Dark Deceit

by Lauren Dawes

  ‘Don’t touch my face,’ he warned. The blonde drew her arm away, cradling it to her chest protectively. When he looked back into her turquoise and navy eyes, she’d placed her seductress smile back on.

  ‘Are you new here?’ she asked in a honeyed drawl.

  He smiled, showing her his teeth. Her pupils dilated in response. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Kara,’ she breathed, her cheeks flushing, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

  ‘Well Kara,’ he lowered his voice, dipping his head until it was next to her ear, ‘Get back to work so I can get back to mine.’

  Kara tottered off like she was suddenly drug affected, weaving around the floor until one of the guys at a banquet table grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto his lap. Korvain was the first to react, his lope eating up the ground to get to the struggling pair.

  ‘—off me!’ Kara shrieked, her hands pushing at the human who had his fingers climbing up under her skirt. Kara was straining to get away; her delicate neck muscles were cording, straining against the man’s hold on her body.

  On her neck, there was a patch of scar tissue about an inch wide and two inches long just under her ear. He had half a second to wonder what it could mean when Adrian arrived to back him up.

  ‘Get the girl out of here,’ he growled, already reaching for the man and hauling him out from behind the banquet table. His legs flailed and kicked, thrashing against Korvain’s hold. Korvain pushed him up against one wall, scattering a group of men in his wake.

  With his knee, Korvain separated the male’s legs, pinning his arms out to the side and keeping pressure on the back of his neck with his forearm. Korvain’s free hand skimmed down one side of his body then the other, searching for any concealed weapons.

  There was a small bulge in his jacket pocket when Korvain gave the same once over on the front. Dipping his index and middle finger inside, he pulled out a couple of packets and inspected the small white pills.

  ‘What have we here?’ he asked the human. The male was sweating now, trickles of the stuff tracking his temples, running down the side of his face.

  Korvain glanced up, looking directly into the camera above them. Jerking his chin toward the exit, he looked back at the human. Flipping him onto his stomach again, Korvain twisted the human’s arm around until he screamed.

  With a tight grip on the arm behind his back, Korvain sunk his fingers into the back of the male’s neck and frogmarched him out of the club.

  Bryn was waiting for them on the landing. She gave him a cursory once over before saying, ‘This way.’ She pushed open a concealed door opposite the stairs.

  Inside, the room was sterile and cold. The walls were black painted bricks. A metal slab of a table was in the middle of the floor, a matching metal chair behind it. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling. Korvain forced the man down into the chair, holding him in position with his heavy palms on his shoulders.

  Bryn stood on the opposite side of the table, just outside of the reach of the light, throwing shadows over her face and shoulders. Even though the human couldn’t see her eyes, her stare was hard. The POS fidgeted; more sweat breaking out on his brow, down his back and under his arms.

  ‘I hope you have an explanation,’ she said in a cold voice. The male shivered under Korvain’s palms, but kept up with the silent routine.

  ‘She asked you a question,’ he growled softly. The man jumped when he heard Korvain’s voice, whimpering pathetically. Korvain’s fingers dug in, warning him not to move an inch.

  Bryn stepped away from the shadows and approached the table. Reaching inside the human’s jacket breast pocket, she pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, she studied his photo, her blue eyes flickering to him.

  ‘Alex Jones,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘What are you doing selling drugs in my establishment?’

  ‘I want my lawyer,’ he stammered. ‘I’m not saying anything until I’ve spoken to my lawyer.’

  Bryn laughed. The sound was as cold as the look in her eyes. ‘We’re not the cops, so I can tell you right now that’s not going to fly. I’ll give you one more chance though. Tell me why you’re selling drugs in my establishment.’

  Alex glared at her, saying nothing.

  ‘Fine. I’ll get the cops involved. Is that what you want?’

  The silent act continued.

  Bryn shrugged and slid a phone from her pocket. ‘Have it your way.’

