Ivy Cross and the Monarch of Darkness (Dark Inquisitor Series Book 1)

by A. D. Winter

  “What of the orphanages?” I asked.

  “Transplanted, I’m afraid,” he said. “Some were moved to other parts of the city. Others were done away with completely. Most, though, were consolidated.”

  “As if the living conditions weren’t bad enough already.” I shivered as the memory of my childhood swooped in like a cold breeze. It was a time and place that I’d been running from my whole life. And now I’d come back full circle. By the goddess’s soft hands, give me strength.

  “Something’s wrong,” Dryden said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The silence.” He studied the surrounding buildings. “It’s quieter than usual.” He held out a hand and shut his eyes, seeming to feel for magical signatures. I did the same.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Gone,” he said. “Or perhaps masking their energy.”

  It was a possibility, I knew. The Cauldron was said to be home to some of the most dangerous magic users in Salvation. It wasn’t far-fetched to assume that some of them, if not most, were on the run from the Order. Concealing their presence with magic would be a normal precaution. But was there something more?

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said.

  We turned the corner, and there, sitting at the top of the hill, was what I had been avoiding for the past nine years: the home that I had sworn I would never return to.

  It glared at me through the cracks of its broken windows, like an angry old schoolmaster waiting to dole out his punishment. I paused.

  “What’s wrong?” Dryden asked.

  “Are you sure this is the place?”

  “From what I understand, yes.” He looked at me. “What’s going on? Having second thoughts?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What, then?”

  I sighed. “Have you ever come face-to-face with your greatest fear?”

  He seemed confused by the question. “I think so, yes,” he said.

  “And?” I asked.

  “It’s something I never want to do again.”

  “Exactly.”

  I made my way to the house, pausing only for a moment as I reached the stone steps of the entrance. The home was in even worse shape than I remembered. The steps had been chipped away, and its front lawn was nothing but dirt and rock. The wooden banisters of the porch were cracked and broken, leaving only sharp stumps that could kill a person if they tripped.

  It was as if the house’s facade had finally been stripped away, revealing the decrepit soul hidden underneath.

  “This place,” I began. “I thought I’d never be here again.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “It was my … home,” I said. “When I was a child.”

  He glanced between me and the house. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  “I’m sorry?” I said.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “Look, we don’t have to go in, if you don’t want to.”

  “Yes, I do.” I walked up the steps, my hands tensing at my sides.

  The front door creaked open as we entered, and I was suddenly paralyzed by the face of my past looking back at me.

  You can do this, I told myself. Just one foot in front of the other.

  Inside, the house was cold and damp. Insects scampered away, receding into the withered frame of the house.

  To my left, I saw a flying insect staring at me from the corner of the den. It whispered a few words, then flew away, receding into the cracked wood, where it disappeared.

  “A whispering wasp,” Dryden said. “There are loads of them in these parts. Legend has it the Minstrel opened a portal to another dimension just to bring them here in his fight with the fae. We should be okay, as long as we don’t bleed.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  The farther we pushed into the home, the darker it became. The reek of mildew was strong, and I had to cover my nose when we reached a patch of soiled wallpaper. It was disgusting.

  “Is it like you remember it?” Dryden asked.

  “Just about,” I replied.

  “How many of you were there?” he asked.

  “At most the house could hold twenty people,” I replied. “But when I lived here, there were at least a hundred. A hundred dirty, starving children struggling to survive.”

  “It must’ve been horrible,” he said, “to live in such conditions.”

  “You never knew?” I asked.

  “I was one of the lucky ones, I’m afraid,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Adopted by a sweet young couple at an early age. They were looking to start a family, and fortunately, I was added.”

  “Lucky you,” I said, leading him toward the stairway. “To have a mother and a father to take care of you when you were sick. But I guess only the lucky few would know.”

  “That is one of the benefits of being a magical creature,” Dryden said.

  He was right. The only souls in Salvation who knew what it was like to have parents—true biological ancestors—were the magical creatures.

  Chosen—humans like Dryden and me—weren’t as lucky. We’d been birthed into the world of Salvation through magic—special beings who’d been chosen by the goddess herself to live in her special world. It was an honor that came with a price: serving the fae.

  We climbed the stairs and reached the second level. Outside each bedroom were strange symbols carved into the wood.

  “These markings …?” Dryden asked.

  “Cute, huh?”

  Dryden crouched before a carving and ran a finger through the rugged indentations. “They look like sigils, yet I don’t recognize them.”

  “You’re not supposed to,” I said.

  He glanced up at me and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “We used them to set boundaries.”

  “Gangs?”

  I nodded. “Right here was where Trudy and her Ginger Snaps held court. Over there was where Freddy and Pierre formed the Death Riders. A few feet farther, and you would’ve had to deal with Dalick and his Green Boys.”

  “And which gang were you in?” he asked.

  “None,” I replied.

  He arched a brow, waiting for me to explain. “I don’t understand.”

  “I refused to join,” I said.

  “But how did you survive?”

  “I fought.”

