Shades of Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  It was still dark, but it was the shadows of night, not magic.

  Chaaya tensed, her narrowed gaze taking in the circle of demons that surrounded them. They were a motley collection of mongrels, but they wore matching maroon and gold uniforms.

  The city guard?

  Dammit.

  She didn’t know how they’d found them, and right now it didn’t matter. The only question was how they could escape.

  Chaaya glanced to the side, discovering Basq on his knees wrapped in a net made of silver. It was easy to see the pain etched on his face and the way his shoulders hunched, as if his strength was being drained away. And it probably was.

  A tall, slender male with long, golden hair approached. He had the features of a fairy but the tusks of an orc. As he neared, he pulled a sword from the scabbard at his side and waved it in Basq’s direction.

  “Come along like a nice girl, and we won’t have to slice open the leech and eat his heart.”

  Chaaya narrowed her gaze. “I don’t do nice.”

  “Hmm. Spunky.” The male smiled, revealing his pointed teeth. “I’m going to have some fun once the chieftain is finished with you.” He glanced toward the gathered guards. “Bring him.”

  Chaaya’s hand strayed toward her spear, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Basq shaking his head. He was warning her not to do anything stupid.

  Stepping aside as two of the guards grabbed Basq and started to drag him down the lane, Chaaya muttered a string of curses she’d perfected over the long centuries. She didn’t have time for this. Not when she had no idea where Brigette was or if the female had a way to travel out of the bulla.

  More importantly, she was terrified that the silver was going to permanently damage Basq if she didn’t find a way to get him out of the net.

  They walked to the very center of the city where a large, lavish palace dominated several blocks. Chaaya lifted her brows in surprise. Unlike the rest of the city, which was built with gray bricks and mortar, this structure was created out of stone and covered with a white stucco. The large windows held brilliant stained glass, and four turrets soared toward the star-speckled sky.

  It looked as if it’d been plucked out of the sun-drenched deserts of Morocco and plopped in the middle of this drab city.

  Bemused, Chaaya passed beneath the arched gateway and watched the heavy double doors of the palace swing open. As a group they moved forward, climbing a sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. They were met by another set of double doors.

  Coming to an abrupt halt, the fey mongrel guard held out an imperious hand. “Weapon.”

  Chaaya arched a brow. “No.”

  The male snapped his fingers. “Give me your weapon or I’ll take it.”

  Chaaya spread her arms wide. “Take it.”

  The guard lost his arrogance as he glanced down at the spear. “Is it cursed?”

  “Touch it and find out.” Chaaya flashed a wide smile. “I double-dog dare you.”

  The male jutted his tusks, clearly torn between caution and pride. Did he risk a nasty curse to save his street cred? Or did he toss pride to the netherworld and save himself from having his manly bits wither and die?

  He was spared the difficult decision when one of the doors was pushed open and an officious-looking imp in a long maroon robe waved an impatient hand.

  “Just let it be,” he commanded in sharp tones. “She’s going to need it anyway.”

  Chaaya grimaced. That didn’t sound good. Before she could ask what the hell he was talking about, the original guard poked his sword into the center of her back.

  “Get in,” he snapped.

  Chaaya forced her feet to carry her through the open door and into the long, cavernous room. She blinked, nearly overwhelmed by the explosion of color and heat and smells.

  The high, vaulted ceiling was coated by layers of gold and precious gems. In the very center a massive chandelier spread a bright glow of light over the richly upholstered furnishings and intricately mosaic tiled floor. The walls were hidden behind crimson tapestries, and a dozen fluted columns marched neatly from one end to the other.

  There were at least thirty to forty mongrel demons spread around the room. Some were dressed in delicate satin and lace, some in uniforms, and others in rough leather.

  A soft groan yanked her attention back to the guards, who were tossing Basq into a corner.

  “I’m in,” she rasped, pointing toward Basq. “Now let him go.”

  “In time,” a low, cultured voice with a hint of a British accent drawled.

