by HD Smith
The door to Cinnamon’s chambers flew open. A half-dressed Jessie, sporting several fresh bites, hurried through. Cinnamon walked in a minute later, looking relaxed and freshly primped. Her shredded little black dress was replaced with a different one, equally as gorgeous on her lithe and toned body.
She circled my hanging form a few times, before sitting on her throne. She couldn’t sense me in this forced disembodied state—no one could. It was similar to a situation that happened last spring when Mab marked me. I’d passed out while outside my body, which resulted in my presence being somewhat disconnected from my physical form—at least in the ability for others to detect me. Mab and Cinnamon were always able to sense me, but not when my physical body was in an unconscious state.
Cinnamon glanced at her watch as her brothers filed into the room, taking their places behind her.
Was this all they did? Stand around at her beck and call?
Sage glanced at my body. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was concerned. Sorrel’s lips were pressed into a hard line as he eyed his brothers. The truth about Gwen had made him angry, which was good, because that told me my persuasion had worked and now I was one step closer to getting them all focused on freedom, which would hopefully result in my escape as well.
Mace’s jaw seemed permanently clenched, and the knuckles of his right hand were raw and bloody. I’d left him upstairs sleeping, but that must not have lasted long. Out of curiosity I blinked up to his room, which was basically destroyed. Good, that had worked too. Now maybe he’d quit trying to work against the others and help find a way out of this hell.
“What was that brother?” Cinnamon said, as I returned to the ballroom.
“How is Claire holding the spell?” Sage asked.
She shrugged.
“I couldn’t hold it for that long,” Sage added, “and neither could any of you. Claire has power. She was given to us as a gift. She can save us.”
Mace snorted. “She hates us, she would die before helping us.”
“Cinnamon’s already killed her,” Sorrel reminded them.
“I can stop the effects,” Cinnamon said, then added, “if I want.”
I knew it. She had to have a way to stop it.
Mace laughed. “You are too kind, sister.”
A few fine hairs rippled across Cinnamon’s otherwise normal cheek. Mace stopped laughing.
“We have no idea what Mab did with our blood,” Cinnamon snarled. “We can’t exactly send Claire off on a quest to Mab’s castle to look for it.”
“Another sample is stored at the museum,” Sage said.
Cinnamon laughed this time. “Are you really that stupid? Only one of the royals may enter the Great Museum. Do you think Claire can persuade our Father to fetch our blood for her? Even if we could convince Claire to beg Father, he will not help us. It’s forbidden. He renounced his claim when he left us with Mab. Perhaps Harry then—oh wait, no...Harry would never even consider breaking the damn rules, and Mab—in case you have forgotten—put us here. So how, dear brother, will Claire get the blood?”
Yes, a way out. “I’ll use my blood,” I said with persuasion to Sage.
Unfortunately his interpretation of that suggestion was a bit off. “She could use the blood from one of the marks,” Sage countered.
Fine white hairs rippled over Cinnamon’s face again as if her frayed patience was starting to show. “If it were that easy, they’d never mark anyone with their blood.”
“No,” I yelled, getting frustrated. “I can use my blood.” I tried to persuade again, but it wasn’t working—my strength was waning. I staggered back as a flare of white energy pulsed over my body, and a surge of power flowed around me then dimmed.
“Something’s happening with Claire,” Sorrel said.
I need to wake up. I couldn’t stay like this, trapped in my own power. I wouldn’t be able to hold it forever, and I wasn’t sure what would happen if it ran out before I opened my eyes.
I stood in front of my body. I had to get back in.
I tried to step forward, but the white wisps of energy lashed out at my presence.
Another flare of energy erupted around me, reminding me of the power I’d felt at my core when Cinnamon had bitten me. It exploded out of me—sending Cinnamon flying and shattering all the chandeliers. Suddenly, I realized exactly what had happened. It had been Ronin’s command that made this possible. He’d ordered me not to let them kill me, which was exactly what I’d needed to access the power trapped within, but now I needed to pull the power back in.
