Ashes (The Slayer Chronicles Book 3)

by Val St. Crowe

  At the last second, Logan twisted out of the way of the knife.

  “Oh, good God,” said Cunningham. “Not this crap again.” He snatched Logan’s chin and forced the gargoyle to look at him. “Hold still.” He turned back to Naelen. “Now, properly, please, stab him.”

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  “Hold on, Naelen,” said Cunningham, holding up a finger. He turned to me. “You want it to stop, Clarke? Then tell me how you’re resisting me.”

  “Don’t tell him anything, Clarke,” called Logan.

  “Not a word,” said Naelen.

  I shut my eyes.

  “I’m waiting,” said Cunningham. “You had better tell me. Do you think I’ll only have him stabbed once? You’re going to watch them kill each other, you realize this? I gave them to you, and you don’t want them, so now they’ll destroy each other.”

  My eyes snapped open. “No,” I whispered.

  “Then tell me,” said Cunningham.

  I shook my head.

  Cunningham let out an exasperated sigh. He turned back to Naelen. “Stab him.”

  Naelen did, but he only stuck the knife in about half an inch before pulling it out.

  Cunningham groaned. “You call that a stab?”

  Naelen shrugged. “I did as I was told, didn’t I?”

  “Stab him properly,” said Cunningham. “Stick the entire blade into him.”

  Naelen brandished the knife and brought it down.

  Logan pivoted, and the knife went into his wing. The blade went all the way through. He didn’t even flinch. There was no feeling in that part of his wing.

  “Gah!” Cunningham spat. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

  And that was when I spied my clothes. They were lying in a pile with the guy’s clothes on top of the bureau, right next to the door. And I could see our talismans and my monocle in a little heap next to the clothes.

  “Stick the knife blade into the gargoyle’s stomach!” Cunningham snapped.

  Naelen clenched his teeth, trying to resist.

  I needed to get free from these ropes. If I could get to the monocle… But no, the guys were untied, and Cunningham hadn’t compelled them to stay in one place—well, no, he’d told Logan to hold still, hadn’t he? But Naelen could move. If I could communicate to him to get to the monocle, throw it to me or something, then I could stop everything!

  Naelen stabbed Logan.

  Logan let out a pained grunt.

  I cringed. And then I realized that my plan was a dumb one anyway, because even if had the monocle, I’d still be tied to this bed, and these ropes were real, not magic. I needed a way to get free.

  Damn it, we were screwed.

  Cunningham turned to me. “Well, Clarke?”

  Naelen pushed Logan’s hand over the wound, since Logan couldn’t move.

  Logan cringed, breathing hard.

  Naelen was whispering apologies to the other man. He picked up a tasseled pillow and made Logan hold it to his stomach to soak up the blood.

  This wasn’t good. Time for another plan. Maybe I could lie to Cunningham.

  “Shall I have your dragon stab him again, or should it be the gargoyle’s turn?”

  I licked my lips. “It’s a spell. Ambrose did it on me. He wanted to do it on himself, but I convinced him to get his brother to safety instead.”

  Cunningham arched an eyebrow. “A spell? How did he do it?”

  “Um, I don’t know. With a cauldron and some foreign words and a bunch of disgusting ingredients. He smeared it all over my skin, and then I could resist you.”

  Cunningham made an annoyed face. “When will it wear off?”

  “He didn’t say it would wear off.”

  “It’s a spell, Clarke. No spell lasts forever. Without upkeep, they all fall apart. So, when did he do this to you?”

  “Right before you arrived yesterday.”

  “It can’t last longer than twenty-four hours,” said Cunningham. “Of course… I don’t suppose it really matters, does it? I’ve got you tied down, and you’re not going to be able to fight, so…” He shrugged. “Naelen, slit Clarke’s throat.”

  Naelen convulsed. He went rigid, trying to stop himself from moving, but he couldn’t. He started to walk toward me, moving slowly.

