Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels)

by R. C. Murphy

  “I don’t give a damn. You know what Eros is like. His offspring are some of the few who enjoy being slaves. To think of that bastard touching Shayla, hurting her . . . .” A vivid image flashed through his mid, so clear he almost mistook it for an actual vision, instead of a version of what could have happened that his subconscious coughed up like phlegm.

  Wolfrik stepped between Deryck and the path he’d been eyeballing. “Eros isn’t your problem right now.”

  “You’re sorely fucking mistaken.”

  Big hands closed down on Deryck’s shoulders and shook him hard enough to bang his head against the fence. Wolfrik leaned in so close, Deryck smelled mint on his breath. “Herryk wants Shayla.”

  “He doesn’t even know she exists.”

  He shook his head. “Somehow, he rigged a spell to track you. Once he realized you’d been going to the human realm, he put the pieces together. Shayla is one of a dozen women alive at the moment capable of freeing one of us.”

  “Until tonight, I didn’t even know how to free myself. How the hell does he know?”

  Wolfrik pushed away from Deryck. His eyes dropped to the ground. “He’s seen it happen before, a long time ago.”

  “With who? Who’d be stupid enough to let that bastard into their business?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Wolfrik rolled his eyes to meet Deryck’s. “You must be the one Shayla frees. Once an incubus has been released from servitude, their sire is free to visit the human realm and create a new incubus to take his place. It is the universe’s way of maintaining balance.”

  The fence behind him caught Deryck’s weight as the strength drained out of his legs. “She can free any of us, then.”

  “Yes. However, the higher powers put you in her path. Shayla was picked to be yours.” Wolfrik gripped Deryck’s shoulder.

  He shrugged off the attempt at comfort. “The higher powers don’t give two shits about a bunch of half-breed mistakes. Our parents hid us in a chunk of unwanted land. They can’t stand to look at us; especially the wives they betrayed who wish we were dead. The powers, whoever they are, play their games with the universe and leave us to live as slaves without so much as a second thought.”

  Wolfrik yanked on the front of his shirt. “Who do you think provides for us? Our clothes, our food?”

  Deryck shook his head. “There’s no one. They just—“

  “Appear out of thin air? They have no corporeal form, Deryck. They’ve never been worshipped as the gods have. No human minds, no system of belief spanning centuries has molded their raw power into a shape. They simply are. And they’ve been cleaning up after the gods since the first took form along with the first humans capable of higher thought.”

  “That doesn’t explain anything. So they give me clothes and food. They put an intelligent, funny, gorgeous woman in my life—dangled the proverbial carrot in front of my nose—but why?”

  “They created the loophole to free our kind. It was the best they could do to help us after convincing the gods to spare our lives.”

  “And allow those same gods to create more of us. Min will be free to take advantage of another woman, like he did my mother.”

  Wolfrik gave a frustrated growl. “Everything is already in motion and you are ten steps behind. Yes, Min will sire another incubus after you are free. He is a world-class prick. But Herryk’s sire, Marduk, is power hungry. In his time, he did his damndest to control the world. With free access to the human realm after Herryk completes the ritual, he will destroy everything before he sires another incubus and is sent back to his realm.”

  “You can’t know what a god will do.” Even as he said it, he knew it was possible. If Marduk were anything like his son, he’d relish in the conquest of those below him.

  “No, I can’t. What I do know is Herryk doesn’t care about Shayla. He will kill her during the ritual, no question about it. There is no room for love in his quest for power.”

  A chill ran down Deryck’s spine. This he knew for certain would happen. Suddenly, Herryk’s absence at the evening meal made him increasingly worried. “He won’t get that far.”

  “Then you need to move quickly. Find Shayla. Tell her the truth, all of it, and pray she cares for you enough to see this through to the end. She is not safe until the ritual is completed.” Wolfrik slid a small scroll out of his jacket pocket. He grabbed Deryck’s hand and set it against his palm. Deryck’s fingers closed around it. “The ritual. Follow it carefully.”

