by Kiersten Fay
“Calic, I'm not leaving her.”
His shoulders dropped as Cale acknowledged the resolution in his tone. To Ethanule, Cale said, “If you value your life, pirate, you should get back to the ship.”
“If my princess needs me, I am here.”
Cale nodded. “Then let's rip this crap-hole apart.”
Suddenly, masses of bodies poured into the room, each with a weapon pointed straight at their heads.
Humorlessly, Ethanule quipped, “Go ahead, Cale, rip away.”
* * *
——
* * *
Another week in the dark chilled cell, manacles in place. With a profound emptiness, she stared at nothing. Her eyes were dry, drained of all their moisture and frozen in a constant state of shock.
Her father had come to her once. She recognized him now for who he was. But she refused to look at him. She didn't need him anymore and there was nothing he could do. He sat next to her for a time, in his ghostly form, pretending as though he could provide some measure of comfort.
He should leave her be. She'd served her purpose in his ploy. Sebastian was gone. Perhaps they'd found Nadua and were now on the way to retrieve her eldest sister. As he'd said in his letter, her father needed to be strong for their people.
“Go away! I am finished!”
When her father finally left, she hoped he never came back. There was no need for him to see her like this—wasted, resigned, and finally broken. Her heart wept for what it had lost.
For the last week she'd been alone with her thoughts, like parasites eating at her brain.
She didn't care that she was hungry. If they brought food, she wouldn't eat it.
The rumbling ship taunted her from every angle.
A repetitive noise in the distance formed into footsteps, stopping outside her door. The lock clicked and the door swung open, flooding the room with light. She didn't flinch, though the light stung and burned her dry eyes. The figure moved to unlock the metal from her wrists and ankles.
“Rise,” a voice commanded.
She didn't move, didn't blink.
Strong hands lifted her off the floor, forcing her to stand on her own two feet. Then he pushed her out into the hallway. She didn't wonder at where they were headed. She didn't care. There was nothing they could do to her that was worse than what she'd done to herself.
As they walked, her mind drifted in and out. The man at her back steered her by moving her shoulders in whatever direction he wanted her to go. Turn, walk, turn, walk.
They came to a door and the man lightly knocked. Darius' voice bade them enter, and Anya was shoved inside.
“Leave us,” Darius said to the guard.
The scene at her front had her swaying with nausea. She blinked rapidly to make it disappear, but it wouldn't. Darius was smiling at her! Actually smiling as Ethanule, Cale, and Sebastian stood strapped against the wall. Blood tricked down their bodies. Her voice caught when she tried to scream.
At the sight of her, Sebastian went wild, straining violently against his bindings.
As her heart jumping into her throat, she finally found her voice. “What did you do!” She tried to move toward them, but Darius wrapped a thick arm around her waist and held her back. She was on the brink of hysteria, unable to reach Sebastian, pushing against Darius' vice like grip.
“Calm yourself, my sweet,” he whispered in her ear. She jerked away and continued struggling. “I'm warning you!”
That gave her pause, his tone too familiar.
He wants something from me. He wants something. What does he want? Her mind went into overdrive. How can I stop this? I need to stop this.
As soon as she calmed as best she could, Sebastian relaxed slightly, though his eyes were wide and crazed. In the back of her mind she knew he was on the Edge, probably had been for days. What had Darius put them through?
When Darius felt she was under control, he let her back away from him. “You said you would let them go,” she pushed the words through clenched teeth, while studying their injuries.
All of them were beaten and bloody, scratches and cuts all over their exposed skin. Their hands were strapped at their sides. Thick metal around their necks held them firmly against the wall.
Ethanule had a thick gash down the left side of his face. The mark continued under the collar of his sweat drenched shirt. She couldn't see where it ended. He looked tired. They all looked tired.
Cale's face was mangled. One eye was swollen shut, the other was deep crimson. One of his horns had been sliced at the base, and his blond hair was matted with dried blood.
Eyes glowing red with anger, Sebastian's face was generally free of cuts or welts, but by the look on his face, she feared the damage was lower. She looked at his feet and let out a helpless whimper. Blood was pooling there. A lot of it. There was a gash in his clothing near his stomach, the red stain still growing. She spotted a blade dripping with blood on a shelf behind Darius.
Darius' eyes twinkled with amusement. “I never said I would let them go. I just said I needed them to believe you.”
To Darius, this was a game. And he was winning.
“You bastard!” She lunged. Forgetting her training, and mad with rage, she went for his neck.
Crack!
Dazed, she found herself on the floor. Her cheek pounded from the hit. The inside of her mouth tasted metallic.
A deafening roar echoed off the walls.
The guard from before peeked his head in at the commotion and laughed when he saw Anya on the ground.
Darius let out an annoyed sound. “I said leave us! Do not come back in!”
The guard quickly obeyed.
Anya picked herself off the floor, meeting Sebastian's crazed eyes. Something flashed between them, love and sorrow, and a wish for something different. She mouthed, “I'm sorry.” and then, “I love you.”
“No!”
Crack!
She was back on the floor.
Darius screamed at her. “No! No! No!”
