Black Briar Read Online Free PDF Page B

copper.
     
    The shoes slipped from her fingers. Fell and plopped into the water with a harsh, unattractive splatter. Then, they sank to the bottom. Eaten. She stood on that bridge, overlooking what had to be the River Styx and then, in the grand tradition of troubled teens everywhere, she’d cursed the oh-so-cruel-world and flung herself into the mist. Other people would’ve jumped. Leapt. Not Sybille. She threw herself into oblivion without a single regret.
     
    Her hair tore at her face but her arms were wide open. Diving from the sky like a one woman fleet of white dragons. She should’ve hit the ground…eventually. It should’ve been painted with her shit, blood, and organs. She should’ve been swallowed. Known peace.
     
    I can’t breathe.
     
    A shadow darkened over her, the swish of wings cutting the air.
     
    And when she opened her eyes…
     
    There. A monster shooting toward her like star. He was a silver bullet with his wings pinned back as he gathered speed, pointed at her like a dead albatross plastered on the front of a ship. Fearless.
     
    She couldn’t see him clearly. They were moving too fast. But she couldn’t help the impression that he was staring. Watching her through somber tresses thrashing in the winds. In his bottomless eyes, the end wasn’t rapidly approaching. Like they had all the time in the world. Maybe, forever.
     
    Grey angel cutting through a starless sky and a girl with weary hair swept up in the inertia of her endless fall.  
     
    Index fingers connected.
     
    A chipped black finger nail kissed a pointed gray claw. Creation.
     
    To this day, she didn’t understand why she’d reached out for him—all she could see was a tidal wave of hair and ash skin. She didn’t have a clue who or what he was. Didn’t have an idea why he might care. But as he’d hauled her into the safety of his embrace and unfolded massive arched wings, swooping up into the twilight she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe an angel had been cast out of the heavens just for her. At last.
     
    “Do you remember what you said, witch?” Nova’s voice filtered through her memories.
     
    That night. After they’d landed, somewhere far away from the harsh city lights. Somewhere where there was moonlight and vibrant blue grass, flowers and candy-striped butterflies.
     
    Deep in the wiles of New Gotham’s cursed forest, they’d exchanged very few words but as they’d knelt next to Acheron Creek, desire red lilies were carried away in a procession of oriental funeral lanterns, and she’d taken his hand and said, “I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”
     
    The words were simple. There was certainly nothing graceful or awe-inspiring about them. They shouldn’t have the weight they still did, but they rolled off her tongue like lead and she recoiled from an internal wince.
     
    Memories faded, dust to dust, and she jerked back. Free. “The old woman is probably waiting…”
     
    “No.” He pushed off her ridiculous nurse hat and it clattered to the floor. “The Hag sent Sybille here,” he reminded.
     
    “Why?” Her eyebrows squished and venom tainted the tip of her tongue. “Why did she send me here? What was the pact?”
     
    “You will spend the night here. And the Hag will validate her promise in return. Honestly, I’m surprised by her cooperation,” he answered. His eyebrow furrowed, faint crow’s feet crinkling the corners of his slanted eyes. Pensive. “She does not favor our arrangement, I thought.”
     
    Sybille rubbed the impending migraine throbbing against her temple. “She doesn’t but according to her, you’re better than a tumble with Rumpel.”
     
    “Sybille! Don’t rhyme!” came Socrates’ disembodied voice. “It embarrasses me!”
     
    “Goddamn it, Socrates!” She swatted at nothing, like he’d be stupid enough to harass her and stay within arm’s reach. “I’ll rhyme about Rumpel however the f—”
     
    “Sybille.” Nova flashed fangs cut from raw black