by T. A. Grey
Chapter TWENTY
Something was wrong.
Something different in the castle. Unusual.
Today should have been like any other. She and Alex were to be woken up by a guard who would then lead them to do whatever today’s chores were. She could not say she harbored much excitement at the idea.
However, none of that happened.
Hours had gone by. The sun steadily rose higher in the sky. Without a window, Alex had noticed the time based on the amount of light streaming down fireplace chute.
Down below in the base of the castle--Hanna caught the sounds of feet scurrying, dozens of them--then there was the banging. Slamming doors, clang of metal smashing, the sounds of hustle; shouting from one person to the next.
Just what the hell was going on?
Hanna chomped down on the edge of her fingernail, caught a frayed end and tore it the rest of the way. The nail pulled too far and before she knew it, she tore a chunk of fresh skin off. Wincing, she sucked on her bloody fingertip.
Meanwhile, Alex sat intently listening, trying to catch bits of conversation when as it floated up through the walls.
“Justicars...”
“Hurry...”
“Now!”
Hanna hadn’t caught much more than that. If the people downstairs were trying to keep quiet then they were doing a good job of it. Either way, the stress left Hanna’s foot furiously tapping the ground until her leg shook. Alex didn’t say anything about her anxiety. Didn’t care; fortunately, too caught up in this scenario.
Then, quite suddenly, after hours of non-stop noise, the castle turned silent. As if a dial had been turned down low, the castle stilled. Eerily so.
Hanna and Alex exchanged curious glances. Everything went still. Hanna could hear her own ragged breathing, could hear the wind whipping by the top of the chimney, a howling of cold air atop the shoot that would occasionally blast them with frigid air.
Thud, thud, thud thud. Hanna’s tapping foot grew incessant. She was no longer even aware of the foot tapping, only vaguely aware its existence.
People left the castle. Hanna could hear the trucks firing up and driving away. Damn, they needed a window. Being able to see what was going on out there would help so much. But, prisoners didn’t get window seats.
Hanna stared at the door. A single, sturdy door that blocked her and Alex from the rest of the world. It was an ugly door, too. Chipped with lines scratched into parts, etched from previous prisoners trying to escape. Of course, there was no escape, because on the opposite side of that door the only thing awaiting them was death.
Hanna swallowed at the morbid thought. Her own death. Facing it rather sooner than she’d ever expected. Almost funny how life twisted things up like that--almost. Neither she nor Alex looked like they thought any of this was remotely humorous.
“What’s happening?” whispered Hanna. She flinched hearing her own voice; it sounded so loud in the stillness.
Alex slowly gave a shake of the head to shush her, his brow pinching. Then, Hanna heard it.
Someone was at the door. The distinct sound they’d both grown used to: key sliding into lock, lock turning. The door opened, their usual guard entered. He didn’t look at them, something else unusual.
“Come on.”
Hanna and Alex exchanged a glance. This was not normal. No orders, no information for the day? No explanation for what all the commotion about? And why couldn’t Hanna get this crazy notion out of her head that this all had to do with her and what happened to Remi Gerioux.
The guard waited for them impatiently in the hall. Apparently, they weren’t even going to be cuffed today.
Another guard loitered nearby. He grinned at them, his black bushy moustache overgrown across his lips. The look in his eyes said he clearly knew something they didn’t, and he liked it.
“What’s going on here?” Hanna had to take a stand and find out what was happening.
“Eh, shuddup, now. Time to go downstairs. They’re waiting for ye.”
Hanna looked to Alex; he had a worried expression on his face.
The question was--who waited for them?
Down the hall, they were dragged. Over trodden, royal carpet, down stone corridor steps to the first floor. Where was everyone else? Usually the castle bustled with activity from porters to servants to workers from the pack. It took a lot of people to run this large castle. But, today the halls were vacant. No signs of servants. No clash from the kitchen where dishes were being washed and food prepared. No sounds of wood chopping from the woodcutters out back or swishing hiss of steam from down below in the laundry room.
Nothing. Like death.
The guards didn’t lead them to the throne room. Hanna’s stomach twisted anxiously as they were led deeper and lower into the belly of the castle. Into the dark bowels where the air felt stifling, vacant. Nothing lived down here.
They arrived in a cold, stone room lit by torches along the wall and a magnificent fireplace that could easily roast a boar over it. The room was cold, not in its lack of decorative touches--there was none--no rugs, no vases, no art on the walls. The castle upstairs looked vibrant compared to this shadowy, gloomy space. This room had a secretive feel to it, as if it was rarely used. And the location was secure enough away that no one would hear the discussion about to take place.
The room had only a conference table with chairs. Several men were already seated; they were regal looking uniforms that looked imposing. Justicars. The legal enforcers of the lykaen and vampire world.
Hanna kept swallowing but the lump in her throat never went away. So badly she wanted to reach out and grab hold of Alex’s hand, but fear kept her from doing so. She didn’t want anyone to know she cared about him, or he her, they might try to use that against them.
