They had tried the same crap on Marek and he had fallen for it, although he doubted they wanted him to fight on their team. They had grander plans for him.
Ones he wasn’t going to stick around to find out about.
He kept rubbing, until his shoulder was raw and burned from it rather than the symbol they had carved on him.
It had to be a ward.
The wraith had taken Esher’s memories through a fragment of his soul he had stolen with his blade, the same blade he had used on Marek to knock him out. Which meant he also had some of Marek’s memories now.
And he knew a whole host of wards that could easily be implemented even by a daemon.
He thanked the gods that when they had created new wards around the Tokyo mansion that they had chosen to do it all away from each other, and that he only knew the ward he had made. Breaking one ward wouldn’t allow the enemy to penetrate the barrier around the mansion, which meant it was still a safe place for his brothers and their women.
Marek leaned to his right and tried to peer over his shoulder at the ward carved into his flesh. All he could see was blood. He couldn’t tell whether he had managed to make it deep enough yet to disrupt the power of the ward.
His healing ability wasn’t helping him.
Whenever he thought he was making progress, that ability kicked in, undoing his work.
The daemons could have been kind enough to lock that one down too.
He looked around the room again, a futile endeavour since it was empty and he had checked every crevice of it for something he could use to either pry open his bonds or carve a damned hole in the ward.
The green walls were growing more red by the hour, and patches of dried blood now decorated the wooden floor, dark against the polished oak.
But he was getting nowhere.
The only way to get rid of this ward and get his powers back was to destroy it, and that meant getting his hands free and on a blade or something sharp.
The door opened, throwing light across him, and the illusionist slinked into the room, her long black dress flowing around her feet to conceal them. She halted in front of him, but he kept his eyes on the open door, on the freedom it taunted him with, a glimpse of a cream corridor and a side table that had an elegant crystal vase on it.
“It will not work.” Her honey-sweet voice dripped in his ears as she leaned towards him, dragging his focus to her. Her breasts threatened to spill from the low vee of her dress.
He curled a lip at her.
She sighed and looked to her right when he glanced there, at the door.
“No escape that way.” She eased down in front of him, her silver eyes swirling as her black lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. “How infuriating it must be to have your powers bound.”
She pouted, pulling a face of mock pity that tore a growl from him.
Because it hit him that this was payback.
He and his brothers had put her in Esher’s cage when they had caught her. The enchantments on it stole the powers of those contained within it, rendering them weak. Esher used it when the full moon hit a lunar perigee, the point in the year when it was closest to the Earth. Daimon had to lock him in the cage because what he became was dangerous, a beast more savage than anyone could imagine, thirsty for violence and controlled by a need to shed human blood and watch them suffer.
The cage kept Esher and the world safe from that savage, dangerous side of him.
This daemon had been given a taste of the cage, and now she wanted him to experience what she had.
Or perhaps it was the wraith who wanted him to suffer as she had, a gift to her that evidently pleased her as she observed Marek and he couldn’t hide how much this was annoying him, how much he despised being without his powers, left at the mercy of his enemy.
“The female did well to bring you to us.” The woman canted her head, causing her glossy straight dark violet hair to fall away from her shoulder. “We should reward her. Perhaps we should complete our end of the bargain and take care of her brother’s problem.”
Caterina had been telling the truth about the vampire being her brother then, and about her reason for doing what she had done to Marek. It didn’t make him feel any better. It only made him feel worse, because it confirmed that she had betrayed him. She had chosen to save her brother by condemning him.
He bared his short fangs at the daemon as they emerged, as he felt the darkness pouring into his veins turning his eyes black. The illusionist’s eyes narrowed as her smile widened.
“A reaction at last.” She leaned closer. “He will be pleased. It seems the little female got to you just as he suspected. He was right to bring her into the fold. We had thought you would be the difficult one. It was disappointingly easy to capture you.”
Marek spat in her face.
She flinched, her face twisting in disgust as she brought her hand up and delicately wiped the spit away.
She looked at her hand.
Struck him hard across his right cheek with it and sent him falling onto his side. His head spun, vision twirling, and he rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the blow before she got any ideas about following up with another one.
“Weak creature.” She snarled and pushed to her feet to tower over him. Her silver eyes glowed as she glared down at him. “We will break you. By the time we are done with you, you will be on your knees telling us everything we want to know.”
She swept from the room, slammed the door, and he closed his eyes as the sound of metal scraping against metal filled his ears. He listened to her as she stormed away from him and it stoked the fire inside him, refusing to give in as she wanted.
She wouldn’t break him.
He was going to get free of this place, and this damned ward, and then he was going to destroy them.
His vision wavered out of focus.
But first, he was just going to rest his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was on his back, his hands numb beneath him. He groaned and rolled onto his side, onto his front, and shoved his face against the floorboards to push himself up. He shuffled his knees beneath him and grimaced as he sat up. Every muscle on his torso protested and cramped in response, but he managed it.
