Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(55)

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He shrugged. “No need to thank me—I didn’t say anything you didn’t already say yourself.”

“Maybe not, but you made it sound way better than I could have.”

He smiled. “Maybe I should take up poetry.”

I had already thanked him, but it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t know what else to say, though, so I let the gratitude stay inside me, swell up in my chest. Maybe I’d find the words to better express it later.

Navan finally turned away, nodding his head toward the opposite end of the street, and set me with a serious look. “We should get going. We’ve got a lot to do before tonight.”





Chapter Eighteen





Once darkness had fallen, we left the hotel room via the window, Navan stretching his wings and flying us to the event site. We risked flying this time, because our destination was not far, and if our pursuer was related to the Fed, we would be forcing their hand very soon anyway.

We had scoped the site out after visiting Jean and Roger, and finalized logistics. Now all that remained was action.

Reaching the park, the music and smoke drifted up from the throbbing crowds, and we stuck to the treetops. We had changed back into our dark, plain clothes, which helped us avoid notice until the time was right. After trailing above a line of trees, Navan made sure the coast was clear and then dropped down through the treetops, setting me down on the grass.

His eyes were wide and alert as he glanced toward the stage, and then back at me. “Okay,” he said quietly. “You know what to do?”

I nodded, gulping. He turned to leave, but before he could fly away again, I grasped his hand. “Be careful,” I whispered.

“I will,” he said, giving me a meaningful look. “You too.”

With that, I moved away from the trees, and looked discreetly at the sky where Navan was flying, like a shadow among the treetops, making his way toward the back of the stage. The crowd erupted in whoops and clapping as a female performer strolled onto the stage and began singing. A long fabric screen hung behind her and her band, from ceiling to floor, which was being used as a projector. That would be Navan’s first stop.

He had now flown level with the back of the stage, and I watched him quickly cross the distance between it and himself, so fast I would have missed him if I’d blinked. He flew out of view, and I could only assume that he was now beginning to figure out how to infiltrate the back stage. We had managed to buy him a backstage pass earlier, but that didn’t mean getting access to the projector was going to be easy.

I moved closer to the crowd, pulling my hood up to cast a shadow over my face. As the first song ended, and the second one began, I kept my eyes glued on the projector screen. I dug my fingernails into my palms for the duration of two more songs, and just as I was beginning to worry that Navan had run into trouble, he made his appearance.

His imposing silhouette became visible through the projector screen, his large wings stretched out, and there was a collective sound of appreciation from the crowd, thinking this was part of the special effects.

That became harder to believe when suddenly, he launched forward, directly into the fabric, ripping the entire screen from its hinges. It collapsed on top of him, folding around him as his wings beat underneath and he took to the air. There was a ripping sound, and then the bulk of the fabric fell from the sky, drifting down onto the crowd, while Navan kept just enough covering him to avoid people glimpsing his body. All anyone could make out clearly now were the ends of his black wings—and that would be enough of a distinguishing feature for the Fed.

People gaped upward, though it was clear the majority still believed this to be a feature of the show, or maybe even a prank.

That all changed when Navan, spotting me in the crowd, dove down at breakneck speed and grabbed me, plucking me up into the air.

I flailed and shrieked, making a show of being petrified, while Navan was ultra-careful to keep my face mostly obscured from the crowd beneath us. He kept me facing him, covering me partially with the same fabric he was using as a cover for himself. If anyone managed to get a snap of me…well, that would be kind of counterproductive to the special visit we had made to Jean and Roger earlier today.

My acting must have been convincing because people started to scream and call for help.

“How much longer do you think we need to do this?” I gasped.

“Not too much longer,” he replied, as he continued to whoosh me about in the sky. “But we want to make sure we leave an impression.”

Navan did another loop in the sky, which left my head spinning. Even after all the experience I’d had so far with being carried by him hundreds of feet in the air, it was incredibly unnerving to have my feet dangling like this, but I trusted his strong grip around my waist, and I continued playing the part of distressed damsel.

When we’d first come up with this final plan of action, I’d been half afraid that the humans beneath us would start trying to shoot at Navan—but thankfully, nobody was that stupid. Leaving aside the fact that Navan was flying too fast for any human to take accurate aim, they were also more likely to shoot me than Navan.

“Okay,” Navan said, after another few moments had passed. “That’s enough. Now we need to get out of here and find somewhere to wait—”

Before Navan could finish his sentence, a heavy weight slammed into us—so sudden and unexpected, Navan’s grip loosened on me and I almost fell from the sky. I screamed, and this time, it was for real.