Well, things have definitely gone downhill, but there's plenty more to come! Now that Shion's officially been captured, he might need to cash in that favor that Nezumi owes him. But what does cashing in the favor mean, and what horrors await them in the Unseelie Court? We shall find out soon enough!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"You're late."

"Just be grateful I'm here at all, Scorpia."

Shion's head swam as the world slowly bled back into focus around him. His eyelashes stuck together, and it was an effort to try and pry them apart. The edges of his vision blurred gray and dark red as he opened his eyes.

He was slung over a broad shoulder, as if he were nothing more than a sack of flour being carried to the market. The smell of cigarette smoke struck him in the face, and Shion groaned. His stomach churned at the overwhelming stench; he felt nauseous and confused and almost as if he'd been dragged out of a pool of frozen mud.

Shion's first instinct was to kick his legs. He attempted—but something prevented him from moving. An arm wrapped over his hips, holding him in place. His limbs ached, too heavy to move. All he could manage was a brief twitch of his right leg, closest to his captor's chest.

"This has nothing to do with gratitude," snarled a voice. It was low and raspy, and Shion's heart hammered with terror at the sound of it. "Our King gave you an order, Rikiga, and you are expected to obey."

"Yeah, yeah." Shion's captor shifted beneath him. Shion's senses, dulled from whatever drug his captor had smothered on his face, picked up the sudden brush of cool autumn wind. "As long as he keeps his word."

"Our King cannot lie."

"Hmph."

Shion's chest stuttered as he was suddenly pulled from his spot on his captor's shoulders. He gasped, his breath bursting around him in a cloud of pale silver, and then his feet landed on the ground.

He staggered back, but the man's hands kept him steady. Shion's stomach reeled; he was desperate to shove the man's hands away from him, even if it meant he'd collapse on the ground. This man had stolen him from his mother's bakery. Shion wanted nothing to do with him.

The man—Rikiga, Shion recalled, the hissing voice echoing in his mind—gave him a pitiful look. He seemed almost apologetic for what he'd done, but Shion didn't have it in him to feel sorry for this man.

"Your services will be needed no further tonight, Rikiga," came the hissing voice, just beyond Shion's back. A hand clamped on his right bicep, and Shion froze as he shifted from one captor to the next.

"Tell that bastard he'd best keep his word." Rikiga reached into the pocket of his ratty black jacket and produced a long, thin cigarette. He lit it with a flick of a lighter he seemed to pull out of thin air, and took a long drag. "After the Equinox, he won't bother me for half a year."

"Yes," the voice snarled. "Although I will assume you wish me to omit that title you've disrespected him with."

"Do or don't," Rikiga spat. "I don't fucking care anymore."

"Oh, you do." The owner of the hissing voice leaned in close, the brush of its breath tickling the back of Shion's neck. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything more than shudder as the voice taunted, "You do."

Rikiga clicked his tongue, but didn't argue.

With one last pitiful look in Shion's direction, Rikiga stuck the cigarette between his lips, jammed his hands into his pockets, and disappeared down the sidewalk.

Shion stared out at his surroundings. He recognized Kronos in the distance, the tall buildings with their run-down walls and streetlights glinting at irregular angles. He was standing on what seemed to be the sidewalk in front of a large house and a yard. Confusion prickled through him. He'd been anticipating a cave in the woods, or a segment of underground tunnels with wormholes and glowing mushrooms.

I'm... still in Kronos?

Hope exploded through Shion like a shot of medicine. If he was still near Kronos, then there was a chance he could escape. If he could break free of the captor Rikiga had handed him over to, then he could run all the way back to the bakery.

Shion gasped as his new captor whirled him around. The sky reeled above him, and Shion's stomach twisted as if he was going to be ill.

He caught sight of his new captor and his mouth went dry.

A massive goat glared back at him. Its piercing golden eyes pinned him in place, two massive horns curling from the top of its head and swooping around its cheeks. Its fur was several shades darker than its irises, but the most striking was that it was impossibly tall and dressed in soot-black armor.

The word Phooka slapped Shion upside the head like an unsharpened sword. He hadn't seen many of them—Phookas were mountain Folk, and Shion hadn't been in the mountains before. There were a couple who'd ventured down into Kronos, but they were much shorter than the monster that towered in front of him. The beast standing before him looked as if it would stand taller than two Phookas stacked on top of each other.

The Phooka glared down at Shion. Behind it rose a massive, run-down house. Beyond the house, Shion couldn't imagine what horrors awaited him. Faeries sometimes took up residence in abandoned buildings, but to have a Court stationed inside one? Shion had never heard of anything so strange.

"Welcome, mortal," growled the Phooka. It opened the door to the run-down house, and Shion's heart sank. Beyond the cracked front door was a massive torture chamber, the walls covered with a variety of tools and instruments of misery. Blood stained the floor, a variety of colors and consistencies. Shion's blood chilled as the Phooka dragged him inside the house and said, "Welcome to the Unseelie Court."

To Be Continued...