I step into the shadowy room after Jaxon, and stop short in my tracks. The wheezing and whimpering is louder and clearer now. I glimpse a jerking figure in the middle of the room. The swaying, twisting figure is gasping and coughing, and sputtering unintelligible words.
I force myself not to back away as I raise my gun. “Jaxon...” I stammer. “W-where...”
The sharp click of a flashlight.
I squint and see Jaxon standing to the side, training a flashlight at that swaying, spluttering figure in the middle of the room.
“That's...the Emperor!” I gasp.
The Emperor is tied to a chair, facing a camera, his mouth moving as blood trickles from his eyes, nose, ears and mouth. His gilded royal garb is stained red, with blood pooling at his bare feet. I stare at him, at the camera in front of him, at the finery and jewels glittering on his dying body, at the thick rope coiled around his torso like a devouring snake.
As his hand jerks up in a spasm, I recall that video image of him. His hand had moved up only to his cheek, no higher. He couldn't salute properly, because he was already tied up. Tied up, forced to record that last message as a diversionary tactic, and left to die while the Empress made her escape.
Used and discarded.
Taunted, tortured and destroyed.
Lowering my gun, I take a shaky step forward. Jaxon holds the flashlight steady, shining the harsh light pitilessly at the Emperor. His body is tensed, his eyes alert, his gun ready to fire at anyone charging through the door behind me. But he doesn't stop me from doing what I have come to do.
A moan gurgles from the Emperor throat, and more blood spurts from his mouth. He bares his blood-stained teeth in a grimace, a grotesque parody of a grin.
“Your Majesty,” I say, my voice low but steady.
“Huh? Wha—? Who's there?” he gasps. “Help...help me...”
“Do you remember me, Your Majesty?” I take another step closer. “I'm Zoey, Zoey Whard.”
“I d-don't know you! I...I don't know anything.” Spurred by pain and panic, the Emperor rasps and twists feebly in his ropes in a last, desperate spurt of strength. “Go away! H-help me! Save me! Help! Guards!” He chokes and begins to cry. “H-help...it...hurts...”
Convulsions rack his body as he coughs violently, splattering blood over my boots. “H-help m-me...please...” he whimpers, his eyes rolling back in his head.
I stare at the blood flowing unstoppably from all his orifices, at his jerking, dying body, at the face of a man in excruciating agony. I don't know how long he has been sitting here, bleeding out his life, suffering horribly in this dank, forsaken bunker, alone, abandoned, betrayed.
“Help you,” I say numbly. “Did you help any of the Sirens when they begged for their lives in your bed? Did you help them as they were being bitten and devoured by your pet snakes? Did you help them, Your Majesty?”
“Help...help...” the Emperor intones, his head lolling on his shoulders. His eyes start rolling back before suddenly snapping back to focus. He stares at me, his bloodshot eyes widening and bulging.
“I know you!” he rasps. “You...and him!” He turns his head in Jaxon's direction, but with the light in his eyes, he can only squint and squirm as he tries in vain to see Jaxon's face in the shadows. “Commander Ryleth, I know you!” the Emperor calls out happily. “You are my best Commander! Have I ever told you that?”
Jaxon remains silent. Watchful.
I can feel Jaxon's eyes on me, despite the Emperor taunting and baiting him with vulgar jocularity.
Jaxon nods at me. Do what you have to do.
I take a small step forward. The Emperor turns suddenly towards me, his eyes wet as he stops howling at his own crass jokes. “Traitor!” he sings over his shoulder at Jaxon. “Commander Ryleth is a traitor, a dead man. He tried to kill me. Did you know that?” The Emperor smirks at me. “He charged into my chambers and tried to kill me. And then...he escaped, with my whore!” He laughs uproariously. “Can you believe that my Commander tried to kill his Emperor, all because of a common whore? A Siren that I picked off the streets? Crazy, right? But you know what is even crazier? My Empress, my dear sweet, filthy Empress, made me drink that...that...elixir! The Elixir, she said, of Eternity.” He mimics the Empress's voice, and wriggles his fingers contemptuously. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“I drank it,” the Emperor deadpans. “Oh, I drank every drop of it. And see what it's done to me.”
