Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 267

Chapter 267 Lisa: Waking to War

A tiny hand shakes me awake with incongruous force, something I'd attribute to King Kong and not the gnomes who've been sheltering me and teaching me about magitech since my escape.

Groaning, I pull my blanket over my head. I'm too tired. "Go away."

"Wake, wake, lazy girl! The war has come!"

The wizened old housekeeper—it has to be her, because no one else treats me like an unruly pig—yanks my covers off and slaps at my legs. "Hurry up, or die here alone!"

War?

Die?

My brain isn't functioning yet, but I stumble out of bed as she throws some clothes at me. "Dress! Hurry! Boots too!" Those are tossed at my feet, bruising my pinky toe in a way that has me hissing and hopping on one foot. "No time, you lazy girl! Get moving!"

Uncertain of what's going on but recognizing that her anxiety level is sky high, I throw on a clean shirt and jeans that they must have sourced from humans. Too bad they didn't bring a bra, too.

But at least there's socks.

Shoving my feet into them, the gnarled woman shoves at me until I fall onto my ass on the bed. "Put this on," she snaps, throwing a coat at me.

"Okay, okay. Hold on. You haven't even explained what's happening!"

"War!" she snaps. "Hurry!"

Despite her gruff demeanor, she kneels to shove my boots on as I shrug on the coat, two sizes too big and—I double check what I'm feeling strapped in some hidden pockets—armed. With knives.

In fact, they seem to fit the term dagger more than knife.

The Grand

who's taken me under his wing and owns this place. He's some sort of high-falutin' to-do in the gnome community. They don't explain a lot,

her name, but I'm not allowed to call her that. No, it's always Mistress

real title, but it's definitely what she

"Mistress Keeper, I don't—"

understand, then shut your face," she hisses. "This isn't the time

questions bubbling up inside me. Even I'm not brave—or stupid—enough to challenge Elverly. That tiny terror has no qualms about doling out pain

corridors no longer bewilders me. After perusing a map for hours on end, I

the moment, as I'm dragged

I stumble, my heart leaping into my throat.

gravelly voice

into a run, my longer legs having to put in a surprising amount of effort

the kind that chill your blood and raise the hairs on the back of your

War.

earlier words echo in my head, taking on a horrifying new meaning. I'd thought she meant some sort of far-off conflict, a theoretical threat that

Not a war here.

Not a war now.

of our situation slams into me as we careen down a flight of stairs. The basement. We're heading to the basement, where

we burst into the room. Without a word, he ushers us toward what he calls

his usual calm demeanor cracking under the

Panels shift, mechanisms engage, and the space around us shrinks. It's like being inside a giant, mechanical Rubik's cube as it solves

finally stops, we're left in a space so cramped I can barely sit. Standing is out of the question, and

heavy as we all breathe into this tiny space, sharing the mingled scents of oil, metal, and fear. I struggle to control my breathing, trying not to give in to the claustrophobia clawing at the

since my escape. I don't like

I whisper, unable to keep silent

weariness and resignation. "War has come to our doorstep, child. Those unhappy with

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