Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  “Consider it done.”

  The swoosh of slippers on a parquet floor reached them.

  Dominik tucked her hood over her face. “You don’t want to start a whole lot of fresh rumors about the Soul-Reaper. Those will come quickly enough without you helping them along.” He even made sure that Soul-Forged was lost in the folds.

  It warmed her that he cared enough to worry about her reputation. “And you? Or do you often frequent brothels in Woocerk?”

  The smile he shot her was so salacious it robbed her of all her fear at seeing Zella. She bumped shoulders with him to say thank you.

  A lock clicked. A Fae with auburn hair swept up in a tangle of curls held together with pearl pins poked her head around the door. Her pouty lips, painted a deep cherry red, turned up in a sultry smile. “Good evening,” she purred. She stroked her tattooed hand down Dominik’s chest. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

  Caeda’s ears burned, and her fists clenched.

  “Oooh, Nasty Reaper is jealous! Isn’t this fun.”

  Not bothering to deny it, she scowled under her hood, mostly at herself.

  “Zella,” Dominik crooned.

  The hostess ran a long, red fingernail down his face. “Great choice. I’m sure you’ll enjoy her.”

  She nearly gagged. She didn’t need to know that.

  “But,” the hostess continued, “groups do cost extra—”

  She was about to start digging in her pockets for money when Dominik whipped out a pouch. He folded the hostess’s fingers around it.

  Coins clanged together.

  The hostess peered inside it, and her eyes widened. So did her smile. Her straight white teeth matched the pearly transparent dress tumbling from her shoulders. She pocketed the bag of coins. “Right this way.”

  The bells around her ankles jingled as she led them up a narrow stairway.

  Soul-Forged hummed along with them.

  The hostess stopped at the landing to a dingy passageway lined with closed doors. From a shelf, she scooped up an hourglass and held it out to Dominik. “Fourth on the right. Zella will start the timer when she welcomes you.” She sauntered back down the stairs, bells ringing in her wake.

  She clenched and unclenched her fists as they walked to her sister. “There’s no guarantee she’ll help,” she murmured.

  Dominik’s fingers brushed the small of her back. “Then we’ll figure out something else.”

  They stopped outside the fourth door. It was ruby red with a once white, now faded, lotus flower painted on it.

  She took a deep breath and pushed it open.

  The reek of sex, ylang-ylang, jasmine, and cheap peach wine was nauseating. A colossal bed covered with ruby-colored satin stood in the middle of the room.

  Dressed in a red dress that revealed more than it hid, Zella stood with her back to them at a dressing table. Her golden hair—inherited from their mother—tumbled in waves down her bare back. Lines of pierced jewels decorated her pointed ears.

  “Turn the hourglass,” Zella commanded as she poured wine into two glasses. Her fingers rasped as she picked the glasses up. She turned—

  The devastating smile on her rosebud lips froze. Her icy blue eyes narrowed in on Caeda.

  She offered a small, careful smile. “Hi, Zella. It’s good to see you.”

  Silence, so tense, so tangible, settled like a shroud. Even Soul-Forged stopped humming. No doubt he waited for drama to smirk over.

  Zella’s crimson lips thinned. She tipped back a glass of wine and chugged. Some of the sparkling liquid dribbled down her chin. She wiped it away with a trembling hand. “They aren’t paying me enough for this.”

  Zella threw back the second glass. Hands shaking, she slammed them back down on the dresser. “I’m assuming you’re not here to shag me, so what do you want, Caeda? Or should I call you Lady Soul-Reaper now?”

  So Zella knew of her… promotion. She stiffened, not sure what to do with her limbs. In all the panic, she hadn’t stopped to consider what Zella would think of her calling. Or what their brutish father and wimpish mother would say when she eventually met with them again.

  She cleared her throat and splayed her fingers. “‘Caeda’ still works.”

  Zella scoffed and crossed her slender arms over her chest. She jerked her chin at Dominik. “Who’s he?”

  She pivoted to look at him. His brutal face could never look unthreatening, but he’d allowed a smile to soften his features. Still, something dark rolled beneath the calm. “Dominik. He’s helping me.”