He laughs sadly, bitterly. “I know, I know. I deserve it. I should have killed that scheming bitch when I had the chance.”
His head jerks back suddenly as he labors for breath. Blood vessels burst in his eyes and bloody tears track down his face. He is bleeding to death internally. His lungs are beginning to fill with his own blood, drowning him.
In a sudden moment of clarity, the Emperor raises his head to look straight at me.
“Zoey Whard. End this.”
His eyes glaze over but still he fixes his bloody, unseeing eyes on me.
“End this,” he whispers, his face no longer contorted in pain. “Kill me.” Slowly, he raises his hand in that stiff, twitching salute.
His last words are clear and strong.
His lips curve upwards as I raise my gun.
Without blinking, I squeeze the trigger.
CHAPTER TWENTY
We have been in hiding for about a week, shuttling from bunker to cave, scavenging in the woods and keeping to the shadows. Jaxon stays by my side, making sure I have enough to eat and drink, and watches over me for the few hours that I manage to sleep each night.
I'd thought that I would feel vindicated, avenged, alive, when I shot that one bullet unflinchingly, unerringly into the Emperor's head. Wasn't that what I wanted to do for so long? Hadn't I dreamed of that moment, when I could finally have my revenge?
Hadn't I just killed my most hated enemy? A monster?
But the man I saw in that putrid bunker, tied to a chair and bleeding out his poisoned life alone in the dark, half blind and mad from terror and agony, is not the monster I remembered.
His pain, his fear and immense suffering, even though deserved, had been real. Raw, stark and terrible. The thing I had killed in that bunker was not a monster, but a shadow.
His death didn't make me feel alive. It made me feel dead.
Dead and empty.
Jaxon had to pry the gun out of my frozen fingers and hold me for a long time after I put a hole in the middle of the Emperor's forehead. He hugged me and spoke to me in low, quiet tones but I didn't hear a single word he said. All I heard in that timeless void was the Emperor's last words: Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
I can still smell the stench of his poisoned blood, and see his rolling, soulless eyes as blood oozed from the corners of his eyes, creating the illusion that he was crying tears of blood. But the Emperor wasn't crying. He didn't weep for any of his victims. He shed not a tear for all the Sirens and Slaves and innocent lives that he had brutally taken. There was no remorse, no guilt, no regret, even as he breathed his last. If he cried, it was only for himself. Out of pain and anger, at the betrayal of his Empress and his Generals.
I know that and yet...the sense of victory and justice and honor that I had thought would come with his death eludes me. I just feel sick and tired, and I don't want to keep fighting.
But I'm the only one who feels drained and empty, rather than euphoric, at the Emperor's death. As news of the Emperor's death spreads through the States, morale soars among the rebels. They fight with renewed courage and hope, pushing back and running the disheartened Imperial soldiers to ground. Commanders are captured or killed, and troops start surrendering.
Jaxon has been keeping track of the rebels' progress through radio transmissions and intercepted messages on the watch. “Go,” I tell him more than once. “Go. Fight.”
His reply is always the same. “They don't need me. You do.” But Jaxon is a leader, a soldier, a fighter. Even though he remains by my sid
e, he keeps close contact with some rebel leaders and soldiers, speaking and messaging them through that dead soldier's watch. Jaxon has been an honorable Commander and a trusted resistance leader. Many soldiers remain loyal to him, and rebel leaders from other cells know and respect him.
I listen intermittently to the transmission, and I know that victory is imminent. The Unified States is unified no more. The states had been unified by blood, and they are now freed by blood. One by one, the rebel army takes back the various states, releasing them from the yoke of the Imperial Army. The people celebrate with wild abandon as the states regain their freedom and independence.
The nightmare is over. I should wake to a new dawn, yet when I open my eyes, it is still night.
I sit up and lean against the smooth cave wall, watching the shadows dance at the mouth of the cave. The wind whispers through the grass and leaves, rustling them, nudging them awake.
