by Bailey Dark
“Night,” he curses, lifting shaking fingers. He rounds on me and grabs my arms, shaking me. Fear lances through me and I manage to flinch back but he holds me tight. “You are delicious.”
I feel clammy as he runs his nose over my collarbone, along the swell of my breasts, and then along my neck. He breathes me in deeply, tongue flicking out over my cold skin. I feel sick as he tastes me. I don’t know how much of my soul he stole from me, but I’m afraid to find out. The thought of him claiming the rest has my stomach roiling with nausea. It was painful, but not like being struck. This pain was different, deeper, and more complete. I’m frightened of it.
“Oh, little mortal.” He strokes my cheek. “I’m going to take my time with you. Yes, just a taste here and there.”
The Nephilim leaps off the slab, hardly able to contain his giddiness. He grins at me as he slams the door. He was so high on my soul, he didn’t even bother restraining me. My mind is screaming at me to move, to run, but my body has yet to respond. I sit, frozen in fear and missing a fragment of my soul.
Kane’s face flashes through my mind. I see him scowling at me, eyes narrowed. He looks at me is if I’m the stupidest girl in the world. Well, he demands, aren’t you going to move?
I leap off the slab, stumbling when my bare feet hit the ground. The Nephilim stole my shoes, I think clumsily. I cling to the granite slab as I make my way around it with wobbling legs. I’m not fast enough, I think, fear and adrenaline coursing through me. Whatever he did to me has made me weak. As I round the corner, I see the dagger glinting on the table. I reach for it, almost falling. But I catch myself on the edge of the table and wrap my fingers around the hilt of the slim blade.
Dagger in hand, I lean on the wall and approach the door. I stop beside it, listening. There are no footsteps past the door, no shadows, and no sound. Heart in my throat, I open it quietly. A torch on the wall lights up a narrow, short hall. At the end of it, a staircase disappears up into a dark room above. I stumble to the staircase, bare feet dragging over cold and dirty stone. My foot grazes over something wet and I shudder. I don’t want to imagine what it was.
I creep up the stairs on all fours, careful to distribute my weight so as not to make any noise. At the top of the stairs I poke my head over the floor, searching for any sign of my captor. The hall is empty, doors open on either side of it and light spilling out. I eye the front door at the end of the hall and I feel hope swell in my belly at the sight of it. I can do this. I can make it. I slither off of the staircase on my belly and slowly rise to my feet in a dark corner.
Humming reaches my ears and I press deeper into the shadows. The Nephilim strides across the hall, a bounce in his step. He moves from one room to the other and doesn’t glance this way. I wait for ten excruciating seconds before I push out of my hiding spot. Quietly, I slink down the hall. My knuckles are white from gripping the dagger so tightly and I feel sweat beading on my upper lip.
I pause outside the room the Nephilim entered. Blood pools on the floor, oozing towards me. In its reflection, I see him lounging back in a comfortable armchair, his back to me. I bite my lip, taking a deep breath. I run, pads of my feet slapping over the floorboards as I lunge for the door. My hand wraps around the handle and I tear it open, throwing myself into the night air. Pain shoots through me as I stub my toe on a stone step but I ignore it.
“What the—hey!” The Nephilim shouts behind me from the house.
I dare a glance over my shoulder and see him sprinting down the steps after me. Fear shoots through me like lightning and I hurtle down the streets. My breath comes loud and fast, ripping at the back of my throat until I taste blood. I don’t slow, adrenaline fueling my limbs. Houses and shops streak past, all perfectly normal and well-maintained. I don’t think about the bodies I saw lying in the house I left behind. All I can think of is the Nephilim, sprinting behind me.
“Help!” I scream.
But the streets are empty, and the night is quiet. I see Kane’s castle above me, but I know it’s farther than it looks. I’m blocks away and will never make it. My heavy skirts slow me down, and I can hear the Nephilim gaining. A scream tears from my throat. I’m going to die.
