by Lizzy Ford
She had to stay focused. Swiping at tears, she registered Darkyn’s words as her eyes identified the dark clothing laid out on the bed. Deidre lifted the dress with trembling hands. It was muted black, made out of material smoother than silk that draped over her arm like a second skin.
“I can do this,” she told herself. “I kinda don’t have a choice, since I fucked up.”
She changed out of her familiar clothing into the dress that matched the black world around her. The simple cut reminded her of something she’d seen in movies about ancient Rome: loose-fitted and airy, it was secured by a thin cord around her neck. The material hugged the natural curves of her body, pooling at the top of her feet. It was light enough that she felt naked, especially with the cut that left her back, arms and shoulders completely exposed.
Her fingertips touched the metal choker he slid around her neck. It was solid and slender with no release mechanism or clasp. There was scarring on her neck from where he’d bitten her. Deidre dropped her hand quickly from the knotted skin, alarm pulsing through her.
He was going to turn her Immortal. What did that mean?
Fuck the tumor. If she saw an escape route, she was gone.
“Do as Darkyn says, Deidre.”
She spun at the voice, startled to see Mr. Checkmate, the man she’d met on the beach when she arrived at the Sanctuary the first time. He was out of place, a bright light in the corner of the dimly lit room, dressed casually in jeans, T-shirt and hiking boots.
“This will not provide much comfort, but Darkyn was your only real chance of living,” he added. “Assuming you survive what he does to you.”
“I’m kinda hoping I don’t right now,” she said. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
“Deities tend to do what they want,” Mr. Checkmate replied.
“You’re … you can’t be the Dark One.”
“I am not,” he said with a wide grin. “I’m worse. I’m Fate.”
“You got that right,” she muttered. “You’ve been kicking my ass for awhile now. I don’t suppose you’re here to cut me a break?”
“I just did.”
“Obey the psycho demon that wants to suck my blood.”
“Exactly.”
“If I do, will everything be okay?” she asked, searching his face for any indication she survived the ordeal and left Hell.
“That’s not how the Future works. There is no single event that determines the outcome of one’s destiny,” he said with a shake of his head. “But, if you do this one thing, you increase your chances of being relatively okay by about thirty seven percent for a total of just under fifty-fifty.”
“Do what the demon says and almost have a fifty percent chance of surviving. Disobey him and I have like, a ten percent chance.”
“You’ve got it.”
“I’m under the impression your kind doesn’t do things for free. Why are you helping me? Do you have an even worse vengeance planned?” she demanded.
“Better. I have a preferred outcome, one that involves you surviving and the soul embedded in your head not.”
She touched her head self-consciously. Darkyn wanted the soul alive while Fate wanted the opposite. Who was she more likely to side with? As if sensing her doubt and growing panic, Fate drew near her, face grave.
“Deidre, you must do exactly as I say,” Fate said. “You must obey him, no matter how much you do not wish to. Your life is not the only one dependent upon this.”
“Gabriel,” she breathed. “Oh, god, have I put him in danger?”
Fate’s eyes changed colors rapidly. His subtle magic brushed by her, through her. It was warm, like Gabriel’s, not cold like Darkyn’s. Comforted by the familiar sensation, she sensed she was better off trusting Fate than the Dark One.
“No,” he replied. “If you do as I tell you, you will increase his chances of surviving the destiny Darkyn intends to inflict upon him.”
“I’d never do anything to put Gabriel in danger,” she whispered, distressed by the idea. Surviving her own plight meant nothing if there was no Gabriel for her to return to. “I’ll listen to you. I’ll do whatever Darkyn wants me to. I swear it.”
“Good. I like Gabriel,” Fate said, the intensity leaving his features. “He makes me laugh.”
Her brow furrowed at the odd sentiment.
“It’s not easy to do, when you’ve been alive since the time-before-time,” he added with a wink. His eyes went to the door suddenly. “Darkyn comes. Don’t tell him I was here. We’re not on good terms right now.”
