“Okay, I can’t. Not around this scrumptious, beautiful, delicious gift…” He peered into the pouch dreamily, licking his lips. “Who am I to turn down such a thing? I am merely a pixie.”
A click triggered behind me, as Croygen scooted back. “We’re in.”
“Cal, come on.” Simmons motioned to his friend. Cal glided into the air, following Simmons into the tunnel.
“Shit, I’m having déjà vu,” I mumbled to myself.
“Done this before?” Ryker herded me in before him, taking the rear guard.
“You have no idea.”
“I probably do.”
Yeah, I had a feeling he did.
Firelights along the walls ignited as we stepped in, sensing our presence like automated lights, allowing us to see a few feet in front of us. It wasn’t much different from the tunnel we’d just left. Same cobblestone, but a lot wider, and there were wooden doors along the way.
“What are in these?” Croygen’s eyes glowed with interest. “Anything I can borrow?”
“This section is extra food and supplies. Lars has the weapon and collection rooms better guarded,” Rez whispered over her shoulder, the firelights reflecting the sharp angles of her beautiful face. In this light the resemblance between Croygen and her was striking. “We’re headed to the collection room now.”
Collection room. That sounded interesting.
Rez led us along a long path. “It’s right around this corner.” She pointed at a heavier bolted door when we turned down the hallway.
My heart was in my throat, my ears tuned to any threat. Was there anyone still walking these corridors? No leader I knew would completely leave an area abandoned. But maybe Stavros didn’t realize what he had here. Or never imagined we’d come for a siren’s powers. He hadn’t been here long; maybe he didn’t know about this room.
As Croygen went to work, a trail of sweat trickled down his temple. His expression remained relaxed, as though he were picking a lock for fun.
“My lady.” Simmons came flying through the shadows. “We went all the way down. There’s no one.”
“That should be good news.” Ryker ran his hand over his hair, his feet shifting, his eyes examining every inch of space.
“Yeah.” My gaze snapped to every dark corner, tension rising, clenching my lungs. “It should.”
But it wasn’t.
I could feel both our demons were unsettled, as if they were cohorts, working together. Something was not right.
Anxiety curled around me the longer Croygen struggled with the lock, his serene demeanor giving way to a pinched forehead.
“I’m hurrying,” he bit at Ryker. “Stop dancing around me like we’re in a Zumba class.”
“You know what Zumba is?” Rez looked down at Croygen in shock.
“What?” He shrugged. “I might have taken a class or two.”
“Seriously?”
“Being the only guy in a room full of barely dressed, easily stimulated, women…” He shrugged. “I’m okay with your judgment.”
“I should be disturbed by this, right?” Rez cocked her head at me, a mix of humor and distress winking in her eyes. “I feel as if I should be deeply distraught by my fath—” She stopped, letting the rest of word get caught in her throat, the air expanding with tension.
“Guess you’re never too old for parents to embarrass you.” Croygen smiled awkwardly at Rez.
“You’re not my father and you embarrass and disturb me all the time,” Ryker said dryly, his gaze still searching the hallways.
“Zumba’s fun.” Cal dropped to my shoulder. “And I like wearing the little shorts.”
“You’ve done Zumba?” I choked. “In shorts?”
“Yeah.” Cal wiggled his hips, bouncing his butt up and down. “Sinnie likes it…but the shorts were all my idea. She can’t resist these sexy legs and the way the spandex shapes my ass.” He slapped his butt.
“Croygen, please hurry.” I rubbed my head, the images of Cal in spandex shorts doing Zumba troubled me on so many levels.
The pirate grunted, picking up another tool, working it in.
Click.
The latch gave way and I sucked in a breath. With a creak, the door slowly swung in on the dark room. Rez took a step in, a torch blazing alive on the wall, painting the room with deep shadows.
As I walked in, my mouth dropped open. The room was the size of a large living room but full of shelves and boxes stuffed with items: paintings, jewelry, coins, art sculptures, and other collectible objects.
“What is this?” I stumbled over a box.
