Ian lets the moment drag out, coiling the whip again, extending it slowly, and then--
Crack!
My whole body jerks. That was closer!
Lazily, he draws the whip up once more. It dangles from his hand as he strides toward me. I can’t help but contrast the grace of his movements with the ugliness of his actions. My breath is coming in short, shallow pants as he leans closer so that only I can hear.
“Two more, each closer. It’s okay to look scared but whatever you do, don’t move or I could hurt you.” The raw horror in his eyes leaves no doubt how he feels about any such possibility. Huskily, he adds, “On the third, be ready to do as I tell you.”
Numbly, I nod. My gaze flits to Davos. His smile chills me. He must be taking my silent agreement for proof of my submissiveness. I long for a chance to show him otherwise. My own capacity for violence surprises me.
Even with all my resolve, I only just manage not to flinch as the whip lashes out again. I feel the ripple in the air as it goes past me mere inches from my exposed breast. The second comes even closer. I’m not hurt in any way but some part of my brain doesn’t get that. It’s screaming at me to run.
“Are you sufficiently warmed up now?” Davos calls out. His voice is taunting, his intent to goad.
Ian merely shrugs. “I think so.”
“Good, make the next one count. I want to see blood.”
Ian’s mouth tightens. He holds the whip for a moment, the long, sinuous tongue coiled and waiting. I can’t look away from it or from him. The blood Davos is so eager for feels frozen in my veins. I marvel that the man can’t see what is plain in Ian’s eyes. The deadly rage, the fierce will, the merciless intent.
Several things happen all at once. Ian’s arm moves in a gesture that is both controlled and graceful. For an instant, I see him engaged in a particularly savage and lethal dance. Moving within it, he pivots away from me and takes several steps forward The whip releases, the lash slashes through the air…
…and curls unerringly around Davos’ throat, a tentacle swiftly grabbing hold of him and squeezing hard. He bolts to his feet, grasping the leather with both hands and tries to scream but his air is already being cut off.
Turning to me, Ian speaks with calm urgency. “To your left, there’s a door behind a wooden screen. Take it, go down the hall. You’ll see steps that lead to a tunnel. If Hollis doesn’t have men there already, he will soon. They’ll get you to safety.”
Distantly, I’m aware that the Lords of Misrule are lumbering to their feet, shouting at one another and the servants. But all I can really see is Davos, slowly strangling, and Ian who shows no sign of leaving with me.
“What about you?” I demand. Dread fills me. He’s big, he’s powerful, and he’s highly trained. But he’s only one man and aside from his own body, the only weapon he has is already in use choking the life out of Davos.
Ian stares at me as though I’ve taken leave of my senses. “For God’s sake, Amelia, stop talking and go!”
“Not without you!”
The fury he turns on me should make me quake but I’m way past that. I refuse to so much as blink.
“I mean it, Ian! We go together or I stay right here. You decide but--” I glance at the men who are moving toward us. They’re naked or nearly so, drunk or high or both, and frankly disgusting. But in the collective, they’re also dangerous. “Do it fast!” I implore.
His curses blister the air. With a final yank on the whip, he sends Davos crashing to his knees. Ian drops the hilt and grabs me. His hand grips my arm almost to the point of pain but I scarcely feel it. Relief courses through me in the instant before the harsh reality of our situation crashes down. Some of the men and servants have stopped to help Davos. Several are trying frantically to unwind the whip that is cutting deep into his throat. But others are coming after us.
Ian yanks open the door behind the wooden screen and thrusts me through it. He pulls the screen behind us and jams it under the knob, baring the way if only temporarily.
“Go!” he orders and grabs my hand. Together, we run down a hallway lined with old, empty offices and the smell of abandonment until we reach the staircase at the far end. The steps are metal that rattles under our feet. Below I see darkness lit by flickers of light from ventilation shafts.
When we reach the bottom, my heart is pounding. I only just manage to gasp, “Where are we?”
