by T. M. Hart
Feeling adventurous, I leaned forward in my seat. "Would you ever consider showing me your true form?" I asked.
Maxim seemed to be mulling something over.
"I'm sorry. Is it rude for me to ask that?"
"Not at all," Maxim reassured. "If anything, it is rude of me not to have offered. After all, what if my witch escapes? Then I will be forced to interact with you without the aid of a glamour. You would not recognize me in such a situation. It is best I do show you my true face, so that you may know me in all instances."
I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders. "When? Here, now?"
"Yes, absolutely. Prepare yourself."
Maxim closed his eyes and cleared his throat. He began to hum. I shifted in my seat, unsure if I really wanted to see him change.
The humming got louder and louder, building to a crescendo. Then he whipped to his feet, shouting, "Behold the glory of true Shadow form!" before ripping his shirt open and flinging his head back. "RAWWR!"
Only . . . there was no change. He looked exactly the same as he collapsed back into his chair. The only difference was that now his highly muscled torso was on display. And it looked like prim and proper Maxim had some kind of tattoo on one side of his chest.
"What happened? Are you okay? It didn't work." I reached my hand across the table to touch his arm, concerned for him.
Maxim's face contorted, and he began to . . . laugh.
A cocktail waitress walked past, and he tried to flip up the hem of her skirt. "Let's see under that glamour. Give us a peek, love!"
She glowered and batted his hand away as she continued delivering drinks. Maxim broke out into boisterous laughter once more.
I sat back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest. "You're mocking me."
"Can you blame me?" he questioned through his laughter. "You just accused me–of us all," he amended, spreading his arms wide, "of holding witches captive in exchange for glamours."
"You don't?"
He scowled. "No. Sorry to disappoint you, Violet, but this is what we look like. What monstrous idea of us do you have?"
"Let me get this straight. You don't wear glamours?"
He pinched the bridge of nose. "No."
"You're not planning on eating me?"
"No!"
"But you are cannibals in general.” I stated it as a fact.
He let out an exasperated breath. "By and large, we are mostly vegetarians. But any who do eat meat consume animals, not fellow Shadows."
"Your homes?" I persisted. "Are they underground?" Having now been to the Dark Manor as well as this little town, I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
Maxim simply shook his head.
"Is any of what I've heard true?"
Maxim downed the drink in front of him before looking around as if about to conspire. Leaning in, he crooked his finger, indicating he wanted me to come close. With our heads bowed, he whispered. "I'm afraid there is one rumor which is undoubtedly true."
I nodded, encouraging him to go on.
Then he glanced down, whispering with agony. "We are tragically well endowed." He threw his head back and raised his arms to the ceiling shouting, "Why, gods, have you cursed us so?!"
This time I couldn't help but smile. I reached up and grabbed his arm, pulling it down. "Alright, point taken."
He looked at his empty tumbler on the table. "I say, you do not seem phased by all this alcohol consumption." He squinted his eyes at me. "Have you been spitting your drinks out?"
I patted his hand. "No, big guy." I downed the whiskey in front of me. "I can just handle my drink."
I stood up. "And now, if you will excuse me, I must visit the restroom."
"How odd. This is very unlike you, Violet. Shouldn't you dive from your chair rolling through the pub and sprinting for the facilities with the small bladder aliment you tragically possess?"
I raised an eyebrow at Maxim, thoroughly enjoying this side of him, before turning for the bar and inquiring as to the whereabouts of the loo. The bartender thrust his head towards the back hall and grunted. "Outhouse. Alley."
I stifled a wince at having to use an outhouse and headed back. But before I exited through the rear door, a bright red flyer hanging on a bulletin board caught my eye. It had only three words printed on it, and an odd little symbol which looked like three crescent moons intertwined.
JOIN THE REVOLUTION
Not knowing what it was, not knowing what it would one day lead to… I snatched the flyer from the bulletin board and tucked it into the depths of my clutch, where it joined my arsenal of shiny weapons.
Chapter 9
The little outhouse wasn’t that bad. The air inside the structure was fresh and the toilet flushed. There was a charming spigot emerging from the stone wall with a basin below. There was even a mirror hanging in one corner in which I gave myself a once over before leaving.
After seeing the inside of the pub as well as this little outhouse, I began to suspect that although the town appeared to be very much left in medieval times, amenities had been added to the structures in an attempt to modernize the facilities and make the overall living arrangements more comfortable.
As I emerged from the outhouse into the alleyway, I was feeling somewhat positive about the night's events. But the moment I crossed the threshold of the wooden door, a big, beefy hand clamped down on my wrist.
I looked up into the sweaty face of the bartender.
"You haven't settled your tab," he drawled.
I tried to twist my wrist from his grasp. "Alright," I snapped. "We'll settle it inside. Now get your hand off me."
He squeezed tighter, pulling me into him. "I think I'll take my payment out here."
When I realized what this miserable excuse for a being meant, a hot fury began to well inside my chest. "I see," I replied. "And if I refuse?"
He laughed, and spittle escaped his lips. "I'll be taking my payment with or without your consent." He leaned his red face down to mine. "I prefer it if you struggle, chit."
