by Shaw, Leia
“I said the same thing.” Vaguely, she registered scar tissue in a crisscross pattern running the length of his arms. Deep marks that told a tale of suffering. She tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. “Because…well,” she cleared her throat, “if the one person you loved most in this world died for you, what kind of life would it be without them?” She dared a glance at his scarred arms and she was thankful for the tattoos. Her voice felt shaky but she continued. “So you said, ‘let’s make a pact that we’ll never die.’”
He snorted.
“You were very idealistic.” It was one of the most charming things about him. “So then I suggested we make a pact that neither of us dies for the other. That if it comes to that, we both go out together.”
“That’s stupid too.”
She wanted to laugh. It was just like Maddox to blurt whatever he was thinking. “We were in love. Of course we were stupid. That’s what love does. It makes people crazy.”
With a grunt, he stood up. “Why anyone would choose that is beyond me.”
“Nobody really chooses it.” She leaned up on her elbows. “It just happens. It starts with a warm feeling in your chest. And every time that person makes you laugh or…or understands a deep part of you no one else does, that warm feeling grows. You tell yourself it’s just ‘like.’ You like this person ‘cause they get you. Then one day you realize you’re so deeply ‘in like’ that you’d do almost anything for them.” She smiled to herself. “Even promise not to die.”
Sadness crept in. She wasn’t fulfilling that promise very well. Death at the hands of Maddox Blackwell was a truly ironic and twisted fate.
Maddox sighed deeply. “Come on.” With sagging shoulders, he unlocked the door to the hallway. “Time to go back.”
I’m losing myself Cee. Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to smile.
Maddox to Felicity in a letter, October 2003
Walking the corridor toward the head Councilman’s chambers had always made Maddox feel like a child. Maybe it was the ominous look of the black door at the end of the long hallway that did it. Or that he was never sure what his father had in mind when he summoned him. Though he’d never once laid a hand on Maddox, his glare had the same effect as a beating in getting his attention. He wasn’t afraid of his father, but when it came to interacting with him it was wise to tread carefully. On some deep instinctual level, he understood that – as did most everybody else.
If Maddox failed to break Felicity, he supposed his father would. That thought sent a wave of panic through him.
Mine. A growl fought to get free.
He recoiled. His? His what? His prisoner? Fuck, he was losing it. Still, he had to keep Saith away from her. If his father knew that he’d brought the girl to his room yesterday, he’d probably have him removed from the Council – not that Maddox enjoyed being on it in the first place. It was an obligation – part of the job of running the prison and interrogation unit. Unlike his father, he cared little for politics. But it meant everything to Saith for Maddox to follow in his footsteps so, like a good son, he did what he was told.
It wasn’t as if it were a hardship. He was paid well and got to do what he most believed in – protect his people. The boy with the yellow hair invaded his thoughts, small and innocent. Was he protecting who mattered?
Shaking free from the image, he rapped on the door twice then opened it when his father answered. Saith rose from his chair behind the desk and gestured to Maddox to sit across from him.
After he obeyed, his father sat back down in his desk chair.
“You wanted to see me, sir.” Dread filled him. His father would doubtlessly ask about the interrogation and he still had no concrete information.
Always in control, Saith ignored Maddox and went back to writing whatever he’d been working on before he came in. Maddox took a moment to study his aging father. His hair was finally starting to gray. Wrinkles made grooves in his forehead and he had two frown lines on either side of his lips. Having lived in Caerwyn most of his life, his aging had slowed significantly. Caerwyn was the most valuable of treasures and the sorcerers owned it. They’d been protecting it from the filthy creatures of the Underworld for over five hundred years. The land was in high demand because it was enchanted. For the length of time a person spent in Caerwyn their lifespan increased by at least three times, they could not die from injury or disease, and any magical abilities were enhanced. It made for a very popular haven for supernaturals, but sorcerers didn’t like to share.
His father cleared his throat and kept writing. He must’ve been over two hundred and fifty years old now. They didn’t keep track of birthdays. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having celebrated one. Memories of his childhood had always been hazy – like they’d happened to someone else, not really to him. When he thought about his time before he was Inkman, it was as if someone were telling him a story. A story about a stranger. He accepted this because it wasn’t his job to question. But now… now that Felicity had planted little seeds of doubt in his head, he wondered what it meant.
“How old am I?” he blurted then kicked himself. What the fuck are you doing, Maddox?
His father finally looked up at him. If he was surprised at the sudden curiosity, he didn’t show it. “Does it matter?”
“Of course not. I was just…”
“Curious?” He arched a brow.
Maddox shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant.
“Honestly, I don’t remember the year. The month was June. I remember that because the irises were just starting to bloom when we buried your mother.” His father rarely talked about her death, and when he did it was with no more emotion than he would discuss the purchase of a toaster oven.
“Have you heard of Adfer Falls?”
Saith studied him a moment before answering. “No. But there are many places I haven’t heard of. Why?”
“It came up in conversation. I was wondering if you knew anything about it.” Why did his hands feel sweaty? He’d never lied to his father before. It felt…wrong.
