by Anna Sanders
“Who are you?” he asked silkily instead of answering, the teasing never leaving his tone.
“Are we not trusting each other?” she asked.
“There’s all kinds of trust, sweets. From what I can assume about you, you’re in as much shit right now as I am. But that doesn’t mean that we are on the same side.”
“We’re imprisoned by the same people. That would make allies out of anyone.”
“Time will have to tell on that one.”
“We can help each other,” she insisted, annoyed.
“Unless you’ve got a five course meal in your back pocket, I don’t see how you’re helping me anytime soon. Hell, I’m so goddamn hungry I’d settle for a mushed bag of M&Ms.”
The van was chugging away from their position on the side of the road. Winx toppled over when it made a wide U-turn. She mentally tried to pinpoint their direction, but it was difficult from their wobbly position.
“Where are we heading? Do you know?” she demanded of the stranger.
“I couldn’t tell you, sweets.”
“Where did they pick you up from?”
Even in the dark caravan, she could see the glow of his secretive, toothy grin.
“What harm could come from me knowing that?” she was exasperated.
“It’s funny what little bits and pieces of information can be used against you. I have too much at stake to go shooting my mouth off.” He lowered his voice. “Besides. Don’t think for one second that they can’t hear us in there. You’re interrogating me just as bad as they’ve been.”
Winx squeezed her eyes shut. Right. That made sense. “I’m sorry.”
“Not to worry.” He really didn’t seem offended. No, in fact, he never lost his touch of humor with the situation. What could he find amusing being trussed up and carted away by the enemy? Winx did a cursory flit into his mind, but she was blocked. Cryptid. Still, something about him seemed more accessible than the others she’d been in contact with recently.
It didn’t take her long to figure out why that was. He was of the dark touch, like her. That didn’t mean that she could read him completely, but it did make it a bit easier to get an impression about him. And from what she could tell, he was keeping a lot of secrets.
Winx tried to look over at Keaton, but the way he was slumped made a visual hard. “Are you okay?” she asked him timidly.
“Nope,” the stranger answered for him. “He’s sucking in sharp breaths every time we hit a bump in the road. He’s in pain.”
Winx had known that, but she still flinched at his observation.
It had sounded like he could have broken something back there, and they did just narrowly escape from a fire. Winx shuffled her bottom, sliding over to where Keaton was laid out with his brow against the floor.
“Hey.” She nudged him with her shoulder. He hissed in pain. “You need to keep your wits about you. There’s no telling where they’re taking us, or what they’re going to do…” Her gaze shifted to the dark silhouette of their new companion. If his injuries were any indication, these Lighters weren’t the type to avoid hitting their captives. Or of starving them.
“It’s fine to rest while you can,” the stranger advised. “It’s when we stop that you should be worried.”
“Funny how such a big palace can be a hindrance,” Esteban Chavez kept up a conversational tone as he walked Genevieve, gun still pressed to her head, throughout the halls she had recently been lost in. Obviously, he knew his way around. The thought was as discomforting as the bullet awaiting her in its chamber.
“I’ve downgraded recently to a mere bunker of a home,” he continued. “Not glamorous by any definition, but it’s prime territory when it comes to defense. No place for anyone to surprise me. You can buy security like that, just like you can buy luxury as this. But instead, your pompous family must flaunt their wares, even while in hiding. How asinine of you Merricks.”
“W-where are you taking me?”
“You sound afraid, my dear. There’s no need to be. You’re my leverage. If anything, you should be pleased. It means I need you to live, for the time being.”
“The palace is surrounded by guards,” Genevieve tried to deter him even as he marched her along the corridors. “Whatever you’re planning won’t get off of the ground. My uncle is here.”
“Yes, and so is the Queen. Yet I’ve still managed to bypass Orion’s security systems. How do you think that is?”
She would love to know. Something in her felt even more slighted by the fact that her uncle had not taken her warnings about Chavez seriously. All of her talk had fallen onto deaf ears, and now, it seemed it was too late. Who knew what kind of example Chavez was planning on making out of her, or of the others who had tried to stop him?
Esteban brought her around to the grand staircase at the opening of the palace. Five armed guards waited at the base, and they went on alert when they saw the Chancellor with his captive, all of them pointed rifles in their direction.
“Stop right there!” one guard shouted. “Release the princess!”
“Why, if it isn’t Orion’s personal guard.” Esteban’s voice leaked with superiority, his gun twisting about in Genevieve’s fiery hair. “You might as well lower those. Because if you don’t…”
He intentionally squeezed the trigger. Genevieve’s head jerked violently. She knew a blinding moment of substantial pain before it all went away. When she reopened her eyes, she was covered in thick coats of her own blood. The Chancellor had shot her in the head, and then he’d immediately healed her before death could steal her away. No discomfort was leftover, but the message was clear.
“Next time,” Esteban said wickedly, “I won’t heal her.”
That was all of the message that the guard needed. They all dropped their weapons. None of them wanted to be responsible for the death of the princess.
“Very good. Now, make way, amateurs. I have an appointment with Orion.”
