by Amy Patrick
“And what’s the message?”
“That we’re good. That we’re superior and deserve to be served, to be worshipped, as it should be, as it was.” He sounded like he was reciting some mantra he’d been forced to memorize in elementary school.
“They don’t even know you’re not human.”
“They will. Soon they will.”
“Do you remember when things were like that?”
“Me? No. I’m not that old. I’ve only lived one hundred fifteen years. But I have many friends who do remember. Alfred is one of them.”
“Alfred Frey? Your agent?”
“Yeah. Alfred knows how it was. He says it’ll be that way again, and Davis will make sure it happens.”
“Why do you have the fan pods watch TV all the time? Watch your videos online? What does it do?”
“It helps, you know, with the glamour. Alfred says the signals magnify the glamour—he discovered it in the fifties, when TV was invented. Not that many people had TV’s then. But now… now people basically carry them around with them. We can glamour them almost twenty-four-seven now that so many humans carry smart phones and use them all day and night. It’s getting flat-out easy. He says the plan may be accomplished even sooner than expected.”
“The plan?”
Reggie opened his mouth to answer me, but then the doors to his suite flew open and Ingrid walked in.
“Excuse me, but we have a situation.”
Reggie stood, his face looking groggy, perhaps from the leftover Sway I’d laid on him. “What is it?”
“Your guest—Nox—is uncontrollable. He’s tearing up the room we’re holding him in. He broke a window and nearly jumped from the second floor trying to escape. He’s insisting on seeing this girl.”
“Her?”
“Yes. He was particularly adamant that she not visit your suite.”
“I don’t give a crap what he says. She’s mine—he traded her. He’s a punk anyway.”
Her face turned apprehensive. “He may be more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He says when we learn his real identity, we’re going to be sorry. He suggested he somehow outranks you.”
“What the hell does that mean? He can’t be more than twenty years old.”
“I’m not sure, but he told me in the—” Here she glanced at me and stopped herself. “He communicated it in a way that I’m certain he’s telling the truth. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh. Well, go back and find out what he’s talking about.”
“I’d love to, but he’s refusing to explain until he sees this one.” She pointed at me.
Reggie glanced at me, back to Ingrid, and then back at me again. Shrugging, he said, “All right then. I’ll talk to him. Come on, girl. Let’s go see your boyfriend.”
I followed Reggie and Ingrid as they moved swiftly through the halls to an elevator that carried us two stories beneath the mansion’s first floor. They led me down an unadorned hallway lined with doors. Storage rooms, maybe? At the end of the hall, Ingrid pushed a key into the lock of one door. Looking back over her shoulder, she explained, “We moved him down here to keep him from escaping—or breaking his legs trying to.”
When she opened the door, I saw Nox, sitting on the floor, his hands behind his back, head hanging between his knees. He lifted his head as we entered. His eyes went immediately to me.
“Ryann,” he cried, his voice hoarse.
“Nox, are you okay?” I tried to go to him, but Reggie grabbed my shoulders and held me.
“You get your hands off her you son of a—if I find out you’ve touched her, harmed her in any way—”
“Okay, okay, sparky. Your girlie’s fine. Man, what happened to that pretty voice of yours? You sound rough.”
Ingrid turned to Reggie and rolled her eyes. “He’s been singing at the top of his lungs, trying to glamour the guards. It almost worked, too. One of them unlocked the door and he was halfway down the hallway when I came up to investigate with Olar—who’s completely tone-deaf.” She grinned an evil grin. “Another reason we put him here below ground. The sound waves don’t carry.”
Now that she mentioned it, I looked around the room. It contained a low cot, a wall sink and a toilet. Nothing else. I’d never been in a prison, but the room looked like the cells I’d seen in movies and on TV. Why on earth would Reggie need a room like this in his mansion? And those other doors I’d seen in the hallway, assuming they were storage rooms—were they all cells, too? Soundproof rooms?
