Chasing Wishes

  Remember that, Harlynn. You don’t need anyone. You’re tough. You can handle this.

  Sucking in an inhale, I push away from the wall and square my shoulders. Then I leave the alley and start down the road, heading in the direction that leads back toward the entrance of the city. When I get there, I’ll hike back through the woods, sneak into the guys’ vehicle, and steal that demon’s soul they stole earlier. Then I’ll hack into their computers and find out what else I need so I can steal the Steel books. Sure, a lot could go wrong, and I highly doubt it’s going to be that easy, but it’s better than tracking Asher, East, and Arrow down and pathetically begging them to help me. No, I refuse to do that.

  After I pull off my amazing plan and have the Steel books in my hands, I’ll see if Asher is ready to dissolve the bargain. If not, I guess I’ll still be stuck with him, East, and Arrow. Or, maybe I should say, they’ll be stuck with me. But if I’m correct about East and Arrow ditching me, I doubt Asher will have a problem dissolving the bargain.

  Still, as okay as I’m pretending to be, as I backtrack with my head held high, I can’t help noticing the slight twinge gnawing at the center of my chest, right where my heart is beating. A twinge that feels an awful lot like heartache. Heartache over what? I’m unsure.

  Or maybe I just don’t want to admit the reason to myself. Admit that perhaps I was starting to like Asher, East, and Arrow just a little bit.

  Admit that them bailing out on me hurts like an evil demon bitch.

  Chapter 6

  Okay, so maybe I was a bit overconfident when I thought I’d just stroll on back to the guys’ vehicle and put my plan into motion, something I learn when I run into my first obstacle. Aka a sassy elf and his droning cyborg sidekick.

  “You look lost,” the elf sneers as he emerges from the shadows of an alleyway nestled between a bar and a robotic arm repair shop.

  The cyborg steps out behind him, the gadgets in his arms rotating as he crosses his arms and stares me down with shadowy eyes that are so much duller than Arrow’s. And unlike Arrow, this cyborg lacks emotion, his expression blank, his eyes hollow.

  The elf, however, is sparkling with glee as if he just stumbled upon a buried treasure.

  I recall how East compared me to an elf once, at least in terms of cleverness, but then added how I didn’t look like one. I’ve never actually seen an elf up close, and while I prefer not to act vain, a bit of relief trickles through me knowing I don’t resemble the … Well, how do I put this nicely? The icky creature standing in front of me.

  Rounding in at an average height with wrinkly, damp skin, and a long, pointy nose, the elf isn’t attractive. He also has a giant mole on his cheek where long hairs are growing out of it like whiskers. His brows look like caterpillars, and sharp, yellow teeth hang out from his grey lips.

  “I’m not lost,” I reply with confidence. “Now, please step out of my way, or else I’ll have to make you. And trust me; I don’t think that’s going to be a pleasant experience for either one of us.” I shudder at the mental image of having to put my hands on his moist-looking skin.

  “You can try, but you won’t succeed.” He nods at the cyborg then gives me a shit-eating grin. “L’s my bodyguard.”

  “Your name is L?”

  When the cyborg nods, I shake my head.

  Man, Arrow really is one of a kind, isn’t he?

  “What’s wrong with L?” the elf prods.

  “It’s boring as fuck,” I state bluntly, folding my arms and pretending to be way more chill than I am.

  Dammit, why didn’t I bring a weapon with me?

  Because I was stupidly distracted by East and Arrow!

  “Yeah? So what?” the elf replies, his face contorted in perplexity. “Cyborgs are boring as fuck and, therefore, need boring names.”

  “Not all of them are boring,” I disagree. “And maybe if you gave him a better name, he’d be more exciting.”

  The elf rolls his eyes. “If you believe that, then you’re more naïve than I first assessed.”

  “I’m not naïve at all,” I argue, moving to step around them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me …”

  The cyborg moves lightning quick, blocking my path and grabbing my arm.

  “You’re not going anywhere yet.” The elf circles around me, his cape trailing along the ground. “Not until you answer a couple of questions.”

