The warden’s snores filled the room again, and Roan reached into his pocket and pulled out a keyring.
He slipped a long, silver skeleton key into the lock, while I kept my gaze on the warden, watching his chest rise and fall.
The keys clinked against the lock, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from shushing Roan.
Finally, the lock clicked and the door swung slowly open. Beyond it was a long, dark stairway that seemed to plunge into darkness.
Roan closed the door softly behind him.
I couldn’t see jack shit in there, and I looped my arm through Roan’s as we descended the uneven stairs, steadying myself against his powerful body. The smell of mold and blood hung in the air, and the only noise was a slow dripping somewhere in the distance. At one point, something brushed my face, and I fumbled back, swatting at it in panic. A cobweb. Roan grunted, clearly unimpressed. He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. I had to control my fear.
We arrived at the bottom of the stairs, which opened into a dimly lit corridor. Here, on steady ground, I pulled my arm from Roan’s, and we walked into the dank hall, passing closed oak doors. Inset into each were small, barred windows, but they were too high for me to peer inside. At last, we reached an open arch. As we drew closer, I could hear clanking metal, and a small, irregular, high-pitched sound.
A muffled scream.
Roan moved toward the doorway and I followed him, holding my breath as we peered into the room from the shadows.
We stood at the edge of a long, shadowy chamber, its ceiling low and arched. Splotches of deep maroon stained the floor. Around the room, torture instruments hung from racks—iron pliers, spears, and blades. A tin tub of water stood in a dark corner. For drowning, I imagined.
Bile rose in my throat. In the depths of the narrow chamber, a fae male lay on a rough wood table. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles to the table, and a rag gagged his mouth. Deep, red slashes cut across his chest, oozing blood.
And above him stood a woman with long, platinum hair and skin the color of bone. She wore an ethereal sea-foam gown that seemed to float on a ghostly wind, its delicate fabric spattered with maroon droplets.
Her elongated fingers were gloved in a fine white silk, and held an iron comb. Slowly, gracefully, she scraped it down the man’s body. He writhed in agony, screaming into his gag. Horrified, I clutched my stomach, and Roan pulled me closer to him again. When he looked down at me, I saw a deep pain etched on his glamoured features, and his large body trembled against mine. This place wasn’t just getting to me. It was getting to him, too.
Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes, forcing my breath to slow down. The smell of hawthorn trees in the spring, my bare feet in the grass…
Still, the fae’s muffled moans pierced my thoughts, and I quickly stepped away from the door, wiping a tear from my eye.
Okay. Clearly men weren’t responsible for every terrible thing that had ever happened, even if the odds weren’t on their side in general.
Hugging myself, I marched down the hall, and Roan quickly joined me, his body warming mine as he kept close.
My breath shuddered. “She wasn’t even asking him questions. He had a gag in his mouth. What sort of an interrogation was that?”
Roan nodded, his face grim. “Not an interrogation. Vengeance. She was using an iron comb. There is no iron in Trinovantum. The king brought it from your world. The depths of the king’s depravity knows no bounds,” he snarled.
He seemed lost in a Hell of his own thoughts, his brow furrowed. That look I’d seen on his face as we’d stood outside the torture chamber, that raw agony, and his body shaking—I never thought I’d see Roan so unnerved.
The corridor sloped downward and curved to the right as we walked. Torchlight cast dancing light over the stones, and shadows seemed to writhe around us. Every ten feet or so, oak doors interrupted the stone walls, barred with metal.
We walked in silence, Roan’s anger nearly palpable. His glamour had begun to fade, his skin darkening a bit to gold.
I tried not to think of that eerie woman, and her long fingers dragging a comb down the man’s skin.
Roan sniffed the air. “Heather and grass,” he whispered. “She’s near. I can smell her.”
As we rounded a sharp corner, footsteps echoed behind us. My heart thudding, I whirled.
