Dark Liaison (An Ema Marx Novel Book 2)

by J. D. Brown

  I moved along the corridor and counted the number of narrow hallways extending deeper into to the castle. Five. My hands rested on my hips as I pondered which one might lead to Jesu. Was it even Jesu’s voice I was following? Only one way to find out.

  I chose the middle hallway. The space was very narrow and the ceiling was low enough that Nikolas would have to duck in order to walk through it. The lighting dimmed the farther I went. The passage ended at a wooden door fastened together with iron nails, its handle nothing more than a thick iron ring. I wrapped both hands around the large ring and pulled.

  My arms strained as the door slowly parted from its frame and inched open. Logic dictated that I shouldn’t have been able to move the door at all. Thanks to vampyre strength and a small build, I was able to squeeze through the sliver of space.

  The room was pitch black and smelled of dusty old paper, dried wood, and chalk. I waited a moment to make sure the door wouldn’t swing shut. Fortunately, it was much too heavy to move on its own. I left it open so that I could use the faint rectangle of light that filtered in from the dim hallway. It was just enough for my vampyre vision to trace the dark silhouettes of furniture. Rows of small writing desks headed the front of the long room. Behind them stood something taller; bookshelves. From what I could tell, the room was a dead end. I turned to leave when a voice made me jump. I squinted into the darkness and whispered. “Is someone there?”

  No answer came. I phased my fingers and tested the air, but the atmosphere lay still. It was probably someone in the hall, so I turned to leave again.

  “Tell us what happened next.”

  I whipped around. The voice was low, but I was certain it was Tancred who spoke. My stomach twisted in knots. What could that creep being doing sitting in the—

  “We were attacked,” said a second male voice. This one I couldn’t place. I studied the shapes in the room. Could I have missed them in the dark? I could hear them, but I couldn’t see them. Something was off. Their conversation rang clear to my sensitive ears, but my brain insisted the sound was still far away.

  They’re not in this room, I finally realized, but they’re close.

  I quickly pushed past the door and rushed down the hallway, retracing my steps to the corridor. I paused to listen. Their voices were much quieter now.

  Shoot.

  They could’ve been in any room in one of the neighboring hallways. They could also have been one level up, or one level below. This place was so huge, by the time I found them, the conversation would be over. I wanted to know who the voice was. Could it have been Stefán? Were they talking about Apollyon’s attack against the Neo-Draugrian Council? On impulse, I raced back down the center hallway and squeezed back into the dusty old room. My heart drummed against my ribcage as I listened.

  “They turned into giant cobras, Nikolas. Their bite was venomous and burned through the bodies like nothing I’d ever seen before. There was nothing left of them. Only half of us managed to escape.”

  My blood went cold. There are more like Enki?

  “How can he take out half of your Council in one night?” Nikolas demanded.

  The voice I didn’t recognize scoffed. “It is exactly as I said, we were taken by surprise. Do you think we could have known Apollyon was alive?”

  A fist slammed against a hard surface and I jumped. Of course I couldn’t be certain, but that voice had to be Stefán, and if he was here, then why didn’t anyone tell me? Shouldn’t I have been involved in this? And for that matter, had anyone told Jesu?

  I reached into the darkness until my fingertips grazed the edge of a desk. I moved around it until I found the empty line of space between the first two rows. My hands trailed from desk to desk as I moved toward the back of the room. When the desks ended, I reached out and stepped carefully until I found the bookshelves, my hands running along book spines of different lengths.

  “Do you know what he wants?” Tancred asked.

  My hands fell against a blank space of wall between the bookshelves. The wood bent easily under my touch. That’s odd. I felt all around the space. The walls thickened again near the edges of the bookshelves, but in that narrow strip of space between them, the wall was so thin I could’ve easily kicked it in. It’s hollow. I considered punching a hole in the board as the conversation carried on.

  “I suppose he wants his crown back.”

  I shook my head in answer to my own thoughts. Breaking through the wall would cause a noticeable ruckus. There had to be another way. I lowered to my knees, sliding my palms down until, sure enough, I found a vent. I gripped the frame and pulled. It rattled, but didn’t come loose. I searched blindly, feeling the corners of the frame with my fingertips for the tiny screws.

  “Stefán, is my brother… Was Jalmari…?”

  I froze at the sound of Jesu’s voice. So they had called him to join the discussion with Stefán. That’s good. Maybe they just left me out because I wasn’t a member of the Council? My breath seemed to pound like a drum compared to the tense silence as I also waited in anticipation for an answer.

  “No, Jalmari wasn’t there. No one knows where he is.”

  Jesu sighed in relief. My fingers fell away from the vent and I sat on the floor. In a strange way, I was glad that Jalmari wasn’t involved in the ambush. Losing his brother wasn’t something I wished for Jesu. His family was the definition of dysfunctional, but they were still his family.

  “Well,” said Tancred. “Your father is on the loose, half your Council is dead, and your brother is missing. I do say, mate, that puts your clan in a very vulnerable position.”

  Stefán growled and a piece of furniture skidded across the floor. “Are you threatening the Neo-Draugrian crown, Tancred? You would be wise to remember that I am next in line for the throne, and until Prince Jalmari is found, I will protect that position with my life.”