She heard the door open and turned. Without looking, she felt the loss of Fate’s warm energy.
“Come,” Darkyn ordered without entering.
Deidre obeyed. Afraid of what the demon was going to ask her to do, she was resolved not to hurt Gabriel by ignoring Fate’s warning.
“Rules,” Darkyn stated as she joined him in the hallway.
“No running. No fighting,” she recited anxiously.
He reached for her neck. She flinched but didn’t otherwise move.
“Good.” He dropped his hand and started down the hallway. “Come meet the Dark One.”
Swallowing hard, Deidre followed. He strode through more corridors than she was able to count, down several flights of stairs and finally to a short, dead end hallway with a ceiling that towered ten stories above. One set of massive metal doors was all the hall contained. Darkyn strode to them and placed his hand on one. It cracked open silently with enough room for them to enter.
Her courage almost gave out at the idea of walking into the devil’s personal hangout. Deidre felt woozy and paused to steady her breathing. After a moment, she entered the room.
It wasn’t what she expected. There was no way for her to measure the size of the chamber, for the darkness inside was more impenetrable than night, with the exception of a circle of light ten meters from the door. Darkyn waited for her in the circle that stretched about five meters across. She went to him, unable to see through the darkness even while walking through it.
The door closed with an ominous boom that echoed throughout what sounded like a massive but empty chamber.
Her tomb.
Skin clammy with nervous sweat, Deidre concentrated on taking deep breaths.
“You may want to close your eyes.” Darkyn’s laugh was sinister.
She snapped them closed, but not before she saw him slide into the darkness. There was a long moment of silence from the chamber around her, filled by the sound of her breathing as it grew more erratic, louder. She thought she heard something stir once, twice, before she was certain. The scraping of leather against leather, the hollow clatter of stone and shale, the rustle of whatever creature settled behind her.
Near full-blown panic again, Deidre was midway through her second step towards the door when the creature snatched her. At first, the thick leather around her neck felt like a whip. A second settled across the lower half of her face and two more around her torso. They adjusted around her like fingers, leathery and long enough to wrap around her body.
I can do this for Gabriel. She repeated the sentence over and over to try to block out what her senses told her about the size of the monster.
The fingers around her mouth and neck maneuvered her head to the side until her ear was near her shoulder to expose the delicate area before both fell away. She stayed in place. At the touch of the first fang, her eyes flew open. There was no pain, as promised, but the canine was the size of butcher knife.
It slid into her neck, the sound making her nauseous. The second canine slid into her body, just below her collarbone. The creature took a sip of her like from a straw. It left her lightheaded. The second sucked the strength out of her body and brought tunnel vision. Instead of a third drink, a flash of cold fire was forced through the fangs into her body. She felt the cold circulating but no pain.
The creature’s third sip drove her into the darkness between consciousness and sleep. Her body no longer under her control, De
idre sank into the state, clinging to the words of Fate about helping Gabriel. She registered nothing but darkness and cold for awhile before the cold began to fade, and the night behind her eyelids lightened. Her head felt heavy and like it was stuffed with cotton, the way she felt when she came to after surgery.
“Deidre?” Dr. Wynn’s voice penetrated the haze.
What had he tried this time? Deidre didn’t remember what this operation was supposed to do.
“If you can hear me, give me a sign.”
She gave him the same sign she always did: a small smile.
“Good. Relax. Come back when you’re ready.”
She knew if she woke up too fast, she’d feel like she had a hangover. So, she hovered in the quiet darkness for awhile, until the sounds of the outside world were too loud for her to ignore.
Deidre opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, realizing the black she tried to clear from her sight was the black ceiling of the operating room. Confused, she tried again to remember what procedure Dr. Wynn was performing today. She’d been through so many …
“Good news or bad news?” he asked, appearing in her vision.
“Bad,” she replied. Her mouth was dry.
