Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

CHAPTER TWO

We’re just out of sight of the café’s outdoor tables, and there’s another lane off to the left. The angry woman is staring at us, waiting for an answer.

I glance at the little boy again, who looks up at me with big brown eyes.

I could turn and run, but two things stop me. One is purely selfish. I’ve already been seen with them, and Jules suspects me entirely on the basis that he thinks I’m too cute to be human.

But the other reason is that I cannot stomach the thought of this little boy becoming another pool of blood.

I smile and wave at the woman who’s staring at us from the doorway. “Tour group!” I yell in French. “Fey themed. Pretty good costumes, right?” I give her a cheerful smile, then turn back to the group. “Bonjour à tout le monde!” I call out to the haggard demi-Fey, beckoning them toward the road that cuts off to the left. “Nous pouvons commencer la visite. Bienvenue à la ville frontière magique!”

I grin at them, and they all stare at me, fear etched on their faces. I just told them that we could start the tour and welcomed them to the magical border town. They don’t seem to understand what I’m trying to do.

“On the beach,” I continue in French, “we will have a view of the incredible veil, the barrier to the Fey kingdom. Until fifteen years ago, most people didn’t even know they existed. They lived in another dimension, one created by magic long ago—Brocéliende, the Fey realm. Auberon’s own kingdom was withering, so they invaded our dimension, and he occupied France for more territory. Now, the Fey have two regions: Brocéliende in the other dimension, and Fey France in our world. The French fought back valiantly, preserving some of the south.”

The stone road gives way to hot, white sand.

At least on the beach, all the bare feet will make sense.

I give a speech that makes war sound dramatic and heroic. The truth is, of course, horrific, rife with senseless deaths and violence. But tour guides don’t dwell on that. War tourism is supposed to be fun . I frantically gesture for them to follow me to the beach, over sand and short shrubs that smell like thyme. When they don’t follow, I grab the blonde woman by the hand and pull her along. The others reluctantly shuffle after her.

They all look so thin, so terrorized. What happened to them in the Fey realm? And what will happen to me if someone decides I’m one of them?

“After the peace talks,” I go on, “King Auberon promised not to claim any more territory, and we have now established the status quo.” Lowering my voice, I quickly ask, “Est-ce que quelqu’un parle francais?” I switch to English. “Does anyone here speak English?”

Blank stares.

Maybe I should try the Fey language? “Mishe-hu medaber áit seo Fey?”

“Stop trying to speak in Fey,” one of the women whispers in English. Her eyes are strangely bright, an otherworldly violet. “I understand English. Your Fey pronunciation is painful.”

Ouch. I’ve been trying to learn from a book, but the pronunciation was never clear on the page.

“Okay,” I answer softly, beckoning them closer. “Listen, you all need to get off the streets. Now.”

“Why would you say that?” She flicks her hair behind her shoulder in what looks like an attempt at a casual gesture. “We’re ordinary English citizens on holiday.” Her Fey accent makes every word twirl beautifully, and she doesn’t sound remotely English.

“Sure,” I say dryly. “Listen, anyone can see what you are.” Someone in the group gasps, and the violet-eyed woman turns to run. I grab her by the arm. “No! Don’t run. It will only call attention to you.”

Her lower lip juts out. “Are you an agent?”

An agent? Are those the spies I heard the man talk about yesterday? The secret resistance? Sadly, I’m no hero. “No. I’m not an agent. My name is Nia. What’s yours?”

She hesitates for a few seconds, looking as if she regrets her earlier words. Finally, she sighs. “I’m Aleina. We were supposed to meet a contact, but he never showed up. He had a secret way through the city to the docks. Disguises. Counterfeit passports. Weapons to protect ourselves. He has everything we need. But he’s not here.”

“I don’t have those things.”

“Can you protect us if we get attacked?” she asks desperately.

If we were attacked, the only thing I could do would be to distract the attackers with a terrible Fey accent. “Um…no.”

“Then you can’t help us.” Her eyes mist with tears. Up close, I see that there are flecks of gold in the violet of her pupils. Her fingers are delicate. Even with her ears covered by her black hair, these are telltale marks of a demi-Fey. “I’ll have to try to summon help.” She lifts the blue jewel.

“Summon?” I glance at the crystal. It seems to pulse with an unearthly light. “What does that do?”

“It’s a magical cry for help,” she says, her voice tight. “Once I break it, it’ll erupt with a very loud noise and bright light. It might summon the resistance here. It’s a last resort.” She tugs at the pendant.

“No!” I grab her fist before she can yank it off. “The streets are patrolled by Fey soldiers today. You’ll get us both in trouble. The Fey will be here in seconds if you use that. Listen, I have a better idea.”

She releases her crystal. “What?”

“People here are used to tourist groups,” I say. “The south coast has lots of visitors who come from all over the world to see the veil. Some of them dress like Fey. We’ll pretend to be a tour group, and I’ll be your guide, okay? That’s what I was doing before, acting as if I were your tour guide. It’ll explain why you’re all grouped together and why you’re dressed like this.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Good. But you don’t quite look right.” I scan the group again. Twelve of them. Some of them don’t look Fey, but others are obviously so. I point to a man whose ears are more noticeably pointy. “Put on that woman’s hat. We need to hide those ears. And you, miss? Hide that pendant. It’s clearly Fey. Anyone with long hair, use it to cover your ears.” I had to make them seem human.