I tried tightening my stomach muscles, which was basically impossible when I couldn’t feel my body. I concentrated on my physical form, trying to reconnect with it.
The quads were on their feet now, circling me. One would step forward, causing the energy around me to flare. I watched as my chest rose and fell, each pulse of expended energy causing my breaths to slow. “Back up,” I yelled as another whip of energy lashed out toward Sage. He stepped back, but remained close.
“Did you hear that?” Sage asked.
Cinnamon nodded. Mace crossed his arms over his chest.
Sorrel said, “Yes.”
“She’s here, but I don’t sense her,” Cinnamon said. “Come out, Claire, we want to play.”
I didn’t respond.
“That was an order, my pet,” she cooed.
“Dream on,” I snapped.
She laughed, forming a ball of orange energy in her hand. “Step back brothers. I have an idea.”
“Fuck.” She was going to attack me. My eyes shot open, pulling me back into my body. I took an involuntary gasp as my muscles seized from the strain of holding the spell for so long. I ached as if I’d been pummeled repeatedly. The bite oozed with heat, and my arms screamed with pain.
Cinnamon chuckled, dropping the energy she’d formed. Smiling, she said, “Self-preservation. Such a good skill to have.”
“She was in my room earlier,” Mace announced.
“Is that what happened to your hand, brother?” Cinnamon said in mocked sincerity.
Mace clenched his fist, ignoring her snide remark. “Let’s just say she helped me see something that I’d missed. May I reward her, sister? I promise it won’t hurt.”
I was so weak I sagged in the chains. “No,” I pleaded.
“By all means, brother, reward her.” Cinnamon returned to her throne and motioned for the twins to follow.
Mace twisted his hands through my hair, pulling my face to his. He crushed his lips to mine. I gasped when he squeezed one of my breasts. He slipped his tongue between my open lips, forcing his way into my mouth. Panting, I tried to pull away, but he leaned in, devouring me, groping my body, kissing me like I was the last woman in Purgatory.
“Stop,” I breathed out, trying to catch my breath. “Please.”
After another tumultuous—humiliating—minute he stopped, resting his forehead against mine. “I’ve missed you all these months, Claire.”
“Fuck you—”
“Shhh,” he breathed, his tone ragged and breathless. He drew in a long breath over my neck—the unbitten side. “You smell so good, Claire.”
“Don’t.”
He laughed. “I didn’t get my reward last time. You stole it from me.” He nuzzled my ear, then pulled the lobe into his mouth. He sucked for a minute, then bit down hard enough for me to cry out.
“I should have let the spelled mirror keep you,” I said. “Showing you the truth was a waste.”
He licked my earlobe back into his mouth, tugging on it gently. He kneaded my breast, and tried to push his knee between my legs. My long skirt—part of the outfit Mary had provided after my bath—was in the way. Without a second thought, he ripped it off me.
His hand went to my hip, caressing the oh-so-lovely full cut white cotton underwear I’d been given. He looked down, then chuckled. “Granny panties, Claire?”
“Prison issue.”
I tried to keep my legs closed. He pushed the
m apart with his knee.
“You begged me once. Do you remember?”
“I was drugged,” I countered, cringing at the memory of the day I bound myself to him with drugged Pagan Cake. I’d practically thrown myself at him, promising to do anything.
“You willingly took my treats,” he cooed, nuzzling against my neck. His hand snaked around my nape, squeezing hard. “Who owns you now, Claire?”
“Not you.”
He pulled away, eyes narrowed. “I don’t like losing what’s mine.”
“I was never yours.”
He pulled hard on my hair. His mouth stifled my scream. I tried to pull away, but my energy was nil.
“Cinnamon,” I forced out between gasps. “I can get your blood. Get him the fuck off me and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Mace growled, then yelped as he was jerked away by an unseen force and tossed into the nearest wall.
