The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(61)

Someone—or something—is making him uncomfortable. It would be foolish for me to press the matter out in the open. “Why isn’t it easy for you to be here?” I ask, my words equally lighthearted, my senses alert.

He drops his voice to below a whisper, his smile easygoing. “The last three times I traveled to Rajasthan, I was stalked less than an hour after passing through the mirror. It will be only a matter of time before they try to stop me.”

“They?” I step closer.

He waves his right hand as if bored. Then takes a final swallow of his drink, crushing the paper cone in his fist. “Not a moment to waste, then.” With a clap of both hands, he begins strolling at a rapid pace in the opposite direction.

I follow him, my gait uneasy. “Are we running away?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Is that in conflict with your Saint Germain sensibilities?” He grins.

“If someone here has been threatening you, I wish to put an end to it.”

His strides lengthen. “I don’t like to engage with these jackanapeses, if I can avoid it. Fey circles are small, especially in the Vale. You never know when you might be fighting someone in your own family. And with my family, you’d then be accused of striking a member of the gentry. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” His pace quickens as he cuts through a small square with a well in its center, a queue wrapping around it, each person waiting a turn to refill a pitcher or a drum or a skein of waxed fabric. To my right, I catch a glimpse of a figure in a hooded grey cloak.

We continue moving at a brisk pace for several more blocks until we reach a section of town less traversed. Behind stacked stone walls lie larger, more intricate structures several stories high. Signs of wealth are evident in the manicured gardens and the decorated walls with their carved bricks and imposing scrollwork.

Arjun’s steps falter as we round a bend alongside an embellished fountain, a wrought-iron gate wrapped around it.

“Impressive,” I say.

Arjun mutters, “It’s not being guarded. The gate is wide-open.”

“Does that present a problem?”

“It’s usually guarded.” He glides closer. In the same instant, blurs of motion gather along either side of us. “Can you believe this fountain is actually powered by the flow of the nearby river?” he remarks.

I arch a brow. “Fascinating.” The fine hairs on my arms stand on end, the muscles working in my jaw.

We are being followed. Surrounded. Cornered.

“It is, isn’t it?” Arjun grins in a lighthearted fashion, then flicks his gaze toward the fountain with unmistakable intent.

I blink. Does he expect us to—

“Now!” Arjun breaks into a run, aiming straight for the open gate, toward the center of the fountain. Around me, hooded shapes converge. I blur toward the water, balking for an instant when I see Arjun dive beneath its surface without the slightest hesitation. Since I have no idea what might happen if I linger, I take a deep breath on instinct and jump in headfirst.

The water is warm. As warm as the air around us. It’s the first time since I’ve become a vampire that I’ve had a chance to swim. My lungs are tight, clinging to the vestiges of their humanity, but I no longer need air. I open my eyes and realize the fountain is much deeper than it appeared at first glance. Perhaps twenty feet. Arjun is halfway down, swimming like a shark toward the bottom. I follow, marveling at how well my instincts adjust to an airless environment. I claw toward Arjun, who waits for me before reaching his right hand toward the silty floor. The second he does, the sand seems to draw him in. He does not appear the least bit bothered, so I reach for the silt with my own fingers.

The second they touch the sand, my fétiche begins to slide off my finger. I ball my hand into a fist, panic gripping through to my spine. It’s broad daylight outside. Even with the deep water, the rays of sun manage to filter through unimpeded. If my ring is taken from me, there is no chance for me to find shelter before being set aflame.

Both my mother and father burned in the light of the sun, my father as payment for his sins, my mother because she believed there was no other choice. When she met the sun, my uncle did not let me watch. He pulled me to him, refusing to let go, though I screamed into his waistcoat, demanding to be set free.

I have no desire to die as my parents did.

The quicksand pulls me through to my shoulder. On instinct, I resist when it closes around my chest and throat. But I watch Arjun let the sand take him, swallowing him whole. A flare of doubt catches in my throat. What if he’s been leading me to my inevitable demise all along? What if I follow him and my fétiche is ripped from my hand entirely, my death a veritable certainty once I fall to the other side?

What will I find on this other side?

I close my eyes and let the magic take hold. Darkness surrounds me the second the quicksand surrounds my face. It’s like being drawn into an endless void.

The next instant I spill into a patch of sunlight brighter than any I’ve ever witnessed before. I’m blinded for the span of a breath, my arm coming up to shield my face.

We land on a glittering shore, waves lapping at our feet. I take a deep breath of the strange air. It smells warm and thick. Like hot tea mixed with molasses and anise. My wet hands rake through packed sand. When I stand, my skin shines as if it’s been brushed with diamond dust.