Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  My gaze flicked to Gareth but he wouldn’t meet my eyes, his frown deepening the closer we got to the building.

  We followed the tall elf past the building’s stone gates and into a large courtyard. Stone benches were strewn around the landscape, surrounded by flowers and fruit trees. A square pool rested at its center, silver waters reflecting the moon overhead.

  We reached the entrance, which was a pair of giant wooden doors painted black with more of the same intricate Elvish symbols and letters painted in golds and silvers.

  Two elves dressed in black cargo pants and black military jackets flanked the entrance. They pulled out their swords at the sight of us.

  “Nice welcome,” I told the guards as I stepped up on the concrete platform with Gareth. “But I do like the house. The whole castle-looking thing. Very goth-chic.”

  The guard to my left frowned and looked at our elf leader escort. “Jasper. What the hell are you doing bringing them here? Are you crazy?” He had long black hair pulled back in a braid. His dark eyes rolled over me, his jaw clenching in disgust. “You know it’s forbidden to bring foreigners to our city.” His expression turned sour when his eyes flicked to Gareth. “And this one… you know the High elf had an execution order out on him if he ever came back to Imadell.”

  “Let the warden of the city decide their fate,” answered Jasper, our tall escort.

  The guard scowled at him. “The High elf will have your balls for this.” His eyes moved to me again, his face bunched up like I was a piece of turd he’d just stepped on.

  Tyrius straightened on my shoulder. “Just give us a damn visitor’s pass so we can get on with it.”

  The guard’s face darkened into a scowl. “We don’t allow non-elves to enter Stormhold Castle.”

  Right. Like that was supposed to stop us.

  “It won’t take long,” said Gareth, his voice calm and resolute. “The High elf will want to speak to me.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Not anymore.

  The elf guard said nothing as he turned on his heel. He pushed open the tall wooden doors and stepped inside, holding one open for us.

  We formed a line behind Jasper and followed him through.

  Adrenaline spiking, I slid next to Gareth and matched his pace. “So, your father is the High elf and lives in a castle.” Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me!

  Gareth’s expression shifted to anger, his stride stiffening. “He’s also the warden of the city.”

  “What does that make you?”

  The elf took a breath and said, “Absolutely nothing.”

  11

  Stormhold Castle was just as impressive inside as it was on the outside, just better lit. It was like walking into a Medieval castle, with bulky, yet sparse wood furnishings and chandeliers the size of tables. The doors were fit for giants because there was no other way to explain why you needed them to be so damn high.

  The air held a mix of wood and spices, which I couldn’t decipher, and of growing things, like a plant nursery.

  My boots clanked loudly on the wood floors as we followed Jasper through a large entryway, Dick and his buddy behind us. The space was at least two stories high, dimly lit with the same soft glow from glass globes filled with elf dust.

  It was quiet, but the stillness seemed to hold a new threat, like something was lurking in the shadows waiting.

  And somewhere in the middle of all that, I felt a quiet, quivering pulse—elf magic. I was certain of it because it was the same pulse I felt when I touched my elf stone. It hummed through the walls and the floor like a living, breathing beast. It was like the castle itself was made of magic.

  The elf guard who had let us in had marched on ahead of us—no doubt to warn the others of our untimely arrival. I didn’t like the look he gave me before he trooped off, rife with disgust.

  I barely took notice of the grand wooden furniture or the biggest fireplace I’d ever seen in my life that could fit an SUV and still have room. My mind was swirling, my jaw clenched, and I loosened my grip on my fingers, not having realized I’d grasped them into fists. Maybe on a subconscious level, I wanted to punch Gareth.

  And rightly so because as it turns out, Gareth, the elf wizard, had been keeping a lot from me.

  Come to think of it, everything was making sense now. The secrets. The not sharing much about his family. Why he chose to live among the humans. It all came down to one special reason. He fell in love with a human woman. And then his elven life went to hell.

  Was he running away?