  My breath hitched. It wasn’t fair that Jesu couldn’t inherit the clan in his brother’s place.

  “Calm yourselves, both of you,” said Nikolas. “What action is taking place to confine Apollyon?”

  A bitter edge carried in Stefán’s tone. “All of our warriors are searching for him. Believe me, we want him and his creatures abolished. What he has done is a declaration of war against the Neo-Draugrians and we will not rest until his head is on a stake.”

  “Your men have not found him yet?”

  Stefán hesitated, his voice lowered. “No.”

  “Have you alerted anyone else? The locals, the R.E.D., surrounding clans?”

  “The locals would surely panic, and the R.E.D. would be more trouble than help.”

  “You know Apollyon has a talent for multiplying his army tenfold in a very short time. If your men don’t find him soon, this will go public and end badly for everyone.”

  “Might I inquire, King Nikolas, as to what your plans are?”

  There was an exhale of breath before Nikolas answered. “My men will surround the border. If Apollyon or any of his followers so much as blink in our direction, we will not hesitate to kill them.”

  “Very well. I will keep in touch with you.”

  “Tancred, show Stefán out.”

  Chair legs scratched against wooden floorboards. Two pairs of footsteps trampled across the space and then grew softer as the men left.

  That’s it? He’s going to leave it up to the few surviving Council members to take down Apollyon? I grumbled to myself while pushing to my feet. I’d better go before any of them realized I wasn’t in my room.

  Jesu’s voice filtered through the wall as an afterthought, freezing my legs in mid-stride. “Thank you, Your Highness, for not involving her.”

  Nikolas’ reply was firm. “Don’t thank me just yet.”

  Maria

  My eyes opened to pitch black. I squeezed them shut and then opened them again, hoping for a trace of light. There was none. True darkness cloaked me in a stale, senseless space. I pressed my fingers to the side of my head where I remembered being hit. I had
no idea how long I’d been laying here, unconscious all this time, but it was long enough for the blow against my skull to heal.

  A soft crackle broke the silence and I jumped. I blinked rapidly to dispel the odd darkness, but I still could not see a thing. A second pop ripped overhead and my jaw jerked at the sound. The noise only lasted a moment, like the crinkle of tinfoil or a jolt of static or…

  Oh no.

  I pushed to my feet and then held my arms out in front of me, palms up. All it took was three paces forward until my hands pressed against a flat, smooth surface and my fears were confirmed. I levitated, sliding my palms against the panel until my fingertips found the edge and then trailed over the top panel. I lowered to the floor, feeling my heart sink as well. My hands ran over the Plexiglas a second time, sweeping downward until I found the first tiny hole of the air vent. In my mind’s eye, I saw all nine holes—no bigger than the point of a pencil—arranged in a perfect three-by-three square. My palm flattened over the square, feeling the grooves in an otherwise flawless vampyre-proof design.

  An electric current zapped my palm and I jumped back. Singed skin fumed the air inside my cell and my hand tingled. I let it fall to my side, knowing it would heal quickly. A shaky breath released from my lungs and I lowered into a sit, pulling my knees to my chest.

  Despite the darkness, I knew exactly where I was. Only five jails like this existed, hidden in the furthest corners of the world, and rarely used. They weren’t even guarded. The vampyre who committed a crime brutal enough to find themselves in a jail like this was ultimately given the death sentence. They remained here, in the dark, until they starved to death—or until they committed suicide.

  All four walls, the top, and the bottom were made of two layers of bulletproof Plexiglas that sandwiched a high-voltage electric fence with an uncontained current. That’s what the crinkling tinfoil sound was. If I tried to phase through the glass, the electricity would jolt my molecules into solid form and the panels would maim my body. Whatever remained between the glass would fry to a crisp.

  I did not fear for myself. I was away from the Master. I was safe. Instead, I feared for my husband. What foolish acts of desperation would he perform to ensure that I was returned to him? Though I knew it would be fruitless, I wished that Naamah wouldn’t worry for me. He was the one who needed rescuing.

  I worried for Ema most of all. I had tried to warn Jesu through email that Enki was searching for them. I had no idea if my emails were helpful, but I had to believe they were enough.

  Helldora’s dead eyes came to the forefront of my mind. Apollyon was looking for his ring. I had no way to tell Ema or Jesu of the charm or what it meant. If only my husband… I shook my head. Naamah’s good sense would be compromised for as long as Apollyon had me locked in here. He wouldn’t dare contact Ema or Jesu now. He would follow the Master’s every word for fear that overstepping his boundaries would endanger my life.

  I sighed, wishing I had more faith in Naamah, but I just didn’t. I loved the man with all my heart, but Apollyon knew my love was Naamah’s deepest weakness. With nothing but empty darkness to comfort me, my mind drifted back over eight thousand years, when my husband was a different man.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed a raid, but it was the first time my tribe was defeated. Naamah’s tribe had conquered mine and my captor kept me as his bride. Of course, back then, a girl in my situation was lucky to be the lover of a chief, even one who was considered an enemy.

