House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City) (39 page)

Bryce waved him off. “All right. We divide and conquer. Try not to attract too much attention.” The last bit she directed at Hunt and Fury, and the merc glowered with impressive menace. “Don’t ask questions. Just watch—listen. June, you take the east stalls, Fury the west ones, Hunt the south, and me …” Her gaze drifted to the northern wall, where
Memento Mori
had been painted. The stalls beneath it—beneath the walkway above—lay within range of the door to the Viper Queen’s quarters.

Fury eyed her, but Bryce winked. “I’m a big girl, Fury. I’ll be fine.”

Hunt grunted, but suppressed any hint of objection.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Fury said. Then asked quietly, “Who is this kid again?”

“His name is Emile,” Bryce whispered. “He’s from Pangera. Thirteen years old.”

“And possibly very, very dangerous,” Hunt warned, glancing at Juniper. “If you spot him, come find us.”

“I can take care of myself, angel,” Juniper said with impressive cool.

“She’s a big girl, too.” Bryce high-fived her friend. “Right. Meet back here in thirty?”

They parted, and Hunt watched Bryce weave through the tables
of the dining area—watched the many patrons note her, but keep well away—before slipping between the stalls. Gazes slid back to him, questioning. Hunt bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

Moving off toward the area she’d ordered him to sweep, Hunt opened his senses, calmed his breathing.

Thirty minutes later, he’d returned to the dining area, Juniper appearing a moment later. “Anything?” he asked the faun, who shook her head.

“Not a whisper.” The dancer frowned. “I really hope that kid isn’t here.” She scowled at the warehouse. “I hate this place.”

“That makes two of us,” Hunt said.

Juniper rubbed at her chest. “You should talk to Celestina about it—the things that happen here. Not only that fighting pit and the warriors the Viper Queen practically enslaves …” The faun shook her head. “The other things, too.”

“Even Micah let the Viper Queen do what she wanted,” Hunt said. “I don’t think the new Governor is going to challenge her anytime soon.”

“Someone should,” she said quietly, eyes drifting to the
Memento Mori
on the wall. “Someday, someone should.”

Her words were haunted and strained enough that Hunt opened his mouth to ask more, but Fury sauntered up, smooth as a shadow, and said, “No sign of the kid.”

Hunt searched the space for Bryce, and found her at a stall far too close to the Fae-guarded door to the Viper Queen’s private living area. The towering Fae sentries a mere fifty feet from her didn’t so much as blink at her presence, though. She had a bag swinging from her wrist, and she was chatting away.

Bryce finished and walked toward them. Again, too many eyes watched her.

“She’s got some pep in her step,” Juniper observed, chuckling. “She must have gotten a good bargain.”

The tang of blood and bone and meat stuffed itself up Hunt’s nose as Bryce approached. “I got some lamb bones from the butcher for Syrinx. He goes crazy for the marrow.” She added to Juniper, “Sorry.”

Right. The faun was a vegetarian. But Juniper shrugged. “Anything for the little guy.”

Bryce smiled, then surveyed them all. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Hunt said.

“Me neither,” Bryce said, sighing.

“What now?” Fury asked, monitoring the crowd.

“Even if Declan and Ithan can’t find any footage of Emile around the Black Dock,” Bryce said, “the fact that there’s no hint of him here at the Meat Market leads us right back to the Bone Quarter again. So it gives us a bit more reason to even ask the Under-King about whether Emile is there.”

Hunt’s blood sparked. When she talked like that, so sure and unflinching … His balls tightened. He couldn’t wait to show her just how insanely that turned him on.

But Juniper whispered, “A little boy in the Bone Quarter …”

“We’ll find him,” Bryce assured her friend, and threw an arm around Juniper’s shoulders, turning them toward the exit. Hunt swapped a look with Fury, and they followed. Hunt let Bryce and Juniper drift ahead a few feet, and then, when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, asked Axtar, “Why does your girlfriend hate this place so much?”

Fury kept her attention on the shadows between the stalls, the vendors and shoppers. “Her brother was a fighter here.”

Hunt started. “Does Bryce know?”