  He was some sort of elf lord and she had been a human. The pieces of the puzzle that was Gareth all fell into place.

  I was a mix of emotions, not sure how I felt about this. Betrayed? Cheated? Lied to? Yes, the fact that Gareth didn’t tell me sucked, in a big way. There wasn’t much the elf didn’t know about me. Granted, you didn’t have to tell your partner everything. But being some elf lord qualified under some unspoken relationship rule as a piece of information that should have been shared before we got naked. And I was ticked that he’d hadn’t told me.

  “You’re angry. I can tell,” came Tyrius’s soft voice as I trailed behind Jasper and Gareth, my steps a little heavier than before.

  I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  “Maybe a lot.” The cat sighed, the air brushing against my ear. “I’m sure he had a good reason why he didn’t tell you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Tyrius tapped my shoulder with one of his front paws. “Maybe it was just not the right time. With all that’s been going on. I’m sure he was going to tell you, eventually.”

  “He had plenty of time,” I said, the memory of the two of us entangled in his bed until late afternoon because we couldn’t take our hands off each other sending my heart thrashing a little faster. “He just chose not to tell me.”

  “I don’t think that’s it at all,” argued Tyrius. His right ear brushed my cheek as he shook his head. “Obviously, the elf has baggage, the lordship kind of baggage. Maybe he was scared of how you would react.”

  “Please.”

  “Like how you’re overreacting now.”

  “I’m not overreacting.”

  “Says the woman who’s overreacting.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are,” said Tyrius. “Don’t forget his father sounds like a capital douche.”

  I pursed my lips. “You’re right about that.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want you to know. Or maybe he didn’t want things to change between the two of you. Think about it. How do you suppose you’d feel if he told you he was the son of the High elf, warden of the elven city?”

  “I would have felt the same,” I shrugged. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  “I’m just saying,” continued the cat. “Gareth probably didn’t tell you because he thought maybe you would feel differently and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want things to change between you two. He’s still Gareth. He’s the same elf who cares about you and who’s saved your ass, god knows how many times. Lord or not. The dude’s got some serious magic.”

  “I know that,” I answered, feeling angry and guilty all at once. It was giving me a massive headache. He was right of course. Still, I hated when Tyrius was right. It went straight to his ego, which was already too big for his tiny body.

  “Just try not to rip off his head later,” added the cat.

  “No promises.”

  Maybe I was overreacting, but I couldn’t help it. I was anxious and scared for my vampire friend and for Layla. Plus, the fact that his dad, the High elf, wanted him dead was an additional roadblock. We might never get our hands on some dragon’s breath. We might never leave.

  Tyrius gave a huff and I felt him turn around on my shoulder. “How’s it hanging, Dick? Left or right?”

  God help us all.

  We came to another set of massive wooden doors. They opened and the same elf from the entrance glowered at me.

  “Let us pass, Liam,” said J
asper, and I was suddenly glad we’d met him in the woods and not Liam. Liam would have been a foreseeable problem. Liam, I probably would have stabbed.

  Liam frowned and his eyes flicked back to me. If he thought that would intimidate me, he was a bigger moron than I thought.

  I cocked an eyebrow at him and said, “Are you going to let us in or do I have strip down naked?”

  Liam’s frown morphed into an ugly scowl, but he stepped aside and let us pass.

  I pushed past Liam and strolled in behind Gareth. Hell. I loved making an entrance. But I probably looked like crap and smelled even worse after all that hiking. Not exactly ladyship quality.

  Jasper quickened his pace to catch up, which gave me a few seconds to look around the chamber. It was built on the scale of the castle, enormously high ceilings lost into shadow, large and with a few furnishings. The floor and walls were constructed of wood in smooth rich tones that gave off a log cabin feel. Soft yellow lights plashed onto the walls and the floor of the chamber.

  But it wasn’t an ordinary chamber, I realized, my chest tight.