“You were saying, Claire?” Cinnamon asked, as she morphed into the hare.
Chapter 14
Cinnamon stood in front of me, arms crossed, in all her scary rabbit’s head glory.
“I assume you’re up to speed on what is needed?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, trying not to wince at the pain every time I moved a muscle. “Could you maybe lose the head?” It was starting to freak me out.
She laughed, sharp teeth glistening. “I find the Easter Hare makes everyone more cooperative.”
Easter Hare—East Hareington, not Harrington. “Holy shit, are you the Easter Bunny?”
Cinnamon growled.
Don’t piss off the snarling beast. “I have blood like the big three.” I said, distracting her.
“Mace,” she called.
Mace, who was back on his feet, snarled, “Truth.”
“How?” Cinnamon asked.
“I have the blood of Jayne—Mab’s twin.”
“Truth,” Mace said. “At least, she believes it, but I have never heard of this twin.”
This was the tricky part. I remembered how Mace reacted when Mab spoke of the Fourth Realm. They grew up thinking it was a fairytale, so they weren’t going to jump on the bandwagon easily. “You did hear of it once,” I said, “but you were made to forget. Mab’s twin was the ruler of the Fourth Realm.”
Cinnamon snickered. “The mythical fourth realm. How cute.”
“Says the Easter Bunny,” I countered.
Her nose twitched, which was in no way attractive.
“Look, I’m drained, I’m tired, and you’ll kill me if I stay here. I can’t make you believe me, but I’m telling you the truth. You want to know why they favor me?” I looked at Cinnamon. “Or what’s so special about my blood?” I looked at Mace. “Here it is. There’s a prophecy. They think I’m the girl that will set right what was lost by the Ancients. My blood is the same as Jayne’s—ask Death if you don’t believe me.”
I wasn’t about to go into the specifics of the different prophecies. Mace would see the truth and adding details would only complicate matters. They just needed to know I had Jayne’s blood.
The boys looked at each other. Mace nodded, as if confirming I was speaking the truth.
“I have blood like the big three. If their blood will get them into the Great Museum, then so will mine. Believe me or let me die and be stuck here forever.”
Cinnamon shook off the rabbit’s head, eyeing me for a long moment.
“Have her locked below stairs in the servants’ quarters. Have them feed her the soup and let her rest. I must consider this bargain carefully.”
~#~
I had a raging thirst when I woke. The water from the bathroom faucet was freezing cold. My teeth chattered as I gulped down handfuls of icy refreshment. I was dehydrated and hot and cold all at the same time. I expected to see a pale ghost staring back at me in the mirror, but instead my face was flush.
The water felt like ice and Cinnamon’s bite pulsed with heat. Was it infected? I pulled back my shirt collar.
The bite had been cleaned, but left un-bandaged. The wound was an ugly red mass of chewed flesh. Pulsing, swollen black veins under my skin looked as though they’d risen to the surface. The darkest one traveled toward my heart.
Poison.
I heard the snick of a door closing from the bedroom. My stomach growled as I saw the tray of food on the dresser. Another bowl of rabbit stew—which was such an odd choice for Cinnamon to serve—steamed with warmth and made my mouth water. I felt better after eating, but I could still feel the thrum of venom in my system.
The room, the same one I’d slept in earlier, had been cleaned. It was no longer stale and stuffy, but still lacked any personality. A bed, dresser, wardrobe, and nightstand were the only things present. I checked the wardrobe and found the clothes I’d arrived in, glad they’d been cleaned and returned.
I took a cold bath—everything felt cool to my fevered skin—and dressed in my own clothes. With nothing else to do, I sank onto the hard bed and tried to ignore the bite. My power reserves were still low, but I was refreshed enough by the sleep to slip outside my body.
The bluish glow of the bite covered my entire neck. There was a vein of white snaking through the torn flesh, which I had to assume was the poisonous venom.