  “I’m not doing shit,” I grit out, trying to wiggle my arm from the cyborg’s grip, but holy giants, he’s strong.

  “If you want to walk away from this, you’ll cooperate.” The elf stops beside the cyborg and flashes me a yellow, crooked-teethed smirk.

  I roll my eyes. “Like that scares me. You’re an elf. All you’re good at is sneaking into places. You have no strength and hardly any powers.”

  He smiles darkly at me. “I have L, who is perfectly capable of ripping you apart with his hands. And he’s very obedient.”

  I glance up at L, who’s watching me expressionlessly. “You know, you don’t have to obey him. You could just walk away. Your life would be better if you did.”

  L doesn’t utter a word.

  I jerk on my arm again, and L’s grip constricts, his fingers squeezing my arms so forcefully I wince. I lift my leg to kick him in the shin, but the impact against his metal leg rattles my entire body.

  Cursing the liquid sky, my gaze snaps to the elf. “What do you want to know?” I snarl, wondering why my powers haven’t manifested.

  If East’s theory is correct about my emotions bringing them out, then the ground should be quivering with my rage. But the air around me is still. Then again, my powers have been kind of flaky, surfacing whenever they feel like it.

  When a cocky grin consumes the elf’s face, I curl my fingers into fists.

  “I want to know if you landed on this planet with the band known as Ash East Arrow,” he says.

  My brow arches. “What are you? A groupie?”

  The elf snorts a laugh. “Fuck no. Not even close.” He inches toward me. “Just answer the question, little lost lamb.” He leans forward and sniffs my hair.

  I slant away. “No, I landed here on me—”

  I gasp at the cyborg wraps his metal fingers around my throat.

  “Do not try to lie to me, little lamb,” the elf warns, poking me in the side. “Now, I’m going to ask one more time and you better tell the truth, or L’s going to lose his patience.”

  I struggle for air as I glare up at L. Lose his patience? He looks bored out of his mind.

  The elf paces the narrow width of the alleyway with his hands clasped behind his back. “Now, did you land on this planet with the band Ash East Arrow?”

  “Maybe …” I gasp, reaching up and gripping the cyborg’s hand wrapped around my neck. “So fucking what if I did?”

  He grinds to a stop, grinning, clearly pleased. “So, you’re friends with them then?”

  I choke out a wheezy laugh. “Yeah, I don’t do the whole friendship thing. It never works out well for me.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “If you’re not friends with them, then why are you traveling with them?”

  “I’m their assistant,” I lie through a wheeze.

  The elf examines his fingernails. “Assistants never travel with bands.”

  “Well, I do.” I stab my fingernails into L’s hands in a lame attempt to escape.

  “Just answer his questions truthfully so I can let you go,” L tries to encourage.

  “Or you could just let me go,” I wheeze out.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t. He’s my master.”

  That’s the second time I’ve heard the term master used in the last several minutes, and I’m starting to question if planet Steel has a master/servant rule in play. But, how does one get labeled as a master and who becomes a servant?

  “I’m their assistant,” I lie again, the world around me blurring as I grow lightheaded.

  Silence grasps the air, except for the sound of my wheezing.


  Dumbass elves. I’m going to pass out …

  The elf sighs. “Let her go.”

  “Are you sure, master?” the cyborg asks, his fingers remaining around my neck. “I think she’s lying.”

  “Me, too, but it doesn’t really matter,” the elf says dismissively. “Whatever she is, she still has connections to the band. And right now, that’s all we need.”

  “Okay.” L suddenly loosens his grip, giving me hardly any time to react.

  One second, my feet are dangling from the ground, and the next, the cobblestone is biting into my knees.

  “A little warning would’ve been nice.” I scowl at L as I stumble to my feet and dust the dirt off my tights.

  He blinks confusedly at me. “What would I warn you about?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.” I reel around to run, but someone snags my arm. “Let me go,” I demand, throwing a glare over my shoulder at L, only to find that the elf has ahold of me. I cringe at the sight of his wet fingers folded around my arm. “I answered your questions, so get your hand off me.”

