It was the dream voice.
CHAPTER 29Underworld
IT WAS DARK AND COLD.
The air smelled earthy, the kind of freshness the garden had after a spring rain. As Lian’s foggy eyes fluttered open, several white pillar candles came into view, barely lighting the abysmal room enough for her to see.
From ceiling to floor, everything was covered in midnight hues. Or maybe the candles really were that dim. A tapestry where beautiful dark-winged angels swirled through stormy skies hung on the wall opposite the bed. In one corner sat a large gilded mirror atop a glossy black vanity. The shimmery canopy was secured to the tall bed posts, which were also black. From the reflection in the mirror, she saw a rectangular cushioned chest carved with strange symbols resting at the foot of the bed. All of the furniture looked like it had been crafted from onyx and laid with opal accents. While it was sleek and sophisticated, it also had a regal gloom about it.
She ran her hand along the soft, smooth sheets of indigo silk. Fighting the urge to remain in bed, she sluggishly sat up and swung her legs over the side.
What happened? Her head hurt too much to think straight, and even the dim candles seemed too bright.
As she pushed herself off the bed, she knew she should be scared, but she wasn’t. A familiar numbness settled over her as her bare feet touched the floor and she stood, still wobbly from fainting.
That’s right. She had fainted, and it felt like falling through a great black hole into the middle of the earth. Her cheeks tingled, like strong winds had chapped them, but she didn’t know why.
She glanced once more at the tapestry, and the face of the beautiful stranger flashed before her eyes. That man; he had held her in his arms the way a lover might. A blush warmed her face.
A soft, bushy rug poked between her toes, but it did nothing for the room’s chill. Something cool was wound around her neck; she reached up, relieved to feel the teardrop resting at the curve of her bosom. Shivering, Lian realized her tunic had also been removed. Instead, she wore a thin knee-length nightgown. Though it was comfortable, she felt entirely too bare, and she blanched at the thought of the stranger undressing her while she was unconscious.
Her blood froze. What else had he done while she slept? Was she still a virgin? She would know if she wasn’t, wouldn’t she? She didn’t feel any different, aside from the headache.
I have to get out of here.
The room had three doors, and she had no idea which was the exit. Starting with the first, in between the tapestry and dresser, she opened it to find a smaller room designated as a bath chamber, complete with a white porcelain tub and black towels. She slammed it shut and went to the second door beside the headboard. It was a walk-in closet, with racks of expensive dresses and rows of extraordinary shoes stacked neatly at the bottom.
Frustrated and beginning to panic, she ran to the last door on the opposite side of the room, near all the annoying pillar candles.
This has to be it.
She grasped the wrought iron handle and pulled. It was locked.
Tugging until her arms were tired, she switched to pounding on the door with both fists. “Let me out of here!”
“I’m surprised you have this much energy,” said a low voice. It was so close that he might have been speaking directly into her ear.
Suppressing a scream, she whirled around to find a dark figure standing several feet away. What? It sounded like he was right here.
Long, flowing black hair framed an exquisitely handsome face so perfect that it may as well been carved from stone. He wore only a simple black robe that stretched to the floor. Seeing him now, without a mask or when her life wasn’t in immediate danger, allowed her to study his face. He was surprisingly young; he looked to be around nineteen or twenty.
Her heart leapt to her throat. “You.” Stark terror gripped her body, rendering her immobile.
He took one step forward, at which she took a step back. “Relax, my Lady. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No,” she said firmly, stepping away. “No, get away from me.” She automatically began looking around the room for something to use as a make-shift weapon.
Her back bumped into the door, and she pressed both palms against it. Though she pushed, it still wouldn’t budge. With nothing within reach to use as a weapon, she hoped she could run around him and into one of the other rooms, but he was much too close. Trapped, she stared at him defiantly as he closed in on her.
She held her breath, his cool skin pressing against hers as he delicately examined her right hand, which was slightly sore and a little burned. “It appears my brother burned you when he reached for the necklace. How is your wrist?” he asked, seming genuinely concerned.
She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me, you murderer!”
He raised a bemused eyebrow. “I’ve never been called that before. I’m not sure I like it.” His lips curved up in a wicked smile. “I would have preferred charming or handsome.”
She blinked. “How dare you! Do you not have any remorse for what you’ve done?” She was so full of suppressed rage, she felt like she was going to burst out of her skin. At that moment, she felt she very well could tackle him and hold her own.
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Careful, me’ shilah,” he said, “Those accusations are unwarranted. I’m not the one who killed your father.”
What had he just called her? She caught herself before a retort flew off her tongue, and she eyed him suspiciously. What is he talking about? It had to be him. “But you were there. I saw you with my own eyes!”
“Yes, I was there,” he said slowly, “but I would not – did not – kill your father.”
She considered this for several seconds. “Then who did?”
“My older brother, Alastor.” His face grew very grim at the mention of his brother’s name.
“Alastor?” The fact he had killed her father didn’t surprise her as much as the fact they were related.
