Page 3 of Gilded Curses

At this point, he’d kill anything that came at him. He didn’t care if it was a six-inch-tall brownie or a rat; he’d stomp whatever it was into the ground and dance on their obliterated bodies.

However, nothing charged at him, and the living room was nothing more than white walls. No furniture cluttered the wooden floor. He’d assumed this was the living room but couldn’t be sure.

He had no idea where the dim light reflecting off the pristine walls came from, as no lamps or fixtures hung from the ceiling. The same magic fueling the lights in the towns throughout the Cursed Realm probably did the same here, but somehow, that magic was more ominous in this place.

He hadn’t believed it was possible, but he hated this realm more with every passing minute. Scanning the room, his eyes settled on a shadow near the wall, except it wasn’t a real shadow.

He was a dark fae; he knew shadows, controlled them, and used them to help him survive. This wasn’t a real shadow. It was something more.

CHAPTER FOUR

With his sword at the ready, he prowled toward the humanoid shape and prepared to strike it down. The closer he got, the more he realized there was nothing to strike down.

Lowering his sword, he stopped before the shadow that was nothing more than a cutout. Lips curling into a sneer, he seized what should be its shoulder.

The thing was solid beneath his hand and an inch thick, but it wasn’t living or breathing. The figure was cool beneath his palm, and it took a second to realize he was holding on to wood.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Pip shifted uneasily, and when she spoke, like all brownies, her accent held a hint of the human’s Scottish brogue. “What is going on?”

By now, he should have been used to all the games and endless bullshit of the Cursed Realm, but this was a literal in-your-face mindfuck unlike anything else they’d endured. This was tangible proof someone was screwing with them.

When he discovered who that someone was, he’d tear their guts out with his bare hands.

A step in the doorway alerted him to Zeth’s presence. He glanced at the demon before shifting his attention to the window and where Sahira and Elsa stood in the street.

Elsa turned in a circle, searching for a threat; Sahira’s attention remained on the house. He didn’t like leaving her alone but had to see what else was in this house.

When the wood vibrated beneath his hand, he ripped it from its motorized track and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a bang.

A few seconds later, the rattling of the track drew his attention back to the floor and the small piece of wood. It slid forward to stop in the middle of the window.

“What is this?” Zeth asked.

Orin turned to find the demon inspecting the wooden cutout. He twisted it in his hands before lifting his head to meet Orin’s eyes.

“What is this?” the demon demanded.

“One more game.”

Normally, Orin loved games… when he was the one playing them. He thrilled in being the cat on the hunt but despised being the mouse.

What these things here didn’t know—and he was sure there was something here—was that he was more than a mouse. They may think they had him trapped in a maze, roaming endlessly, but this mouse would claw his way out.

“Do you think all those shadowy figures are like this?” Zeth inquired. “Or are some of them a decoy, and there’s really something deadly in this town?”

“There might be something deadly in this house.”

Zeth’s scowl deepened as he tossed the wooden figure down. When Orin threw it, he’d created a hole and left a streak of black on the pristine white wall.

“You should go back outside with them,” Orin said. “I’ll go through the rest of the house.”

On his shoulder, Pip shifted but didn’t protest his words as she kept her spear at the ready.

Zeth rose and wiped his hands on his pants. “They can take care of themselves and watch out for each other. We’re not too far away from them, and someone has to have your back too.”

“I have it,” Pip said.