Nessa shivered as the cold air of evening seeped through her layers of clothing, brushing against her skin like phantom fingers. A light breeze stirred up her loose hair, blowing it around her shoulders in a tangled cloud. Nessa sighed and pushed it back, wincing as strands caught on the brooch that was pinned over her heart. Her fingertips brushed against the blue gems and silver, and Nessa’s indecision was abruptly abandoned.
∞∞∞
Nessa chased after the vision, the closest thing to a memory she had, allowing it to lead her further into the maze of tall, stone buildings. The sky darkened and the lanterns’ circles of light grew brighter, wider, showing the eerie mist that rolled across the ground in rippling waves. It had appeared out of nowhere, suddenly there in a blink of an eye, like it was rising from the cobblestones. Thick, white and heavy, it came up to Nessa’s ankles.
She hurried along, the mist stirring in her wake. Thin tendrils curled under the hem of her skirt, coiling around the cuffs of her boots. For a brief moment, Nessa entertained the idea of the mist being alive, breathing in time with the night’s calm rhythm.
That notion soon turned sinister as the mist continued to roll in, growing in depth and density. The light from the lanterns was smothered, defused, transformed into shallow pools of luminosity, little moons which hovered along the alley. Shadows lengthened and darkened, and the air suddenly held an unnatural quality, loaded with energy and danger.
A shiver of warning crawled up Nessa’s spine. Her Rider’s Mark tingled ominously.
Nessa paused under a lamp, her breaths coming fast and shallow, panicked. She cast around, searching the mist with wide eyes.
She didn’t know what to expect, not really, but Nessa expected to see something: a figure standing in the distance; a monster lurking in a gloomy doorway, ready to pounce. Despite the distinct feeling of eyes watching her, hungry and intense, it appeared that Nessa was alone in that menacing alleyway. She could see that nothing—no one—was there with her.
With unease, Nessa continued down the alleyway, telling herself that everything was fine, that her imagination was playing tricks on her, turning something perfectly natural like mist into a menacing force. It was her imagination, Nessa insisted, that made her feel like she was being watched. It was definitely her imagination that conjured up the clip-clop echo of hoofed footsteps behind her and the softly spoken words that drifted through the chilled air like a siren’s song, quiet and beguiling and ever-so-deadly.
Nessa rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. The pressure of imprisoned memories grew, building up against the wall in her mind, pushing against it like a dam that was threatening to burst.
A courtyard opened up before her, perfectly round and surrounded by tall walls. Mist swarmed around the edges, catching against the weathered stone and the small lanterns which dangled from brackets at head height. Great waves of mist rolled in from the alleyway behind Nessa, soft and cool as it brushed against her ankles, filling up the courtyard and flowing down into the pond-like feature that sat in the centre.
Nessa’s eyes latched onto it.
The sense of déjà vu was nearly overwhelming.
All fears and uncertainties floated away as a haze settled over her. Nessa felt calm, detached even, almost like she was seeing everything through someone else’s eyes.
Entering the courtyard, Nessa unhooked a nearby lantern from its wall bracket and used it to light her way through the ever-thickening mist. She approached the pond-like feature, the weight of the lantern straining her arm as she held it aloft; made from metal and with chunky glass panels, it was surprisingly heavy. The mist smothered the light, and little more than the lip of the feature was visible as she came to stand by it.
Nessa stared into the feature’s impenetrable darkness, unable to tell how far down it went. It could be a couple of feet or a hundred. Mist poured over the lip, streaming down like a spill of ivy tendrils. Over to the side, spiralling down into the darkness, was a staircase. Nessa moved over to it. Her borrowed lantern was only able to brighten the first few steps, but she saw that they were narrow and steep, and didn’t seem to have any cracks or obvious signs of being loose. Nessa allowed the spectral memory to pull her forward. She allowed it to urge her down the staircase.
Nessa eyed the darkness that lay before her, beneath her, hesitating.