  Chaaya spun on her heel, eying the male who was strolling between the columns to stand next to a tall, velvet-covered chair.

  He was short for a male, barely an inch taller than her, with a round head that was not only bald but waxed to reflect the overhead light. His ears were oversized, and the lobes hung nearly to his shoulders, revealing his brownie blood. Weirdly, however, he was wearing a three-piece black suit with a pocket watch and spats over his shiny black shoes. He was even carrying a cane.

  He looked like a Victorian banker who might invite you over for tea and crumpets. Until you looked into his black, soulless eyes. Then you realized that after serving you tea, he would chop you up and eat you for dinner.

  A shiver raced down Chaaya’s spine. “Who are you?”

  The male gave a small dip of his head. “Chieftain Dabbler.”

  “Dabbler?” Chaaya snorted, deliberately taunting the male. She’d discovered that pissing off people made them sloppy. Right now she needed any edge she could get. “Seriously?”

  The male heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I know. A hideous name given to me by my parents. Only one of the reasons I killed them.” He motioned her forward. “And you are?”

  “Chaaya.” She strolled toward the male, whistling as she glanced around. “Wow. This is…something.”

  “Yes, my father designed it himself.”

  “I assume before you killed him?”

  His smile was tight-lipped. “We came here to prevent my human mother from aging. She was a human, you see. Soft and fragile.” He motioned his cane around the room. “His palace was his gift to her. A tangible symbol of his love.”

  “A charming story.”

  “It was.” He heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately they were utterly unreasonable when I suggested that we open our personal paradise to other demons. They were convinced that their privacy was more important than wealth.”

  “You disagreed?”

  “Fervently.”

  Chaaya pretended interest in the demon’s personal history even as she cast a covert glance around the room.

  The demons who were wearing the elegant robes and fancy suits were huddled near the walls. Not out of fear, she realized as she caught sight of the braziers emitting clouds of smoke. The incense was no doubt enchanted. That would explain the dreamy look on their faces. The uniformed guards were spread strategically around the exits, ensuring there was no easy way to escape. Dammit.

  Her gaze started to skim back toward the strange cluster of leather-clad demons when she was distracted by the golden-haired imp that was tied to a column. Not because he looked terrified. He was probably a captive being punished for some misdemeanor. No, it was the amulet that lay against his gray robe that captured her attention. The last time she’d seen it, the eagle-shaped metal had been around Basq’s neck.

  “Cha Cha,” a rough voice called out, pulling her attention toward the towering orc who’d stepped forward.

  “You remember my old friend, Tur?” the chieftain asked.

  “Turd?” Chaaya tilted back her head to laugh. “That’s a worse name than Dabbler.”

  The orc growled but Dabbler studied her with a mysterious smile that didn’t reach his soulless black eyes.

  “Tur warned me you were a feisty thing,�
� he purred. “I’m happy to discover he didn’t exaggerate.”

  Spunky. Feisty. She sounded like a heroine from a fairy tale. A shame this place wasn’t filled with princes and funny dwarves instead of smelly orcs and weird-ass brownies.

  “Why am I here?”

  “It has come to my attention that you arrived in my quaint town without bothering to stop by and introduce yourself.”

  Chaaya shrugged. “I was busy.”

  Dabbler clicked his tongue. “Bad manners are never in fashion, my dear.”

  She took a step backward. Could she get to Basq and drag him out of the palace before they were stopped by the guard? It seemed unlikely.

  “We were planning to come today, but your goon squad attacked us,” she told the male.

  “Were you?” The smile widened. “Ah, delightful news.”

  “So if that’s all cleared up…” She continued to back away, hoping to reach Basq and at least get the silver net off him.

  With a flick of his hand, Dabbler sent two guards to stand between her and the vampire.

  “There is still the small matter of my tithe,” the chieftain reminded her.