  Chairs and small side tables had been pushed against the walls, creating a large open space in the center of the floor. At the end of the chamber was a raised dais where an elderly elf, with skin a sickly pale gray, sat in an enormous chair of carved wood. Its back flared out in the wings of an eagle, spreading out into an enormous crest decorated with all manners of spirals and intricate carvings of elf symbols and design.

  Damn it. It was a throne room.

  And sitting in the throne chair was Gareth’s father.

  My face went cold. There was a hollow place in my gut that wasn’t from not having eaten all night.

  I slowed my pace, letting Jasper take the lead as I looked at the others who stood below the dais and around the room. Elves, female and male, in a variety of ages, body types, and hair colors, their eyes lowered as they knelt quietly. Servants, I guessed, hovered at the walls, bearing trays of drinks and food for their High elf and his court.

  I counted six elves below the dais, wearing the same black attire Liam wore, swords at their waists, looking ready to slice me into pretty cubes if their High elf asked them to. There were two other males and a female. Both males were dressed in black with long, fitted jackets you’d see men wear in the eighteenth century, yet these had a more modern flare. Though neither looked happy, their features were familiar. They looked like Gareth. They all shared the same dark eyes, square jaw, heavy brow and thick build. Despite the more wrinkles and the gray that streaked their hair, there was no mistaking the resemblance. These were definitely Gareth’s brothers.

  They were grim faced and watching us as we approached, but clearly not enjoying the view. Damn, I was losing my touch.

  I seriously doubted the sexy elf female was his sister. No, she had none of the family traits. Sisters also normally didn’t look at their brothers with lust in their eyes, the way this one was looking at what I assumed was the eldest brother.

  The female elf looked to be in her mid-thirties. She was smaller than me in size, light where I was dark, with very thick cherry-blonde hair, falling down her back in waves. She had a straight nose and high cheekbones with full lips and luscious eyelashes that framed her large green eyes that could hypnotize any male. Graceful hands moved to clasp in front of her, and each finger was embellished with a ring of gold and silver, even her thumbs. Slim and upright in her stark black pant suit, she had the poised presence of confidence and sexuality, beautiful and alluring in her sophistication and beauty.

  Tyrius’s tail brushed my right calf, and he said, “She looks like a vampire.”

  He was right again of course. She had the striking beauty of a vampire, but her delicate pointed ears and lavender scent was all elf.

  As if hearing my unspoken thoughts, the female elf turned and met my eyes. Her full lips closed and she stared, unblinking, at me. Sizing me up. Are you? I thought, sending my eyebrows high in challenge. I didn’t look away. If she thought she was intimidating me, she was wrong.

  Though I’d recognized that look she gave me, that predatory look, her green eyes flashed with a moment of uncertainty before it was replaced with a mild amusement.

  “Did I ever tell you the story of when I met Ezer, the demon king of Mardar?” came Tyrius’s voice, edged with worry.

  “No.”

  “That’s because it didn’t end well.”

  I exhaled. “That’s great, Tyrius.”

  “I hate kings and lords and high borns,” muttered the cat. “All those privileges get to their heads. Monarchs. They think they’re permitted to do whatever they want because of a title. It makes it easier for them to kill without a valid reason.”

  Swell.

  The room settled into an oppressive silence. The kind I hated. It was either one—we walked in on them while they were talking about us specifically; or two—whatever they were discussing they didn’t want us knowing. Either way, it ticked me off.

  “What’s this? The Council of Elrond? Is it me, or do you have the impression that we just walked in on something?” whispered the cat. “Makes you want to know what it was. Doesn’t it?”

  I couldn’t agree with him more.

  I followed Jasper across the throne room, watching the dais get bigger. My pace didn’t falter until I reached it.

  I heard the scuffing of boots behind me and felt the sudden shift of air as Dick and the other elf came around to stand on each side of him. I’d forgotten they were still there.

  Jasper bowed from the waist. “High elf. I apologize for the interruption. But these… visitors requested an audience with you.”