“My heaven.” Croygen sighed dreamily.
“Money isn’t the only thing Lars took as payment. A lot of this stuff is from those who tried to negate on a deal or deceive him,” Rez said. “He took revenge on those who did him wrong. Death isn’t everyone’s greatest fear.” Rez moved to the farthest wall of the room, staring at a shelf. “And death certainly isn’t the cruelest way to punish those who did him wrong.” She blinked, tears filling her eyes. I followed her gaze, fixing on an almost empty shelf. Six clear jars sat upon it. Multicolored liquid moved around each one similar to a lava lamp. I could feel they were alive. Magic.
Souls.
“Oh gods, powers are in there.” I nodded to the jar. “Fae essences.”
“Yeah.” Holding a hand to her chest, her throat bobbed with unshed emotion. “Though, he only took from those who have done the worst of crimes.” She tilted her head. “You think I was the first Lars did this to over the centuries?”
“No. I guess not,” I replied. Over the centuries only six had defied him so grievously he took their souls. No stranger to Lars’s wrath, I couldn’t imagine what they could have done to deserve that. A handful might not seem a lot, but taking someone’s magic, their soul, away from them…that was extreme. Most would opt for death.
That Lars had taken Rez’s powers only proved how much Rez had hurt him. What she did was probably the worst of all of them on this shelf. He had trusted her, loved her, in his way, and brought her into his family.
“Which one is yours?” I stared, mesmerized, at the different-colored magic flexing inside the jars.
“That one.” She pointed to the last one on the end. Her eyes were damp as she stared at the jar not unlike a long-lost love. Blue as the ocean, her powers circled the glass like a pod of dolphins, swimming through the water with grace and beauty. Intoxicating.
I wanted to stand here and watch it forever. Follow it wherever it went.
“Wow,” I muttered. I was immune to the full blast of fae powers, but I could still feel her magic pull me in, wanting to grasp the jar, listen to the music inside.
“Grab it and let’s go.” Ryker gruff voice broke my trance. I snapped to look at him. He guarded the door, his axe in his hand.
Rez rolled her shoulders back, her trembling hand lifting the vessel. Her powers swam inside excitedly, as if they knew their owner was coming back for them. When she cracked the jar open, the room filled with song.
Heartbreaking. Exquisite. Joyous.
The most beautiful voice rippled over my skin, drawing tears to my eyes and chills over my skin. The music sank deep, like claws, consuming me, tears slipping down my cheeks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ryker and Croygen moving in closer. Drawn to her call as well.
Rez opened her mouth, humming, and tipped the jar into her mouth. Her magic twirled and dove down her throat, thrilled with excitement. I dropped to my knees, the beauty was painful, the craving to follow the sound. Humans would have no fight against a creature like her.
Rez slumped to the floor with a cry as the intense magic pummeled her body. I hadn’t been in the same room when they were taken from her, but I heard her screams from across the house. It was the most gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sound. I had tried to reach her, but Goran and Rimmon had held me back from getting into Lars’s office. It seemed to be almost as painful going back in.
As the powers
returned to her, her skin and eyes glowed bright, charging the room with electricity that bent her forward over her knees. It crackled up my spine, too, my bones wiggling with excessive energy.
Then she shut her mouth, the glow dimming, the song falling silent.
“Rez?” I moved to her, watching her chest move up and down, her body shaking. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She nodded, quiet sobs rattling her chest. “I feel whole…” Her eyes turned to me, glinting with pure joy. “I’ve been pretending, for West, I was fine without them.” Tears rained down her face. “It was a lie. I wanted him to be okay not turning into a beast…that being without your powers was okay.” Guilt and sorrow filled her face. “But all I can think now is thank the gods I’m me again. Am I a horrible person?”
“No.” I crouched next to her. “You did it because you love him. If he got his powers back and you didn’t, would you begrudge him?”
“No.” She sniffed. “But he hasn’t lied to me about missing them or being lost without them. I am the one who pretended all was okay.”
“Girls, this is not the time.” Ryker pranced toward the door again. “Therapy session later.”