Chavez walked through the five guards without giving them a second glance. Genevieve saw real fear etched onto each of their faces. She was sure that her expression was similar.
It was a long, slow waltz up the marble stairs for her. She was doing her best to keep her balance with Chavez’s death grip around her. Genevieve could still feel the blood from her brief head wound sliding stickily down her neck to pool onto her shoulder blade. Heading toward her uncle should have made her feel safer, but it didn’t. But it didn’t. If his guard couldn’t help her, how could he?
When they reached the landing, Genevieve’s wing was to the left, and the queen’s was to the right. But of course they wanted Orion’s, so they went straight down until the Head Chancellor’s massive doors were before them.
“Be of some use,” Esteban chided her when they stopped. “How am I supposed to open the door while I’ve got you and the gun?”
Genevieve reached a shaking hand out to turn the handle. When it clicked over, Chavez kicked it heavily. It banged loudly as it slammed into the opposite wall.
“Knock, knock!” Esteban walked over the threshold with Genevieve still clutched to his body. “I request an audience with his holiness.”
Orion’s suite was as highly renovated as the rest of the palace. It doubled as a place of work as well as sleeping quarters, so it looked as stately as any agency for high society. Though the color tones were rather drab, all the decorations and furniture were at the very height of fashion. A plush rug led the way to the Head Chancellor’s intimidating desk.
Orion stood there before it. The way he was dressed and the disheveled state of his hair implied that he’d been about to have a relaxing afternoon after his trying meeting with Iragall and that he’d undressed quickly. The lines of his loose, robe-like clothing did nothing to hide the prominence of his rounded abdomen. Still, he remained stiff and imposing as Esteban brought Genevieve further into his quarters.
“Chavez,” Orion greeted him without inflation.
“High Chancellor.” Esteb
an sounded out of breath near Genevieve’s ear.
“This is not what we agreed to.” An irritation was building underneath Orion’s calm exterior.
“Quite right.” Esteban guided Genevieve to sit at his feet, gun still trained onto her. “But I’ve waited long enough for my kingdom.”
“You were not promised the kingdom,” Orion revealed. “You were promised the power of High Chancellor were you able to agree to certain terms—“
“I’ve upheld my end of the deal!” the madman screamed suddenly. “I’ve done your dirty work! I’ve started the culling! Now it’s your turn to make good on your promises!”
Her uncle was working with the enemy. This place had never been safe. Genevieve threw Orion a hateful glare.
“I am to be given my queen,” Esteban continued to shout. “And my rightfully earned power.”
“You were to be given a bride, not a queen.” Orion never raised his voice. “And we were to run the Queendom in tandem with the Goddess. You’re overstepping your reach, Co-Chancellor of the Light.”
The crazed gleam in Esteban’s gaze did not waver. “If we cannot make a deal,” he said, tilting his gun in emphasis, “then we’ve no need to negotiate any further.”
Genevieve whimpered in fear when the weapon sighted on her again.
“You forget, Orion,” Esteban continued, “You are the one who stands to lose everything. I am the one who can only gain.”
The High Chancellor got brave. “After all I’ve done for you? I cleared the pathways to your retribution against the Rowan family. I covered your tracks after Dante recklessly had their eldest daughter murdered! Is this how you repay me? By snatching more power than you know what to do with?”
Esteban shook the gun wildly. “There will be no more need for your cooperation when I am in total control!”
“Wait.” Her uncle finally showed a bit of remorse at Genevieve’s situation. He held a hand up quickly when Chavez kept his finger pressed determinedly to the trigger. “Killing the princess won’t gain you control of anything.”
“I don’t see how it would affect anything. She and the queen are useless things. We control their festering pile of a Queendom. So why pretend any longer?” He barked a mirthless laugh. “Those with the touch should know who runs their lives and fear them. We are the order. We are the peacekeepers! No more hiding behind the tempered hand of their pretty queen!”
“Things will go a lot smoother if both Genevieve and Edina live. You know that.”
“Why should I listen to you when you cannot even protect yourself? When you’ve already lost the battle?” He raised his free hand in emphasis, speaking down to a gadget at his arm. “Bring her in.”
Three savages followed by two men entered Orion’s chambers. The savages were nipping hungrily at the quavering form of the Goddess Edina. She squeaked in fear as they threw her forward toward Chavez, who, in turn, threw her beside Genevieve. The queen did her best to put her daughter between herself and the still-snapping savages.
“Don’t let them kill me!” Her eyes were panic stricken, her movements not her own in her fright. “Please, keep them away from me!”
“Do you see now who holds all of the cards?” Esteban shouted over the Goddess’s sobs. “Please, tell me why I should listen to you for one remaining minute?”
Orion’s face finally caved in defeat. He looked embarrassed and alone. His fists clenched in haughtiness. “You dare—”
“Oh, I dare!” Esteban laughed triumphantly.
Nobody was going to stop him.
CHAPTER 13
They drove for hours. Winx wasn’t able to keep count. Since the stranger had fallen asleep and she couldn’t rest through this, her focus was mostly on Keaton. She had tried to keep Keaton lucid, but soon, she wasn’t able to convince him to keep his eyes open, either. That left her alone and shifting continuously, the vibrating metal hard under her numbing body.