  I brushed past him without a word, continuing our search. Each of the rooms was the same. Haunting domiciles that reeked as badly as they looked. After a while, we returned to the bottom floor, where we eventually made our way to the living room.

  “Who’s that?” Dryden asked.

  I followed his gaze to the dusty portrait hanging on the wall. It was of a beautiful chosen with blond hair, her smile bent to the side, as if there were a cracked stone in her shoe. She stared at me with severe eyes.

  “A monster,” I whispered.

  The world faded as I was suddenly thrust into my childhood, and there I was, a frightened twelve-year-old standing in front of my old headmistress, Greta Adams.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked behind her cruel smile.

  When I didn’t speak, she lifted from her seat and moved around her desk. Clutched in her hand was her favorite tool, a studded piece of wood that was still stained with my blood from the day before. She slapped it against her palm as she glared down at me. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Ivy. Now hold out your hand.”

  I forced myself to glare up into her eyes, those blocks of stone that never teared. But I didn’t waver. I held out my hand, unblinking, determined to face her cruelty with strength.

  The pain was indescribable. It tore through my skin and shattered my knuckles, leaving my hand a gnarled mess.

  When I’d staggered away from her office, bent over and ashamed, I hobbled up the broken stairs toward my room, where I sat in the corner, gritting my teeth against the pain.

  How many times I’d had to endure her abuse, how many times I’d sworn to es
cape, day after day, night after night, until finally succumbing to my rage and doing the inevitable.

  I was suddenly dragged back to the world as a loud crack sounded from somewhere in the house. “Did you hear that?” I spun around to face Dryden.

  “It came from the kitchen,” he said.

  We rushed toward the noise, brushing past the couches and through the hallway. The reek of sulfur had spiced the air, and I felt a sense of death nearby. Rushing into the kitchen, I was met with a frightening sight.

  What the …?

  Lying on the table, his neck covered in bite marks, was a finely dressed male with golden hair. Dryden turned the head to the side, and I saw a pointy ear that was slashed along the lobe.

  “An elf?” Dryden asked.

  “He’s been tortured,” I said, running a finger along his arm and noting the deep cuts along his skin.

  Dryden took a step back and shook his head. “This can’t be real.”

  I shared his disbelief. A murdered elf in the Forgotten Quarter? The consequences would be devastating. Inquisitors would be called in. News outlets would be notified. The entire city would be on high alert.

  But as I leaned over his body, examining the recency of his wounds, I was stunned to discover something strange.

  He’d been dead for at least a couple of days.

  By the goddess’s hairy armpits …

  “What’s wrong?” Dryden asked.

  “This.” I bent the elf’s hand at the wrist and a loud crack sounded. “He’s been dead awhile now.”

  “So?” he asked.

  “And no one’s been notified?”

  A look of concern crossed Dryden’s face. “That is troubling. Perhaps there’s a reason for it.”

  “No,” I said, realizing that what I’d been fearing the most was probably happening. “They know; they’re just not doing anything about it.”

  “A traitor?” Dryden asked. “In the Order?”

  I nodded. “I’ve suspected it for some time now, ever since my first mission into the human world. No one wanted to believe that the vampires were growing in number again. Not even my—”

  My body tensed as I was hit by the faint reek of danger. I looked around, searching for the source.

  “What’s wrong?” Dryden asked.

  “There’s someone else here,” I said.

  “Impossible,” he said. “I would’ve felt it.”

  “Search again.”

  He shut his eyes as he searched for magical signatures. “I don’t feel anything,” he finally said. “The house is empty.”

  “It’s not inside the house,” I said, and sniffed the air, drawing upon the power of my spirit. “And there’s something else.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s not alone.”

  I gasped as the floor suddenly exploded, and a clawed hand gripped me by the ankle. It yanked me down so hard that I tore through the wood, delving deep beneath the house, where I was slammed to the rocky ground.

  I coughed as blood filled my lungs, my vision hazy, my movements slow. Dryden was somewhere close by, but he was silent, perhaps even knocked out.

  I rolled over and struggled to my feet.

  We were in some kind of tunnel. Thick shafts of wood lined the house’s foundation, and I saw stone pillars decorated with black drapes. In the back, there was an altar with a half-moon overhead. I knew it well. The illegal symbol of the Minstrel.

  “The Listeners,” I whispered.

  “This must be one of their safe houses.”

  I whirled to find Dryden standing behind me, his hair and clothes covered in dust. He snapped his fingers, and the torches along the walls lit with a flare.

  My eyes were barely adjusting to the light when I saw it—a glint of light flying for Dryden’s chest.

  I reached out at the last second and caught it in my hand. When I opened my palm, I found a sharp dagger with a leather handle.

  Searching out the source, I saw a figure standing in the corner. It lifted from the shadows, a svelte body with a slim face, its eyes glowing red above a toothy grin.

  And sure enough, standing at its side, with a massive jaw and thick fur, was exactly what I’d smelled in the kitchen.

  “A bloody werewolf?” Dryden asked.

  “This just keeps getting better.”

