by S. D. Grimm
Logan rubbed two fingers across his forehead. She deserved to know. “I did. Another mistake. What’s done is done.”
“It is.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. She looked so much like Rebekah.
He breathed deep, wishing he had something he could give her. Then he remembered. He got up, found the long velvet case Anna had given him, and took out four daggers and their sheaths. “These are for you.” He handed her one of the two long daggers. They were almost long enough to be considered short swords. “I can show you how to use them if—”
“I know how.” She smiled. “But why would you give me these?”
“These weapons identify the Deliverers.”
“They’ll bond with you,” Jayden said.
Serena picked up the weapon. The milky opal in the hilt blazed with her touch. It looked like a shimmering unicorn under an uninhibited full moon. The white light wrapped around her arm. “Oh.”
“There’s no doubt now.” Logan handed her the other long one and the two small daggers. Each lit up in her hand.
“They’re the most beautiful daggers I’ve ever seen.”
“They were made for you, by a Wielder.” Logan rolled the remaining swords back into the red velvet and tied the strings carefully around them. He glanced at all three of them. “These are a secret.”
Serena smiled and Logan’s breathing hitched. “She’s so like her mother.”
Aurora’s mood felt content. “She is.”
Perhaps he could learn to see that as a good thing like she seemed to.
Westwind chuckled. “That’s a lot of human emotion for you to deal with, friend.”
Logan reached down and patted Westwind’s head. Teeth touched his hand in response. “Don’t get carried away.” He chuckled at his wolf friend.
“Before you put those weapons away, Logan, Ethan could use a new sword.” Jayden shot Ethan a smile.
Logan cocked an eyebrow. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story.” Ethan shrugged. “And it involves a pretty ugly scar.”
“Here. Just until we get you something to replace it.” Logan handed Ethan one of the swords from the case.
Ethan pulled it out and ran his fingers over the cross guard. He weighed it. “Feels good. Feels great, actually. This is a far superior weapon.”
“Don’t get too used to it.” Logan chuckled. “We’ll head toward—”
“Castlerock,” Ethan said. “Our Whisperer is there.”
“Sounds like I missed a lot.”
Jayden laughed. “You did.”
Ethan slumped against the wall. “And be glad you slept through most of it.”
Chapter 51
Eyes Like Honey
Eyes like honey stared at Connor. Fire flickered, danced in the
amber irises. A black pupil—blacker than anything he’d ever seen—focused on him. No light reflected off these pupils. Blacker than night. Blacker than the stone. Light didn’t exist there.
He shivered. Tried to close his eyes, but the gaze entrapped him.
“Would you like to see?”
See what? Something from those eyes? No way.
His skin crawled, and every hair on his body stood on end.
Then he realized he was a wolf. Always a wolf in his dreams. This had to be a dream.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Do you have to ask? Don’t you know?” The voice sounded like rocks moving, mountains shifting . . . a prison breaking.
No. A shudder shot through Connor so the tip of his tail even shook.
“Yesssss.”
Connor tried to flee, but every way he turned, the eyes still stared at him. Bigger. It was almost as if he were caught in the stone. He couldn’t be. He’d left it under his pillow.
If his pillow had moved . . . perhaps it had. The eyes were watching him sleep, getting inside his head. He had to learn to fight it.
“What do you want?” His voice echoed in the nothingness around him.
The answering chuckle was deep like an earthquake. An avalanche.
“You’re afraid of your powers. You know where they come from.”
No.
“Yesssss. They come from her.”
Stop. He wanted to cover his ears, but he had only paws.
“The Mistress created your powers. They may have brought balance once, but not anymore. Now they only breed destruction. You would keep yourself away from the others to protect them. But you cannot. Your powers will consume them.”
“I’ll learn to use them.”
“Learn how? From all those books you read?”
How did it know about the books? This had to be a dream, nothing more.
But it was something more. It was true. All of it. All of his fur stood on end. If he couldn’t learn to control his powers, how would he survive?
“Your power brings death. You are Death Bringer. Even the creatures of the deep can be destroyed by you, but not unless you learn to use your power. You will be the most powerful of them all.”
A shiver raced over Connor’s skin. He hunched his back and held his head low. Tail tucked between his legs. “You can’t be what I think you are.”
“I am Sssssmoke, the mount of the Mistress, and my wings are stretching.”
Connor sat up and breathed heavily in the darkness of his room. Little moonlight spilled through the cracks of the windows. The fire still roared but he shivered. Wet from sweat.
The rock beneath his pillow glowed and he picked it up. No sign of the deadly eyes. Eyes the color of his own. It didn’t mean they weren’t watching. They could be. Could be staring at him right now. But Smoke had seemed to see inside Connor’s head. That, as far as he knew, was not possible. It had to be a dream.
If Smoke were truly waking, it meant the Mistress was breaking free of her prison. He had to be sure Ethan rescued Quinn before it happened. If only he had broken free of this trace spell earlier. Thea had been the one to want him to stay. Why had he listened? She’d also said he’d push his mother out a window. He should have known never to trust Thea. She was an assassin.