Not many would’ve noticed the small shift in Saith’s position or the tightening of his lips, but Maddox knew him well enough to see the signs of displeasure. “Is there something going on that would compromise your job? Are you having a personal crisis?”
“No.” Crisis was an understatement. “Of course not.”
He gently slapped his hands on the oak table. “Good. We can’t afford any breaks in our system right now.”
“I know.” There was no perfect time for an identity crisis but right now was especially bad. Were the gods sending him a message? Was this meant to test his devotion to his vows? No Soldier of the Light betrayed their oath – unless they wanted to die. Being relatively new to the ranks, there wasn’t much room for failure. And being the top councilman’s son meant he had a lot to live up to.
Maddox wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and straightened his spine. “So what news of this new Underworld Queen?”
Saith waved a hand dismissively. “She’s a child. No older than twenty-seven or some such. Lived in the human world most of her life. She’s a nuisance, that’s all.”
“So you think she’ll surrender?”
“I know she won’t. But what experience does she have in military strategy? It’ll be an easy win. The time to strike is now.”
Despite his father’s easy dismissal of the battle ahead, something didn’t feel right. Working with the vilest of criminals had taught him one thing – never underestimate the enemy. “She took the throne from The Dark Lord. She must have some skill. We shouldn’t underestimate her.”
“Of course not. We don’t know what kind of magic she has. In fact, rumors of incredible power are spreading. But that doesn’t mean she can defend a whole realm against an army. Our army. She’s only one person, no matter how strong her magic.”
They’d just received a new group of recruits that week. They were still replacing valuable soldiers lost from the last ti
me they’d attacked the Underworld. It had been before Maddox was born, but sorcerers often retold the story of the bloody massacre. And every one of them vowed to get revenge – only this time they wouldn’t strike until they were fully prepared.
Maddox had little to do with that war. His war occurred inside the prison walls. Interrogations. Breaking his prisoners until they mumbled through every detail of their lives. His victims were mainly shifters from the rebellion. But there were other factions of the supernatural world at odds with the sorcerers. The Unseelie fae, for one, didn’t agree with the sorcerer’s mission to keep purity among the races. So once in a while, a witch or a fae appeared in one of the rooms to be interrogated for their part in the rebellion.
Werewolves served a purpose, though. They were expert hunters. Maddox knew his father hired them as mercenaries. Though the hypocrisy clashed with what he’d been taught – that vampires and werewolves were the spawn of Satan that the gods wanted destroyed – it wasn’t his job to think. It was his job to do what he was told. But lately, all he could do was think.
Shifters and sorcerers made up the new batch of soldiers. Years ago they’d insisted on a draft within the shifter colonies. The sorcerers had sheltered them for too long on their land without demanding payment in return. When they’d refused to provide young men for the army, his father formed a recruitment squad and took them by force. That’s when the rebellion had begun.
For such a small group, they were pretty damn effective. Or maybe they weren’t as small as Felicity had said that first day. She’d already proven herself a liar, and a good one. Maddox was one of the best at detecting lies. No need for fancy technological equipment. But she’d slipped past him anyway.
She’d always been a good liar – used to cheat at cards too.
He backpedaled. Now how in the hell did he know that? She must’ve said it when she’d been in his room last night. Yes, she’d talked a lot about their childhood.
Normally, he’d have punished a prisoner for even trying to lie to him. What he should’ve done – what his father no doubt expected him to do – was beat her to teach her a lesson. Pain did amazing things to a person. He’d used it himself to get people to talk.
A vision of a young man, tied down, screaming as a lash fell and bit deep into his skin over and over again flashed in his mind.
His ears rang and sweat started on his forehead. What the fuck?
He gave his head a shake. Where the hell had that come from? Must’ve been a session he’d watched a long time ago. As far as torture tactics went, he found the whip distasteful. He preferred mind games and starvation. And when it came time for pain, burns from a sorcerer’s Bolt was enough to get most men babbling anything he wanted to know.
“Has anyone spoken with this new queen?” he asked. “Or attempted to send a message? Maybe she’s different than the Dark Lord. Maybe she’s not interested in Caerwyn and will keep the Underworld as what it’s mean to be – a prison for criminals.”
War came at a cost – this one especially because it’d dragged on for so many centuries. Lives lost. Money. Land that could be of use wasted and burned. Sometimes famine. Shouldn’t it be avoided if possible? It didn’t seem like anyone on the Council had an interest in diplomacy.
His father shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if she wants Caerwyn or not. This is a preventative measure. How long will this girl last as queen? We’re not only protecting our land, but our way of life. The way the world should be. It’s time to lock the Underworld away for good.”
There was a way to do that? “How?”
His father looked at him and smirked. “Make a deal with a dragon.”
Dragon? Before he could question his father, the phone rang.
“Captain Blackwell,” he answered.
As his father listened to the person on the phone, Maddox thought about dragons. They were not to be fucked with. Did Saith really know what he was doing? He didn’t often question him but… dragons?
The phone landed hard in the receiver and his father pursed his lips. “Seems your girl is causing trouble.”