His stomach growled.
His parched throat screamed for water.
Marek looked at the boarded windows. How long had he been out?
He tried to look at his shoulder but he could only see the start of the mark carved on it.
It was fully healed again.
“Damn it,” he barked and wriggled backwards, towards the wall.
The cold fire that had burned inside him since the night he had been taken blazed colder still as he remembered everything the daemon had said about Caterina and his darker side latched onto it.
She had betrayed him.
She was going to pay for that.
No one betrayed him and got away with it.
The need for retribution mingled and entwined with the darkness and he gave in to it as he started rubbing against the wall, harder this time, the hunger for vengeance a driving force within him, filling his head with pleasing images.
He would start with Caterina, knew she was in this building somewhere. He would get rid of this ward, break free of his bonds, and he would find her. Once she had paid for what she had done to him, he would regain his strength and bring hell down on this house and its occupants.
The thought that he had been weak again taunted him, giving the darkness a stronger grip on him. He sank into it, relished it as it gave him strength, a purpose. He wouldn’t be weak again.
He had let her past the barriers again, when he should have kept them slammed shut against her. He shouldn’t have tried to find her. He shouldn’t have cared that she might be turning into a daemon. He should have called it quits long before he had realised her brother was a vampire.
He shouldn’t have let his ridiculous feelings for her blind him.
She was a daemon. Maybe not in
body, not yet, but she had proven herself just as vicious and vile as their kind, willing to lure someone to their death.
The darkness inside him writhed, hungry to be fed, for the carnage his mind was swift to imagine as he kept scrubbing his shoulder against the wall.
Rapid footsteps sounded on the other side of the wall to his left.
Followed by something hitting it hard.
He stilled right down to his breathing and reached for his powers. A curse pealed from his lips when they didn’t come and he listened to the heartbeat rushing in his ears.
Not his own.
It belonged to whoever was on the other side of the wall.
Metal scuffed, the doorknob jiggled, and another attempt was made, the sound of the metal scraping against each other grating in his ears.
A burst of light.
He flinched away from it and glared at the silhouetted figure in the doorway.
The petite shadow blurred as it moved, refusing to come into focus as adrenaline pushed his already fatigued body right to its limit.
Was it the illusionist come to break him?
He feared he might do just that as she entered the room, coming towards him.
He frowned and amended that.
Stumbling towards him?
That frown deepened when his damned vision finally cleared and he could make out the woman who hit the floor just a few feet from him, collapsing in a heap.
Caterina.
She recovered swiftly, throwing a panicked look over her shoulder.
“Drop the act,” he growled, not wanting to play this game anymore. He looked at the doorway. “Come out, I know you’re just trying to fuck with me. I know you’re there.”
No one appeared in the doorway.
It was a struggle to get his senses functioning properly, but when he managed it, he found only two signatures in the immediate vicinity.
Caterina.
And him.
“Have to be quick.” Caterina’s voice was low, hoarse, and weak.
She crawled towards him.
“Get away from me.” He reared back, kicked at her with his left leg and caught her right arm.
She went down hard even though he had barely touched her, face-planting on the floor. She lay there a moment, her breaths uneven, fast in his ears.
Finally, she moved, pressing her palms to the oak boards and wobbling as she pushed herself up.
“Trying to help.” She pushed each word out with an evident struggle as she wavered on her hands and knees. “Don’t have long. They don’t leave for long.”
“Who doesn’t leave for long?” Marek told himself not to fall for this. It was another ploy, a lie constructed to weaken him again, to make him trust the daemon crawling towards him.
He would never trust her again.
“The daemons,” she whispered and whimpered as she stopped, as she hung her head and clutched her stomach, banding one arm around it.
His stupid heart jerked in his chest, panic flooding him as he waited to see if she was going to pass out.
She was sick. Her hair was damp, hanging in tendrils around her face as she lifted it, revealing a sweat dotted brow and dull eyes.
“Be quick.”
He wasn’t sure she was talking to him now as she inched forwards. She muttered things beneath her breath, Catalan words that sounded a lot like a prayer. Her breath sawed from her lips, each one cutting him despite how fiercely he tried to remain immune to her.
When she finally reached him, she gritted her teeth and eased up on her knees. He tensed when she reached behind her and pulled a knife from the waist of her navy jeans. It fell from her fingers as she cried out and doubled over, clutching herself again.
Another prayer fell from her lips.
Marek stared at the knife on the floor.
“You here to kill me?” He kept still, conserving his strength in case he needed it.
He was in no state to fight, not with his strength and powers bound, and his hands tied behind his back, but Caterina wasn’t in any state to fight either. He could almost feel her weakness as she held herself, as hoarse sobs burst from her lips and she shuddered.