A guard with a long blond beard, dressed in armor, thundered toward us over the stone. “Intruders!” he screamed. He reached for the ceiling, pulling a cord, and a loud chime reverberated through the hall, turning my blood to ice. “Intruders!”
Roan ran for the guard and, in one fluid movement, slammed his fist into the man’s stomach. With a roar, he tore the bell from the ceiling and slammed it into the fae’s face. The man’s skull cracked open.
“Damn it!” Roan shouted. He kicked the guard in the stomach.
I looked around us. Two rows of cells lined the walls, a dozen or so doors on each side.
“Roan!” I said firmly. “Let’s get your friend and get out of here! You said she was near.”
He glanced at me, rage burning deep in his emerald eyes. For a second, I wasn’t sure if he had even heard me, until he nodded. “Yes. I’ll slaughter anyone else who gets in our way. We’re getting out of here.”
Roan reached down, pulling a set of keys from the guard’s belt. He ran down the cell doors, ignoring the piteous calls for help that pierced the oak. I followed after him, until halfway down the hall, he halted abruptly. He peered through the window.
“Elrine?” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Is that you?”
“Roan?” A female voice, weak, trembling. I hurried closer to Roan as he tried one of the keys in the door’s lock, his hands shaking. Down the corridor, footsteps echoed off the stone.
“Here, let me.” I pulled the keys from him. “You take care of the guards.”
He sprinted away from me, unsheathing his sword.
I slid the key into the lock, then clicked it open.
Curled in the corner, a woman hugged her knees. Dirt smudged her beautiful, delicate face. But even in the filth of this cell, she was stunning: violet eyes, full red lips, flame-red hair. Bruises marred her perfect skin, and threadbare rags hung from her curvy body.
Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of me.
I crossed to her, holding out a hand. “I’m here with Roan. We need to get out of here.”
Her brow furrowed. “You’re a pixie.”
“Yeah. I find it just as unbelievable as you do, trust me.”
In the hall, Roan roared, and metal clanged off the stone.
“Hurry!” I held out my hand.
She grabbed it, letting me help her up.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Supporting Elrine, I led her into the hall just in time to see Roan running his golden sword through the last guard. I swallowed hard at the sight of the bodies on the floor.
“Roan!” I called. He turned, his eyes burning, but the moment he saw Elrine leaning against me, his face softened. He rushed over to us, and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Elrine,” he said, his voice full of compassion I had never heard in it before. “Are you well?”
For some insane reason that I couldn’t begin to explain, I actually felt a flicker of jealousy. But I quickly shoved the stupid thought away.
Fear shimmered in Elrine’s eyes as she glanced down the hall. “I want to get out of here.”
“Hang on,” I whispered. I crossed to one of the bleeding guards—a black-haired man, his skull cracked open—and pulled a dagger from his belt. It felt good to have a real weapon on me again. “I’m ready.”
We began walking back the way we came. Roan kept his body close to mine, trying to mask my fear. But as we rounded a corner, my heart leapt into my throat.
The torturer stood in the middle of the tunnel, and torchlight flickered over her ivory skin. Her face was like a bucket of ice cold water poure
d over my heart. She was beautiful, her features perfect—apart from the empty voids where her eyes should be. Her serene smile sent a shudder snaking up my spine.
Roan gently laid Elrine against the wall, freeing both his arms. “Watch her.”
Then, as fast and silent as a tiger, he lunged forward, slamming into the torturer with his entire body.
She wobbled, then straightened, the serene smile still plastered on her face. She grabbed Roan by the arm, her long fingers enveloping his enormous forearm.
Roan’s jaw dropped, and his body went rigid, fingers twitching. His eyelids fluttered.
My stomach flipped. She was hurting him, and I couldn’t stand by and just watch.
Leaving Elrine behind, I ran toward the torturer, heart thrumming in panic as I glanced at Roan’s face. His eyes were wide in pain, just from her grip. As I reached her, I thrust my dagger into her arm, encountering no resistance.