“Under what used to be the old stacks,” Ian says. He keeps my hand gripped in his as we move quickly down the tunnel.
Before we’ve gone very far, the air turns chill and damp. I can’t help shivering, especially as I realize how he must know about this escape route. The thought of him as a young teen, trapped in the hell of his father’s making and desperately seeking a way out, makes me tremble even more.
Ian stops at once and strips off his jacket. Instead of laying it over my shoulders, he insists that I put it on. I comply quickly, aware that precious seconds are passing.
As we start moving again, he blurts, “You are the most maddening human being I have ever encountered.” The words sound forced from him, as though the thought behind them can no longer be contained. He’s exasperated, a man at a loss how to handle a situation he didn’t create or ask for.
I’m not sure that he expects a response but I give him one anyway. “You’ve got that backwards.” A tremor of dread goes through me as I struggle not to think about what could have happened to him. “What was your plan, stay and let them beat you to a pulp or worse while I escaped? That’s insane.”
He throws me an as-if look. “I can take care of myself, which is more than I can say for you.” A dark shadow moves behind his eyes. Softly, he says, “You’re too damn vulnerable.”
His voice catches and I know what he’s thinking. My face flames at the reminder of how wantonly I respond to him. But hard on that comes a healthy wave of anger. I am far from the helpless creature he’s making me out to be. It’s time we both acknowledge that.
“I am? What about you?” Before he can answer, I rush on. “You knew that I wasn’t a safe person for you to be with. But you came back to me at the Crystal Palace and afterward you opened up and let me in more and more deeply. You can’t help yourself even though you’d much rather be with Susannah.”
Ian stops again, suddenly. His expression is starkly bewildered. “What are you talking about?” he demands.
The mere thought of saying her name feels like a knife stabbing through me. I have to remind myself that even though Susannah set all this in motion, she isn’t to blame for how it’s playing out. Ian and I are each responsible for our own actions but I am, most particularly. In a sense, I was made for him, designed to appeal to his deepest, darkest desires. Far from making me helpless, that’s given me power over him. Even as he holds fast to the memory of Susannah, he’s been unable to deny me except, sadly enough, in his dreams.
Faintly, I say, “At the hotel, you were asleep. I think you were having a nightmare. At least you sounded upset.”
His scowl is filled with apprehension, “What did I say?”
“You called out to her…pleading with her not to leave you.” My voice breaks. Without thinking, I try to wrest my hand from his. But Ian won’t let me go. On the contrary, he tightens his grip.
Staring at me intently, he asks, “I called out to Susannah?”
Numbly, I nod. I can’t look at him anymore. If I do, I will break.
“That’s why you left?” He sounds incredulous.
“Of course it is.” How can he be so oblivious as to think that I could have stayed under such circumstances? Perhaps I need to spell it out for him. Though my throat is clogged with tears, I manage to say, “I’m not her. I can’t be the woman you want in your heart. Realizing that was…devastating.”
Silence drags out between us. As we begin walking again, I entertain the sudden wish that we could leave the truth behind in the darkness as though it doesn’t exist. But what happened in the hotel suite can�
�t be undone and I shouldn’t want it to be. Honesty is all I have left. Whether I can make a life on that harsh foundation remains to be seen.
The tunnel seems to stretch on endlessly. I start to wonder if there is any way out. Just when I think he isn’t going to respond at all, Ian sighs deeply, the sound of a man letting down a vast burden. Far more gently than before, he asks, “You didn’t leave because of what I did to you?”
My heart tightens. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. What is so difficult for him to understand? If only I had left for that reason but I am who I am. To deny myself would be the ultimate betrayal, vastly worse than anything Ian or anyone else could ever do to me.
“I could have left at any time. Obviously, I didn’t want to.” I have to force myself to breathe before I can continue. “Face it, Ian, I’m nothing like Susannah.”
More silence until I think I truly can’t bear it. The ground slopes downward, leading us further into a dark underworld. The world above--of carefully crafted beauty, contrived gaiety, and rampant cruelty--seems far away. But there is still enough light from the ventilation shafts for me to see that our surroundings have changed. The remains of a structure older even than the library are rising around us.
