Dark Huntress

by Nia Night

  I was well aware of the words on the walls of her office. They were quotes scrawled in curling black script, things of which she liked to remind all those who entered.

  “Do you know which of those quotes is among my favorite?” she asked.

  I waited, recalling several of the macabre citations to which she was referring.

  “A quick death is a mercy. A privilege. Something that must be earned,” she recited, and paused. “Why did you break into the Academy? Why did you abandon your post and miss the Mark that was assigned to you?”

  We were both aware that Warden Valda knew the answers to these questions. She only ever inquired about things of which she was sure.

  Now I said nothing.

  One corner of her mouth pulled up in that terrifying smirk. “So quiet all of a sudden? It seems you’ve not abandoned all of your training. Thou shalt remain silent in the arms of the enemy. It’s one of our tenets, a core of The Code… But that must make me the enemy. Am I your enemy, Iliana?”

  Her lips pouted as though this were a sad thought, as though she were capable of being sad, of feeling any emotion beyond disdain.

  She moved over to where my right wrist was chained to the wall, cold fingers gripping my hand and turning it so that she could study the tattoo there. The Sister’s tattoo. The marking one received on the day of graduation after taking the Oath. Two seraphs back to back, crossed like duel moons, a snake in the shape of an S curling behind them on the inside of my wrist. The same way it was on every other Sister.

  Warden Valda’s red hair shifted over her shoulder, the waves forming thick rivers of blood when in motion. “Normally, I would burn the mark off you,” she told me. “But with your particular proclivities, I thought it better to cut if free instead.” She met my eyes again with a smile, white teeth flashing. You’ll want to hold still.”

  Her fingers poised over the metal cart, over the tray atop it, lips pursing as she decided upon her instrument. Plucking a scalpel from the group, she raised it up between us, assessing the blade. “This will do,” she said.

  I clenched my jaw, swallowed the bitter saliva that had flooded my mouth.

  Warden Valda took her time cutting the tattoo off me. Each dig of her blade was felt deeper than just the skin. I may have been discontent with my life as of late, may have been questioning things, but the Sister’s Mark one received on the day of graduation was a symbol of pride, success, and freedom. Mostly, the Mark meant freedom.

  Only those females who made it through the years at the Academy and then the trials before graduation ever left the grounds again.

  As Warden Valda cut the ink free of my body, I tried to remind myself that the mark had been a form of shackles as well, a physical binding to The Code. I would likely meet my end as soon as the Warden felt I’d justly suffered, but at least I would no longer be doing her bidding. There was a certain freedom in that thought as well.

  And where would I go thereafter? What special place in the ten hells was there for someone who’d lived my kind of life, who’d done the things I’d done?

  I didn’t scream as she sliced. Didn’t squirm or whimper. I only gritted my teeth. Separated mind from body. She stood back to observe her work when she was done, red hair shining in the flickering light of the torches affixed to the walls.

  The scent of my blood hung in the air. It dripped drown my wrist, down my forearm, onto the wall to which I was chained.

  I didn’t look up to see the handiwork. For many reasons, I could not bear to see it yet.

  Instead, I held the Warden’s stare. The last bit of control I had left.

  The Warden grinned back at me, as if my defiance was amusing.

  “You know what I like setting more than records, Iliana?” she asked.

  Of course I knew. All Sisters knew. We’d heard the Warden speak those exact words many a times before, and were always glad when we were not the one they were being spoken to.

  Now I did answer, because smart Sisters also knew that this particular question was not rhetorical.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  Her fire red head tilted. “What’s that?”

  Once again I swallowed the bitter taste on my tongue. “Examples,” I said.

  25

  Two Sisters entered the chamber.

  One I knew by acquaintance, as she was one of the few Sisters whose post was to remain at the Academy and train the new recruits. Her name was Orlena.

  The other was Abri.

  No amount of training could keep the shock from my expression, nor the sting of betrayal that followed after.