Chapter 14
Kane
From the city, I can hear the revelry of the masquerade ball in my castle. I keep my mask tugged securely over my face, hiding my identity from the people in the streets—still celebrating. They glance up at the castle from time to time before turning back to their dancing, drinking, or boasting. The streets in the upper, more affluent districts, are packed, and the air smells heavily of alcohol and poppies. I force my way through the crowd, shoving people aside. They’re too drunk or too elated by the unexpected party to do much more than glance at me.
Briar's scent is nonexistent here. She didn't come this way. I cock a wry brow. I hardly expected her to leave the ball in the safety of my castle to dance with commoners below. But this is the main thoroughfare from the castle into the city, and I know she isn't in the castle anymore. I couldn't track her scent through the doors or out the gates of the castle wall. Now I realize it's because she didn't walk out of it.
Apprehension sweeps through me and I press my lips into a thin, worried line. I’m certain Briar isn’t in the castle and the last place I could find her scent was on the balcony railing. There was another smell there, so faint I didn’t bother with it. Now I wonder if it has anything to do with Briar’s disappearance from the balcony. I turn off the main road onto a side street, stretching my shadows outward in the hopes of finding Briar nearby.
Dark figures writhe on a doorstep and I glance sharply at it, senses on alert. But it’s merely two strangers rutting on the street to the sound of the violin in the distance. I ignore them, striding past a few more solitary late-night revelers until the streets grow empty and quiet. If I continue on this street and follow it down a few staircases, it will lead me directly to the House of Carrion—where the first victim was found. I stare pensively in its direction, wondering if the Nephilim have anything to do with this. But I would have picked up their scent on the balcony if that were the case. I turn away from the popular brothel and go up a street closer to the castle walls. Perhaps I’ll find her scent by the wall near the balcony.
My shadows have yet to discover anything close to Briar and I can feel my blood begin to thrum with anxiety. I scowl. It's been some time since I've felt nervous like this, and I don't like the sensation. I don't like the vulnerability. But, of course, I'm nervous, I rationalize, I need Briar alive and well for my revenge. I stride purposefully down the quiet streets. The only sound is the music and laughter from up above. The houses on the street below my castle are fine, grand manors. Many of them have been built to replicate the style of my castle with its spindly towers and flying buttresses.
Suddenly, I catch a whiff of vanilla and orchid—Briar’s perfume. I inhale deeply, letting the sweet scent permeate my senses. Eyes sharp, I follow its trail, stalking through the streets. Willem and Desona were adamant that I let the city and castle guards complete the search without my interfering, but I know I could find Briar more quickly than the rest of them. And Briar is my bride. A growl rumbles deep in my chest. She is mine. And I won’t let anyone else have her.
I walk quickly, following the fading perfume through the winding streets. Briar has gone a little deeper into the city, but still in the upper districts. Suddenly, the scent disappears, as if the air and stones here were swept clean of it. I narrow my eyes, taking in the neighborhood. It’s residential, dark, and locked up tight. The people that live here likely went to be hours ago as dawn is approaching. I keep walking, hoping her scent will manifest again. When I come to a fork in the road, I choose a direction randomly.
I send my shadows streaking out into the night once more. I keep walking until they return. One carries an odd sensation with it. Sweat, fear, and the sound of bare feet slapping against stone. And most importantly, the faint scent of vanilla. I whirl around, sprinting through th
e streets, following the shadow’s lead. Anticipation and apprehension make my heart race. I know the shadow found Briar; it’s unmistakable. But the smell of her sweat and her lack of shoes has me worried—real, genuine fear for her.
I growl, my dark power swarming to me, begging me to release it. I feel the urge to level the city with it, I would find her more quickly that way. But I curl my hands into fists instead, letting the shadows pool over me until I’m just a blur in the darkness. I use my power to run faster, leaping around corners and down streets with frightening speed. Briar’s presence is growing stronger and I know I’m close. But there’s something else—that faint scent I couldn’t place on the balcony.
The darkness urges me to take a sharp right, off of Briar’s trail. I heed them and cut through an adjacent street. I pick up the sound of Briar breathing hard, whimpering with fear. I hurtle a low stone wall and land on the balls of my feet on the other side. Briar is ahead of me, running as if her life depends on it. Her dress is ruined, and she’s left bloody footprints in her wake.