Rez nodded, grabbing for a shelf filled with old coins and gold to help her stand.
“No, Ms. Rez, stop! A wire! It’s a trap!” Simmons yelled behind us, but it was too late. Rez’s fingers grasped a ledge, crossing an unseen snare.
Boom!
The surge blasted into me, picked me up, tore the sword from my hands, and tossed me across the room. The back of my head cracked against the stone wall. My bones slammed into the ground, debris raining down, bruising and cutting my skin. A cloud of smoke filled the room, obscuring my vision, my body screaming in agony. Ringing ricocheted in my ears.
Don’t black out. Stay awake.
With every breath, the pain in my body rose. I felt as though someone were flipping my skin inside out. The edges of my vision darkened as bile rose up my throat.
I couldn’t see anyone else as the fog rolled thickly around me. “Rez?” My voice sounded muffled and distant. “Cal? Simmons?” Oh gods. Where were they? Were they okay? “Ryker? Croygen?”
Silence.
A gulp of air sent more torture through my body. I tried to sit up, but nothing happened; my brain and muscles ignored me. My magic was trapped deep inside me, hidden away from the claws digging into them.
Holy crap on ash bark.
I knew what this was…goblin metal so finely ground it was used as a gas bomb. No fae or human could breathe it without it affecting them. With every intake, I was sucking in tiny slivers of poison, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
The perfect weapon. Panic had me gulping for air, which only infected my body faster.
A silhouette appeared against the white cloud, the haze thinning around the figure. Green-yellow eyes burned through the mist as the man stepped closer, his face coming into view. I jerked back with a hiss, ramming myself into the wall, stabbing more discomfort through me.
“Look, my great-niece has come for a visit.” Stavros put his hand over his heart. “I feel so honored. You’re my first visitors. I hope I’m a good host. I do want to accommodate all my guests.” He peered over his shoulder. “If they are still alive.”
Acid pooled in my stomach. Be all right. Please.
Fighting against the weight of my lids, I tilted my head back. I didn’t have long to stay conscious. The poison was seeping into every pore, the goblin metal shards ripping at my throat.
How the hell was he standing there unaffected?
“How?” My voice scraped with the effort to talk, cutting off the full question. It also sucked more energy from me.
“How am I still standing here, while you are shutting down? Dying a painful death?” He squatted next to me, a smile pinned unnaturally to his face. “I had a long, long time to become immune. It took over fifty years, but what else do you do while you wait for your comeback? Don’t get me wrong, I still get sleepy and such a sore throat.” He rubbed his throat mockingly. “But I’ll put up with the discomfort for you. We’re family, after all.”
The humor dropped from his face. “Did you think you could get the jump on me so easy? You have no idea what you are up against. I will always be ten steps ahead. I have every possible outcome planned. Blame it on your grandfather; he gave me plenty of time to scheme and prepare my revenge.”
The smoke was dissipating, letting me see lumps over the ground. My friends. Ryker’s massive frame was face-first on the floor only a few yards from me. When he groaned and struggled to lift his head, I felt a surge of relief.
“Ember, you have brought me some wonderful housewarming gifts. Wanderer? Thief? Siren? How did you know what I wanted for my birthday?”
I could now make out Rez buried under the items dislodged from the shelf.
“Except I’ll regift the two pixies. Useless things.”
I tried to snarl, but nothing but a whimper came out, my eyes dropping to half-mast.
Fight, Ember. Fight it.
“Oh, and as for your other friends. They’ve already been captured. You all failed.” He stood up, looking down at me. “I warned the Druid. She should have taken my threat a little more seriously.”
His boot kicked my head.
My neck snapped back, but I didn’t feel anything; blackness swallowed me whole. My last thought was of Eli. I tried to call for him, then there was nothing.
My lashes fluttered open. Blinking, my head jerked around. What the hell? I was in the castle. Kennedy’s castle. Or was I in some sick nightmare and Aneira would step around the corner at any moment?