  Zella chuckled. There was no amusement in the sound. “Well, then, let’s see it.”

  She frowned. “See what?”

  Zella arched a perfectly groomed brow. “The Sword everyone is so crazy about.”

  Caeda schooled her face into something bland and calm—although she guessed Zella had emphasized crazy on purpose. “That’s partially why I’m here.”

  “Oh?” Zella pursed her lips. “So you’re not planning to drag me back”—she scowled—“home? Having a whore for a sister must be especially inconvenient now, Lady Caeda.”

  She bristled but took a deep breath. Some of the taunt had merit. In the beginning when Zella still worked the streets, before she had the protection of a pleasure house, desperate for her safety and well-being, Caeda had tried to take her back to their parents’ home.

  It had been a mistake.

  But how could she have known that being beaten up and humiliated by strangers on the streets was better than being beaten up and humiliated by their father?

  For years, she had regretted taking Zella back there, and she wished she could have done things differently, but at the time, she too had been struggling to survive. It had taken all her strength and will to create a new life for herself in the military. By the time she’d gotten her act together, it had been too late to rescue her relationship with Zella.

  She shook her head. “Lesson learned. Not happening again.”

  Zella’s face twisted with—

  Was that sadness?

  Whatever her sister had been feeling vanished. Zella straightened her back. “So what, then?”

  She gnawed her cheek and then shook her head. This wasn’t the time to read things she wanted to see in her sister’s expressions. “Like I said, I need—”

  “Zella asked to see your Sword.” Dominik swept her cloak aside to reveal Soul-Forged in his sheath. “So let’s show her.”

  Soul-Forged chose that moment to glow bright blue. He chortled. “Sad Fae is so much smarter at the manipulation game than you are, Nasty Reaper. He says and does what Fae want to see and hear. Take lessons.”

  She swallowed. Did that include telling her that he loved her?

  Eyes gleaming, Zella took a step closer. She held out her hand like a child reaching for a candy. “So it really does glow. That’s amazing.”

  She nodded dumbly. The allure of the Soul-Reaper and her Sword… Who knew it would touch even Zella? How long had it been since she’d seen anything but hate and disinterest on her sister’s lovely face?

  Dominik elbowed her. Hard. “The Sword has a name. Doesn’t it, Reaper?”

  She gulped. “Um… yes. Soul-Forged. And he talks. A lot. All the time.” She pulled him from the sheath and held him up in the air. “It’s the constant yapping that drives Soul-Reapers mad. Or I suspect that’s what happens. But I guess time will tell.”

  “I do not yap! That is reserved for small dogs and monkeys. I converse delightfully.”

  Yeah. Right. Shut up and glow.

  He took her at her word and sparked with blue and red light.

  Zella took a hasty step back. She bumped into the dresser, rattling the wine bottle and glasses. “He won’t try and kill us? Like today at the parade?”

  “Not another one who accuses me!” Soul-Forged hissed. “This really is outrageous.”

  She dropped him to her side. “You were at the parade?”

  Zella’s face heated. “I might be a who
re, Caeda, but I still love Yatres. Of course I was at the parade.” All wonder gone, she stared at Soul-Forged with fear-filled eyes. “You didn’t bring it here to threaten me, did you?”

  “Of course not!” She huffed. “As if I ever would. Like I said, we need you—”

  “Zella, as a loyal subject of the king,” Dominik interrupted, “I’m sure you care about the Bone as much as you do the Sword.”

  Zella pulled away from the dresser. She clasped her neck with shaking hands. “We owe our greatness to the Bone.” She looked first at Dominik and then at her. “There isn’t a Fae in Yatres who doesn’t revere the Bone.”

  Soul-Forged was right about Dominik. She clamped her jaw shut, leaving it to him to deal with Zella—who seemed unnaturally nervous about the turn of the conversation.

  He moved to the dresser, put the hourglass down, and poured wine into the two glasses. He held one out to Zella. “Then you wouldn’t like to hear that the Bone has been stolen?”

  Zella sank down onto the bed. “You… you think I know something about it!” Her fists clenched. “How dare you even suspect such a thing?”

