Lychos

by Larsen, Patti

  Jean Marc leans over me, teeth flashing as he grins.

  “Just like old times,” he says.

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen

  A hand reaches through the dark and pushes Jean Marc back. I turn to see Rupe hovering over me, scowling at the older of the Dumont brothers.

  “She’s not yours yet,” he snaps. “Remember who your real master is, boy.”

  Jean Marc’s scowl offers a fraction of satisfaction, enough I’m able to pull myself together. I feel Sage with me, can smell him now I’m not panicking anymore. At least we’re still together. I glare at Rupe who looks down at me with a false smile. There was a time he was friends with Syd, when the two of them trusted each other. But when the Brotherhood turned him, exposed his sorcery, he turned on Syd and everything she stands for.

  “Now,” he says, “you’ve led me on quite a chase, Charlotte. You and your little friend, here.” I hear Sage groan and know he’s coming to. We have to find a way to communicate so we can escape. It’s dark out, so I worry Femke isn’t even aware we’re gone and won’t be until late tomorrow morning. It would be like her to let us sleep in. So we’re on our own and without the means to communicate mentally.

  I never thought I’d miss the ability to get into someone else’s mind.

  “We know what you’re doing,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and calm. “Why you want him.”

  “Oh, really?” Rupe’s grin is feral. “Do fill me in.”

  “Just kill her.” Andre’s voice comes from the driver’s seat. I catch a glimpse of him past Rupe, a streetlight casting illumination over the side of his face. It’s in ruins still, slick and weeping, the slashing cuts I gave him reinforced with magic to ensure they never healed properly. I bare my own teeth and snap them together at the Dumont coven leader.

  “Don’t be silly,” Rupe says, as though Andre’s a complete idiot. “We need her as a bargaining chip. Just in case something happens with Caine and the others.” He pats my cheek. “I want to make sure I have a replacement if he tries to cross me. And who better than the beloved wereprincess Sharlotta Moreau?”

  I kick out at him but he’s faster, turning to look down at something behind me. I can only guess it’s Sage. “I think I have you to thank for my latest experiment’s success,” Rupe says. “All the others were dismal failures. But for some reason, this one worked out perfectly.”

  He doesn’t know why Sage is different and I want it to stay that way. If Rupe touches my love, controlled or not, I’ll tear him apart.

  “Maybe that was the problem,” Rupe says, stroking his chin like a bad super villain in a Hollywood B movie. “The samples I made had no support, no one to emulate.”

  Let him stay in the dark long enough to defeat him. “The revenants,” I snarl, “the innocent people you infected, suffered and died because you’re a failure.”

  He lashes out at me, almost casually, with sorcery. It’s his power controlling me and I suddenly can’t breathe, the blackness pressing down on my chest, forcing air from my lungs, crushing my ribcage. Darkness closes in while I gasp for air, trying even with tied hands to claw at my throat and chest, knowing this is the end if he miscalculates even a hair’s breadth.

  When he finally releases me, I gag on the rush of oxygen, gulping it like icy water down my parched throat.

  “Regardless,” Rupe goes on as though he didn’t almost kill me, “I must study this latest attempt and uncover the means to recreate him.” He grins at me. “Since you know all this already,” he says, “do tell, what is my purpose?”

  “A werearmy,” I say, and from his knee-jerk reaction of anger, I know I’ve hit the truth after all.

  “How could you possibly—” Rupe cuts off, anger fading as he laughs. “Good guess,” he says. “But correct. The controls the Black Soul sect had over you were far too easy to break.” His sorcery pushes down on me again and I struggle not to panic. “Mine won’t be quite so fragile. They grew weak and arrogant in their possession. I will never make that mistake. Werewolves are dangerous animals, after all.” His eyes glitter with an eager need, probably to hurt me further, to prod me into giving him a reason.

  I shrug as best I can despite my bonds, focusing on staying present and calm. “We figured once Belaisle gave you the boot for being a useless nit, you had to try something. And emulating your master’s success had to be at the top of your list.” I’m feeling reckless, though baiting him could mean my death. But I’m reasonably certain his need to keep me alive is stronger than his temper, and I’ve been tortured before.

