Reign of Shadows (Reign of Shadows, #1)(60)

Panting, I held still for a moment, fighting for breath.

My heart pounded as I took a moment to assess for injuries and to regain my breath. All of me hurt, but I could still move. I had to move. I tested my limbs, turning and stretching to my full height, my spine flat against the tree.

The smell of my own blood reached my nose, and I lifted a shaking hand to my face. I flexed my fingers. Slick blood coated my palms, the coppery scent filling my nose.

I could hear Anselm crashing above me. A fresh dose of panic washed through me.

Move, move, move!

I started down again, ignoring the pain. I tried not to think about the dwellers below. I’d take my chances with them over Anselm.

“Come back here before you fall, girl!”

I whimpered at the sound of his voice. He was directly above me. Close. I moved faster, anxiety pushing me. I had to be close to the ground. I had to be. My legs and arms moved quickly, one over the other, taking me down the tree.

My speed cost me. My hand slipped from a branch. My hand flailed wildly, seizing only air.

Crying out, I plunged, banging my way down. My knee collided with a branch and I shouted, tumbling in a whirl of flailing limbs and spinning leaves.

I hit earth. Flat on my back, I didn’t move for a moment. Didn’t breathe. Pain greeted my body in sharp needles, poking and stabbing me everywhere.

I groaned and rolled to my side, gasping into the dirt, leaves crunching under me.

Sounds above jerked me to life. He was still coming. I sucked in air, letting it fill and lift me up. With that breath swirling through my nose, the familiar musky aroma of dwellers assailed me.

I turned, inhaling, marking their scent. They were thicker to my right. The slight snuffling sounds they made were there, their wet breaths huffing on the breeze, growing closer.

It was enough to force me to my feet. I staggered, fighting past the throbbing in my knee and overall aches, weaving through the trees, extending my hands, palms out, brushing shrubs and rough bark, feeling my way as I ran.

He was on the ground now, too. “Stupid girl! Get back here!” his angry shout rang out. I could feel them out there, dwellers hunting me, too.

I pushed my legs harder, dodging where I smelled or heard dwellers, but there were so many—like the first day I arrived with Fowler.

“They’re going to get you! Is that what you want, girl?”

Gradually, it grew quieter. I felt their sudden absence. The lack of their loamy musk on the air.

They were gone.

I paused, my chest aching, hard breaths sawing from my lips.

I lifted my face to air that felt thinner, not as dense as the night. It was midlight.

I flew into motion. They might be gone, but he wasn’t.

Anselm was still after me, coming faster now, hunting me harder now that it was midlight and the dwellers were gone. It was just the two of us.





TWENTY-SIX


Fowler


I HOPPED DOWN from the wagon and moved ahead of the group, eager to rest my eyes on Luna again and assure myself she was well. I ignored the parts of me that felt chewed up by a meat grinder. A little salve on my wounds, a night’s rest, and I’d be fine and ready to go. My ankle was still tender from where that creature had nearly snapped the bone before I managed to saw through the tentacle and free myself.

The sooner we left this place behind the better. I would not be going out on the lake again. I’d take what kelp I had earned, and put this place behind me.

My gaze scanned the mist-shrouded ground. The forest stirred, everything coming to life while the dwellers were at rest. My gaze drifted up to the city in the trees. I waited impatiently as the lift descended for us, shifting on my feet. Leaving Luna this long ate at me. I would never do it again.

I was the first to hop inside the lift. Glagos stepped on with me, waving away the boy who had stood with us on the boat for the last twenty-four hours, tossing down remarks that were of little help as I hacked at kelp and fought off all manner of creatures hungry for a taste of me.

I had almost died out there. Glagos knew that. His cold stare made that much clear. He just didn’t care.

“How many die out there?” I asked mildly.

He shrugged. “You made it and gathered a nice amount of kelp in the process. We could use you here.”

“I’m sure you could.” My lips curled. He’d happily let me continue risking my neck for them. “I did what you asked. I’m taking my supplies and leaving.”

He waved a hand, cutting through the milky air. “You might want to reconsider. Alone out there . . . is it so much better than staying here?”

With Luna it was impossible to stay here. I shook my head.

He shrugged. “Fine. There are others to take your place. Drifters come through here all the time.” And I was sure many stayed here, buried at the bottom of that lake, bones picked clean.

The lift stopped at the top with a jar, the chains jangling and clinking. I stepped out onto the landing. My clothes stuck to my wounds, the dried and crusted blood tugging on the torn flesh with every movement. Peeling the clothes from my body was going to be unpleasant.

I spotted Mirelya standing among the small crowd that had assembled to greet all those returning from the boats.

She started toward me, her cane ringing out with each strike on the wood. Her gaze darted down once, almost guiltily, before meeting my eyes. Her color was poor, too. Something was wrong. I knew it with one sweep of my gaze.