Prey (Supernaturals of Las Vegas Book 2)

by Carina Cook

  She led him to the door, opening it cautiously. A single scullion sat slumped in a chair, watching the hearth. Derek held up a finger, then pointed to himself. That was fine with Citrine. If it made him happy to subdue the drab, she would leave him to it. She waited, on the alert, as he snuck through the partially opened door and into the room beyond. As she’d hoped, he seemed much less distracted now that they were in the castle itself, with its constant magical noise running ever-present in the background. He stopped just behind the girl, the light from the fire playing over his muscles.

  The fire popped, startling the girl from her drowse. She half turned, saw Derek, and exclaimed, “What—” But that was as far as she got. His hands closed around her neck, and he squeezed until the strength went out of her legs. Citrine entered, listening for any sign that someone had heard, but no one came. After a moment, she relaxed.

  “Dead?” she asked, looking at the girl.

  He shook his head. “Unconscious. I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. Unless…you think we have to?”

  “We’ll lock her in the cold room. One of the scullions did that to me while I worked here. Jealous, I think. But that didn’t exactly help me when I was shivering in there. No one got me out for two whole days.” She relented under his stricken look. “I’m not saying we should leave her there that long. We can let her out on our way out of the building if you want. Or leave a note. Someone will find her.”

  Reassured, he nodded, picking up the girl. “Where next?”

  “Into the servant’s tunnels. They run behind the walls of the main rooms so Ilimitaine and his courtiers won’t be sullied by contact with a bunch of servants.” She kept her voice quiet but couldn’t manage to keep the scorn out of it. “As long as we stay away from the throne room and the wine cellar, we shouldn’t run into anyone. And if we do, we need to act quickly. Discovery at this point would be fatal.”

  “I’ve got your back. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I know you won’t.” She heard the wonder in her voice. The words tumbled out despite the fact that she knew this wasn’t the place or the time to make this kind of declaration. “Derek, you’re the best man I’ve ever met. The best person. I trust you, and I’ve never trusted anyone before. I know you won’t let me down, and I hope you know the same.”

  He nodded promptly. “Of course I do. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

  Her jaw dropped, and after a moment, she smacked him. Not hard. Just a light slap on the face. His eyes widened in shock, and he almost dropped the unconscious girl in his arms.

  “I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I thought you know. I thought…maybe you felt the same.”

  “Of course I do, you idiot. But how dare you tell me while we’re covered in garbage, naked, and sneaking into a castle? First of all, there isn’t enough time to jump you, and secondly, it’ll be very awkward to tell this story later. We’re naked and covered in garbage, and you’ve got another woman in your arms.”

  He relaxed, snickering. “I’ll try to have better timing next time.”

  “See that you do,” she replied. “Now come on. Before someone shows up.”

  Derek carried the girl to the cold room, and Citrine locked her inside. Then they moved as one toward the tunnels.

  “Which way?” Derek whispered.

  Citrine didn’t even need to look. She knew these narrow, rough hewn tunnels like the back of her hand. She’d run through them as a servant and been carried through them as a gladiator. A few times, she’d only been able to crawl. You could get anywhere in the castle through them. The dungeons where she’d slept every night for the past fifty years or so. The throne room where Ilimitaine held sway. The scullery. And most important, to the hallway where Ben kept his rooms. That had to be where he was holding Hex and Jenny. He wouldn’t be able to stash them in the dungeon; the presence of two human women would attract attention that he would badly want to avoid. He would have to hide them in his quarters, and she was willing to bet that he was there, watching over his prisoners and waiting for the inevitable moment when she would come to rescue them.

  “This way,” she said, gesturing down to the right. “The other way is shorter, but it takes us through more crowded parts of the castle. We’ll go around the long way.”

  He looked mournfully at the tight quarters. They were plenty tall, but his broad shoulders filled most of the space. He didn’t complain, though. Just nodded.