  Deryck pulled the other man into a tight embrace. A tremor went down Wolfrik’s body, cranking his concern up another notch. “Thank you, old friend. I hope one day you find a way to be free from all of this.”

  A smile creased Wolfrik’s face, but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. Go find your Shayla.”

  Nodding, Deryck tucked the scroll into his pocket. His hand covered it protectively. He summoned his powers and sent a silent prayer that Shayla was at home, far away from Herryk and his insane schemes.

  Searing heat blazed over Shayla’s face and chest. Dark splotches danced over the orange light cast on the inside of her eyelids. Damn, that is really hot. Quickly following was the realization her arms hurt as much as the burning sensation across the bare section of her chest where her nightgown didn’t quite cover. If I get sunburned, I’ll have to live in sweaters for a month. It was the curse of being pale ten months out of the year.

  Shayla cracked her eyes open and immediately hated herself for it. Blinding hot sun forced her to close her eyes and roll over in bed onto her side. No, not bed. Her temple bumped something hard, definitely not a pillow unless she’d gone with the Flintstone model during her last shopping binge at the home store.

  Pain radiated from her shoulder. Her wrists echoed the agony. Shayla reached her left arm around to rub her eyes, but it wouldn’t budge from behind her. The pain flared. Bright bursts swam with dark spots against her eyelids. Look at the pretty fireworks. Shayla twisted her wrists and craned her neck behind her shoulder to look at them. Through her blurry vision, she saw bands of dark wrapped around her forearms. The binds were tight enough to keep her from moving too much, but not enough to cut the blood flow to her hands.

  She settled down on her side again and tried to shift her shoulder into a more comfortable position. There wasn’t any. No matter how she laid, it hurt. The sun burning her bare arms didn’t help matters, either. It felt as though she’d been dumped on an asteroid less than a mile from the sun and left to fry like a piece of fatty bacon.

  The spots in her vision faded. Finally, Shayla was able to see her surroundings. She was on the floor. A foot from her face sat a broken clay pot. Hints of paint decorated the dusty shards, but she couldn’t make out the images. Mud bricks were piled up beside the pot in a neat stack. The wall behind them bore a hole large enough for someone to go through, but they’d have to duck. The hole was maybe four feet high, but plenty wide.

  The wall around the opening was carved and painted. The images worn, faded from the centuries, though she had no way of telling exactly how old they were. Shayla tilted her head upright to study the carvings. She could barely make out what might be a man with something wrapped around his legs. The head of the creature butted against the gap in the wall. It looked vaguely like a dragon.

  Rolling onto her back a little, she squinted against the sunlight leaking through a series of cracks and holes in the ceiling. Dust motes danced through the bright beams daring to make their way into the darker corners of the room holding her. Shayla wished she’d been set in the gloomy corner opposite where she lay. The sun hurt. Her formerly new dress stuck to the sweat coating her skin. Dirt clung to every inch of exposed flesh, making her itch. Sweat dribbled off her cheek onto the ancient brick floor, making a mud puddle under her.

  Shayla shifted back to her side and rested her head on the floor. Her neck hurt from looking around. Bits and pieces of broken bricks bit into the fleshy part of her cheek. Tears welled in her eyes. They fell, taki
ng some of the grime coating her face with them.

  “About time you woke,” a voice said from behind. “Sometimes humans don’t react well to my spells. They’re too damn fragile. I don’t understand all of the concern over them. Then again, since the moment your cherry was popped, you weren’t entirely human.”

  Heart beating hard enough to make her chest hurt, Shayla slowly rolled to her other side. Pain ripped through her bound wrists and shoulders, but she moved anyway to meet the face of her abductor. A sharp, hot stream of agony in her left shoulder stole her breath and forced her to close her eyes. She’d felt this pain once before, when Cy had drank too much at his poker night and came home expecting her to have a late dinner on the table. He’d thrown her into the kitchen, dislocating her shoulder, and forced her to cook before he dropped her off outside of the emergency room.

