Page 89 of Of Blood and Smoke

“You will wait for your father to get home and take him with you,” she announced, rifling through one of the shelves that lined the wall beside her.

The shelf contained books and other curiosities such as the skeleton of a bird I’d painstakingly reassembled as a small child—after I’d eaten its flesh and organs. I met her gaze as she lightly trailed a finger over the fragile bones and then smirked at her. I’d been soundly lectured on civilized behavior after an incident involving the small creature. She’d instructed me to reanimate it. I did, feeding it my blood, and kept the sparrow as a pet and familiar for many years, until its life force ceased.

Finally locating what I was looking for, I gathered the heap of clothing from the box and exited the space. “Time is of the essence and Micha will be there. He already is, I believe.”

“These need freshening up,” my mother announced, straightening out the leathers she grabbed from me. “War garments? Really?” She glanced up.

“Yes. This is war. They took something that belongs to me.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed, this is folly.” She placed a hand on my shoulder as I picked up the pants she’d tossed to the bed. “Why haven’t you cleaned these? They stink. All I can smell is rotting flesh.”

My mother snatched the pants from me again and threw them on the floor before she waved her hands over them. The air wavered and a glittering, ethereal mist descended on my garment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to be covered in entrails, I’m not going to a party.” Leaning over I picked them back up off the floor, wrinkling my nose at the floral scent now emanating from the garb.

My mother had the grace to look sheepish. “It was bad.”

“Lily of the valley is not terror-inducing, I hate to tell you.”

“What the fuck is that stench? Ruth!” Footsteps pounded up the staircase before my father walked in.

“Your son was going on a rescue mission in dirty clothes.”

Traitor.

“Not on my watch,” my father ordered, crossing the room and patting me on the back.

Clearly, stopping at home was an awful idea.

My father was a formidable man, taller than me and a massive wall of solid muscle outfitted in the finest suits and footwear. Intricate tattoos covered nearly every inch of his skin, climbing up his neck and winding around to the back of his head, telling a detailed story of his victories on the many battlegrounds of the Second Realm.

My own flesh contained no ink, my existence being a novelty and my having lived primarily in the service of the inner courts. The battles I’d fought took place on palace grounds, either in the gardens, on the streets, or in the throne room. They were short-lived but gloriously bloody and gory fights, not the epic drawn-out scenes my father was used to.

“You know what you are up against, son. If you falter, there is nothing I can do for you,” my father informed me. “Have you considered training in higher magic and sorcery?”

“I’m aware.” I began stripping off my suit, handing my jacket to my mother and then loosening my tie. “I’ll be downstairs in a minute,” I said, dismissing them both, and the needling question.

My parents exchanged a look and exited the room. With a thought and a flick, I shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed.

There was no way to know exactly what Della was going through this very moment, but I knew they wouldn’t do much of anything to her until I arrived. This knowledge gave me roomto try and formulate a plan beyond entering the compound and tearing everyone’s head from their neck.

Ezra wanted me to be mated with another magical creature, and that just wasn’t going to happen. There was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise, unless Della was unknowingly a witch or other powerful creature. I’d tasted her blood and drank her essence enough times to know she was devoid of magic.

Cellphone and internet usage was spotty in realms other than the Third, despite having unique frameworks set up for the atmospheric differences. With all the magic and other elemental factors the realms contained, it was a downfall and inconvenient.

Nevertheless, I tugged my phone from my pocket and texted Micha, asking him to invite Kiam and Nicolas. I was fairly positive I could handle Ezra on my own but with the collective of five joined together, I wasn’t as confident. It was unknown how many of them remained in the palace.

I finished getting changed and laced up my boots, wrinkling my nose at the pungent smell of the lily of the valley flowers my mother had infused my leathers with. The stench of rotting meat had dissipated, camouflaged by a floral scent. Moving to my dresser, I picked up an elastic and shoved my hair into a low ponytail before leaving the room.

“Ah, much better,” my mother said. “No child of mine should ever reek of refuse.”

“You are aware, are you not, that I am about to alter the fabric of our society?” I said.

My mother’s carefree attitude was beginning to grate on me.

“Don’t get smart with your mother,” my father snapped at me.

I took a deep breath. I had to remember that life here in the Second was much different than what I’d become used to.Standards were higher, and life was more defined by exacting roles. I hadn’t realized I’d become erringly casual.

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