by Boone Brux
Luc managed another direct hit to the thick jaw, causing the stranger to release his skull and reel backward. Black dots danced in front of his eyes and he struggled to sit up, but he was still trapped under the weight of the man. With no escape, he lifted his arms to block the incoming assault but gained little relief. Kicks followed punches, battering any exposed body parts. Luc curled into a ball, shielding himself from the free-for-all, which now felt like multiple hands, multiple feet, and multiple people.
The sound of breaking bottles rang from somewhere seconds before shards of glass showered him. The beating suddenly stopped, followed by a thunderous crash next to him.
Taking advantage of the lull in his thrashing, Luc uncurled and rolled over to push up to his hands and knees. The tang of blood mixed with the stale taste of ale. His stomach roiled and he coughed, making it difficult to breathe. The swelling around his eyes impeded his vision and the hot throbbing of his cheek vibrated from his temple to his teeth. He reached for the table to help him stand, but missed. Strong hands wrapped around his biceps and jerked him off the ground.
“Not again,” he moaned, squinting through bloated lids. In the tavern’s dim light he could barely make out the two cloaked figures holding him. “You’re not going to hit me, are you?” His head swam from the pummeling and the numerous pints of ale he’d consumed. “Cuz, I must say, I feel I’ve had my fair share tonight.”
Each stranger secured one of his arms around their shoulders and dragged him toward the door. Luc’s legs wouldn’t cooperate with his mental command to stand and fight. None too gently, they jostled him up the narrow stairs and out onto the dark street. Cool air brushed his face.
“No more fighting for you tonight,” a deep voice ordered.
“Damn, and I was doing so well, don’t you think?” He laughed and winced, then swung his head toward the speaker. A black hood shielded the man’s face, making it impossible to identify him. Luc stumbled, but they held him upright. “Did my father send you?”
“No,” the other stranger said.
Luc craned his neck, trying to bring the second man into focus, but the action only made his head bobble uncontrollably. The world spun and thunder ricocheted inside his skull. He inhaled, trying to settle his stomach. The smell of rotting fish and seawater filled his nostrils. Vague recognition cued him to the fact that they were traveling along the docks. Ships creaked and rocked against their lines and the noise from the tavern faded into the lapping of waves.
Their footsteps sounded hollow and overly loud against the wooden planks of the pier. With great effort, Luc concentrated on not stumbling.
Another cloaked figure stood at the end of a gangway, watching their approach. The image wavered and slowly settled into focus. The person appeared smaller than the two men holding him.
Luc’s fighting spirit rallied. He could probably overpower the smaller one if need be. The strangers shifted, hefting him higher. Luc’s stomach muscles clenched against the piercing ache in his side. Maybe he could take the little one, but he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to.
Progress up the gangway was slow. Luc tried to widen his swollen eyes, but gained only a fraction of an inch more clarity. He tripped and lurched forward onto the deck of the ship but the men steadied him, taking most of his weight. The surroundings looked familiar. He knew this ship. He was almost certain.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Bed,” one of the strangers said. “To sleep it off.”
“Well now, that’s very decent of you,” Luc said, giving his supporters a grateful smile. “Do me a favor, friends. Don’t tell my father. He’ll kill me if he knows I’ve been fighting again.”
One of the men chuckled but didn’t respond further.
They maneuvered across the deck and around a large blackened hole in the center. The faint odor of charred wood hung in the air. Luc took exaggerated steps away from the hole, the gentle rocking of the ship making it difficult to traverse a safe path. A small door stood open with the smaller stranger waiting at the side.
“This is Rhys Blackwell’s ship.” The need to defend his friend’s vessel flared but quickly fizzled. Every movement took energy—energy he didn’t have. “I hope for your sake he knows you’re using it? Probably does. He knows everything. And Siban, I can’t get away with anything—always knows when I’m lying.”
They ignored his drunken ramblings and they half-walked, half-dragged him across the floor of the captain’s quarters and set him on the bed.
