Unmade (Unborn #4) - Amber Lynn Natusch Page 0,16

so bad.” He released me and headed for the exterior door. “This is the warehouse. It is home to the PC of Chicago.”

“I need to get Oz,” I said, concern surging through my foggy mind. “You must take me there.”

“Where?” Trey asked. His monotonous voice battled with the concern furrowing his brow. I opened my mouth to explain but could not. There was no way to give detailed directions there unless I could navigate while traveling, and given the nature of his gift, that would not be possible. “I cannot take you somewhere I have not been or you cannot explain…”

My body went tight as I fought to find the words necessary to direct my waiting brother. Then an idea struck.

“Is Muses here?” I asked. Trey nodded.

As if summoned by my question, Muses emerged from the warehouse, a wicked smile on his face as always.

“Sister. I hoped you would be coming—”

“Wherever you see in my mind, can you make him see it?” I asked, interrupting him.

Muses frowned, either upset by my question or my lack of proper greeting.

“Where must you go?”

“To my former home above.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oz is there.”

“Yes.”

“I see…” He shook his head. “I cannot do what you ask, Khara, but not because I do not want to.”

Trey looked at me expectantly. “Is there somewhere near there you can go and then travel the rest of the way by flight?”

Yes. There was.

“Take me near Apollo’s Oracle. It is close enough.”

Again, Trey nodded, then reached for my hand. Muses pulled me away before he could touch me.

“Khara, do be careful. The Fates will be very disappointed if you get yourself killed or captured before they have a chance to meet you.”

“I shall do my best not to, then.”

His smile widened at my words, and he stepped away so Trey could take my hand. In a flash of darkness and disorientation, we landed near the woods I had long called home. With the trees too thick to navigate by air and the threat of Dark Ones in the sky, Trey and I ran toward the cabin, my heart tightening with every step. I had been away far longer than I had planned, leaving Oz vulnerable as he healed. My guilt fueled my pace as we wound through the trees. Trey kept up silently, his head swiveling at every sound the forest made. It was clear from his reactions that he was not familiar with nature like I was.

“We are nearly there,” I said between breaths. “Once we have Oz, you must return us to the warehouse.”

He nodded in response.

A few minutes later, the magically camouflaged cabin came into view. I slowed to a stop a few yards away, and Trey looked at me with curiosity.

“You cannot see it until you go inside,” I explained. “Once you have, you will know it if you ever return—and more importantly, it will know you.”

Without question, my quiet brother followed me to the invisible-to-him door and into the small space. His eyes went wide with shock as he took in the sight—including the Dark One standing next to the bed, seething with anger.

“Perhaps you should keep watch, Brother,” I said, as Oz’s narrowed eyes attempted to eviscerate me.

The sound of the door closing told me we were alone.

“Are we back to this again?” I dared to ask, walking toward him. The harsh snap of his black wings blocked out the wall behind him and sliced through the bed, releasing a cloud of down and dust. I halted my approach.

“We agreed—”

“You said I was not going anywhere without you. I neither agreed nor argued. That is not the same thing.”

His jaw flexed with frustration. “And what about us bringing the world to its knees when I woke up?”

I shrugged. “Shall we do that now?”

In a flash of predatory grace, he was upon me, pressing my back into the wall, his wings caging us in.

“We’re going to do something now,” he said, his eyes scanning me. When they finally fell upon my mouth, I felt my lips part of their own volition.

“We need to go to Chicago,” I said, my voice low and huskier than normal. “Trey has taken my brothers there. We are to return and devise a plan—”

“We,” he said, pressing hard against my body—so hard that it was difficult to breathe—“are not through here.” In that moment, I could not decipher his intentions—if he meant to punish me or pleasure himself. Perhaps the two were not mutually exclusive.

“I had to protect my brothers,”