by Amy Sumida
“I'm not trading one stage for another.” I lifted my chin. “At least here, I have some control. I have my magic. In your club, I'd be helpless. There's no way you'd put me on a stage and turn off my collar, which means that I'll be completely cut off from my magic. I can't bear that.”
Slate growled out a curse as he pushed himself away from me. “You'd be safe.”
“Fuck safe.” I jumped off the table. “I have my pride.”
Slate stared hard at me; taking in my tattered, bloody shirt and the flesh it revealed instead of concealed. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared back at him.
“Don't make me force you, Elaria.”
“Just leave me alone, Devon,” I said with a sigh. “You've had your fun for the day. Let me go back to my cell and wash this blood off.”
Slate's eyes skittered over the blood on my skin, and his lips trembled for the briefest moment.
“Who were they, by the way?”
“What?” Slate scowled again.
“Not what; who,” I repeated. “The men you were arguing with; the ones you gave the remote to. Who were they?”
Before Slate could answer or simply tell me to fuck off, the whole room started to shake. Jars rattled off the table and crashed onto the floor. Boxes of bandages bopped off shelves and bounced on our heads. Both of us went down with the detritus.
Slate crouched over me; protecting me with his body as things that were supposed to be used for healing crashed around us violently.
“What the fuck?” Jago shouted over the rumbling as he came stumbling into the room.
The sound of screaming, shouting, and metal crunching carried in to us. Slate's eyes slid back and forth; watching the room while he listened. Then, as suddenly as it started, the shaking stopped. We were both breathing heavily; our chests pushing into each other. His eyes were mere inches away from mine, and I stared into those glittering irises in fascination. They looked less like metal up close; striations of pale gray, robin's egg blue, lavender, and pure white melded together to become silver.
“Are you okay?” Slate whispered; his words feeling intimate.
“Yeah; get off me,” I growled; annoyed that I felt kind of soft and squishy about him trying to protect me.
Slate's smirk was back; he plastered it on while he gracefully got to his feet. I stumbled to mine with Jago's help.
“Boss?” Jago asked; utterly lost.
“Take Elaria to her cell,” Slate said. “Then get the men to my office.”
Chapter Seventeen
I had just stepped out of the shower when someone strode into my cell. I heard the creak of the steel door and hastily dried off before getting dressed. I had expected to find Jago standing in the tiny room, but there stood Slate; filling up my little room with his massive gargoyleness.
“What do you want now?” I grumbled.
“I want your help.” Slate's expression was bitter; those words had cost him.
“No sea dragon?”
“We found a sea dragon; he hasn't come back.”
“What?” I whispered. My hair dripped down my spine; the water suddenly feeling like ice.
“The sea dragon never made it back to the surface.” Slate stretched his neck. “We found your fucking ice crust, drilled down into it—took eight hours by the way—and sent the dragon in. It's been two days. The hole froze over. I had the tunnel filled as a precaution.”
“Shit.”
“Is exactly what we seem to be in,” he agreed. “Deep shit.”
“You want me to try singing again.” It wasn't a question.
Slate just stared at me.
“What are you offering?” I lifted a brow.
“What do you want?”
“What do you think I want?” I pointed at my collar.
He shook his head.
“Then release Tessa.”
“I can't do that either. That girl is the only leverage I have over you; she stays.”
I growled in frustration; everything I'd done to protect Tessa had only tightened her chains. “Then you have nothing to bargain with, Devon!”
“Careful, Spellsinger.” Slate edged closer to me; his designer shoes soundless on the stone. “I've been kind to you. I offered the carrot instead of the whip. Don't make me change tactics.” His stare heated as it roamed my body; stopping on the wet spot my hair was making on my shirt. The rounded curve of my upper breast showed through. He brushed the transparent fabric with a fingertip as he added, “I'm very good with a whip.”
I shivered and stepped back. Slate shifted his stare slowly down my body. I didn't know if his whip was figurative or literal but something about his stare cut off my curiosity.
“I'll free Cerberus.” That deadly stare lifted to mine.
I went still. “Truly?”
“Truly.” Slate held his hand out to me. “Is it a deal?”
I stared at it; wondering where the trick was.
“I swear that I will offer Cerberus his freedom personally,” Slate vowed. “As soon as we return.”
“Deal.” I shook his hand.
Cerberus hadn't heard any of our bargainings. He was passed out cold. He'd gone ballistic when I'd returned to my cell covered in blood. The second earthquake had already put him on edge and then I showed up looking like Carrie on prom night. I had to tell him everything that happened in the arena prior to the earthquake, and Cer had to tear apart his room. Jago shot the Hound of Hades with a special beneather tranquilizer so he wouldn't hurt himself.
Cerberus' snores were background music to my second deal with the Devil.
