by Ainsley Shay
“Really?”
I reached for the pillow next to me, sat up, and launched it at his head. “No! Not really!” I lay back down and turned onto my side away from him. “Just go away.” The bed shifted when he stood.
28 days after ~
The room seemed smaller than it had before. The bastards had cuffed my wrists to the chains attached to the ceiling. My head lolled to the side. The chains were crude and dug into my skin. A cool breeze blew across my cheeks. I tried to raise my head and failed. The iron gate at the end of the hall gently latched closed, which was odd because no one who normally was coming or going cared about the loud crashes it made. I felt a presence, one I thought I’d felt before, but I was probably too out of it, drunk on Lord Darenfys’ blood, to realize. Though, it was familiar all the same.
I tried again to raise my head. A guard stood in front of me on the other side of the bars. When I focused, I saw his eyes. They were dark behind the mask. He was the one who had shown me compassion since I had been a prisoner here. Had he come to save me, to free me from this hell? My heart swelled at the thought. He entered the cell. I had no idea how long I had been there. Where were the slave-guards? I was too relieved to care; he was here to rescue me.
“You’re here,” I croaked.
He nodded. Looking around the room, his eyes landed on the only thing that was ever there, the goblet of blood. I was so thirsty. I almost hoped he would pour some into my mouth. But, he turned back to me.
My weak heart pumped the Lord’s evil blood through my body. I’d only had blood to drink for how long I didn’t know. His eyes dropped to the floor. That was when he realized defeat. When he looked at me, I saw the helplessness. He gently cupped my face in his palm and turned my head to the side exposing my neck. My relief at seeing him instantly turned to fear. My God, he was here to drink from me, like the slave-guards teased me about, but never had, thanks to Penemuel’s orders.
“I just needed...” He tested the iron cuffs around my wrists. There was no way to free them without the key. I had tried with horrible desperation to escape them, only to end up with bloodied wrists and hands. I wanted to scream and thrash myself free, but the chains held me, and my voice was useless. He lowered his head to the edge of my jawline. He didn’t say anything for a long time. I tried to speak.
“Don’t,” he whispered and placed his thumb over my cracked lips. “I needed to see, even if it meant death, to see if I could free you. But, I have again failed you, and I will never forgive myself. I would end my own life if I could to ease your torment and suffering.”
The mask muffled his voice, but I had heard every word. I knew I would die here; it was just a matter of when. The tears rolled down my cheeks through the dirt, grime, and dried blood.
“I have to leave now, they cannot know that I was here.” He slid his hand down my cheek through the wetness. His eyes fell as if he could no longer bear the sight of me. Turning away, he left the cell and closed the iron door behind him. I was left waiting to die while I hung like a broken wind chime.
I was crying when I woke. Chandler was lying awake next to me with a wad of tissues in his hand. “Here.”
I took them, not yet using them, I said, “He loved her.”
“Yeah.”
This nightmare had so far been the hardest to endure. He had loved her and couldn’t save her. How long had she been at Skelside, weeks? It was difficult to tell. How could he have fallen in love with her so quickly? Had she fallen in love with him? Maybe her love was more like an act of desperation because he had been nice to her. He, on the other hand, it was like he had known her before. Before what?
Then, even though the suffering continued and the conditions were harsh, I was drawn away from the gore and forced to see love. There was a love that lived within the walls of all the torture and death. It was as if it fed upon the mayhem that surrounded it, needed it to sustain its own life.
41
“Mr. Pene killed your dad?” Snow played with the few strands of her hair that had come loose from the clip. “Seriously, you have to go to the police.”
“And then what?” I put my face in my hands. “I don’t know if he’s hum—”
“Don’t say it! I am not going down that little lane that leads into Freakville, again.” She moved my hands from my face and held them. “Look at me.” I raised my eyes to meet hers. “I know there is some weirdo shit going on, but you cannot let that bastard get away with what he did. Iris, he killed your father.” Her last few words were slow and measured. “You have to go to the police.”
