“I can’t,” he roared.
And before I knew what was happening, Archer had come back to the entryway and tackled Thorne. The two men crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, the impact shaking the restored entryway. We’d sold everything in this room to feed the Salt, thank the gods, but if we hadn’t, it’d all be in splinters. Archer’s face was a mask of fury as he grappled with Thorne, his earlier exhaustion seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment. Despite Archer’s ferocity, Thorne moved with an eerie calm, easily deflecting blows that might’ve shattered bone.
Archer landed a solid punch to Thorne’s jaw. The crack of the impact echoed through the empty room, but Thorne barely flinched, his expression one of resigned patience rather than pain or anger.
After the initial shock, I realized this would never end well for Archer. “Stop!” I yelled. “Stop! He’ll kill you!”
But Archer was beyond reason, driven by a protective rage I’d never seen in him before. He slammed his elbow into Thorne’s solar plexus, a blow that would have left any mortal gasping for air. Thorne only grunted, his hands coming up to grip Archer’s shoulders, not to harm but to restrain. Tuck stepped into the room, his massive frame filling the doorway. With a speed that contradicted his size, he crossed the space in two long strides and wrapped his meaty arms around Archer’s waist. In one fluid motion, he lifted him off Thorne as if he weighed no more than a child.
As Tuck hauled him backwards, Archer’s elbow shot out with lightning precision. The crack of bone meeting bone echoed through the room as Archer’s elbow connected solidly with Tuck’s jaw. Tuck’s head snapped back as he stumbled, and his back hit the wall. Blood trickled from a split in his lower lip, staining his beard red. Despite the blow, his arms remained locked around Archer, muscles straining as he fought to contain the thrashing man.
“Enough!” Thorne’s voice cracked like thunder, freezing everyone in place. He rose to his feet with inhuman grace, brushing nonexistent dust from his clothes. His eyes, however, burned with a cold fury that sent chills down my spine. “My patience wears thin, Paesha. This ends now. I am going to talk, and you are going to listen. You and I are leaving. We’re going back to the Parlor to?—”
I laughed, cutting him off. “If I had a dick, I’d tell you to suck it right now, Reverius Thorne Noctus. I’d rather get on my hands and knees and crawl to Alastor than go anywhere with you.”
Only when Alastor’s dark chuckle filled my ears did I realize the Remnants creeping along the floor were not mine, but his. Alastor took my side, bringing his hands around the back of my neck, his tattooed fingers digging in as he purred, “There’ll be no need to get on your knees, Paeshadarling.”
His power engulfed me like a tidal wave of shadows, stealing my breath and clouding my vision. The binding marks on my wrists flared to life, searing pain shooting up my arms as they recognized their master’s call. The last thing I saw before the shadows claimed me was Archer breaking free of Tuck’s grip, his face a mask of helpless fury. But it was Thorne’s expression that haunted me as the darkness closed in, not anger or jealousy or even that insufferable patience. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked afraid.
16
Thorne
The magic from Alastor’s shadows lingered in the air like a foul stench, taunting me as I stared at the empty space where Paesha had stood. A wave of terror and anger slammed into me like a battering ram. Not my emotions, but Quill’s. My power surged in response, desperate to follow Paesha, to tear through the streets and snatch her back. But that fucking bargain mark burned on my neck, a screaming reminder of my own foolishness. I couldn’t pursue her. Couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t do a godsdamned thing but stand here like a useless mortal. Still, I moved.
“Don’t,” Tuck warned as I lifted my hand toward the lingering darkness.
“Fuck off.”
“You can’t follow her.”
I spun on him, power crackling at my fingertips. “Watch me.”
“Do what? You made a bargain. Will you try to make another? Add to the collection of marks you’re gathering, locking yourself in a prison of things you can’t fucking do?” He dabbed at his split lip, eyes narrowing. “Real smart plan there, Boss.”
“I could have warned her,” I said, staring at the spot where she’d vanished.
“Should have,” Archer snarled.
I was more concerned about her walking away from me. But I’d underestimated Alastor. He’d been so quiet for so long. I should have known better. Story of my entire damn existence.
Before I could respond, another force of rage struck me.
“Bring her back,” Quill demanded, her voice carrying more authority than a child should possess. The walls seemed to vibrate with the force of her fury as she stood in the doorway.
“I can’t,” I admitted, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
“Liar! You’re a god! Fix it!”
Thea moved toward her but stumbled under the weight of the child’s projected emotions. “Quilly, you need to calm?—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Another pulse of power hit. The baby in Briony’s arms wailed in response as a crack spiderwebbed across the ceiling.
Tuck exchanged a look with Thea. “Maybe we should take this outside before the kid brings the entire house down. Again.”
“You think?” Thea snapped, but there was no real heat in it.
Archer lurched forward, still unsteady on his feet. “We need to go after them. Now.”