  Caeda plunked down next to her sister, hating where this crazy conversation was going. “That’s insane. Why would I suspect you?”

  Zella jumped up and moved away. “Then why are you here?”

  “What’s this?” The sharpness in Dominik’s voice pulled her and Zella’s attention to him. He had put down the glasses and held out a silver medallion on a tarnished chain.

  A scarlet blush, almost as red as her dress, infused Zella’s exposed skin. She pounced across the room and tried to snatch the medallion from his hand. He whisked it into the air before she got her claws on it.

  As it swung, the engraved sigil of a rose pierced by an arrow glinted in the candlelight.

  Her breath caught. “That’s Nyhan!”

  How had Zella gotten a Nyhan medallion? Had the owner been a client? And if so, how many more Nyhans were there in the city? And could they be involved with the loss of the Bone?

  Zella covered her face with her hands. She moaned and then looked up defiantly. “I don’t know how you found out, but it’s not what you think, honestly.”

  Sickened to her stomach, she said, “Explain.”

  “If they know, they’ll throw me out. I’ll be back on the streets.” Zella grabbed her hand, an action almost more shocking than the terror twisting her face. “I can’t do the streets. Not again. But the pay…” She slapped Caeda’s cheek. “Typical of you! All you do is ruin things.”

  Before she’d even clasped her stinging cheek, Dominik bore down on Zella. His eyes were green pinpoints of fury. “We get it. You’re moonlighting. But who gave you this medallion?”

  She shoved his chest. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

  Zella still held one of her hands.

  Caeda covered it with her other hand. “I came here tonight because my crazy Sword showed me a tavern with a stag’s head mounted on a red wall. I think it’s somewhere here in Woocerk, and I wanted your help in finding it. I honestly didn’t think for one second that you were mixed up with the theft of the Bone. Now, as ludicrous as this is, I suddenly have doubts. Please, put my mind at rest.”

  Zella gnawed her thumbnail. “That could be one of a dozen taverns.”

  She folded her arms expectantly.

  Zella sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ve been working a tavern on Garnet Street in my spare time. It’s rough, but I get to keep most of my takings. I met the Nyhan there. He roughed me up, so I stole the medallion.” She punched the bed. “Payback.”

  It pained her that her sister worked there. Garnet Street was a favorite haunt to some of the nastier citizens of Upper Whaivag.

  “Are there other Nyhans there?” Dominik demanded.

  Zella shrugged. “How would I know? I don’t ask questions, and I don’t give information, either. No one in that place does. It was only when I got back here to start my shift that I noticed the sigil on the medallion.” She glared at Caeda. “And then you showed up.”

  She believed her sister. She drew in a long, deep breath.

  Dominik tossed the medallion onto the dresser. “And if he comes looking for you?”

  Zella’s face hardened. “Then I’ll stick a knife in him.”

  “Not if I get to him first.” She stood. “Garnet Street. It doesn’t happen to be one of the half a dozen taverns with a stag’s head on the wall, does it?”

  Zella looked down at her hands. “Be careful, Caeda. If the Bone is at the Ivory Hawk, they probably won’t welcome the Soul-Reaper and her Sword.”

  That was all the answer she needed. She gave Zella a one-armed hug and strode to the door.

  It was time to rescue her Bone.

  17

  Caeda’s teeth chattered and her hands trembled—partially from the cold, and partially from relief. All things considered, her conversation with Zella had gone exceptionally well. And now they had a lead on where the Bone could be.

  A good one.

  A fresh whistle of wind and snow blasted down the narrow alleyway she and Dominik struggled through on their way to the Ivory Hawk.

  She kept her head low as they passed a group of Fae with bloodshot eyes leaving an opium den. The stench of the drug clogged her nostrils. Expecting trouble, she rested her hand on Soul-Forged’s hilt.

  When had the creature become such a comfort?

  “Is the Nasty Mistress learning to trust Soul-Forged?” He scoffed. “Soul-Forged told the Nasty Mistress that no other Sword would serve her better, but did she listen? No.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. Can you tell if the Bone is nearby?

  He hummed loudly.

