Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Back in New York, trolls were allied with the gangs that crisscrossed Manhattan. The trolls controlled access to the subway stations, and you had to pay the toll to enter. She didn’t think that was going to work here. Nor did she think she could take down a full-grown troll.
Graves seemed utterly unconcerned, which was so fucking Graves. The troll blinked down at him as he approached and pulled her hand back like she was going to swipe him aside. But Graves retrieved a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and offered it to the troll, speaking in French. The troll frowned in confusion at the paper Graves had handed her. It was always a moment of confusion when the subway trolls were paid off to let travelers through, as if unsure if the toll had been sufficiently paid.
After a pregnant pause, the troll frowned and said, “Expired.”
“What?” Graves asked in confusion.
But the troll gave no response. She let the paper flutter to the ground and swung her mighty fist. It landed in Graves’s stomach, sending him flying a half-dozen feet into the air.
“Fuck!” Kierse yelled as she hurtled toward the troll. “What did you give her?”
“A troll pass,” Graves grunted from the ground.
“That didn’t seem to work.”
“Well aware,” he said as he rolled over to his knees. “Goddamn it, I liked this suit.”
The guards crested the hill behind them. They were running out of time. Kierse needed a strategy to deal with the massive mountain troll. She had been certain that she couldn’t take her down, but with her new Fae abilities, was that true? Seemed like now was the time to test it. Her eyes darted up, up, up the enormous troll’s back to the flag fluttering above her head, then down to the blocked gate behind her. She only had a few seconds. Time to improvise.
She took a running start and vaulted up the back of the troll, using her legs and meaty muscles as footholds and her shirt to climb. The disoriented and now infuriated troll leaned forward, making the hike up her back easier, especially in these stupid high heels. Just as the troll reached back to try to swipe her off, she grasped at the flapping banner, yanking with all her might and ripping the thing clear off of the pole. She dodged another swing and whipped the banner around the troll’s neck. Digging her heels into the troll’s shoulders, she pulled with all of her might, choking the giant beast.
“A little…help here,” Kierse grunted.
Graves finally stood, dusting off his suit. “Looks like you have it.”
The troll wobbled as air left her lungs. She began to topple forward, and Kierse jerked sideways so the monster fell into the giant gate, ripping it from its hinges and sending it screeching to the ground.
Kierse rode the troll to the ground, executing another dive roll to escape the worst of the fallout. Graves was there a second later with his hand extended to help her up.
“Nice work.”
“You could have been useful,” she said as they dashed out the now-open gate just as the guards approached.
“I thought you had it under control,” he said with a smirk on his too-pretty lips.
Should she be upset that he’d left her to deal with it alone? Or happy that he trusted her enough to get it done without interfering? Why did both feel like the right answer?
They hit the main road, and a limousine screeched to a stop. Graves ripped the back door open, and Kierse tumbled into it. He followed, slamming the door and yelling, “Move!”
George, Graves’s private driver, took off, leaving the guards in the dust. Kierse turned in her seat with a laugh to see the guards disappear into the night.
“They’re going to follow the limo,” she said. “We should ditch it and lay low.”
“It’s warded,” Graves said.
“So…no one can get in?” she asked, jerking her eyes back to his face.
“It can’t be tracked.”
“You can do that?”
“So can you,” he told her as he popped the button on his suit coat and peeled his gloves off, tossing them onto the seat between them. Her eyes went to his fingers. Long and slender, they had always made her think of a pianist’s fingers, even though she knew he didn’t grace the keys but turned the pages of books. With the gloves gone, she caught a glimpse of the holly vine tattoo snaking around his wrist. She’d seen the vines that wrapped his forearm, bicep, over his shoulder. Thorns digging into his skin like hands into the flesh of Proserpina in the famous Roman sculpture.
She cleared her throat. “I thought warding kept things out.”
“Magic is about intent,” he told her as he slipped out of his jacket. The tie went next, and he undid two buttons at his throat. “Wards work by pushing your magic and intent into an object. My intent could be to keep people from entering my home.” He ripped out the cuff links and rolled the sleeves of his white button-up to his elbows before lifting his eyes to her. “Most of them.”