  My heart started to speed up. “Maybe Naelen could give me the dignity of dying in my clothes, Cunningham?”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” said Cunningham. “I’m not pleased about having to do away with you. I always liked you, Clarke. You were one of my favorites. Really. And if you start talking at me like that, it’s going to make it harder.”

  “Just tell him to go pick them up from the bureau,” I said. “It’s a simple request. Please.” I gestured with my head to the bureau.

  Naelen looked where I was gesturing. He saw the monocle. He let out a little breath. He was still coming for me, but he was moving slowly, barely lifting his feet as he inched toward the bed.

  “And how are you going to put on clothes?” said Cunningham. “I’m not letting him untie you.” He pointed at Naelen. “You are forbidden from using that knife to set her free. You can only slit her throat with it.”

  “He can drape them over me,” I said. “Please, I only want to be covered in my last moments. If you have a shred of decency—”

  “No,” said Cunningham.

  “Cunningham, please,” I said.

  “I’ve already said no,” said Cunningham. His gaze settled on Naelen. “And you, what is the hold up? Faster, please.”

  Naelen sped up a bit, but he still continued quite slowly.

  “You could change your mind,” I said.

  “I won’t,” he said. “You’re going to die, and it doesn’t matter whether you’re covered or not. I’ve seen you naked a thousand times, and so have both of them. But I will do you a bit of a favor, since—as I say—you are one of my favorites, and I’m sorry to see you go. So, I will allow you to decide whether or not your boys should be killed after you go or if I should keep them alive as blood slaves. I can’t let them go free or anything like that, but I will let them live, if that’s what you want.”

  “What I want,” I said, “is to have my clothes when I die.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Clarke, it’s a stupid request,” said Cunningham.

  “I’m dying here. Humor me.”

  “No.” Cunningham turned wide angry eyes on Naelen. “Get over here. I want you at Clarke’s bedside in the next sixty seconds.”

  “The clothes!” I said, and I let my voice break, let the sound of tears come into it.

  “Oh, I really hate it when women cry,” Cunningham muttered. He rubbed his forehead. “All right, all right. Very well. Naelen, bring her damned clothes.”

  I let out a breath. “Thank you, Cunningham.”

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “Shut up, then.”

  And I felt his compulsion take hold on me. He must have done it without thinking about it, so used to making every order a magical compulsion that he automatically did it. Up until now, he hadn’t bothered to compel me. He must have thought that it was a lost cause, so why waste the energy?

  Naelen picked up my clothes and grabbed the monocle at the same time.

  Luckily, Cunningham wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was pacing, muttering to himself.

  Naelen started toward me, now coming at a decent pace because he wanted to get the monocle to me.

  Cunningham held out a hand. “Stop,” he said to Naelen.

  Naelen froze.

  My limbs sagged against the ropes that held me. Seriously?

  Cunningham came up to me, leaning over the bed so that he rested one hand on the other side of my head and could peer down at me, face-to-face. “Oh, Clarke, I really wish I didn’t have to do this.”

  I couldn’t speak. I stared up at him, willing him not to notice that his compulsion had worked.

  “What? Nothing to say now?” he said. “Too proud to beg for your life? You begged for th
ose clothes well enough. Why not your life?”

  I licked my lips, but I couldn’t say anything.

  “Answer me,” thundered Cunningham.

  “I’m not too proud,” I said. He had compelled me again.

  “So, do it,” he said.

  “Don’t kill me,” I said. “Please, don’t.” I wanted the monocle. How was I going to get it?

  Cunningham furrowed his brow. “That really wasn’t convincing at all. You know, Clarke, for a person who’s about to be killed—by one of the men she loves, no less—you really do seem distracted.”

  “I don’t mean to be,” I said. “I guess it all seems very surreal.”

  “Yes.” Cunningham considered that, pushing himself off the bed. “I suppose it would. Must be very strange indeed.” He pointed at Naelen. “Go ahead and cover her up with her clothes like she likes, but don’t kill her yet. I’m really not sure if I want her dead or not.”

  Another little relieved breath escaped me.

