Reckoning (The Arotas Trilogy #2)

by Amy Miles

  Roseline wipes away the moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then tell me.” His gaze earnestly searches her face. His hand pulls hers into his grasp. It feels warm, comforting and safe.

  Shame turns her gaze down. “I…I know I hurt you back in Sorin’s dungeon, but I never meant to.” Her voice falters.

  “I didn’t handle it too well either.” Fane soothes, squeezing her hand. “Probably wasn’t my shining moment, huh?”

  “Not really,” she smiles weakly.

  “Hey,” he whispers, motioning between them. “You and me…we’re good. Don’t worry about that.” Fane wipes a tear from her cheek. “I know it’s not just us that you’re worried about.”

  Taking a deep, shuddery breath, Roseline holds it within her lungs, before finally releasing it. She looks up at him through damp lashes. As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, her fears tumble out. “What if I can’t find Gabriel in time? What if I am wrong to wait around here and hope that Malachi has all of the answers? What if, by delaying, it costs Gabriel his life?”

  Pleading eyes stare up at Fane. His adam’s apple bobs as the weight of her questions fall on him. “I don’t know,” he whispers, pulling her into a firm embrace. Her head fits into the hollow of his neck, both familiar and unsettling, for both of them.

  “I wish I had the answers.” He rests his head atop hers. “But I think Malachi might know something.”

  Roseline pulls back. “What do you mean?”

  “He said something earlier that triggered a memory. I remember Vladimir saying something years ago about how he intended to right the wrongs our ancestors made. I never really gave it much thought until today.”

  She chews her lips while her fear amps up another notch. “Now I’m even more worried about Gabriel. If Vladimir ever realizes that we are bound…” Tendrils of hair fall in waves over her shoulders.

  “He won’t,” Fane rushes to reassure her. He pulls back the curtain of bronze tresses. “We are going to get through this, ok?”

  Sniffling, she nods. A weak smile is all she can manage. Roseline had thought that verbalizing her fears would help, but she was wrong. Now it has only made Gabriel’s absence feel more real.

  “Hang on.” Fane leaps from the bed and crosses to the bathroom. He returns swiftly with a crumpled wad of tissues in his hand.

  “Couldn’t you just bring the box with you?” she asks, laughing as she dries her eyes.

  “Darn thing is stuck to the vanity. What does this guy think, that we are going to steal his stuff?”

  Roseline shrugs. “Who knows? He does seem a tad excent-”

  Her bedroom door bursts open, nearly ripping the door from its hinges. Malachi pulls upright when he takes in Fane standing beside Roseline’s bed. Her blotchy red eyes widen, shocked at Malachi’s abrupt arrival as he straightens his suit coat with obvious discomfort.

  “My apologies, I did not realize I would be interrupting anything,” he grinds out.

  “No, it’s fine,” Roseline calls as he turns to leave. She stuffs the damp tissue into her palm. “Come in.”

  Fane turns to stand off with Malachi. “Do closed doors mean nothing to you?”

  Malachi’s smoky eyes darken. “I am not an ill-mannered heathen, Fane. I was merely in a rush to inform Roseline of a new development.”

  She perks up, rising up onto her knees on the bed. “What is it?”

  “There is to be a party at the West Wycombe Estate this evening.” Roseline frowns, confused as to how this could be of use. Malachi rolls his eyes at their vacant expressions. “At the ancestral home of Sir Francis Dashwood…”

  Roseline and Fane exchange a bewildered glance.

  “Oh honestly,” Malachi huffs, “you can’t possibly tell me that neither of you have heard of the Hellfire Club.”

  Realization dawns as they nod in agreement. It had been one of Vladimir’s favorite haunts back in the day, before the entire thing closed down.

  “I thought Sir Dashwood was just a front for the Hellfire Club,” Roseline mutters, glancing between Fane and Malachi.

  “He was, although the humans persist in smearing his good name into the ground, poor chap. All he did was create a place for people to congregate for a bit of…fun,” Malachi chuckles. “He had nothing to do with the actual goings on of the underworld.”

  “Then why should we care about some party at his ancestor’s home?” Fane asks.

  “Because,” Malachi draws out, rolling his eyes, “tonight, the Dashwood estate will be filled with some of England’s finest.”

  “That’s great, Mal, but I forgot to bring my dancing shoes,” Fane snickers, cutting him off.

  Malachi’s jaw clenches tightly. Roseline places a warning hand on Fane’s arm. “Why don’t you just jump to the part where all of this should matter to us?”

  He nods, struggling to tear his hostile gaze away from Fane. “If all eyes are on the mansion, and trust me, they will be, who do you think will be left to attend to the Hellfire caves?”

  Roseline frowns. “I’ve been down there before. Fane took me during our last trip to London. Could not stand the place. Rather creepy, if you ask me.”

  “Yeah,” Fane interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest, “we’re not here to see the sights.”