  Korvain stood there, restraining the man, watching the Valkyrie work. A few minutes later, she hung up, pegging Alex with a hard stare. ‘Cops will be here in a few.’ She glanced at Korvain. ‘I can take it from here. I need you back in Level Three.’

  Even though his instincts were screaming at him to stay, Korvain nodded and slid out of the room. He wasn’t going anywhere while that POS was in the room with her. Setting his back against the wall, he waited until the cops arrived ten minutes later before returning to work.

  Chapter Five

  This morning at breakfast, Father barely looked at me. When Mother’s back was turned, he told me I could not come to see him down at the docks after work anymore.

  *

  He could feel his body wasting away, but was powerless to stop it. He was immortal, not invincible. Flesh burned and healed. Blood ebbed and flowed. Breath rose and fell. And still he was bound to the boulders.

  Pain.

  Hunger.

  Thirst.

  He felt it in the tiny pinpricks on his skin, in the spasms of his decaying organs.

  His lids cracked, opening slowly to look upon the only other living thing sharing his torment and misery. Ruby-red eyes stared down on him. As always, its maw gaped, its fangs bared. He knew every single detail of its body.

  Venom welled slowly, dripping down one of its fangs. It hung there—trembling—before finally dropping.

  He didn’t scream, merely winced as the drop of poison rolled from his chest, tracking down his ribs and sliding onto the stone at his back. It took only a second before the smoldering wreck of his body melted, consuming the last of his strength. A moan escaped his lips, a moan that signalled his defeat, his surrender.

  Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he didn’t even have the strength to buck against the bonds anymore. He just rolled over and took it, figuratively speaking. He was wallowing in his pain when he heard it.

  Straining his ears, he listened. He could have sworn he’d heard a voice. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but he reacted all the same. He managed to lift his head, eyes rolling around sloppily in their sockets before exhaustion crashed over his body.

  Are you a penitent man? A voice asked. It was smooth—silky like a well-polished piece of silver.

  He tried to swallow moisture down into his dry throat, his tongue rasping against the roof of his mouth. Such thirst he felt. Such hunger, too, but he tried not to think about that.

  Well, are you?

  ‘Who are you?’ he managed to croak. Was that actually what his voice sounded like?

  Salvation the voice whispered; the word echoing a hundred times over until his ears rang.

  His tongue made another pass over his lips. ‘Where are you?’ He waited for the response, hung onto it like it was a life raft and he was drowning at sea. This was the first contact he’d had in...he paused. Squeezed his eyes shut once more.

  He remembered speaking to the bodies of his wife and son for a while, but they never spoke back. He remembered cursing them for getting killed, begging them for forgiveness, screaming at them to help him. Eventually he stopped when the flesh fell from their bones in fetid puddles that filled the cave’s belly with a stench that made his eyes water.

  They’d never answered him before.

  But this voice had.

  Maybe this was real...Maybe...

  ‘Hello?’ he called. Desperation stabbed at him as he was met with silence. ‘Hello? Hello?’

  He waited. He heard breathing. Rapid breathing. They were close, whoever they were
. He strained his eyes, searching the darkness. ‘Whoever you are, help me!’ he yelled, his voice cut up and bleeding like he’d swallowed glass shards.

  He waited for their response, peering past the shadows. The breathing sounded like it was closer. Yes! It was closer. He held his breath to hear them more clearly, to pin-point where they were.

  What he heard was...

  Silence.

  Deafening silence crashed over him.

  He wailed at the ceiling. The breathing had been his own. Horror seeped into his bones. He was losing his grip on reality, losing his sanity. Immortality was the cage keeping his body alive and functioning, but his mind was up for grabs.

  His eyes rose to the ceiling above him. The serpent—his jailer in this prison of torture—had not moved an inch since it had been placed there. Venom dropped from one fang, and the cycle started all over again.

  I have watched you wither. I have watched you writhe. I have watched you beg for your release. Yet you have not asked for forgiveness, the voice whispered once more. The silky quality to the voice made him think it could be a woman. His skin was smoking, slowly being eaten away. Soon the poison would be in his blood, his heart betraying his body by pumping it all around under his skin.