Sebastian went ballistic. Blood dripped down from the metal bar biting into his neck. He'd break his neck if he kept that up. The other two were screaming at Darius and struggling against their restraints.
Anya pulled herself off the ground once more, facing Darius with hate in her eyes. Lifting herself to her full height, she asked, “What do you want?” Her cheek was throbbing.
With his eyes wide—giving her an idea of what pure insanity might look like—Darius replied, “You.” When she didn't respond, he continued. “I want you to acknowledge me as your master. I want you to say that you are mine.” He growled the last word.
“And if I do? What will happen to them?”
He waved his hand negligently. “They are nothing. What do I care if they go free?”
“Fine, then.” She opened her mouth to do as he asked, but he stopped her.
“Ah, ah, ah, there is more.”
With a sickly feeling, she waited for the rest.
“I want you to be good to me. Very good.”
She cringed, knowing he didn't want her to bake him cookies and do his laundry.
“I want you to make me believe it.” His voice had gone hoarse. When she didn't answer, he moved to pick up a small black remote. With the push of a button, a volt of electricity ran over the wall. The captured men convulsed from the shock of it. Their screams raked her hearing.
“Stop it!” she yelled.
Releasing the button, Darius turned to her.
Never in a million years could she do what he was asking, not without retching all over him. But if it would save her friends, she had to at least agree, even if she couldn't follow through.
Ignoring Sebastian's fevered protests, she pushed the word out, “Fine.”
Darius practically twinkled with triumph. He moved to her and genuinely seemed shocked when she skirted away. Angry, he lifted the remote once more.
“Wait!”
Pausing, hand in midair, he cracked a sly smile.
“I want you now.”
“No.”
He moved toward her again, catching her around the waist. Her back met the ground with him on top of her, pawing at her body.
The noises coming from Sebastian and the others were such as she'd never heard before. Beastly sounds.
Her panic began to ebb, and a small amount of clarity seeped in. With Darius in this position, she recalled her training. Mustering as much strength as she could, she stabbed the butt of her palm into his nose. Head rocking back, Darius grabbed at his gushing nose and then shot her a confounded expression.
Cale too went into training mode. “Good hit! Get up and do it again! Keep him at your front!”
Satisfaction surged through her as she scrambled away and lifted into her fighting stance.
Once his shock faded, Darius gave a little laugh. “Do you think you're brave? A tough little girl?”
They stood in piercing silence. Every now and again, Darius would fake lunge at her, playing with her. She refused to flinch away from him. Darius was a good fighter, but an arrogant one. He would underestimate her, which was her greatest advantage at the moment.
Just as she expected, Darius took his eyes off her to give the imprisoned males an expression that said, “What is this, a joke”?
Her leg shot out, catching him low in the gut, her heel digging in hard. As he bent with a groan, her knee connected with his still bleeding nose, knocking him to the ground. He let out an involuntary grunt. Lowering herself to the ground, she sliced her leg through the air and smashed the hard part of her heel with the tender area of his throat. Wind gushed out of him, and his eyes grew wide with pain.
Oh, how she wanted to continue hitting him, but she needed to free the boys. Darius had underestimated her before, but he wouldn't again, and he would only be incapacitated for so long. She searched him for the remote that he'd placed it in his front pocket.
Got it!
Damn! She only saw the button that triggered the electricity. She turned it over in her hand, looking for the way to release them, but Darius was already rising to his feet, coughing and spitting blood. She faced him again, scanning the room for something that she could use as a weapon.
The knife!
She lunged for it, but Darius caught her wrist and twisted, bringing her to her knees. Crying out, she felt her bones breaking under his grip. Darius looked down at her with evil intent, no longer playing. He wanted blood. With her free hand, she dug her nails into his crotch, squeezing as hard as she could. He let out a high-pitched scream that would have been gratifying had he not whacked her across the face, sending her head-first into the ground.
He straddled her. Thick fingers snaked around her neck, cutting off her air. She grabbed his broken nose between two fingers, applying pressure to the tender nerves. He growled in pain. Then he raised his fist in the air. He was going to bring it straight down on her. That kind of blow could render her unconscious. At the last minute, she craned her head, dodging it. She heard flesh slap hard against metal. Cursing, Darius cradled his fist.
She slipped out from under him and put all her strength into a kick to his head. She made solid, contact and he went limp to the floor. Scrambling past him, she grabbed the hilt of the bloody dagger in her fist. When she turned back to Darius, he was there, nostrils flaring. Moving too quickly, he ripped the dagger from her grip. Hand once again around her neck, Darius pushed her so hard into the wall that her head bounced off the metal.
Then she felt a sharp pain in her side. Her vision went white for a moment. Realizing something was wrong, her mind focused on the hideous face before her. He looked angry, sad, and infatuated all at the same time. Then he shoved the dagger into her a second time.
She was surprised how silent everything became. Past Darius, the boys were still flailing wildly, mouths moving with unheard words. Sebastian had a hopeless expression as more blood spilled from his neck and wrists.
A calmness came over her as Darius lifted the dagger once more. She should have realized from the start that the restraints were mechanized. As the dagger entered her again, she could barely feel it, her body was a shell and she sensed herself slipping away from it.
