The Autumn Prince

Interlude: The Warren

Amalindis made her way through a grate at the back of the alley and stomped into a network of old pipes that led to the warren where Grimble had temporarily settled her clan. She had returned far past curfew and if Grim ordered the gates shut, she'd be spending the night fending off rats in the sewers or forced to find a safe spot in the bustling city above.

She was a lot more receptive toward other species than the rest of her kind and growing up with Callum had made her far less shy, but she was still a hob and wary around all strangers, particularly the random mob of humans who crowded the streets overhead, unaware of her existence. Amy cursed herself for not staying with Meg, or back on the island, after Rachel's party. She genuinely liked Tom and his little harem, and enjoyed the peace she felt with them, even though she knew Tom's chemistry was at least partly responsible for it. The fear that plagued her people simply had no power there, at least not for her, and if she could bottle that and take it with her, she'd tell Grimble where he could shove his rules, then find her own place. If Callum and Chloris could manage solo, so could she.

After a few minutes, her rebellious streak yielded once more to anxiety. Of course Grim would lock her out, and the rest of the clan, with whom she got along with perfectly well, wouldn't dare cross him. Family came first. It had been that way for thousands of years and it was hard wired into them. So what if it could be manipulated by an opportunistic prick who couldn't handle rejection?

Amy had a lot to offer, and she wasn't about to waste herself playing second fiddle to Grim. Hobs mated for life, that was fundamental biology, and no amount of willpower or independent spirit could change that. If she became his wife, she would gain nothing, and he'd use her skills as leverage against Finn to elevate their clan and his own prestige.

Turning the last corner, she could see, even in the darkness, that the iron gate wasn't just unlocked, it hung open. Idiot guards. Frans and Heiro were probably scheduled to watch the warren's main entrance and abandoned the job to steal food or liquor topside. Probably both. It was ballsy behavior for a hob, but it wouldn't be the first time. They should have at least had the sense to lock up before leaving their post.

She pushed it further open, enough to ease herself and her hardware through it without bumping into anything. Water dripped from somewhere, but apart from that, no noise issued from the chambers ahead. The clan must be on an errand, or Grimble had put everyone on lockdown. Nonsense, thought Amy. Nothing in the city was a threat to them, but their fearful leader would have everyone sitting on their hands for hours, playing it safe, just to massage his own fat ego.

The first room was empty. No surprise there. It was small and served no purpose other than as an antechamber for the guards. She'd done her share of gate duty since they settled in, and more than once had taken turns napping on that floor during shifts with her old friend, Prisiana.

The next chamber was also empty, a bigger room that linked common storage with the busier tunnels, and unease finally began to take hold. Even under a curfew, there should have been some noise, some traffic, but her only company was the persistent, unseen, drip, drip echoing in the distance. She wanted to call out to someone, but nature and conditioning kept her quiet.

Could Grim have taken everyone on a job? She didn't think so since she'd spent the day with Finn and she would have mentioned it. Had he moved the clan while she was out? It would be just like him to pull some sick shit like that, but it would be a major operation and wouldn't sit well with the others. She didn't think Grimble would risk it, and there was still makeshift furniture and other items that they'd have dismantled or taken with them to prevent discovery, but after passing two more empty rooms, she saw no other explanation. Finally, she stepped into the hall, the largest open space in the warren where the clan could assemble for meetings and events around a raised dais in the center.

If it weren't for the rusty pipes and dank water, she'd have smelled it sooner, but the sudden assault on her eyes and nose twisted a knot in her gut and she splashed sour bile and the remnants of the cake she'd eaten earlier in a savage mess at her feet.

Blood pooled in dark patches beneath the bodies it had once inhabited, their throats violently torn open. There were at least a dozen, but she couldn't tell who they were. She told herself the lie so she wouldn't have to acknowledge them while still in shock, but the orange, fringed vest belonged to Buskin, and Hilga's eel-skin thigh boots were impossible to miss.

Amy stepped carefully through the room with ice in her veins. Fear of death was one thing, but her people had lived with the reality of it for a long time and a corpse could no longer hurt you. These bodies were cold and pale, their blood, thick and sticky. They had died several hours ago.

A narrow side room contained more corpses, including the clan's five children, which brought another round of vomiting. Grimble's brutally torn remains lay in its doorway. He'd gone down fighting, protecting them, and a defiant snarl remained on what was left of his face. A surge of pride and regret buried her animosity toward him, and with an idle part of her mind, she wished it had taken something less than a massacre to bring out the nobility within him.

Feelings of fear and horror had abandoned her along with the contents of her stomach, and Amy was left with a somber determination. She'd call for help eventually, but not even Finn or Gold could turn back the clock. The dead would remain dead, and she'd give in to her grief in time.

There were bodies in five more chambers, accounting for all but a handful of her clan. Some may have escaped, but she continued searching the remaining rooms, praying for survivors.

"Hello!" she called out and her voice echoed back futility. The dorms were empty, as was Grimble's larger bedchamber, the bathing rooms, and the latrines. When she peered through the door of the wide cooking hall, however, a shadow crouched silent and still in the dark, its back to the door.

"Hello?" she said again, and the figure twitched, acknowledging her voice, but it didn't turn around. Profound relief released Amy's held breath. She pulled a penlight from its thigh holster and turned it on.

"Pris?" she whispered. The girl wore a dress so covered in blood that it was barely recognizable as one of Prisiana's favorites. "What happened here?"

"Wasted... all gone..." the girl stuttered. Amy couldn't bring herself to rush forward, though the desire nearly burst through her chest. She peered closer, trying to take in the whole room without removing her eyes from her friend. "Are you hurt?"

"All w—wasted," she rasped, "So much... wasted. Need m—more," Her head hung low, matted hair draped across her face, "Give me more..."

"More what? Pris?"

"More!" Pris shouted, standing, her head jerking around so sharply Amy could hear the vertebrae pop. Desperately hungry eyes peered from within a face darkened and smeared with the gore that dripped from her bared teeth. A ravaged body lay motionless on the floor behind her. Amy hissed, taking a step back, as her dear friend lunged forward with terrifying speed, hindered only by the uncontrolled spasms wracking her body.

"More!" Pris cried again, anguish and rapture fighting for dominance, "Give me more!"

Amy was brave, but she wasn't a warrior, and her mind was unable to comprehend its own terror. She trembled as Pris closed the distance. At the last second, she turned and tried to run. Nobody in the streets above heard the screams that echoed through the storm drains.