  I shot a glance at Logan, who’d been compelled to hold still a long time ago. He couldn’t do anything. He was still holding the pillow up his stomach. Hopefully that was stanching his wound.

  Naelen slid the monocle under my back, so that it was touching my skin.

  Immediately, I could see the threads of compulsion that held him to Cunningham. But my hands were tied down. I couldn’t reach them. I gave him a look and gestured with my head, looking meaningfully at my hand.

  Wordlessly, he shook his head, eyes wide.

  He thought I was telling him to free me, but he’d been compelled not to.

  Cunningham was tapping his chin. “It makes sense to kill you. It’s the best thing for me. You are very annoying and never helpful. You’re ungrateful when I do you favors. There’s no reason to keep you alive.”

  I made a motion with my fingers, trying to indicate unraveling threads. I meaningfully looked at my fingers as I did it.

  Naelen looked very confused. And then he leaned down. Closer. Closer.

  I could almost reach.

  “But I do like you,” said Cunningham. “And I feel like the world would be a sadder place without you in—what are you doing, Naelen? Why are you leaning over her like that?”

  Haha! I tugged at the threads, pulling them loose, and they unraveled in my hands, turned dull, then black, and disappeared.

  Naelen lunged over the bed, brandishing the knife. He stabbed Cunningham in the temple.

  Cunningham’s eyes bulged in confusion and then he toppled over, down for the count. It would take him time to heal a wound to the head.

  Naelen yanked the knife out of Cunningham’s skull. It came free with a sickening slurping noise. He slashed the ropes that bound me and tugged me out of bed.

  I hurried over to Logan and began undoing his compulsion threads. But as I did it, I started to feel lightheaded again. I collapsed into Logan, holding onto him to stay upright.

  “What’s wrong?” said Logan. He still couldn’t move.

  “I’m weak,” I whispered. “I need rest. I need food. I can’t…”

  And then everything went dark again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I awoke in Naelen’s arms. I was dressed, and he was dressed. He was setting me down on the ground and dialing his cell phone with his other hand. I looked around. We were outside of the manor, right next to the fountain in the driveway.

  “No time for pleasantries,” Naelen said into the phone.

  I struggled to sit up. Where was Logan?

  “Where are you?” said Naelen. “You still close to the house?… We need your help.”

  “Naelen?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” he said into the phone. “Meet us in the driveway by the fountain. We don’t have much time.”

  “Where’s Logan?”

  “You didn’t undo the compulsion before you passed out,” said Naelen. “He’s stuck. Cunningham’s still out of it. You’ve only been out for a few minutes. Logan told me to get you out of there. I said that I’d come back for him.” He hit himself against the forehead with his own palm. “Why didn’t I just go get a damned blade and cut the bastard’s head off? That’s what I’m going to do. You stay here.”

  “What?” I said. “You might need me.”

  “You’re useless right now. Every time you try something, you just pass the hell out.”

  “Who’d you call?”

  “Riley, but I don’t have time to talk.” He sprinted back for the house.

  “Naelen!” I yelled after him.

  He didn’t answer back.

  I got to my feet and hobbled behind him, trying to run fast enough to catch up.

  Naelen was still running, faster and faster, leaving me behind.

  Cunningham appeared in the doorway, blood trickling down the side of his face. He pushed Logan out of the door. Logan had the pocket knife to his throat. “Both of you just stop right there,” the vampire said.

  I didn’t. I kept moving.

  I had to get to Logan first, undo the compulsion, free him. That was how we got out of here. If I could just get there!

  A car roared up the driveway, its headlights cutting through the darkness of the early morning.

  “What’s this?” snarled Cunningham.

  I kept running.

  Riley and Ambrose got out of the car.

  Ambrose held up one hand and a blue fireball shot out of his palm.

  It hurtled through the air, gaining speed as it flew.

  Cunningham held up his hands to try to stop it.

  But it sizzled into him, sending him sprawling onto his back.