Now that he mentioned it, he did have the same features as Alastor, dark hair and cool white skin with its odd luminescence. Actually, he reminded her so much of Alastor in that moment she wondered why she hadn’t come to the conclusion herself.
It unnerved her, and it must have shown on her face because right then the man hastily said, “I’m nothing like him. As I said earlier, you have no reason to fear me.”
She took a deep breath, willing herself to keep her emotions in check. She shook her head slowly. Trying to decipher all these secrets and lies was exhausting. “If Alastor was the one who killed him, then what were you doing there?”
He looked at her full-on, a wistful look on his face, and she noticed how truly beautiful his eyes were. They were as blue as the ocean. She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling very exposed in the thin nightgown.
He shook his head and resumed the same unreadable expression he had appeared with. “I was there because I am a Steward of Death,” he said. “I was attempting to claim his soul before my brother did, but I was too late. My brother’s Mark had already been placed upon him. All I could do was to ease his suffering by hastening the inevitable.”
“So you did kill him,” she said, her features hardening.
“No,” he said quickly. “You misunderstand. Alastor feeds on pain; it strengthens him as food and water does a mortal. I lessened his power by ending your father’s anguish sooner rather than drawing it out. I did you, not to mention the rest of the world, a great courtesy.” He dropped his eyes to the floor. “He would have suffered a great deal,” he said softly. “That blade was tipped in Dracor venom. If he’d been reborn…”
“He would have become a monster. Just like Orris,” she said, remembering the broken bottle of liquor in Orris’ hand in the cave. Whether she had liked her father or not, she would never wish that fate upon anyone.
Deep in her heart, she knew he was telling the truth. The earnestness on his face put her at ease, and she felt compelled to trust him. “Than
k you,” she mumbled, trying not to look away. “I’m very, er, grateful for what you’ve done.”
His eyes instantly lit up, and he smiled. “You’re very welcome. Anything for –” He caught himself and suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He looked away from her, and she held her breath. What had he been about to say? Anything for her? Was that why he had come to the ball? For her? He had danced with her after all.
And bewitched you, said her conscious. Besides, you don’t know for sure he was there specifically for you. You think everything’s about you.
She blushed, suddenly feeling very childish. She decided to worry about it later and pushed her theory aside. “So who are you?”
Something shifted in his expression, and she saw the age hidden in his eyes. She suddenly had the sense he was far older than he looked, and she felt sympathy for him. She certainly knew how that felt, the kind of wisdom that comes from having endured hardship.
“I thought I was a murderer?” He gave her a playful smile, but his eyes were still sharp.
She pursed her lips. “I meant your name.”
He bowed grandly at the waist, one hand on his chest, the other sweeping behind his back. “I’ve been the Lord of Darkness, Prince of Nightmares, and a collection of other fascinating titles.”
She stared blankly at him, not sure if he was teasing again or being serious.
“But you may call me Erebus.”
“Erebus? As in, the God of Death?”
He waved a hand. “God, Phantom, King; it makes no difference. It’s all the same to me.”
A wave of drowsiness rolled over her, and she realized how incredibly tired she felt. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that if she kept them closed long enough she would open them to find the world made sense again. Behind her closed lids, fire engulfed her bedroom, setting ablaze her childhood memories.
She jolted awake and was startled to find her back leaning against Erebus’ chest. He shook her gently. “My Lady, are you all right? It looked like you fainted.”
She hastily stepped away from him. “Lianora,” she said, fumbling with one of the straps that had slid off her shoulder. “Or Lian, if you like. And yes, I’m fine.” She looked away, and she could see he was studying her out of the corner of her eye.
“You’re not all right, are you?” he asked quietly.
Why is he being so nice to me? “It’s all so horrible,” she whispered. “All of those people died, and for what?” She could feel her hands shaking as she relived the fear of that night, and her knees folded under her. She sat on the cold floor trembling, trapped inside her nightmares.
He was instantly at her side, but when he made to touch her, he hesitated and pulled back. She sensed his kindness, his need to comfort her.
A string of questions ran through her head. Why does this complete stranger put me at ease? Did he bewitch me again? Where’s the terror I felt earlier? Shouldn’t I be afraid? He kidnapped me after all. And if he really is who he says he is…
Erebus finally placed a hand on her bare shoulder. It felt warm; he had seemed so surreal, too perfect to be flesh and blood, that it surprised her. She thought of the Dracor lunging for her throat. He saved my life. And if it were not for him, Alastor would have my necklace, and most likely, I would be dead. I owe him my life. How do you repay something like that?
Then he said something she was completely not expecting. She thought he might say “It will be all right” or maybe even “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.” Instead, what he said was cold and distant. “Death,” he said, “is neither good nor bad. It just is.”
“It just is.” It sounded so callous.
Not at all what a normal human being would say. She withdrew from him and eyed him warily.
He frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”
An uneasy feeling resurfaced, something that had lurked in the back of her mind.