I took a tentative step and glanced around, recognizing the area I was in. The doors to the dungeons sat before me, reminding me of the time I was yanked through them, becoming Aneira’s prisoner.
Footsteps clicked across the floor, and I instinctively retreated against the wall. A figure strode around the corner.
“Torin!” I exclaimed with relief, moving to him. He didn’t look or respond to me.
“Ah, crap,” I muttered, tugging the end of my ponytail. My head fell back, feeling pain from the explosion. I was in a freaking dreamwalk. It had been so long since I’d done one I’d almost forgotten what it was like. As a royal-blooded fairy on my mother’s side, I could both dreamscape and dreamwalk. Dreamscaping was pulling someone into a dream, usually only another fairy. In it I could fully interact with people, and it felt as real as if I were awake. In dreamwalking, I put myself in a place in real life and actual time, but I could not be seen, heard, or interact with people. I was a ghost. Why was I here? I needed to be helping my friends.
Torin walked past the dungeon doors, then paused, turned, and walked past them again. A low rumbling sparked from his throat, and his face creased with frustration.
He paced back and forth a couple more times, his anger seeping into me, his emotions clogging my chest. Anger. Hurt. Frustration. Sorrow.
Our link would always be there, and sometimes when he let down his walls by accident, I felt him. He had brought me here, unknowingly. His heightened emotions were a call I could never ignore. He was in pain.
“Dammit!” He bashed his fists against the wall, causing me to jump back. He rarely let his anger get the best of him. When he did…watch out.
“Torin,” a woman called to him, coming around the corner, looking as if she had followed him down. Georgia. I recognized her as one of Kennedy’s personal guards. The tall Scottish-looking guard, Sturt, followed right behind her. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” He shoved off the wall, glaring at her. “Our Queen is probably getting herself killed, and I have to stay here, twiddling my thumbs. I should be with her. Guarding her.”
“She wants us here. Protecting the castle.”
Torin shook his head, grinding his jaw, his annoyance spiking through me.
“Lass, why don’t we do another walk around the walls?” Sturt grabbed Georgia’s arm, giving her a pointed lo
ok. Her lips bunched together, her gaze still on Torin.
“Go see her.” She let Sturt walk her back a few steps.
“See who?” Torin’s torso went rigid.
Georgia slanted her head, shaking it with a look like come on, we’re not idiots. “You don’t have to forget, but maybe if you forgive…”
“I will never forgive her.” His chin rose. “What she has done is unforgivable. A dishonor on us.”
Georgia sighed. “Torin, your stubbornness and unwillingness to accept people’s flaws blinds you. That is your weakness.”
“Aye. Come on, lass. Now, before you get thrown down with her.” Sturt tugged her closer to his body and steered her along the path, leaving the First Knight seething.
Torin watched the vacated hallway for more than a minute, a vein thumping along his temple.
I imagined Torin would walk away, so his turn for the doors surprised me. He put his hand on one, but it was as far as he got. Minutes ticked by without even a muscle twitching. He stood there, his head bowed, his lids squeezed shut.
He needed to do this. Thara was his best friend, their relationship thicker than anything he thought we could have had. He tolerated Eli and me, but he had not forgiven us. Same with Kennedy and Lorcan. Anger and hatred were building in him. Someday it might override duty and allegiance.
“Go, Torin,” I whispered to him. He couldn’t hear me, but maybe he could feel it through our link.
His fingers curled, and he gave a strangled cry before he yanked the doors open. He moved down the stairs into the darkened hallway. Following him through the labyrinth of passages, we reached the dungeons, but turned down a different row than I expected.
“Well, crap! Conditions have changed since I’ve been here,” I exclaimed with a huff.
The cells we passed were empty, but each contained a cot and a side table. A curtain hung from above to give the sink and toilets privacy. A far cry from the urine drenched hay in my former cell. These cells were for the upper-tier prisoners.
Torin paused, then twisted as though he were about to turn around, but he took a deep breath and pushed forward. Every sliver of emotion was locked up, his expression hard.
Rise From The Embers (Lightness Saga Book 4) Page 13