The torturer didn’t even flinch. Calmly, she turned to face me. I tried to pull the dagger from her arm, but the damn thing was stuck. She unclenched her fingers from Roan’s arm. Then, in a blur of movement, she clutched my shoulder.
And my body exploded with agony.
It was as if someone were burning me from the inside and outside. My skin roasted, my organs simmered, and my teeth disintegrated in my mouth. The pain was so intense, I couldn’t move or scream. I shook, paralyzed with shock, my mind begging for death.
And then the torturer threw me aside like a sack of potatoes. I smashed against the floor, unable to move, gasping for breath, every muscle clenched tight. The pain had stopped, but the memory still ripped my mind apart, a phantom that felt like it would never leave. My entire body shook. On my hands and knees, I gagged, hurling up the water I’d drunk earlier. I wiped my hand across the back of my mouth, trying to regain control.
I looked down at my skin, half expecting to find it seared, and I blinked when I saw it was apparently unblemished. My tongue ran over my teeth, surprised to find them intact. Warmth spread through my pants, and I realized I’d pissed myself.
It had been pure pain, an attack on my mind, not my body. She’d touched me no longer than half a second, but it had felt like an eternity. Roan had been in the torturer’s grasp for almost twenty seconds, and he now lay slumped on the floor.
Blearily, I watched the torturer walk over to Roan’s body and step on his throat. She pressed a long foot into his neck.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Further down the hall, two of the guards Roan had attacked limped toward us, gripping spears. One of them pointed his spear at Elrine, the other approaching Roan.
Still trembling with shock, I forced myself to get up. The torturer and the two guards stood between me and Roan. I was unarmed, my dagger still in the torturer’s arm. She hadn’t even bothered pulling it out.
My blood roared in my ears, and I turned to run.
Chapter 25
Survival instincts kicked in, and I ran. My heart pounded, a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead as I sprinted for the stairs. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to get the fuck away from this hellhole.
My lungs burned as I ran up the seemingly endless stairs. I could just feel that woman at my back, ready to grip me with her spindly fingers again, the pain unimaginable.
Roan was still in her clutches.
I gritted my teeth. He was strong. I’d seen him fight, and my reflection magic would be useless against her. My breath burned in my lungs.
He saved my life. Twice.
I shoved the thoughts into my mental vault, but my thoughts clawed at their cages like wild beasts. I had to get out of this place before it drove me mad.
I could see the door to the warden’s room at the top of the stairs. I thought of the warden’s mirror. From there, I could get to the mirror in the fields outside. Maybe I could manage to find Roan’s friends, and come back for help with actual backup. There was no way I could help Roan by myself.
I locked that vault tighter, trying to calm myself.
At the warden’s door, I took a deep breath and opened it. Only four steps to the mirror. Exhaling, I reached for it…
“Hello.”
The voice froze me in place, but it seemed to calm me as well, dousing the fire of my mind with a cool stream of water. Glacial floes of ice encased my mind, and all I knew was that this was the voice of someone I wanted to please. I turned, my gaze landing on the warden. He sat up in bed, his chest bare, his smile gleaming, dark eyes open wide.
“I heard we have visitors.” He pushed his lank black hair from his eyes. “But I would never have guessed they’d be so lovely.”
Among all this hostility, here was a man who could help me. I smiled. I needed him. He might be the warden, but clearly he was one of the good guys. He could tell his torturer to release Roan. I depended on this man.
“Hi.” I smiled. “I’m Cassandra. You can call me Cass.” Only Scarlett called me Cass, but the warden was a friend, too. A good friend. He could call me whatever he liked.
He stood, wearing only a tight pair of leather pants, and walked over to me, his movements lazy and relaxed. I felt my heart flutter. I hoped I was interesting enough to catch his attention. And I definitely hoped he wouldn’t notice that I’d pissed myself.
“Tell me about yourself, Cass,” he purred.
