A crazed hiss of disapproval escaped the woman’s lips, caused a gasp to pull at Evie’s throat. She was so distracted by the jarring look of the cage that she barely caught sight of the woman behind it. Whoever created the cage went the old-fashioned route. Iron bars, thick and strong, trapped the woman in her cell. Massive chains snaked their way through the hefty bars, back and forth, from bottom to top.
What she did notice was that the woman had only small amounts of hair on her head, random strands that hung long, oddly isolated. But evidence of what used to be lay strewn on the ground around her. Long strands of silvery gray hair practically made a carpet beneath her feet. And though she wasn’t certain, Evie thought she saw more strands tangled within her fisted fingers.
The crazed woman became enraged once they passed. She cursed at them, threatened that they’d be haunted by the sight of her face, tortured by the sound of her voice forever, if they didn’t set her free.
Calvin talked over the madwoman as they neared the second room. “Don’t listen to her, Evie.”
The pleasant tone of his voice had a soothing effect. She wished he could talk over the noise coming from the next cell. A man’s cry, or moan was more like it. The grave noise carried down the long hall like a chorus of tortured cries. When he finally spoke, it didn’t sound like real words at all, just gibberish.
His cage was different from the woman’s. Thick, grey stones stood like dominos, wedged between the ceiling and the ground. The vertical gaps between each stone were large enough for her to get a good look at the man trapped inside. He was tall and thick, and his head hung heavily over his sorely kinked neck. It was due to the size of the cave, she quickly noticed. The lowered height of the ceiling. Perhaps it’d been designed that way deliberately.
Calvin walked faster as they approached the final, quiet cell. Evie assumed it was empty and meant for their use. She was wrong. A man occupied it. At least, she assumed it was a man; she wasn’t certain. He was emaciated, almost skeletal, and oddly silent. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge them at all.
Evie slowed as they walked by, took in the look of his face. His sunken eyes looked right past her, as if he couldn’t see at all, or hear for that matter. Perhaps he was both deaf and blind. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, his bones bulging through his transparent skin. The sight of his knobby knees, pointed elbows, and protruding shoulders made her shudder.
But the strangest of all was his cage. A flimsy excuse for entrapment. Compiled of mainly twigs, stacked and woven in the shape of a bowl, with him in the center. A nest, for the fragile little bird of a man he was.
The hall continued, but it was darker, and held no other openings. Yet as they proceeded down the path, a sharp noise pierced through the quiet–the magnified sound of chalk on a blackboard, pointed and defined. A new space was taking shape, hollowing out right before their eyes. An unseen force scooped the rock, carved away the mass, leaving a large, vacant space in its wake just for them. No, for Jocelyn. A new torch flickered to life.
“Wow,” Evie whispered. “That was…”
Calvin nodded as she let the sentence die. “I know,” he agreed. “Amazing.”
As they stood in front of the fresh, hollow cell, Evie wondered what kind of trap Calvin would create for Jocelyn. He pulled her toward the back wall, closer to the warmth of the torch, and slipped both arms around her. Only then did she notice she’d been shivering, dripping the cold water that clung to her clothes as her teeth chattered. The warmth of Calvin, up close and tight against her, was soothing. She brought her arms around him and slowly warmed beneath his touch.
She knew Calvin must be worried for Parker, more than he showed. She was worried too, but fought to stay optimistic.
“Evie,” Calvin whispered. He tilted his head and looked over her face before continuing. “You’re alive. I can’t tell you how that felt, wondering if you’d make it. I couldn’t have gone on without you.” He brought his lips to her cheek. “We’ve made it through this far. Parker has to make it out alive, too. He has to. We’re almost there.”
As they sank into a deeper embrace, Evie tried to block out the haunting cries. Calvin hadn’t taken his eyes off the empty chamber behind her, and it took her a moment to realize why. She hadn’t noticed at first, but Calvin had already been working on Jocelyn’s trap, the place for her keeping. He was mindfully spinning material, thin and light, weaving it across the solid sidewall. It looked like a web, light, almost sheer. But as the threads began to build, stacking generously in layers thick and deep, the material took on a white sort of glow.