Luc’s injuries coalesced into one giant ache. He groaned and melted into a boneless mass against the bedpost. The cool wood pressed into his aching cheek and prevented him from falling forward.
The smaller figure stepped inside the room, locked the door, and threw back her hood. Black curls tumbled from the covering and pale blue eyes sparkled with concern.
“Ravyn?” Luc tried to widen his lids. He pointed. “Ravyn.”
The two men pulled their cloaks over their heads and tossed them to the side.
“Rhys! Siban! What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass, my friend.” Rhys knelt in front of him and gave a low whistle. “You need to quit stopping fists with your face.”
Luc laughed and winced. “Got in a good punch or two. Did you see it?”
“Impressive,” Ravyn said. She joined Rhys and knelt, pushing Luc’s hair out of his face. Her fingers traced his swollen eye. “Very impressive.”
She cupped a hand against the side of his face and whispered words he couldn’t understand. Heat spread along his cheek and down his neck. The throbbing eased, bringing blessed relief from the headache that had started at the base of his neck. The room began to spin.
“Lay back on the bed, Luc.” Ravyn’s voice lulled him, zapping any argument he might have considered working up. She swiped her hand across his forehead and pushed the hair away from his face. “Everything is going to be all right.”
His body went willingly and settled against the soft down tick. The scent of lavender wafted from the pillow when he laid his head on it, reminding him of Ravyn. Her fingers lingered against his skin before she rose to stand next to Rhys.
Even in his drunken state, Luc was glad he couldn’t fully make out their expressions. He thought he’d caught a hint of uncertainty in Ravyn’s expression. Maybe it was disappointment or pity. He was suddenly grateful that his eyelids were nearly swollen shut. Nobody spoke. Shame crept over him, but he’d lost the capacity to care what people thought of him long ago. Drink melted his pride and numbed his morals.
“Is he strong enough?” Rhys asked, looking at Ravyn. “Maybe we should wait until he sobers up.”
“I think these are just bruises and cuts and a lot of ale.” She looked at Rhys. “But I’ll heal him first. We can’t risk anything going wrong. I’m already guessing at too much.”
“What are you talking about?” Luc tried to sit up, certain he needed to be involved in whatever plan his friends were discussing. “I can help.”
Rhys lifted Luc’s hand and held his wrist in a tight grip. “Test him.”
“Test me for what?” he slurred.
Rhys threaded his fingers through Luc’s, pulling his hand open. Before Luc could react, Ravyn stepped forward and sliced his palm with a knife. The lamplight caught the blade and Luc recognized it as Ravyn’s immortal dagger, the weapon used to convert a Bringer to full power.
“Son of a—” Luc cried.
Rhys released him. Luc snatched his hand back to stare at the blood that welled but didn’t spill from the gash across his palm. He clenched his fist against the pain.
“Why the shaggin’ Saints did you cut me?”
“In death there is life,” Ravyn said. “In sacrifice, return.”
A tingle sparked in Luc’s hand. Heat raced along the cut. He opened his fist and stared at the slash. Pain snaked along the wound but his protest died on his lips. Threads of euphoria pushed against his muddled mind.
“All bar
riers destroyed and evil be spurned,” Ravyn continued.
Luc let his hand fall open to rest on the bed and looked at Ravyn, blinking several times to bring her into view. White light pulsed around her and ribbons of gold coiled outward, dancing around him. The burning of the cut faded away to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of love.
“No hindrance remain, from our blood be renewed.”
He tried to sit up again, needing to go to her, but Siban pushed him back down. Her words were like a warm rain spilling over Luc, drenching and cleansing the stain on his soul. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye but he didn’t wipe it away.
“That which was taken settle in those who Bring true,” Ravyn finished.
“Ahhh!” Luc clutched his hand to his chest “What’s happening?”
His two friends knelt by the bed—Rhys, his best friend, at his feet and Siban, the mixed-blood Tell who Luc had recently come to think of as a friend, by his head. Ravyn stood.
“Relax, Luc.” Ravyn’s voice penetrated his pain. “We’re almost finished.”