  ‘Why should I ask for forgiveness?’ he wailed, staring at the stalactite covered ceiling. ‘What do I have to be sorry for?’

  Do you forget the reason you are here? the voice asked, growing impatient.

  ‘No,’ he ground out. ‘I have not forgotten. Nor will I forget who put me here.’

  And what would you do if you were free?

  He smiled for the first time since his imprisonment. He’d thought of nothing else. ‘I would kill him.’

  A satisfied purr travelled through his head. Would you now? A rumbling chuckle reverberated around the room. And how would you do it?

  That secret was one of the things that hadn’t left his mind. He moistened his lips with another swipe of his tongue. ‘I know a way.’

  And would you use that knowledge? the voice purred.

  ‘Yes,’ he croaked.

  Yes? Do you swear to it?

  He barked a harsh laugh. ‘This is fruitless. I am not free.’

  If you were free?

  It was only a dream. ‘Yes,’ he whispered.

  His answer echoed around him, slowly disappearing and plunging the cavern into silence once more. He soaked in the silence, the conversation he’d just had playing through his mind. This wasn’t real. This conversation. This deal. None of it was real. He slumped back, sinking into the dark oblivion of his misery.

  Then you are free the voice eventually replied.

  Confusion and doubt began to creep through his rotting mind. What game was being played here? What trick? The silence continued on around him, the doubt spreading. He was not free. He was—

  The bonds that held him in place suddenly slackened against his skin. They were...gone. He could breathe again; move his arms and his legs again. He wanted to get up, but feared what would happen. His body was nothing more than bones kept inside his skin.

  Be sure to keep your end of the deal, Trickster.

  He started by rotating his wrists and ankles first, letting the feeling come back to him. Next his knees and elbows, then he sat up and the world swam in front of his eyes.

  Hunger burned his stomach. Food. He needed food.

  Perhaps it is time to punish the serpent for the role it played in your captivity. Consume its flesh and learn how the world has changed around you that seductive voice said; nudging him in the direction he’d already been heading in.

  When he felt he could, he swung his legs off the platform and placed his feet onto the cold, rocky ground. Slowly and unsteadily, he made it to his feet, clinging to the rock walls for support until he made it to the bones and rags that had been his son.

  Lifting the rags, he took the blade attached to the leather belt his son had once worn and stood. He was shaking from hunger, from insanity, from disbelief. He eyed the serpent hanging from the ceiling, hearing the hiss of warning—ignoring it.

  Climbing clumsily onto the platform, he licked his lips. One cut through its head was all that was needed. His body shook violently now, and he only had one choice: strike now or go hungry.

  Blood flowed down his hand, his arm; dripping off his elbow from where his knife severed the spinal column of the snake. It was cold and it was liquid. He thrust his mouth under the flow, drinking his fill of that cool blood then pulled the body free from the rock.

  Taking it to the cave’s floor, he peeled the skin off with weak fingers and feasted on the flesh still writhing between his teeth. He ate until he passed out, his eyes closing, his stomach full, his mouth moist with blood. His head was now filled with knowledge about this new world he was a part of. He had only one thought as he let sleep drag him under.

  He was free.

  Chapter Six

  Bryn sat back in her chair and let out a deep breath. The cops had just left discreetly from the back door, the human trying to sell Ex on her turf cuffed. Outside the interrogation room, Korvain had been waiting, watching the door like a loyal guard dog.

  His presence had shaken her up more than she wanted to admit. She didn’t know how else to explain it other than there was an animalistic rawness to him that made him both seductive and dangerous to her. The images she’d experienced when they’d first met had left her with a need she had never experienced before. She didn’t understand what they meant, only that she knew she wanted him.

  A quick glance up at the clock above the door told her it was only just after midnight. There were at least another three hours of night left for the humans to throw their money away on booze and women.