In a bid to distract myself, I ask, “Where are we?”
“Under the foundation of the library,” he says absently. “It was built on top of an old reservoir fed by an aqueduct. Two hundred years ago, clean water from here made the difference between life and death for people in this city.”
As he speaks, I glimpse a darkly rippling river nearby. In my heightened emotional state, I imagine that it could be the Styx, the ancient boundary between the world of the living and Hades. The sight makes me stiffen as my own memories of the gestation chamber stir.
Softly, Ian says, “I don’t remember dreaming about Susannah, much less calling out to her. But there’s only one reason why I would have--”
He breaks off suddenly, his attention drawn by a flicker of movement in the shadows. In an instant, I am thrust behind him, protected by the big, hard bulk of his body.
“Ian--?”
After a moment, he relaxes. “It’s all right. It’s just scavengers.”
Peering over his shoulder, I see several women and girls crouched on the other side of the water with pails and buckets. They stare back at us for an instant before abruptly fleeing into the darkness.
Watching them go, a sense of shock and guilt washes over me. My own burdens are forgotten, if only temporarily. “No one should have to live like that,” I say.
“You’re right,” Ian replies. “No one should.”
I wait for him to tell me again that, notwithstanding how bad life is for the scavengers, the chaos that would follow social upheaval would be worse. But instead, he says, “Davos and the others have to be stopped.” His tone is icily calm. He sounds like a man who has come to an irrevocable decision. A shiver of apprehension moves through me.
“Why say that now when you wouldn’t before?” When he doesn’t answer, I shake my head vehemently. “Tell me that it’s not because of what he wants to do to me.” The thought that I could be the catalyst that unleashes the violence and chaos that Ian has feared is unbearable.
“That was always more than enough reason,” Ian says. “I should have realized it from the beginning.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers in a gesture that is at once gentle and apologetic. Holding my gaze, he says, “Amelia, the only reason I would have called out to Susannah is because when I was with her, I didn’t have to deal with my true nature. I could just shove it down and pretend it didn’t exist. I can’t do that with you. I tried, God knows, but I kept failing. All I want is to keep you safe and happy. But then Davos came along with his damn smart drug and--
Drug? Before I can ask him what he means, Ian’s mouth thins. Harshly, he says, “He’ll stop at nothing. Neither will the men who support him. Unless someone stops them, they’ll destroy everything that is still good and hopeful and decent in this world. I can’t let that happen.”
I’m all too aware that he would have killed Davos already if I hadn’t intervened. But I can’t regret what I did, not when it means that Ian is standing right here in front of me, safe and whole. That he is also speaking words I can scarcely dare to believe stuns me.
“I want to understand,” I say, “truly I do. But you were dreaming of her even after all we--” My voice breaks. I can’t go on.
To my astonishment, I realize that he’s blushing. Quietly, he says, “If she was in my mind, it wasn’t despite what happened between us. It was because of it. I was terrified that I’d driven you too far and that you’d never forgive me for what I did.”
My cheeks are as warm as his own. I have to force myself to look at him. “You didn’t notice…how I responded to you? I thought the issue of whether or not I possess free will was settled not long after we met.” Rather memorably, I would think, but perhaps he’s forgotten.
“It was,” he says. But in the next breath, his conviction wavers. “I think so…I hope…”
I grasp his face between my hands. Embarrassment, modesty, and every other hindrance to truth falls away. I can’t let him go on having any doubt about this. “No, Ian, you know. I choose you. I have from the very beginning but that doesn’t make it any less of a choice.”
He wants to believe me, I can tell. But still he hesitates. So low that I can hardly hear him, he says, “You cried. I saw you. And even that didn’t stop me.” His gaze is filled with guilt that I cannot bear for him to carry a moment longer.