Rhys laid his body across his legs as Siban stood over him and pressed his biceps to the bed.
“Finished?” Luc held Ravyn’s gaze, wanting nothing more than to go to her. He struggled against the men’s hold. “Release me.”
A spark of reality pushed through the haze of euphoria that gripped him. Being pinned down, unable to move, was tantamount to complete submission. Never was he completely at somebody’s mercy. He kicked and twisted against his restrainers. The sensation of being bound pushed away all traces of confusion. Panic rose.
“Damn you, let me go!” His shout filled the room. Surely, somebody would hear him. “Why are you doing this?”
He thrashed about, needing to get free, but the men shifted their weight to pin him fully to the bed.
“Hurry up,” Rhys growled.
Ravyn stepped to the bed and Luc froze, trying to understand the scene before him. Blue light glowed around the blade of the dagger she held—pointed directly at his chest—her intent clear.
A single word hissed from him. “Why?”
“Because we need you.” Ravyn’s voice quivered slightly.
“But are we not friends?”
“Yes, Luc.” The sweetest smile pulled at Ravyn’s mouth. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. “The best of friends.”
Before he could reply, she straightened and brought the dagger down, plunging it into his chest, burying it deep. The blade bit into his skin and burned a path to his heart. Searing heat spread across his chest as blackness closed around his vision.
One word slipped from Luc’s lips before darkness claimed him. “Betrayer.”
CHAPTER THREE
A light scraping and a heavy whoosh sounded behind Jade. She didn’t turn, knowing all too well who was there.
“Where is he?” Rell said.
Jade pointed to the rocking vessel. “On the ship, drunk—again.”
Two hollow steps thumped against the wooden pier, closing the distance between her and Rell. “Are you surprised?”
Jade looked over her shoulder at the demon. Rell’s yellow eyes peered through the dark. Her sister was petite, like she had been as a human, but as a demon she had a temper to rival any titan.
“No.” She shook her head. “Nothing he does surprises me anymore.” Her gaze scanned the dock area, making sure no late night tavern-goers stumbled close to her hiding spot behind a stack of crates. “Why are you here? You might be seen.”
“Never fear, little sister. I’m very careful.” The demon folded her leathery green wings behind her and reclined against a wooden box. “Besides, it’s safer here than near Vile.”
“Why?” Jade turned back to the ship, irritated by the demon’s intrusion. Her sister demanded so much of her attention. At times, it seemed her whole purpose in life was to serve Rell.
“He’s angry—very angry.”
Jade shuddered at the thought of the Demon King. She’d seen him once when she was eight years old. Though Rell had ordered her never to leave the hot pool cavern where they hid in the Shadow World, curiosity had gotten the better of her. One day, when her sister had left to hunt for food, Jade had crept from the cave and down the forbidden corridor to the Bane hive. Heavy footsteps had thundered along the passage, giving her a few panicked seconds warning of a demon’s approach. She’d slipped into a narrow gap in the rock wall and backed into the shadows. Even today that memory made her blood run cold.
From Rell’s description, she’d recognized the Demon King immediately. Vile had stopped, halted by another demon’s call. His massive body had filled her view, his webbed wings soaring beyond her sight. At first she’d thought his blue skin was marbled with black. But then he’d turned, exposing his wide chest to her, and she realized the marbling was an intricate pattern of symbols she didn’t recognize.
After Vile’s footfalls had faded, she’d rushed from her hiding place. Too afraid the king or another demon would find her, she’d sprinted back to her cavern. Never again did she venture beyond the hot pools where she felt safe and never did she confess her disobedience to Rell.
She pulled herself from her childhood memory. “Why is Vile angry?”
“The Blackwell Bringer. It seems he’s a full-blood, in possession of all his Shield powers.”
Jade spun to face her sister. “What happened?”
Rell laughed. “Oh, Jade. You should have seen him. He was glorious, shifting in a blink of an eye to a dragon, breathing fire and all.”