“Help!” She screams. Her voice is filled with fear, lilting and striking.
I take off behind her. “Briar, it’s me—stop running.” She glances over her shoulder, eyes wide and mouth slack. She screams again but doesn’t slow. I growl with frustration, tempted to sling my shadows towards her and snag her. But I don’t want to hurt her. “Briar, it’s Kane.”
“Get away,” she sobs, stumbling.
I grit my teeth and lunge forward, wrapping an arm around her waist. She shrieks, and lights flicker on in dark houses. Briar writhes in my arms, clawing at my face. She tears off my mask, but her wild eyes are unseeing. I wrestle her arms into my grip and hold her tight until all she can do is wiggle her torso. She doesn’t stop fighting me, tears streaking down her face.
“Briar.” I let my dark power seep into my voice, urging her to calm. “Briar, it’s Kane. You’re safe, you’re alright.”
She quiets as my shadows slip over her skin and curl around her soothingly. When she calms, her chin quivers. My eyes go wide, and she bursts into sobs, so intense her entire body heaves with the effort. I hold her, unsure of how to respond as she cries. She blabbers incomprehensibly, cheeks soaking with tears. Slowly, she reaches for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling herself into my chest. Her slight body is warm, and the pressure is surprisingly pleasant. Hesitantly, I bring my arms around her in a gentle embrace.
“I want to take you back to the castle, are you okay with that?” I ask. She nods against my shoulder and I feel my collar start to grow damp from her tears. “Hang on tight.”
Briar’s world tips upside down as I teleport us back into the castle, into my room. She stiffens and I feel her heart start to beat wildly again with fear. Concern and anger lance through my chest, directly through my black heart. I’ve never seen her so frightened before; not even when I made the mistake of trying to overpower her in the garden. This is different; this is raw, primal fear that will sit like a constant reminder in the back of her mind for the rest of her life. And I hate that. The only one Briar should be afraid of is me.
“What happened?” I ease Briar out of my arms and onto my bed.
She’s been in this room once before, when she first arrived. She looks around now, blinking her swollen eyes slowly as she takes in the space. I see her check that the balcony door is closed and that the lock is in place. She crumples onto my black duvet, bloodied and dirtied feet hanging over the side of the bed. I send a tendril of darkness into the castle to find Willem. Briar’s shoulders shake and she takes deep breaths. Suddenly, she reaches for me, wrapping her hand around mine and clinging to it tightly. I stiffen with surprise. Briar has never touched me of her own accord, not that I ever wanted her to. But with her fear so palpable, I understand it doesn’t mean anything. She’s simply a lost mortal looking for comfort.
“Briar, I need to know what happened,” I murmur, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I woke up in a small room,” she whispers. Her voice is small, tinny, and trembling. “I was strapped down. This man—Nephilim—came in. And he said he wanted to have a mortal soul and that he would take his time leeching it out of me.”
My body courses with heat as I narrow my eyes angrily. The fucking Nephilim from the interviews revealed Briar to the rogue. They lied to me. And I put her in danger. I feel my fangs elongate and nails stretch into claws, pricking at the velvet fabric. “Did he hurt you?” I growl.
Briar freezes, and then her eyes pool with tears again. “Yes.”
“How?” I close my eyes to hide the black pooling out of my irises.
“He hit me,” she whispers. “And then he tasted my soul.”
My eyes fly open, darkness be damned. “How much did he take?”
“I don’t know.” She shudders. “I think only a little. I felt cold—so cold. He left after that, saying he would come back for another taste later. So, I ran. And I know he was chasing me.”
I tear my hand out of her grip and dig my claws into the wooden bedpost. Fury thrums in my veins. I want to tear through the city until I find this Nephilim. And then I want to level him with my darkness and flay him. I'll hang his corpse from the castle walls and drain his blood. I'll make an example of him. Suddenly, the door flies open and Willem strides into the room. I snarl at him, baring my fangs. He halts mid-step, eyes darting from me to Briar. I ease in front of her, blocking my bride from view.