“So—here’s your girl. Now what’s this about you being somebody special? You’re a noob. You just got to town, and you ain’t even had your twentieth birthday yet.”
“I’m new to town because I’ve been living with the Light Elves for the past five years—in Altum.”
Reggie and Ingrid blinked in obvious shock and shared a worried glance.
“Don’t you get it?” He laughed, though the subject matter wasn’t the least bit funny. “I work for the Dark Council. I’ve been a sleeper agent for the past five years, waiting to fulfill my mission.”
“And what was your mission?”
“Killing King Ivar, of course. I killed him. And now I’ve come home to receive my reward.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Ride You Can’t Refuse
The air left my lungs so fast I felt dizzy. Nox was confessing to Ivar’s murder? Was he bluffing in order to get them to let him go? Or could it be true?
I tried extending my emotional E.Q. toward him, but all I got was a blend of adrenaline and hope—and what was it—victory? His face certainly wasn’t giving anything away. If I were going on body language alone, I’d say he was telling the truth.
Nox struggled to get to his feet, gave Ingrid and Reggie a confident smile, then turned his back to us so we could see his cuffed hands. “Now, if you don’t mind releasing me, I need to call Davis.”
Reggie and Ingrid turned to each other, clearly confused. I read fear as the dominant emotion. They were afraid of Davis, particularly of disappointing him. Nox had either come up with a brilliant ruse during his captivity in this small room, or he was finally copping to the truth to get himself out of an uncomfortable position.
“He was in Altum,” Reggie said. “I saw him at the Assemblage. He was there on the day of the murder before we all high-tailed it out of there.”
It was enough to convince Ingrid to step forward, pull a small key from her pocket, and unlock Nox’s handcuffs. He spun around and grinned at us all, rubbing his wrists.
“That’s better. I’ll be sure to tell Davis how reasonable you both were. Now, if I may have my phone?” He extended a hand toward Ingrid.
She must have put his phone in her purse because she turned her head to glance at the bag she’d dropped right inside the doorway.
As soon as she looked away from him, Nox sprang into motion. In what seemed like one lightning-fast move, he grabbed the open handcuffs from Ingrid and slapped one onto Reggie’s wrist. Then twisting Reggie’s other hand behind him, he clamped on the other cuff. Before the larger, stronger man even realized what was happening, Nox had kicked his feet out from under him, knocking him down. Reggie’s head hit the bare floor with a crack, and he was out cold.
Ingrid’s eyes flew open wide. Not a small woman herself, she was still no physical match for Nox. She turned toward the door. She’s going to run away. But she only crossed the room to her purse. Plunging her hand into it, she came out with a gun.
“There will be no more of that,” she said, turning back around. Nox started toward her and she pulled the trigger, firing just to the side of him. The shot left my ears ringing and a hole in the wall behind Nox. He froze in place.
“That’s right. It’s loaded,” she said with a triumphant grin.
“You won’t shoot me—I work for the council,” Nox warned, taking a cautious half-step toward her.
She hesitated for a second then turned the gun toward me.
“You’re right—I’m not going to shoot you—not before I find out the truth about you. But I will shoot your little human here. I have no problem with that. And she’s rather important to you for some reason, isn’t she?”
Nox stopped in place again. “This has nothing to do with her. Let’s go upstairs, contact Davis, and leave her out of it.”
Ingrid took a quick step toward me and grabbed my arm, pressing the gun against my back. “I don’t think so. I think we’ll take her with us.” She nodded toward him then at the door. “You first, big guy.”
Nox glared at her. “I swear, if you hurt her…” But he obeyed her order, walking to the door and out into the hallway. He stopped in front of the elevator.
“No. Take the stairs,” Ingrid said.
Nox opened the door to the stairwell and went inside.
Don’t worry. I heard his voice inside my head. I’ll get us out of this.
Be careful.
Once he glanced back over his shoulder and I thought he might try to fight Ingrid off, but I guessed the sight of the pistol barrel to my side changed his mind. As we climbed I gave the Sway a try. It had worked on Reggie. Maybe it would work on her.
