Page 122 of Cherish

There’s another clang of metal against metal, and then I’m being shoved forward. “Step up,” one of the guards tells me in a harsh voice. So I do, nearly tripping on the high step.

I move slowly, feeling in front of me with my feet until I realize there’s another step. I creep up it and two more steps before I’m finally…somewhere. Though I can’t tell where—or even what—it is.

“Hurry up!” the guard growls at me, giving me a hard shove between my shoulder blades that sends me careening forward.

I stumble several steps, determined not to fall on my face. When I don’t crash into anything, I continue hesitantly moving forward until my fingers brush against what feels like a cold metal wall.

I take one more step forward and push against it as hard as I can, trying to determine how sturdy it is. Behind me, I can hear my friends shuffling and stumbling in as well. I try to call out to them, to tell them to keep walking, but all that comes out is a bunch of muffled grunts.

In the end, I just turn around and press my back against the wall, trying to stay out of the way as best I can—which isn’t exactly easy, considering none of us can see where anyone else is.

Finally, though, we must all be in the cage or whatever this is, because the same guard who yelled at me snarls, “Don’t cause any trouble, or the queen will hear about it.”

Seconds later, the warning is followed by the sound of metal doors clanging. Then the rattle of what may or may not be a chain and a lock.

The second we’re alone, every single one of us tries to talk. It doesn’t work, of course. All that comes out is a series of squeaks and cries and grunts and moans, but at least the sounds are identifiable and easily assigned to my different friends.

Even Hudson makes a noise that’s a cross between a sneer and a question.

I try to answer him—even though I have no idea what he was trying to say—but my answer is no more intelligible. It seems to calm him down, though, judging by the fact that the next sound he makes is more of a grunt.

I’ve just started walking toward where the Hudson-sounding noise came from when I hear a series of high-pitched whinnies outside our cage.

And then we start to move—fast.

65

All Caught Up

We all go flying, bodies slamming into metal walls or one another.

I bounce off someone soft—Heather, maybe, judging by the smell of her shampoo—and end up falling onto my knees and face-planting in someone else’s lap.

Someone who smells a lot like oranges and fresh water.

Fuck.

I start to push myself up as fast as I can, but that means pushing my clenched, bound hands down on Jaxon’s thigh as hard as I can. He grunts, tries to shift to help me, and ends up knocking my arms out from under me again.

Which, of course, makes me face-plant.Again.

Another low grumble, followed by him pushing against me a lot more gently than I was just doing to him. As he does, he makes a noise that I have no hope of interpreting. But I say yes, anyway, just to make a sound back.

After I’m back on my feet, courtesy of Jaxon, I reach out and find the wall again. Then slide down it until I’m sitting on my butt. If we’re going to be moving for a while, it seems a lot safer down here than risking getting sent flying twice.

All around me, I can hear clothes rustling and people grumbling as they, too, settle onto the floor. And then there’s nothing for a while besides the loud rattle of the cage’s wheels on what feels like averybumpy path and the occasional sound of an animal making noise.

I just hope wherever they’re taking us includes the Shadow Queen, as we’d planned. If it’s not—if they’re just going to leave us languishing in prison somewhere—then we’re all screwed, Mekhi most of all.

I give a muffled, humorless chuckle as I realize we never even considered the prison option. I don’t know if that’s because I’m surrounded by people who have spent their whole lives thinking themselves total badasses and uncontainable—or because we’re just shit at considering every potential outcome. To be fair—to myself, at least—I’ve always been terrible at facing possible consequences. I’m just a wee bit surprised I’m not alone in that department, when one of us should have definitely considered a lifetime prison jumpsuit option and pointed it out to the rest of us.

Every few minutes, Macy makes a string of sounds, like she’s attempting to perform some kind of spell. Every time she tries, I can feel a ripple of hope move through me and the others. And every time she fails, the hope drowns in a wave of disappointment.

Part of me wants her to keep trying, wants to think there’s some spell out there that will at least get these gags off if she can just find it. I don’t mind being arrested. I don’t even mind having my hands bound. But this shadow gag? I hate it so much that a part of me wants it gone and damn the consequences.

But even as I wish for it, I know it’s a pretty far-fetched hope. If regular magic could trump shadow magic—the oldest magical force on earth—then we wouldn’t be here. We would have found a way to break the magic of the shadow poison a long time ago, and Mekhi would be safe.

Eventually, though, she gives up making noises. And so do the rest of us. Instead, we ride in silence, with only the occasional stray grunt for company.

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