His heart fluttered at the words “your girl.” Yeah, he liked the sound of that. Too much. But trouble? “Where is she?” He rose from his chair, then realized how eager he sounded.
Control yourself, Maddox.
“Third floor, block four.”
He nodded to his father, left the room and headed straight for the stairwell. As he went, he forced calm thoughts into his mind to keep back the rising panic. Were they hurting her? Why should he be panicking? Why did he care what happened to her?
Distance. Fucking control yourself!
With a deep breath, Inkman settled into place and he felt a sense of calm and order. Then it fell apart as soon as he stepped into cell block four.
Chaos and bodies. It was all he could take in at first. Guards shouting and grabbing at something. Grunts and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. He marched down the hallway where the scene unfolded in the narrow space.
Brown feathers flashed over the guard’s heads for a moment then disappeared again. A bird’s wing? A feminine scream echoed in the hall and he ran toward it. His heart pounded as he shoved men aside.
Grant – one of his best guards – had the left side of Felicity’s body pinned to the stone wall while two men wrestled to get the rest of her controlled. Now he understood their struggle. The other half of her body was shifting between some kind of large cat to some kind of large bird. Every time they’d get a firm grip on her, she’d shift and they’d lose it. Two guards already had big scratch marks shredded through their uniforms and one’s face was bloodied.
“Get another arm band,” he barked at one of the guards he’d pushed out of the way. “Now!”
With a nod, he ran off. Grant punched Felicity in the face and she screamed again. Blood trailed down her mouth and dripped onto the floor.
The world stopped. Sounds fell away. His focus landed on Grant and all he could see was himself beating him to a bloody pulp.
He fisted his hands at his sides before he acted on the impulse. He’d never felt so out of control, so violent.
“Let her go,” he managed to grit out between his teeth.
Grant gave him a confused look. “What, sir?”
“Maddox.” His father’s sharp voice from down the hall bit into the haze of rage. “Stand down.”
He glared at Grant as he panted desperate breaths. Anger clawed at his chest. His muscles felt so tense they ached. He needed to hurt something.
“Maddox.” Saith’s voice was closer now, more commanding.
He gave his head a shake. The fog started to lift. He inhaled a deep breath.
A guard ran by. “I have the arm band!”
They wrestled Felicity to the ground. Grant kicked his boot into her ribs and she screamed.
“Maddi!”
Images flickered through his mind. Thunder in the distance. Lightning flashes the only light in a dark place. Horror. A man throwing his head back and screaming. Pain. Blood and sweat. Fear that there’d be no end to it.
He squeezed his eyes shut but it only made it worse.
A hand landed on his shoulder and the images disappeared.
“Maddox.” A familiar voice. “They have this under control.”
Yes. Of course they did. They were soldiers of the light. Ordained by the gods. He breathed in deeply through his nose then opened his eyes.
A body, small and vulnerable, lay unconscious on the ground. His first instinct was to turn away but he stopped himself.
Look at it. Look at it and feel nothing.
Dark hair fanned over the dirty ground. Full lips stained with blood. Lips he’d kissed. Lips that tasted sweet like honey.
Feel nothing.
Her left arm was human now and they snapped the band on the upper part. That would keep her from shifting again.
His father tugged on his shoulder. “Come on. Grant will handle her.”
It took all of his po
wer to walk away, leaving her in the hands of Grant – a sadistic guard that Maddox had trained. Now he regretted training him so well. Each step down the hallway, away from the helpless girl, felt like walking through quicksand.
Saith ushered him into Maddox’s office then shut the door behind them. Numbness finally took hold of him and he released a relieved breath.
“Everything okay, son?” his father asked.
When he called him son, it was usually for a more personal conversation. Like a hint that he cared for him. It didn’t fill his hollowness though.
“Yes, sir. Everything is fine.” It was hard to tell if his father believed the lie. Maddox wouldn’t have. Would he ask why she’d called him Maddi? Should he tell his father that she thought she knew him? Or that he was beginning to believe her?
“Your mother would be proud of you,” he said. “You’ve done a great deal for our cause. We’re so close to accomplishing everything we’ve worked so hard for. And there’ll be a big reward for you at the end of all this.”
At the end? As if this war would ever end. No. There’d always be Marwolaeth Du. There would always be pain and suffering. It was their way. In that, they were no better than humans. No, they were far worse.
Normally, he’d have eaten up any talk about his mother, but this time it felt fake – a false promise and a false hope to keep Maddox from snapping. Maybe he needed it.
He felt awkward standing in the middle of his office, facing his father, trying to hold back signs of the clusterfuck he’d ended up in. Couldn’t he fucking leave him alone for once?
“Honor your mother’s mission, Maddox,” he finally said.
He nodded.
His eyes hardened and he stepped in close. “Break this girl,” he whispered eerily. “There’s more to her than we think. She’s the only prisoner I’d ever seen that could shift with the band on. Take every last secret from her. I don’t care how, just do it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” he choked out.
Saith gave him a pat on the shoulder then left the office. He stood in the same spot, feeling lost and wondering if he should just get wasted at the local pub and pass out.