They stopped twice on the journey. The first time, the backdoor wasn’t opened. Winx had hoped that the guard would let them out to relieve themselves, at least, but Winx was forced to ignore the demands of her body. Real embarrassment was nearby, but she wasn’t alone in that, she was sure.
Still, Winx bellowed to be allowed out to relieve herself on the second stop. The guard relented, to her surprise, but they were far from gentle as they tossed her out and shuffled her into a rest stop bathroom, much to her amusement. She would have been satisfied with a nearby field.
When she came back out, Keaton and the stranger were being roughly put back into the back of the van. Keaton looked miserably pale, and his limp was over-pronounced before he was damn near lifted off of his feet to be returned to the vehicle.
Winx shouted angrily at that, but she turned even more feral when a man picked her up by her hips, grabbed a healthy portion of her ass, and then bodily threw her into the stranger in the van. She landed nearly facedown in his lap and had barely scrambled off him before the doors were closed again.
“Closest thing I’ve had to a date in a long time,” the stranger tried to joke. “Wish I could have had a shave first.”
Winx didn’t find it funny. She scooted away from him and over to Keaton, who looked barely recovered from his near faint outside of the van. She was even more worried.
They drove for another stretch of indeterminable time. Nobody had anything to say. The only sounds were of their harsh breathing grating off of the bare interior.
When they came to their final stop, Winx had actually been considering trying to close her eyes for a moment. The complete absence of even a sliver of light told her the sun had set at least an hour ago, and without being able to see even an inch in front of her nose, she no longer saw the point of staying awake. She could hardly regret the missed opportunity, though. It seemed that they were about to get some answers...at least, before they were rendered useless with injuries. Or worse, killed.
The guards pulled them out of the van’s bed one by one. All of Winx’s instincts were telling her to fight, but instead, she did her best to focus on her surroundings as they were led up a long, concrete drive. A surplus of foliage made seeing any nearby landmarks impossible, but she was sure that they were somewhere remote. A large steel gate was rattling closed behind them, and the building resembled a palace, with a lot of polished marble, ornate carvings, and high, floodlit beams.
Foreboding had long overtaken her, but when Winx met Keaton’s watchful gaze, she attempted to calm herself. There still might be a way out of this. If they were going to suffer, then they would at least suffer with cause, by doing all in their power to get out alive.
The stranger began to laugh as the group was led around to the back entrance of the structure. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re taking me to the man himself?”
Winx felt a snakelike chill creep down her spine. Keaton made an odd growling sound.
“What did I tell you about keeping your thoughts blocked?” Archibald shouted at the guard holding the stranger. “Didn’t I tell you that demons have tricks up their sleeves? What was all of that training for, if not to prevent him from getting disclosed information?”
The guard was turning beet red, but he defended himself. “I’ll be more careful. But come on. That’s something that he was about to find out anyway.”
“We’re going to Chavez?” Winx’s voice was barely above a whisper. The one man who had been trying to kill her all of this time, and she was being led directly to him.
They were taken down a large staircase. Winx dragged her feet the entire way to the point that she was lifted by her arms off of the ground. Beside her, she could hear Keaton attempting the same, though it had to be more difficult with his severe injury. But the stranger was jovial and walked readily, as if leading the troops himself. Didn’t he know what they were about to face?
The closer they got to what was surely the mouth of hell, the more Winx found it in her to fight. Sounds tore from her throat as she violently jerked her body.
They reached a set of doors with distinguished woodwork. Beyond that, the room got a lot darker, with hard floors and no sunlight.
Winx, Keaton, and the stranger were all thrown into a cell together. A heavy metal gate was slammed shut, and the guards walked away.
Despite herself, Winx thought of the last time Chavez had met her in a cell. The memory of the pain and horror, of the shock rendering her body useless, brought Winx to an almost catatonic point. She stared off into the dark, unseeing and frozen in time.
Keaton knew that Winx was not okay. But how could he help her? She was reliving her worst nightmare, and he was completely futile with his injury. His eyes had adjusted in the dark, and he could easily make out Winx’s wide eyes and the grim set of her mouth. Her breath was shallow and uneven. He’d never seen her that way.
The stranger was walking around the cell. He kicked at a low bar with a “humph” and looked at the upper corners with calculation. Keaton decided to mirror him, for lack of anything else to do. He took in their surroundings with a slow sweep of the room.
Besides a few pillars decked with chains, there wasn’t much to see. It was obviously a dungeon, but besides the lack of light, there weren’t many clichéd jail-cell remnants. There weren’t any dank smells or rats along the ground. It may not have been lavish, and it was likely a simple cellar before the bars were erected, but it was obviously cared for. There were vents, but no windows. How deep underground they were wasn’t clear.
“How is she the one flipping out?” the stranger suddenly addressed him.
“What?” Keaton was instantly angry. Winx had every reason to feel the way she did. Chavez was set to murder her.
“She’s of the dark touch.” The stranger said it slow, as if he were speaking to a dog. “And you’re a mongrel. Don’t mongrels lose their shit behind bars?”