Page 125 of Realm of Nightmares
“As you can see,” Alastar said, his voice now hushed and foreboding. He tapped his wooden wand against all four sides of the box, making an elaborate show of his performance. He was quite the entertainer. “No traps. No hidden doors. No way out.”
Tiernan bit back a smirk.
No way out, except the back wall of the wardrobe was a fake. It was deeper than it appeared on stage, thus giving it the benefit of illusion. Someone would knock softly while Alastar was enrapturing the audience with his excessive manners and credulous ways. The latch would unhinge, then he and Merrick would step into the true back of the wardrobe. It was all a rather simple display, and after the birds and roses trick, Tiernan had expected more.
“My lords, if you would be so kind as to step into the wardrobe.” Alastar opened the door wide.
Tiernan climbed inside, Merrick right behind him. He turned around and could only catch a glimpse of the rage boiling off Lir before the door closed soundly, locking them inside.
“This is a trick, right?” Merrick whispered, his voice painfully tense in the darkness.
“Of course.” Tiernan glanced over, but only the silhouette of his hunter was visible. “Is something wrong?”
“Nope.” Merrick stiffened. “Just don’t care for small spaces.”
Shit.
Tiernan had completely forgotten that Merrick’s one fear, the one thing that left him damn near terrified, was being trapped in a small space for any great length of time.
“Don’t worry.” He reassured his friend. “Any moment now, there will be a light tap on the door behind us. Then they’ll probably have us go beneath the stage or behind a curtain or something.”
“Lir is going to lose his shit.”
“Not unless you do first,” Tiernan countered, smothering a laugh.
“Fuck off, Your Grace.”
Two light knocks sounded on the wall behind them, and Tiernan grinned, even though Merrick couldn’t see it. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
Outside the wardrobe, Alastar was carrying on about the ways of magic and disappearing tricks, when the trick door opened to reveal Vella, one of the assistants.
“Shit,” Merrick muttered.
Shit, indeed.
Up close, it was easy to see something was terribly wrong with this fae. Her eyes were glassy, like she’d had too much to drink, and she didn’t look at Tiernan. Or Merrick, for that matter. Instead, she lookedpastthem.
Her dark hair was braided back from her face, meant to disguise the two curling horns on the top of her head. She swayed on her feet, lifeless, yet standing right in front of them. Tiernan half expected her to fall over at any moment. No wonder she stretched and played on a hoop like she had no bones. She was either fully enchanted or definitely intoxicated. Given the way her eyes remained out of focus, Tiernan was willing to bet it was the former.
He needed this show to be over. Fast.
Vella held out two silver ribbons, one for each of them.
“Take,” she whispered, offering them.
“Uh…” Merrick glanced over at Tiernan. “Your call, my lord.”
“Take,” she said again, staring beyond them.
“I suppose we take them, if it’s part of the show.” Tiernan reached out to accept the ribbon, but it was heavier than he expected. And there was something vaguely familiar about the way it smelled.
The moment he touched the soft fabric, every light in the tent was snuffed out.
Suddenly, it felt like his entire body was being crushed, yanked, and twisted. As though he wasfading,but not of his own accord. Ice so cold it burned like fire wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Agony suffocated him as he tried to fight whatever invisible force had attacked him. But the pain was too severe, clawing at him from all sides, lancing into his thoughts, muddling his mind.
His head snapped back, his chest seized, every muscle convulsed against the onslaught. His blood heated, his magic raged. Darkness engulfed him, stole into him, rendering him useless. Whatever kind of magic had been used against him, it was stronger than anything he could summon. More powerful. It rendered him weak. Left him exhausted. A numbness spread through him, spearing him to his knees. Through it all, a shred of recollection poked at the back of his mind.
The silver ribbon.The grossly metallic smell. Thepain.