I really wanted to make him like me. “Well… I’m from the United States, from the FBI…” His eyes were clearly losing interest, and I was desperate to get his attention back. “I’m from the BAU; we profile serial killers. That’s how I got here. There’s a serial killer in London, and I was helping the police catch him. I’m one of the best profilers in the FBI. Oh! And I’m also a pixie—” I shouldn’t have said that! They all hated pixies here. Now he’d hate me. “I wish I could be a pure fae, like you.”
“There’s no shame in what you are.” He stepped closer, caressing my cheek. “I happen to love pixies. We’ll have a lot of fun, you and I.”
I beamed at him. He was the sweetest, most wonderful man I had ever met. Had I really been angry with men recently? I’m so happy Roan—
—Roan!
I touched the warden’s chest. I thought he would like that. “My friend, Roan, is down below, with the torturer. They’re hurting him. You can stop them, right?”
“Of course I can. I’m sure it was a terrible mistake. I’ll tell them to let him go in a moment.” He rubbed his thumb down my cheek. “Tell me, why did you come here?”
“Roan wanted to rescue Elrine,” I explained. “She’s innocent.”
He nodded, his eyes full of sorrow. He understood how innocents could get hurt.
“And Roan promised me he’d take me to a portal if I help him. A portal back to London.”
“I know such a portal,” the warden said. “Not far from here, to the east. I could take you there later. As long as you make me happy, little pixie. You will make me happy, won’t you?”
“No need to take me anywhere,” I said hurriedly. “I can stay here with you, if that’s okay. I can be really useful. I have FBI training. I can be a guard.”
“What a marvelous idea!”
I exhaled, relieved. “So you’ll let them go? Roan and Elrine, I mean.”
“Of course, in a moment. Sit on the bed, dear.”
I hurried to his bed, thrilled that he’d let me sit on it.
“Okay,” I said. “But can you please tell them to stop hurting Roan? Because the torturer is with him and—”
His eyes widened, mesmerizing me. “You want to please me, don’t you? First, let’s have fun. I’m sure Roan is fine. Take off your jacket. You’re so beautiful, and I want to see your body.”
“Sure!” I began unbuttoning the jacket, aware that I wore nothing under it. “But Roan—”
He laughed. “You keep talking about this… Roan. Surely I’m more interesting than he is.”
My jacket fell open, and he caressed my neck, his fingers trailing over the top of
my breast.
“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met!”
“Did you ever meet anyone like me?”
“No, never…” A memory from the past trickled through. A person, similar to the warden. In the human world. “I did hear about someone who’s a lot like you.”
“Like me?”
“Well… not as wonderful. But you have some similarities.”
“How interesting! Who is he?”
“His name is Charles.”
“Charles? What a boring name.”
“Yeah,” I agreed fervently. “It’s a really stupid name. Manson. Charles Manson.”
The name triggered other memories in my head, and my own thoughts began to breach the surface. Of Manson’s followers, doing anything he told them, inspired by his charisma, enthusiasm, and strange eyes. The FBI agents who’d interviewed him, desperate for his approval.
And then there were the savage murders Manson’s cult had committed. The warden wasn’t like that, of course. He was wonderful. He was…
A monster. A voice in my mind screamed, trying to break free from his magic.
My gaze flicked to the mirror in the warden’s room, my mind suddenly shrieking under the ice.
“What is it, dear?” the warden asked.
I stared at him. “It’s just that, there’s… something wrong with your face.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “My face? What are you talking about?”
“Look!” I pointed at the mirror.
He turned and looked at the mirror, his reflection gazing back at him—with gaping, bloody holes where his eyes should have been.
A reflection I had created.
His horror fully shattered his hold on me, cold reality filling my mind again. I leaped to my feet, slinging one arm around his neck in a chokehold and clamping my other hand over his mouth.
“From now on, I think you should really shut up.” I tightened my grip on him. He struggled against my hold, but he wasn’t as strong as the other fae. With his voice muffled, he couldn’t charm me. Slowly, his grip on my arm became weaker, until finally, he slumped in my hold.
Agent of Enchantment (Dark Fae FBI Book 1) Page 19