  Chaaya grimaced, returning her full attention to Dabbler. She was beginning to suspect that this male had gone to a lot of trouble to set up this encounter. But why?

  Hiding her fear behind a mocking expression, she shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t have my purse on me. Tell you what, I’ll drop a check in the mail.”

  Dabbler rubbed his fingers over the ivory handle of his cane. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Her smile remained even as her mouth dried. “It won’t?”

  Dabbler glanced toward the orc. “Tur came to see me with a highly entertaining story.”

  “Well, he’s a highly entertaining sort of dude,” Chaaya murmured.

  “Indeed he is. Not particularly bright, but he has his uses.” Dabbler glanced back at her. “Shall I reveal what he told me?”

  “I’m on pins and needles.”

  “He told a tale of a slender woman who looked human but managed to overpower an entire horde of demons.”

  Chaaya rolled her eyes. “An entire horde? Turd-head has a vivid imagination.”

  “That’s what I thought, but then the whispers spread through the city. They spoke of a beautiful warrior.” The black, empty eyes drifted over her, leaving behind the sensation of being slathered in evil. “Of course I simply had to discover the truth for myself.”

  She squashed her shiver. There was no way in hell she was going to give Dabbler the satisfaction of knowing how much he unnerved her.

  “Discover what?” she asked.

  Dabbler spread his arms. “If you fight as well as they claim.”

  Chaaya blinked. “You want to fight me?”

  “Oh, not me. I’m a businessman, not a warrior.” The male quickly destroyed her brief hope, pointing toward the orc. “I have another opponent in mind.”

  Chaaya pulled her spear. She should have guessed that was the reason the orc and his leather-clad buddies were in the elegant palace. They certainly didn’t fit with the décor.

  The question was whether it was just Tur or the backup band as well.

  “I’ve already beat Dirty Turdy,” she said, deliberately goading the oversized lump of muscle. Orcs weren’t famous for their even temperament. “I don’t do encores.”

  Tur’s eyes flashed a fiery crimson. “Not fair fight.”

  “There, you see?” Dabbler said in regretful tones. “He says it wasn’t fair. I fear I must insist on a rematch.”

  Chaaya watched the orc stomp forward. “And if I say no?”

  “The vampire dies.” Dabbler’s cold eyes held no emotion. He would kill everyone in the room without the slightest remorse.

  That made him far more dangerous than the orcs.

  She stroked her fingers along the hilt of the spear, igniting the magic etched into the glyphs.

  “What do I get if I agree?”

  Dabbler looked surprised by the question. “You live.”

  She shook her head. “Not good enough. I’m not fighting until you remove the net from my companion.”

  “These aren’t negotiations,” he chided.

  “Then find someone else to amuse you.”

  The chieftain hesitated, as if stunned by her audacity. Obviously, he’d been the big cheese for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to have his orders questioned. Still, his affable manner remained firmly intact as he nodded toward the guards.

  “Remove the net but keep a close eye on him. If he tries to escape, then stake him.”

  Chaaya watched in silence as the guards warily untangled Basq from the net. In the bright light she could easily see the angry red wounds burned deep into his flesh, but it was the limp, boneless way he sprawled on the floor that clutched at her heart. How badly was he hurt?

  She started to take a step toward him when Dabbler slammed his cane against a small gong set next to the chair. The sound echoed through the room loud enough to make several demons flinch.

  “Ready?” He motioned Chaaya toward the center of the room.

  “What are the rules?” she asked, feeling the familiar tingles of magic from her spear as she strolled toward the starburst created by the gold and amber mosaic tiles.

  “The rules are that there are no rules,” Dabbler informed her.

  “Ah. My kind of fight.” She twirled the spear, crouching low. “Let’s play, Turd-head.”

  The orc released a bark of annoyance, but he wasn’t so infuriated that he forgot to grab a heavy wooden cudgel from one of his ugly cohorts.

  “Tur,” he growled, stomping toward her. “Me Tur. You Cha Cha.”