  15

  Ivy

  “What do we have here?” The vampire strode out in a black latex dress, her hair shocking pink, her heels long and sharp. It was actually kind of cute. “Two chosen looking for a place to stay?” Her voice was smooth and laced with malevolence.

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking off the debris from my hair. “And you’re a rotten host.”

  The vampire chuckled. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors.”

  “What about the elf upstairs?” I asked.

  The vampire gave me a crooked grin. “He was a guest.”

  “Remind me never to accept an invitation from this one,” I whispered to Dryden. He gave a weak snort. “Why’d you kill him?” I called out.

  “Because pets need to be loyal,” she replied, “and because I liked it.”

  “You’re going to the cells for this.” I lifted the dagger that she’d thrown at Dryden and pointed it at her. “And that’s if you’re lucky.”

  “Brave words from the woman who’s about to be eaten.” She clenched the werewolf’s mane and gave it a cruel shake. The beast gave a frightful growl, and I felt my heart begin to race.

  “Something’s wrong,” Dryden said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’re about one day away from becoming wolf poop.”

  “Not that,” he said, “though I have to admit, that is pressing on my mind. The werewolf, it’s … being controlled somehow. I can sense it.”

  Great. As if things weren’t bad enough, now I had to worry about the shifter inside being an innocent victim.

  I didn’t like to pull punches. It was either pedal to the metal or escape to the nearest door. But if there was an innocent victim inside that werewolf, we needed to be careful.

  “Fine,” I said. “You take the werewolf; I’ll take Party Girl.”

  “As you wish.”

  Before Dryden could work his magic, he was bowled over by the werewolf. They crashed to the ground a couple of yards away, and Dryden activated a defensive shield of blue energy that singed the werewolf’s skin.

  The beast cried out in pain as it was forced to leap backward.

  “Gotta watch out for that first attack!” I called out to Dryden. “You don’t pay attention, and you’ll get—”

  Before I could finish, I felt a rock smashing against my head. It knocked me over, and I fell to my knees, blinking through the haze. My spirit was instantly activated, and I felt my senses returning with a rush.

  Why, that little …

  I turned around to face the vampire, rubbing my head in annoyance. She was staring at me with a grin.

  “That hurt, lady.”

  “Good,” she said. “I don’t like inquisitors barging in on my lair.”

  “I’m gonna do more than just barge in.”

  The vampire dropped into a defensive crouch, flashing her fangs at me like a hissing cat.

  The stench of her breath hit me in the face, and I nearly retched from the reek of it. “Haven’t you ever heard of a toothbrush?”

  “I’m gonna floss my teeth with your hair after I drink your blood.”

  “Ew. No thanks.”

  Despite her thin frame and svelte body, she was surprisingly fast. She slashed at my face, and I felt the edges of her nails slicing through my skin. Blood seeped from the wound, and I staggered back, touching the blood that was slipping down my chin.

  With my spirit, all I needed to do was wait a couple of seconds for the wounds to heal.

  But I was angry and in danger. And worst of all, I hated being hit, especially in the face.

  I flipped the dagger in the air, caught it in my hand, and slipped into one of
the seven defensive stances I’d learned in Qin.

  The vampire frowned. “What’s that called? Sleeping Dragon?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s called Killing the Vampire.”

  Anger filled her eyes, and she came at me again, full force.

  I rolled into her attack, spinning around and carving a huge chunk from her back. She let out a bestial scream as she was stung with pain, and she spun around with her arms spread wide. The fury in her eyes was unmistakable.

  She unfastened the rope around her belt and gave it a snap.

  “A whip?” I asked. “That is so cliché.”

  “You’re a cliché.” She snapped the whip at my face, nearly slicing off my nose. But I flipped into a backward somersault, leaping across the tunnel until I dropped into a three-point crouch.

  From there, I stared at the other side of the tunnel, where Dryden was still battling it out with the werewolf.

  He was calm and in control. But the werewolf was a wild beast, slashing and leaping, roaring and attacking from all angles. I could only hope he didn’t die before I got the answers I needed from this vampire.

  “How ya doing over there, Goldilocks?” I called out to him.

  “Just a slight delay,” he replied calmly. “Nothing more. And you?”

  “Enjoying the scenery.”

  “Cheers.”

  I looked back to find the vampire moving toward me. She was sashaying in her high heels and latex outfit, a look of determination on her gaunt face. “Enough of this nonsense. I have a midnight session with a very rich client. And I’m not going to lose my beauty sleep over an annoying little human like you.”

  “Beauty sleep?” I snorted. “You’ll need more than beauty sleep after I’m done with you.”

  The whip snapped against my shoulder, a searing pain that stung through my entire body. Stumbling back, I glared at the wound, horrified by the three-inch-long tear.

  “You tore my jacket?” I said, glaring at her.

  The vampire snorted. “It’s an improvement.”

  “Okay, lady, you just went way past the line.”

  I charged the vampire with everything I had, able to avoid the snap of her whip as she sought to remove my head from my shoulders. I shifted to the left, then to the right, leaping into the air with a mighty side kick that plunged into her face.