by Eve Langlais
Usually she was fighting them and only getting a blur of action. When they died, they decomposed quickly.
This demon—much resembling a ghoul she’d seen hiding below ground in a place called the Ruins—raised his head. He turned a baleful red-eyed glare on them from a face all too human, if grotesque. The forehead stretched wide and slanted, the nose flattened and flaring at the nostrils. His lips were thin and pulled back over yellowed teeth, the tips of them pointed.
The eyebrows were jarring, thick and white, the ears rounded instead of ending in a point. But most fascinating of all, he spoke.
“Smells like dinner.” The words emerged in a raspy grumble, and his gaze fell on Casey, who resisted an urge to draw her knife.
“I don’t think so.” Roark’s tone emerged cold and firm.
“And who are you?” The raspy query came with the dark flick of a tongue.
“The man whose questions you’re going to answer. Starting with your name.”
“Fuck you.”
“Are you really going to play that game?” Roark shook his head. His gaze turned intent on the prisoner. She felt it when the darkness began to ooze from the king and focus on the ghoul hybrid. “Your name is Gus, and you’re not from around here, are you?”
It took Casey a moment to realize what Roark was doing. He’d plucked thoughts directly from the demon’s head. Easily, too.
“I’m from the north marshes,” Gus said.
“But you were caught coming from the east.”
“Got lost.” A smile on a demon was a horrible thing.
“He’s lying,” Titan grumbled.
“Yes and no.” Roark didn’t explain, but he did frown. “What do you want with Eden?”
“What’s Eden?”
“What’s your mission?”
“No mission. Just out for a walk.”
“Lying again?” Roark shook his head. “Don’t you know you can’t lie to me? Why did you come here?”
The demon looked away, but Roark kept staring and muttered, “Someone hid parts of his memories.”
“Who?” Titan asked.
“I don’t know. That’s part of what’s hidden. His mind has been carefully wiped of many things. Except his mission.”
“Which is?”
“Find the king.”
“Any king?” Casey asked.
“The Marshland king,” the demon replied with a wide, toothy grin.
“And do what once you did?” Titan asked.
“Eat his brains.”
“Might have helped given you’re none too smart,” Casey muttered.
More questions proved frustrating as the hybrid gave them nonsensical replies. Roark chose a different tack. “Who are your parents?”
Gus didn’t expect it. “What?”
“Mother and father. Who was the human in the pair?”
The demon shook its head. “I don’t know.” The question agitated him, though.
“It was your mom, wasn’t it?” Casey pressed. “Got dicked by a big bad demon and kept the baby instead of dumping it. Probably told people you had the Deviant gene.”
“It’s like you were there,” Gus drawled with a smile that dripped onto his lap.
“Who hired you?” Roark asked, the question followed by an intent stare.
Gus stared right back until his eyes rolled up and he fell over. He started to stink immediately.
“Fuck!” Roark actually let out a shout of annoyance. “With all the messing around in there, his mind was already barely holding on.”
“You killed him?” she asked, glancing back at the body before someone shut the door.
“Not on purpose.”
Titan eyed the next door. “Think we’ll run into the same problem with the others?”
“Only one way to find out.” Casey marched grimly to the next one.
The next door opened to reveal that the prisoner had hung herself—with her own tails. It could have been out of fear or, as Roark suggested, a mental command implanted and meant to keep her from spilling secrets. The captive after tried to attack Roark, lunging and snapping his teeth. It resulted in the lizard thing getting tackled by Titan. Given the violence, no surprise it was killed.
Leaving them with only a human. A female, not a male, as it turned out, with a barrel chest and hair raggedly cut.
Titan started the questioning. “State your name.”
“Rodoh.” The prisoner thumped her chest.
“Where are you from, Rodoh?”
“Outside.”
“Where? What kingdom? Who sent you?”
“Outside,” the prisoner repeated. Not in mockery.
Casey looked at the round face, unlined and unscarred. The guileless and vacant eyes. The woman was simple and obviously not the leader of the crew.
On a hunch, Casey said, “What is your job?”
“I carry.” The prisoner grinned. “Strong.” She lifted a thick arm.
“Why did you come here?” Titan then asked.
“Carry.”
Most of the questions resulted in the same reply. It would appear Rodoh was with the dead crew only to serve them. She carried the heavier gear and knew nothing.
What a waste of time. Casey was ready to leave when Roark whispered, “Rodoh is lying.”
Casey frowned. “About what?”
“Everything.” Roark stood closer, and their round-faced prisoner stared vacuously back. “Your name is Rodoh, but you’re not dumb at all, are you?” Roark touched the prisoner, and Casey could have sworn a cold breeze swept past her skin.
The laughter started low and then rumbled forth until Rodoh practically shook with it. “Stupid, stupid king. You did exactly as expected and brought me inside.” Her lips stretched, but it wasn’t natural looking by any means.
“She’s hiding something,” Roark murmured.
“False king. Pretender. How kind of you to invite.” The rictus didn’t belong on the prisoner’s face and appeared forced. Almost as if someone spoke through Rodoh.