“You’re going to have more scars.”
“Good.”
“It’s gone.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes. Her head didn’t hurt, but it felt weird. Heavy.
“Darling, did you hear me?”
“Maybe,” she replied. She reached up to her head, surprised it wasn’t bandaged and she still had all her hair. “Wait, what happened?”
“I’ll show you. Can you sit up?”
Deidre felt groggy but not like she normally did post-op. She sat up. If anything, she was exhausted and in a recovery room unlike any she’d ever seen before. The advanced medical equipment and sterile scent in the air were the same. The walls, however, were as black as the ceiling.
Stone fortress. Hell. She wore the black dress still.
She gasped. Wynn looked up from his position nearby.
“Oh, god, what did you do to me this time?” she asked, grappling with fuzzy memories.
“Believe it or not, I helped. Look.”
She focused on the chart he held up to the light. It looked like a cat scan of a brain, but it wasn’t hers. This one didn’t have a tumor. It was normal.
Dark chamber. Leathery fingers wrapped around her body. Fangs.
Shuddering, she touched the places where the beast’s canines sank into her body. Wynn was right. These scars were huge and knotted.
“You mean … it’s gone?” she asked, the world registering at last. “Just like that?”
“Gone,” he replied. “You will live a very long life.”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “This is Hell, isn’t it?”
“I got dragged down here involuntarily to make sure you survived, unlike someone who made a deal with the Dark One.” He frowned at her and lowered the chart. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Deidre.”
She shivered. She pushed herself off the bed and tested her body. Aside from fatigue, her body moved and felt the way it should.
“I’ve been instructed to show you to your chamber, after which I’ll be released. Allegedly,” Wynn said. “Then I’m off to tell Gabriel his mate is stuck in Hell.”
Adrenaline started through her system again, clearing some of the fog in her mind. Deidre met the gaze of her betrayer.
“One might argue this is my fault,” Wynn added. “If I hadn’t tried to kill you in the first place, you wouldn’t be a blood slave to the Dark One.”
“Silver lining,” she whispered. “Please.”
“There is no silver lining when you make a deal with him.”
Except that Fate said there was. She couldn’t voice the words. Her chest was too tight. Deidre said nothing.
“Come. I’m anxious to leave this place,” Wynn said and strode to the door.
She trailed, glancing over her shoulder when the two demons outside the recovery room followed. She rubbed her arms and touched the slender choker at her neck.
Their deal was done. The tumor was gone. How long did Fate expect her to stay here?
They didn’t go far, for which she was grateful. Wynn led her to a door guarded by another demon and stepped aside.
“Thank you, Wynn,” she murmured. She wasn’t sure why she expected him to speak but found herself wishing he’d say something.
He didn’t.
The final nail in the coffin of their friendship left her feeling depressed. Deidre opened the door into the familiar chamber and closed it behind her, leaning against it. She was in a lot of trouble, but at least, if Wynn left, he’d tell Gabriel where to find her. From there, she didn’t want to think of what might or might not happen.
She pushed herself away from the door and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was halfway across the room when what she’d seen registered. Her reflection was seated, and her hair was blond. It wasn’t a reflection.
Deidre froze.
“What have you done to my hair?” the female voice asked.
Oh, god. Not this bitch. Deidre took a deep breath and faced the deity previously known as Death. Gabriel’s ex-lover was identical to her in every way, even garbed in the same dress. The only difference was her hair and the eyes that turned from white to black to every color in between. She sat in a chair by the black hearth.
“I like pink,” Deidre replied. “What are you doing here?”
“Recovering, like you.”
“From…. Were you …?” she pointed to her head.
Past-Death’s cold smile did not reach her eyes. Deidre studied her, picking up other signs of how different they were. There was no human color in the woman’s pale cheeks, and her expression was emotionless, as if carved from marble. She stood, her bearing regal and her walk smooth, without the cheerful bounce Deidre had in hers. Everything about the deity screamed careful control.
