Dark Bound

by Kim Richardson

  I stepped to the water’s edge and looked down. The water felt wrong, ominous, and thick like oil, too thick to be considered normal.

  I pushed my fears away. I had to do this. There was no other way. I had to do this for my grandmother. And not even water that looked like it belonged in hell was going to stop me.

  Gripping my soul blade in my right hand, I yanked out my death blade with my left and eased myself slowly into the black, icy water.

  12

  “Holy crap, it’s cold!” I hissed as I lowered myself further into the cold, stinking water. Worse was the feeling of it seeping to my clothes, to my skin, like cold soup. Euwie. I was going to smell like a sewer after this.

  Tyrius snickered. “This isn’t a spa, dearest.”

  “Keep it up, furball and you’re going in next.”

  I glowered as I thought of all the nasty crawlies that thrived in brackish water and clamped my mouth shut. There was no way any of that water was going into my mouth. The water was cold, but not unbearable. I hiked my bag higher on my shoulders so it wouldn’t get wet. Despite my slow movements, ripples spread out from me, silver on the dark water. My boot caught on a rock and I stumbled, making a splash.

  I held my breath for a few seconds, but nothing happened, so I kept going. I moved slowly with my arms held just above the water. Tyrius had been right. The water never went higher than my waist. I had no idea how he could have known. Must be a baal thing. Or maybe it was a cat thing?

  Progress was slow, but I felt some tension leave me as the water started to lower until it was knee high. And when my boots crunched the shore, I smiled.

  I stood and stretched the cramps from my tight muscles. “Well, that wasn’t so hard.” I looked down at what looked like sea-weed stuck to my jeans, but I knew it wasn’t. “I’ll need a shower, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

  “That’s because the water wasn’t the problem. They are.”

  Behind me, I felt the sudden, repugnant presence. Demons. And a crap load of them.

  “I knew it was too good to be true.” I rolled my shoulders as Tyrius jumped to the ground, clean and smelling of my grandmother’s perfume. Whereas I smelled like the crapper. Literally.

  Checking the thrust of my blades, I spun, bringing my weapons around with lightning speed. For an instant, I saw a snarl of fangs, red eyes, and wet, slippery skin with scales like a fish. Yikes. Long and thin, they looked like a cross between a dog and a fish, misshapen as though they had not finished forming. Lesser demons that had escaped the Netherworld, their red eyes gleamed with hunger for my soul. Hell no.

  “Veth hounds,” said Tyrius, his eyes glowing with his demon magic. “I’ve never seen so many all grouped together like that.” The baal demon seemed to glow with an internal light, expanding until he became frayed at the edges. I knew he was about to Hulk-out and change into his alter ego—a spectacular black panther. “These uglies were bred to serve only two purposes—to guard and to kill.”

  “Fan freaking tastic.”

  When I cast my gaze around the chamber, the walls seemed to be moving. Then I realized in horror that the walls weren’t moving. The veth hounds were—hundreds of them. Now I knew why the faeries had never recovered their quarry. They never got past these hounds. Swell.

  A horde of them had emerged between us and the cave. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were either blocking us or guarding the faerie inside the cave.

  “And they look like they haven’t been fed in a while,” said Tyrius.

  “We need to get past them into that cave,” I said crouching low, my eyes on the glowing golden light that spilled from a small entrance.

  “Yeah, and then what?” said Tyrius as his internal light grew and grew. “If we make it to the cave, they’ll still be here when we want to get back out.”

  “Right.” Shit. That was true. Damn it. Why were things always so complicated? It seemed I could never catch a break.

  The sound of claws ripping stone reached me. I whirled and caught a glimpse of a malicious glare, and then my blade made solid contact. Whatever I hit was rendered unrecognizable as it disintegrated into a cloud of ash.

  Tyrius nodded his head, staring at the pile of ash. “And that’s what happens when demons get voted off the island.”

  The rest of Tyrius’s words were drowned out as a burst of light, too bright to look at, consumed the tiny cat. Within a few seconds, there was no Siamese cat shape left, but a three-hundred-pound black panther. Damn. I wish I could do that.

  And not a second too soon, as a wave of veth hounds attacked hard and vicious.

