by Eve Langlais
“No one knows.”
“I need to leave.” Surrounded by all the death, she couldn’t handle it. The flickers of movement, the sense of hearing something, her fear threatened to strangle her.
Panic fluttered in her breast, exacerbated by the cold breeze that ruffled through the room. How did it find them so far underground? And why did it seem to come from below?
Outside the crypt, she glanced down the stairs. The luminescent paint was faded this deep underground, or was it that the air turned darker? An ominous sensation subdued the light and chilled the blood, almost as if something wicked approached.
“Something’s not right,” she muttered.
“Understatement,” Darius replied as he took up a fighting stance. He stared down the steps and, without turning to look at her, gave her an order. “Get going up the stairs. Quickly now.”
“Is it the storm mage?”
“No. Worse than that.”
A grim statement that galvanized her more than anything. The type of creature that lived in this place of death wasn’t something she wanted to meet.
She jogged up the steps, huffing and puffing, unintelligible whispers swirling around her, but she could have sworn she felt their malignancy. Even imagined anger on the part of the voices, an irritation because Shereen and Darius had disturbed their tomb.
“Move faster!” Darius barked from behind.
Like an idiot, she whirled to look back. He was several steps below her, dagger in one hand, pistol in the other. Adrenaline had his body and expression taut.
Her eyes widened. “Darius?”
“I don’t mean to panic you, princess, but you do need to get your sweet ass moving.”
Something lurched into view, clawed fingers reaching for Darius. The arms spindly, the flesh suctioned to the muscle. She gasped. It might have been human. Once. Now it was a thing of gray limbs, loose, wrinkled skin, a wiry frame with the arms overly long, and the legs more like an animal’s. Splotches marked it in places. Monster freckles, she thought hysterically.
It had an oblong face with a fat nose and white, staring eyes, no pupils in them. No lashes or brows either. But it did have thin lips peeled back over jagged teeth. It was a boy. Or had been. Most definitely.
The thing reached for Darius, who sliced at it, severing a hand that hit the floor and drew her gaze to taloned fingers that spasmed. Fear rooted her in place.
“Run!” Darius yelled, snapping the spell of terror.
Heaving in a deep breath, she climbed as fast as she could, thighs burning, lungs heaving. She wasted no breath to complain about the number of stairs. Her only thought was to escape.
The movement she’d thought she imagined multiplied, and it didn’t help that, as she passed the bricked doorways, she could hear scratching. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch against the stone.
It brought a strangled moan. She’d have nightmares about this for sure.
It took forever to reach the waning daylight of the main floor. She did her best not to listen to the hissing and the occasional thudding noises as Darius chopped with his knife, covering their retreat.
When she emerged on ground level, she took a few stumbling steps before leaning over and putting her hands on her thighs to gasp for air. She was allowed no reprieve as Darius followed. He dashed past, snaring her hand and jolting her into motion. He dragged her across the dusty floors until they’d exited the castle and passed the gates into daylight. Only then did he slow his steps and huff out a deep breath.
“Well, that was a good workout for the day.”
The glare she shot him? Totally deserved. “It is much too soon to joke about almost getting killed by monsters.”
“Almost? Bah!” He slashed a hand as he led them at a casual pace to the stairs. “Not a mark on us.”
“Except for the mental scarring,” she muttered. “What were those things?” She glanced back at the receding gates. They remained askew and empty. Nothing had emerged to chase them.
“Ghouls,” was his short reply.
“Ghouls?” Her nose wrinkled at the term.
“You might know of them as swamp demons.”
Her brows rose. “Those aren’t real.” They were the bogey used in stories to frighten.
“Would you like to go back downstairs and explain that to them?” he said with an arched brow.
A shiver wracked her frame. “No, thank you.” She could all too easily picture its grotesque features. Made even more uncanny because she could see the hints of human in it. “How did they get inside? I thought you said this place was abandoned.”
“I don’t know where they come from, just that they appear in the darkest of places and you can avoid them so long as you remain in the light.”
“There was light, though.”
He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Usually, they wouldn’t have come after us unless it was really dark. Could be the glow used in the crypt was on a spectrum that doesn’t harm them. Or they’re adapting.” Which had an ominous ring to it. “Whatever the case, we should probably head back to the ship before darkness falls and they come looking.”
“You think they’ll attack?”
“These days with ghouls, you never know,” he muttered, which caused another shudder.
Daylight waned as clouds moved in. Exposed in the open they had nothing to protect them from the wind that whipped them. Lightning cracked overhead. She hugged herself.
Head lifted into the breeze, Darius mumbled, “At least this time I can smell the storm rolling in.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s real and not magic,” he said, holding out his hand.
She didn’t hesitate to grab it. Holding on to him had a calming effect.
He led the way to the steps, and she did her best to skip down them quickly while not plunging to her death. It didn’t help that the wind whipped, frothing the water, rocking the tethered boat, sending up red droplets of spray, stoking her fear of the deadly sea. But at the same time, exultation filled her. The wildness of the elements didn’t make her feel anxious or ill for once. But she didn’t agree it was one hundred percent natural. Not the way it sang.
