Savage Lands Read online

  Fae magic was good, but I didn’t think it was that fast, not for wounds like mine.

  “You seemed very determined to live. The fae bullet barely missed your spine. Hit your lungs.” The healer stepped back to me, her voice clipped and unfriendly. “A large amount of blood filled them, which should’ve drowned you.” Bedside manner she did not have. “You really should have died. I would have let you. One less human in this world.”

  My black eyes lifted to hers, but not one emotion showed in my expression. I’d been taught to keep my emotions in check, lock up any weakness behind a steel exterior.

  “Thought that went against a healer’s code of ethics?” My voice came out raspy and low.

  “Are you dead?” She smirked, then stabbed my arm with the needle, injecting a serum into my system. “But let me say…you will wish you were. Where you are headed, death would have been a blessing.”

  My mouth parted to respond, but a jolt of adrenaline lurched through my body, swallowing the hazy sensation in a gulp. My eyes bolted open, air slamming into my lungs.

  Alert.

  Sound. Sight. Taste. My senses flamed to life, turned up so high I could hear the flames lick the glass in the bulbs above my head, footsteps squeaking down the hallway, the smell of floor cleaner, the chalky-stale taste coating my tongue. My brain seemed at full charge, and my limbs twitched and squirmed as though needing to be let off a leash.

  “It will fade in a few hours, but they want you awake and fully aware of what’s happening to you.” A menacing smile ghosted her mouth.

  “What do you mean fully aware? What’s going to happen? Where am I?” Just as the final words spurted off my tongue, the door burst open. Three huge men stormed into the room dressed in all black, armed with swords and rifles, wearing fae bulletproof vests over their shirts. The fae leader’s insignia was emblazoned on their chests: two intertwined, detailed circles with a sword cutting through the middle, the blade and handle engraved with Celtic symbols and blazing with light. It symbolized the Sword of Nuada, an old-world treasure of theirs, which was said to have been destroyed in the Fae War. But some conspirators believed it made it out and was hidden.

  To me, the crest represented fear and death.

  Terror gripped my throat, my instincts kicking in. Leaping off the bed in defense, my wrist restraint yanking me back to the bed.

  “Hey, Sloane.” The healer tilted her head, smiling at the largest guard, her eyes glistening with lust, not really looking at the other two guys. Sloane had a patch on his arm signifying him as the highest-ranking soldier in the room. His caramel-colored hair was brushed back from his face, revealing eyes even more purple than the healer’s. He was from a noble fairy line, at least at one time. In the new world, lineage didn’t matter as much. The fae ruler here only cared if you were pureblood and could fight.

  I guess the human side wasn’t much different in our prerequisites.

  Half-breeds weren’t accepted on either side, living in the shadows of the Savage Lands with the rest of the degenerates.

  “The captive ready for pick up?” He didn’t even look at her, his attention falling on me. He was solidly built. Tall, wide, and ripped like he was carved from stone.

  “Yes. Seems pointless to have the elite team on her.” Her gaze drifted over to me, running down my barely dressed figure. “A human. I could snap her in half without blinking.”

  “It’s our job. Pick up and transfer safely.” A blond guard peered at me, a snarl of disgust hitching his lip. Another pretty guy who looked similar to all the rest to me. “Though she looks like a bunny-shifter could handle her.”

  Looks could be deceiving, asshole. I kept my mouth shut. We were taught to say nothing, even under torture.

  “Let’s just get this last transfer done.” Sloane stepped forward, pulling a set of cuffs off his belt, his buddies moving in around me. Weaponless, wounded, and chained to a bed, the odds were against me.

  “No,” I growled, shoving back into the bed away from their reach, the frame squealing over the tiled floor.

  The blond guard on my left snorted, laughing at my attempt to resist. My brain told me logically I had no chance, to save my energy. But I knew in my gut where we were going. They wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to save my life to kill me. No. Where I was going was far worse.

  The drug she pumped in my system gave me the strength to bounce on my toes, my back curling in defense.