Gathering the end of her strength, she focused her powers. A strange clarity made her acutely accurate.
Sound came rushing back with a soft click.
Unable to keep the smile off her face, she took one last look at Darius. He was dumfounded at her expression. Then he seemed to notice, for the first time, the blood dripping from her and the dagger in his hand.
With venom in her tone, she spoke the last words he would ever hear. “This will be better than you deserve.”
Sebastian's approaching growl was so menacing she felt it in her bones. Darius' scream began even before he was snatched away. With his body no longer holding her up, she slumped to the floor. Heavy lids closed over unseeing eyes.
Oh, but she could still hear.
Bones crushing. Flesh tearing. Scream after harrowing scream. It went on forever, it seemed. In the end, Darius had begged for his life, blubbering like a baby.
When the terrible clamor ended, Anya could sense Sebastian close, barely able to smell his scent over the metallic tinge of blood. She thought her body might be in his arms. He was trying to wake her, but she was already gone.
She wished she could tell him one last time that she loved him, to tell him to be happy, but her mouth wouldn't work. Her airway had already clogged with blood.
* * *
As Anya's body fell lifeless, Sebastian’s vision went red, and there was no more Edge, just a massive bottomless chasm filled to the brim with his unstable rage. Darius hadn't lasted long after that. His flesh was like butter against Sebastian's claws.
Now Sebastian was hunched over Anya's body, blood seeped from the wounds at her stomach, while her eyes fluttered as though she were fighting to remain conscious.
“Anya!” he called, petting back her sweat drenched hair. She gurgled something. She was mouthing, “be happy.”
Only if you live.
“Please, Anya! Open your eyes! Someone get a doctor! A healer! Now!”
Gods, I can’t lose her.
“I will follow you Damn it! You hear me? I will follow!”
“The guard is just outside. If we're not careful, we'll have every gunman on the ship here,” Cale reasoned.
Sebastian clutched Anya close, feeling her grow colder by the second. Tears brimmed in the corners of his eyes. Never in his life had he shed a tear. Not for his father. Not for his mother's betrayal. Not during his torture. But now he openly wept as Anya's heart began to slow its pace.
Suddenly, Ethanule was there, reaching for her.
“Get away from her! Find a doctor!”
Cale appeared behind Ethanule, pulling him away from the enraged demon.
“No!” Ethanule cried, fighting Cale's grasp. “Give her to me!”
“Do you want him to kill you, pirate?”
“I can help her, if it's not too late already! Give me her body!”
“How can you help her? Tell me!” Sebastian ordered.
“My ability. The root of my power lies in healing.”
“Then do it! Heal her, now!”
“I have to touch her body, so don't kill me. Okay?”
With a clipped nod, Sebastian relinquished Anya. Ethanule pressed one hand to her wound and the other to her heart.
Nothing happened.
Sebastian was about to push Ethanule out of the way and order, once again, to find a doctor, when a strangeness fell over the room.
The air began to chill. Sebastian blew out a condensing breath. The cold air became light, difficult to capture in his lungs. All around them, small objects slowly rose from the ground. There were strips of clothing and drops of blood hovering in the air from the mass of power. An abnormal light, dim at first, grew around Anya, bringing with it a sound
that could not be described by any known language. Haunting. Beautiful. Frightening. Wondrous. None of these words accurately described what Sebastian was witnessing.
Ethanule reached out toward Sebastian. “Give me your hand!”
Sebastian did as asked. Ethanule placed Sebastian's palm over Anya's heart and held it there.
“Call her back!” Ethanule commanded. When Sebastian gaped at him blankly, Ethanule continued. “If you are truly hers, then your souls are linked. She will hear your call.”
Sebastian noticed that her wounds were already healed, body revived. But were they too late? Had her soul already abandoned her body? “What do I do?”
“Just keep your hand here and imagine her with you. The connection will help my magic.”
Sebastian did as he was instructed, watching Anya's face. In place of her usual luminescent skin was a dullness that shot fear into him. His chest clenched at the thought of losing her. With one hand over her heart, he took her other hand in his and squeezed gently. “Don't go,” he whispered into her ear. “Come back to me.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his warmth against her shocking cold. His salty tears dripped down her smooth cheekbones.
Ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable, she inhaled a faint breath. Then she inhaled again, stronger this time. Her skin began to grow warmer, regaining its color.
With obvious effort, Ethanule sat back, drawing in a deep breath. A light sheen of sweat covered him. Cale slapped him hard on the back with a hearty laugh. Ethanule grunted at the force of it, but smiled anyway. Then he grew serious once more. “It's not over yet. She's healed. Her soul is in place…for now.”
“What do you mean for now?”
“Her soul had left her body, her vessel. Her body is in great shock. Her soul is once again connected to this body, but…that doesn't mean she'll wake up.”
Sebastian gazed down at Anya, who looked as though she were only in a sound sleep. “She'll wake up,” he said it like an order. As if commanding it would make it so. “Let's get back to Marada. Don't suppose you have enough juice left to heal us too?”
“Sorry, I'm tapped out.”
Cale pushed his shoulders back. “I'm fine anyway. In fact, I'm ready to do some damage.”