I look around. Where is Jaxon? He has probably gone out to search for food and water. He usually leaves only after he thinks that I am fast asleep.
The rustling grows louder, and rushing footsteps and panting reach my ears. I stare at the cave opening, inching instinctively into the shadows. A figure ducks into the cave, and I exhale in relief. Before I can utter a sound, Jaxon scrambles to me and thrusts the watch in my face.
“Here! Listen! Listen to this!” he pants, as he fights to silence his breathing.
A solemn voice is droning from the watch.
Our heads bent low, we stare at the screen of the watch which flickers with static as a male voice continues reading the announcement: “...following their capture and trial. They have been found guilty and sentenced to death. Binison Lay, former Executive Minister of the Unified States, Faylen Day, former General of the Imperial Army will be executed, together with three former Commanders of the Imperial Army: Zik Anarr, Tobimen Jaz and Rikk Yoman. In accordance with the new law, they will be executed twenty-four hours after their sentence. The execution will be carried out tomorrow at noon, and will be broadcast to all in front of the Justice Prison in the Central City.”
At the end of the announcement, I blink and look up at Jaxon, but my grip remains on his wrist. My cold, trembling fist remains on his wrist like a vice.
I force myself to breathe, taking sharp, ragged breaths so that I don't pass out.
When I can finally trust my voice not to quaver and crack, I turn to Jaxon and say, “We have to go.”
Jaxon studies me intently for a moment, and says quietly, “I have been asked to witness, to assist in the executions, but I told them...”
“Then you should,” I tell him firmly. “You must.”
“But...can you...?” he begins slowly.
I straighten up. “Yes. Yes!”
He nods, turning the watch over absently in his hand. “They hope to lure the rest out by broadcasting these executions,” he murmurs.
“The rest?”
“Yes.” He turns to me. “They are after the Empress. But no one knows where she is. Or no one would say.”
“I think...someone knows.”
Jaxon blows out a breath. He knows who I am talking about. “But no one knows where Owen Vesparr is right now.”
“He was the favorite of the Empress. Her favorite sex Slave. She may send for him again. Or he may look for her.” Hopefully. And give up his hunt for me.
“If Owen is found, you do know that...”
“...that he'd be executed? Yes. I know.”
But I know that Owen won't allow himself to be captured alive.
I shake my head to clear it, refusing to think of Owen. “We have to leave. There is no time. I have already wasted enough time, moping around for nights and days. The execution is at noon, and you, you have to be there before noon. But—” I stop and frown. “How are we going to...”
“I managed to get my hands on a motorcraft,” he says. “It's hidden not far from here.”
I stare at him. Jaxon, always ready, always looking out for me, protecting me. While I had been near catatonic after shooting the Emperor, Jaxon had been quietly and efficiently making sure that we are safe, prepared, equipped with everything necessary for our survival.
Food and water—check.
Shelter—check.
Means of communication—check.
Means of transportation—check.
Jaxon should be in the Central City right now. This fight is his. He has been helping the resistance even while he was a Commander in the Imperial Army. He did it, fought for what he thought was right, at great risk and danger to himself. Jaxon will always stand up for what is right, even if he gets shot for it. I saw him do it ten years ago, when he was a young teenage soldier. And I know I will see him do it again. This is who he is, the man I love.
And I know that he is more than ready to see this fight through. Only very skilled and trusted resistance fighters are called upon to assist and witness the execution. The execution will be broadcast to all, but only a few will be present at the actual execution grounds. The execution must be carried out properly, fairly, humanely. This is a message, to the enemy and to the people. With the execution of these key officials, it signals the death of an era of terror and oppression. The states are free, and must remain free. There must be justice, freedom, equality, pillars upon which to rebuild the shattered states.
It's time.
“Once we reach the Central City, will they...arrest me? Prosecute me?” I swallow hard. “I shot the Emperor. I should have just...”
“No. He would have died anyway. The poison that he had been forced to take would ensure that he died a horrible, excruciating death. He would have bled through his eyes, nose, mouth, lungs, slowly going blind, choking and drowning in his own blood. Even if you didn't shoot him, he would have died. You gave him an early, quick release, something he did not deserve.”