Fury nodded shallowly. “He was talented—Julius. The Viper Queen recruited him from his training gym, promised him riches, females, everything he wanted if he signed himself into her employ. What he got was an addiction to her venom, putting him in her thrall, and a contract with no way out.” A muscle ticked in Fury’s jaw. “June’s parents tried everything to get him freed.
Everything
. Lawyers, money, pleas to Micah for intervention—none of it worked. Julius died in a fight ten years ago. June and her parents only learned about it because the Viper Queen’s goons dumped his body on their doorstep with a note that said
Memento Mori
on it.”

The elegant dancer strode arm-in-arm with Bryce. “I had no idea.”

“June doesn’t talk about it. Even with us. But she hates this place more than you can imagine.”

“So why’d she come?” Why had Bryce even invited her?

“For Bryce,” Fury said simply. “Bryce told her she didn’t have to join, but she wanted to come with us. If there’s a kid running around lost in this place, June would do anything to help find him. Even come here herself.”

“Ah,” Hunt said, nodding.

Fury’s eyes glittered with dark promise. “I’ll burn this place to the ground for her one day.”

Hunt didn’t doubt it.

An hour later, Bryce’s arms and stomach trembled as she held her plank on the floor of her apartment building’s gym, sweat dripping off her brow and onto the soft black mat beneath. Bryce focused on the droplet as it splattered, on the music thumping in her earbuds, on breathing through her nose—
anything
other than the clock.

Time itself had slowed. Ten seconds lasted a minute. She pushed her heels back, steadying her body. Two minutes down. Three more to go.

Before the Drop, she’d usually managed a decent minute in this position. After it, in her immortal body, five minutes should be nothing.

Master her powers, indeed. She needed to master her body first. Though she supposed magic was ideal for lazy people: she didn’t need to be able to hold a plank for ten minutes if she could just unleash her power. Hel, she could blind someone while sitting down if she felt like it.

She chuckled at the idea, horrible as it was: her lounging in an oversize armchair, taking down enemies as easily as if she were changing the channel with a remote. And she
did
have enemies now, didn’t she? She’d killed a fucking Reaper today.

As soon as those Death Marks arrived from Jesiba tomorrow morning, she’d demand answers from the Under-King.

It was why she’d come down here—not only to validate her excuse
for leaving the apartment. Well, that and seeing Danika on Declan’s laptop as it scanned through footage. Her head had begun spinning and acid had been burning through her veins, and sweating it all out seemed like a good idea. It always worked in Madame Kyrah’s classes.

She owed June a massive box of pastries for coming tonight.

Bryce checked the clock on her phone. Two minutes fifteen seconds. Fuck this. She plopped onto her front, elbows splaying, and laid her face directly on the mat.

A moment later, a foot prodded her ribs. Since there was only one other person in the gym, she didn’t bother to be alarmed as she craned her neck to peer up at Hunt. His lips were moving, sweat beading his brow and dampening his tight gray T-shirt—gods-damn it. How could he look so good?

She tugged an earbud out. “What?” she asked.

“I asked if you were alive.”

“Barely.”

His mouth twitched, and he lifted the hem of his T-shirt up to clean his dripping face. She was rewarded with a glimpse of sweat-slicked abs. Then he said, “You dropped like a corpse.”

She cradled her arms, rubbing the sore muscles. “I prefer running. This is torture.”

“Your dance classes are equally grueling.”

“This isn’t as fun.”

He offered her a hand, and Bryce took it, her sweaty skin sliding against his as he hauled her to her feet.

She wiped at her face with the back of her arm, but found it to be equally sweaty. Hunt returned to the array of metal machines that seemed more like torture devices, adjusting the seat on one to accommodate his gray wings. She stood in the center of the room like a total creep for a moment, watching his back muscles ripple as he went through a series of pull-down exercises.

Burning fucking Solas.

She’d blown this male. Had slid down that beautiful, strong body and taken his ridiculously large cock in her mouth and had nearly come herself as he’d spilled on her tongue.

And she knew it was ten kinds of fucked up, considering how much shit they were juggling and all that lay ahead, but …
look
at him.

She wiped at the sweat rolling down her chest, leaving a spectacularly unsexy stain beneath her sports bra.

Hunt finished his set but kept gripping the bar above his head, arms extended high above him, stretching out his back and wings. Even in a T-shirt and gym shorts, he was formidable. And … she was still staring. Bryce twisted back to her mat, grimacing as she put in her earbud and it blasted music. But her body refused to move.