“Why are you here?”
“To kill you.” Again, the thing possessing Rodoh chuckled. “And here you are.”
At the threat, Titan moved toward Rodoh, prepared to protect his king. Whereas Casey glanced down at the female’s corpulent shape and simple linen robe. “Was she searched?”
“Yes. All their gear was confiscated. Nothing was found,” Titan replied, standing between Roark and the prisoner.
Still, Casey eyed the woman who grinned, a thread of saliva winding its way down her chin. Her fingers clenched into a fist. For some reason it brought to mind the claim that Rodoh carried things. Perhaps they needed to search the gear again. Could be something was missed.
The cat sauntered into the room. How she’d made it to this level with the locked doors was anyone’s guess. Sachi strolled over to Rodoh and lifted her head to sniff before uttering a yowl. She turned and bolted.
Rodoh said, “Goodbye,” before slamming herself in the stomach.
The nagging feeling coalesced as Rodoh’s belly compressed then expanded.
“Bomb!” It was Roark who shouted it.
Casey found herself thrust into the hall, a cackle of laughter following then a concussion of sound as another body propelled into her. The form wrapped around her, cushioning her from the blast. Surrounded her with a hot, cloaking darkness that let her know on a primitive level it was Roark. He rocked with her as the floor shook. Grunted as he bore the brunt of the explosion.
When the tremors stopped, the heated shield dissipated, and Casey coughed as the dust in the air filled her lungs. She tugged at the slim band of fabric around her neck and stretched it to cover her lower face. It filtered the worse of the silt.
“Are you okay?” The words came faintly through the ringing in her ears.
She glanced sideways to see Roark eying her with concern, his hair ruffled, his suit dirty. Casey nodded. She was only okay because he’d used his body to shelter her. Incredibly brave. Also s
tupid. He could have been killed protecting her.
Making her wonder how they were alive. She saw Titan beside her, rising to his feet, expression stunned and angry. They’d missed the bomb. Then again, who would expect someone to have it inside them? To be willing to sacrifice themselves?
Had Rodoh even realized what she carried inside?
The distant wail of an alarm put the castle security on alert. A good thing, because the prison door was warped and a slab of concrete hung from the ceiling. Only the electrical wires it exposed held it from crashing to the floor.
Roark stood in front of the buckled door. The bent metal and broken interior of the cell made her realize they should have died. Roark saved them.
At what cost?
He wavered on his feet.
“Roark?”
The word seemed to get lost in the ringing, yet he must have heard, because he glanced over his shoulder and offered a wan smile.
While Roark appeared unharmed by the blast, Titan’s expression held concern. He stood beside the king arguing, which involved a lot of hands flashing. With the ringing in her ears, she couldn’t hear a word.
Roark shook his head. Took a step, then another, before he stumbled.
She lunged to catch him.
Chapter 8
Nothing was more emasculating than practically fainting in front of a woman. Especially one as tough as Casey. Roark had hoped to make it away from her before the weakness struck, but failed. As he went down, she dove to catch him.
Titan reached him first, grabbing him by the jacket and keeping him upright.
He blinked against the weakness coursing through his limbs. His own fault. He’d used too much of himself when he erected a shield to protect them from the worst of the blast. Poured everything he could into the psionic power that formed a bubble around the cell to contain the explosion. Because it wasn’t enough for him to protect Casey and everyone else in that hall. He had to protect the castle, too.
The good news was he succeeded. The bad? It left him drained. Shaking. Barely able to see, let alone walk. It didn’t help that his ears were ringing. He’d not protected them against sound. He had more pressing things that needed his magic.
Titan released his grip on his jacket and wedged a shoulder under his armpit, showcasing his weakness in front of Casey, which meant he had a strong urge to tell his captain to go the fuck away. No one should see the king teetering on the brink of exhaustion, especially Casey. For some reason it seemed ridiculously important.
He failed. She saw every tremble in his limbs and the way his chest expanded only shallowly.
“Bedtime.” He saw her lips move and read the word more than heard it.
With no hint of disdain, or pity—which he couldn’t have borne—she slipped under his other arm and reached across to shove at Titan. She flashed her fingers in a complicated set of gestures, and Roark heard, as if underwater, a garbled, “Go. I’ll get him somewhere safe.”
Male pride demanded he refuse and take care of himself. But he’d hate it if vanity got him killed on the way to his bedroom. “I can walk.”
“Show me.” The only warning she gave before she released him.
He didn’t even make it one step. This time she didn’t try to catch him. She let him fall.
“Casey! What the fuck! The king!” Titan yelled clear enough that Roark heard it through the pain of his knees hitting, the slap of his hands that barely saved him from smashing his face. Small blessing.
“He didn’t want my help.” The implication was clear.
Which was why he trembled and held up one arm. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t hold the pose for long either.