I shook my head. “I have no evidence that he did it, only the taunting smile that told me so.”
“Maybe Chandler and Blacwin know something, and they can help,” she suggested.
This was one of those times I wanted her to release the jaws of reasoning. Part of me knew she was right; going to the police was the right thing to do. The other part of me, which was about the other ninety-nine percent, knew going to the police was a bad idea. Not only would they think I was crazy, but my father’s death would turn into a circus act; they’d probably dig him up, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. “Snow, I can’t go to the police, I need to find a way to take care of this myself.”
“Oh, so you’re going to go all vigilante on his ass?”
The thought was appealing, but I couldn’t see myself trying to take down Penemuel. I needed to go at him from an angle. As the thought percolated, I smiled.
“Why are you smiling?” asked Snow.
Penemuel wanted nothing more than to know how to kill Lord Darenfys, not to kill him, but to prevent anyone from doing so. “There is something he wants from me; maybe I can trick him into confessing, or something.”
Snow let go of my hands and crossed her arms. I sat down and contemplated my idea. “That sounds like half of a plan. So what now? Dangle this luring little info carrot in front of him and hope that he takes a bite?”
That’s what I was thinking. But, since she put it like that, it did sound stupid.
“What kind of name is Penemuel, anyway?”
“A fallen angel’s name.”
She looked at me then. “Is that what you think he is?”
I didn’t know for sure—and as impossible as it sounded, and more than a little crazy, I was thinking the answer was yes.
Snow must have seen my demeanor change. She lowered her arms and came to sit down next to me. “What is it?”
I did not like the dank and dark places where my thoughts headed. “I think Penemuel killed that girl who was found during the rave party, too.”
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” She stood again. “Iris, you have to go to the cops.”
“No,” I whispered. “I can’t.”
“Iris?” I looked up at her. Snow’s eyes were blazing with heated anger. “I don’t know what hold any of them have over you, but you are insane if you think you can take him down by yourself.”
I knew she was right. I felt like I was going insane. The nightmares alone were all but eating away at my sanity. Then, there was Chandler, who claimed to be my brother. And, Blacwin, Blacwin... I wondered if I had been truly fair to him. Could I trust him? I’m not sure what he and Chandler had talked about after the run-in at the bookstore, but it seemed they had come to some kind of terms since Chandler trusted him enough to call him yesterday when Penemuel confronted me.
A hand was waving in front of my face, and I snapped out of the trance.
“Where’d you go?”
“Snow, promise me you won’t tell anyone or go to the police.”
She let out a deep, ragged, frustrated breath. “You know I’m totally against this?”
“I know. But you love me more than all this crap.”
She hugged me. “I hope you’re making the right choice.”
“Me, too.” I pulled back. “I want to ask you something, and I know you’ll tell me like it is.”
“You know it.”
“Do you think I can trust Blacwin?
”
She hesitated for a minute. “I do. God, I have no idea why I’m saying yes, or why I think so.” She choked out a laugh. “Even in my rage against them at the bookshop, I saw the pain he knew he caused you exploding across his face. It was so raw that Hollywood couldn’t even pull it off. I don’t think he could hide what he feels for you or not; it’s in his eyes, the way he looks at you.”
“What color are his eyes?”
“They’re like the night. The darkest midnight blue I have ever seen.”
“Chandler’s eyes are the same color as mine, aren’t they?”
“Exactly. Silvery gray.” She giggled. “It’s weird cause when we kissed...” A lazy and very happy grin spread over her lips. “Damn, the boy can kiss.” Her eyes closed as she reminisced. When she opened them, she said, “It was weird at first, cause the first time he kissed me, it was like I was looking into your eyes, and... ah, yeah.” She visibly shivered. “I love you and all, but...”
She didn’t need to finish, I didn’t want to kiss her either. We both started laughing.
Our laughs faded into giggles, then dissolved into silence. “All of this is very real, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” was all I managed to breathe out.
