Letting go of the bars of the cage, Duvessa drew herself up to her full height. “I needed heirs. I wanted to breed.”
“To breed?”
“It’s an idiotic question, August. Naturally, if I’d known any full-blooded fae, that was where my interest would have gone. You know I didn’t know how to get to the fae realm. I knew only half-fae.”
“So?”
“So, your father was eager, he pursued me, he had more money than most men I knew. I figured he’d used magic to acquire it, that he must be more of a dark fae than he let on. How wrong I was. Only after we were wed did I realize that he was truly weak. That he worked in drudgery like a mortal to acquire wealth.”
August’s lip curled. “The ways you acquire wealth are weak and disgusting. I’ve been inside that casino of yours.”
Duvessa smiled. “Glamorous, isn’t it?”
“Attraction spells to draw people to the slot machines, to the roulette table. I could smell the manipulative magic you use. Nothing about that place is natural. You enslave people in there. You ruin their lives.”
“Most human beings and dark fae use what gifts they’ve been given in life to their own benefit, August. But not the light fae.” Duvessa’s lips thinned. “You are a bunch of fools. Did I need a fool for a daughter? This is exactly why I had to kill your fae power. By the time you were eight or nine, I realized you had chosen the light path, that in time you would be called to be a Warrior of the Light and want to help stupid mortals, and just fuck everything up. You would have ruined my life. We would have been poor.”
“We could have lived off the money Dad made and been more than comfortable. He earned a good living.”
“Ugh. Your father spent all those hours selling real estate, stupid mortal drudgery. He had no time to be my lover or to do anything fun with me. Seriously, he was better off dead. I was so bored.”
August bit her lip. There was no use rising to this bait. At times, her mother could be as immature and as callous as an Internet troll. She was enjoying her daughter’s outrage, provoking it, poking at it. So, August kept her voice deliberately calm for her next question. “You still haven’t answered my first question, Mother. Why did you kidnap us?”
“And you still haven’t answered my question, daughter. Why did you suppress your magic all these years?”
“I didn’t. You…”
Duvessa smirked, and August mentally kicked herself.
…damaged my self-esteem so I wouldn’t be able to perform magic. She didn’t need to say it. It stood in the air between them.
“I made the right choices for our family, August. We’re close to being wealthy enough to have whatever we want, but we could be wealthier and more powerful still. You just need to work with me. If you would consider…”
The whimpering in the opposite cage grew a little louder. She realized how much the conversation must be scaring the teenager. She swallowed. Guilt at her thoughtlessness for scaring the kid even further washed over her. She pointed to the cage. “Who is that young man?”
Duvessa glanced over at the cage. “Oh, him. I believe his name is Johan.” Johan’s sobs now seemed to have doubled him over like punches, and he collapsed in a heap.
“Mother, what the hell are you doing? He looks maybe seventeen? Why are you kidnapping people?”
Duvessa glanced over at the boy. “Oh no. Johan is twenty-one. He just has a youthful face. Must be one of the advantages of being pure of heart.”
“What?”
“Pure of heart. Apparently, that’s what you are, and your zoologist were-lion friend, and Johan. It’s supposed to help with the sex-magic.”
“I don’t know Johan. Who is he? Where did he come from? I don’t understand any of this.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to keep calm.
Duvessa’s heels clicked on the floor again as she walked over to peer into Johan’s cage. “Johan is your new sexual partner.”
“What? You are crazy.” A knot formed in her belly.
“For the sex-magic”
“That’s about saving children locked in a tower. What do you care about any of that?”
Duvessa leaned back against Johan’s cage. “That Jay Nandoro is a dead loss. I’ve scryed on him. His face looked miserable. He looked hungover. He’s an alcoholic. This is his replacement.”
August gripped the bars of the cage. “Jay. What have you done with Jay? He’s not a drunk what are you talking about?” She scanned the room as if there might be another cage, though she knew there wasn’t.
“My darling daughter. I haven’t done anything to him. But your friend Jay Nandoro is one drunken mess.”