  “Save your energy and breath, human.” The third guard on my right, a striking male with black hair, dark skin, and amber eyes, pulled out a handgun from his belt. “This is only going one way.”

  Baring my teeth, I glared at them, widening my stance.

  The third guard shook his head. “All right. We warned you.” He lurched for me.

  A grunt tore from my lips as I yanked at my cuffed arm, skating and twisting the bed across the floor, blocking them from me. I shoved at the bed, the heels of my feet digging into the floor, and rammed into the two guards with all the force I could muster. Their large bodies stumbled back, falling like boulders and crashing to the ground.

  Cries of protest and surprise bubbled out of them. I leaped back over the bed feet first, my heels slamming into the healer’s stomach, knocking her over. Ignoring the throbbing pain from my body and the tug at my wrist, I jumped down on one of the guards, reaching for his gun, my brain clicking into survival mode.

  Four shots to the heart or brain, and I could have a chance to get out of here. Escape.

  I had killed only once before. It was part of our evaluation last year in class. To see if we could move up in training. Had what it took to be put in the field. They didn’t want us to hesitate or not be able to handle death out in the world.

  When they brought out the fae prisoners for us to gun down like rats in a cage, Istvan had chosen that day to come watch me. His gaze drilled into me, the weight of his pride or disappointment riding on my shoulders. I pulled the trigger, shooting the fae in the back of the head with a fae bullet, watching his head explode like a watermelon. I almost vomited.

  But I couldn’t deny a strange buzz I got—the energy in that moment between life and death. A morbid fascination. I thought a lot about that moment since.

  Sergeant Bakos kept reminding us the fae wouldn’t falter, would slaughter us without pause as they had done to my father and so many others.

  My fingers wrapped around the handle of the weapon, the power of it bringing me back to the present, the gun heavy in my hand, my finger pulling the trigger on the blond guard.

  Kill or be killed.

  A figure slammed into mine, bones crunching. The main guard, Sloane, hurtled us over the bed, flipping it with a piercing crash. The metal scraped and skidded on the floor, sounding like an explosion. Sloane’s bulk slammed down on me, yanking my body and arm in opposite directions. My wrist twisted, the cuff pulling my arm back up in the air from the rail of the bed. A cry whimpered in my throat as I tried to wiggle away from him.

  “Don’t. Move,” the massive guard barked down at me, his eyes glowing with anger. He climbed off me, his head shaking. “Did you really think you could escape? You foolish idiot.”

  Roughly, he yanked me to my feet, his eyes moving over me. He took in my exposed figure, his nose flaring, his body reacting to mine. Aroused. Rumor was sex and being naked were natural to fae, as natural as breathing. Seemed the gossip was true.

  “You’re bleeding,” he grumbled, his eyes still hot on me, while his brow furrowed. I felt the warm liquid trickle down my abdomen, where my wound had torn open in the fight. Noticing my lack of movement, he twisted my gown around, covering me and pressing the fabric into the pooling blood. “Clean her up. Some will smell the fresh human blood and go crazy.” Sloane rolled his shoulders back, nodding to the healer to come over, moving away from me.

  She hadn’t liked me before; now I knew she really wished she let me die.

  “Vale.” Sloane nodded at the blond fae, his lavender gaze slidin
g back to me sternly. “Keep tight. She is more skilled than they led us to believe.”

  “Yes, she is.” Vale chuckled, stepping up to me. “Most grown men, fae or human, pee their pants when we show up.” He pressed the gun I’d briefly held into my temple while the healer dressed my wounds. “You are a spirited one. Gave me a little rush, human.”

  I didn’t respond. My torso was on fire as the healer crudely patched my injury again. It took my entire focus to keep conscious and standing. I clenched my teeth to wall off the vomit threatening to come up my throat. The shot she gave me made me feel the pain like a train tunneling through my veins.

  Don’t pass out. Don’t throw up.

  “Connor, let them know we’re coming.” Sloane nodded to the dark-haired soldier. He nodded and muttered into a handheld device, a cross between a walkie-talkie and mobile phone. Very high-tech, especially in these parts. Our soldiers only got them when they were out in the field, and ours were antiques and cheap compared to what these guys had.