Once the first wall was covered, the white stretchy thread crept along the back wall, started to mound and stack in heavy layers toward the ceiling. The sight of the silky strands building strong and tall was hypnotic. In a place where everything was dim and yellowed, these stood in contrast, bright and unyielding.
There was a certain confidence about Calvin as he created the trap, the very space that would keep Jocelyn out of their lives forever. Evie tried to imagine The Lockdown with Jocelyn in it. She’d always envisioned the woman to look like Calvin’s drawing, dangerous and wild, but young and alive. That vision was gone. Here in the ominous space, after witnessing the decayed condition of the other occupants, she could only picture a faceless creature, a blank palette framed with the same wild ropes of raven hair.
She reached for the amulet, but didn’t feel it at the base of her throat. A beat of panic flashed through her as she looked down, patting at her chest. She gasped. “Calvin, the necklace–it’s gone.”
Chapter Forty-five
The torch lights flickered as Calvin raced down the corridor, panic threatening to consume him. If Parker made it past Jocelyn, he’d be led to that amulet. They had to have it.
Frantic breaths pushed through his dry throat as he scanned the dirt at his feet. He ignored the crazed moans and haunting voices, only barreled down the torch-lit hall as fear consumed him.
“We’ll find it,” Evie said, trailing behind him. “I just had it. I remember holding it, rubbing my thumb over the design while you carried me.”
Calvin spun around. “Really?”
She nodded. “In fact, I was toying with it right up to the time you set me down.”
Encouraged now, he rushed down the remaining length of the hall, eyeing the path along the way. No sight of the amulet. Evie dropped to her knees once they came to the opening, searched over the dirt with her hands. “I don’t see it.”
He glanced at the dark pool of water. “Keep looking. I’m going to see if it’s in here.” The icy water rushed the warmth from his legs.
“Wait, Calvin. What if it pulls you back through?”
Calvin barely registered her question as he dove beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure how to answer. If he couldn’t find the necklace there, he’d have to search just outside the entrance. Jocelyn and Parker could show at any time, and since The Lockdown would thwart Jocelyn’s powers, it was the safest place for Evie. Still, she wouldn’t want to be there alone. She’d fight him on it.
His palms moved over the rippled mud at the bottom of the pool. It was too dark to see. Although the torches’ flicker danced along the face of the water, it stopped there, lending no light to the world below.
He kicked his way back up to the surface.
“Did you find it?” Evie’s voice carried the panic he felt. The desperation that bit at every nerve in his body. Parker could teleport to the amulet at any moment. If they were led to any place other than The Lockdown, it could be disastrous.
“No. Not yet.” He plunged back down, less affected by the chill, and swam again to the bottom, noting the mild suction coming from the base of the cave wall. He swam toward it, let the magnificent force propel him forward and up, hoping it would lead back to the waterfall. He kicked his legs this time, anxious to get through to the other side, find the necklace, and get back to Evie. Once he broke through the falling sheet of water, Calvin squinted against the
sunlight and dropped to his knees.
The steady rush from the waterfall filled his ears as he thrust his hands into the shallow pool at the base of the fall, searching the crevices between each rock and pebble beneath his fingers. The amulet had probably fallen off when Evie bent down to get a drink. It had to be close.
As he searched for the necklace, his attention was seized by a familiar scent wafting through the air. He sucked in a deep, hypnotic dose just as he caught sight of a reflection rippling in the pond. He was not alone.
His gaze darted to the dry land at his side. A man stood there, hunched over and panting for breath. He was familiar, wasn’t he? Calvin knew him somehow. And what about the woman lying at his feet?
The warm aroma kicked up again, infusing him with knowledge, truth, and pleasure. He sucked in a long, greedy breath, used it to clear up his mind. He did know this man. He loathed him. This was the villain who had stolen from him, robbed him of the woman on the ground. This time, he wouldn’t let her go.