  A smile touched my lips at the memory of my brazen lover, his strength and pride, his love for his people, his easy nature. I’d grown to love him in no time at all.

  But squabbles between tribes seemed petty compared to Apollyon’s savage massacres and constant thirst for power. Being a prisoner of war led by the Master was far different. He broke my family. Naamah was a survivor, like me, but he was no longer the leader he used to be. I had pushed the memories away time and time again, not allowing myself emotion over what was now ancient history. I remained strong and solid for my husband. Men of leadership retained their strength from the fierce women they loved.

  Now, though, left alone in the darkness, the memories surfaced full-force.

  My arms and legs burned, stretched tight across a long wooden table, wrists and ankles numb where the chains held them in place. Apollyon’s greasy hair fell in loose curls over his shoulders as he bent over my naked body. I thought he was going to rape me, but my fear diminished as his touch avoided my exposed maiden parts and turned to far more sinister devices.

  I caught a glint of Apollyon’s ring through my blurred vision as I let my swollen eyes roll back to focus hard on the cracks in the stone ceiling of the dungeon. It wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed the Master’s magic. My two children had gone before me. Neither one survived. They were failed experiments of a mad scientist. Dehydrated, starved, beaten, and broken-hearted, I refused to cry out. I would sooner give in to death than let my husband hear me be weak.

  A sharp pain seared at my middle, burning into my flesh and spreading like lava in my blood. My fangs clenched in vain as I prayed for strength and patience. But the Master’s black magic tore through me, ripping me out of my own body like a mollusk from its shell. Every muscle tightened against it, but it was no use. My back arched off the table and then, by the Master’s force, I began to shift.

  Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes as the pain mounted. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Screams of agony erupted from my lungs. Red hatred filled me: hatred for my inability to control my response to the torture; hatred for my failure to protect my children, and hatred for my incapacity to give my husband hope. Despite the torrent of unstoppable cries echoing through the chamber, a second sound cut through the damp, blood-filled atmosphere and touched my ears; the soft whimpers of my husband as he watched from his cell.

  I shook myself, forcing the memory away as I’d done countless times since it had happened. I inhaled several deep breaths to calm my nerves, thinking only of the present, the darkness, and the crackle of electricity. Yet my hand went to my stomach, cupping my blouse. Hidden under the fabric was a scar that would never fade. Not physically and not mentally. The mark was a constant reminder of what was stolen from me; my home, my family, my true powers, and the husband I once knew.

  Chapter 14

  I closed the door and faced the inside of my guest room. My chest heaved in a sigh as I waited for my nerves to calm. I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Looking for a fresh towel, I opened the small doors under the sink and grabbed one from a pile. Something small rolled out and clattered to the floor. It was a screwdriver. My brow arched in thought.

  You would’ve been handy ten minutes ago.

  I dabbed my face and then picked up the screwdriver and carried it to the remaining nightstand. I placed it in the small drawer near a book of matches. Noises stirred next door, drawing my attention to the wall I shared with Jesu. Every cell in my body wanted to burst into his room and demand to know why he omitted me from the conversation with Stefán, but I couldn’t do that without admitting to him that I’d eavesdropped. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know. Besides, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how much I’d screwed up so far. Could I really blame him?

  A knock on the door made me jump. It came from the bathroom. My hand clutched at my chest as I wilted in relief. “It’s open.”

  Jesu entered, brushing past the curtained arch. “Stefán came.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but changed his mind as he glanced at the blank spots on the mantle. I ran my palms over my thighs and steadied my breath, trying not to think of our kiss or the resulting argument. Now wasn’t the time.

  “Is he still here?”

  “No,” he said while slowly tracing a finger along a wide tear in the wallpaper. A painting used to hang there until I broke it with the nightstand. The frame must have caught the wallpaper when it fell. “Has anyone noticed your room is missing a large q
uantity of very expensive items?”

  I winced. “Not missing… broken. Sara and Rudo know.”

  “At least there does not appear to be any holes in the walls.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What did Stefán say?”

  Jesu sat on the foot of the bed and raked his fingers through his long locks. “My father has created a small band of followers. There are six total creatures like Enki, plus Victor has joined them.”

  My brow rose. Apparently I had missed some of the conversation. “Who’s Victor?”

  “He was the commanding officer of my father’s army, but their relationship goes back further than that. He is one of the few vampyres who followed my father willingly.”

  I shook my head. “What does that mean for us?”

  Jesu sucked in a breath and looked to the ceiling. “Victor is an easy means to a small army that will fight for Apollyon.”

  “What?” I shrieked. “How?”

  “He used to be a member of the Neo-Draugrian Council, but he argued against Jalmari’s every decision. Victor believed in my father’s way of running the clan and despised the idea of living in peace with humans. Eventually Jalmari stripped him of his duty and sent him to live as a civilian. In spite, Victor started a few of his own clans, gathering together like-minded civilians in hopes of impeaching Jalmari.”

  “Great,” I huffed. “He’s a mini Apollyon.”

  Jesu scoffed and shook his head. “Victor is all bark and no bite, but there is a good chance those rebellious clans will join my father. He has ways of motivating people to do what he wants.”