  Malachi’s lip pulls back into a snarl. “Then you are a fool, because within those caves lies a secret passage. I believe the prophecy, the same that Roseline seeks, is contained within those walls.”

  All thought of sleep vanishes. “Why do you think so?” Roseline asks.

  “Because that is the where we will find the Elders.” The air hangs thick in Roseline’s room. “These are the men who are actively hunting Gabriel, and whom I am protecting you from. Their ancestors were a part of a secret sect who met in those tunnels.”

  “Before that, they met in homes, back rooms of pubs, even barns when the occasion called for it. They have been around since the beginning of time, always searching, always waiting for the Arotas to rise.”

  “They created the Hellfire Club as a cover up,” Roseline whispers, her brain whirring to put the pieces together. Blood rituals. Human sacrifices. Witchcraft. Vladimir’s membership into the group. She already knew some of the rumors had to be true. Why else would Vladimir have spent so much time there if not to feed his bloodlust? No doubt, Sir Dashwood had no clue of what really went on in those caves.

  “It all makes sense.” She turns eagerly toward Fane. “That’s how Vladimir found out about Gabriel. Someone let it slip, probably one of the human members too far down the bottom of his beer mug for his own good. Vladimir must not have been inducted into sect.”

  “Indeed,” Malachi nods at her assessment. “Only those born into the group were true members. Bloodlines dictated who was allowed to know the secret of Arotas. As enthusiastic a member as I am sure your husband was, he was never admitted into the inner temple.”

  “I’ve heard of that,” Fane pipes up. “There is a theory that the tunnels, as presented today to tourists, have been altered from what some of the member’s journals claimed.”

  Malachi begrudgingly nods. “Yes. Human scientists have searched for a hidden passageway that leads to the true inner temple, but none have found it.”

  “Why not?” Roseline asks

  “Because they are searching in the wrong place.” Malachi’s eyes twinkle.

  Chapter 27

  Roseline moves stealthily along the frozen ground, her boots easily punching through the ice. Malachi follows on her flank while Nicolae and Fane bring up the rear. Light floods the estate ahead, forcing them to skirt around to avoid the partygoers.

  They keep their heads low as they wind along the outer perimeter of the estate. The land begins a rapid incline, leading toward the hill where the Dashwood family mausoleum rests. Roseline can see the circular flint walls rising through the dark. The gates of the fortress style building are sealed for the night to keep wanna-be cult member
s and pranksters from the grounds.

  As they approach the entrance to the caves, Malachi holds up his hand. Roseline halts, her gaze scanning the dimly lit entrance. A gift shop lies dormant off the side and a skull leers down at her from above. There is no sign of human life in the immediate area.

  “Fane and Nicolae, post a perimeter on either side of this entrance. If you hear anything, come in after us,” Malachi says, placing his hand against the small of Roseline’s back.

  A low growl rumbles in Fane’s chest. Roseline squeezes his hand. “I will be fine. Just watch my back, ok?” She slips out of her swords, handing the scabbard to him. “Be careful with the strap. I was in a rush to mend it before we left.”

  He nods. “Got it.”

  Nicolae steps forward, awkwardly patting Roseline on the arm. “Yeah, um, be safe.”

  Grinning, Roseline pulls him into a hug. His body goes stiff in her arms, his hands are unsure of where to come to rest. Finally, he gives up and wriggles out of her grasp. “What was that for?”

  “For Sadie.”

  He nods clearing his throat, rocking back onto his heels. “Right. I should probably just…” he tosses his thumb over his shoulder.

  Fane laughs and pulls Nicolae away. Roseline can hear him giving Nicolae a sympathetic pep talk as they disappear into the inky black.

  At least they are finally starting to bond, she thinks. Too bad it is over their frustrating attraction to her.

  “Are you ready?” Malachi asks, his voice pulling her back to her mission. His expression holds tightly in check, but Roseline suspects he is nervous too.

  Confined spaces really are not Roseline’s thing. There is less room to maneuver if ambushed. Malachi has yet to explain the origin of these Elders. Are they human or something else entirely? Now that she has dipped even further into the supernatural, there is no telling what this secret sect could be.

  She would not be the least bit surprised if Malachi said they were demi-gods or something. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

  Malachi nods and leaps over the ten-foot-high wrought iron gate. He holds out his hand to assist Roseline. She smirks and spirals over his head, landing gracefully behind him. “Impressive.”

  Roseline shrugs and disappears through the flint and chalk mortar entrance. An eerie silence hangs over them, too silent for a place with such a questionable history. No doubt, all manner of ghosts lurk within these brick-lined halls.

  “No lights,” Malachi says as they move past the initial entryway. His deep voice echoes into the depths of the domed tunnel. The light from outside quickly fades away.

  Roseline nods, letting her fingers skim the stone as she walks. Although her night vision is excellent, even she cannot see in complete darkness. “Can you see anything?”

