Page 158 of Heir of Illusion

The quiet of the Lowers is eerie and unnatural. At least half of the streetlamps are out since the city doesn’t bother refilling the oil that fuels their flames. That kind of privilege is reserved for the wealthier districts, leaving Dockside to rely on moonlight to chase away the darkness.

As we round the corner, stepping onto the street where the gray house waits for us, an icy chill runs down the back of my neck. It turns my blood cold even as the collar flares with warmth. The hairs on my arms stand on end, telling me we’re being watched.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Della whispers behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find her gaze locked on one of the nearby houses. The windows are boarded up, but between the gaps in the wood several pairs of eyes watch us without blinking.

“They’re over here too,” Fia says, pulling our attention to a house on the other side of the street.

Dread curdles in my stomach as I scan the surrounding homes, finding the same situation at each one. There must be dozens of people watching us. “They’re everywhere.”

“What’s the plan here?” Fia asks as she aims her crossbow at one of the windows, her finger resting against the trigger.

“We don’t engage unless we have to,” Thorne orders from beside me as a muscle flexes in his jaw. “We stick together and keep moving. As long as they stay inside, they aren’t our problem.”

His gaze finds mine, holding it for a moment before we’re forced to continue on our path. We push onward, but the sound of scraping metal has me glancing over my shoulder. Darrow unsheathes a thin rapier, its gold handle encrusted with emeralds the size of my eyeballs. His blond curls are held back by a ribbon and his white long-sleeve shirt is untucked. I can’t help but notice that he’s leaning into the pirate theme lately. Shaking my head, I shift my attention forward again.

Only twenty yards stand between us and our destination when Griffen’s voice breaks the silence. “Looks like they just became our problem, boss.”

My forehead wrinkles as I turn to ask what he means, only to be halted by the sight of dozens of people filing out of the nearby houses. They flood the streets from every angle, boxing us in from the sides and at our backs, leaving only a ten-foot-wide trail leading to the grey house.

“It’s like a parade,” Darrow murmurs before grunting as Della elbows him in the ribs.

“Shut up,” she whispers.

Thorne edges closer to me as he takes in the situation. If I didn’t already know things were bad, the sight of fear clouding his eyes would leave me with no doubts about our current state. My fingers curl tightly around the cool metal of the blades I hold in each hand.

“Stay in formation,” Thorne orders, the side of his arm pressing into mine. “We’re almost there.”

Fear pierces my chest as I take in the sheer number of Forsaken surrounding us. Every instinct in my body is on high alert as I realize we’re animals caught in a trap.

“We’ve got movement,” Fia calls from behind us.

Apparently, we aren’t walking fast enough for them because the ones at our backs have begun edging closer.

“They’re herding us,” I whisper as claustrophobia traps the air in my lungs and tightens my bruised trachea. Old fears surface, making me feel as though imaginary walls are closing in around us. The taste of dirt fills my mouth. In my mind, I’m choking once more as I claw out of my own grave.

“Stay with me, Angel.” Thorne’s voice pulls me back to the present. “I need you to hold on.”

I swallow, nodding as I meet his worried gaze. He holds my stare for a few seconds before dropping it. With the enemy closing in at our backs, we’re forced to increase our pace. Our feet hasten over the jagged cobblestone. Della nearly trips on an uneven area, but Darrow’s quick hand reaches out to steady her. I keep my gaze on the Forsaken, hating how familiar some of their faces are. I recognize several of them from my time at the pub, but now their eyes burn with hatred as their lips twist into cruel, taunting smiles.

“Watch them,” Thorne commands. “If any Forsaken makes a move, you put them down. No hesitation.”

I steel myself, pushing aside whatever pity I may harbor for these poor souls. Mercy has no place here tonight. There’s no one to avenge, no one to save. Tonight is about one thing.

Death.

In this moment, I desperately wish I could summon an illusion to help me slip through this crowd of enemies. I’ve been stripped bare of my most valuable weapon. All I have now are the blades strapped to my body.

And years’ worth of muscle memory and fighting instincts,I remind myself.

Sure, I’ve never taken on this many enemies at once, but I’ve also never had a group of allies at my side either. I may be without my illusions, but I’m not alone.

As one, the Forsaken shift their attention away from us, their heads snapping in unison toward the gray house. It’s almost as if they share some sort of hive mind… But Taron, the one from the alley, was different. He was cruel and violent, but he disobeyed the orders he’d been given when I taunted him. So, while they’ve all been warped and twisted by thealmanova, perhaps some of them are able to hold on to a small measure of their own will.

Those thoughts fall away as a dark silhouette passes over the threshold of the gray house, stepping onto the porch. The sword is nowhere to be seen as Grell Darby scans the crowd before him, yet the pulsing heat at my neck tells me it’s close. The former guard looks slightly worse for wear tonight. He’s lost weight, making him appear gaunt as his skin seems to sag off his bones. I suppose being controlled by thealmanovafor several weeks would be bad for anyone’s health.

“Thank you for delivering thewraithto us,” he says, his deep voice easily carrying over the quiet street. “You’ve saved us the trouble of collecting her ourselves. Send her forward, and we’ll allow the rest of you to leave in peace.”

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