  “Lead the way. I’m ready to punch that sumbitch to kingdom come and end this,” he said.

  Citrine couldn’t have agreed more. She started down the tunnel with Derek at her heels. It was time for Ben to pay for what he’d done.

  CHAPTER 18

  Between the dark, dank monotony of the halls and the need to be on constant alert, the minutes stretched like taffy. Derek didn’t know how long they’d been sneaking about or how much further they had to go, but it couldn’t have been too long or too far. Once, they’d had to backtrack when the sound of echoing footsteps came marching toward them, but they’d never seen whoever was producing them. Someone with heavy feet, Derek assumed.

  He was hoping they’d arrive to Ben’s rooms soon. Partly because he was getting impatient and partly because he needed to urinate. He’d had too much water before he left his office. Probably he ought to have gone while they were in the fens, but he hadn’t thought of it then.

  To distract himself from the uncomfortable full feeling in his bladder, he tried thinking of other things. Of how good it would feel to know that Hex and Jenny were safe. How good it would feel to jump through Ben’s door and… what? They had no plan. Or perhaps Citrine had one and wasn’t telling him about it, just like she’d failed to mention that they would have to swim through refuse to get into the castle. He would have done it anyway, and it was a bit of an insult that she’d thought it would have made that big of a deal to him. What else was she concealing from him?

  He inched up close to her as she paused at a corner, putting his ear right next to her lips. Her smooth shoulder skimmed his chest. It would have felt better if they weren’t both covered in dried slime, but it was still nice.

  “What’s the plan?” he whispered. “Don’t keep it from me.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were dark in the dim light and could have passed for human. But for the first time, he realized that the tips of her ears, poking out from under her unusually flat, sodden hair, were slightly pointed. So maybe she wouldn’t have passed so well after all.

  “Keep it from you?” she said, her voice as quiet as his.

  “You opted not to tell me about the garbage. That’s ridiculous. I can handle whatever’s going to happen, no matter how distasteful, but you need to tell me. You trust me, remember?” he said.

  “Oh.” She seemed nonplussed, and her gaze faltered under the intensity of his. “Of course you’re right. It’s…just habit. Playing things close to my chest, I mean. But here’s what I think we should do.” She turned around to face him, inching closer. He could feel the heat of her body only inches away and struggled to focus on what she was saying. “I’ll go in first. Make a big show of it. He’ll focus entirely on me, or maybe even think that I came alone. Once I’ve got his full attention, you sneak over to him and end it.”

  Derek shook his head in automatic refusal.

  “No, I should go first. His magic doesn’t work on me. It does on you.”

  “That’s exactly why it should be me. If he thinks he’ll lose, he might just call for help. Raise the alarm. At least he’ll save some face that way. We’ve got to make him think he’s got this in the bag,” she said.

  Frowning, he turned this argument over in his mind but couldn’t find a way to poke holes in it.

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, putting her hand against his cheek. “I can take it.”

  “I know. But you shouldn’t have to.”

  For a moment, she seemed at a loss f
or words. Then she shrugged.

  “Well, I’m doing it. I hope you’re coming, though, because otherwise this plan is going to go badly.”

  She started back down the tunnel. She was a stubborn little thing, and Derek wasn’t sure if he admired her for it or was exasperated by it. Probably a bit of both. He shrugged too and followed her, scenting the air for signs of approach. Mostly, he could smell the putrid slime that caked their hair and coated their bodies, but his nose was sensitive enough that he should be able to catch someone if they managed to sneak up close. At least the magic echoes in the tunnels were weak and distant. It would be fine. It would all be fine.

  Finally, they came to a door. Citrine gestured to it silently, and Derek quickly understood her meaning. They were emerging out into the main area of the castle. Ben’s room was close. She opened the door silently, edging her head out to look around on the other side. Someone must have been there, because she said, “I beg your pardon,” and ducked her head.

  “You look filthy,” said the other person in nasal, aristocratic tones. “What a disgrace.”