Water. She needed some water. Anything to delay going back to that plank.

She trudged for the wet bar built into the far wall of the gym. The beverage fridge beneath the white marble counter was stocked with glass water bottles and chilled towels, and Bryce helped herself to both. A bowl of green apples sat on the counter, along with a basket full of granola bars, and she took the former, teeth sinking into the crisp flesh.

Fuck doing planks.

Savoring the apple’s tart kiss, she glanced over toward Hunt, but—Where was he? Even that telltale ripple of his power had faded away.

She scanned the expansive gym, the rows of machines, the treadmills and ellipticals before the wall of windows overlooking the bustle of the Old Square. How had he—

Hands wrapped around her waist, and Bryce shrieked, nearly leaping out of her skin. Light erupted from her chest, but with the music thumping in her ears, she couldn’t hear anything—

“Fucking
Hel
, Quinlan!” Hunt said, prying her earbuds away. “Listen to your music a little louder, will you?”

She scowled, pivoting to find him right behind her. “It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t
sneak up on me.
”

He flashed her a sweaty, wicked grin. “Just making sure my Shadow of Death skills don’t get rusty before tomorrow’s tea party with the Under-King. I thought I’d see if I could dim myself a bit.”
Hence her inability to sense him creeping up. He rubbed at his eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be so … jumpy. Or
bright
.”

“I thought you’d praise me for my quick reflexes.”

“Good jump. You almost blinded me. Congrats.”

She playfully slapped his chest, finding rock-hard muscles beneath the sweat-dampened shirt. “Solas, Hunt.” She rapped her knuckles on his pecs. “You could bounce a gold mark off these things.”

His wings rustled. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

She propped her elbows on the counter and bit into her apple again. Hunt extended a hand, and she wordlessly handed him one earbud. He fitted it to his ear, head angling as he listened to the song.

“No wonder you can’t do a plank for more than two minutes, if you’re listening to this sad-sack music.”

“And your music is so much better?”

“I’m listening to a book.”

She blinked. They’d often swapped music suggestions while working out, but this was new. “Which book?”

“Voran Tritus’s memoir about growing up in the Eternal City and how he became, well … him.” Tritus was one of the youngest late-night talk show hosts ever. And absurdly hot. Bryce knew the last fact had little to do with why Hunt tuned in religiously, but it certainly made her own viewing much more enjoyable.

“I’d say listening to a book while working out is even less motivational than this
sad-sack
music,” she said.

“It’s all muscle memory at this point. I only need to pass the time until I’m done.”

“Asshole.” She ate more of her apple, then changed the song. Something she’d first heard in the hallowed space of the White Raven dance club, a remix of a slower song that somehow managed to combine the song’s original sensual appeal with a driving beat that demanded dancing.

The corner of Hunt’s mouth kicked up. “You trying to seduce me with this music?”

She met his gaze as she chewed on another mouthful of apple. The gym was empty. But the cameras … “You’re the one who snuck up to fondle me.”

He laughed, the column of his throat working. A droplet of sweat ran down its powerful length, gleaming among all that golden-brown skin, and her breathing hitched. His nostrils flared, no doubt scenting everything that went hot and wet within the span of a breath.

He tucked in his wings, leaving the earbud in place as he took a step closer. Bryce leaned slightly against the counter, the marble digging into her overheated spine. But he only took the apple from her fingers. Held her gaze while he bit in, then slowly set the core on the counter.

Her toes curled in her sneakers. “This is even less private than my bedroom.”

Hunt’s hands slid onto her waist, and he hoisted her onto the counter in one easy movement. His lips found her neck, and she arched as his tongue slid up one side, as if licking away a bead of sweat. “Best be quiet, then, Quinlan,” he said against her skin.

Lightning skittered around the room. She didn’t need to look to know he’d severed the camera wires, and likely had a wall of power blocking the door. Didn’t need to do anything other than enjoy the sensation of his tongue on her throat, teasing and tasting.

She couldn’t stop the hands that slid into his hair, driving through the sweaty strands, all the way down his head until they landed on the nape of his neck. She drew him closer as she did so, and Hunt lifted his head from her neck to claim her mouth.