“Are you sure it’s not another water mage?” she mused aloud.
“It’s a possibility, but my gut says this one is real. There’s a certain smell to a storm when it rolls in. A feel to the air that seems lacking when a storm psion is handling it.”
She sniffed, absorbing the moisture-laden air, wondering too late if the suspended water dewing her skin was dangerous. “Will the rain kill us?”
“Not that I know of. Just like a few stray drops of seawater doesn’t kill most people.” His reply was not reassuring.
They reached the dock, her legs burning from all the climbing, and she made her way around gaps and holes in the boards. His hand shot out and grabbed her, yanking her back as a wave sloshed to the edge of the dock.
“Watch yourself now. You don’t want to get too wet.”
“Someone should really think about cleaning this bay up,” she grumbled as they made it to the rocking ship. She eyed the dangling ladder that jiggled in motion with the boat. “I’m going to fall in.”
She didn’t even realize she said it aloud until he stood behind her and whispered, the hot breath of his words tickling her ear, “Don’t worry, princess. I’ve got you covered.”
By covered, he meant toss her over his shoulder so she could either stare at his butt or the wet rock of the dock and passing stray drops. He was much more assured climbing that ladder than she would have been and soon had them on deck. The waves weren’t hitting high enough to soak anything yet, but best not take a chance. He guided them toward the metal box that housed the bridge and a few rooms.
“Get your butt to the cabin and make sure it’s sealed just in case it gets ugly.”
“Ugly how?”
“Have you never experienced a storm at sea?” At the shake of her head, he explained. “Big waves could flip us, and we don’
t want to flood.”
The very possibility got her feet moving. Inside the cabin, she latched the door but didn’t lock it. Despite his instructions, she kept her eye on the porthole in the wall, watching as the ship rocked in the bay. Hard to believe it could kill. The color was disturbing, being similar to blood, and yet it had none of the rancidness you’d expect. Rather, the scent of it was more chemical than anything.
If she craned, she could see the former Lazuli stronghold, a haunted sentinel abandoned by the people who’d told her father they could help her yet apparently couldn’t help themselves. As to their claim they could awaken the dormant deviant gene inside her...
She never did find out if they could because her father didn’t like the price. Not the price he’d pay. Her father had no issue giving people over to the Lazuli to experiment on, no questions asked. There was always a steady stream of criminals that required handling. What her father balked at was the lack of guarantee the treatment wouldn’t change Shereen in a bad way.
She understood his fear, that if they tried to activate her Deviant gene and it reacted badly, she’d suddenly become inhuman. It happened with some who activated late in life, the growth of extra limbs or scales, things that set them apart. In a sense, having something that set her apart would have been a blessing because then the Enclave would leave her alone. They had no use for imperfection.
I could be free. All she had to do was find the Lazuli and make a deal.
The ship remained docked and heaved at its ropes. Oddly enough, the agitation of it didn’t bother her belly. Her head, though? It pounded. She rubbed at her temples, feeling as if something tried to hammer its way in.
The pain reminded her of something Tanzie had given her. Some kind of powder to help with pain that she’d hoped might soothe her seasickness. A spoonful of the acrid stuff made her wince, but soon she felt blessed relief in her head. She relaxed, body and mind. Finally, she achieved clarity over the turmoil she’d been struggling with.
Hide with her uncle or become what she was always meant to be?
Everything seemed so clear now. Why waste her time cowering behind others when she was so close to the people who could help her?
I should go to the Lazuli. Agree to their bargain. The captain would be happy to be rid of her.
I mustn’t tell him. He’ll try to stop me. She didn’t quite grasp why he would, and yet the conviction in her meant she paced her room instead of seeking Darius out.
Patience. Wait until they’re asleep. She couldn’t let them see her. Couldn’t let them stop her. She had to get off this ship.
Shereen waited until the boat stopped rocking and a calm settled on the ship. She bided her time until she thought everyone might be slumbering before she finally slipped out of the room, an inner voice urging her to hurry.
Hurry. Hurry. They are waiting.
Who was waiting?
She couldn’t think past the fog in her head that ordered her to drop the chain link ladder over the side. The clanging of metal sounded loud in the calm night air.
Hurry.
She quickly clambered down, more agile than usual, motivated as well. Accepting the Lazuli deal would solve all her problems. She just had to get inside the keep. She’d find help there.
It made no sense, but sense no longer mattered or drove her steps. It was only halfway up the crumbling stone steps that she heard the shout.
“Princess, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The yell jarred with the inner voice that kept telling her to hurry.
She blinked.
Keep moving. Don’t let him stop you.
She glanced down the steps. Swallowed hard as she noted her precarious perch. How had she gotten outside? Why had she gone outside?
“Stupid woman. Get your ass back down here right this instant,” Darius hollered again.
She wanted to follow his instructions, but she froze in fear instead and then moaned as the voice in her head began to shout.
Move it. Climb those steps. Now!
Not her voice she realized.