  Abri’s expression revealed a flash of guilt, along with accusation. Without her having to speak the words, I could practically hear her saying, “I told you not to dig deeper. Not your circus, not your monkeys, remember?”

  Then the flash was gone, like lightning from the sky, and back was the blank expression of a true Sister.

  Orlena and Abri unchained me from the wall as the Warden watched, no doubt aware of the silent communication passing between Abri and me. No doubt enjoying it.

  “Take her to the square, Sisters,” said the Warden.

  I didn’t fight as they clasped a metal collar around my neck, bound my wrists with chains, and led me away. Even with all my training, there was no point. I would be struck down before I was able to make a move. The Warden strolled beside us as we walked, one hand resting casually on the hilt of the seraph hanging from her hips.

  They led me up the stairs and through the halls of the Academy.

  As unpleasant as the cuts to my wrist had been, this was worse. It took more effort than I’d have imagined to keep my chin up as we passed through the halls, passed the Sisters stationed here and the students they oversaw. Cold expressions held their faces, not a trace of pity or empathy. They didn’t need to ask who I was or what I was being punished for. Those things didn’t matter. They were just glad they weren’t in my position. I couldn’t blame them. If I were in theirs, I’d feel the same.

  As we emerged through the main doors of the school, I noticed that the sun was beginning to lighten the sky on the horizon. This reminded me of the subject I’d been forcibly keeping from my mind since my capture.

  Kieran. And the fact that the poison immobilizing him would soon wear off.

  I hadn’t wanted to think of the Angel I’d left in the wood. Hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility of him attempting to rescue me. Whether he would succeed in such an endeavor was not a question. I knew he would not. Rather, the question was whether or not he would try.

  It was a stupid question, made dumber by the reality of the situation. Its answer mattered not in the least.

  Either way, on the heels of this pointless pondering came another; if the Angel had been captured in my stead, if the roles were reversed, would I have come in after him?

  Stupid. Pointless. Futile.

  I watched the lightening of the sky, followed my Sisters to the square, where many a traitor had come before me.

  The square was a courtyard in front of the Academy’s main building, visible from both the Warden’s office and the students’ dormitories. When the ground wasn’t frozen, it was muddy and barren, not a blade of grass breathing life into the place. As the Academy loomed behind this piece of land, the east and west wings of the building flanked the sides of it. The wall lay on the fourth side, and the wood beyond that, creating a box of stone and timber.

  Three metal poles were all that marked the spot, standing over thirty feet tall, and sinking another fifteen feet into the earth to remain erect. Two chains and circular rings hung from each of these poles, more metal dangling from the rings.

  Orlena and Abri secured me to the center pole. First my wrists, hauling them over my head so that my chest was fully exposed, so that my fingers would lose feeling first for loss of blood flow, making my recently dislocated shoulder sing in pain.

  The Warden watched as they did this, a grin lifting her lips as she raised the fabri
c of her jacket to reveal the other thing I’d been trying not to think about.

  My Calidi chain.

  The last remnant of my family, my mother.

  Coiled around her trim and toned waist as though it was her own.

  “I was going to use it to bind you,” Warden Valda said. “But then I grew rather attached to it, so I think I’ll keep it for myself.”

  Abri wouldn’t look at me now. She knew what the chain meant to me. Knew that keeping my expression neutral was a battle against my greatest of wills.

  She and Orlena produced another chain and bound my body to the hard metal pole, pulling me as tautly as a lover’s embrace.

  On the slowly brightening horizon, I noticed clouds gathering, and thanked the bastard Gods for small blessings. There was a reason the three poles in the square were metal and as tall as they were; they acted as lightning rods to draw the electricity of the skies when the inevitable storms rolled in.

  Many a night I had snuck from my bed in the dormitory, the windows of which overlooked the courtyard, to watch the bolts strike the poles. The lightning would illuminate the entire square, would singe the very earth into which the poles were planted.