“I was thinking of Susannah,” I admit. “Of how gently you treated her, like spun glass, you said. I thought of how she brought out the noblest and best aspects of your nature while I--”
I can’t go on but I don’t have to. Ian cups my chin in his hand. Softly, he says, “You bring out all of me, Amelia. Not just the parts I want to admit to. I’ve been in pieces for so long that I thought there was no other way to live. Then you came along and put me back together.”
I’m crying again. I can’t help it and I don’t even try. This is how we are--messy, carnal, striving and uncertain. Human. After what I saw in the Club, the purity of our mutual desire is cleansing. The brush of my lips against his is filled with tremulous yearning. His response is instant and fierce. A groan escapes him as his mouth claims mine.
His breath is the oxygen of life. I inhale him greedily, my tongue twisting with his as we savor one another. There is desperation to this kiss. We are reaching for each other through barriers of fear and misunderstanding that have cracked but not yet dissolved. We need time…to talk, to touch, to simply be together. He feels as though he wants to be inside me and I want him there, desperately. But we are surrounded by darkness and the pressing urgency of danger.
Too quickly, he pulls back and looks down at me. His voice roughened by passion. “Don’t ever, not for a moment, believe that you are less than everything to me.”
“As you are to me,” I murmur through my tears. Unable to help myself, I cup the back of his head, my fingers tangling in the soft crispness of his hair, and draw him toward me once again. Just one more taste…one more…
Crack!
A spray of small, powdery particles explodes from the spot on the wall next to where Ian’s head was an instant before. A white gash appears in the old stone. At its center is the black scar of a bullet.
Chapter Thirty-six
Amelia
No, no, no! For a horrible moment, I think I’m going to faint. The world takes a violent lurch and I’m on the ground. Ian thrusts me into the shadows at the base of the wall.
“Stay here,” he hisses. “Don’t move.”
Terrified, I grab hold of him. “No, don’t go! Whoever’s out there was aiming at you, not me. If you move, you’ll be a target!”
“It’s Davos,” he says grimly. “Him or one of his goons. He isn’t just going away. He’ll close in and finish the job.”
“You said
Hollis was sending men into the tunnel,” I remind him desperately. “They could be here at any moment. Let them deal with him.”
For a moment, I think he’ll relent but the crack of a second shot just above us erases any such hope.
“You never fail to disappoint, Slade,” Davos shouts. The whip has transformed his voice into a high-pitched rasp but there’s no mistaking either his arrogance or his rage. “Just when I think there’s hope for you, you prove me wrong!”
“He’s bat shit crazy,” Ian mutters. “He blew up the Crystal Palace when that didn’t go his way and now this. If ever a man needed killing--”
I can’t help but think that he’s right. Davos may have been sane at some point in his life but he clearly isn’t now. But far worse, he’s drawing Ian out. Making him decide that he has to put himself in mortal danger in order to stop him. Crazy, maybe, but Davos is still a genius at manipulation.
A sudden impulse seizes me. Before I can think better of it, I call out, “He can’t hear you. He’s wounded!”
Ian stiffens and for a moment I think he’s going to make it all too clear that I’m lying. Instead, he murmurs, “What the hell are you doing?”
Before he can stop me, I wiggle out from under him and get to my knees. I’m betting that I’m too valuable to Davos for him to kill me outright. If I’m wrong--
“He’s unconscious!” I say. My anguish and fear for Ian pour out. I sound like a young woman overcome with horror, on the verge of breaking down completely. In case Davos has any doubts, I add, “I think he’s dying!”
As I speak, I clamber to my feet. The dark channel of water flows swiftly by. For the first time, I notice that it’s crossed at intervals by narrow stone spans that unexpectedly are in good repair. They must be kept that way by the scavengers. More even than Ian or Davos, they know the underground city and the secrets that it holds.
“Watch where you’re going!” Davos yells as I force myself closer to the water and deliberately stumble again. “You’ll fall in!”
Yes! Let him think that. It will force him to act.
Anew: Book Two: Hunted Page 29