The seductive hands of sweet, fragrant wind pulled him closer to the heart of it, the face of it. And though she lay on the ground, as if in sleep, he could see her flawless beauty. Her name came to him as if the answer to a question.
Calvin whispered it reverently, “Jocelyn.”
The pale beauty replied, a lovely whisper in his mind. Kill him.
Three steps brought Calvin closer. Close enough to seize the imbecile at her side, clutch him within his grasp.
“No, Calvin, don’t,” his competitor pled.
Calvin gripped hold of his shirt. The hands that fought to unclench his iron grasp were strong, but Calvin’s were stronger. The voice in his mind strengthened him as he lifted the thief over his head, anxious to silence his ridiculous plea. Fueled by desire to please his mate, he thrust him against the mountain wall. The shallow water splashed when his limp body hit the base. Calvin smiled.
The lovely figure floated to her feet, beckoned him closer with the wave of a delicate hand. Glowing skin, rose-tinted cheeks, and eyes as deep and dark as a summer night. Soft rings of her raven hair reached out to him, swept across his face. Calvin weakened to his knees. Being in her presence was a gift, precious. He’d show that he cherished it, respected it, by resisting the urge to touch her, take her.
He’d wait. He would obey.
His chest swelled as he rose back to his feet, honored when she returned his gaze, allowing him to sink into the darkness of her enchanting spheres. When Calvin reached out, she placed her small hands in his. Mesmerized, he feasted on the gratifying connection between them, eyes solely focused on her porcelain face.
They were moving, he vaguely realized, like fast-drifting clouds over the canyon land, floating over shrubs and trees, rocks and crevices. As the waterfall slipped further and further away, a part of him became distracted, worried that there was something he’d left behind. Soon that notion fled from his mind completely, and there was nothing left but her.
Jocelyn motioned to her side once they came to a stop. An altar stood close by, a man’s pale corpse on its surface. The dead man with the C-shaped scar on his head looked familiar. And so did the surrounding area. This is it, he realized. This was the battleground where he struggled, labored, and killed. All for her–Jocelyn–the woman he loved.
It felt very normal when the earth started giving way beneath their feet. Calvin’s gaze dropped to observe the action. Below them, dirt turned to ash. A thick, pluming mass of it replaced the solid ground, forcing them to sink like anchors into a black sea of soot. Deeper they plunged as the dry, cloudy comfort consumed them.
The darkness hid her face from view, but he held firm to her hands, assured that she was there, unwilling to let her go. A heightened thrill shot through him as Jocelyn made silent promises. Suggesting, to his mind alone, that she would be his if only he did as she wished.
He would. Anything.
Their journey came to an abrupt stop, and Calvin’s hands were suddenly empty. Jocelyn was no longer there.
“Jocelyn,” he shouted, straining to see in the darkness.
All was black, silent, and still. He stretched his arms forward, took bold steps into the obscure space ahead, determined to find her. He wandered further, moving to his right, and then his left, hands reaching, eyes straining, panic hindering every desperate move.
He was taken by surprise when a silver moon appeared overhead, full and magnificent, lending a metallic glow to the unknown world around him. He’d thought, only moments ago, he was far beneath the earth’s surface. Yet with the moon glowing high in the dusky sky, and trees and rocks surrounding him, it looked as if he was simply back on the canyon ground.
“Jocelyn,” he cried before repeating the call once more. Desperate. Frantic. “Jocelyn!”
His answer came as a transparent image floated into view. It was just a strange outline at first, but slowly, the vision came to life–it was her. A voice filled his mind, told him to be patient, to watch. He was witnessing the tale of her past.
A long, silky gown flowed over the beauty’s slender form. She was dragging a heavy piece of slate toward the altar, struggling with the weight, aching beneath the pressure. He wanted to weep at the sight of her anguish. But it was more than the sight that affected him; he could feel it as well. Taste the bitter resentment, strong and stringent on his tongue. An angry fire roared within him, and he broke out in beads of sweat.
