by T. M. Hart
She paused to swallow and leaned her hands on the dining table for support. “Carry the rest in your pocket and he will not be able to seduce you when awake either.” The blood began to gush from her nose faster. “Go now. Time is up.”
I wanted to ask her what she was doing here. Why she was in a little Shadow village in the south of England. I wanted to ask her if it was true that the Shadows were not holding witches captive for glamours. But I could see she was reaching a breaking point.
“Thank you,” I told her. Instead of asking any questions, I turned to leave. As I reached for the door, I noticed a bulletin board on the back of it. Tacked there was a red flyer.
The paper had that black symbol of the three crescents intertwined. The same as the flyer I snatched from the pub. In addition to the JOIN THE REVOLUTION text, this one had an additional message included on it. The paper was scorched as if it had been held too close to a flame.
I glanced back at Belcalis. She was still leaning over the table with her back to me except now she had begun to shake. I snatched the flyer and shoved it into my bag as I flew out the door and into the street to resume my spot next to Maxim.
In a snap, the street came back to life. Maxim completed his step, the gas lamps flickered, and the breeze stirred the night air as if it had never been interrupted.
The whole experience was jarring for me, but no one milling about the street seemed to notice anything amiss. I tried to hop back into step with Maxim, but it was rather awkward, so I pretended to stumble.
Maxim grabbed my elbow and tried to steady me. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, fine,” I reassured him. “But as I was saying, I can see this stand doesn’t have what I was looking for. I am ready to return to the manor.”
Before we left, Maxim gave me an odd look . . . And I couldn’t tell if he glanced at the clutch by my side or not.
Chapter 15
The loud crash wrenched me from sleep. It was followed by shattering and the splintering of wood. An enraged roar ripped through my quarters louder than all the other sounds of destruction.
I bolted up in bed and looked around. I was confused and disoriented. There was no sunlight pouring in through the windows, and it took me a moment to understand that it was dusk. I reminded myself that it had been just before sunrise when Maxim had dropped me off, and the sun had been shining brightly by the time I had gone to sleep. It seemed I had slept the entire day.
Somewhere nearby a frenzied pounding began, and with each stomp was the crunch of delicate materials.
I realized I was waging a war within myself. There was a need and want so deep, I thought I would implode from lack of fulfillment. But it was a desire I did not wish to possess. One I refused to give in to. I had been through much greater tests than this. I would not succumb.
But that was a deeper battle. What drove me now was the resentment and fury which blanketed all else. I needed to lash out. I needed recompense. My demons were leashed, but by no means tame. They rattled the bars of their cage, demanding to be fed.
I tried to breathe, to focus. To calm the chaotic cyclone of energy whirling through me. With each inhale came a gradual clarity . . . These were not my thoughts and emotions.
I grabbed the small bag from next to my pillow and jumped out of the bed. The thin line of white powder I had poured that morning still encircled the bed in an unbroken circumference.
With the bag clutched to my chest, I dashed to the suite doorway. I pressed my body against the door, listening. He was out there in the hall. But I had the spelled mixture this time. I would have the upper hand.
I opened the door.
There was no reason to. No need to. I could have stayed within the protected circle of the bed. Or at least within the bedroom which had become a safe haven of sorts. But there was a pull. Each time I sensed him, there was an inexplicable pull. I was drawn to him. It wasn’t even a facet of our interactions that I was fully aware of. It just was.
He paced the floor, stomping over littered debris. It looked like he had thrown both the side table and antique vase which had sat in the hallway. Their pieces now littered the space, and an icy chill hung in the air.
I tried to send a flare of energy to the chandelier hanging above, but it was snuffed out before reaching the candles. It didn’t matter. I preferred the light, but I didn’t need it.
His voice was a growl from the shadows. “You were supposed to leave.” I could see his hands clenching and flexing over and over again.
“I told you I wasn’t,” I replied.
He began to trudge towards me, pausing in between steps. I could feel the frenzied battle within. He was warring with himself. He did not want to come close to me, but he needed to.
I had lit fires in both hearths of the sitting room with a flick of my wrists as I had passed by in my haste for the suite door. The chandelier within was also ablaze. The light from my suite bled into the darkness of the hall. And as he crossed into its glow, I could see the black branching into the crystal blue of his irises. Those eyes were narrowed on me, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
He made a grab for me. But I flung the spelled powder at him. It smattered across his face and drifted in a cloud around him.
It had worked. He had stopped in his tracks. Only . . . he didn’t look vanquished.
I have been in many battles throughout my life. There is a certain look an opponent has once he knows he is defeated. It’s always there if you know what to look for.
But there was no realization of defeat on his face. If anything, he looked confused and irritated. He did begin to cough on the powder though, and he wiped it from his eyes.
I took a step back into the anteroom. I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. However, as soon as I took the retreating step, he picked his head up, lasering his focus back onto me. He advanced, entering the suite.
“What was that?” His voice was a deadly growl.
“Something to stop you,” I replied.