  Rupe doesn’t strike out at me this time, though his narrowed eyes and the way he gnaws on his fingernails answers all of the questions I’ve had all along. Tallah and her agile mind managed to uncover the truth of the matter. Though I regret Belaisle is still alive and Rupe didn’t kill him for his position after all, at least I now have confirmation of the split in the remains of the Brotherhood ranks.

  Rupe’s next emotionally charged statement reinforces my thoughts. “I’ll show him,” he snarls, though I know his words aren’t aimed at me. “He thinks his are the only plans that can bring results. When he is faced with my army of super werewolves, he will fall on his knees at my feet and beg my forgiveness.”

  There is no question in my mind who “he” might be.

  “I’m sure he will,” I murmur. “That is, if I don’t kill you, first.”

  This time it’s Jean Marc who kicks me, his boot planting in my ribs and carrying me off the ground to slam against the far wall of the van. I feel Sage pressed behind me, register he’s stirring, about a heartbeat before his body tenses.

  And all hell breaks loose.

  I feel his power surge and realize, probably around the same moment Rupe does, Sage isn’t under sorcerous control. In fact, he’s free, his magic massive and violent. But the power Rupe is using to keep me in his grasp still affects Sage, but in a way none of us expect.

  Even through the block in my power, I sense the madness in Sage. The dark sorcery has driven him insane, even as it’s fed his magic. Sage lurches to his feet, hunched over me, lashing out at the Dumont brothers while Rupe falls back with a cry. I spin, trying to reach Sage, while he throws his rage at the back doors of the van.

  I can’t let him go, not alone, not in this state. He’s already transforming, a full wolf when he leaps out the back of the vehicle and into the darkness, his humanity crushed by the sorcerous blocks keeping his power hobbled. My caged magic batters against the restraints Rupe has place on me, fighting with everything I have to go after Sage.

  Only to be jerked back away from the open doors and pulled bodily up into Rupe’s enraged face.

  “How is that possible?” Spittle strikes my cheeks, my lips as his red face hovers barely an inch from mine, eyes bulging in fury. “He shouldn’t be able to do that.” Rupe drops me, suddenly afraid, though he covers it with more anger as Kristophe groans beside him. Andre pulls over with a squeal of tires that ends in a crunch of gravel and turns to glare at Rupe.

  “We have to go after him.” Darkness hides the mess I’ve made of his face.

  “Of course we don’t,” Rupe snaps. His eyes settle on me. “We have her.”

  They want to use me as bait? They’ll have to kill me first. I kick out, shoving myself toward the still-open doors, not sure how I’m going to escape, but knowing I have to find Sage before they do.

  A sharp pinpoint of pain and the darkness returns all over again.

  ***

  This time, when I wake, I recognize the scent of straw, the feel of cold stone under my body. I’m half naked, jeans torn away, t-shirt gone, only my bra and underwear remaining. My hands are unbound, at least, feet free, but I’m groggy, disoriented, the world wavering around me as I try to focus.

  “You made a mistake,” Andre’s voice reaches me and I whimper despite myself. He ignores me, focusing on what he’s saying as my eyes adjust, no longer seeing double, trying to pull together the vision of the
small, stone room, the slit of bars in a high-placed single window, the heavy steel door that is the only exit. Rupe stands at my feet, glaring down at me.

  “He’s never been controlled,” Rupe says, words sharp with anger. “That has to be the difference.”

  Andre’s good side is to me, hiding the ruin I made of his face. “There were no old pathways for your sorcery to inhabit.”

  Rupe nods once, irritation obvious. He doesn’t want to have to confide in Andre, I’m guessing, sees the other man as beneath him. And yet, he’s chosen his bedfellows. They deserve each other.

  “So he’s at full power still,” Rupe says. “But his mind is mine.”

  “If it was,” Andre snaps, “he’d be here now.”

  Rupe turns on him, sorcery slamming Andre into the stone wall so hard I hear the older man grunt. “I’ll figure it out,” he says. “Copy her pathways into him.” He points at me with one vibrating finger. “Something. In the meantime, keep her alive.”