“I experienced your life with you. I admit, I expected a human existence to be a little less boring,” past-Death mused.
Deidre was still as the creature walked around her, scrutinizing her.
“So you just rode around in my head for twenty six years?” she asked, confused.
“Pretty much. Darkyn was supposed to find me much earlier, according to our agreement.” Past-Death shrugged. “It’s for your benefit he did not. Wynn’s work on us kept you safe and me trapped.”
“I don’t think that was his intention,” Deidre muttered under her breath.
“I want to thank you for the use of your existence,” past-Death continued. “You let me see my Gabriel in a whole new light. Tender, compassionate, weak, like a human, and failing miserably to take my place. Also, no surprise, given his origins.”
Deidre suddenly liked her even less. No Immortal alive had a good opinion of the deity, and the mocking way she spoke about Gabriel infuriated Deidre.
“I made you in my image. Incredible handiwork, don’t you agree?” Past-Death stepped away from her, admiring her like she was a clay pot kilned in the backyard by a bored goddess.
“Fortunately, I’m nothing like you, or I would’ve died long ago as a human,” Deidre replied. “Gabriel wouldn’t have fallen for me, either.”
This drew the deity’s attention. “Interesting. You don’t realize you’re disposable to me. I needed you for awhile, and I no longer do.”
“Thank god. I can go on living a normal life.”
“No. You are the preordained mate of a deity, just as I am. Your fate still lies within the Immortal society.”
Past-Death turned and drew her hair to the side in one elegant motion. Deidre’s breath caught at the name scrolled across the narrow shoulders.
Gabriel.
Deidre recalled what Katie told her about how Immortals only got one mate in the entirety of their lifetimes. How were they both Gabriel’s mates?
“With your deal with Darkyn complete, you’l
l live a very long life.” Past-Death appeared amused by the idea. “As will I with my Gabriel.”
“You made one with Darkyn, too?” Deidre asked. She purposely didn’t take the bait that Gabriel might choose his ex over her. She wanted to deck her mirror image. “Or you wouldn’t be hanging out here.”
“I did, and it’s complete. We have one other small matter between us, but” past-Death smiled again “I don’t lose. The others thought they trapped me, and here I am, against all odds.”
“You left Gabriel a mess. You really think he’ll welcome you back?”
“He will if he thinks I’m you.”
Deidre laughed. “My god. You might have a better chance if you tell him you’re you.”
“Are you that blind, human? Gabriel wouldn’t let himself near you in order to protect you. He fell in love with you .. with us … the first night on the beach. Unwillingly.” Past-Death’s chuckle was as warm as her eyes. “But you did what I knew you would. You made him love us in a way he never loved me.”
The coldness of fear settled into Deidre. How did she warn Gabriel from here?
“You think Darkyn will let you leave here?” she asked. “Or do you have an escape plan you’d like to share?”
“Darkyn won’t stand in my way,” past-Death said with confidence. “There are strings attached to anyone raised from the dead-dead, but these are of no concern to a deity like they might be to a little human like you.”
Toby was right. This woman was a mega-bitch. Deidre wanted to wring Gabriel’s neck for wasting thousands of years with someone like this. Was it true what past-Death said about Gabriel? Did he love Deidre?
She’d never understood his waffling. Whenever she started to think he cared for her, he flipped. Was it to protect her? Or to protect his own heart? Did it matter, if he loved her either way?
Past-Death was going to replace Deidre in Gabriel’s life. Deidre rubbed her face, her head still fuzzy from whatever the Dark One did to her. Gabriel would know. There was no way he couldn’t. It took him almost two weeks, but he’d figured out that Deidre was nothing like his ex-lover.
She needed to get out of here, to warn him before the deity did something horrible to Gabriel. Deidre paced to the fire. It gave off heat despite the black flames. She thought hard about all she’d learned since arriving to Hell.