“You know, I don’t want this to come off wrong, but at least now, maybe you can feel some closure to your dad’s... you know?”
I hadn’t let myself feel that emotion, nor had I had the chance. But, she was right. I closed my eyes and thought about what his death meant. Guilt still plagued me, but now, knowing what we had been up against, not as much as it had. It was stronger, older, and a heck of a lot more experienced than anything we could have imagined. “I wish I had come home earlier, but I don’t think it would have changed the outcome of all of this. Penemuel still would have found a way to get to him.” I took a deep breath after voicing the swirling thoughts. “Chandler told me people would die or kill for the secrets locked away in my head. It’s not that I didn’t believe him. But, his words became very real when I found out Penemuel killed my dad.”
“Do you know what the secrets are?” she asked.
I nodded, with the words caught in my throat for a few beats. “They want to know how to kill Lord Darenfys.”
“Wait! He’s real, not just some crazy guy in your head?” Snow sounded as flabbergasted as I felt.
“I think everything, and everyone in the dreams are very real, and very much alive.”
“How can that be possible? It doesn’t—can’t make sense.”
Again, she was right. There was nothing logical about any of this. “I don’t know. But somehow, my past has caught up with me.”
42
29 days after ~
“Bet your arms need a rest,” the short slave-guard grumbled. He pulled a single key from his pocket and unlocked one of the cuffs. My arm fell. The sensation could only be described as agony when blood rushed into my limbs. He unlocked the other, and again, millions of pinpricks filled with pain danced down my arms. My legs gave out, and I fell. The guard didn’t bother to catch me. I crashed onto the dirt floor.
“Does that feel better my little friend?”
“Why doesn’t Lord Darenfys just kill me?” I croaked. My voice was cracked and raw from thirst.
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re a sick man.”
He kicked me hard in the gut. Air rushed out of my collapsed lungs. He bent down, and his face was inches from mine. “Watch your words with me, my Lady. As your caretaker, I assure you, you don’t want to anger me,” he said, his putrid breath hot on my face.
Caretaker, is that what he called himself? The lack of air and water prevented me to retort.
“I’ll be back shortly, don’t go anywhere.” He slammed the iron gate behind him and latched the lock since I was no longer chained.
I could feel the Lord’s blood flooding my bod. It slowly killed parts of my soul and left trails of evil and darkness in its wake. I felt it taking over. Despite what the slave-guard had said, I would never get used to it. But, it was the only thing in the room, and I needed something to quench the burning in my throat and fill my stomach. I dragged myself to the goblet. Shakily, I lifted it to my lips and drank. The pungent metallic liquid coated my throat. I gagged and fought the urge to vomit. I hated him for what he had forced me to become. The goblet fell from my hand and the rest of its contents spilled in a thick dark puddle next to my knee. I scooted back before it reached me.
From somewhere within, I found the energy to crawl across the dirt to the iron bars and rest my head against their cool, rough surface. My arms were weak, and I was barely able to lift them to wipe the guard’s spittle and blood from my face. The gate at the end of the hall clicked opened and then closed. I heard the hard footfalls of someone approaching.
I closed my eyes. “Please,” I begged. “Please, just let me die.”
“Catherine,” said a deep voice.
I thought I recognized the voice, only this time, it was clear, not muffled. I kept my eyes closed and let myself believe it was the nice guard and this time he would save me. I felt the warmth of his palm on my cheek. His touch was gentle as he stroked my cheek and hair. I lifted my head and dared myself to open my eyes. He was kneeling on the other side of the bars next to my nearly lifeless and crumpled body. His dark eyes were staring at me, and for the first time, I saw his face. The smile that found its way to my mouth was greeted by pain when my lips cracked, and I winced. He was beautiful. Dark hair that matched his eyes fell over high cheekbones. His long lashes framed those dark, sad eyes.
“Your body is rejecting the change the Lord has planned for you. You, you’re...”