  “Yessir,” mumbled Citrine. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  She kept a death grip on the door, blocking her nakedness—not to mention Derek—from view. But Derek could smell the perfume of the fae on the other side, and he built a mental picture of the man based on his voice and his scent. He would be tall and thin like Ben, with a pinched nose and a sharp face. He would rely on his magic and not expect a full on physical attack, if it came down to it. But such an altercation must attract attention, and Derek did not want to give Ben the advance warning. He had to stay back here and hope that Citrine could get rid of the fellow.

  “Go to your master and tell her to beat you. Or maybe I should do it myself.” There was a pause, and Citrine’s body jerked as the man on the other end grabbed her by the hair. She made no move to defend herself, but her hold on the door didn’t budge. “Blast and drast! I can’t have you making me late for the arena. What is your name, scullion?”

  “Cit…Citrek.”

  “I will come and find you later tonight and beat some sense into you. Perhaps you might even enjoy it,” said the unseen faerie in nasty, dark tones.

  “Yessir.”

  Without another word, the man left. Derek could hear his departing footsteps, and the cloying scent of his gradually faded. It didn’t make Derek any less angry, though. He couldn’t believe how horrible things were here. When it came to faeries, Disney had gotten things very, very wrong.

  But Citrine didn’t seem phased by what had happened. That might be the worst part of it all, that she was used to this kind of existence. That she considered it normal. But if he had his way, it would not be normal for her. Nor for Jenny. Or Hex.

  In the wake of the man’s departure, Citrine pulled the door open, gesturing for him to follow. Derek complied. They’d lucked out so far, avoiding discovery as they had. But a place this big had to have many residents—that faerie hadn’t recognized Citrine at first glance, after all. Their luck couldn’t hold out forever.

  Luckily, they didn’t have to go far. They emerged into a pristine white stone hallway. The difference between this passageway and the one they’d come from was extreme. This hallway telegraphed to anyone who walked its length that its owner was powerful and rich and cold as ice. There was no sense of comfort in the glowing white walls. They nearly blinded him.

  He ducked his head against the brightness and followed Citrine down three doors. Each doorway was made of a different material—stones and woodgrains the like of which he’d never seen. The door she’d stopped in front of was presumably Ben’s and was made of a wood with dripping red veins in it that reminded him uncomfortably of blood. She took the handle, a spiked and uncomfortable looking contraption, and gestured for him to stay put.

  He nodded and squeezed her shoulder. He didn’t like this plan one bit, but he couldn’t think of a better one. The one good thing about it was that if that sadistic faerie came back, Citrine wouldn’t be here to stop Derek from killing him. Both Derek and his wolf thought that was a very good idea indeed.

  As Citrine opened the door and marched boldly into the room, Derek hung back, shifting into his wolf form. If he was discovered, people might think he was a wild animal. Furthermore, his intensified senses would be better attuned to what was happening on the other side of the door. His bulk had kept the door from fully latching behind her, which made that process easier.

  “There you are, Citrine. Did you bring me the wand?”

  Ben’s familiar voice was full of self-satisfaction and greed. Derek couldn’t believe he’d missed it before. But then again, he’d been all too eager to mistrust his instant attraction to Citrine after spending so long feeling dead inside. It was a reason, but not a good excuse.

  “I hid it. Release them, and I’ll tell you where it is.”

  “You hid it?” Derek could hear the laughter in Ben’s voice. He didn’t even bother to try hiding it. “And where is your feral wolf man?”

  “A bogle got him in the fens,” said Citrine, and she sounded near to tears. Funny how that warmed Derek’s heart even though he knew she was acting. But she had to really care about him to be that convincing, didn’t she? “I tried to save him, but it was too late. He drowned.”

  “You came out in the fens? Brave girl. And a smart one too. That explains why I didn’t feel you open the portal. But I don’t think you’re quite smart enough.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Your mage, the one who messed with the wand.” His voice drew out into an angry hiss. “She missed something. She didn’t realize that I’m still linked to the wand, did she? So I know you’re lying. I know you have it with you.”