  The moment the healer was done, Sloane unlatched me from the bed and cuffed both my wrists behind my back, shoving me forward. My heart thumped, and my legs wobbled. Anger at myself bristled at the back of my neck. I had been so close. I had a chance, and I failed.

  Hesitated.

  I had no more energy left to fight, having burned it up in those few seconds. My chance to escape was gone. Burying the sob building in my throat, I let the three guards move me to the door.

  “Human,” the healer called out to me, my head twisting to her. A cruel grin curled up her face. “You aren’t going to last a week, but every second you are going to wish I took pity on you and let you die.”

  A blur of exquisite details, carvings, and paintings covered every inch of the large space they moved me through, suggesting it had once been used as a church. All the symbols of the old human religion were gone. The fae believed in honoring all the gods and goddesses, which was a value quickly spreading to the human youth. Those who were older still held on to their beliefs of one god. I didn’t buy into either. I believed in myself, my family, and my friends.

  The men rushed me through the large wooden doors, the sun dipping behind the breathtaking courtyard we crossed. The air was warmer, the evening sun painting the clouds pink. Summer had decided to finally peek through the chilly spring. On a night like this, all the cadets would group together out on the patio at the HDF bar after training, getting tipsy, absorbing the balmy twilight, giggling, flirting, and having fun. Were they there now? Was I already a fading memory to them? A warning tale to tell the new recruits.

  “Move it.” Sloane yanked my arm through the köztér, the plaza, where shops, hotels, business, dwellings, and cafes lined the meticulous square as if life here never changed twenty years ago. It was still thriving in freedom and pleasures. Nicely dressed figures milled around, chatting and laughing, enjoying the beautiful evening, but going quiet when they caught sight of the four of us. This area didn’t strike me as a place that saw a lot of bleeding, barely dressed humans escorted by an elite squad.

  It was far nicer than Leopold, everywhere there were buildings maintained with new paint, pristine roads, and fresh flowers. Our side crumbled behind the patchwork façade we put up.

  The fae guards directed me across the square. I knew exactly where I was, recognizing the buildings from so many years of staring at them from the other side of the river or from old books Istvan had me study. There was no mistaking the taste of my city; Budapest curled on my tongue like comfort food. Cool wind rolled over the ornate buildings, smelling like the Danube, like home.

  Tense and alert, they hustled me around the corner. I gasped at the view, struck by the beauty of the whitewashed mini castles and walkways overlooking the river, seeing the true beauty this close.

  I’d looked out at this view many times from my high perch on HDF. But I had stared at the fairy-tale-looking buildings across the water, the white dreamlike spires and turrets, romantic and beautiful, reminiscent of fables humans used to think of as fairy tales.

  “Fairy” had a different connotation now, and it was nothing I wanted to be part of.

  What used to be called Fishermen’s Bastion was now coined Killian’s Bastion, after the arrogant fae leader. The neo-Gothic-Romanesque terrace was situated high on the Buda bank, Killian’s Castle a little distance away. Through the ornate towers, the lights of HDF glowed in its majestic beauty. I had never seen it from this side, the glorious building causing a sob to hitch my throat.

  As the men shoved me forward, I kept my eyes on it. My home. My sanctuary. My heart.

  Caden.

  My soul screamed for him. For him to feel me. Somehow see me. Was he sitting up at our spot now? Thinking about me? Staring over, not even realizing I was right here? Did he know I was alive? Were they trying to get me back? Was Istvan trying to make a deal for me? Istvan was cold and tough, but I knew he cared about me. Caden certainly wouldn’t let me go; he’d make Istvan fight for me. Maybe Rebeka would also.

  A bit of hope buzzed inside me as the guards walked toward a black SUV. For a moment, I believed Istvan would be sitting inside, motioning for me to get in. My heart sank when they shoved me past it, keeping me close as we marched down the street.

  “Where are we going?” Fear choked me. What was ahead of me? Maybe they were going to kill me after all.