Bowing my head, I step into his embrace, and circle him tightly with my arms. “Promise me that after this, when all of this is over, you won't fight anymore. Promise me that you won't go after him,” I whisper.
Jaxon looks into my eyes and says, “I won't hunt Owen Vesparr down, even though he is a criminal. If he leaves you alone, I won't go after him. Though I can't promise that others won't be looking for him. But—if he ever comes near you again, I—will—kill—him.” His eyes blaze at his deadly promise.
I close my eyes and nod against his chest. “Will you be able to find Dr. Rolin?” I ask quietly.
“Yes. I think I can find that weasel easy enough. I'll make him undo what he did to you. And I'm sure you're not the only one. I'm sure he injected many other Slaves and Sirens with that serum as well. Once we find him, and the other doctors who concocted and administered this serum, we can get the surviving Slaves and Sirens to come forward. They deserve to have a chance to rebuild their lives and build a family for themselves.” Jaxon brushes a strand of hair from my face. “We'll have a family. You—are my family, my love, my life,” he says softly.
I smile up at him as he kisses my forehead. “Did you know—” I say coyly. “—that you have been my hero since I was eight?”
His brown eyes crinkle in amusement and happiness. “I hope—I'll certainly try—to be your hero for life.”
We kiss for a long while before I mutter against his lips, “Shouldn't we get going?”
“Yeah. But I want to kiss you some more.”
I lean in and give him a big, noisy, wet kiss. “All right, that's all you'll be getting for now, lover boy. Let's get you to the Central City.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The motorcraft that Jaxon has so carefully stowed away in another small cave brings us right into the heart of the Central City in a few hours. Traveling through the night, we reach just before daybreak.
The rebel leaders have already been notified of Jaxon's arrival. They meet us at the appointed place and time, and speak in hushed, urgent tones to Jaxon once we disembark.
Glances and frowns are thrown my way as they hu
ddle together, their voices gradually rising. Finally, Jaxon breaks away from the group and strides towards me with quick, grim steps.
“The execution time has been brought forward,” Jaxon tells me quietly. “The prisoners are scheduled to be executed...in one hour's time. I have to go. The execution will be broadcast on that large screen in the city square, just in front of the Justice Prison. Will you be all right?”
“Of course. Don't worry. I'll make my way to the square.”
He nods distractedly, and go back to the others. I watch him speak rapidly to the other leaders, and there is some head-shaking and hand-waving. Finally, one of the leaders, a dark-haired woman in her early to mid thirties, detaches herself from the group and approaches me. “Zoey Whard?”
I nod, releasing a shaky breath.
“I'm Lyndea.” She gives a quick, curt smile. “Jaxon insists that one of us should stay by your side. I'm it. If you'll come with me,” she says, inclining her head.
Wordlessly, I follow her. If I protest and insist that I don't need an escort, Jaxon would just be worrying about me when he should be concentrating on his task. I might be a tad peeved that he thinks I need to be babysat, but—I realize that my shutting down and shutting everything and everyone out in the days and nights following the Emperor's gory death has worried and frightened him. He was worried that I would lose my mind, and he would lose me.
Lyndea leads me into an alleyway, and we walk between two tall buildings and emerge on a dirty sidewalk opposite the Justice Prison. I stare up at the prison walls and the rusty, barred windows.
This is the oldest prison in the Central City, where the most dangerous and notorious criminals are kept. Many of the inmates in the Justice Prison have been in there for decades.
We make our way to the front of the Justice Prison. A large screen is mounted on two tall poles, spreading across the entire stony facade of the Justice Prison. I turn from the screen to stare at the large, rippling crowd gathered in front of the screen. The sea of angry, tired, sad, silent faces spread far beyond the Justice Square. There is no joy on the faces of all these people who have turned up to watch the execution of their former tormentors and oppressors. They simply wait in silence, remembering their dead and trying not to remember their own terrible suffering.
Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series) Page 15