  And I reached Logan. As quick as I could, I undid the compulsion threads, pulling them aside, freeing him. But I was fading again, losing consciousness.

  I fell over, the world closing in on me.

  The last thing I saw was Cunningham getting to his feet.

  Blackness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I awoke again, and we were back in the house. All five of us were in the attic room where we’d found Ambrose the day before. The door was shut, and through my hazy vision, I could see that threads of magic held us all in place and held the door closed. I knew I could undo those threads, but I didn’t think I’d be able to stay conscious once I was done. I grimaced, trying to sit up. My head felt as if it was being stabbed simultaneously by thousands of needles. I was dizzy.

  “…taking it out of her. She needs food and rest,” Naelen was saying.

  “Even then, it doesn’t last very long,” Logan was saying. “She runs out of juice fast. I’m afraid of her continuing to use it. I don’t know what it’s taking out of her.”

  I groaned. “I have to use it. There’s no other way for us to get free.”

  “Excuse me,” said Naelen, “but you’re no good to us if you break the magic up and then pass out. Because while you’re unconscious, he can compel us all again.”

  I eyed Logan. “How are you? You got stabbed in the stomach.”

  “I’m healing,” he said.

  “Even you can’t heal that fast,” I said.

  “I’ll be all right,” said Logan. “Look, we managed to hide the existence of the monocle from Cunningham, but that can’t last forever.”

  “We’re screwed,” said Naelen. “Let’s just face it. We’re screwed.” He turned to Riley. “I’m sorry I got the two of you into this again.”

  “We owe you,” said Riley.

  “Yes,” said Ambrose. “I have wandered for years, unaware of my legacy, because my memory was taken from me. After my father died, my brother found me living on the streets, and my brother is compassionate and good, the way my father never was. You may have heard what he did to my mother, keeping her locked away while she went mad from wanting that damned cup.”

  “Yeah,” I said. But I was failing to understand what this had to do with anything.

  “Well, when Cunningham came, he restored my memories,” Ambrose said, “but I was trapped once again. I had
been trapped by what my father did to me, now I was trapped by Cunningham. You freed us.”

  “Well, not anymore,” I said. “You came back.”

  “True,” said Ambrose, “but we are in a better position than we were, now that you have this monocle. I have an idea of something that may help. You need sustenance and energy, correct?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “There is no greater source of such things than the blood of a dragon,” said Ambrose. “Cunningham knows this, and that is why he takes dragons as blood slaves.”

  “But he’s a vampire,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Ambrose. “To power yourself magically, you need magic in your body. You must consume magic, make it part of you, even if only temporarily.”

  “But…” I grimaced.

  “Dragon flesh would work as well,” said Ambrose. “But I think your friend here would be more comfortable letting you drink his blood than feeding you pieces of him.”

  I shuddered. And then I gagged. “He wouldn’t let me do either.”

  Naelen swallowed. “Well, if it will get us out of here, then I’ll do anything.”

  “I can’t… drink blood,” I said. “I can’t. That’s positively disgusting. I won’t.”

  Logan looked disgusted as well. But he turned to Ambrose. “You’re sure this will work?”

  Ambrose nodded. “Quite sure. I am only human, just as Clarke is. But I have consumed flesh or blood before to work my will in complicated spells. It is not a life I wish to return to, but it is the best way to make you strong and powerful.”

  “Okay, then,” said Naelen. “Let’s do it.”

  “How?” I said.

  “I’ll cut myself and you just… suck it out,” said Naelen. “I mean, not to sound dirty or anything.”

  I gagged again. “I can’t.”

  “You have to,” said Logan.

  Naelen nodded. He looked around. “Do we have anything sharp?”

  Logan held up the pocket knife. “Cunningham didn’t bother to take it from me. Guess he figured we’d be stuck up here.”

  “Why would he think that?” I said. “He must know that if I wake up, I can break through his magic?”

  “Well, he just compelled us to stay put and left us up here,” said Naelen, taking the pocket knife from Logan. “You know he’s an arrogant bastard.”