Slate glanced at Cer's cell and shook his head. “He must really love you. I've never seen a man tear a bed in half.”
“We look out for each other.” I shrugged. “Have for a very long time.”
“So I've heard,” he murmured; shooting me a mysterious look. “Come along, Elaria. I have a feeling that every second counts.”
It was night again; the cave lights dim and the streetlamps bright. Beneathers were out in droves despite the recent earthquaking events. I don't know what Slate had done to calm the masses, but it appeared to have worked. I shook my head at all the gaily dressed people blithely going about their night as if nothing was wrong.
This time, we took Slate's personal car to the epicenter—a black Maserati with an interior more comfortable than a Shining One coach. The smell of leather added to Slate's scent; filling the car with masculinity. I leaned my head back against the padded headrest and glanced over at Slate as he drove. Elegant hands that still managed to look capable of crushing rock, worked the machine expertly; one casually clinging to the steering wheel as the other rested on the gear shift despite the fact that the car was automatic. Slate looked good in the car; the pure black interior suited him. It matched his clothing too; the tailored slacks and the button-down shirt that gaped at his strong throat were both deep, sin-black. His breath lifted his broad chest and worked the muscles in his throat; drawing my eye to a gold chain there. The jewelry was new; I'd never seen Slate wear anything besides his watch. I wondered if it had been a gift or if he'd bought it for himself, and also what was hanging from it.
I looked away determinedly. It was hard not to stare at him in the intimate environment of the car, but he knew I was looking. I had seen his eyes flicker. I was forcing a confrontation if I kept it up, and I was already facing one of those... underground. I didn't have the patience for dealing with the underground presence and Slate.
Slate parked in the same spot he had the last time he'd brought me to the clearing, but tonight it was dark. I got out of the car and stared up at the ceiling. The lights above this section had been turned off. Not dimmed but shut off completely.
“I didn't want anyone wandering out here,” Slate said when he noticed my look. “Most beneathers know better than to go into the darkened areas of the Zone.”
I made a little sound of acknowledgment as I headed out to the epicenter. I knew exactly where it was, des
pite the darkness and the fact that it was an unmarked expanse of dirt. I would never forget this place or where I'd stood in it. A tremor went through me, and I suddenly didn't want to be there. As in; I wanted to run. That shocked me. I wasn't a runner. I started to analyze my emotions, but then Slate pressed his little remote and my magic came alive. I sighed in relief as Kyanite came with it; prattling on about how nice it was to be able to talk to me without worrying about me dying.
I'm dealing with the same problem as before, I told him once he settled down. They sent a sea dragon underground, and he didn't come back.
A sea dragon didn't come back? Kyanite's voice betrayed a rare tremor of fear. We need to get you away from that zone, my love!
That would be really lovely, I said sarcastically.
No need to get snippy. I'll tell your physical lovers that the stakes just got higher.
How do you even know that term? The “stakes” thing.
I watch through you. I listen. I learn.
Of course, you do. Silly me. I smirked to myself.
“Are you going to stand there making faces or are you going to sing?” Slate glowered at me.
“I'm trying to find the right song.”
Slate tapped the remote against his thigh impatiently.
Into the deep we go again Kyanite said grimly.
Exactly! Rolling in it, in fact.
I didn't have to say more than that. Adele's “Rolling in the Deep” burst to musical life around me, and Slate chuckled.
“Someone was watching over you when they gave you Kyanite,” Slate muttered.
No shit, asshole; I was watching over her, Kyanite huffed.
But then I was singing; lifting my magic from the place it slept inside me and sending it down with my will and my voice. The lyrics were perfect; fire and fever. Seeing someone clearly. Laying them bare. It should be enough to heat my way through that ice and get me into the ocean. And, to navigate the waters, there was that powerful chorus.
I dropped like a stone cast into the ocean; plummeting through earth and rock and boiling through that icy crust as if it were nothing. It took me mere seconds to reach the place I'd been before. As if my memory of it had drawn me there. The frigid, murky water held me in its thick embrace once more, and the dark shape moved within it. I reached out, used the lyrics to become one with the water instead of fighting it. I lured it with promises of what we could be together. I'm not here to drain you; I'm here to make you stronger. Just let me take a quick peek at what you're hiding.
The ocean pulled me in, but instead of the warm partnership I expected, my body went taut with freezing pain. I kept singing; pushing through the searing anguish. I sensed that if I stopped now, I'd be locked in that agony forever; empowering it as I had promised I would. So, I sang on—if a little brokenly—and I rolled through the deep.
Suddenly, the darkness condensed and leapt at me like a lion. Massive jaws opened, fangs flashed, and a terrifying sound poured up from the abyss of its throat. This wasn't a water creature. There were no fins or scales on its body. The skin I saw was thick but not in the way of dolphins or whales. This was a hard creature; a thing of earth that walked on two feet... or flew. Massive wings—as wide as Slate's arena—spread out behind the beast as it reached for me. The look in its burning eyes was hungry. It roared and rocketed me back into my body. But even after I was inside myself again, its image stayed with me. I had a feeling it would haunt me forever.