I left the bedroom and blinked to the second floor. Sage had been missing before, and I was curious what he might be talking to. Although I didn’t expect he’d need an intervention, at least not like Mace and Sorrel. Sage was the one who seemed ready to do whatever it took to get the hell out of here from the start.
I squinted my eyes when I entered Sage’s room. A bright white orb hovered at eye level in front of him. The barrier over the window had the faintest ripple, as if the ball of energy had recently passed through.
“It’s important that you deliver this information and return quickly,” Sage said. “I must know if she is the gift. Cinnamon’s bite—”
The ball of light flickered, then started screeching with the loudest, ear-splitting noise I’d ever heard. I screamed as if my ears were bleeding, drawing its attention to my presence. It screeched something else before its light dimmed and it flew toward the open window. I caught a glimpse of a blue jay before it passed through the barrier and disappeared.
My ears were ringing, all sound muffled.
“Wait!” Sage yelled after the bird, but his voice sounded far away. He turned back to scan the room. Unlike Cinnamon, he’d never been able to sense my presence, but the bird must have told him I was here. “Claire!” he growled.
I opened my eyes and jumped off the bed. I looked around for something to defend myself with, but unless I was planning to pick up the nightstand I was out of luck.
“Ouch,” I said, touching my ear. A warm liquid coated my fingers—it was blood. The bird’s screech had somehow hurt me. I checked the pillow. It was smeared with a few drops of red. I flipped it over and quickly wiped the blood from my ears. “Good enough,” I muttered, checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror. For a second I considered trying to block the bathroom door, but Sage would just rip it off its hinges.
I returned to the room, feeling somewhat relieved that I could actually hear his footsteps getting louder; unfortunately that also meant he was getting closer. At least my ears weren’t permanently damaged—this time.
“Get out of here,” Sage growled from outside the room.
As the door flew open, I saw Jessie scramble to his feet and run off. Sage stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a snarl.
“I didn’t hear anything,” I said, backing up against the wall. “And I think we both want the same thing.”
He slammed the door closed and stalked over to me.
“The bird’s voice was ear-splitting to me. I only walked in at the end. I swear.”
Sage grabbed me by my arms and pressed me against the wall.
“Cinnamon won’t like you breaking her new toy,” I added.
His eyes blazed with anger. “You’re already broken.” H
e looked at the bite on my neck.
“Then why ask the bird to confirm I’m the damn gift?”
Growling, he pulled me off the wall and slammed me back against it.
“Look, we need to work together. What about the blood—”
“No one believes you. The idea that there was a fourth realm controlled by Mab’s twin is ridiculous. And that you, of all people, have her blood and could pass as one of the big three at the Great Museum? Impossible.”
“Why, because you don’t know about it? Do you really think your father told you everything—has ever told you anything? Junior was the oldest hell spawn, but he was only two thousand years old. All of this happened thousands of years before he was born. Cinnamon’s the damn Easter Bunny, and you think I’m talking about fairytales?”
Sage was hot-headed, but at the moment he was my best ally. He wanted out of this castle. The quads hated each other. Months of forced togetherness was more than any of them could stand. I had to convince him.
“Mace told you about the blacksmith, right?”
Sage nodded. “He said you almost died, but nothing more.”
“He’s lying—as if that’s a surprise. She wanted so much of my blood that it almost killed me. You have to remember that. Why would she have done that if there was nothing special about it?”
His eyes searched mine. “Why would you help us?”
I stared into his cold blue eyes and said, “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you rotted here for an eternity, but I would try to kill Mab herself if it meant leaving this place and never having to see you four again.”
One corner of his lip curled up. He almost smiled. Unfortunately that was when Cinnamon threw open the door and charged in.
Chapter 15
A sharp pain crawled up my neck as Cinnamon yanked Sage off me.
“What’s going on down here?” she asked, in a calm voice. Unfortunately the scary teeth, long ears, and dripping venom wasn’t convincing me of her concern. Jessie must have informed her of Sage’s actions.