Prince of Ash and Shadow: Prince of Ash and Shadow #1 by K.A. Erickson

Author:K.A. Erickson [Erickson, K.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Crook
Published: 2022-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

The rest of the ride passes in silence, each of us dozing on and off. Ren and I take shifts driving, and the Faeries in the back grow noticeably greener as the ride wears on. Soon, we’re stopping at every few gas stations, ditching cars left and right to keeps the cops off our tail, and accommodate their iron sickness. Millie meows pitifully, motion sick herself, and vomits on Rayden’s boots. This prompts me to spend the next two hours of the ride squished between the men in the back, the prince’s legs atop mine, as I lean forward and take a cheap paper towel to his soles.

“This sucks,” I hiss.

“She’s your cat,” Rayden counters.

“Prick. If I move my elbow to the left a little bit—”

Rayden catches my arm. “Don’t you dare.”

I cackle as the car slows to a stop. Then, I toss the garbage into a plastic bag, swearing the entire time. Rayden puts his boots back on the car floor and smirks.

“We’re here,” Ren murmurs as we pull up a cracked concrete driveway, the only break in the middle of rolling plains.

I snag Millie and stuff her into the carrier as she claws my hands, and then push open the car door. The guys scramble to keep up with me as I plow up the driveway toward the house, where frozen flowers and wilted weeds line the front. The sad siding is caked in dirt, and a lamppost with a broken bulb is covered in spiderwebs. Ren jogs beside me. “You sure someone lives here? This place is a shithole.”

“She’s here,” I murmur.

I power up the rusty, wooden steps, which creak with every movement. An old chair rocks in the window, and Ren casts a wary glance at it. Behind me, Rayden has his hand pressed lightly to the small of my back, a silent reassurance. As I knock on the door, I realize that a small part of me trusts them. Not enough to spill all my secrets, to uncover the pain of my past, but enough that I’m counting on them to have my back if shit goes sideways.

The door creaks open, and the barrel of a shotgun is leveled with my face.

I twist my hand around it and croon: “Hello, Mother.”

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