“Shhh.” Jade put her finger to her lip but recognized the dreamy expression flittering across Rell’s face. Even as a human, her sister had been prone to dramatics. “Somebody will hear you.”
“The way he wrapped his body around the woman.” Rell wound her arms around her torso, heedless of Jade’s warning. “Protecting her.”
Dread pulled at Jade. “What woman?”
“The female Bringer. The woman you pretended to be friends with.”
The desire to contradict her sister’s assumption that her friendship with Ravyn was a ruse nearly slipped out, but she bit her tongue. Let Rell believe what she wanted. It made no difference. In the end, the only important thing was keeping her sister rooted in the land of the living. Each time Rell spoke of love or their childhood, she seemed almost human again.
“His face.” Rell’s yellow eyes swirled with green. “You should have seen his expression when he thought the Bringer woman was dead.” She curled her talons into a fist and placed it against her heart. “Such love. Such anguish.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I could almost taste it.”
“Ravyn was hurt?” A pang of concern shot through Jade.
“Not hurt—dead.”
Jade shook her head. “But I saw her tonight. She looked unharmed.”
“Really?” The dreamy look melted from Rell’s face. “How can this be? I saw her drive a blade into her heart and fall into death’s sleep.”
“Well…” Jade crossed her arms again, trying to fit the conflicting information together. “She’s not dead.”
“I’m beginning to understand.” Rell tapped her chin with a talon. “During one of Vile’s rants he let slip about an immortal weapon. It seems your Bringer friends have more surprises up their sleeves than we originally thought.”
“How did Rhys find the Shadow World?” Jade asked. “Especially the entrance leading to the throne room. Isn’t that opening hidden unless you know where to look?”
Rell gave her a fanged smile. “He had help.”
Jade furrowed her brow. “What kind of help?”
“Bane help.”
“You?”
Her sister laughed. “Hardly. No, the demon who helped Blackwell had a lot to lose.” She paused. “Or gain.”
Jade thought for a second. What demon was brave enough to foil Vile’s plans? Only a few Bane came to mind. Most of the demons were minions and not capable of doing much beyond the bidding of their king.
“Sha-hera?”
Rell smirked. “No. Though that bitch definitely has designs on the throne.”
“If not Sha-hera…” Jade trailed off. No, it’s not possible. The name barely topped a whisper. “Icarus?”
A smile spread across her sister’s mouth, her almond-shaped eyes sparkling in the dark. “I daresay the good son is tired of being under his father’s thumb.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I saw him. He didn’t know I was there. If he had, I wouldn’t be standing here now.” Rell crossed her arms and nodded. “But I saw him help the Bringer escape.”
Vile was horrifying, but Icarus defied description. He was beautiful in an unworldly way. Where most demons were reprehensible, Icarus’s allure was intoxicating and deadly. Once, when Jade had been a teenager, she’d encountered Icarus. He’d come upon her as she bathed in the hot pools in the Shadow World. She’d thought he’d kill her, or at the very least steal her soul, but he’d only watched, crouched at the edge of the water, silent.
How long he stayed, she couldn’t say. To her, the experience had lasted hours. The memory of that day still filled her with fear.
“Much has happened since I left the ship,” Jade said. Her gaze leveled back on the glowing windows of the captain’s quarters. She thought about Luc. “And many things have stayed the same.”
The demon tilted her head. “You sound disappointed. You’re not having doubts are you?” She laid a hand on Jade’s shoulder. “He must pay for what he has done to our family—for what he has brought upon me.”
Jade wasn’t so sure anymore, but instead of voicing her opinion, she simply nodded, knowing it would be enough to placate Rell.
A cry erupted from the ship. Jade pivoted and crept to the edge of the crates to peek around the corner. “I’m going to try to find out what is happening.”
“Have a care, sister.”
Jade looked over her shoulder and nodded. She needed to stay hidden because when she killed Luc, she wanted no connection to him. Without another word, she crouched and darted to a group of wooden barrels. When no shout of discovery went up, she raced to the gangway and tiptoed along it, silently easing onto the wooden deck.