Gathering her courage, she played with a strand of her hair, which fell in messy curls about her shoulders. Her face burned. “Um, when I was asleep… did you… that is… am I…”
For a moment, he just stared at her blankly. Then his face twisted into complete mortification as her implication registered. “I, er, that is, no. No.” He made a motion with his hands for emphasis. “I would never, ever, do anything like that to a woman. One of my female, uh… servants… changed you.”
Her back slumped in relief, and she smiled a little. A woman, she thought with odd satisfaction. No one’s ever called me that before. I wonder if Gabriel thinks of me that way?
The heat rose in her face, and her voice became a hard lump. I can’t believe I did that. He’s gone. He’s never coming back. I have to accept that and move on.
Her vision became blurry as tears spilled from her eyes. Memories of her father and Gabriel screened through her head. Even memories of Ana – who was as lost to her now as they were – found a way in, making her feel more lonely than ever.
She sat silently crying on the floor, her arms folded across her chest, as Erebus shifted uncomfortably to his other knee. He fidgeted in silence as Lian’s whisper-soft sobs filled the room. His hand remained on her shoulder, and it felt comforting as she sniffled and wiped at the stream flowing on her face.
Her eyes focused on the tapestry in front of the bed. “Where are we? Why did you bring me here?” she managed to ask between sobs.
Erebus swallowed, uncertainty filling his eyes. “We are underground in my domain, such as it is,” he said loftily. “It also has many names; the Afterlife, the Final Sleep, but its formal name is Hesperides. I brought you here to keep the crystal away from my brother. To keep you safe.”
“Why me?”
He reached over and played with a lock of her hair. “Because if anything happens to you, my world will end as we know it.”
She looked at him curiously. “Your world?”
He quit fingering her hair and quickly tore his eyes from hers. “Yes, Hesperides. My kingdom,” he said, standing up. He walked over to the pillar candles and pretended to examine them. “While we’re on the subject, your world would also be in danger of being destroyed.”
Was he blushing? It was too dim to tell. “You’re a king?”
That wicked grin returned. “King of the Dead, to be exact.”
She thought of what Alastor had said. “Since Alastor’s the oldest, shouldn’t he technically have been king?”
Erebus scowled. “He was the original heir, that is until I usurped the throne. It would have been a disaster, for your world and mine. He’s always been reckless, even after Father died. He took our father’s death a lot harder than I did,” he added bitterly.
She wanted to ask why when he continued. “It makes me cringe to think what might have happened, what still could happen, if he ever gains the army he seeks.” He turned to look at her then. “Neither of us would ever know peace. Could you live in eternal darkness?”
She looked around her. “Looks a bit like I already am.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t cheerful. “Trust me, my Lady, this place would seem like paradise compared to what my brother could dream up.”
“But how are we to stop him? Vishka – who said it was her life’s quest to kill him – couldn’t even touch him.”
His head snapped in her direction, and he eyed her shrewdly. “What do you mean she couldn’t touch him?”
She recounted what should have been Vishka’s final blow. “Then the blade literally snapped in half.”
His frown deepened, and he rubbed his chin. “That’s impossible. She’s immortal; he’s immortal. She should have been able to kill him. Those are the rules.”
“Why her?” she asked suddenly. “Why not someone else, like her general? She was a queen; she didn’t know anything about fighting.”
Erebus smiled faintly. “Sound reasoning, my Lady, but her general was already dead when I found her. I cannot raise the dead. It’s not meant to be done.”
She looked at him eagerly. “But that
doesn’t mean it necessarily can’t be done?”
His face turned to stone, and he really did look like a statue then. “There are severe consequences for giving yourself over to that kind of power, and I will not go there.”
That silenced her, and she decided to pursue the subject later. “You never did answer my question. Why Vishka?”
“It’s quite simple. I needed her power.”
“You mean her ability to see auras?”
Erebus nodded. “One of a kind. I knew I’d at last found the one to carry out my mission. She was strong enough to endure it; her Stradvärian blood ensured that. Though my brother eluded her, that was the only real hindrance to this solution. Until now.” His wistfulness dropped into another frown.
“How come you couldn’t do it yourself? If you’re immortal, couldn’t you stop your brother?”
Erebus groaned in frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, which surprised her because it was such a human gesture and he was anything but human. “Gods cannot kill other gods,” he said slowly, searching for the right words as he spoke. “If that had been the case, we would have all destroyed each other by now.”
As he spoke, she folded her legs under her. She wanted to sit down on the bed but didn’t want him to take it as an invitation. She sat and piddled with the crystal dangling around her neck. She remembered what Vishka said about only being free from the bargain once her promise had been fulfilled or if someone related to her died in her place. “You trapped her, you know,” she said coldly. “I hope you realize that.”
Erebus winced, his face showing the sting of her words. “Honestly, I had no idea it would take so long. There were so many times early on when we thought we had him, but then he must have caught wind of what we had planned and disappeared all together. I suppose he’s laughing at us now, since he must have known all along she couldn’t kill him.” He scowled at the floor, reminding her much of herself when she was frustrated.
The childish pout to his lip – on a God – made her giggle despite the grim topic.
Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) Page 28