Queen Lysette Gerioux sat at the end of the table. Something was different about her today. She wore an extravagantly rich gown made of jewels. She’d even decided to wear her royal diamond tiara perched atop her head. What worried Hanna more so than the queen’s immaculate attire was the stiff expression on her face.
One particular man was not in this room. Jo MacKellen was nowhere to be seen. He must not have received an invitation to this little party.
Her breath fogged like small clouds. Her skin chilled quickly the longer they remained. Soon she’d be shivering, and in a few minutes, she would be breaching an uncomfortable level without any protection the cold. Her jeans and t-shirt did nothing to protect her.
Hanna counted twelve men. Twelve men wearing the same uniform. Full black attire, with a black hooded cape. The only distinguishing mark upon them was a symbol J encrusted around a gold circle. Hanna knew who they were. The Justicars. The justice dealers of their universe.
Only one other man stood out distinguished from the rest. He towered beside the queen, his hand resting on the back of her chair as if he was the king. Hanna didn’t recognize him, but he appeared satisfied and pleased. The queen did not.
They’re going to kill us.
So clearly, so crisply, she had the thought that would forever change her life.
They’re going to kill me.
Hanna didn’t normally thing such drastic ideas, normally she preferred to stay passive or under the radar, but now a different feeling overtook her. A strength of will and determination.
Someone started the discussion. Hanna felt like she wasn’t even standing in the room. Her mind was elsewhere, suddenly alert on a level it’d only ever been one other time in her life--the night Remi had chased her down. Only on that night had she felt how she did now, as if an instinctual fear had taken hold of her; it held her captive in its grasp.
They are going to kill us.
Hanna and Alex, dead. These Justicars were here to mete out the justice and oversea their executions for the murder of Remi Gerioux.
She heard the man standing next to the queen state as much. His voice rang loud and clearly. He called himself Xavier Carbon. Giving his orders while Lyse
tte looked stoically onward, almost appearing emotionless to all of this, nothing at all like her usual self. Where was the emotional, boisterous, queen who’d shown nothing but chaotic energy since Hanna met her? Now she sat as if she too had just learned of her death sentence.
Xavier carried on speaking, his tone ringing.
“And so it has been deemed, with the honor and blessing of Alpha and Queen of Gerioux pack by order of Lysette Antoinette-Marie Gerioux that Alex Thompson and Hanna MacKellen shall be executed whence forth as of this motion. So it be heard by the Justicars here today and so it shall be.”
And there it was. The final draw to their end.
Hanna’s mind fought it. Not like this. She would not die like this. She’d rather fight. Even if it was the last thing she ever did.
No! The resounding protest came from deep within the root of her heart and soul, where she knew she would do anything and everything in her power to get her and Alex out of this hellhole. Or die trying.
“So it shall be,” the queen agreed.
Because Hanna wasn’t going down so easily.
* * * * *
The decree over, Alex could see that the queen’s order had shocked Hanna, but thankfully, he saw something else too. He saw renewed vigor in her mannerisms. A spry energy likely from an adrenal rush. Good, this meant she would likely reconsider his plan to escape.
First things first, they had to get out of their prison cell. Shit. He wished he had more time to create the perfect, detailed plan with all the possibilities considered to ensure the safety of Hanna.
Guards dragged Alex and Hanna back to their room. They said not a word as the guards paused at the top of the stairs to the second floor to chat up two maiden servants.
“‘Ey there gal. You make any of them sweet biscuits I like?”
As the guards chatted up the girls, Alex scooted closer to Hanna.
“Do we agree it’s time to escape then?”
Hanna gave him a panicked look. Probably because he said such a thing aloud. But no one heard them. After she realized this, she simply nodded.
Thank god. That would make at least one thing easier.
Alex needed to talk to Jo MacKellen. Where was that man? If anyone could help them now, it would be him.
Eventually the guards hurried up their conversations and led Alex and Hanna back to their room. Alex had to think on his feet. So, before the guard, closed the door, Alex turned to him and grinned. He nodded toward the retreating girls.
“Not bad, eh? You getting any of that?”
The guard looked surprised for a moment, before laughing. “Nah, not yet. I have a hard enough time tryin’ to get her to make me sweet pies, y’know?”
“I bet she’s got a sweet pie, if you know what I mean.”
The guard tossed his head back and guffawed. While he wasn’t looking, Alex shoved a small wad of linen into the door’s deadbolt. Slick enough, no one noticed.
Like a good little prisoner, Alex shuffled into the cell.
“That’s a good one! That’s a good one!” Laughing, the guard closed the door. Alex waited, listening for the distinct clang from the deadbolt.
The lock slid. Only, this time, the clang was dull and soft. His breath caught and for a moment, he feared the guard would notice and open the door again to investigate. Instead, he heard the guards start up the conversation about the girls before heading away.
Hanna was at his side in an instant. “What’d you do? I saw you do something.”
“I shoved a wad of cloth in there.”
“Why?”
“We just have to see if it’ll work.”
“If what will work? Alex, listen, we need to talk about this. We don’t have much time. They’re going to come in here and grab us and send us to execution at any minute.”
“No, I doubt it.”
“What do you mean?” Hanna sputtered. “The words said ‘whence forth’. What do you think that means?”