The group quickly follows my instructions. They seem reassured by my presence, which sends a pang of guilt twisting through my chest. They have no idea how badly I’m out of my depth.

But I’m deep in this now, so I plaster on a smile and march forward.

On the beach, tourists are sitting out with picnics and under umbrellas. The light radiates off the sea, and the marine wind toys with my sundress. The sand’s heat warms my soles through my sandals.

I settle into my role as a tour guide, projecting my voice and speaking in French. “If you all follow me, ladies and gentlemen, down this way. Back in the year of the invasion, a number of people fled the Fey realm. Luckily for us, these days, there’s peace between us and our Fey neighbors. The local police work in tandem with the veil guards to maintain law and order, and to keep the status quo intact.” We stand out on the beach, and I lead them toward the town’s streets, where other tourist groups usually roam.

The group follows me obediently across the sand. Some of them still look frightened, but others look curiously around them.

“Any idea of where you have to go at the docks?” I ask Aleina in a low voice.

“I think just northeast of here.”

I swallow hard. That would be the dock directly next to the veil. “Okay, we’ll have to go up that street. I think.”

“You think ? You don’t know?”

“I don’t live here. I arrived this week.”

Aleina mutters an unfamiliar word in the Fey language. It doesn’t sound very nice.

“Over here, ladies and gentlemen,” I holler. I didn’t realize how difficult it was to be a tour guide. Talking loudly while marching, constantly turning around to address the group. My asthma is starting to act up, my breath coming in wheezes. “That statue over there commemorates the French peace treaty with the Fey. Over a hundred thousand humans and Fey died when the Fey army first appeared in our world. King Auberon ripped through the magical barrier between the Fey realm and ours, shocking us all with the existence of mythical beasts and powerful magic, as I’m sure you remember. The Fey magic destroyed the advanced technology of the French military. The human army was defenseless against magic, and the Fey quickly took over the north of France and the Channel Islands. To save part of the south, the French resorted to old-fashioned cannons that used a scattershot of iron nails. Iron saved the south, thanks to the Fey aversion to iron.”

The demi-Fey aren’t even acting as if they’re listening to me anymore. All of them are looking up toward wisps of fog coiling off the eastern veil. I follow their eyes, and my stomach plunges.

Two large red beasts swoop through the sky high above the town, wings flapping slowly. Gods save me. Dragons.

I’d seen one, three days ago, a tiny speck in the distance. These two are much closer, flying just above the town, their scales glimmering in the sunlight. Their heads pivot as they search the earth.

My gut tells me that they’re looking for these very fugitives, and they could spot them from above, a group of magical beings. They say dragons can smell fear from far away…

I try to slow my breathing.

If the dragons spot the demi-Fey, it’ll be over for them. They’ll simply dive and scorch them all, turning them into living torches. It’s what they did during the war. The smart thing for me to do would be to bolt, to put as much distance between me and this group of demi-Fey as I can.

I look at them huddled, eyes wide and locked on the dragons. The little boy with dirt on his cheek clutches one of the women’s legs, and she strokes his shaggy blond hair absentmindedly.

Shit. I can’t leave them. My heart thunders.

With a racing heart, I glance around. On the beach, people are sitting up and pointing at the sky. Some are smiling, marveling at the beauty of the dragons. Drinking champagne. After all, the dragons aren’t after them .

That means my tour group shouldn’t look scared, either. They should look relaxed but excited, getting a glimpse of not one but two dragons. Real tourists would delight at the chance to tell their friends about this back home.

“We are incredibly lucky!” I call out gleefully. “Ladies and gentlemen, in the sky, you can see two red dragons. Those majestic beasts work with the Fey to keep our borders secure. Everyone, wave at the dragons to thank them for keeping the border safe!”

I begin to wave enthusiastically, a deranged grin plastered on my face, smiling as if my life depends on it. Which it does.

This is my M.O.: act like everything is fine, blast people with positivity, and hope for the best.

Except the fugitives are frozen in place, not moving.

“Aleina,” I mutter through clenched teeth, “wave at the damn dragons. Look happy.”

After a second, she starts waving, a rictus grin stretching her lips. Then others follow suit. The dragons glance our way, then turn their heads in disinterest. My chest unclenches.

“Okay, folks, the tour continues,” I shout, my heart in my throat. “Come on, we still have a lot to see on this glorious day.”

I lead them up toward the winding stone roads, and the dragons recede into the distance. My pulse is roaring, and I can hardly breathe. I turn back to the demi-Fey. They’re scared, all looking to me for guidance, and?—

Hang on. There’s one missing. That blonde woman I’d grabbed by the hand earlier.

“Where’s the woman who was with you?” I ask Aleina urgently, trying to recall how she looked. “Um…the one with the golden hair and the green skirt?”

