Marked Prince - Michelle M. Pillow Page 0,63
out of here.”
“Jaxx, you can’t shift here. The Federation cannot see us in the city. It will undo all the progress we’ve made.” Payton pulled at Fiora’s arm, trying to get him to let go.
Fiora wanted to reassure him but couldn’t. In truth she didn’t know if it would be all right. “I think we need to listen to Payton. Doyen is dangerous. We can’t get into a fight with him here. He has too many followers.”
“Don’t stop walking,” Jaxx ordered Payton. “Get her out of this crowd.”
“I’ll protect her with my life,” Payton answered.
“I’m…” Jaxx’s words were lost as more shouts sounded.
Doyen’s men began pushing over tables and terrorizing the crowd. “Where are they? Find them!”
Jaxx finally released her hand. “I love you. I’m right behind you.”
“I love you,” Fiora answered.
Timelines came at her from all directions. After focusing on Doyen, she found it difficult to block out the onslaught of visions. She saw a man kissing a woman in a stolen embrace, only to have the ghost of the image replaced by children running through them.
Ash again fell like snow. Payton had a hold of her elbow and was guiding her through the city. Fiora wanted to turn and look for Jaxx, but she couldn’t see past the flurry of movement as visions overlaid reality. Several people ran down the street, screaming. Their translucent forms passed over two unaware children playing some kind of game in the dirt.
“We’re drawing attention.” Payton paused long enough to pull the cloak over Fiora’s head. “You look like I beat you bloody. Try not to glance up.”
Fiora saw a future where Payton was curled into a ball crying surrounded by darkness. She felt a wave of anguish wash over her from the woman.
“I’m sorry,” Fiora whispered in reaction to the pain.
“Not your fault,” Payton answered, clearly not understanding what Fiora referred to.
Before she could explain, the ash stopped falling. Fiora looked to the sky, waiting for the explosion. It didn’t come. Something prickled her senses.
Fiora pushed the cloak off her head and looked around the city street. A myriad of sounds from the murmur of conversation to a high-pitched laugh overtook her hearing.
“Du—o!” In the chaos of the present and future, a figure caught her notice. She smelled the faint trace of liquor from the forest.
“Come—” Payton began.
“No, wait.” Fiora dug in her heels and refused to follow.
The figure looked like so many others in the city. His eyes were rimmed with red, and he weaved on his feet. His mouth opened, and he angrily shouted something. Fiora tried to focus on his words.
“Du—o!”
Fiora focused harder, making the moment replay itself.
“Dulla! Where are you, woman?” The figure moved past them, and the smell became stronger. “Stupid whore. I’ll show you.”
Fiora pointed away from where Payton led them. “We have to go down there.”
“The alley? Many of them don’t come out on the other side. They’re dead ends. I don’t know what’s back there.” Payton shook her head. “Yevgen is this way. I need to get you out of the crowds.”
The princess again tried to correct their path.
“Trust me,” Fiora insisted, forcing Payton to walk with her since the woman wouldn’t let go of her. “This way.”
“If you say so.” Payton didn’t sound sure, but she darted ahead of Fiora to enter the alleyway first.
The visions happening in the alley were less active than the wider street. Fiora ignored the numerous future-trysting couples against the metal walls. The figure she was interested in was the man walking away from them.
The walkway was between the buildings with no doors on either side. The uneven width caused them to turn to the side to pass a few times. Old glass bottles and scrap metal littered the ground.
“Where are we going?” Payton asked.
“I don’t know. Follow him,” Fiora answered, pointing after the man.
“Follow who?” Payton glanced back at her. “There’s no one there.”
“Me. Follow me.” Fiora touched Payton’s arm to move her out of the way so she could take the lead.
Adrenaline pumped through her, and she found a renewed strength. The smell of liquor became more potent, the closer she came to the vision. Dulla’s drunken husband mumbled to himself, cursing his wife for running off, threatening to kill Brogan if he ever dared to show his face. Fiora already knew that the brother and sister would not be returning to Shelter City.
After what felt like a long walk, the figure finally stopped at a dead end. One of the metal canisters like the cat-shifters