But Smoke was right. Connor was too afraid of what he’d do to the others. If he hurt them. If he couldn’t control his powers. Logan would come looking for him. He wouldn’t join them. Maybe he could help from afar.
The rock heated in his hand, and he covered it in the folds of his bedsheet. Then he got dressed. There were a few things he needed to figure out. One of them was how to get out of the palace.
What he needed was some fresh air so he could formulate a plan.
He dressed and headed out of his room, sure to keep the door closed and the fire going in the hearth. He sniffed. Listened. Only the steady creaking of the wind through the drafty corridor. A mouse padded down the hall, tiny paws against the cool floor. He barely heard it with his wolf hearing.
Connor crept toward the west end of the palace, the quickest way to the tunnels. He shed his clothes in the Bard’s Way, then morphed into a wolf. The smithy was empty, so he exited with ease. Outside he gazed up at the moon.
All the sounds and smells came to him more clearly. The cool autumn air didn’t chill him now. The leaves rustled, dry on their branches. And the wind swept over the field of long, dry grass.
As he paced, he thought.
So far Thea had been right to tell him not to leave yet. Getting the bracer from Balton was worth being here.
Maybe she hadn’t led him astray. But she was crazy if she thought he’d push Rebekah out a window. He shook the thought from his head. Rebekah’s plan to leave was a good one. But he really wanted to find out what the bracer did before he lost access to the library.
A light flickered in the window. Connor crept closer to the side of the palace wall.
A metallic scent hit his nose and he stopped. Sniffed the wind. Blood. Thick in the air.
His stomach roiled. Who was being killed?
Another scent burned his nose, a scent he’d never smelled before, but h
is powers gave him immediate recognition. Black lion venom.
Belladonna was there. Franco. A young woman with long, brown hair was there, too. She was bound and scared. The scent of blood choked him. So much blood.
Connor raced back inside. Whatever was happening in the palace, it needed to be taken care of and quickly.
As a wolf he rushed to the spot of light that shone in the white throne room. He’d have to be small to get into that room unnoticed. He remembered his mouse friend. That could work, but how long would he be able to keep to a form that small? He’d never done it. He might only have minutes.
It was worth a try.
The halls of the palace seemed to grow tall and wide as he shrunk into mouse form. The carpet smelled so much more potent from here.
He scurried beneath the door and into the white room.
Light flickered from every torch, every candle. It almost looked like daytime here.
Franco leaned close to Belladonna, and the two men flanking her eyed the king. “You’re sure she’s powerful enough?” Franco motioned to the poor girl, whose hands were tied in front of her. A gag choked her, and she glared at Franco.
Belladonna nodded. “The most powerful I’ve ever encountered.”
Franco walked up to the young woman and grabbed her chin in his fingers. He held a ring in front of her nose and removed the gag. “I found this in your pocket, Madison. To whom does it belong?”
“I—I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”
He smiled. “Well, you’ve seen it now.” He clutched it back in his hand and stepped away.
Kara’s silhouette filled the doorway. “You found the prisoner?”
“I found her.” He motioned to Madison.
Kara charged at her, knife out.
“Wait,” Franco said in his most musical voice. “Remember our deal. There is something you must do for me first, then she is all yours.”
What was he up to? Connor wanted to change into a wolf and lunge at Franco’s neck, but there were too many in here for him to fight.
“I want her now,” Kara sneered.
Franco smiled. “Put the knife away. I’ll let you take care of her. But first hear and have no doubt.”
Kara sheathed her weapon and crossed her arms.
Belladonna chuckled. “Such a good little assassin.”
The knife was back in Kara’s hand before Franco could even say anything. Kara tossed it right at Belladonna, but before it hit her, one of her new guards dove in front of it. The knife imbedded in his shoulder instead of Belladonna’s stomach.
“You idiot!” Belladonna hissed at Kara. Then she knelt next to her man.
“Did—did I save you?” he choked.
“You did well, Cain. Let me help you.” She pulled out the weapon, pressed her hands against his wound, and healed him.
He practically groveled at her feet. “Thank you, my lady.”
A shiver shot through Connor’s fur. His skin seemed tight. This form wouldn’t last much longer. Wait. He twitched his nose. The scent of black lion venom was strong here. He inched out from beneath the chair and looked up. There, perched on one of the room’s buttresses, lurked a black lion. Its wings spread, and the beast dropped to the floor, pressed against Belladonna, and purred.
Connor swallowed. If that cat smelled him, this wouldn’t end well.
Franco turned his attention to Kara. “It seems you just wanted to throw your knife. For the rest of this meeting, no one does anything without my approval. Is that clear?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He picked up the knife, cleaned it on the man’s shirt, and then handed it back to Kara. He motioned for his guards to hold Madison steady. “This is the woman who killed your sister.”
Not true. Connor’s heart thumped.
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Lie.” Belladonna’s tone was bored, and the woman looked at her fingernails. Franco smiled.
“I didn’t kill her sister.”
“How do you know?” Franco asked.
“I-I—”
“Have you ever seen this ring? We found it in the folds of your robe after the cart crashed.”