He lunged and grabbed my wrist pulling me into him. “It didn’t work.”
Being close to him, having my body pressed into his . . .
“You. Leave. Now,” he gritted. And he began to pull me. I had no doubt he would drag me down all five flights of stairs if that was what it took to get rid of me.
I dug down to find the full effect of my power and I hurled a blast of Light straight into him. Instead of dropping my wrist or stumbling backwards, he stood his ground. Yet, he shuddered and then took a gasping breath as if he had been without air for far too long.
I braced myself, expecting his rage to redouble. But instead, he seemed slightly eased, as if a little of the chaos and frenzy had been subdued. He closed his eyes to take a more calming breath, and when he opened them, the black had been erased leaving behind untarnished crystal blue. Dropping my wrist, he took a step back from me.
Even with the space between us, I had to look up at him. Again he wore a black shirt, opened down the middle, and I inanely wondered if he ever wore anything else. The thought made me self-conscious.
I realized I was standing there in a flimsy nightgown with loose, disheveled hair. It made me feel too exposed. Too vulnerable.
He eyed me, and it was as though the sight of me alone maddened him. “Leave.”
I marched over to the coffee table and seized the little black box that had been sitting there. I had yet to open it again. It had been inspected and deemed safe, free of any magics or spells, but I could not bring myself to wear the ring Barrister Corbett had presented.
I tossed the box at his feet. “Who extended this proposal?” I demanded.
He said nothing. He didn’t even glance at the box. He just stared at me.
“It obviously wasn’t you,” I continued.
“Leave,” he repeated. Even when angry, his voice had a deep silky caress to it, and I stifled a shudder.
My own irritation rose, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “I. Can’t.” I fought the urg
e to take a step closer to him. “I have asked to be taken to the Shadow Court—”
He clenched his jaw and looked away. As if fighting against better judgement he bit out one word. “Don’t.”
“Well, I can’t. I don’t know where it is, and no one is responding to my request.”
“Go somewhere else. Go home.”
I huffed. “How exactly do you propose I do that? I have requested a vehicle. That request has been denied. I have also been informed that there is a ward in place around here and the surrounding area. Even if I wanted to have one of the Angela pulse me out, they could not reach me.
“And on top of all that, no one’s tried to kill me . . . no one’s tried to announce this marriage . . ." This time I did take a step closer to him, and I drilled him with a look. Maybe if I stared hard enough into him, I could read his mind. “So why am I here?”
“It does not matter. You are not wanted here. Return to your home.”
“You need me,” I countered.
A sneer formed across his face, and even with condescension dripping from his every pore, he looked too gorgeous for words. “What could I possibly need you for?”
I made my way into the bedroom and retrieved the flyer from my clutch. When I returned to the sitting room, he was standing in the same spot, but the fires had banked down making the room less bright. I knew it had been his doing. Just to be difficult, I stoked them higher.
Careful not to touch his skin, I thrust the flyer at him. He didn’t take it.
I shook it in front of him. “Your people are revolting. You have the beginnings of a revolution on your hands. Something needs to be done to ease dissent. I can help. That is supposed to be what this marriage is all about. Take me to the Shadow Court. Let me help.”
I looked at the flyer again. It was the same as the first I had procured from the pub except Belcalis’s copy looked like it had been held over a flame. The additional text on the second flyer provided a date, time, and location as well as a short blurb:
Those in power have failed us,
The decaying courts must die.
Our voices will be silenced no longer,
They will hear our battle cry.
I didn’t understand why courts was plural. Perhaps the Shadows had several branches to their system. I needed to get inside and figure all this out. I had to find out where this unrest was stemming from and find a solution.
“It doesn’t matter,” came the low reply. “None of it does.”
I looked back up and realized something . . . He didn’t care.
“How can you say that?” I asked “This could turn violent. People could die.”
“If they are too stupid to understand their place then they deserve to.”
I don’t know why I was surprised by his response. I shouldn’t have been. It’s exactly the disposition I should have expected from him.
I was angry at myself for forgetting about the monster that he was. I clenched the flyer in my fist. He had reminded me why I was here. Why it was so imperative that I stay.
I decided to try and employ the same tactics that Maxim was currently using on me. I would be agreeable . . . and stall.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll leave. But I can’t go tonight. I need to make some arrangements first.” I turned my back on him and began to cross through the room, heading for my bedroom. “And the hallway better be cleaned up if you expect me to walk through there on my way out.”
Then I did something that was probably inadvisable. But I didn’t care. My attitude had gotten the better of me.
I walked out on the Dark Prince—sauntering the whole way with an extra swish of my hips. Just before I turned the corner of the hall though, I sent a flick of energy behind me, not bothering to glance back, and stoked the fires with a loud pop.
◆◆◆
I grabbed my brush and sat on my bed. The windows to my room showed nothing but darkness now. I had the fire in the large hearth going and the chandelier was lit. If I couldn’t have sunlight, then warm, cozy firelight was the next best thing.