  Abandoning the idea of laying on her side, Shayla rolled onto her stomach. Dirt billowed around her face, pushed into the air by her ragged breaths. She tried to control her breathing, using it to distract herself from the pain. It didn’t work. She was hurt, dirty, and so scared, she was certain whoever had taken her would kill her.

  A pair of shoes stepped into a beam of light on the far side of the room. Behind them was another opening in the wall, more like an actual door, but a portion of the bricks outlining the sides had crumbled and joined the filth lining the room’s floor.

  Wait, those shoes . . . . Shayla looked at the perfectly polished loafers and the cuff of the pants lying over the top half of the laces.

  “Harry?”

  “At least you didn’t suffer any brain damage during our trip.” He walked closer. Dust wafted into Shayla’s eyes, forcing her to close them. The toe of Harry’s shoe prodded her dislocated shoulder. Shayla screamed. He pushed against her ribs. “Shut up and get out of the god damned dirt. You have work to do.”

  It took a moment for the pain to subside enough for her to speak without the threat of vomiting. “I don’t understand.”

  Harry’s foot connected with her ribs, harder this time. The air she’d fought so hard to take in whooshed out of her lungs. “I’m not asking for you to understand why you’re here. I’m telling you to quit wallowing in filth and do what you were made to do.”

  Afraid if she didn’t move, he’d add broken ribs to her growing list of agony, Shayla carefully rolled onto her back. Using her right hand as best as she could, she struggled to push herself into a sitting position. She shuffled around, her feet dragging her backside in a circle to face Harry. “Where are we?”

  He gave a snort. “Did you study the Idiots Guide to Being Abducted? If I didn’t need you to speak, you wouldn’t be able to right now. Keep the questions to yourself.”

  Harry looped an arm around Shayla’s elbow and yanked her to her feet. She scrambled to keep her footing. Her shoulder screamed in agony. Her vision faded. Shayla doubled over, trying to catch her breath, and nearly face-plated in the dirt again.

  He caught her with a vice grip around her midsection and stood her upright. Dark eyes appraised her, much like a cattleman at auction looking for a new cow to add to his breeding lot. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” To be honest with herself, she knew walking was a serious maybe, possibly even a full out no after the last blow to her shoulder. Shayla’s knees shook, but she made a point of taking a step forward.

  Approval crossed Harry’s face. His hand connected with her ass, pushing her toward the hole in the wall where the dragon-like creature waited and watched. Shayla picked her way through the discarded bricks. She wasn’t exactly wearing the best shoes to explore ruins in. The two-inch heels were painful, even on short trips in and out of a restaurant. She hadn’t broken them in and the narrowed toes pinched, but they looked good.

  And they’ll look good on your corpse, a scared voice in her mind screamed. She shut a mental door on the voice and focused on walking.

  A wide hallway waited for them on the other side of the wall. Torches rested in clay sconces, dotting the walls with dancing orange flames. The carvings on these walls were better preserved. Bright splashes of blue and green-coated figures of men lined up and down the hallway. Their faces were darker, painted a faded brown. The areas of the mural that’s been painted red had washed out and looked like ancient blood soaked into the clay bricks. Maybe that’s what they used back then. A shudder ran through her body and she stepped away from the walls.

  The hallway sloped gradually downward. As they went, less and less sunlight leaked through the ceiling above. The temperature dropped, but not enough to sooth Shayla’s sun burnt and blistering skin. She wanted desperately to bathe in a pool of aloe gel.

  Shayla skirted around a hole in the floor. The heel of her right shoe caught the edge and sent her off balance. Her right shoulder slammed into the wall, sending new, brighter pain rocketing through her back and arms.

  “Knock it off, woman, and walk.” Harry glared at her; the torchlight was swallowed in the darkness of his eyes.

  “Yeah, I did that on purpose.” Shayla spat out dirt and sweat that’d dripped into her mouth. “I said, ‘Hey, self.’” She turned to the side. “’Yes, self?’ ‘You know what’d really make today top notch?’ ‘No, what?’ ‘A twisted ankle to go with the dislocated shoulder.’” She stopped and met his angry glare with one of her own.