When whatever terrible pain that wracked her had passed, she inched her hand towards the blade, using her fingers to drag it towards the hilt. They shook as she pulled it towards her, and her grip was limp as she finally closed her hand around it.
“Turn.” She breathed hard, struggled into an upright position again and looked at his waist.
“So you can stab me in the back again?”
Tears glistened on her cheeks as her brow furrowed. “Trying to… free… you. Maybe… pick… lock.”
Is that what she had done with the door? She hadn’t been picking the lock then. No. She must have used the knife and her limited strength to break it open, draining herself in the process.
“Forget the bonds.” He hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.
It wasn’t trusting her again. He kept telling himself that as he shuffled so his back was to her, trying to make it easier on her. He was using her this time.
Not just to get free either.
She had been a guest in this house and would be able to give him information on it, and on her hosts. Or should he say her allies?
“See that mark on my back? Slice through it.”
“What?”
He found it hard to believe that horror in her voice was genuine.
“You already stabbed me in the back once. Just do it again.” He didn’t miss the way she glared at him and he didn’t repent either. She deserved everything she got from him as far as he was concerned.
Her throat worked on a hard swallow as she stared at his back.
She was going to bottle out.
“Do it. Do it or I’ll hunt your fucking brother down and slaughter him,” he snarled, his voice darker than he had ever heard it.
She gasped.
He let it bounce off his back, because he was done being nice to her. She had burned that bridge between them before he could get there and do it for her.
“I’ll help,” she murmured weakly. “Don’t hurt… Guillem.”
“I bet that’s what you said to them too.” He couldn’t keep the venom from his voice as the cold fire in his heart turned white-hot with an emotion he didn’t want to contemplate.
He wasn’t jealous of the lengths she would go to for her brother, revealing how deeply she loved the vermin.
He wasn’t.
He grunted when she suddenly stabbed him in the back, hard enough to jerk him forwards, and gritted his teeth as she drew the blade down, slicing right through the heart of the mark carved on his shoulder.
“You… deserve… that,” she spat and then something thudded on the floor.
The knife?
He looked over his shoulder as heat spread through him, bringing strength in its wake, and the power of the ward dissipated.
Caterina lay on her side, out cold, her damp caramel hair spilling across the floorboards and the hilt of the knife balanced on her open palm.
He felt nothing as he looked at her.
He closed his eyes and turned away. He felt nothing.
His heart called him a liar.
Marek waited for more of his strength to return and then focused it all on his arms, on his wrists as he pulled them apart. The chain linking his bonds snapped, the sudden release of his arms flinging him forwards. He slammed a hand into the floor to stop himself from hitting it and slowly looked back at Caterina.
He felt nothing.
Telling himself that didn’t do shit as he moved onto his knees and went to her, as he canted his head and looked down at her, studying every dark hollow on her pale face.
Even out cold she was breathing too rapidly and shaking.
Had the daemons done something else to her?
He gathered her into his arms and stumbled onto his feet, and paused as he looked at the door. She had said the daemons didn’t stay away for long.
If he waited, he could deal with them now.
He looked down at Caterina. She was burning up, her trembling growing worse as he held her tucked against his bare chest. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to help her, but gods, he wanted to try.
Setting himself up for another fall?
Probably, but he just couldn’t convince himself to hate her, to hold her responsible for what had happened to him. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that she had known what would happen that night in Barcelona when he had found her with her brother.
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, a name he more than deserved, and one that was far nicer than the ones his brothers were going to use when they discovered what he had done.
He reasoned that he was in no fit state to battle two strong daemons on their own turf and that the best warrior armed himself with knowledge first, and then steel.
Caterina was a vital weapon in this war, one he intended to use to its fullest. She would tell him everything.
And if she refused?
He would let his brothers handle her.
He turned away and stepped with her, reappearing in a dark-wood-clad vestibule. He leaned back as his strength wavered, the grey stone arch that surrounded one of the leaded windows cool against his burning shoulder.
He needed to get Caterina to the basement, but teleporting again would be a mistake. He couldn’t afford to pass out, not before he had her contained anyway.
Marek slowly crossed the vestibule of the castle, his body warming as the heat of day met it and he passed the shafts of sunlight that washed into the room from the row of arched windows to his left. He passed a corridor and kept going, took a right near a shadowy section of the hallway and headed that way, towards stone steps that led downwards.
He carefully picked his way down the spiral staircase, doing his best not to damage Caterina as she slumbered in his arms. The light and heat of day gave way to chilling darkness, an echo of where he had spent the last gods knew how many days.
He tried not to let it affect him as he banked right again at the bottom of the steps. The cold flagstones chilled the bare soles of his feet as he carried Caterina to the first cell in a row of three, opened the solid iron door and took her inside.
He set her down on the cot that had seen better days and hesitated as he looked down at her.
Marek: Guardians of Hades Series Book 4 Page 19