Wicked
Page 97

My wild gaze found Ren on the other side of the room. He too was sitting up. Our eyes locked, and whatever relief we saw in each other's gazes faded away. A soft breeze swept over my skin, tossing the loose curls across my face. I turned slowly to the door, inhaling the sudden honeysuckle scent.
The blue light was gone. The door no longer rattled, but every hair on my body rose as an icy chill snaked down my spine. Carefully, I rose to my knees and stood up. I saw Val do the same thing, but she . . . she was backing away from the door and she was . . . smiling. I didn't understand, couldn't fathom it, even as she looked over her shoulder, her gaze finding me. The smile only faltered a little.
Oh no. No, no, no.
I couldn't be seeing this. It had to mean something else because there was no way—absolutely no way. They had to have gotten to her somehow, but I saw that she wore her bracelet, the one that held the clover in it. I'd never seen her without it.
A lock turned and clicked, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. Pulse pounding rapidly, I swallowed hard as another lock unclicked. The doorknob rattled once, twice, then turned slowly.
My heart stopped as I tightened my grip on the stake.
An unnatural hush settled over the room as Order members and fae alike rose to their feet, and then the door swung open.
Chapter Twenty Two
Darkness like I'd never seen before hovered inside the empty doorway. A shadow so deep and thick, it pulsed as it moved out from the entry, the thick edge of it latching on to the wall above the door. It moved, fluid like oil as it climbed the wall and seeped forward. The tin material popped under the weight as it slid over the ceiling. Tendrils of black smoke extended out, whipping into the air. The scent of honeysuckle grew.
"Oh, that's so not good," I murmured, taking a step back.
Wisps of black smoke funneled down from the ceiling, several columns forming at once. I lost count at ten. The shadows spun dizzyingly, revealing a bright blue light from the center. The light pulsed once and the shadows dissipated, as if a great wind had scattered the smoke.
In the place of the shadows stood tall men wearing some kind of dark pants, maybe leather. Their feet and chests were bare. On their right arms was a band with some kind of writing I didn't recognize. All of them had short hair, nearly black, buzzed close to the skull. Their eyes were like frozen lakes as they surveyed their surroundings.
The fae in the room suddenly dropped to their knees, bowing their heads, oblivious to the Order members still standing.
And that was a really bad sign.
I drew in a sharp breath then it caught as another shadow moved from the doorway. A man walked through, not a cloud of evil mist, but a man well over six and a half feet. He wore the same kind of black breeches, but a white linen shirt clung to his broad shoulders. As if he'd grown bored of buttoning it, half of his bronze chest was exposed. His raven colored hair was longer, brushing his shoulders, and his features were astoundingly angular. All the raw beauty the fae seemed to have pieced his face together. He was so beautiful he was almost hard to look at, and it was unnatural, too unreal.
And there wasn't an ounce of compassion or humanity in his features.
I didn't need anyone to tell me who or what he was. The way he held his head high, the slight curl of distaste to his full lips, how he cast his gaze around the room with a look of arrogant dismissal.
The prince.
The prince had arrived.
And the men before him were the knights. They were free, and before the full horror of that could be recognized, one of the knights stepped toward the closest Order member and thrust his hand out, shoving it clean through the man's chest.
Chaos ensued.
Order members charged the knights as the fae remained in their obedient, kneeling positions. Instinct guided me. I reached for my left arm, unhooking the thorn stake strapped there. Grunts of pain and the wheezing sound of last breaths being taken surrounded me as I stepped forward, preparing to engage the nearest knight.
Then I saw Val.
She was walking at a rapid pace behind the prince, who with a simple raise of his hand, sent anyone standing in front of him flying to the sides. The show of power was shocking. Within seconds, he was at the entry to the hallway and then he was gone from my sight, Val right behind him.
I hesitated, my frantic gaze finding Ren ducking under the outstretched arm of one of the knights and popping up behind him. He slammed his booted foot into the knight's back, bringing the powerful creature to its knees. A second passed and then Ren saw me, and I knew what I had to do.
I spun around and raced for the hallway, darting around those who had fallen—some injured, some never getting back up again. I thought I heard someone shout my name, but I threw open the door and crossed the short hallway, peering over the railing. Down below, I saw the bright red of Val's shirt slipping through the front door.
"Val!" Taking the steps two at a time, I rushed through the foyer and caught the front door before it swung shut. I burst outside, startling a group of teenagers standing on the curb.
Looking left and right, I caught sight of Val heading toward the French Quarter. My brain had clicked off. Duty demanded that I go after the prince. I'd been the closest to the door, and I knew others would soon be in pursuit—if they could get out of that house, but it was more than just duty.
I had to get to Val. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was denial that she had purposely enabled the ancient to open the door—that she had willingly left with the prince. Deep down, I knew that she was a traitor, that she had already betrayed us, but some little part of me thought I could fix this, if I could just get to her. Because she had to have been compelled. Maybe she'd been caught without protection like Merle—like I had been.