Aleina blinks and turns around. She looks at one of them and says, “Ei-fo Vena, le-an chuaigh sí?” Where is Vena, did she get lost?

He shakes his head helplessly and answers in Fey that he’s not sure. She was there just a few minutes ago. He thinks she might have run.

You’ve got to be kidding me . “Okay, wait here,” I say.

I hurry up the road by the restaurant, searching for Vena on the narrow lane. When I turn a corner, a shimmer of green draws my attention. She’s there, racing up a winding road. I take a step after her, then freeze.

Two Fey soldiers round a corner, and they’re marching toward her. I slip back behind the corner, watching from the safety of a stone wall. Fog curls over the stony street.

One of the Fey draws a sword. The wind picks up his white-blond hair, toying with it. His dark, velvety cloak billows behind him. He’s speaking in Fey, but I can’t hear exactly what he’s saying. She looks so tiny there, dwarfed by the colorful buildings and the imposing Fey soldiers.

She’s shaking her head, trying to tell them that she doesn’t understand what they’re saying, that she can’t speak the Fey language. I chance a step forward. I can tell them she’s on my tour. Sorry, officers, those tourists would lose their heads if they weren’t attached ?—

The pale-haired soldier swings his sword. A crimson spray spatters on the nearby wall. She topples onto the street, blood gushing down her green skirt.

I gasp and slink behind a corner, tears springing to my eyes. The world feels unsteady beneath my feet. Shit, shit, shit! Are there no laws here? Southern France is supposed to be un occupied, but apparently, the Fey can kill in the streets, without a trial, or even a good reason.

I risk a look back, but don’t see anyone following me. My breath is ragged in my throat. Either the soldiers didn’t see me or they thought I didn’t look like much of a threat.

I walk down to the beach, the image of her murder playing on a loop in my mind. She didn’t look much older than me. And it was the way she collapsed, just folding onto herself…it all seemed so casual. A lazy swoop of the blade, an arc of blood. A job done.

I clamp my eyes shut and bite my lip. The seaside air no longer smells fresh. It feels like I’m inhaling brackish rot. My lungs whistle as I inhale. I’m running out of breath, and this could be a panic attack or my lungs collapsing. Probably both. My airway is narrowed to a single point.

I focus on my senses and the feel of the ground beneath my feet to calm myself and ignore the seaside scent of decay. I smell thyme and brine, the faint whiff of lavender. I feel the kiss of the breeze against my skin.

My chest is practically caving in. From my handbag, I pull out my inhaler. Two puffs. Within moments, my airways start to open.

I shove the inhaler back into the bag and hurry back over the brush, onto the sand. I shield my eyes and find the group huddled on the beach.

“Where’s Vena?” Aleina asks.

My heart clenches. I can’t lie to them. “Dead,” I say. I can’t let them linger for someone who’s never coming back, or they’ll end up bleeding out, too. “We have to go.” Raising my voice, I call out in French, “Okay, everyone! Let’s continue our tour.” The cheer in my tone borders on hysteria. “We need to get to the docks, where the French navy fought the large sea serpent.”

I walk forward, then glance over my shoulder and motion for them to follow me. Aleina’s eyes shine, and she follows me resolutely. The rest follow suit.

I lead them across the beach, and the sun dips lower in the sky. Twilight stains the clouds with red. As I plod along, I try to keep a smile plastered on my face, though my body is trembling like leaves in the wind. I take them on a grim procession into a network of alleys, a spiderweb of cobbled streets that spread out over the seaside town. While I rattle off random historic facts, my mind is still on Vena. It was the ease with which the Fey soldier had swung his sword, like a bored teenager swinging for a baseball. I’ve seen a few dead people before, but they were all at funerals, neatly in their coffins. Never a murder. Never such casual violence.

Wrought iron fences and brick buildings crowd the road. As dusk darkens the sky above us, I lead the demi-Fey up the hill. “As you can see, the gutter runs through the center of the road, a relic of the medieval era…”

I know no one is listening, but it doesn’t matter. I keep going, trying to look casual.

Between buildings, we get glimpses of the sea and the coils of mist from the veil. The fog seemed like a fascinating curiosity when I first arrived. Now, it’s horrifying. All of this is horrifying.

Sweat trickles down my temples. There’s no one around, so I drop the tour guide act—until I catch a glimpse of Fey soldiers at the bottom of the hill. We’re close to the veil here, and it hums in my ears.

My tour group still looks terrified, and I wish they’d stop clinging to each other.

“We’ll turn right here,” I call out, and move to turn back down the street—then realize that a couple of patrolling Fey are marching on that road, too. “I meant left, of course.”

But now, we’re also getting pinned in by the Fey soldiers. I clench my jaw, my mind whirling.

I turn toward them, marching backward, beckoning for the group to follow me. “Our tour continues down by the beach!”

I take another step back, and Aleina shouts my name in a panic.

Violet-sheened fog snakes around me, and my stomach plummets. The misty veil has roiled closer, and it’s drawing me in.

Magic thrums over my skin, making my teeth chatter.

My thoughts go dark, my body cold. I’m inside the veil. And that means I’m about to die.