She stared at her mother for a moment, remembering that Arlan had said Jay had gone to some bar, or pub, or whatever they called it here. “What do you mean?”
“I scryed on Jay Nandoro today. He looks like an alcoholic slob, from what I saw. He’s very handsome, but ultimately, he’s inferior. You will be performing the sex magic with Johan instead. And with Arlan too. Lucky girl, Arlan Leonard is one attractive son of a bitch though, all those golden muscles.”
“You’re gross. Why do you even care about the sex-magic? Why are you getting involved?” Duvessa raised one eyebrow. “Why do I ever get involved? Why do I ever do anything? For money. For power.”
As powerless as she felt, August tried to make her voice firm. “Well, whatever your plan is, it’s not going to work. You need to let us go. Maybe if you let me out of here, we could talk more. Keeping us in cages is… It’s criminal.”
Duvessa smiled. “What do I care if it’s a criminal offense? No jail cell could hold me. If you’d let me teach you dark magic when you were a little girl, you could have freed yourself from any cell. Yet another reason for you to regret your foolishness in choosing the light path.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jay woke on a bare concrete floor, his hangover thudding against his temples, drill bits trying to work their way out and leave circles in the top of his skull. Wherever he was, the scent of yeasty beer and cigarettes was strong, with a faint smell of urine and vomit underneath. He touched his head and felt a sticky patch of blood. He struggled into a sitting position and glanced down at his shirt and shorts. Both were stained with grime. He was grubby, humiliated, emotionally drained.
As his memories of the day returned, a swamping wave of black depression rolled over him. He touched the small bloody patch on the top of his head and scanned the room. People were drinking and laughing and playing pool.
August!
Her image flashed in his mind’s eye.
Since he’d met her, she was at the forefront of his mind much of the time. His gut knotted just remembering her surprised face. He wanted the impossible from her. He wanted her to stay with him forever. He wanted to be at the center of her heart, as she would be at the center of his. He wanted a woman who didn’t care that he also desired Arlan, that he couldn’t, try as he might, break free from that relationship. And that was impossible. That was madness. Maybe that was how things were in the Fae Realm, according to Arlan’s research, but the three of them lived here on earth.
Jay touched the blood on his forehead again, grimacing at his stupidity and the pain. “You all right, boss?”
Jay jumped at the intrusion into his thoughts. Aman with skin that shone almost blue-black reached out to give Jay a hand. A Shona man. Jay ignored the hand and hauled himself to his feet. “Don’t call me boss. I’m Shona too.” Not for the first time, Jay felt irritated that his skin was pale enough that Africans here never took him for one of their own, and yet he knew most Europeans saw him as black.
“Jay Nandoro? Well, I’ll be! It’s Jay Nandoro.” Jay did a double-take. “Dr. Tongai?”
The older man grinned at him. He was a lot slimmer than he’d once been. He hadn’t seen the psychiatrist in years.
“Shit, Dr. Tongai. Let me buy you a beer.” Swearing, he patted his shorts and gave a huge sigh of relief. His wallet was still there. Ope
ning it, he sucked in a breath. All his ID and credit cards were still in place, even his eighty dollars. Amazing. At least his height and muscle still counted for something in this world. Even when he was passed out. Even if he was a…
He rubbed his forehead, not wanting to think about what August must think of him now. Her poor heart was probably broken. And someone else had long ago put the haunted look in those beautiful blue-gray eyes. Now he’d added to her pain. Self-loathing and guilt tightened his chest.
The two men walked over to the bar. Jay pulled out some money and handed it to the guy behind the bar. Once they had their beer, they took their drinks back to the rough wooden bench and table.
He slapped the man on the back. “What are you doing here, man?”
“Why wouldn’t I be here? Can’t a shrink have a drink?” He grinned, and Jay felt his own lips tilt up at the edges in response. As embarrassed as he was to see the man, he was still taken in by his charm.
“You had one drink too many before I arrived, I see. You’re bleeding, you know.”