  “Maybe I’ll open up a portal then and get the hell out of here,” said Citrine angrily.

  “Go ahead. I’ll have fun with your friends while you’re gone.”

  Derek heard a small noise of pain that made his hackles rise. He wanted to leap in there and tear our Ben’s throat, but he knew he couldn’t. Ben could do anything to the shifterkin in the few seconds it would take Derek to cross the space between them. He had to trust in Citrine and wait.

  “Stop.” Now Citrine sounded weary beyond her years. “Look, just let them go. We’ll trade. Me and the wand for them.”

  “But why would I do that when I can have all three of you?”

  Ben’s voice was gentle, at odds with Citrine’s sudden yelp of pain. It was cut off so suddenly that for a heart stopping moment, Derek thought Ben might have killed her outright. But then she cried out again, a long and drawn out wail of a person who has lost all hope.

  “No, no, please no,” she babbled. “Ben, don’t. Please don’t.”

  But Benveniste just laughed. Not the dark and sadistic laugh of a seasoned torturer, but the light giggle of a young child at play. Somehow, that was even more disturbing.

  Now was the time. Derek nosed the door open with every ounce of caution he could muster, but Ben’s back was to him. He stared down at Citrine’s naked body, writhing on the ground. Derek didn’t know what illusions Ben wove around her. He couldn’t see anything. But Citrine clutched at her head as if she was in torment.

  In the corner, bound and gagged, Jenny and Hex huddled together in a terrified heap. He could see the wet trail of tears beneath both of their blindfolds. As he watched, Hex tensed, her nostrils flaring. She smelled him. She grabbed at Jenny, trying to get her attention. For the moment, Ben didn’t notice their excitement, but Derek had to move before the shifterkin gave him away on accident.

  He crept forward on soft paws, stalking his prey with careful deliberation. He would not brush up against something with his tail and draw Ben’s attention. Although Ben’s attention was more than absorbed by Citrine. He’d found the wand wound up in her snarl of hair and was trying to work it free while she thrashed and begged for mercy.

  “Would you stop it?” he said irritably, as if he wasn’t responsible for her pain in th
e first place. But she couldn’t stop, and he finally just ripped the wand free from her head, bringing a big snarl of her hair along with it. Citrine yelped, but the pain didn’t compare to whatever was going on inside her mind.

  Ben held the wand up, a look of triumph on his face.

  “Finally,” he said. “Now the king will reward me in the ways I deserve. I’m tired of being his errand boy. This should show him that I’m suited for more. I’m sure he’ll love to—”

  But they had no chance to find out what the king would love to do, because Derek had had enough. He tensed his legs. Sprang. Knocked the wind out of Benveniste as he landed on his chest, brought him down, and tore out his throat. The faerie didn’t even have a chance to scream.

  Hex jerked at her bonds, trying desperately to get free. Derek shifted back to his human form and looked down at Citrine, torn over who to save first, but the faerie lay panting on the floor.

  “Go on,” she said weakly. “Untie them.”

  He did as she asked, crossing the room to Hex and leaning over her to tear the cruelly tight restraints free. As soon as her hands were free, she yanked off her own gag.

  “Blech!” she said. “Go on. Get Jenny.”

  Derek did as he was bid. As soon as the blindfold came off of Jenny’s eyes, she let out a muffled shriek and shut her eyes again.

  “What?” demanded Derek. “What’s wrong? Does the light hurt your eyes? Did he hurt you?”

  “You’re naked! And you’re like my son! Did you really think that the first thing I wanted to see when I was finally saved was your penis?” she exclaimed. “Are you insane?”

  Behind him, on the floor, Citrine began to giggle. It was weak and hysterical and infectious. It didn’t take long for the rest of them to join in.

  CHAPTER 19