  The orc rambled to the center of the room, loosely holding the cudgel in one hand. He looked big and awkward and stupid as a box of rocks. But Chaaya wasn’t fooled. The moment he started his fierce charge, he moved with a fluid speed that caught most demons off guard.

  Twisting aside, she easily avoided his attack. At the same time, she carefully watched the cunning expression that settled on his blunt face. He had a strategy. One that had no doubt worked a thousand times before.

  With a hungry grin, he charged again, acting as if it was going to be the same as the last one. Then, at the last possible moment, he swung his cudgel.

  There was a whistling sound as the weapon sliced through the air, aimed directly at her head. The crowd gasped, no doubt expecting to be splattered with blood and brains. But already anticipating the move, Chaaya easily leaped over the cudgel, slashing her spear to slice off the tip of his ear.

  The orc skidded to a halt, his hand raised to cover his wounded ear. The skin of orcs was too thick for most blades to penetrate, but her spear was enhanced with magic. She still needed to stab him in the heart to kill him, but he was definitely distracted. And pissed off.

  Exactly what she wanted.

  “Cha Cha,” he snarled.

  “Did you say you want to cha-cha?” she taunted. “I prefer a partner who doesn’t have two left feet, but I suppose you’ll do.”

  He raised the cudgel over his head. “Me bash you.”

  Chaaya wiggled her fingers in a “come here” motion. “Let’s dance.”

  He charged again, this time swinging his club in an upward motion as he anticipated Chaaya leaping over it. That was the problem with orcs. They had no imagination.

  Waiting until the last possible second, Chaaya ducked low, sticking her spear between his legs. The oversized creature cried out as he tripped over the weapon, falling on his face with a ground-shaking impact.

  Chaaya swiftly straightened, intending to leap on the orc and put an end to the fight. But a flicker out of the corner of her eye warned her that an idiot from the peanut gallery was about to do a sneak attack.

  Spinning with b
linding speed, Chaaya kicked out, catching the mongrel on the side of the head. The creature was knocked to his knees, and without hesitation, Chaaya sliced him open from stomach to throat. The creature’s skin wasn’t nearly as thick as a regular orc’s, and the blade slid through like a hot knife through butter.

  The room went silent as the mongrel gazed down in horror. Blood and a few vital organs spilled out of the wound, landing on the marble floor with an audible plop. The creature gave a keening cry as he leaped to his feet and dashed for the nearest exit. Chaaya glanced around, silently daring the rest of the booster club to jump in. As one, they all stepped back.

  Slowly she turned to see Tur advancing with wary steps. “Tired of game,” he muttered.

  So was Chaaya. Although she continued to smile and weave the spear in an elegant series of figure eights, she could feel her strength draining away. The sooner she could end the fight, the better.

  But how?

  The orc might be stupid, but he wasn’t suicidal. He wouldn’t use a direct assault that might leave any vulnerable spots available to her spear. Not when he could simply use his cudgel to keep her at a distance and wait for a lucky strike.

  It was the near-blinding glitter from the tiled floor that offered a sudden inspiration.

  “We just started,” she taunted, stepping back.

  Tur scowled. “Me bash.”

  “Yawn. I heard you the first time.” She spread her arms wide. “If we’re going to banter, at least try to be inventive.”

  With an angry roar, Tur swiped the cudgel in her direction. She leaped to the side, then with a loud cry, she pretended to lose her balance and fell to her knees.

  Tur grinned, taking a long step toward her as he anticipated a quick end to the battle.

  “Not so smart-mouth now, eh, girlie?”

  Rolling to the side, Chaaya clenched her muscles and threw the spear with every ounce of power she had left in her. It sailed upward, but it missed the orc who jerked out of its path. That was fine with Chaaya. She wasn’t aiming at Tur. Her target was the chandelier above their heads.

  It was a risky gamble, but it paid off as the blade connected with the iron chain that attached the massive light to the ceiling.