Cameras give way to the idea that perhaps Daemon was watching this fight go down and controlling water that way. Is it possible? Do his powers run on sight? Can he control any water at any time? Or what if he summoned some kind of elemental he can coincidentally see through?
Stupid magic, I mentally mutter. It has so many rules, but there are so many loopholes the fae like to exploit.
Our ears perk up as we overhear, “They found Mount Rook’s symbol over there.”
“Over where?” Mikey calls out, dismissing our Rage.
The Bleeder that spoke seems startled as we stride in her direction. She points. “Down the hall and to the left. It’s on a window.”
Mikey sprints forward, and I’m on her heel.
“What will seeing it accomplish?” I ask as she comes to a halt.
A large pane of frosted glass overlooking a terrarium greets us, the undeniable scent of rot seeping through the glass doors to our right. The logo is clear as day, revealing the creatures inside. Tiny dragons, dogs with elongated features, cats with horns and wings… and the thought of hybrids returns to me. What if this is where they’re creating them?
Mikey reaches up and touches the logo, caressing it like she had at the Trench. When nothing happens, she tries again, and even pushes on the pane, earning strange looks from the creatures inside.
“I was hoping it’d be another entrance,” she mutters, placing her forehead against it. “But I guess my luck only goes so far.”
I grab hold of the glass doors and tug. When they don’t budge, I kick myself for not thinking they’re be locked, and Rage. I slam my oversized fist into the glass, expecting it to shatter, but it simply wobbles. I try again, but still nothing. The creatures rush into hiding, startled by the sounds.
When Mikey asks what I’m trying to do, I do my best to hold in a snarky response. “It won’t break.”
“Calm down, Hulk, and let me try.”
I drop my Rage as she transforms her pinkie finger, and slips it into the lock. When nothing happens, she removes it and frowns. “Must be magically locked or something.”
“Why, because you can’t pick a lock with just your finger?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “No, because I can’t feel any tumblers inside.” She huffs, leaning over to get a closer look at the lock, and giving me a better view of… other things. “This is why people like playing spellcasters in games over melee. Because magic sucks for us.”
I cross my arms and drag my attention back over to the Mount Rook logo. Below it are three others: a woman with scales poised under a cloud and between two lightning bolts, a cat’s eye surrounded by scales, and a flower with insanely long petals.
“You think those are other branches of Mount Rook?” I ask dumbly, peeling my brain from other thoughts.
Mikey nods, a slight playful glare coming from her. “I have no doubt.” She huffs, pausing as her mind shifts.
“Don’t even think about it,” I mutter under my breath as the creatures start reappearing from behind the glass, watching us curiously.
I expect “Don’t think about what?” in retaliation, but instead I get, “I can’t help it. You saw the carnage Daemon’s doppelganger and your mom left behind.” She fights off a flinch as she hits a sore spot in my heart. “What if Reba and Kyler are next?”
“Mikey, I—”
She grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look straight at her. “Do you trust me?”
I bite my tongue.
“Do you?”
I exhale. “More than I’d like to admit.”
She chews on her cheek, fighting an ill-timed joke. “Then you know I’ll never turn against you.”
My previously lacerated back says otherwise, I quip.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll wind up a Mindless puppet.”
“Don’t jinx it,” she says with a smack to my shoulder. “Death and life is in the tongue. It’s in the Bible, look it up.”
“When did you start reading the Bible?” I ask before I can redirect my thoughts back to the reason this conversation started.
“Shortly after we met.”
“You said you wouldn’t leave me like five minutes ago.”
“And I won’t. I’ll always be right here.” She places a hand over my heart, and I grab her wrist.
“That’s what people say about the dead.”
She makes a face. “Well technically, we aren’t fully alive, since—”
“Stop. I’m not having this argument again.”
Mikey rights herself. “It doesn’t have to be an argument. If you’d just listen and put into perspective—”
“Look, I get it. You’re used to doing whatever you want because you think no one cares if you disappear. You understand people rely on you, and some, like your siblings, can’t live without you. Other than that, you don’t think you’re worth anything to anyone.” It’s then I realize my rising voice, but her red face and shocked expression tell me I've hit the nail on the head. “You’re so willing to throw your life away because you can’t fathom the notion that anyone could remotely care about you or even think about you unless you’re standing in front of them.” My breath rips from my chest. “When will you wake up and realize there are people who will follow you to the ends of the earth?”
Her mouth opens but she can’t find words.
I let out a strangled laugh. “You know what? If you want to go, go. I won’t stop you. God knows I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
My feet are lead as I take a step away, and the air feels like molasses. The last thing I want to do is tear away, to leave her to her own devices, but if she has a lesson she needs to learn from this, who am I to interrupt.
A frustrated groan escapes her throat and she grabs me by the collar of my shirt and kisses me with so much force, I swear those new fangs of hers will pierce through both our lips. She pulls away, my shirt bunched in her fist. More resolve than I’ve ever seen her muster shakes in the air around her.
“If that’s how you feel, then you’d better keep up,” she says, her voice husky and barely above a whisper. “To the ends of the earth we go.”