I let a slow evil smile spread across my lips. "Oh, you're in for a treat then."
He looked confused at my response. But confusion quickly gave way to anger. He pushed me against the outer wall of the pub and held me by my neck with one hand. With his other hand he shoved the waist of his pants down before grabbing my dress to yank it up.
I held up a finger. Although my airway was cut off, I rasped out a few words. "Just one question."
His anger over my lack of submission intensified. His face became enraged and his hold on my neck tightened. Still I persisted in a barely audible wheeze. "How many women . . . ?"
Although I lacked the ability to finish my question, he understood. A cold gleam shinned in his beady little eyes and a perverse smile spread across his mouth. "No bloody idea. Sorry, love," He leaned in, placing his face next to mine. "There's absolutely nothing special about you."
I turned my face and bit off his ear.
His scream tore through the quiet night air, echoing in the little alley. He stumbled back from me, pressing his hand to the bloody hole on the side of his head. "You fucking bitch! I was going to let you live! Now I'm going to kill you when I'm done!"
He made a grab for me, but I ducked him and spun out from the wall. When he turned around, I introduced my foot to his face.
There was a loud crack and blood gushed from his nose. He didn't go down but staggered back into the wall. He blinked. Wild-eyed. Angry and confused.
I let out a shrill laugh. A soft glow lit the space of the alleyway between us, and I knew my eyes were alight. A light breeze stirred then, lifting my hair and cloak. I could feel the bastard's blood around my mouth and chin. And I knew this deplorable man held an eerie sight before him.
The look of anger on his face turned to terror, and he began to inch along the wall towards the door.
Wanting him to suffer, to know unadulterated fear, I slowly lifted the hem of my dress up my leg and grasped the dagger
of Light I had strapped to my thigh.
He turned to make a run for it, but I grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the wall, even though he had a good eight inches on me. He didn't struggle. Fear had made him weak and compliant.
"Please . . ." he tried. "Mercy."
I cackled. "Did you show mercy to all those women? Do you honestly believe you deserve mercy?"
I raised the dagger. "And yet, mercy you shall receive. You deserve the same done to you for every single woman you've harmed. Instead, you shall receive the gift of death . . . There is your mercy."
But, I didn't kill him. I wanted to. I was going to. However, just as I was about impale his heart, I heard a drunken voice splutter, "What the fuck?!"
I turned towards the door and saw Maxim standing there with the two assisting agents.
I let my arm drop and muttered. "Well, shit."
◆◆◆
Maxim paced back and forth over the Persian rug in my sitting room while his two goons flanked the suite doors. Maxim had sobered up in quite a hurry, silently fuming the entire drive home. At the moment he was grumbling to himself in the Dark Tongue. I didn't know what he was saying, but it didn't sound good.
I tried to sit quietly. I tried to be patient. I really did. But after a certain point, I just wanted to get things over with.
"Look, Maxim, about what you saw—"
His head jerked up and he stared at me with black eyes. "About what I saw?" he asked. "About what I saw?!"
He gestured behind him. "May I introduce you to Rheneas and Stefan who also saw. May I remind you of the pub owner who saw. And may I inform you that the inn on the other side of the alley was full of people watching the commotion from the windows above.
"Had it only been me who'd witnessed your little display, things may not be so dire. But as it is, an entire village is now aware of not only your presence but fearful of you! I can guarantee that you became the topic of conversation this evening. I doubt there will be anyone in town who has not heard of the evening's events. They will be talking about the Radiant female within our midst who is eating Shadows!"
The irony of his comment was not lost on me, but I balked at his words. He raised his brows and held his breath, as if daring me to argue. When I remained silent, he continued.
"Do you know what happens to people who are fearful? They become angry and violent. They focus on annihilating that which is causing them fear. You have just become our resident monster. You have—unequivocally—made your presence known."
"So what?" I countered. "That guy was about to rape me. And he admitted to raping countless others. Was I supposed to just let him? I demand he be punished for his crimes!
"And why the hell is my presence a secret anyway? None of this makes any sense! You guys come to me with this proposal, and there were two possible outcomes.
"There was the very minuscule possibility that the proposition was sincere or there was the very likely possibility that it was a ploy to assassinate me. There was no third possibility where I become the secret, secluded charge of the Shadow Court's Master-at-arms."
Maxim raised a hand to stop me. "I told you, we want to be sure that your safety is secured before revealing that you have become the Shadow Court's new princess. The general reaction to this announcement promises to be extremely volatile."
I was tired. Any wish to argue my point left me. I shook my head and looked at Maxim. I barely knew him, but I believed he was honorable . . . a word I never would have thought to use when describing a Shadow.
"Something else is going on, Maxim. Whether you know it or not, something else is at play here."
He didn't look away, but his jaw ticked. And I knew that he had had a similar suspicion. "I carry out orders. That is what I do. Right now, my orders are to keep your presence unknown and to keep you safe. How do you suggest I do so when you are out picking a fight with someone three times your size?"