  The High elf’s dark eyes settled on Gareth. He didn’t even look at me or Tyrius. He leaned forward, eyebrows high, and said in a deep and painfully rasped voice, “Tonight we shall celebrate your execution, my son.”

  Oh, hell.

  12

  You know when sometimes you wished you could kick your past self in the ass for doing something really stupid? Well, this was the one of those times. We should never have come here.

  The High elf wanted to kill his own son. And I thought I had family issues.

  I waited, expecting some introduction, but Gareth was silent. His eyes focused on his father. I felt like an idiot standing there with my arms hanging loosely at my sides and the High elf not even acknowledging my presence with simple eye contact. It was like I wasn’t even there.

  Heat rushed to my face—from anger or embarrassment, possibility both—and I strained to keep my eyes on Gareth, though I could feel the female elf’s winning smile on me. She was enjoying this. Bitch .

  The High elf sat hunched on his throne. Large hands that looked like they’d once been rough and strong gripped the armrests, now merely skin and bone. Both his long hair and beard were white and thin, and his brows were bare, giving him a more severe look. He was a big man, and I was certain he had once been broad shouldered and strong, though now was reduced to purely bone and sagging skin. He was dressed in what looked like some kind of golden fabric that had the texture of leather but the supple sweep of silk, and it hung loosely on his body.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his skin was a grayish cadaver color, making him look like he had a fever or simply was on his death bed. He had Gareth’s dark eyes, but where Gareth’s were mystical and full of compassion, his father’s eyes were hard and cruel.

  “I didn’t come to quarrel with you, High elf,” said Gareth finally.

  “No, you came to die,” commented the High elf. “Why else would you come here when I gave explicit instructions that if you ever set foot in my city, I would gut you like a pig? Yet… here you are.”

  I searched Gareth’s expression, finding a tightness to his eyes that spoke of a past situation ill spent. My heart clenched at the tension around his face. His family reunion wasn’t going so well.

  “I wouldn’t have made the journey if it weren’t important,” said Gareth. “Not if a life didn’t depend on
it.”

  “Your life, it seems,” replied his father, his voice rising and falling in barely contained disdain.

  Gareth shifted his weight. “I didn’t come here to die.”

  “No?” smiled the High elf. “Then, why did you come here?” he waved his hand. “For the life of another human whore, perhaps? Fool. You are still going to die for what you’ve done.”

  “Why do I get the impression this has nothing to do with us coming here now,” said Tyrius, his voice low and brushing against my ear.

  “Because it obviously doesn’t,” I whispered back.

  “High elf,” said Gareth, through tight lips. “May I present Rowyn Sinclair, a Hunter from the city. She helped bring down the dark faery queen only recently. She’s come because we both need your help.”

  The High elf lifted his gaze as though he’d only just noticed I was there. Our eyes met over the length of the dais. My pulse quickened when those cruel eyes fell on me. Yikes. It was like the dead was staring back at me.

  I thought about curtseying for half a second and realized it wouldn’t do us any good. I’d never done it before and especially not with how the High elf was looking at me, like a predator at its prey.

  One of the male elves broke away from the dais and walked over to us, sparing me from an uncomfortable conversation. His stance was domineering, and he stood a few inches taller than Gareth. The elf held himself with confidence, and I had to arch my head back to see all of him. Gray stained his otherwise short black hair. His nose was a little too big and his lips a little too thin. Wrinkles lined his forehead and around his eyes, and I made him out to be older than Gareth. He also lacked the rugged sexiness his brother had. He wasn’t an ugly man, but his looks were somewhat forgetful.

  “A Hunter? I’m not sure I believe you, brother,” said Gareth’s brother, not caring to hide the scorn in his tone or the slight disapproving frown on his face. “She’s too… young. Inexperienced.”

  I gave the elf a false smile. “And you look like you haven’t gotten laid in a while,” I shot back and pressed my hands on my hips. “But we’re not here for me.” We were getting off to a great start.