  Andre half-turns his head toward me when Rupe releases him. “I can do alive,” he says. “As long as that’s all that matters?”

  Rupe shrugs, turning his back on me. “Don’t disappoint me, Andre.”

  The Dumont leader snarls at the door as Rupe slams it shut behind him. He stares down at me, a thin strand of light coming in through the slots of the window lighting the sliced ribbons of skin on his face. He crosses past my feet as he speaks, heading for a small table propped up in the far corner.

  “He’s a fool,” Andre says, the sound of clanking raising goosebumps on my skin. I know that sound, the flap of leather, the whisper of steel being drawn from a pouch. His implements. He’s brought them with him. I know them all intimately, the edges and points and dull surfaces meant to crush and maim. “Underestimated his own cleverness and left himself open to failure.” Andre turns to me, a shining spike in one hand, a curved blade in the other. I’ve been cut and stabbed and probed with both. The memory of the pain is almost more than I can stand and I have to dig deep inside me to find the courage to hold still and not show him fear. “Typical sorcerer arrogance. I won’t make his mistake.” He prods me with one shoe, still dressed in a suit, shining toe the finest leather brought to a high sheen. Andre crouches beside me, setting the tools down in the straw before shucking off his jacket and setting it aside, rolling up his sleeves while his pale blue eyes never leave mine. I shiver at the sight of his face, the four deep grooves crusted with old pus and raw from infection. “Try to fight me, Charlotte,” Andre whispers, the scent of sandalwood and vanilla making the girl inside me weep. “Please, just try.”

  ***

  Chapter Sixteen

  There is a method to torture, the drawing out and elongation of time and agony, maximizing the amount of pain for a subject and the equal amount of pleasure for the torturer. Andre is, and always has been, a master. Even when I was a girl and he was much younger, he had a particular knack for inflicting torment. I was only a child, but he knew exactly how far he could push me and my tiny body, how much the wolf could heal, though he would test those limits over and over again.

  It had been years since Andre had me in his grasp, years since I felt the misery of his attentions. And he’d grown even more skilled. The blades slid with feather precision under my skin, the sharp barbs between my toes penetrating past the knuckles and into firm muscle. Every cracked bone is strained in such a way my wolf can heal it within hours, each sliced piece of flesh already sealing when he starts on the next.

  “Werewolves,” he pants, his sick passion rising to flavor his natural scent with harsher tones of musk as he embeds a silver spike slowly through the soft skin between my shoulder and my collarbone, “are the perfect toys. And you, my dear,” he bends to lick the side of my face as I fight the need to scream my agony into the dark room, “are the finest I’ve ever played with.” He breathes on me, body vibrating with need. I know what comes next as he embeds the spike into the ground beneath me, pinning me to the floor. His hands fumble almost clumsily with the knife as he cuts open my bra, exposing me to him. Icy eyes travel down to my waist as he jerks free the shredded fabric of my underwear. I can’t let him see my fear, my pain. I must endure this as I always have.

  A tiny whimper escapes me, though I fight it. It only seems to fuel Andre’s lust, as fear always has. His hands undo his belt, his button, the zipper on his pants as I sink into a place where I can be dispassionate and not care about what his body is about to do to mine. I stare up at his hideous face, once handsome, and focus all of my attention on not breaking. On staying Charlotte, intact, unreachable. He can do what he wants to my flesh, but my heart and soul belong to me.

  I used to close my eyes, turn my head, try to go somewhere else when he raped me. I truly believe doing so saved me, kept me sane and unbroken. But this time, I refuse even that refuge, staring him down, pinned by his tools with my blood running from my body into the straw beneath me. I will not allow him his pleasure without a window into how much I despise and reject him.

  His face flinches, anger rising as he settles between my legs. What was once hard softens almost immediately, unable to do its job in the face of my defiance. Andre grunts as he thrusts at me, but we both know it’s too late. He’s done, gone limp and I laugh in his face as his scowl turns to fear.