  Rubbing the itch from her eyes, Bryn looked over at one of the dual screens she had set up on her desk. The CCTV cameras streamed through it, flickering from wide angle shots to close ups on each level every few seconds.

  Every floor was packed, the people crammed in until the only way they could move would be to rub themselves up against one another. Her eyes darted to the shots of her bouncers. Each of them were exactly where she needed them to be.

  Bryn’s eyes finally settled on the image of Korvain up on Level Three. He was bigger than Adrian—wider, too. The room was heaving with people, but around Korvain there was a large perimeter surrounding him, like people were afraid to get any closer than a few feet. She wasn’t surprised though. She could practically see the menace rolling off his body in large, thick waves.

  His dark eyes flickered upwards, looking directly at the camera above his head. A blast of heat hit Bryn’s body; her skin tightening, her muscles trembling. A gasp escaped her lips and she looked away.

  ‘Get a fucking grip, Bryn,’ she chastised herself softly. She looked back at the screen, finding Korvain had gone back to watching the crowd with hooded eyes. She was losing her mind, the sleep deprivation finally catching up with her. She looked at the mountain of paperwork she needed to attend to and heaved a heavy sigh.

  Picking up the first invoice, Bryn got to work. When she finally lifted her tired eyes again, it was three in the morning. The music had stopped and a quick glance at the surveillance cameras confirmed Raven and Level Three had been cleared of patrons.

  She was stretching out her back, yawning, when there was a knock on the office door.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Mist opened the door holding a fabric bag in her hand. ‘We’re done.’

  ‘How’d we do?’

  ‘The bar took about ten large. I don’t know about the other two levels. Someone’s going to bring the take down soon.’ Mist slid the reproduction copy of William. T. Maud’s The Ride of the Valkyries off the wall and opened the safe with a few expert flicks of her wrist. After placing the money in with another three bags, she replaced the picture.

  Mist leaned on the wall, her arms crossed loosely over her stomach. ‘Are you going to be much longer?’

  Bryn looked down at the pile of p
aperwork. She’d hardly made a dent in it at all. ‘I’ll get as much done as I can before the others come down with the take.’

  Mist nodded and slipped from the room silently. It was another ten minutes before there was another knock. Glancing at the camera placed outside her office door, she saw it was Korvain.

  ‘Come in,’ she called, hating how her heart was already beating like a snare against her ribs. The handle depressed and Korvain filled the doorway. His shoulders barely fit in against the jamb, his head almost touching the top. He looked down on her, his black eyes glinting.

  Bryn could taste her pulse on the back of her tongue, and she pressed herself into the back of her chair. She let go of a shaky breath, hiding her discomfort by crossing her arms over her chest.

  ‘I’m busy,’ she snapped.

  ‘I can see that,’ he murmured in response. Her eyes flickered up, noticing his were hooded and raking over her body. He licked his lips, drawing her eyes down to his mouth, and she couldn’t stop them there.

  She took in all of him: his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Her eyes lingered on his waist, his hips. His legs were thick with muscle. She could see that clearly even through the fabric of his pants.

  Korvain cleared his throat, forcing Bryn’s eyes back onto the paperwork in front of her. ‘You told me to come and see you after my shift.’

  Fuck it. ‘Yeah. I did. I owe you for helping out tonight.’ Pulling open a desk drawer, she found a small locked tin and placed it on the desk. Reaching into another drawer, she took the key and slid it into the lock. Bryn started counting out the green, placing three hundreds onto the desk.

  She slid the money across the wooden surface, pulling back when Korvain’s fingers touched hers, lingering there for a second longer than what was socially acceptable.

  ‘Thanks,’ he murmured, holding her gaze hungrily.

  Bryn couldn’t stop the shiver tracking down her spine. ‘You did a good job tonight. If I ever need help again, I’ll give you a call.’

  When he didn’t respond, Bryn focused back on her paperwork with a frown. ‘I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to do,’ she said tersely, gesturing at the offending paperwork in case he needed visual aids.