Alex started gathering their few meager belongings from around the room.
“What are you doing now? Packing for vacation?”
“Not exactly.”
Focus, focus. He grabbed two leftover apples, a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom, a small tube of shampoo, the travel size ones from the bathroom, and a washcloth. Everything or anything he thought they might need if they did manage to escape.
“Talk to me dammit!” she shouted in frustration.
Alex stiffened, then glanced over his shoulder to find Hanna looking very pissed off. He stood up straight. “Sorry, guess we need to discuss this.”
She sighed impatiently. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”
“I don’t know if the door idea is going to work, I got the idea about two seconds before we were gonna get shut in here. I remembered I had a wad of linen that I’d rolled into a ball in my pocket. I jammed it into the deadbolt hole so I’m hoping the door might be easier to jimmy.”
“To jimmy? What are you a lock pick?”
Alex shrugged, then wrapped all the belongings he’d gathered into a small knapsack that could be tied around his waist or shouldered to carry. If they even got that far.
“I’ve opened a few doors in my life, yeah.”
Hanna’s jaw dropped. “Now I learn about this? What other secrets are you hiding from me?”
Alex whistled under his breath. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”
“What can I do? Just talk to me. We need to get out of here, Alex. Like...now!”
Alex heard the emotion crack in her voice. Tears swam in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall even though she looked ready to combust. Cursing, Alex crossed to her and took her into his arms. She came easily. Warm and open and squeezing him so tight his breath caught.
“Sweetheart.” He rubbed her back. He wanted to say everything was gonna be okay. But he couldn’t. He had zero assurance, no guarantees. So he didn’t promise her anything. Merely told her the truth. “I’m gonna try to get us out of here.”
Hanna pulled back to look up at him. The emotion and sadness in her eyes caught him off guard. It reached straight to his heart and grabbed him by the organ squeezing cruelly. Her sadness became his.
She nodded. “Yes. Yes. Let’s get out of here, Alex. Finally.”
A surge of emotion swept through Alex, making his breath catch. In the next second, he found his eyes closing, and his mouth on Hanna’s. He kissed her. He tasted her fresh breath and the warmth of her lips. He felt her fingers cling to his arms and her lips smother eagerly against his. He became warm all over. He didn’t want it to end; he could stand there and kiss her all day. But they had certain death to escape.
Alex ended the kiss. Both were lazy to open their eyes.
“I’m going to get this door open, then we’re going to get to Broderick’s study and steal a set of keys. I don’t care if it’s for a truck or one of the snowmobiles. Then, we’re hightailing it out of here. If we find any kind of weapons along the way, knives, guns, bats, I don’t care, you pick it up and you use it when I give the OK. We’re gonna do this together, Hanna. You and me? Yeah?”
Hanna nodded and even game him a half-smile, even if part of it was sad. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Right. Alex headed for the door to test the door handle. The moment of truth. How hard would he have to work at jimmying this sturdy son of a bitch?
“Uh, hey, Alex.”
He turned to her. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Shouldn’t we wait until nightfall so we have the cover of dark to help us?”
Alex’s lip curled. “I don’t think we have that much time. They won’t end us now. They will wait until nightfall so they can gather the whole pack to witness it. It’ll be a big spectacle. Trust me. They will wait until it’s dark, so they have everyone’s attention.”
Hanna smiled. “Escape or die trying, right?” She attempted to laugh but the sound came out choked.
Alex couldn’t muster up any laughter. Because she was correct.
They would die trying, if they didn’t get this right.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
Jo MacKellen had learned long ago that you there were varying levels of shit. You could be in deep shit. Or you could be in deep shit. He was in the latter.
Something had happened after he’d taken Queen Lysette’s hand and accepted her proposal He’d do anything to save Hanna’s life if he could. So, against his better judgment, he’d accepted her sexual proposal--whatever that would mean for him.
However, she hadn’t wanted to perform that night. So, in agreement, he’d gone back to his room, worried and contemplating what might occur between them in the future.
In his room was a bottle of wine that hadn’t been there before. Here he made the fatal mistake. Stress from his sexual conversation with Lysette drew him to the bottle. It smelled potent and clean, so he tipped the bottle back and drank some to take the edge off.
The biggest, most stupid mistake of his life. One which he’d never be able to forgive himself for.
He drank poisoned wine.
Not that he realized it in that instant, only realized after feeling its negative effects. Laced with what exactly, he was unsure. Some kind of heavy sedative or tranquilizer. He’d gone out quickly. He remembered the room getting black and foggy before he crashed to the floor in a heap.
Now, Jo took stock his situation, a rather unusual one for him. He was not in his room where he should be.
Blindfolded--check.
Handcuffed with silver cuffs that burned like a son of a bitch--check.
Was rolling around in the trunk of someone’s car--yes.
He could hear the rumble of the tires and feel the motion of the car as he swayed.
Someone was stealing him.
Years of training allowed him to keep calm. Who stole him? Not likely to be the queen. Who had something to gain in removing him from the Gerioux pack, was his next question. Perhaps Xavier Carbon saw him as a threat? That was all he had.