  Some of those nights, though they were rare, someone would be chained to these poles, as I was now. I’d watched through the window on only one of those occasions. One was all it took.

  I still remembered her. The sight of the seizures of the poor soul who’d been chained here were still visible in my mind. All these years later, I couldn’t remember the girl’s name. But I remembered her seizing, the way her body jerked and spasmed, as the first bolt of lightning struck the pole.

  I wondered if anyone would remember mine.

  The daylight hours passed quickly. Too quickly. The only way they knew how at the Academy.

  Darkness soon fell again. Right around the time that I’d lost most of the feeling in my fingers and wrists.

  If the Angel were to come, he would do it now, having waited for the cover of darkness before making his move.

  I shoved these traitorous thoughts away. In some situations, hope could save a person’s life. In others, it would only prolong the suffering. The key was knowing which situation was which. My current predicament was undoubtedly the latter.

  The Angel was not coming. He might not even still be alive. And even if he did try to make a rescue attempt, that attempt would not be successful.

  But this didn’t stop me from scanning the darkening sky, trying to spot a flash of white wings.

  A string of curses ran through my head. Was this what I had become? Was this what I’d been reduced to? Hoping for a male to rescue me like a Gods damned damsel in distress. And an Angel to boot.

  Fuck that. I was going to die, anyway, so I might as well hold onto what remained of my dignity as I did so.

  Students and Sisters marched through the square, hurrying to and from their tasks, some of them stopping to punch or kick me, to spit in my face. Though I flashed my teeth at those who did so, I didn’t really blame them, for I knew that on the balcony overlooking the square was the Warden. Watching. Witnessing the distain of the others. Marking down in her mind those who showed me no kindness, those who kicked the dog when she was down.

  Those students always tended to be her favorites.

  It wasn’t long before I was covered in dirt and bloodied from the beatings. A girl who couldn’t be older than ten, with big green eyes and a tiny mouth even chucked a rock at me. It struck me on my temple, and stars burst behind my lids. I growled at the child, and she skipped away as though she was plenty pleased with this.

  At some point, I spotted Abri leaning in the shadows of the building, her form unrecognizable to someone without a trained eye. She would not come to me, would not aid me. Nor would the others. Doing so would only earn them a spot on one of the metal poles to either side of me.

  But Kieran. The Angel might come, whispered a voice in my head. I told that voice to kindly shut the fuck up as I spat out the blood that washed into my mouth when one student came by and socked me in the jaw.

  After a half hour or so of bearing witness, Abri’s form disappeared from the shadows. I knew beyond a doubt that it was the last time I’d be seeing her.

  On her private balcony, beyond the glass doors, stood the Warden, red hair visible even from my spot in the square below. On the edge of the heavens, a storm drew closer, black masses of clouds gathering as if in salutations.

  I searched the skies for hope despite myself. None was there.

  At some point, I passed out from exhaustion. I could no longer feel my arms, and the ache in my shoulder had become a constant dull throb.

  I dreamed of my mother. Or at least I think I did. I couldn’t be sure. When I came to again, I was still tied to the metal pole, still in the square. A cold front had moved in, and I used a bit of my fire magic to chase away the chill.

  It did nothing to soothe the coldness stealing over my soul.

  Without food and water, I could last a few weeks, if I made it through the storm moving in. After that, my systems would begin to shut down. The Warden would leave my body here until it began to reek, until the crows stopped picking from my bones.

  I knew these things because I’d seen them happen to the poor bastards who’d held this place before me.

  I’d been a fool. A terrible fool. If I’d done the things I was supposed to, I’d likely be chilling in my loft right now, feet kicked up, cold beer in my hand. Instead, I remained chained to the metal pole, glimpsing the faces of others in the windows, all of the Academy called forth to witness my shame.

  I hung my head. Waited for death to claim me.