Jay pulled a face. “I know. This place is a dump, though. I thought a man like you’d be drinking somewhere classier than the Mopane Tree.” Jay gestured at the blackboard sign that advertised only scuds, the slang for big plastic containers of local beer that smelled of raw yeast and tasted like earth. Made with maize, it was a drink and a food in one.
The doctor shrugged. “My nephew works here. And sometimes you just want a scud.” He took a sip of beer. Then stopped, frowned and reached a hand up to almost touch the spot on Jay’s head. Instinctively, Jay shrank back. “Listen, Jay, you better put something on that fast in case it gets infected. I’ll see if they have a first aid kit.”
His former psychiatrist headed around the back of the bar and started talking to a young man. He gestured at Jay and returned with the kit. Jay had to slouch so the shorter man could put disinfectant on his head wound while he swore at the burning.
The doctor covered the graze with a thick square plaster. “I might have thought a man with your wealth could find a classier place to drink, Mr. Nandoro?”
Jay shrugged. “Sometimes my mood is seedy. This place fits.”
He walked back around the table, sat down and took another sip of his scud. Jay studied the man as he drank some of his own strong yeasty beer. Scud always had a surprising lemon aftertaste. “So, what’s it been, two, maybe three years? And you don’t wear glasses anymore.”
Tongai gestured to his eyes. “Contacts.”
“Thought so.”
“You ditched me all those years ago. Ran out on me, Nandoro.”
Jay rubbed his fingers against his temple, trying to relieve a bit of his headache. “I don’t really want to talk about that, man.”
“Your uncle prepaid for an additional month’s counseling you didn’t even show up for.” Jay shrugged. The doctor leaned forward and whispered, “A suicide attempt is a serious thing, Jay.”
His insides went tense. He pointed at the doctor, cutting off his speech. “That was years ago.”
“But…”
Jay gave Tongai the look. The look that always shut Arlan up. He motioned to the plastic container. “I bought you a drink, old man, and that’s all I paid for. Drink your scud.”
Dr. Tongai shook his head and took another mouthful. “You can come visit me anytime.”
“It’s not necessary.” Jay peered more closely at Tongai. He was thin. He appeared healthy, but… the horror of the thought made him nauseated. “You’ve lost a lot of weight since I last saw you, Doctor. You don’t…”
“No, Jay, I don’t have the disease. I don’t have HIV. I’m thin, but I’m not that thin. It’s just stress, you know?” He shrugged. “Life is stressful here.”
Jay’s whole body relaxed, and he raised his plastic container in a mock toast. “Life is hell in Africa.”
Dr. Tongai lifted his own drink, then the old man’s gaze went to the doorway, and his mouth dropped open. “Oh God, no.”
Jay turned his head to focus on what he was staring at. Three men had entered the pub. One glance at them told Jay they were bad news. Early thirties, black wraparound sunglasses, black Levi’s, gold chains; one of the men was short, but the other two were huge, hulking men. One of them appeared European possibly South African, the other two might be Shona. Jay’s eyes met those of the largest man, and a muscle twitched in his jaw.
The shorter man nodded toward their table. The two heavies approached them. “Hello, Doctor.” The man’s lip curled. He practically spat the word doctor.
One of the larger men stepped forward. “Where’s your boyfriend, Doctor?”
The way the man said boyfriend made the hairs stand up on the back of Jay’s neck. The doctor blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The other large man drummed his fingers on the wooden table. “Steven Zinyoro. Stop playing dumb.”
“My friend Steven’s visiting his mother.”
“My friend Steven’s visiting his mother.” The thug’s high-pitched falsetto imitation of Dr. Tongai made Jay’s nostrils flare as his body tensed.
The short man grabbed the back of Tongai’s shirt. “Own your filthy deeds, Doctor.” The man’s Afrikaners accent was thick with contempt. “Answer me this, Tongai, are you gay?”
“Well, I’m not very happy right now. But I might be if you let go of my shirt.”