“Call off the search for Briar,” I growl, voice rough. “But I want every guard in this city hunting down the rogue Nephilim. Whatever it takes.”
“What happened?” Willem’s lips pinch together at the sight of me so consumed by my darker nature.
“Get out,” I murmur as his eyes fall on Briar. He doesn’t move. “Go!”
Willem is gone in an instant, the door clicking shut softly behind him. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. I don’t want to frighten Briar. Slowly, I regain control of myself. My fangs and claws recede and I feel my eyes return to normal. My shoulders sag and I turn towards her. She doesn’t shrink away from me and I can’t sense her fear. She stares morosely, brows furrowed.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. The words taste like bile.
“It’s okay,” she says quietly.
“It’s not.” I rub my hand over my jaw and sigh. Why is it that I’m only now developing a conscious?
Briar moves towards me slowly, crawling across the bed. She pauses a foot away, eyes locked on me. “Thank you for saving me.” Her voice cracks. “If you hadn’t…”
“Don’t,” I say quietly, brushing her tangled hair back. “Don’t think about it.”
She nods, biting her bottom lip. I know the words are useless. I can't stop her from reliving the frightening experience and I know it will plague her dreams tonight and for many nights to come. My fingers trail down her cheek, and she leans into my touch. She sighs, shoulders relaxing, as I caress her cheek. Our eyes meet and I hear her heart flutter. The sound makes my own heart stumble and I tug my hand back, frowning.
“I have to go,” I say, rising. “Stay here, you’re safest here. There are wards at every door and window. Only Willem and I are allowed in this room. And now you.”
“Where are you going?” She bites her bottom lip.
“To hunt that Nephilim,” I growl.
She pulls at the hem of my shirt, untucking it accidentally. I eye her and she blushes. “Please, don’t leave.” She stares down at the ground. “Please.”
I sigh, closing my eyes before sitting back on the bed. “Just for a while,” I concede.
“Thank you,” Briar whispers.
She lays down beside me, no pillow or blanket, and closes her eyes. I sit still, hands clasped in my lap and listening to her breathing. Her heart rate slows and a soft snore slips from her parted lips. I smile wryly. Briar doesn’t seem the type to snore, but somehow I find it endearing. I watch her shoulders slowly rise and fall. I rise, careful not to jostle
her, and head to a washstand across the room. The water is still warm, and there's a clean towel draped over the side. I wet it, wringing out the extra water.
I crouch down at the end of the bed, where her feet dangle over the side, and wonder just what I'm doing. Shaking my head at myself, I lift the towel to her foot. Gently, I wipe away the dried blood and dirt to reveal the cuts beneath. They'll need treating after I clean them. But I'll have healers attend to that. My own magic is devoted to darkness and destruction and isn't suitable for healing.
Slowly, the towel is stained red and brown and gray as the rime is washed away. I re-wet the towel and wring it out two more times, staining the water in the basin brown. I clean the last bits of stubborn blood from her heels as the door opens softly again. I don’t look up, sensing Willem’s presence. Disgust oozes off of him in waves.
“What is it?” I ask, whispering so Briar won’t wake.
“We’ve commenced the hunt, I thought you might like to join,” Willem says stiffly.
I crumple the rag in my fist and rise, turning to look at my Second. His face is twisted with disdain. “Briar needs me here,” I say, carrying the towel to the basin. “I trust you to lead the hunt.”
“You would rather stay here and wash the feet of this mortal than hunt down the rogue?” Willem cocks a brow.
“We both know the real fun begins when we’ve found the rogue,” I snap. “Bring him to me when you’ve found him.”
“You’re getting soft,” Willem murmurs.
I pin him in place with a glare, curling my lip. “Careful, Willem. We may be close but I won’t tolerate insults.”
“No?” Willem retreats to the door. “What about the truth? You’re too kind to the mortal, Kane. It doesn’t suit you. And it won’t make it any easier to break her when the time comes.”
I turn away from him, back towards Briar. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I growl.