  Howls split the cavern silence, making my skin prickle in goose bumps.

  A flash of scales raced across my vision. It was incredibly fast. With supernatural speed, a hound hit me in the chest. My breath escaped me as I was flung backward. My back hit the hard rocky ground, and I smacked the back of my head. Black spots hit my vision, but I was up before they settled. Driven by instinct, I swung my blades as I spun, slicing the hound in the chest. Its hot, putrid breath gusted out as it burst into ash.

  The back of my head throbbed, and nausea flooded me. But I couldn’t stop. Stopping meant death, and I had too much weighing on me getting this faerie. I needed to get paid.

  Movement caught my eye. I turned, drawing my sword as more hounds poured over and around the rock island. The air stank of rotten fish, making me choke, yet more continued to come for me. The hounds, teeth snapping, bounded up the rock in a violent onslaught.

  Blood roared in my ears as I cut down the first wave and then retreated farther up the rock as more hounds came for me. I kicked out hard, sending a hound scrambling down on the rock, just as another bounded over it and flew at me.

  I ducked. Whirling, I came up blades swinging and cut it down as it soared towards my throat.

  And still more came.

  I swung my blades, cutting through the veth hounds as they advanced, spitting and howling. It was like a sea of scales and fangs, coming for me in waves.

  This was an impossible mark. The queen had sent me on a suicide mission. Damn her. Damn all the fae back to the Netherworld.

  I released myself into my anger, fighting with fury as I advanced into their ranks. I couldn’t fail my grandmother, not now.

  The air seemed filled with yellow teeth, all coming for me. Blood from those I’d killed was everywhere. The world turned to black.

  Frantically, I slashed and stabbed at them, trying to back away at the same time. Still more came. For every one I struck down, ten more would replace it.

  A loud, bone-chilling roar shook the cavern. I climbed another rock, catching a glimpse of Tyrius the black panther. His yellow eyes blazed with deep hatred as he attacked a veth hound. The lesser demon’s thin body was no match for the three hundred pounds of predatory muscle. His massive maw clamped around the hound’s neck. There was a terrible snap, and the hound’s head flopped to Tyrius’s feet.

  Some of the veth hounds halted, their red eyes watching the black panther with confusion and fear. But Tyrius never stopped. He hit another wave of hounds with the force of a train hitting a wall. Limbs tore, and blood flew. Veth hounds howled in fury and panic as they tried to get away from the large cat.

  More howls hit my ears as another horde of veth hounds answered their kin’s call and rushed to meet the black panther, pouring out through crevices like giant ants.

  They hit the black panther at the same time, with a blow so strong Tyrius’s head slammed into the rock. As the big cat surged to his legs, a rush of hounds leaped onto his back, thrashing wildly with their claws and fangs. Tyrius roared in pain.

  The veth hounds attacked, merciless and deadly. My chest ached at the sight of Tyrius’s refusal to stop, despite his limp, the cuts and the blood.

  Veth hounds reeled back but then lunged, jaws snapping. Tyrius thrashed madly, trying to break free from the hounds on him, but he couldn’t escape the jaws that latched on to his back and neck.


  Again and again, Tyrius thrashed on the ground, but he couldn’t get free.

  Tuffs of black fur and skin flew in the air, Tyrius’s flesh. As they buried their heads into his flesh like giant ticks, my heart stopped. Tyrius’s whine was of agonizing, soul-shredding pain, the likes of which I’d never heard.

  They were just too many.

  “Tyrius!” I screamed, white-hot fury plaguing my mind.

  Damn that Isobel. I should have never taken the job.

  Letting my anger anchor me, I moved with an instinct to kill what was not from this world. I fought the hounds back, killing any that got close enough and leaving a path of dead veth hounds in my wake. It was a futile effort, I knew. There were more than Tyrius and I could hold back. If we wanted to survive, we had to reach that small cave.

  I screamed and kicked, my legs barking in agony. Tyrius. I had to save him.

  I knew it was stupid. There was no way I could defeat them all. But I would not let them take my friend. Never.