  “Yes.”

  She turns back, shocked. “Really?”

  His laugh is shallow, a much better volume for the space. “It’s another one of my oddities. Shall I show you the way?”

  Roseline presses back into the wall as Malachi slips past. She stiffens when his fingers brush against hers. “This will go much faster if you let me lead you.”

  The tingling feeling of his skin against hers is unnerving, but she pushes aside her discomfort. Buried within these walls might contain a clue to help save Gabriel’s life. She can easily endure holding hands for a while.

  His fingers firmly clench hers as they start at a rapid pace. The walls are bumpy under her fingertips. Sometimes she encounters large divots in the wall and shudders, vividly remembering the demonic faces etched into the cave’s surface.

  Their feet slap against the floor as they run. Roseline holds on as Malachi whips her around a corner and races ahead, sprinting into the pitch-blackness. Her footsteps echo around her, broadening as they enter a new space. She can feel its grand size. “Have we reached the banquet room?”

  “Yes,” he whispers, pulling her faster. “We are nearly there.”

  If memory serves her, there are only four remaining rooms. The Triangle. The Miner’s Cave. The River Styx and finally the Inner Temple, but where is the hidden room located?

  Roseline races behind Malachi, wincing as her hip grazes the wall. She bites down on her lip to still her cry as Malachi comes to a complete halt. Confused, Roseline grips his hand tighter. She struggles to stifle the panic rising in her throat. “Where are we?”

  “The River Styx.” He moves slowly forward. Rippling water resounds in her ears, over the pattering of her heart. To her memory, the water was eerily calm the last time she was here.

  Something catches her eye, slowly moving but definitely there. A white mist glides along the floor. “What is that?”

  Malachi’s fingers unwind from her hand and gently settle on her forearm. “Our guide.”

  A shiver begins at the base of her neck and plunges down her back. “You make it sound like that thing is a person.”

  He does not respond. Instead, he steps into the water. When Roseline follows, glacial water rises over her boots. The mist surrounds her, beckoning her forward. “How far does this go?”

  “It’s a narrow channel. We will have to walk single file. Grab onto the back of my shirt.”

  Roseline twirls the fabric in her fingers and sloshes forward. It is hard to measure time in the dark. They could have walked no more than a minute, or it could have stretched on to ten, but the mist never leaves them.

  At the end, the channel curves slightly. Malachi stops.

  “What’s wrong?” Roseline asks.

  “We are here.”

  Roseline cannot see where here is. All around her, the darkness closes in. Maybe this was not such a good idea. Her senses are hampered by the dismal moist conditions of the tunnel.

  “This is a secret outlet to the West Wycombe brook. No one has need to come down here. It’s the perfect location for a vault,” Malachi whispers.

  “So you’ve been here before?”

  “No, but I have heard stories. I just have to find the right spot.”

  Roseline stares ahead, completely useless and feeling every bit so. She can hear Malachi’s fumbling and her frustration mounts. Just as she is about to insist that they leave and return with a flashlight, Malachi crows with excitement.

  The floor shudders underfoot. A breath of stale air wafts over her face. Reaching out her hand, Roseline feels only cool air. “I knew I could find it,” he gloats, pulling her out of the water and into a room beyond.

  “Never doubted you for a second.”

  The wall shifts behind her, rumbling closed on its track. Malachi moves away, fumbling through what sounds like a stack of papers. He steps around the space, shifting things here and there. Roseline leans back against what feels like a small table and waits. The more he fumbles, the more anxious she becomes. What if the prophecy isn’t here?

  “Find anything?” A waterfall of parchment lands on her feet. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  She dips low, blindly gathering the papers. They feel rough against her fingertips, aged and slightly damp from the moisture that hangs in the air. The hairs on the back of her neck rise as she realizes that she can see again. An eerie glow seeps from the back of the room.

  That was not there before.

  Dumping her armful of papers to the side, she crawls forward on hands and knees. She bumps against Malachi’s legs, squinting to see in the dim light.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shh,” she hisses, motioning for him to keep his voice low. She has no way of knowing if he actually saw her hand, but at least he does not try to question her again. Instead, he turns back to his work.

  Inching closer to the wall, her head bumps into something very solid. Pain lances through her scalp but she redirects around the object. The light is brighter here. She lowers to her belly and snakes forward.

  Less than two feet away, Roseline realizes that the light is streaming in from some sort of rusted grate. An air vent perhaps. She silences her breathing as a ru
stling alerts her to movement in the space below.

  “Have you come to deliver news of the raid?” a raspy voice asks.

  “Yes, Master.” Roseline can sense the man’s hesitation. “The target was gone.”

  “Gone?” Another rustling of material. A gasping gurgle is followed by a coughing fit.

  “Yes,” the man replies, his voice muffled. “They must have been warned we were coming.”

  “Did you burn it to the ground?” Another hacking fit, this one disgustingly phlegmy.