She was behind me, but I pictured Ingrid’s face. Concentrating as hard as I could, I willed her to drop the gun and let us go. No luck. The nose of the pistol pressed every bit as firmly against my back. Maybe fear was messing with my ability. Maybe Ingrid wasn’t as susceptible to the Sway. We came out of the stairwell in the hall between the kitchen and butler’s pantry.
“Keep walking,” she instructed. “We’re going outside now—through the front. Then we’ll be driving to the Capitol Records tower. You want to go before the Dark Council so badly—you’ll get your wish.”
I started to become hopeful. If it was just the three of us with Nox driving, I might be able to overcome Ingrid at some point or surprise her and get the gun away from her. She wouldn’t be able to keep it on us both so easily in the vehicle. I liked our odds once we were away from this house and the Elven bodyguards.
My hopes sank as two large men met us at the front door. Ingrid must have called them.
“Put this on,” she ordered, tossing me a cover-up—whose, I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t complain. I had no desire to face the Council—or anyone—in that outrageous swimsuit. I slipped the garment over my head just before Ingrid shoved me toward one of the guards.
“Put them in the trunk.”
The man nodded and gripped my shoulder. The other guy grabbed Nox’s arms and pinned them behind him, forcing him out the front door.
We’ve got to do something here, Ry. Though he communicated silently mind-to-mind, Nox sounded worried. We can’t let them take us to the tower.
Because you lied about killing Ivar?
He didn’t answer my question directly. Because I’ve been lying about my name. And once your father learns who I really am, I’m pretty sure he’s going to kill me.
My heart seized. He was right. Vancia’s real father had been the leader of the Dark Elves. Nox’s father was second-in line to the throne. Davis ascended to leadership when they both died in the plane crash. And apparently he’d told everyone Nox and his mother had died in the crash as well.
But now Nox was no longer a boy—he was eighteen—a man in the Elven world. And that made him a threat. Perhaps Davis had hoped the Dark heir would never re-surface. Perhaps Nox’s mother had convinced him—insisting even under duress or torture—her son was dead and not a threat to his royal aspirations.
But if we walked into that iconic Hollywood building and Nox confronted him, Davis would know his time was up—and he’d likely be facing murder charges as well as losing his position as ruler. He’d already proved he was willing to kill to capture the throne. He’d certainly do it again to keep it.
It seemed impossible this guy was my natural father. What had Mom been thinking?
The guards marched us toward the waiting Bentley, the one escorting me reaching it first. As he pressed the key fob to pop the trunk open, I tried again to use my persuasion glamour. You don’t want to do this. Let go.
His grip on me released, and his brow furrowed in confusion. I’m sure he wondered where the heck the voice had come from. He must have thought it was Ingrid because he looked back toward her, wearing a quizzical expression. I set to work on Nox’s guard.
Release him immediately.
His grip also loosened, and Nox fought to break free.
“What are you doing, you idiots? Get them! Put them in.” Ingrid rushed toward us, brandishing the gun again.
The Sway broken, the guards again grabbed me and Nox and followed her orders, shoving him roughly into the trunk and me in on top of him. Nox put a palm over my head and pulled it down toward his chest as the lid slammed closed.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, gripping me tightly and pressing a kiss into my hair. “You’re okay.”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m really claustrophobic. We’ve got to figure out a way out of here”
“No kidding. This isn’t on my top ten list of places to be. And neither is a coffin.”
“What are we going to do?” My question was followed by an involuntary whimper.
He petted my head, speaking close to my ear. “I don’t know. I don’t know yet, baby. We’re kind of on our own. We don’t have any friends out here.”
And then it hit me, a tiny spark of hope. “Yes we do.”
“Do what?”
“Have friends. Lad and Vancia are still in town. Well, he was our friend—and she was your friend a long time ago. They aren’t scheduled to fly out until tonight.”