  Something hit me on the side of the head, and then pain exploded on my back. Agony lashed down my spine so hard I fell to the ground, and my blades flew out of my hands. Pain spiked down the tendons in my neck as I felt hot breath and sharp teeth sink into my flesh around my neck, legs and arms.

  I tried to speak, but I had no breath. I couldn’t move. Tears plagued my vision. I couldn’t see Tyrius.

  Light flared. Not from me or Tyrius, but from the cave. So bright was this light, it lit the entire cavern as though it was daylight. Veth demons howled and hissed, and through my cracked vision I saw them retreat back into crevices and holes, away from the light.

  What the hell just happened?

  A small mass of tawny and black fur lay on the ground twenty feet from me. Tyrius. He’d changed back into his Siamese form. And he wasn’t moving.

  “Tyrius!” I felt the blood leave my face as fear gripped me. Groaning, I propped myself up on my elbows and blinked towards the source of the light.

  Standing in the middle of the island, hands raised over his head, was a small man. His shape was a sharp silhouette against the light.

  The man lowered his hands and the light diminished until all that remained was the same eerie yellow glow from the cave.

  I could see him clearly now. The face that was staring at me didn’t belong to a man, but a goblin.

  13

  I stared at the creature, the goblin. I’d only heard of them, never actually seen one with my own eyes, but I knew it was a goblin. I was sure of it.

  No more than four feet tall, his skin was brown and cracked like old leather. Wisps of white hair spotted his nearly bald head, and a white beard hung below a very large and bulbous nose. The edge of one of his pant legs was shredded while the other was tucked into tall weather-worn boots. He wore a tan linen shirt I was sure used to be white. And by the wear and tear of his clothes, he hadn’t been shopping since the turn of the twentieth century.

  Why did he save us? Right then, I didn’t care. I was pissed. I didn’t have time to make friends with goblins.

  I forgot my pain as anger welled in me. There was no faerie here. The leprechauns had played us. Bastards. It had all been for nothing.

  Ignoring the half-breed, I struggled to my feet and fetched my blades from the ground, securing them to my waist. I had no idea if the goblin was a friend or foe, but I didn’t trust him. Even if he did save us, I didn’t know if he had some ulterior motive. Maybe he had saved us just to have our flesh served on a platter later.

  I wouldn’t take any chances, not with Tyrius lying over there. He still hadn’t moved. Wobbling like a drunk, I collapsed next to him.

  “Tyrius?” I placed my shaking hands carefully over his body and let out a cry of relief when my palms felt a warm body. His chest rose and fell. “Tyrius?” I said again, but the cat wouldn’t open his eyes. When I took my hands away, they were covered in black blood. His blood.

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry, Tyrius.” My lips trembled. My words were a sob, and I blinked the tears from my eyes. “We shouldn’t have come here. This is all my fault.” Guilt was a hot dagger stabbing into my gut. I had thought I’d done the right thing by coming here to save my grandmother’s house. Looking at Tyrius now, I wasn’t so sure it had been the right choice.

  I’m a damn fool. I’m going to lose my only true friend.

  “Yes, that’s right. You shouldn’t have come,” barked a voice behind me, no doubt the goblin. His deep voice seemingly echoed off the stone walls. I heard a loud sigh. “Why did you come here? What do you want?” The last part was more of an order. My anger flared, and I let it.

  Boots scraped the hard rock behind me. “Did you hear me? Or are the angel-born hard of hearing? I’m speaking to you!”

  I all but snarled as I whipped my head around, not caring that tears spilled down my face. When I spoke I tasted salt. “Get away from him or so help me God I will cut out your groin and feed it to you.”

  The goblin made a small o with his mouth and then closed it. His large brown eyes studied me for a moment. I had no idea what he was thinking, and it just made me angrier.

  “Your friend needs help,” said the goblin, surprising me at his use of the word friend and not demon. “Take him inside,” he ordered again, gesturing to the small cave with his hand. “I can help.”

  I leaned over Tyrius protectively and the goblin lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want him to live?”

  I yanked out my soul blade. “Do you want to live?”

  Annoyance flashed in the goblin’s eyes as he pressed his hands on his hips. “Even if you made your way out of Elysium, he would not survive the journey. If you want him to live, you’ll take him inside. Otherwise he will die. Don’t be a fool. Come.”