Moonlight glistened in the tears on her cheeks as Jocelyn struggled to hoist the large rock into place. When she cried out from the exertion, Calvin clenched his eyes shut and let out a groan, long and slow, the strong hands of agony tightening around his heart. Such sorrow, such fierce despair that he feared his body might collapse.
It was then he heard the inner workings of her mind. Sad and pure. He doesn’t love me, the young, almost child-like voice cried. It stung. Winston loves another. The words were sharp, each inflicting fresh wounds of their own. He left me, and now he’ll pay, the sweet voice promised.
Calvin’s chest swelled. The offender should pay, he agreed, for making her suffer.
A great spurt of excitement rushed through him as he watched her climb onto the altar. Poised on her knees, she stretched her arms out like wings, thrusting her chin high toward the sky. Long locks of ebony hair crept down her back, a glorious raven ready for flight.
Closer to triumph now.
While bringing her hands together in a mighty teepee above her head, Jocelyn began to chant. Potent words spilled feverishly from her lips in hypnotic rhythm, promising her faithful return, her resolve for conquest.
Even closer to triumph now.
Three times she repeated the verse, conviction ringing stronger with each fervent word. Her final threat hung in the resounding ring, clinging to his ears like a long, lasting promise. And then silence fell over the scene.
An intoxicating blend of pride and anticipation surged through him as he watched her secure the grip on the knife. Then, in a swooping motion, fast and fierce, Jocelyn thrust the dagger deep into her chest. Her piercing scream echoed throughout the land as she dropped in a lifeless slump on the altar.
She was gone. And Calvin felt her absence, cursed the emptiness. The intense beating of his heart became an echo in his head, the only sound he could hear. Jocelyn’s body disappeared, but the altar remained. The moon’s powerful beam began to contract, narrowing until it was one, bold flood of light pointing at the glorious object on the altar. Gold and lovely, beckoning him with a voice of its own, lay the mighty dagger.
Sweat coated his palms. He rubbed them against his jeans as he stepped forward, halting when Jocelyn appeared before him.
“You live for me,” she purred.
“Yes,” he agreed. Truer words had never been spoken. Calvin took another step, but when he attempted to step forward once more, Jocelyn stopped him short.
“You killed for me,” she sang.
“Yes.” He remembered, with unfailing clarity, the feel of the blade sin
king into Jocelyn’s enemy, the way the blood pooled. Yes, it was for her, all for her. He was allowed to step forward once more. His breath quickened. Closer, ever closer.
“You’ll die for me,” she spoke again.
“Yes.”
***
“Calvin?” Fear pumped thick in Evie’s heart as she eyed the surface of the water, waiting for him to break through. Too long. It had been way too long. “Calvin,” she yelled louder this time.
She kept her eyes on the spot where he’d gone under. Not even a ripple remained. She knew he’d gone to the other side to look for the pendant, that he’d want her to remain there where it was safe. But each second that crept by in the dim, haunting atmosphere felt like hours.
The witchy voice cackled in the background. The moaning man joined in. But the body of water stayed quiet, and Evie wondered how long she could wait.
***
Calvin followed the alluring woman as she walked backward, step by step toward the altar. His eyes were drawn to the splendid glint of gold behind her, the dagger, shining in all its glory. His mouth watered at the beautiful sight. It was the key, his means to getting what he desired–Jocelyn, beside him forever.
It was his turn now, and each blessed step brought him closer to his fate, his destiny. The alluring woman directed him, guided him, showed him. Vivid images of what should come next played blissfully in his head. He’d do what Jocelyn had done. Courageously. Valiantly. One small sacrifice and she’d belong to him.
“Winston, my sweet Winston Knight,” Jocelyn sang. Her fingers swept across his chest. He nodded, unsure whether that was really his name. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know his name. Didn’t need anything except for her and her alone… and that thing on her neck. It looked familiar.
He reached out, grabbed the hypnotic pendant. “What is this?”
A rush of anger flared in her eyes. “Winston,” she said tersely. “Ignore this. It is me that you want. Not this tarnished trinket.”
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