She swallowed her nerves and continued onward, downwards, heading into the void. As the darkness closed in around her, oppressive and consuming, Nessa couldn’t help but feel like she was being swallowed by a giant creature unseen. Her lantern made a valiant effort against it, casting a protective ring around her. The deeper she went, though, the smaller that circle of light became.
It took a lifetime for Nessa to reach the bottom; at least, that’s how it felt. It almost came as a surprise when her feet left the last step and she found herself standing in a large subterranean room.
“There’s nothing here,” Nessa told herself, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s empty.”
Her words held nothing but the truth, for the only thing in the room was her. There was nothing else. No lanterns. No decorations. Nothing. Nothing to indicate it had ever been used for anything.
“This can’t be right…”
Nessa had been so sure that something awaited her down there, something of significance, pulling her towards it. And yet, as she circled the edge of the room, searching for anything, a hint, a clue, despair settled upon her. Nessa began to doubt herself.
Maybe she had misread it all?
Maybe there was nothing awaiting her?
Maybe there never had been.
Was it a trick of her mind, a foolish hope that she might be able to remember a bit of her past, even if it was a sliver of an inconsequential moment in time? Anything would be better than nothing as far as Nessa was concerned.
Nessa was halfway around the room when the sense of familiarity left her, the ghost of a memory cruelly abandoning her. She staggered, catching up against the curved stone wall, the feeling of loss and emptiness almost too much to bear. The lantern dangled precariously from numb fingertips, banging against her knee, the flame flickering and dancing, the light skipping and jumping.
Following the shape of the stairs, Nessa turned her gaze upwards, knowing that she should start making her way back to the guest house before Orm and Hunter lost their minds to worry, wondering where she was. They’d get Aoife to contact her before long. Nessa couldn’t face Aoife yet, not after their earlier argument, and definitely not after losing her grip on another hidden memory. There were too many emotions brewing between them, and there would be too many questions. It wouldn’t end well.
The sky was a dark disk high above her, only a shade or two lighter than the darkness which swallowed much of the sunken room, clinging to the walls and the stairs like velvet drapes. She was loath to venture up there, unwilling to transverse through those lonely streets again.
A flicker of movement came from the top of the stairs. There and gone in a blink of an eye. Nessa frowned, taking a step forward. A bird, perhaps. Or, given the late hour, a rat.
Whatever it was, Nessa took it as a sign to go.
She went to cross over to the stairs but was brought up short. Something had snagged her woollen dress, ensnaring her. She twisted around, trying to free herself without ripping a hole, and noticed that her skirt had been caught on a rough edge of stone.
How intriguing.
There was an impression in the wall, shallow and inconspicuous, tall and fairly narrow. It was like something had been pressed into the wall, leaving behind an imprint that was no deeper than a finger’s breadth. The stone brick on which Nessa had been caught formed the lip of the impression, a sharp line that fashioned a defined frame.
Unsnagging herself, Nessa turned and peered at the impression, her head cocked to the side.
“It’s different,” she whispered faintly, detached. Her hand rose, and her palm pressed flat against the centre of the impression, the
stone cool and smooth to the touch. “There should be… Wasn’t there a…?”
A soft sigh came from behind her. Then a quiet shuffle.
Fingers curled over Nessa’s shoulder, heavy and biting, digging in under her collarbone, a thumb pressed into her scapula. Nessa was pinned in place.
“Wasn’t there a…what?”
Chapter 26
That voice.
His voice.
Deep and resonating, it invoked something in her, a mixture of emotions too rich and too complex for her to ever unravel.
Nessa froze, unable to move, almost unable to breathe. Her hand fell away from the wall as the grip on her shoulder tightened and she was spun around. Another hand clamped down, holding her, steadying her.
Capturing her.
Nessa knew who she’d be facing before her gaze swept over his features. Still, it came as a surprise when shockingly dark-blue eyes locked with hers.
If Nessa wasn’t caught in his grip, then the weight of his stare alone would have held her immobile.
The mysterious stranger from the den had found her.