  Fool? Yeah, maybe he was right. I watched the goblin as he walked towards the small entrance to the cave, wondering how he’d made that bright light. He wasn’t carrying anything that I could see. Then, making up my mind, I sheathed my blade and scooped up Tyrius, trying not to cry and fall into pieces.

  I didn’t know what I’d do if Tyrius died. The thought of him dying sent my heart shattering into pieces.

  My body ached as I stood, but it was nothing compared to the blows Tyrius had suffered. Cradling him ever so gently against my chest, I followed the goblin into the cave.

  My first impression was that it stank of cooked cabbage. It was tight, smaller than my apartment, but cozy and surprisingly warm. The source of the heat came from a small fire pit in the middle of the chamber with a mounted grill and pot. The smoke of the fire rose and disappeared into a small opening in the cave’s roof, which I suspected the goblin had created. There was a small cot in a corner, a chair that faced the fire and a wooden table with two chairs.

  “Put him on the table and lay him on his left side, the wound side up.” The goblin placed a black medical-looking leather bag on the table next to a towel. Then he rolled up his sleeves.

  Obediently, I lowered Tyrius onto the small table but stood close enough to him, should the goblin try anything stupid. I made sure he saw my hand on the hilt of my blade.

  The goblin huffed in irritation at my gesture. I didn’t care. One wrong move and he’d find his head next to his feet.

  “If this is a trick,” I said, twisting my hand on my hilt. “If you’re thinking of eating him, I’m going to—”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you the first time,” the goblin waved a hand at me. “You’ll cut out my groin, isn’t that right?” He let out a laugh. “Well, I’m a vegetarian. All right? Now, shut up so that I can save your friend.”

  I raised my brow. I’d never heard of vegetarian goblins, but then again, I didn’t know much about them. Maybe he was lying? Maybe not.

  The goblin grabbed another towel and pitched it at me. “You’re bleeding at the back of your neck,” he said, his eyes on Tyrius.

  I pressed the towel against my neck, keeping a watchful eye as he dabbed the other towel on Tyrius’s side. The towel came off smeared in b
lood. From the bag, the goblin pulled a needle and thread.

  “What are you going to do with that?” I asked, suddenly scared.

  “I’m going to stitch him up,” said the goblin, as he put the thread to the needle. “Baals are very much like real felines when they’re on this side of the world. When they take this form, they are every bit like a real cat, with internal organs and the like. And just like a real cat, I need to stop the bleeding. If I can do that, he’s got a real chance.”

  My eyes burned, and since I didn’t trust myself to speak, I simply nodded.

  The goblin cut around a patch of wet fur, which I realized was blood, until the wound was clear of fur and had only skin around it. I nearly threw up at the sight. Tyrius’s skin was mangled, and I could see teeth marks on his flesh where they’d pulled to tear it.

  The goblin didn’t seem to notice my alarm as his steady hand reached in, pinched the cat’s skin together and began stitching. For such thick, short fingers, he was surprisingly gentle and proficient.

  Unable to do anything else, I stood and watched as the goblin’s expert hands stitched up my furry friend. An invisible hand seemed to wrap around my throat and squeeze each time the goblin pulled at a stitch.

  Hang on, Tyrius. Please hang on.

  After an intense twenty minutes, the goblin tied and cut the last stitch. “This should do it. Put him next to the fire. The warmth will help him heal faster.”

  “So, he’s going to be okay?” I said, blinking fast. Hope kindled inside my chest as I stared at the long strip of stitches on my cat, cut through his beautiful coat. I knew when Tyrius woke up, he was going to hate it.

  The goblin nodded. “He’s still not out of the woods yet, but I think we got to him in time before he bled out.”

  I slipped my hands under Tyrius and lifted him up. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but the bleeding had stopped. It should have comforted me, but I felt ill.

  “Are you some kind of healer?” I asked as I made my way towards the fire and gently eased the unconscious cat to the floor. My thoughts went to Pam and I was certain the woman would have had a fit at the sight of Tyrius. I had the feeling I wasn’t the only one who loved him dearly. Tyrius had that effect on people, especially women.