“But even if they could help us, how are we supposed to contact them? Ingrid took my phone. Even if I had one, I don’t have a number for Vancia—I’m sure Lad has no phone.”
“Can’t you call him—the Elven way?” I asked.
“No. I told you—you’re the only one I’ve ever heard from a distance. Lad and I don’t have that kind of connection.”
“Maybe… maybe I can try calling him.”
Nox stiffened under me. “It’s not going to work. You’re not together anymore. You said he didn’t want you anymore.” His tone was bruised and adamant.
But hurt feelings didn’t matter right now. This was a matter of life and death. And he was probably right. Lad and I had only begun to work on our mind-to-mind communication, and we’d never even tried it long distance. Now that our attachment had been severed, it probably wouldn’t work, but what else could we do?
“It’s worth a try, right? It’s the only chance we’ve got.”
“I guess so,” he grumbled.
“All right then. Be quiet and let me concentrate.”
And I did. I concentrated like I never had before in my life, taxing every brain cell I had to remember the details of Nox’s lessons in mental communication. I opened my mind and allowed myself to relive those uncomfortable, exciting moments when we’d made a real breakthrough, and the sense of desperation I’d felt on the bus when I’d cried out for him and he’d heard me.
Then I opened my heart. And I drew on the deep connection I’d had with Lad. Taking off the emotional clamps, I finally allowed my feelings to flow free, allowed myself to feel all the love I’d ever had for him, before he rejected me, before he’d pushed me into Nox’s arms and then showed up with his fiancée.
I gave free reign to the painful sweet feelings I’d suppressed and let them envelope me once again with no concern for the future consequences. My heart felt nearly crushed from the fierce weight of my love for him, but I pressed on, drawing on the pain to empower me as I called to him.
Lad, I need you. I’m in trouble. Nox and I are in great danger. Please help if you can. We’re being taken to the Capitol Records Tower. We don’t have much time.
I had no idea if he could hear me, whether he’d even respond if he did. Even if he got the message and wanted to respond, would Vancia allow him to come to our aid—or would s
he try to stop him? She was Davis’s adopted daughter. She might be a sleeper agent like Nox had claimed to be. Or perhaps she was just another innocent victim of Davis’s schemes. Perhaps she truly cared for her fiancé and would do anything he asked. For now all we could do was hope and pray and wait.
“What did you say to him?” Nox’s voice was guarded and filled with hurt. Hope and pray and wait—and apparently pout.
“I called for help. I told him where we were going. Why? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“You bet I am.”
I let out a weary sigh. “Don’t you want them to come help us?”
“I do, and I don’t. If they don’t show up, we’re screwed. If they do—if they do, that means he heard you, and the emotional connection between the two of you is still there.”
“It doesn’t matter, Nox. He doesn’t want me anymore. If he comes, it’s only because he doesn’t want us falling into the hands of Davis and the Dark Council.”
“Well, we don’t have a chance anyway. These guys guarding us are effing strong. And I’m willing to bet the Capitol Records building is one of the most closely guarded places on the planet. Once we’re inside those doors, it would be easier to extract us from the White House.”
“Well, we’d better hope they show up before we get inside then. Let’s not talk. We’re using up all our oxygen, and my claustrophobia’s getting worse.”
“Fine.” His hands clamped around my face, pulling it to his. His lips covered mine and moved in a frenzy of desperation and passion. Like he couldn’t wait another second to taste my mouth. Like it might be his last chance to do so.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Dark King
The car stopped after what seemed like an eternity. We could hear muffled voices and then the thump of doors as Ingrid and the guards got out of the car.
And then there was blinding daylight and fresh air as the restrictive sheet of metal above us lifted. Glorious, because we were no longer trapped in the cramped trunk. Terrible, because there, looming above us, was the iconic circular Capitol Records Building, shaped like an old-fashioned record player with stacked disks and a needle sticking out of the top. I’d read the light atop the needle flashed Morse code for Hollywood twenty-four hours a day.