Nessa’s eyes ran over his features, drinking him in, just as he was doing with her. She absorbed the smallest of details, like how long his eyelashes were and how his hair, thick and dark, fell around his face, framing his handsome features. Time meant nothing. It was suddenly a silly, trivial thing. There was nothing in the world but them. There was no gloomy, subterranean room. There was no eerie mist that slowly crept down the spiral stairs.
It was just her and him.
Tall and well built, muscular, he easily dwarfed Nessa. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her stranger swallowed, his throat working, and Nessa’s gaze lowered. She became transfixed. A torc rested around the base of his neck, sitting just above the collar of his black overcoat, twinkling in the dancing lantern light. It was made from fine silver wire that had been painstakingly woven together into an intricate pattern. On each end was a terminal that featured a large, gleaming gem which shimmered with mystic, blue light. It was beautiful. It was damning.
He was no ordinary man.
Nessa knew that from her hours poring over old tomes and diaries, listening to Orm’s and Hunter’s teachings. Only those from the Twelve Houses were permitted to wear torcs, and as Nessa gazed at the blue gems, she recalled that only a select few were allowed to wear bejewelled ones.
Nessa’s blood turned to ice as the realisation dawned on her. This man, her mysterious stranger from the den, was a Dragon Rider.
But which one?
Nessa racked her brain, combing through everything she knew about the Houses and their Riders. Including King Kaenar, there were fourteen Dragon Riders, and the gems in their torcs were actually shell fragments they collected when their dragons’ eggs hatched. Dragons’ shells match the colour of their scales, and the colour of each dragon’s Rider’s eyes changes over time to also match their scales. Nessa had been unnerved when she’d learned that her chocolate-brown eyes would someday turn purple. This Rider’s eyes, though, were a deep blue. There were only two Riders with blue dragons. One was Tolan of House Mægen. The other was…
Fear rushed through Nessa in a sickly wave as she put the pieces together. Tolan’s dragon, she knew, was a light blue, a deceptively delicate shade not too dissimilar to apatite or sky-blue topaz. She’d seen Tolan and his dragon from afar a couple of times, flying together over the city in a show of power and strength, a reminder to the civilians of the Dragon Riders’, and King Kaenar’s, supremacy.
This Rider’s eyes were too dark, though, and the gems in his torc were more like sapphire than apatite or topaz.
If this isn’t Tolan, then that means he’s…
“Who are you?” Nessa breathed. She needed to hear it aloud. The truth seemed too preposterous to believe otherwise.
Eyes as dark and as hard as the gemstone they resembled ran over Nessa’s face, deep and fathomless. “You already know the answer to that,” the Rider murmured. “Do you really need to be told it?”
Images of a room swathed in inky blackness and sinister forests arose. It was a struggle to keep her eyelids from fluttering closed. His voice washed over her, soft and caressing, strong and commanding, and oh-so familiar. His scent, sandalwood and something else, something rawer, primal perhaps, filled her with a strange range of emotions, encompassing everything from fear to longing, sadness to relief.
“Say it,” he urged. “Say my name.”
“Shadow.” It was a gasp, barely detectable over the sound of her ragged breathing.
The wall met her back, hard and unyielding. He crowded her against it, boxing her in.
“Yes, my little wildcat,” Shadow purred, his blue eyes gleaming. His breath caressed her cheek as he bent down, bringing his head level with hers. “I am he. Now, little wildcat, tell me this: was that a process of elimination or do you remember?”
“Remember?” Nessa whispered. It was hard to think straight with him so close, with him invading every one of her senses. “Remember what, exactly?”
“Me.”
Nessa looked away. At least, she tried to. Shadow’s hands left her shoulders, sliding up her neck and cupping her face. She had no option but to look at him. His eyes searched hers, seeking her secrets. Nessa was helpless against him, trapped and spellbound.
“Yes,” she said against her will. “No.” Nessa frowned. “I don’t know.”