  The laugh is a mistake, maybe, but I can’t help it. He lashes at me, but I lunge forward against the power he uses to hold me still, pulling at the spike in my shoulder. He’s distracted enough it works, and I’m free. Blood gushes from the wound as my teeth sink into the flesh of his healthy cheek and bite deep. Andre screams, shoving me back and I taste coppery heat when I let him go. He clutches at the fresh damage, staggering to his feet with his pants around his ankles, blood rushing between his fingers.

  I laugh again, at how ridiculous his tiny little package looks dangling between his legs, so useless. “What’s the matter, Andre?” My voice cracks and warbles, harsh in my ears. “Little girls the only ones who do it for you?”

  He tries to kick me, but trips over his dropped pants and stumbles sideways, magic controls weaker than ever. I lie back, drained from blood loss, body freed to move. I jerk loose the spike of steel and throw it at him. It clatters in the straw, lost in the dark corner, while his magic pins me down and tightens around my throat.

  If I die here, I die. I can’t trust him not to kill me, despite Rupe’s orders. My only regret is Sage and not being able to save him. That and my grandfather, who stood up for me in the end, but was no match for a sorcerer’s dishonorable ambition.

  As I pass out from the lack of oxygen, I hold both of their dear faces in my mind, and send them love though I know they will never receive it.

  ***

  I cough, water streaming over my face, turning on my side away from the steady stream. My shoulder still aches, so it can’t be long past the time I pulled free the spike. My wolf must be hard at work trying to heal me.

  “I told you,” Rupe is screaming at Andre, “to keep her alive!”

  I look up, find Jean Marc standing over me with a pitcher of water. He pours more from a few feet up, aiming at my mouth, I can only guess. I catch a few priceless drops as he sloshes it over my naked body, making me chase it to get a drink. When I’m done, I flip over onto my back and see Andre pressing a bandage to his cheek. He’s at least managed to pull his pants up, though his shirt is still untucked, the belt undone and dangling.

  “The bitch bit me,” Andre snarls.

  “Then don’t get close enough to her to let it happen again.” Rupe’s anger fades, his power swirling around him at his feet like a puddle of pure shadow. “If you kill her, I will kill you and your two precious children. Do you understand?”

  Andre just grunts.

  “We are still tracking her little playmate,” Rupe says with exaggerated slowness, as though Andre is too stupid to understand otherwise. “He followed us here and hasn’t left the area, but we can’t catch him if she’s dead.”

 
Sage is here? I throw my mind after him, knowing the likelihood of reaching him is slim to none, not with Rupe’s controls over me. But I feel my love, regardless, like a far distant memory, the faintest trace of him.

  And what I feel… makes me want to weep. Sage is gone. At last they’ve managed to ruin him. The man I loved doesn’t exist in the mind I reach. He’s devolving, maybe just to an animal, to the wolf whose shape he wears. But there is a darkness in him that makes me afraid.

  He’s becoming a true revenant after all.

  I have to help him, put a stop to this. They can do what they want with me, but I must save Sage. Desperation drives me deeper, clutching at my power like a child holding a precious toy and I push all of what I have into a plea to the dark.

  SYD!

  Nothing. Not a hint or a whisper of her. She’s too far, or not here on this plane. Rupe turns toward me with a grimace, but it’s part smile, even as his power tightens inside me.

  “Clever,” he says. “But you’re not strong enough, Charlotte.” He gestures at Andre. “I want her too weak to fight. But alive.” He stresses the word one last time.

  This time, when Rupe leaves and Andre turns toward me, I feel overwhelming fear surge, uncontrollable. But not for me. For Sage.

  I’ve failed him, in the end. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next time I wake, I’m groggy and can’t feel my legs. It takes me some time to come fully to, to allow my wolf to heal me while I fight my patience and the need to weep and scream my rage and frustration into the empty room.

  Andre took his time, with Jean Marc watching from the corner. The first light of day shone through the bars before I passed out this round. The last thing I saw was a sharp blade penetrating my abdomen, driving me, finally, into the quiet of unconsciousness.