My song shifted into a scream.
“Elaria!” Slate had me in his arms; shaking me. “I've got you! You're safe! I've got you, Spellsinger. You're okay. Look at me.”
Slate kept saying it over and over until it penetrated my brain. I'm safe. I'm okay. I'm alive. I was crying—tears soaking his shirt—and Slate was stroking my hair. What the fuck?
I pushed at him, but Slate didn't release me. His eyes glittered in the glow of the Maserati's headlights. His hand moved from my hair to my cheek; brushing away the tracks of my tears. Lines of worry were etched into his skin. We stared at each other; something strange between us. Stranger than the thing rolling in the deep beneath us.
“Tell me,” Slate said firmly.
“There's something monstrous down there,” I whispered; part of me afraid that it could hear me. “Monstrous and mad. All definitions of mad.”
“Yes, but what is it?” Slate growled.
“I don't know!” I said a little hysterically. “It came at me; it roared. It's not a water beast; it doesn't belong there. It has claws and wings and burning eyes like flames behind glass. It should be drowning, but it isn't. It lives—no; it exists—in torment. Sweet stones; the sound of it. Agony, despair, and longing. It craves vengeance. Whatever it's doing down there, it doesn't want to be there. It didn't get there on its own.”
“A monster trapped in an ocean inside the earth,” Slate whispered as he pulled me back against his chest. “What am I supposed to do about that?”
“Know any demon slayers?” I tried to laugh but it turned into a whimper.
“Shh; I'll figure something out. It will be okay.”
Light poured over us as another vehicle pulled up; crunching dirt beneath its tires and startling me. Slate narrowed his stare at the intruder. The light moved away as the car parked and then footsteps approached us. I looked over my shoulder at a couple of men in stylish suits. They looked out of place in the barren dirt. But then, we must have as well.
“Mr. Devon,” one of them said hesitantly.
“Frederick,” Slate's voice was crisp; irritation filling it. “Allan. What are you two doing here?”
“We were about to ask you the same thing,” the second man said. “All of this earth-shaking business has got the Zone spooked, and then we noticed that these lights were out. We came to see what was up with that and found you here.” He frowned at me. “Are you...? Are you cradling a woman?”
“Well, I certainly wouldn't be holding a man like this.” Slate squeezed me in warning.
So, he didn't want the Zone to know about the monster. Not that I blamed him. Monsters tend to cause panic. If they're big enough, they can even panic other monsters. And this bastard was more than big enough.
“You seriously drove out here to...” Frederick trailed off.
“To have some alone time with my girlfriend; yes.” Slate eased back so I could face the men and gave me another warning squeeze. “She's a champion in my arena; it's hard to find a place where we won't be disturbed. And it seems that we've failed yet again.”
The men cleared their throats and shuffled awkwardly. They made their apologies and hurried to their car as if Slate was the monster. I guess, for them, he was. Hell, for me he was too. Just in entirely different ways.
“That will be a problem.” Slate scowled after them.
I pulled away from Slate completely; watching him watching them. That's when I realized that he hadn't remembered to turn my collar back on. For a few blissful seconds, I ran through a list of songs I could blast him with. I could knock Slate out and take his car. Or maybe spellsing him into driving me out of the Zone himself. I'd need someone to open the—
Click. I glanced down and saw the remote in Slate's hand. He had a grim look on his face; his eyes narrowed on mine. I flushed guiltily.
“It appears that we're now an item.”
That was not what I'd been expecting him to say.
I glanced back at the car that sped away from us; doubtless taking those men off to spread the word about Slate and his new champion girlfriend. I nearly groaned. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the flaming monster pit.
Chapter Eighteen
“Come on, Diva,” Jago said as he opened my cell. “Let's go.”
“You'd better make sure they turn her fucking collar off this time, Jag-off!” Cerberus snarled through his bars.
Yes; Cerberus was still there. No; Slate hadn't betrayed me. He had personally offered Cer his freedom—just as promised—and Cerberus had refused. He wasn'
t leaving without me; period. So, I had helped Slate for nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. Now, I knew there was a monster beneath me who didn't like me one bit. In fact, I'd had a distinct impression that it wanted me dead. But then, it probably wanted everyone dead. It was that kind of angry.
“I've got her remote right here.” Jago held up the tiny black box.
I eyed it covetously. That had been a mistake; to bring that thing close enough for me to grab. I'd missed my chance last night with Slate, but I wasn't going to hesitate the next time I was presented with an opportunity. Jago noticed me staring at the remote and smirked.