  “Your new home.” Vale smirked, pressing his gun harder into my back.

  About to turn down an alley, I yanked my head around, getting my last glimpse of the HDF’s dome, my heart breaking into pieces. The historic building twinkled in the darkening sky, so familiar and lovely—my old friend.

  This was the last time I would see my home, smell the musty scent of the Danube, feel the wind roll over my skin.

  I understood where I was going.

  The place feared by HDF soldiers more than anything.

  Halalház—Death house.

  The fae prison was dubbed the House of Death for a reason.

  Captives went in...and never came out.

  Chapter 9

  Since no one ever returned from the House of Death, no one could expose the location. Theories and speculation buzzed around HDF. Istvan sent out spies, but so far, those scouts either never came back or never located it. It wasn’t at the top of our priority list compared to all the other things we had to worry about, so this feared place remained unknown to us.

  Sloane pulled me down the cobbled streets, Vale behind me, Connor in front.

  It was strange to think tourists used to stroll freely through this area at one time, while now only a handful of the older human soldiers could recall what this area had once looked like. If you were wealthy enough, you could try looking up pictures on the internet, but Killian had blocked most for security reasons, along with live-action maps.

  Just as our side did.

  I was getting to see what few had seen in person.

  We were not very far from Killian Bastion or the castle when Sloane stopped us in front of a building. It appeared similar to an ordinary attached house, painted a buttery yellow with an arched metal door at the entrance. A single guard stood outside. He opened the door the moment he spotted Sloane, exposing a set of steep stairs leading down.

  Connor greeted him without a pause, heading down the stairs, the rest of us following, my bare feet slapping against the cool cement steps. I flinched as the door slammed behind me, the sound of my fate, my heart thumping in my throat.

  When we got to the bottom of the dark space, the temperature was chilly, the air musty, feeling like a cellar.

  My gaze absorbed the low cave ceiling and arched passages. It was dark, dank, and windowless with various rooms and spaces everywhere. The suffocation of being trapped underground burrowed into my lungs, causing them to move in and out frantically. We passed fountains and statues, and one gated space painted with the gruesome image of a man on the back wall.

  Vlad the Impaler.

  Dracula.


  “This is the Labyrinth?” It was something you heard about, our elders telling stories of its existence, but to my generation, it had become a story. History said it had been used for various things throughout the years, even to imprison the man whose picture hung on the wall. However, before our country was divided, at constant war between humans and fae, it was a cheesy tourist attraction.

  The fae squad led me down more stairs hidden in a cove, away from the tourist area, going deeper into the Labyrinth. In the darkness, my lungs tightened, my pulse racing.

  More soldiers greeted us at the bottom, where another gate was erected, blocking off what appeared to be a pitch-black tunnel. “Need entry through. Dropping off prisoner 85221.”

  “Yes, sir.” A young woman bowed her head at Sloane. Pulling on gloves, she unlocked the gate—a sign the bars were made out of pure iron. Most fae species had a weakness, not that we had figured them all out, but to Fairies, one was pure iron.

  I didn’t think it was a coincidence the weakness for the highest ruling class of fae was widely known. It wasn’t just humans who didn’t like the fae pyramid and wouldn’t mind seeing the fay topple from the peak.

  The gate clanked and cracked open, jolting me back to my current situation, dipping my knees. Sloane gripped me harder, yanking me through. Fire-bulbs dotted the walls; motion sensors ignited the path a few yards in front of us as we continued to move. The gate slammed behind us, and my heart jumped into my throat.

  Nothing about this made sense. “I don’t understand. I thought we were going to the prison.” I looked over at Vale.

  “We are.” A cruel grin parted his mouth, showing off his white teeth. “Just a little farther.”

  “What?” I gulped. We were right below the castle grounds, not where the infamous and terrifying legend of the Halalhaz should be. Istvan was convinced it was in the Zugliget area, near the Tündér Mountain quarry, which made sense. Out far enough from the city, but still close, with minimal population in the area. It was an ideal place for a prison.