Madison shook her head. “I’ve never seen it—”
“Lie.” Belladonna yawned.
She looked right at Kara, tears in her eyes. “I’m telling you, this is a set-up. I never killed—”
“I’ve heard enough.” Kara’s voice was like venom. She curled her hands around the dagger at her waist. But she looked at Franco.
He nodded once.
She threw the knife.
The knife hurtled toward Madison and sunk deep into her stomach. She shrieked. Crimson spread onto her dress, staining the blue fabric. Clutching the handle, Madison slid down the wall.
Connor squeezed his body against the chair leg. He knew who killed Thea, and it wasn’t this poor girl. Whatever Franco’s game was, he’d have to get to the bottom of it.
“That was for my sister,” Kara said.
Franco smiled. “Belladonna, pull the knife out.”
Belladonna gripped the handle. Madison’s shriek filled the room, and the bloody weapon clattered to the floor.
“You’re still alive.” Franco bent over and touched the young Healer’s cheek. He grabbed the blood-stained portion of Madison’s dress in two hands. The wet material tore easily and revealed her woundless stomach. “You can’t just kill her, Kara. But the deal you made with me will make her suffer for the rest of her life. Are you ready?”
Kara glared at the Healer. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“I thought you might.” Franco picked the bloodied knife off the floor and headed over to the glass table. He placed the reddened knife blade into a goblet and stirred. “I just need your blood.”
No. Not a spell. Kara, don’t fall for it.
Kara sliced her palm. “Where?”
Franco smiled and tapped the goblet. He let the blood trickle into the glass. Then he poured the black liquid into three different glasses. One he handed to Kara. “Drink.”
The next he pressed to Madison’s lips. She struggled. He plugged her nose. As soon as her mouth opened, he poured the contents down.
Then he looked at their black-stained mouths and raised the final glass to his lips. “Now.” He looked at Kara. “It’s your turn.” He plunged the knife deep into her gut.
She crumpled to the ground near Connor.
His breathing quickened as he stared into her lifeless eyes. Blood dripped onto the white marble floor. Out of her mouth.
“What did you do to her?” Madison screamed. Blood wet the whole front of her torn dress, but she didn’t seem to be in pain.
Franco leaned over the young woman. “Heal her, Healer.”
“She’s dead.”
“That’s right, but she’s still bound to us by the life-debt. You can bring her back.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Connor scanned his memories for the term life-debt. He’d read it before. Dark, evil magic. It involved something about black venom and death, but it could give the wielder of the spell near immortality. Of course that was Franco’s plan.
Something Thea had said to Connor quickly snapped to his mind: “When my sister is at her most vulnerable, you will see her. After this, you must tell her what truly happened to me. Not before.”
“That’s quite cryptic, Thea.”
“I know. But I have to be careful not to change things. You’ll know what I mean when you see it.”
“And what am I to tell her about you?”
“You’ll know that, too, Wolf.”
He’d thought her strange then. But now, if Kara truly came back, Connor would tell her that it was Franco who killed her sister.
“Madison,” Franco stepped closer. “You will bring her back now, or I’ll kill your twin sister.”
“You don’t have her.”
Franco dangled a necklace in front of her. “You h
aven’t seen all of my cells.”
“Show her to me.”
“If I bring her in here, you will see a corpse.”
Madison narrowed her eyes.
Franco snarled. “I will tattoo you, girl, and then you’ll have to heal who I say, when I say. You will lose your soul to me.”
Madison held her head high and made direct eye contact with Franco. “I don’t believe you have my sister. And you can threaten me with the tattoo, but I know the spell for such evil has been lost. I’ll heal this girl because you had no right to use her grief to get what you wanted. You are not worthy to be called king.”
A guard raised his hand to smack her.
“Wait,” Franco said. “Don’t hurt her, I need her to perform this ritual. She needs all her strength.”
Connor’s body started to feel as though it pulled. His skin was getting too tight. He needed to either be in his normal human form or his normal wolf form. And soon. He eyed the exit.
Two eyes, bright like a pale moon, locked onto him. The black lion crouched low and thrashed its tail.
Madison leaned over Kara’s body.
If he didn’t make it to the door in time, he wouldn’t be small enough to get out and his secret would be revealed. He had to go. Now.
Madison cried out. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
The cat purred.
There was an opening.
Color drained from Madison’s face. She fell over.
The lion pounced. Huge paws blocked light from view as they cast shadows over him. Connor dodged, but one paw pinched the tip of his tail, causing his paws to slip on the floor. His heart hammered as he tried to gain purchase. A purr rumbled through him from the creature, and he thought his heart would burst. He scrambled against the marble and at last pulled his tail free. His body seemed to stretch. Pulling his skin. Yellow eyes locked on to him. He raced beneath a chair. The lion followed. The door was just in view. He dove, sliding along the marble, and squeezed beneath the frame.
And he heard Kara gasp.
He morphed into a wolf too soon, his tail not even on the other side of the door. That was close. He shook off his fur, turned—and Oswell, the king’s personal servant, stared at him with narrowed eyes.
“What are you?”
Chapter 52