Page 15 of Entangled (Haven Realm Chronicles 5)

So tonight I had to visit the local club, Brawl, where Gage worked as a bouncer, so I’d ask him about a dragon-tooth dagger while I was there to speak with Dustin. I chewed on my lower lip. It had been months since I’d seen him, and each time I did, my emotions ran amuck. Guess that came from breaking up with a man whom I adored, but I’d rather risk a broken heart than the gargoyle breaking him.

A few months ago, a drunk had stumbled into the ruins and the gargoyle had killed him. Reality crippled me. If I hadn’t been careful, that could have been Gage. He’d kept insisting on taking me home, and I’d used every excuse under the sun to keep him away. This was why I had to break up with him. For his own safety.

My breath hitched all the way to my lungs. Reed was somewhere out there. Was he still alive? I had to check to make sure he wasn’t lying there dead or wounded.

I returned to the book and at the bottom of the page, a section about only powerful witches controlling a gargoyle ended mid-sentence because the next page that had been torn out.Damn.But I’d read enough to know what I wanted.

Most ancient spell books had vanished at the time of the old war between the realms, and none were available for sale. So it was a surprise I’d heard about this text from a client, even if was tattered and torn.

I smiled and bounced on my toes. “Today will be a good day. I feel it in my bones.”

* * *

The stifling nightair closed in around me as I dashed through the woods, puffing as I’d run here from the tower.

“Reed, can you hear me?” I gripped a lantern and my eyes scanned the dark undergrowth for him. I could have sworn this was exactly where the gargoyle had dumped him. Around me was debris, ferns growing to my knees, and a few boulders, but no sign of a body. I kept searching, not ready to leave just in case he remained hurt, or worse yet, dead. What if another predator had made a meal of him? Even if it were a wild cougar or panther, such an attack would leave behind a clue, right? Blood or bones.

Sweat drenched my skin, and my heart throbbed as I pictured Reed torn up and dead somewhere in the woods. My fingers curled into fists. I scanned the scrubland, the shadows between trees.

“Reed!” I yelled. “If you’re here, say something. Please.” I jumped over an oversized dead branch just as an owl hooted overhead. I flinched and plastered my back against a tree. Tonight the forest seemed darker than usual, as if a black mass collected above on the branches. Or it could have been me, feeling alone and vulnerable.

Cougars attack from behind. We won’t see it coming. Leave now.

“You’re not helping.” Staying on the main track offered a better chance of seeing anything sneaking up on me. Except I couldn’t leave yet. I had to keep searching for Reed, so I kept moving through the forest. “Reed!”

After what felt like half the night and coming up short in finding Reed or any evidence of him butchered, I marched out the way I’d come. I sped up, leaving behind the dense woods, thinking I might pay the local lion shifter pride a visit to make sure he’d arrived home all right.

Before long, I reached the dirt track and hurried along, swinging my lantern left and right at every shadow, imagining a cougar leaping out at me. The hairs on my arms stood on end the whole trip, and I looked over my shoulder at every noise. Yeah, this would be the last time I listened to my paranoid subconscious.

Voices reached me before the lights of the tiny town, Ghost, revealed themselves.

Ghost had a scattering of tiny huts that reminded me of crouching wolves. Most of the cabins were rentable for a night of pleasure with one of the women working at the masseuse parlor.

If someone weren’t looking for the location, they’d miss it in a heartbeat. No one talked about Ghost, but most local men knew it existed and visited frequently. The only reason I’d discovered the place was because I’d gone exploring in the woods and found the area during the night.

I followed the narrow track toward the town. Light poured out of the tavern windows, and a sign reading, “The Foolish Moon” hung over the entrance. A man slouched by the door, either sleeping or passed out from too much booze. Voices and music boomed from inside while across the makeshift road stood a two-story wooden home with a verandah. Out front were two men studying me with leery glares. Guards for the girls working at the parlor.

But neither of those places was my destination. I searched for the house where anyone with a silver coin or ten could double or triple it in a night.

So I marched past and headed to the first hut near the tavern. The windows were covered in lace curtains, revealing nothing inside. A garden of yellow flowers filled the front yard. It wasn’t much to look at—and I suspected that had been the intention. I set my lantern just outside the house, alongside several others.

I reached the door and knocked—three quick thumps and a sharp yelp, followed by two slow slaps of my palm to the wooden frame. Yep, one had to know the right way of getting in or you were booted out. Lucky me, I’d dated a bouncer and he’d revealed the secrets.

The door creaked open to a dimly-lit room, and an elderly woman with short, white hair greeted me. Age lines scored her face, and one might have mistaken her as weak. Worst mistake ever. I’d watched her stand up to men twice her size. After all, she owned and ran Brawl, the most popular fight club in the realm. It wasn’t illegal, but it was exclusive.

“Girl, it’s ’bout time,” she said. “Gage’s been driving me crazy with his paranoia you weren’t coming back to visit him.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped inside, bathed in the strong smell of spices. “He needs to get a life.” I hugged Bertha, her petite size all part of her illusion, a feint to make the unsuspecting think they could get past her. The woman was a master in wielding a sword, and she always targeted her victim’s ankles.

“Good to see you again. Is Dustin fighting tonight?” I broke our hug.

“He’s up first, and they’re about to begin, so get in there.” She waved me in and added, “All bets are placed at the door now. Too many people weren’t paying.”

“Makes sense.” I strolled through the room with a couch facing an unlit fireplace and down a corridor with a single candle sitting on a side table tucked in the corner. Farther to my right stood a metal door. Instead of reaching for the handle, I tapped the wall to my right, and the wall slid open on springs. A set of steps led downstairs and more candles sat in carved-out pockets in the walls, guiding my passage. I descended and behind me, the door shut. Hoots and cheers found me. I rushed down the two flights of steps where the air stunk of perspiration and freshly-turned soil. I pushed aside fabric draped over the entrance and waltzed into a room four times the size of my place inside the tower. In the center stood an arena surrounded by sandbags and filled with hay. Candles littered the three enormous candelabras dangling from the ceiling, and all around were chairs filled with people cheering. A bald man with way too many muscles flexed his biceps for the audience. A young man dressed in red and green clothing with a hat tipped with bells was blowing raspberries at the strong man, kicking straw at him. Mr. Muscles roared and grabbed the jester by the waist and tossed him across the room, where he landed behind the chairs. The crowd exploded in applause, and I smirked at the theatrics that people adored.

“First fight’s about to start. What’ll you bet?” a woman from my right asked, and I turned to find her tapping her fingernails on the chalkboard behind her, on which she had scribbled two names. Dustin Incinerator vs. Cayden the Chaos Bringer. Everyone who attended had to bet with the house as a minimum for the cost of entry.

“One token for Dustin.”

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