Shadow pressed his thumbs into her jaw, mirrored on either side of her chin, and tilted her face up. The back of her head met the wall. His actions were gentle, and yet, there was no room for resistance. Nessa couldn’t resist anyway. Her legs had turned to jelly, and her thoughts were a million miles away. Not a single fibre of Nessa’s being wanted to be anywhere but there. There with him.
The space between them was practically nonexistent. Nessa could feel the soft brush of his breath on her brow. She could perceive the heat of his body seeping through her layers of clothing, warming her in ways she didn’t want to understand.
Nessa wanted him closer.
She needed him closer.
With a clatter, the lantern she was holding fell to the ground, landing on its side. The flame sputtered and hissed in protest before resuming its hectic, little dance. Nessa’s hands rose as if they had a mind of their own, slipping over his. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel calluses and fine scars on his knuckles and palms, evidence of his years of swordsmanship and combat.
“I can see it,” Shadow whispered, his voice velvety and hypnotising, his lips inching ever closer to hers, “I can see. It’s in your eyes. It’s already happening. We don’t have long now.”
Nessa blinked as his words slowly filtered through the ever-growing haze in her mind. “What…what’s already happening?”
“Shhh.” Shadow closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in thought. “It’s too soon. Things aren’t in place yet.” Absently, a thumb began caressing her cheek, stroking back and forth, back and forth, rough but also soft. Nessa wasn’t sure if he was aware of what he was doing, of the effect he was having on her.
“Shadow?” Nessa swallowed, trying to gather her questions, her fragmented thoughts, into a cohesive bundle.
“Mmm?”
“Shadow,” she tried again, finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Her cheeks, under his touch, were growing painfully hot. It felt like fire was burning beneath her skin, flowing through her veins. “What…what are you talking about?”
“You’re too strong for your own good,” Shadow murmured, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “The block was meant to give me more time, but I was too rushed. It didn’t work how I had intended.”
His words were a shock of cold water, jolting and painful. The haze clouding her mind vanished, and the fear and panic that she should have felt from the very start swooped down on her, grasping her with cruel talons.
Nessa tore herself free from Shadow, spinning away as he stumbled forwards a step, taken by surprise. His ey
es snapped open, and he moved with inhuman speed. Shadow’s arm whipped out in a blur, a hand wrapping around Nessa’s wrist before she could make an escape.
“Where do you think you’re going, little wildcat?” he asked, all softness gone from his tone. The intoxicating spell had broken utterly and completely for both of them. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Nessa twisted her wrist, trying to squirm out of his hold. His grip, though, was unyielding. No matter how hard Nessa yanked or struggled, it didn’t loosen, not even a little bit.
“You,” she gasped, disbelieving. “You’re the one who put the mental block in my head? You’re the one who took everything from me?”
“I didn’t take,” Shadow asserted with a scowl. “I gave. It was the best I could do given the circumstance.”
“The circumstance,” Nessa scoffed, fear gave way to anger. How could he possibly think that? How would taking my memories, the things that help shape me into who I was, be a gift? “And what circumstance would that be? The one where you and Margan kidnapped me? Or the one where the two of you locked me away in who-knows-where? I’d be happy to give you a few more possibilities, but I seem to be experiencing some memory problems. I’m sure you know all about that, seeing as you’re the one who caused them.”
A muscle ticked in Shadow’s jaw as he stared down at her, his eyes darkening and becoming unreadable. His countenance became guarded. “Do you fear me?”
“Yes,” Nessa said instantly. She then paused, a frown growing. The word tasted false on her tongue. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
Shadow tilted his head to the side, looking at Nessa from head to toe like she was an enigma, a puzzle he had yet to solve. Who was she, a girl not yet eighteen, compared to him and the things he had seen and experienced in the centuries he had weathered? Could anything really be a mystery to him?
Shadow’s grip on her wrist loosened, and when Nessa made no move to flee, his hand fell away from her completely.
“No,” Nessa murmured, growing surer of herself and what she felt towards him. “No, I don’t fear you. Not as much as I know I should.”
House of Blood and Bone Page 28