gave me isn’t working. Or maybe it is. Damn this curse.
I’m shoved into the back seat of a car. “Do you think he’s an angel?” one guy asks.
The other guy replies, “Dunno, if he is, the Commander’s gonna reward us for sure.”
The first guy whispers, “Check if he has wings.”
“Fuck off, Three, I’m not taking his shirt off.”
The car doors slam shut. “Hey, pretty boy, you an angel?”
I squint, only able to make out the fuzzy outlines of their heads. I call Flynn in my mind again as my vision clears. “What?” I slip in and out of consciousness before Flynn appears in front of the car. Where the hell did he come from?
The two guys get out, ready to fight, not realising Flynn will kill them if he has to.
Indya appears beside me. “Looks like the witches lied.”
I shake my head, still groggy, as Indya pierces my arm with a needle. My muscles tense, electricity runs through my veins and my eyes flash open wide. A second later I’m outside the car.
“You’re finally awake, brother.” Flynn’s holding both the guys by their arms.
They struggle to get out of his grasp. “Who sent you here?” I ask.
“No one. We were just lookin’ around.”
“We know you’re Fray. What’s your number?”
He sighs and drops his head. “Three,” he mumbles. “He’s Two. We don’t know nothin’. Twelve told us to come check the tracks, make sure they were clear.”
Two shakes his head. “Don’t kill us, please, we won’t tell.”
Flynn sighs, and I cock my head. “We’ll let you go, this time. But we see you around here again, you’re dead. Got it?”
They both nod, and when Flynn releases his grip, they run back to the car and take off down the mountain.
As I walk beside Flynn, Indya hands me a cigarette. I take a puff and blow out the smoke.
Flynn waves his hand in front of his face. “You have no willpower at all.”
I laugh. “And you do, man whore?”
Indya laughs, but when Flynn glares at her, she starts humming as she skips along beside us.
“Where were you, Flynn? I called you.”
He adjusts himself. “I was busy with Autumn. I didn’t know you were out here getting shit-faced and kidnapped by the Fray.”
I pat his back. “Well, thanks, brother, I owe you one.”
“You owe me a lot more than one, brother.”
CHAPTER THREE
Crime and punishment.
ROMAN
CORBIN SITS ON A LEATHER chair beside me with a smirk on his stupid face.
The Commander takes a swig of whiskey and raises his brow. “What are you going to do, Eleven?”
“Die,” Corbin murmurs under his breath and follows it with a snigger.
I want to punch him, but he’s right. This is a death sentence, there’s no doubt about it. For months I’ve waited for the punishment Commander Malum promised. Until yesterday I thought he’d forgotten. I should have known better.
My eyes are fixed on his. “Go to the Fallons, tell them I have a gift from the Commander for Flynn and Autumn’s engagement.”
“If you get out of this alive, Eleven, which I doubt, you’ll be promoted to Twelve.”
Corbin jumps from his seat and glares at me. He shifts his gaze to the Commander. “This is bullshit. He’s not ready to be a Twelve.”
Commander Malum stands and raises his hand. Corbin slumps into his chair and sighs as the Commander continues, “The engagement party is at eight pm on the twenty-third. Corbin will be watching from the forest.” He waves a hand toward the door, and Corbin and I get up and leave.
“You’re fucked.” Corbin laughs.
Ignoring him, I follow him down to the basement where the angel once laid on the steel-framed bed. All that’s left now are his wings, but I can still hear his screams of agony, and feel the eyes of the Commander and Corbin on me as I sawed through the solid bones where the wings met his shoulder blades.
Blood and broken, scattered feathers covered his flesh, and when the wings were finally removed, the raw open wounds knitted themselves back together leaving behind two, raised scars.
The Commander filled a box of vials with the angel’s blood, then ordered me to kill him. A sword through the heart was all it took. So much for being immortal.
Corbin sits on the low stool and lights up a cigarette, blowing smoke into the air. He takes a vial of angel blood from the cabinet and fills a syringe. When he pierces it into his vein, he leans back against the wall, the cigarette still stuck firmly between his lips as he talks, “You reckon this has gone off or somethin’?”
I shrug. It’s not working like it did the first time. I’ve tried doubling the dose and injecting it every hour. It’s as though we’ve become immune to it. What if the angel has to be alive for it to work?
He puffs on the cigarette and blows out the smoke, then injects another syringe full into his vein. “Want some?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
With his eyes on the syringe, he continues, “You’re not getting out of the Fallons alive.”
There’s always a chance. “And if I do?”
He crosses one leg over his knee and throws the syringe into the trash can. “You won’t. Now, get those fucking wings. Let’s go.”
“How the hell am I supposed to carry them?”
He shrugs. “How should I know?”
I roll my eyes. I’ve had Corbin following my every move for months. “Don’t you have something to do? Someone to fuck?” I ask.
He laughs before going to the drug cabinet and taking a handful of pills he washes down with a bottle of beer. “Rules, Eleven. Where you go, I go.” He stubs his cigarette out on the counter, then flicks it away.