  “We need one more thing from you.” He tugs on my arm as he backs up down the alley with a delighted expression that makes my stomach churn.

  L walks closely behind me, gently pushing me forward with his metal palm.

  “L and I have been trying to track down Ash East Arrow for quite a while, but unfortunately, they have a protection spell on them that makes it so creatures like me have a hard time finding them.”

  “It protects elves from finding them? Because, from what I know, elves aren’t a threat to most creatures. Well, unless you …” I bite down on my tongue as a revelation hits me.

  Asher, East, and Arrow need my help to steal some powerful objects. And back when I broke into their vehicle, East mentioned he was worried the thief—aka me—might’ve been after their little rebellion collection. So, is that what this elf is after? They guys’ collection of powerful objects? It makes sense. Elves are known for thievery and their desire to obtain powerful objects. But, how does this elf plan on using me to get to Asher, East, and Arrow’s collection? Not that I’m about to ask him. No, the best way to play this is to pretend to be clueless and see if I can get him to accidentally spill his secrets.

  “Unless I what?” the elf presses as we step onto the same street where I lost track of East and Arrow.

  I lift a shoulder. “Unless you have an aversion to wrinkly, slimy skin.”

  He traces his tongue along his lips. “In my culture, the slimier the skin, the sexier you are.”

  I give a thumbs-up. “Good for you. But, in my culture, it means you’re icky and should probably take more showers.”

  He roughly yanks me to his side. “Elves don’t take showers. In fact, we rarely clean ourselves.”

  Vomit burns at the back of my throat. “Maybe L could hold on to my arm instead of you.”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t like the feel of my wet skin against your flesh.” The elf leans in, sniffs my hair, then lets out a fucking moan.

  I dry heave. “Oh, my gods, stop. Just stop.”

  “You say that now, but if you went for a ride on Mr. Tinkles, you’d be screaming the opposite.” He waggles his brows at me suggestively.

  “Did you seriously just refer to your dick as Mr. Tinkles? Because it’s a dumb fucking name.” I waver then smile at him sweetly. “Then again, it seems like it’d belong to something small, so it’s probably fitting.”

  Anger flares in his eyes as he delves his fingers into my flesh. “I assure you, it’s very, very big.”

  I fight back a cringe that wants to sweep through my body as his fingernails actually break through my skin. I’m seriously going to need a virus shot after this.

  “Considering how small your hands and feet are, I’m going to assume you’re lying to me, elf.”

  His lips twitch as he crowds my personal space. “How about we step into this inn and I’ll prove it to you? You think you can handle that, little lamb?”

  I have two ways I can approach this One, I can come back with a snide remark and continue letting him force me to go with him to where I’m guessing Asher, East, and Arrow are. Or two, I can challenge his request and hopefully distract him enough to bolt, find this Arch where the guys are, warn them an elf is looking for them, and then say peace out and go back to my mission of getting the Steel books for myself. Since I hate being forced to do shit, my gut instincts are telling me to go with option two. Not that I actually want to see Asher, East, and Arrow right now, but eventually, I’ll have to.

  “Fine, let’s go.” I smile and gesture at the inn. “Let’s see what you’ve got hiding underneath those … stained pants.” Gag me.

  His brows rise in surprise, but he hastily shakes off the shock. “You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you? I like it.”

  “Not as dirty as you,” I mutter. “Or your Mr. Tinkles.”

  He either ignores me or doesn’t hear me as he steers me across the street and toward the entrance of a two-story, brass building that has grimy windows, broken rain gutters, and a curtain for a door.

  Lovely. This place looks like a whorehouse.

  “Don’t look so frightened. It’s not as bad as it looks,” the elf says as he ducks under the dusty curtain, pulling me with him.

  As I take in the small room inside that has black ooze seeping from the cracks in the walls, I mutter, “I beg to differ.”

  Again, he makes no show of hearing me as he crosses the room, releasing my arm when we reach the front register where a rusty cyborg is standing and staring at the wall.

  I sneak a peek over my shoulder at the entrance, debating whether to run now or not, but L steps through the curtain and positions himself in front of the only exit, at least as far as I can see.