  Then there was a flash of white in the sky, and wretched hope leapt in my chest.

  The Angel. He had come for me. The stupid, beautiful fool had come for me at last.

  I couldn’t help the small noise that escaped me as I confirmed what my eyes were telling me, as I saw his white wings spread starkly against the dark sky.

  He was coming right for me. He’d need to be quick. We’d need a miracle…

  But just as he was about to dip toward me, Kieran curved northward, catching the wind and sailing upward again.

  I couldn’t grasp meaning as he lit on the Warden’s balcony. Couldn’t comprehend as the Warden opened her glass doors to him. Couldn’t breathe as she drew the Angel toward her, as they embraced and shared a deep, sensual kiss.

  Warden Valda’s sharp eyes pinned me across the distance between us, a smile dancing behind them as she continued to kiss Kieran, to let her hands roam down his back, over his wings and body.

  Above, the clouds that had gathered on the horizon moved into place, splitting open and spitting down upon me in much the same manner as the students of the Academy had done.

  Lightning flashed across the sky, and the first of the raindrops struck my cheek, sizzling on my hot flesh, as if the very heavens were crying for me.

  The End… for now

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  SILVER HUNTRESS: Sisterhood of Assassins: Iliana’s Story, Book 2

  Chapter 1

  The Gods were not crying for me.

  Those old bastards didn’t give two shits about me.

  In fact, outside of these walls, there wasn’t a being walking the realms that gave two shits about me.

  I supposed that was what a life of killing for profit bought you. No one to grieve when you were gone.

  I was ready for it to be over, anyway. The storm had rolled in and out, the thunderheads drenching me, making my boots sink into the mud. Lightning had flashed over and over, but it hadn’t struck the metal pole to which I was bound, denying any hope of an early end to my suffering. That was days ago.

  The sky had cleared. Darkened again. Cleared again. Around me, the Academy and its inhabitants carried on in their usual fashion. Training to fight, to kill. They’d stopped paying visible attention to the disgraced Sister chained to the pole in the courtyard, had stopped the tauntin
g and insults, the punches to the gut and kicks to the shins. They didn’t so much as look at me as they passed, but I knew they were aware of my presence, knew from experience that they wanted it to be over nearly as much as I did. My inevitable death would come as a mercy to us all.

  I’d stopped thinking about the Angel’s betrayal. Stopped turning over the possible rhymes and reasons. I told myself it didn’t matter. Kieran may have deceived me for purposes that would likely never be known to me, but he hadn’t forced me to do anything. I saw now that it had been a test. Every bit of it. All I’d had to do was follow The Sister’s Code, as I always have, and I would’ve passed the test with flying colors. I certainly wouldn’t be awaiting death by starvation or lightning.

  My shoulders ached. My body hung limp between them, the chains around my waist ensuring I stay upright even when my muscles surrendered. I’d used my fire magic to warm me, but after days with no water, no food, and utterly exposed to the elements of the cursed land the Academy occupied, I had little energy left for even that. It wouldn’t be long now, at least. And it couldn’t be soon enough.

  All because I’d given a shit. I should’ve taken a lesson from the Gods.

  “He’s an asshole, mom,” I snapped. “I don’t understand why you put up with him.

  My mother’s eyes cut toward me. She didn’t comment on the foul language, as she normally might have. She only sighed. “He’s not all bad,” she replied softly.

  I scoffed. “He’s a drunk. A loser.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, likely some excuse or defense, but what exactly, I’d never know.

  “Who’s a drunk and a loser?” said a deep voice from the doorway.

  The small kitchen apartment in which we sat shrunk smaller. The smell of whiskey drifted across the space. I swallowed once, meeting the glazed gaze of the Demon male who’d just entered. Silence held for a heartbeat. Then he broke it.

  He stumbled a step closer, old linoleum groaning under his boots. Callum was a handsome male by most standards, with brown hair and dark blue eyes, a strong jaw and straight nose.