“No,” she said softly, crouching against the rock wall, pressing her hands against her ears. The headache returned full force, a throbbing pain that helped her ignore the yammering demand within.
A wind rose out of nowhere, tugging at her. Worse were the raindrops suddenly slamming into her exposed skin. A pebble bounced past her, and she glanced to the top of the staircase. The person standing at the top wore a cloak that whipped in the gusty breeze.
She could almost see the mental whisper. Come here. Now. I command you.
Command? A cold shiver went through her.
You will obey!
A stubborn desire to thwart had her gasping, and the storm gathered in intensity, flailing her skin, chilling her to the bone, distracting her from the mental demand.
She felt the stranger’s frustration. Move, you dumb cunt.
The voice in her head no longer tried to cajole. She felt its alien presence inside her, pushing to control. But she’d awoken from the spell they’d cast and fought against it, sobbing.
“No. No. No. Leave me alone.”
Obey.
The jabbing pain in her skull sent her to her knees, almost toppling from the stairs. Just as she teetered, a hand grabbed her and shoved her into the wall. “Hold on, princess. I’ve got this.”
Then the pirate was sweeping past her, an incoherent battle cry on his lips. She blinked as Darius confronted the cloaked figure and shattered the grip on her mind.
The cloaked figure apparently wasn’t in the mood to fight. It spun and ran. The pirate reached the top and gave chase.
All she could do was hug the wall, terrified, anxious, and even a touch angry at being so susceptible as the storm turned even more violent, determined to suck her into its maw. She closed her eyes as it raged around her. Kept them closed until she heard the scuff of a foot on stone.
Friend or foe?
Her eyes opened just as lightning flashed and a familiar voice cursed.
“Fuck me, you look like a drowned rat.”
Through the whipping rain, she saw Darius standing just above her on the stairs, tall and strong against the battering storm.
Unafraid.
Whereas she trembled.
She wanted to be brave.
He reached for her, drew her shivering frame into his arms, and murmured, “It’s over. You’re safe now.”
For a moment, in his arms, she believed him.
Chapter 8
The princess clung to him, shaking with cold and fear. Despite the danger of the storm, Darius stood there, holding her. Hugging her. Basking in the fact she was safe.
Then he held her out at arm’s length and yelled, “Why the fuck did you leave the room?”
She blinked wet lashes at him. “There was a voice in my head.”
“You should have ignored it.”
She stiffened, suddenly indignant. “I didn’t know it wasn’t mine until I was already outside.”
“Do you know how close you came to dying?” His heart still hadn’t recovered. It was only because he’d gone to do his rounds during the storm that he’d caught sight of a figure moving up those stairs. At first, he’d been annoyed, thinking the stupid woman was running away. Then there was an angry relief because if she left, then he could sail away without guilt.
However, he’d found Tanzie’s slumped figure by the mast. She never slept on her watch. Another glance a Shereen on the steps and he paid attention to the way she moved and reacted when he called out. It became obvious the princess wasn’t leaving of her own volition, which meant he had to go chasing up those stairs. Way too many stairs for a man who usually only paced the length of his ship.
Still, he’d run and climbed, past the shaking princess. When he hit the top of the cliff the winds buffeted, wilder and angrier than before, but that didn’t stop him from chasing after the assassin. He couldn’t toss a knife, not in that gale force.
> The person in the cloak had run for the castle, only they never made it. Darius didn’t stick around to see whether the ghouls that snatched it would be satisfied with their snack. He’d headed straight for Shereen.
“Am I going to have to lock you in the room?” he grumbled, not ready to let go of his anger—an anger that wasn’t really directed at her but came from within. I failed to protect her.
“It wasn’t my fault,” she huffed, losing her pathetic mien to irritation.
A better look he thought. “Did your father not teach you how to block out mental commands?”
“I don’t have that kind of power.”
“Then what kind do you have?”
“None.”
“Surely—”
She shook her head. “I’m mundane through and through.”
“Then why are they trying to kill you?” he asked, unable to hide his bafflement. “It’s not as if you could be queen.” Even he knew how it worked with the Enclave. No psionic power, no magic, no title.
“As you said before, my father was well liked.”
“And even without power, you have his blood.” He sighed. Heavily. “Looks like the storm is dying down.” The wind barely gusted, and the rain had stopped falling.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—”
“Shut it, princess. I’m not in the mood for an apology for something you didn’t do.”
“Then how should I react?”
“Get pissed. This is your life. You should be angry people are fucking with it.”
Her mouth opened and shut a few times. “What does getting mad do?”
“Lets you vent.” His lips quirked. “And then you plan how you’re going to get revenge.”
“Maybe you can. I don’t fight.”
“Then learn. Starting with, don’t stick around for a losing battle. Let’s get back to the ship before those ghouls decide to get curious.”
When she stumbled and almost slipped off, he didn’t hesitate to swing her into his arms. Probably safest he carry her. Never mind the fact he liked having her close. Holding her cradled to his chest, he brought her down the steps and handed her off to Jorah once he reached the ship. The first mate set Shereen on her feet on the deck, and Darius landed alongside a moment later.