I had made sure not to disrupt the circle of powder surrounding the bed. Belcalis’s spell hadn’t seemed to work, but I left the protective ring unbroken . . . just in case.
Having slept for the whole day, I was up for the evening, it seemed. There was a lot to accomplish and I began to make a mental list of what I would need to do.
I should check in with Killian. I needed to find a way to see Belcalis again. I also had to discover the location printed on the flyer. I would need to attend that rally. I desperately needed to visit the Shadow Court. I would have to find a way to get there.
And as much as I didn’t want to, I needed to spend more time interacting with him. He had dodged my first attempt with such ease. There would come a second time when I would need to strike. And when that time came, I would have to land a killing blow.
I needed to uncover more about him. Find his faults, his weaknesses. Knowing as much as I could about him was my best chance for success. And if there was some minute way in which I could gain his trust and make him see me as any ally, it would be all the better.
I was going to call Killian first. I was. But sitting on the bed with the hypnotic firelight, I began to hear something.
Whispers. So faint. Not truly detectable. But there. They began to float all around me. Through my mind. Murmuring gossamer secrets and then drifting away in a little tendril of smoke. Having never been.
They told my chest to rise. To breathe deep and slow. They told my eyes to close. But they did not tell me to dream. This time they told me to rise. They beckoned me outside.
Come and see the brilliant night. Breathe the cool crisp air. Feel the damp earth on your toes. The moon shines for you, lovely girl.
I listened. I had no choice but to listen and heed their call. But before I reached the door, I stopped. I need clothes, I thought. I wear a flimsy gown.
Come. Come, they urged. You need nothing but your open heart. Come. See how your skin sparkles in the moonlight.
I hesitated. The Dark One . . .
He does not leave the manor. Come. We wait for you.
All the way through the dark halls and down the stairs they sighed and murmured. And once I was outside, I saw how right they were. I had never known the night as it was then. The peace and beauty of it glimmered as if enchanted.
This way, they called. And the large wrought iron gate swung open soundlessly. Come.
I crossed through the gate and entered the tree tunnel. It was black, and I could not see. But one by one the grand oaks lifted their branches revealing the night sky above. The twinkling light of stars glittered down and lit the path.
This way. Hurry!
I began to run. The night air streamed through my hair, and I could feel the delicate cotton of my nightgown envelope my figure.
Smile, lovely girl. You are free!
And I did smile then. I tilted my head up to the night sky and took in the beauty of it all. After I had ran for an untold amount of time those whispers spoke to me again.
Here. Here, they told me. In the clearing. Over here.
I veered off the path and through some trees until I reached a clearing by a small stream. But the moment I emerged through the trees, the night shifted.
And I learned just how quickly a beautiful dream can become a nightmare.
Chapter 16
The spell was broken in an instant. The magic, the dreamy quality, the twinkling light—it all disappeared, and I was plunged into the cold darkness of night.
They had been waiting for me. My only chance was to turn and outrun them. But one was right next to me. It grabbed my arm and flung me forward before I could change course.
I spun in a quick circle trying to assess. Trying to clear my mind. Trying to process what was happening.
There were three of them. They formed a triangle around me. I didn’t have my dagger. I had no weapons. Without hesitating, I dug deep and sent the most p
owerful blast of energy I could summon all around me.
But instead of acting like a bomb, the pulse was simply absorbed. Gobbled up, like a star devoured by a black hole. It had been present one moment and sucked into nothingness the next.
It was all I had. I would need time to access my power again—to recharge. I now had no choice. I would have to fight.
What made me uneasy was not so much that I was weaponless in the dark wearing a nightgown. What made me uneasy was that I would have to battle an unknown enemy.
They were tall and sickly thin with gray ashen skin. They all had dark hair with lifeless eyes. Their eyes had a reflective quality, like an animal’s, that made them seem to glow in the dark. And each one wore a black robe.
They were the Shadows from our reference books. What I had expected my first night at the Dark Manor. Their true form.
They did not brandish any weapons. And that alarmed me.
They began to close in on me. I charged the one closest. Just before it could make a grab for me, I sprang into a front flip, tumbling directly over it while twisting midair so that I landed behind it, facing its back. It had already begun to turn around. With a sweeping kick that pushed into the direction the Shadow was turning, I struck its sternum.
The strike continued the momentum of its turn causing it to fall to the ground on its chest. At the moment of contact with the ground, the Shadow’s arms lay splayed out to each side. I leapt onto its back in a crouch and grabbed each arm. Then I sprang up, my feet digging into its spine, pinning its torso to the ground while wrenching its arms up. There was a sickening pop and crunch as I dislocated its arms and bones snapped.
I would have grabbed its head and given it a brutal twist as well, but the other were upon me.
I jumped from the back of the first one and sprang at one of the other two. I used the height and positioning of my jump to lock my arms around its head. Then employing the downward momentum of my vault, I yanked the back of its head down in a Muay Thai clinch.