"Are you kidding me?! If anyone needed protecting it was him from me! You have no idea what I could have done to that asshole."
I bit my lip. Check yourself, Vi.
"Oh please, I am well aware of your penchant for brawling."
"What?"
"I was notified that the proposal would be extended to you. I was told you would most likely accept. And I was told that I would promptly be removed from all current duties to guard you. I immediately traveled to the Radiant Court in order to observe and learn all I could about you. The very first night I was there, you were out picking fights."
"Picking fights?!" I screeched. I had no idea when Maxim had watched me, but the only time I was ever outside of the court grounds fighting was when I was working with our unit.
"Try, protecting my people—innocent people—from Shadow attacks!" I narrowed my eyes. "And if you were out there watching, why didn't you do anything to stop it? Barrister Corbett claims they're a rogue faction, yet the Shadow Court's very own Master-at-arms does nothing to stop them."
I marched up to Maxim and stuck my finger in his chest. With my voice measured I told him, "I don't know what is going on here. But I can promise you that I am going to find out. And I can guarantee you that I will not be kept. I will leave this place as I please, and you can be damn sure that I will defend myself whenever necessary. I don't care who's watching."
I took a step back from Maxim and crossed my arms over my chest. He looked like he was going to say something but then decided against it. Instead, with his jaw tightened he gave a formal bow. "If it be your will, I shall excuse myself now, your majesty."
"Before you go, answer me one question," I insisted.
Maxim gave a tight nod.
"Are you the Shadow Prince?"
"Violet! Is there no end to your absurd assumptions?!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What cockamamie, hair-brained conspiracy theory will you come up with next?"
"So you deny it?"
"With a resounding and emphatic yes!"
I gave a shrug before gesturing to the door. "Then by all means, enjoy your evening, Master-at-arms."
If Maxim had been the type of person to roll his eyes, I think he would have at that point. Instead, he turned and left with Rheneas and Stefan silently following behind.
I stood there for a moment, not knowing what I was going to do next. But before I had a chance to retreat to my room, I heard those shuffling footsteps outside my suite doors.
The Crone entered without knocking. She hobbled in, the hood of her ragged robe drawn once again, cloaking her face.
Limping and carrying that heavy dinner tray, she headed straight for the dining room.
"Hello, good evening," I greeted. Although I cringed at watching her struggle with the tray, I refrained from offering to help. I didn't want to piss her off again.
"I'm terribly sorry. I failed to introduce myself last night. I was a little overwhelmed. I apologize for forgetting my manners. My name is Violet. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
She shuffled by without acknowledging me. After she set the tray down on the dining table, she began to make her way to the door.
"And you are . . . ?" I prompted.
She hobbled out the door, closing it behind her.
"Great! Nice to meet you," I called after her before muttering, "you old bat."
I flopped down onto the settee, annoyed and confused. I really didn't know where to go from here. I looked around as if I could find some answers. There were none to be found.
The only sound in the room was the crackling fire, but after a moment of sitting there, I thought I heard something else. I closed my eyes and held my breath.
I thought I could hear . . . music. But it was so faint, I couldn't be certain. I strained to listen, not moving for several moments.
I wasn't entirely certain if it was coming from somewhere in the manor or if it was merely a figment of my imagination–some bleak and dreary soundtrack my mind was providing to underscore my haunted surroundings.
However, as
I sat there, still as the dead, it was not the imperceptible music which crept into my mind but something else. Something less melodious and more rhythmic. Delicate, wispy threads.
Whispers.
They called to me from the fire, murmuring my name over and over again. Urging me to slumber. To dream. Soft and fragile, but insistent. Whispering . . . whispering . . . Entering my mind and then dissolving into thin air, not to be captured by memory, gone and forgotten the moment they were heard.
Hundreds of whispers snaking around my mind in airy tendrils, until I entered that plane of existence where thoughts coalesce. And I had no choice but to dream.
Chapter 10
I set about exploring.
Again, I had awakened during the night, hot and sweaty having dreamt of a dark figure. And again, I believed Maxim must have been the cause for my dreams . . . which was infuriating.
Adding to my frustration was the fact that there was nothing to find in this god forsaken place. I spent the entire day searching the manor a second time. Each room, each closet, every bookshelf was inspected with nothing to find but dusty old furniture and layers of cobwebs.
Under all the grime, however, it seemed that the manor was a place of pristine opulence. If someone simply took the time for a thorough cleaning and opened all the shutters to let in some air and sunshine, this place would be luxuriant. Aside from a boarded-up area in the foyer, the manor was overall in excellent condition.
After finding nothing of significance inside, I turned my attention to the surrounding landscape. I went over the grounds, gardens, stable, and utility structures. But my efforts were in vain.
It had all been forgotten. All abandoned. No one had set foot upon this land in ages. Vines and bramble grew over every path and each framework. Thorns and burs were getting stuck in the running sneakers and workout pants I wore. And because of all this, I searched halfheartedly, knowing it was a waste of time.
The last building to search was the stable. I had to give the old wood door a few kicks to get it to budge. When I was finally able to get the door open, I couldn't help but think what a shame it was.