She accepted it for the apology that it was and slid under him. Between the two of them, he shoved to his feet. He leaned on her more than he liked as she brought him back through the tunnels, the alarms ringing louder as his ears recovered. His legs started to function again, if weakly. He was exhausted. He needed a bed. Fast.
Casey muttered, the softness of it soothing to his aching ears. “Who the fuck does that?”
“What?” he managed to mutter.
“Put’s a bomb inside themselves. I mean she had to know that wouldn’t end well, right?”
“Fanatics.” One word, but to him, it expressed a host of things. A people ready to do anything, to sacrifice anyone, in whatever quest they’d chosen to embark on. They would let nothing get in their way.
“This job got way more interesting,” she declared as they finally made it to his room.
He’d never been happier to see his bed.
Until he woke up, his head pounding. His mouth dry. And wearing no clothes.
Which was, considering the last person he remembered, a little disturbing. Casey had undressed him? Surely not. It must have been someone on staff, or even Titan.
Not Casey.
Apart from being almost naked—he at least still wore underpants—he felt weak. Heavy, too, as if all his limbs were weighted down. The inside of his head pounded. He could feel nothing other than a sharp pain.
He stirred, shifting the weight of blankets.
“Don’t squish the princess. She’s beside you,” said a soft voice.
“Casey?” He queried her name since he certainly couldn’t feel for it. His magic would need time to recover after what he’d done.
“Expecting another woman in your room this late at night?” she whispered.
“Is that a trick question?” He rose to a sitting position and cradled his aching head.
“Hands.”
“What?”
“Hold out your hand. Titan left a drink for you.”
She passed him a cylinder, the insulated kind. He twisted off the cap and grimaced. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, just the numbing effect. It helped with the pain and gave him back his strength but did nothing for the blanket over all his senses making him feel blind. Only time would fix that.
He glanced over at his daughter. She lay tucked in the middle, thumb in her mouth, something she only did when she was feeling especially vulnerable.
“Why?” he rasped.
“She knew somehow about the explosion. Demanded to be with you.”
Which explained Casey’s presence. She wasn’t here for him, but for Charlie. As it should be. So why the disappointment?
He chugged the remaining contents of the container then went to rise. A small yet firm hand shoved him back down. “Stay in bed. Titan’s orders.”
The gruffness of his voice grated. “I have to see.” See the damage. Find his cat.
“It was mostly contained to that one room. Almost as if someone tossed it inside a container to hold it. The inside is pulverized, though.”
“Injuries?”
“You.”
“Not hurt,” he grumbled.
“Just out of magic. So get back to bed.” Her fingers still pressed into his chest.
“You should be in bed, too.” Beside him would work.
“I’m fine. You’re not. Go to sleep or I’ll make you sleep.”
She probably would knock him out, too. “You’re mean.”
“Yup.” No apology, nor would she back down.
He closed his eyes as he shifted his head to get comfortable on the pillow.
“By the way, thank you for saving my life,” she murmured.
“No thanks. Was saving my own.”
She snorted. “Saving your own would have been putting a shield around yourself that protected only you and preserved your energy. Instead you went all out to contain the damage.”
“Should have realized sooner about the danger.” It bothered him that, from the moment he touched the prisoner’s mind, he’d known there was something wrong. He should have pressed harder, not risked his people and gone in alone. Not that it would have changed the outcome. Rodoh would have exploded no matter what.
“You did good,” she said in a sincere tone.
Odd how it was strangely comforting.
When he
next woke, it was to blinding sunshine streaming through the new set of bars on his windows, accompanied by the smell of bacon. Roark rolled to see Casey sitting cross-legged on the bed, munching from a tray someone had brought up. She’d removed all the domes and nibbled at the various treats. But mostly the plate with bacon.
“Save me a piece,” he grumbled, trying to rise without flopping on his face.
“If I must.” She sighed and grabbed a waffle. A recent addition to the menu that tasted amazing with jelly.
“What happened? Where’s Charlie?”
Casey jerked a thumb to the ceiling. “Princess is in her room having some lessons. Got a pair of guards outside the room and Anita inside keeping an eye out.”
“You should be with her.” Roark felt a sudden sharp guilt he wasn’t. What if someone went after Charlie with a bomb? What if he wasn’t there to shield her?
Not that he was much use at the moment. The mental fog slowed his thoughts and movements.
“Charlie’s fine. You’re not.”
The remark caused him to grumble, “I don’t need you watching me.”
“Says the man who slept so hard he never noticed me drawing a mustache on his face.”
His fingers went to his upper lip, only to freeze as she laughed.
“Now I’m kind of wishing I’d done it.”
“Not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be. Just proving my point. You should accept it gracefully.” She popped another piece of bacon into her mouth and eyed him. “How do you feel? Because you look like shit.”
“Feel it, too.” He grimaced as he reached for the bacon. Grabbed three pieces just to be sure.
She eyed his hand before going for a piece of cut fruit, the flesh of it orange and yellow striped.
“What happened?”
“I went a little too deep. I’ll be fine.”
“How would you know? Done this before? Do you collapse often?” The questions came fast and furious.