Page 53 of Avalon Tower

“There’s a criminal on the train!” I shout, pointing back at the door. “A demi-Fey murderer. He’s stabbed someone in the back carriage. Help barricade the door!”

Shouts echo off the carriage walls as I hobble across the carriage. With every step, pain screams from my twisted ankle up my calf.

When I glance behind me, I see two Fey men holding the door closed.

I take in the strange beauty of the place as I shuffle along. The Fey are draped in rich fabrics of burgundy and royal blue. In this carriage, vines grow over ornately carved wooden walls, and lights twinkle from the leaves. Music floats though the air.

But as I get closer to the end, a woman with a tiara and crimson hair points at me, shouting, “Stop her!”

No one is really listening to her. They’re all focusing on the other end of the train, where the alleged murderer is pounding maniacally against the door.

Good. Chaos is my friend.

I limp along as quickly as my ankle allows me to. Just as I reach the carriage door, I look back. The barred door rattles, and the attendant shouts something from the other side. I slip through into the next carriage, slamming the door shut behind me. It’s another passenger car, full of Fey sitting among the luxury of gilt-frame portraits and ivy-covered walls.

I play the same trick, with less satisfying results this time. I scream that a killer is after me, and yell at them to bar the door. While I hobble across the aisle, a single Fey man with silver hair makes a half-hearted attempt to question me, but I pretend not to hear him.

I burst through the next door, agony shrieking up my leg.

I’m prepared for the extraordinary, but the sight in front of me still stops me dead for a few precious seconds. The carriage is decorated like a ballroom, and I’ve wandered into an actual masquerade ball. There are no tables or benches, and Fey dance in long gowns and animal masks. Lights twinkle on the mahogany walls, and a harp thrums, a pulsing, sensual beat that throbs in my belly. Tiny jewels hang suspended in the air, glittering with light that reflects off a marble floor. The space appears to be cavernous, the dimensions all wrong for a train.

I limp inside, and some of the dancers glance my way, but almost no one stops dancing. Despite the pain in my leg, I feel the strange need to dance as well, and the music and the magic of the masquerade ball takes over my body.

This place is wildly disorienting.

Euphoria bubbles in my chest and slides through my veins, and I have to force myself to remember that I need to get to the other side of the carriage. I pirouette through the dancers. Giggling, I snatch a cat mask off a woman’s face. She grins at me, her lips blood red. I don the mask and dance my way to the next door. My ankle throbs, but the pain is so dull now. I’m acting out the moves from my childhood, a few steps of the waltz, now an allemande, a chasse—

I land badly on my bad ankle and lose my balance. I hiss in pain and stumble into the carriage door. Snapping out of my haze, look back at the ballroom. Two black-clad guards are searching for me among the dancers. With my cat mask still on, I slip through the next door.

In the next carriage, violet smoke whirls around Fey in skimpy outfits. They recline on cushions, their limbs entwined. Some are smoking long cigarettes, others are kissing and groping one another. The smoke is cloying and sweet, and I hold my breath, but not quickly enough. Dream smoke, it’s called, a Fey drug that has become very popular with the human elite for the past years. I glance at a man sucking on a woman’s nipple.

I find myself staring, the dream smoke relaxing my muscles. My head spins, and I try to keep my balance, licking my lips as heat slides through my body.

My eyes close, and I sway, imagining Raphael’s magic caressing me, that he’s right behind me, his athletic body pressed against mine. For a moment, my mind blazes with a vision of me lying on that cushion, of Raphael kissing my naked skin—

Absolutely not.

I clench my fists and force myself through the carriage as quickly as I can.

I reach the next door and fling it open. It’s dark in here, and I collapse on the floor, kicking it closed behind me.

I can’t breathe. The rush wreaked havoc with my asthma. I search for my inhaler, except I no longer have my bag.

Shit.

A sudden growl draws my attention. The carriage is full of caged animals: great wolves with gleaming eyes, foxes, a giant bell jar of fluttering butterflies. Ravens perch in cages.

One of the wolves growls again, his eyes intent on me. I quickly glance at the cage door, relieved to see it’s locked.

I’ve still got two agents after me, though. Perhaps the smoke has slowed them, but for how long? I have to keep moving.

Forcing myself upright, I hobble between the animal cages. My breath whistles, and my chest feels heavy. The Fey chasing me don’t suffer the same affliction. I can go on for one more carriage, maybe two, and they’ll be upon me.

Pain lacerates my ankle, but I make it to the other door. I glance at a caged wolf to my right, one with gray fur. His lip curls back, baring enormous teeth.

“Hey, there,” I wheeze, leaning on my knees. “Hello.”

He growls, his ears flicking back. I don’t think I’m making a new friend here.