And she knew precisely who had brought her here into this dream. “Serrik, if you’re going to hurt me. Or kill me. Or rip out my eyes. Or…do…anythingto me, that I’m not going to like, of any shape or form,please just get it over with. I’m having a really miserablefuckingday and I’d really just like to skip thefuckingpretenses, if you would besokind.”
“Hardly.”
The voice came directly from behind her. Ava jumped and whirled to face him. Sure enough, the man—fae—she had seen before was standing directly behind her, only a foot away, looming. His expression was cold—impassive and unreadable.
Taking several steps away from him, she braced herself for whatever he was going to do. But he simply stood there, watching her. When he didn’t speak, she went first. “I know you’re the reason I’m trapped here.”
“I never denied I was.” He turned from her to walk toward the roaring fireplace. Two glasses of red wine were already poured and waiting on a table. Picking them up, he returned to her, deftly holding one between the tips of his sharp, golden nails.
It felt stupid to take the wine. It felt like an insult not to. After staring at the glass, and him, for what was probably three seconds but felt like thirty, she finally took it. “What do you want from me?”
“A contract, as I said.” He was as expressive as one of the ancient oil paintings on the walls that were watching her from their inky surroundings, little more than ghostly faces in a sea of paint that had grown dark with age. “We both wish to be free of this place.”
“I wouldn’t have to want that, if it weren’t for you.” She glared at him. “You dragged me here. It’s your fault I’m stuck here in the first place. What’re you going to give me in trade for that?”
“Nothing. For your life is worthless.” He sipped his wine. The statement was made as if it were as simple as saying the sky was blue.
“Oh—ohfuck you.”She laughed, pacing away from him. She knew he was dangerous. But she wasn’t going to stand there and be insulted, no matter if he could rip her eyes out or flay her skin off.
“It is not a statement of judgement upon your person, Ava. I have no influence over the mortal world on anyone or anything of any importance or value.” With the grace of a panther walking along the branches of his enclosure, Serrik moved to the long table that ran down the center of the room. “It was only your lack of importance that allowed me to draw you here in the first place.”
“That didn’t give you permission. Or the right.” Now she wanted to throw her glass of wine into his smooth, expressionless face. “Let me go.”
“I fear it is too late. I cannot. Even if I wished to, I am unable. You are now bound to the book you carry in the waking world, and it was imprisoned within the Web by the same jailers who placed me at its center.” He took another sip of the wine before putting the goblet down. “It will remain with you until you are unfit to carry it any longer. Such as you saw with Gregor.”
“So. I’ll just age until I turn into a corpse like that?” A cold shiver ran down her spine at the idea of just rotting away into nothing.
“No.” He huffed. It was the closest thing to an emotion she’d seen from him so far. “You are now…for lack of a better word, immortal.”
Ava nearly choked on her wine. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Immortal. You shall not age. You shall not die from illness or violence,” Serrik repeated, as casually as if he were explaining the weather. “Though you can suffer great pain and calamity. And you may come, as all those who have before you, to desire that death were possible.”
She chugged the rest of her wine.
And went for the bottle.
She might have caught a ghost of a smile on Serrik’s face, but she was probably mistaken as she poured herself a new glass. “So I’m immortal, trapped with a creepy book, and stuck in some nightmare…prison…Web…thing. With you, and a bunch of other monster fae who are going to try toeatme, or parts of me. What’s the contract you’re so eager to make?”
Serrik moved with liquid grace to stand beside the enormous tree. In the candlelight, his shadow stretched impossibly across the floor, reaching toward her like grasping fingers.
“The book you carry can serve as a map.” His voice was like thunder in the distance. “A map to keys. A map to things that can unmake this place that now binds us both.”
Ava’s laugh was sharp and brittle. “And you want me to, what, help you escape? After you’ve basically kidnapped me without so much as ahi, how are you?”
“You misunderstand.” His long fingers traced the bark of the tree almost lovingly. “The immortality is not my doing. It is the book’s nature to preserve its bearer. However, your frustration at my involvement in bringing you here is…understandable.”
“Gee, thanks. So generous.Understandable.” Ava slammed the wine glass down, dark liquid sloshing over ancient parchments. “And will you just tell me what you actually want me to do? Besides ‘set you free.’”
For the first time, something like emotion flickered across Serrik’s face—a brief flash of desperation swiftly hidden behindhis mask of indifference. “I require a partner. Someone who can work my will outside this room where I am trapped.” He leaned forward. “The Web has wardens, Ava. They would see me destroyed, rather than freed.”
“And I should care because…?”
“Now that you carry the tome, they will come for you.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “They will sense that Gregor is dead, and the book has a new keeper. And the hunt shall begin.”
Ava crossed her arms, trying to hide the tremor in her hands. “I’m guessing these wardens aren’t the forgiving types who’ll let me explain this was all a huge mistake?”
“They would sooner tear your mind apart to ensure this prison stays shut. And, even worse, they will seek to use you to wield the book’s secrets for their own ends.” Serrik tilted his head just slightly to the side. “Particularly since you are unable to protect yourself. You are not a witch. Without access to power, the spells within the book are useless to you. You are vulnerable.”