  Harry’s hand flew through the twilight swallowing the hallway so quickly, she barely registered it was coming her way until it was too late. The back of his knuckles slammed into her jaw with enough force to send her reeling into the wall again. Her skull cracked against the rough bricks. Dust wafted down into her hair and sucked down into her lungs. Each and every single tooth in the right side of her face throbbed with its own beat. Blood trickled down her scalp from the crown of her head.

  “Say one more word and see what happens. I have had lifetimes to learn how to injure a person and leave them capable of opening their mouth when I want them to.”

  He’s serious. The look in Harry’s eyes stopped any and all smart-assed comments she could think of in their tracks. Shayla leaned against the wall. Her knees wouldn’t hold her any longer. The various pains in her body melded, robbing her of her strength.

  Harry closed in. Shayla flinched. He hauled her away from the wall. “Let’s get going. Time to meet my father.”

  Stooping down, he braced his shoulder against her midsection and stood. One hand held her in place by the back of her thighs. Suddenly the world was upside down. The walls bounced by with each long stride he took down the hall.

  A home didn’t feel like a home when one knew the person who by all rights should be there, wasn’t. The rooms became shrines to the owner—displaying everything they held dear in remembrance of those who’d treasured them. Walking through an empty house was an eerie experience. Deryck hated it. He wished he could hear the pit-pat of Shayla’s bare feet on the wooden floors. The sound of her rummaging through the kitchen for a snack. The vision of her curled up against the arm of the couch enjoying a film haunted him. It felt so real, he crossed the living room and tried to push her hair behind her ear. His hand hit nothing but air.

  Bone-deep exhaustion wrapped itself around Deryck. He sat down heavily on Shayla’s couch, making sure he hadn’t taken her spot in the corner. For the last three hours, he’d scoured the city, searching each and every place he knew Shayla had been since the day he met her. They hadn’t seen her at the Sweet Bean or Tea Haven. It was the same at the doughnut shop and the restaurant they were originally supposed to dine at. After each stop, he returned to her house, hoping and praying he’d see her car in the driveway. It didn’t happen. The car was missing as well as its owner.

  “Please, let her be safe.”

  After the first hour of searching, he’d broken down and called Faye. She didn’t sound completely happy to be bothered. Hormones, he’d reminded himself.

  “Faye, are you sure Shayla didn’t mention any plans for tonight?”

  “I’m not
her day planner or her nanny. She’ll call you when she wants to see you again, Deryck. Give it a rest.”

  “She’s not answering her phone.”

  Faye paused then. Deryck paced in front of the café, raking a hand through his hair. Anyone passing by had noted his agitation and gave wide berth.

  “Maybe she put it on silent and it fell to the bottom of her purse.” A note of worry crept into her voice. “If I hear from her, I’ll have her call. I need to go.”

  She hadn’t called back.

  Deryck rose from the couch in Shayla’s living room. His eyes bounced around, looking for anything that’d give him a clue as to where to find her. He’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to track her with the faint bond they’d formed thanks to the higher powers. There was nothing. No sensation of her presence, or anything on the small table in front of the couch to point him in the right direction.

  Feeling guilty, but desperate for answers, Deryck walked down the hall and stopped at the last door. It was open, giving him a view of Shayla’s hastily made bed. The nightstand beside it held a clock, lamp, and large paperback book—The Lord of the Rings. Deryck walked his fingertips over the worn book cover. He made a note to pick up a copy of the novel at some point. If they survived the threat Herryk posed.

  There was nothing in her bedroom. Deryck left her private space the second he was done searching for clues. He headed back down the hall to the kitchen. He’d seen her phone in there the night before. Maybe she’d left it on the counter.

  He rounded the corner and shook his head. No cell phone. No computer that he could find, either, to check through. Deryck had picked up a few things about the devices from watching people at the coffee shop who set up camp in a chair or at a table and poked away at their computers for hours on end, only stopping to refill their cups and relieve their bladders.