Before Jay had time to think, one of the other thugs grabbed Tongai’s arm. “My buddies and I should turn you over to the cops, fudge packer. But you never know. Play your cards right, you might get lucky.”
“Yeah.” The man wearing the most gold chains poked Tongai in the chest. “You might get lucky. Where’s your wallet at?”
Jay grabbed the Afrikaners man’s wrist and twisted it backward, making him let go of the psychiatrist. “We were just leaving.” Jay’s teeth ached from gritting them. His vision was dark with rage. He wanted to kill all three men, but his headache still jackhammered in his skull, and he didn’t need the grief or trouble.
The largest man blocked their path. “Well, mate,” the man said in a poor imitation of Jay’s boarding school accent, “we have business with the fag, so you’ll be the one leaving. He stays.”
Jay’s right eye throbbed like a heart. He wished he had his phone. He wished he had his gun. The doctor sucked in a sharp breath and whirled around. The other heavy had Dr. Tongai’s hand pressed down on the wooden bench, trapped in a viselike grip.
“Motherfucker,” Tongai swore in pain. “Wallet.”
“You’re…not…blackmailing me.” Tongai’s words came out between gasps. The man squeezed harder, and pop of cartilage echoed over Dr. Tongai’s screams. Getting it together at last, Jay landed a sharp right hook on the man’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back, and he careened into the table. Jay grabbed the beefy wrist of the other large man, whose fist came flying at him, stopping the punch, then shoving the man against the wall with enough force that the guy’s head gave an audible crack as it hit the concrete bricks.
From behind him, Jay heard the snap of a blade. His blood pumping so fast it deafened his hearing, he jumped aside, missing the man’s first lunge. The other two men grabbed him, knocking him into the pool table. Trapped on both sides, both men holding his arms, pinning him against the table, Jay felt his pulse race.
The brute sneered at him. “You’re dead, mengzi.”
Jay thought the Shona word meant stranger, or maybe asshole. It hardly mattered when he felt the sting in his flesh.
Chapter Nineteen
The basement door creaked on its hinges, and Kruger entered the room. August was frozen in time, staring at him, while Duvessa looked on, amused.
“You!” Indignation overwhelmed her terror. “You! I gave you a second chance. I trusted you.” Did she see guilt momentarily flash in his eyes?
“Ah,” Duvessa said, “you’re here at last, Hendrik. How are we going to do this whole thing? This sex-magic?”
“I
don’t fucking know.”
Duvessa whirled to face him. “This was your idea, to replace Jay Nandoro with someone younger, more naïve.”
August turned her head as Johan let out a gasp of protest or pain. Her hand through the bars, Duvessa had a fistful of the young man’s hair. She was clearly enjoying his palpable terror and pain.
My God! My mother. This is a woman I loved. I loved you once. In spite of everything, I loved you because you’re my mother.
“Stupid.” She heard herself voice it out loud. Her mother merely raised an eyebrow at her words. “What’s stupid?”
“Trusting him.”
Kruger actually had the grace to flush. “This was not my idea, Duvessa.” “Of course, it was.”
“No.” He waved his hand at the three cages. “This was never the plan. You kidnapped these people? I can’t believe this.”
“Well, what else are the cages down here for?” Duvessa tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “For keeping people in, I would imagine. What has gotten into you today? We discussed all this.”
“We discussed it, but I told you I didn’t think August and Arlan would be keen to find a new third.” Kruger sighed. “I had things under control. They were doing the sex magic. If you just had some patience… You never said you would kidnap them.”
“They were not performing. It needed to be done.” Duvessa glared. Her eyes flickered like guttering candles, turning August’s blood to ice.
“Look at that kid.” Kruger gestured at Johan. “He’s scared out of his mind. He’s probably wet himself. How well is he going to perform?” The professor raised his chin. “Sex magic is supposed to be done by consenting, happy participants.” His voice quivered with what August could only guess was frustration, though his speech was impassioned. He was…forgetting himself. “I had the key to all that power in the palm of my hand. I had it all planned out, under control. You messed everything up, Duvessa.”
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