  She rolled her eyes. A block away from Garnet Street, she stopped to speak to Dominik. “How do we want to play this? Should we send a flare up for Dain?”

  He sidled closer, his limited warmth washing over her. She leaned into it. “Let’s first order a drink and see what we can learn about these new Fae in town. Maybe we’ll get an idea of who’s running the show. You also might be able to feel the Bone calling.”

  “Dain is going to kill me.”

  “He won’t if there’s nothing to see.”

  With no real counter-argument, she pushed through a particularly narrow archway into a small square. The roof of the building ahead sagged under the weight of the snow. It piled against the walls, almost concealing the black slime clinging to them and to the cracked front door. The green paint on the door was flaked and peeling. The white bird painted on the snowy sign hung above the door was starting to rub off, too.

  The Ivory Hawk Tavern.

  She stopped in a dark corner and waited for Dominik to reach her. He squeezed her hand and then tucked her cloak around her. “Tell Soul-Forged to behave himself.”

  She clutched at Soul-Forged’s hilt. No blue light, or we’re dead.

  Soul-Forged grunted.

  The door squealed loudly as she opened it. The stink of mildew, piss, ale, and tobacco smoke assaulted her as she stepped into a long, narrow room with a low ceiling. The walls were plastered in dark-red paper. The upper corners peeled back, revealing the moldy brick beneath. A fire spluttered in a filthy hearth. Up on the wall above it were rows and rows of mounted animals. In pride of place was a mangy stag’s head.

  Dominik threw her a knowing glance.

  The bar was crowded with laughing Fae with their pleasure workers. A barmaid shoved one of the drunks off her. He sprawled off his stool onto the filthy wooden floor. His buddies roared with laughter.

  Dominik’s hand clamped around her arm. “I’ll get us some drinks. You find a spot to sit.” His mouth brushed her ear. “See if you and Soul-Forged can sense the Bone.”

  She made her way to an empty booth. As she shuffled onto the grimy red bench, she glanced once at the booth across from her. Six Fae armed with blades were crammed into it. They drank mugs of ale, talking in hushed tones. She didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t mean anythin
g; none of the faces in the tavern were familiar.

  She patted Soul-Forged’s pommel. You getting anything? Because I’m not.

  “One bottle, two bottles, three bottles, four bottles—”

  She frowned. What are you counting?

  “The bottles of mead on the shelf above the bar.”

  That isn’t helpful. Do you feel our Bone?

  “My Bone, you mean? The one you want to cremate.”

  She sighed. Stop being a child! Trust me, if the Nyhans have your Bone, they won’t hesitate to use it—and you and me—in the most diabolical way.

  Soul-Forged made a farting sound.

  Dominik inched into the seat opposite her and plunked two mugs of ale down on the wet table. “There’s a small door behind the bar,” he whispered. “It could lead to a basement or a cellar.”

  “The door I saw was made of new iron.”

  “This wasn’t iron, but there could be another door behind it. Though I didn’t sense anything.” He sniffed and poked at a foam bubble on his drink. “This place is disgusting. I swear I saw a rat scuttling behind the bar.”

  She snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you found essence of rat in your drink.”

  He blanched. “I didn’t need to know that.”

  She chuckled. “Fastidious? I would never have said that about you.”

  His eyes softened, and the barest hint of a smile graced his lips. “You’re so beautiful when you laugh.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks, and she resisted the urge to bite her lip. “You’re also a shameless and ridiculous flirt. And we have a job to do, so focus. Soul-Forged is being uncooperative.”

  Dominik chuckled into his drink. “Well, then—” His smile fell, and his spine stiffened. He pulled his hood up. “Speaking of shameless and ridiculous, guess who just walked in?”

  She glanced at the bar.

  A silver-haired Fae shook off her cloak and perched on a barstool.

  The breath whistled between her teeth. “What the hell is Izanna doing here?”

  “Is she a suspect on your list?”

  “On the top of the list. More so now than ever.” She pulled her cloak up, looking anywhere but at Izanna. Now wasn’t the time to mention that his father vied for top spot with her. That wasn’t news to be blurted in the middle of a sensitive operation. “How would she know to come here? She has to be involved.”