Page 116 of Gemini Hunted
For this moment, the three of us stand together.
Racetrack bursts into the belfry at a dead run, wiry legs churning under her plaid uniform skirt, worn leather jacket slung over one shoulder. Under the careless thatch of her short blond hair, her gray eyes burn with urgency.
“They’re here,” she announces. “Zara and the guys. And they got trouble. C’mon, we gotta motor.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zara
“Looks like trouble,” Draco Mars says shortly.“Fokk.”
“Tell me about it.” I bunch together with my guys—Lucius on one side, Neo on the other—and peer into the spooky, cobwebby hole that yawns in the tunnel floor.
The echoing coil of the catacombs lurks behind us, twisting like intestines in a human gut. We navigated that shit with our flashlights, our shifty noses, and Mal’s location spell leading us through the labyrinth like the thread in that Greek myth about Theseus and the Minotaur.
But these catacombs are vast, and winding our way through them took longer than I liked.
Way longer.
Last time we checked, the hands on Mal’s wristwatch were both pointing straight up.
Midnight.
The witching hour.
Thanks to the handy stash of granola bars and bottled water in Mallory’s well-stocked hall monitor backpack, we’re still functional. But this whole time, I really haven’t liked the idea of a zombie werewolf sealed in a sarcophagus back there, a werewolf whose whole presence on the island we still can’t explain, maybe rising and pushing the heavy stone lid aside—
“Yeesh.” Picking up the gruesome thought I must be broadcasting on all frequencies, Neo cuddles the kitten against his chest and tightens his arm around my waist. “We’re gonna lay that poor werewolf properly to rest, babe, like with holy water and an actual priest. We just need to ace our finals first.”
Not only pass them. But ace them.
That’s so Neo.
“We will, First Boy.” I nuzzle his warm cheek, all raspy with stubble. Then I stroke the kitten’s sleek white head—we gotta name her, but we’ve been a little busy—and drop a kiss between her tiny tufted ears for luck.
The kitten blinks up at me with earnest green eyes. Very much like Neo’s.
Finally, I entrust our new pet to our bookworm’s gentle hands and step forward with a sigh. “Gimme that flashlight, will you, Lucius?”
My headmaster passes it over without comment. With all our beams converging on that hole like a police spotlight, his sherry-gold eyes are fixed there too with a pensive look I have no problem deciphering. This tunnel led us straight to it, like this is where we’re meant to go. And there’s a solid wall behind it, so we aren’t going any farther.
But there’s a narrow staircase beside us (also very dark and cobwebby) burrowed into the wall leading up.
Zephyr is already standing with one boot on the bottom stair, leaning into the pitch-black passage in a way that makes me uneasy.
He hasn’t said a word since Mordred double-dicked me. Since I fucked his second cousin (once removed) without asking. My guys and I have an understanding that I can grow the harem, because that’s a queen thing, and it’s good for the witching world when I do. Still, Zephyr could have objectedto me fucking his cousin—I wasn’t hiding it, and I would’ve listened—but he didn’t.
However, it’s the historical scheming-to-usurp-Zephyr’s-throne baggage, and not the tenuous blood tie between them, that’s the real issue.
Zephyr hasn’t spoken to V since the fuckfest either. Now I’m really hoping our medically necessary but mind-blowing threesome with the demon hasn’t totally shattered the fragile new alliance between the Dark Fae King and the Goblin King.
“Xhevith,”Zephyr breathes, in a voice deep with longing. “By the moon, my dragon is near. I can sense him. Surely this means Ash and Ronin and Maxim are also near, where I bade them to be.”
“Well, the library’s that way for sure.” Mallory frowns dubiously at the stairs. “I can, you know, feel my sweater up there. And yeah, it’s really close. But I think the Vault might be…”
“Down here,” I agree with a sigh, hunkering down beside the shaft. “I think so too.”
Mallory’s feeling the pull of her personal item, but I’m feeling the pull of the Vault. Ever since Mordred and V and I hooked up, I’ve sensed the Horn of Ceres in that messenger bag brooding like a sentient presence, its power humming in my blood like a beehive.