  Dammit! This is going to complicate my plan. But I guess I can always jump out the window when we get to the room, which sadly won’t be the first time I’ve had to do something like that.

  “I’d like one room for about an hour,” the elf tells the cyborg—the innkeeper. “I’m going to show this lovely, little thing what she’s been missing out on.”

  The innkeeper nods droningly as he reaches for a set of keys hanging on the wall. But, mid-turn, his gaze flicks in my direction and the strangest thing happens.

  His eyes briefly widen.

  Now, if it were any other creature, I wouldn’t think twice, but cyborgs don’t show surprise. Well, except for Arrow, but he’s a rarity and has a heart, so …

  “Here.” The innkeeper slaps a key down on the countertop, his gaze flicking to me again.

  “You seem awfully curious for a servant,” the elf remarks, collecting the key. “Stop looking at her, or I’ll report you to your master.”

  “He’s not here,” the innkeeper replies flatly, his eyes narrowing on the elf. “Your total is two steels. Please pay your fee and get on your way. I have other customers to attend to.”

  The elf’s jaw ticks as he stuffs his hand into his pocket and slaps two steel coins onto the countertop. “I’m not leaving you a tip,” he says, then grabs my hand and yanks me toward a slender, spiral staircase.

  The innkeeper remains expressionless until I pass him. Then his expression softens.

  “There’s a secret tunnel behind the armoire in the room,” he tells me. “Distract him then sneak out through it. It’ll lead you to the alleyway in back. When you get out there, go to the Arch. You’ll be safe there.”

  My eyes widen as I give a panicked glance at the elf, but he seems completely oblivious to what the cyborg said. That’s when I remember I can hear in different frequencies, including cyborgs. But, how did the innkeeper know that? And how in the hell does he know I know Arrow? Unless they were looking for me? Still, why would Arrow tell some random innkeeper about my strange ability of speaking and hearing in cyborg frequency?

  “Arrow is a friend of mine,” the innkeeper adds, as if reading my mind. “I would send word to him if I could that you’re here, but unfortu
nately, my master controls most of what I say and do. I can, however, let you know how to get yourself out of this mess, and from what Arrow told me, you should be able to.”

  Huh? When did Arrow tell this cyborg about me?

  I open my mouth to ask, but the elf yanks on my arm so forcefully I nearly trip and land on my face. Thankfully, I grasp the railing of the stairway and stop that from happening, because seriously, this place is gross, leaking ooze from the walls kind of gross.

  I hold on to the railing until we reach the top of the stairway. Then the elf starts down a hallway lined with numbered doors, towing me along with him.

  The area upstairs just might be dumpier than the downstairs. Holes cover the walls; most of the lanterns are out, making the space dark; and the sounds of moans, both of pleasure and of pain, haunt the air.

  I gulp down my jittery nerves, more than aware just how over my head I am.

  Sexual stuff has never been my forte.

  How am I going to get out of this?

  Before I can attempt to come up with an answer, the elf stops in front of a door.

  “Here we are,” he announces cheerfully as he slides the key into the lock.

  I stab my fingernails into my palms as he twists the handle, pushes open the door, and steps inside, already untying the collar of his cape.

  I throw a glance around the hallway, debating whether I should bolt back down the stairs and try to get past L. For all I know, the innkeeper could’ve been lying about the secret passage and, if so, that means I’ll be stuck up here with an elf who wants to screw me.

  As far as I can tell, there’re no windows around to escape out of, and while I like to think of myself as tough, elves do possess a smidgeon of magic. Then again, so do I.

  If I only I could control it.

  I take a deep breath and attempt to conjure up some shaky ground ninja powers, but again, nothing happens.

  “Come on; don’t be shy,” the elf says to me as he plops down on the edge of the bed and starts unlacing his boots.

  I’m not very trustful, especially with creatures I don’t know, so it takes a lot of effort for me to lift my foot over the threshold and step inside that room. The moment I do, I know I’m putting almost all my trust in the innkeeper I barely spoke to.