His hand went to his mouth to stifle the sobs that threaten to break free. He couldn’t say what I already knew… I was dying. I couldn’t imagine what Lord Darenfys planned for me to become, besides a blood drinker. Part of me that was grateful for not being clued in to his plans.
“I wanted to protect you from that, from what he had made of me, made all of us into. But now, you won’t even be...”
“I want to die,” I whispered.
His hand lingered long enough for me to lay my head against the warm skin of his palm. I closed my eyes and found myself drifting into a world of happiness and freedom. I lifted my head and opened my eyes when I thought of the necklace my mother had given me before I left to be married. She told me its stone was to remind me of faraway love. I reached up to grasp the stone. My still weak arm yanked it from around my neck. I held it in my balled fist. A tear fell down my cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. I reached through the bars, pressed the necklace into his palm, and curled his fingers around it. “Please, have this.” I brought his fist to my lips and kissed it.
His face was so pained, and I wished there was something I could do. But, I was more than helpless. He brought his lips to the bar and kissed my hand that held his. “I will always love you.”
A loud noise from the end of the corridor caught his attention, and he ripped his hand away. Desperately, I reached for it but knew it was too late. He stood, turned away from me, and retreated to a freedom I had lost hope of ever seeing again. I felt my face and imagined I could still feel the warmth from his touch. I folded myself onto the dirt floor, and once again, silently cried myself to sleep.
I still felt Blacwin’s hand pressed against my cheek. Any, and all logic protested it couldn’t be possible, but it felt exactly like it had the first night he’d kissed me. What bonded us together like this? I felt as if there were other nightmares that I had been spared when he came to the dungeon to visit Catherine, me, but she had been sleeping or too out of it to realize he was there, but I felt his presence.
I didn’t care what time it was when I called Blacwin. When he answered, his voice was strained. “Iris, what’s wrong?”
The words tumbled out of my mouth. “You’re in my nightmares.”
“I know. I promise I’ll tell you anything you want t
o know, but I need to see you.”
Those five words were enough to break me, but I had to stay strong. I didn’t know how this would end. “Blacwin, please help me understand.” I tried to keep my voice from cracking.
“Do you remember when I told you I would never tell another soul my biggest fear?”
I had no idea what this had to do with my nightmare, but I had remembered. “Yes”
“I’m terrified of losing you, again.”
Again.
43
Chandler wasn’t happy I was going to see Blacwin, especially when I insisted on going alone. Finally, he backed down. I threw on a sweater, leggings, and Doc Martins. Chandler handed me the keys to his car. “It’ll get you there faster.”
I hugged him. “Thank you.”
The Porsche was fast. I pushed down the clutch and shifted into third. The car responded and thrust forward smoothly. When I pulled up to Adelina’s house, I realized I had gotten there in record time. Getting there that quick meant I hadn’t had enough time to contemplate what I would say to Blacwin. Several deep inhalations and exhalations later, I found the nerve to get out of the car.
As the wood of the bottom step on the porch creaked, the door opened. It wasn’t like the first time I had come here. There was a thick and heavy cloud of tension in the air between us. His bare feet stepped over the threshold to meet me halfway. His disheveled look of worn jeans and a plain t-shirt had my thoughts focusing on other things than what they were supposed to. I mentally slapped myself for staring. As my gaze fell on his sorrowful expression, I stopped before I took the last step that would place me right in front of him. My heart filled with dread. I had no idea what to expect from coming here.
“I’m glad you came.” His voice was husky and raw with ache. He held out his hand. I took the last step and put mine into his. He turned and led me into the house when what I really wanted was to be pulled into his arms. After the dream, I knew the love between the girl in the dream and Blacwin was as deep and strong as a bond could ever be. If she and I were the same, wouldn’t I remember how strong it was? By the look on his face in my dream, and now, he had suffered a great deal for many years without the one he loved. I, on the other hand, would have to learn to love him again, that was, if I chose to.