Bring Me Their Hearts(93)

“So? Did you suck the poor man’s soul out of him before or after he was done drooling on you?”

“No one,” Lucien mutters, “is doing any sucking.”

“I know your parental humans never told you this, Lucien,” Malachite drawls. “But it’s all right to be jealous. Perfectly natural, even.”

I laugh, biting my lip when Lucien’s dagger eyes meet mine for a split second. Fione clears her throat.

“If you’re all done being severely adolescent, I’d like to get moving. Malachite, you’ll be leading the way. Stay to the west of the room, and look for a door without a keyhole.”

I squint, the darkness beyond the few torches nearly impenetrable. Malachite sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s why you brought me—not just for my outstanding muscles.”

“Congratulations, you figured it out,” Fione agrees. “Now let’s go.”

She instructs us to make a chain, Lucien holding on to the back of Malachite’s robes, myself holding on to Lucien’s, and Fione holding on to me. We move forward slowly, the gentle red glow from Malachite’s eyes all I can see in the oppressive darkness. The hiss of distant, unseen machines echoes eerily.

“They keep it dark to dissuade intruders,” Lucien whispers softly to me. “The celeon guards see perfectly well in the dark. Gives them a distinct advantage.”

“Cheaters,” I whisper back, and even though it’s dark I swear I see him smile, my heart locket skipping at it. He’s so close I can feel his body heat seeping into me, keeping me warm. For a split second I wish it was only him and me, here, in the dark.

ThE beTTeR tO tEaR hiS heaRt fRoM hiS bEauTifuL chEst, the hunger sneers. For once, it’s right. This darkness is so all-encompassing. If I could just get Lucien alone somehow, I could take his heart as swiftly as a mongoose ends a viper.

As we pass a torch, I faintly see Malachite’s long, sharp ears. If he could hear me snipe in a crowded pub from thirty feet away, he can surely hear anything down here. Especially a blade being drawn on my end. Once again, he ruins everything. If he wasn’t so charming, I might start to hate him for it.

“Hide,” Malachite whispers, Lucien crouching as he does. I quickly bend my knee, the four of us taking shelter behind what feels like a large metal barrel. The sound of someone breathing heavily comes closer, a faint panther-like growl laced in between every breath. Heavy footsteps, a pause, the sound of huge amounts of air being taken in by a large nose. The heart shard in my locket goes cold—it won’t matter if the celeon can’t see us, they have an excellent sense of smell. We’re done for. Surely we’re done for—

“Baudur,” a rough voice calls out, so close it makes me jump. “Did you eat livers again?”

Livers. Can he smell that on me? A second celeon voice echoes from a good distance away.

“They were cooked in goat butter. What do you want from me?”

The first voice near us grunts. “A friend who has better taste in Avellish food.”

The second voice laughs, a half screech and half purr. The heavy footsteps pass us, growing faint. Lucien stands, and I stand with him, following Malachite along the wall.

Malachite hisses softly, “Here. The only door with no keyhole. Be quick about it—the celeon are patrolling clockwise.”

I feel Fione’s hand leave my back, the sound of her fingers fumbling against the wall, and then tiny clicks replacing it. Malachite’s red glowing eyes dart around, the only thing I can see in the dark.

“Do you need light to solve that puzzle-lock?” Lucien murmurs.

“No,” Fione answers. “It’s a touch-sensitive one—bumps instead of numerals. Uncle wouldn’t compromise the dark security down here just for his comfort.”

“Can the celeon not see the light from your eyes?” I ask Malachite. He chuckles.

“I’m closing them most of the time.”

“And you keep walking?”

“I can tell where I’m going without seeing. This is home for me,” he insists. “The darkness, the stone. It’s where we thrive.”

“I guess that’s why they call you Beneathers,” I muse. He chuckles again.

“Bene-Thar.”

“What?”

“Our word for our people, the Bene-Thar. It means ‘the ones with blood-eyes.’”

“But, we call you Beneathers—”

“Because when humans and Bene-Thar first met, that’s what they thought we were saying when they asked what we were,” Malachite scoffs. “Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“And you never bothered to correct them?”

“Oh, we tried,” he assures me. “But it’d spread too far by then. The name has its uses; if an outsider says it the upworld way, foe. If they say it like we do, friend—Fione, not to rush you or anything, but you really have to hurry.”

“There!” She quietly celebrates the sound of something heavy opening. Cold air rushes out to meet us, and we press into the enveloping chill. It’s slightly less dark in here, in that I’m finally able to see my own hands in front of my face. The thud of the door closing behind us makes me jump.

“There may be booby traps,” Fione says clearly, holding up a copper-and-crystal tube and clicking another nutcracker-like tool from her belt over it. Light flickers on the end of the tube, illuminating the crystal on the end with pure white brilliance. It reveals a long, mossy tunnel. “Malachite, you go first.”