Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

27. Vera

Chapter 27

Vera

W e waste no time making our way through the odd city, stopping only once to replenish our supply of food and get something to eat before we arrive back at the Shift Authority Office. I make sure we skip the ornery cat’s place, and I’m hoping the pirate shifter’s shift has ended, but no such luck. He steps out, a blindingly white smile on his face. Being bonded to Ikar, apparently, doesn’t worry the man. He checks both our wrists.

“This is temporary and will wear off in about six weeks.” He drops my hand. “Be out before then, or there’s a likely chance you’ll be forced to mate bond with a shifter and be stuck in that forest the rest of your lives. And most of ‘em aren’t as kind as I. Got it?”

I sure hope we aren’t in that forest for six weeks. I have dues to pay and a friend to save. I gulp. How horrible is it? He stalks toward the gate and unlocks it using a large skeleton key. It swings open on silent hinges. Ikar steps forward first, seemingly unfazed by the decrepit old bridge as he walks past the gate. He must sense my hesitation because he reaches a hand back for mine and looks at me with an are you coming sort of look. I slip my hand into his strong grasp and step through the gate. It swings shut behind us and locks.

There’s this tiny part of me that instinctively wants to turn and grasp the solid iron bars of that gate and scream for someone to let me back out, but I throw water on that emotional fire and squeeze Ikar’s hand a little tighter. I keep it to myself, but I’d choose sticking with Ikar even traversing a creepy shifter forest over staying behind without him. The bridge is only wide enough for us to walk one at a time. I fully expect Ikar to continue this thing where he voluntarily goes first and leads the way, but this time he steps back and motions me forward.

“You first.”

I narrow my eyes at him, “You want me to see if it’s safe? Fine,” I say with teasing in my voice to keep the throat-tightening fear from crawling out in a wild scream, but I know he does it to make sure I get across.

All he does is give me an encouraging look with a lift of his eyebrows.

With a deep breath, I grasp both sides of the bridge. Before I take a step, Rupi takes flight, her tiny wings flapping furiously and I watch nervously as she bounces around with the gusts of wind, fighting and struggling her way across. She makes it, and now it’s my turn.

The sides are made of a thick, twisted rope that’s rough against my hands. It feels so worn and spiky that I’m worried I’ll end the crossing with rope slivers galore, but I’d rather that than fall… down there. My gaze drops to a deeply shadowed, foggy crevice. An especially forceful gust of wind blows through, violently shaking the bridge and forcibly lightening the fog for a small moment, revealing a muddy river far, far be low. Then the fog recovers its density, and all I can hear is the distant rush of the water. I feel dizzy, and my hands are white from gripping so hard, and I haven’t even stepped on the bridge yet. I stretch my fingers out, then grasp it again and take a cautious step forward.

I’m three steps in, and the worn planks feel thinner the further I go. This was a horrible idea. How can a city that seems so well-kept, whose citizens apparently use this bridge often to cross to the forest named after their kind, have a bridge as neglected and worn as this? It’s absurd. The prickly rope continues to poke at my hands as I slide them across, and I wonder how they test the safety of this thing—or if they even do.

“You think they’ve got regulations for things like this?” I call over my shoulder, trying to keep my voice light, masking the fact that I’m scared out of my blazing mind.

I hear Ikar laugh a little, and it lightens my anxiety a smidge. “Doubt it.”

He mutters something I can’t hear over the wind in my ears, then steps on, and I feel the bridge bounce a little beneath me with his weight. I wait until it settles again, as much as it does with the wind blowing through it, then I step ever so carefully, one foot after another. I try to go faster, and I think I’m doing really great until I chance a look behind me to search for Ikar and the vertigo attacks. I’m left spinning and nauseous with my eyes shut, pretending I’m anywhere else. The wind picks up the further out we get, and near the middle, it feels like a hurricane. And then I slip because the holey, warped planks turn damp and slippery toward the middle, too. Don’t know how they stay wet with these kind of winds keeping them company, but they are. Strings of loose, weakened rope whip in the wind, along with my hair. The bridge creaks and sways, and I see another tiny piece of rope break. I start walking faster, but the bridge shakes so hard with another gust that when I take a step too large, I’m knocked to a knee and feel like I’m about to slide through the gaping sides.

“Hold on!” Ikar shouts. The wind blows so hard it’s difficult to even control the expression on my face, and I’m sure I look like a dog happily riding in a speeding wagon, tongue hanging out and all. But that doesn’t matter when the bridge begins to tilt.

“Both hands on one side!” he yells again. I wouldn’t be able to hear him if he didn’t. But I quickly obey, even though it’s terrifying to let go of one side for even a second. The bridge flips and sways roughly, and I scream as my arms jerk against my tightly gripped hands around the rope. Ikar and I dangle above the muddy abyss, and I freeze.