by Bree Despain
We ride for what feels like another couple of miles. The rocky cliffs and plateaus melt away into rolling dunes of gray sand the farther we move down the path that leads to the river. The sounds of this strange world grow louder, creating a mixture of foreign melodies. The louder it gets, the more my confidence grows. Then, from over the horizon of the sand dunes, another, eerier sound fills my ears. A terrible, moaning groan I’ve heard only once before. I know I’m not the only one who can hear it when Garrick stiffens beside me. He grips the reins and whispers, “Shades.”
From the sound of them, the Shades are not far off, and the river has just come into sight over the horizon. I see the boat waiting. It’s more the size of a yacht than the little skiff I had sailed before using my powers, but I still might be able to handle it.
If only I can get there before the rest of the search party.
“Pick up the pace,” Garrick shouts to the front chariot driver. “We need to get to the river!”
The two chariots in front of us speed up, and Garrick commands our horses into a full gallop. The two chariots behind us follow suit. The horses kick up rocks as they run. Each stone gives off a shrill little tone as it flies—which gives me an idea. My escape plan involved finding some sort of weapon, and the flying rocks are exactly what I need. I start humming again, louder this time, knowing Garrick won’t hear me over the horses’ pounding hooves and the drivers’ shouts for them to move faster. I concentrate all my energy as I hum to the rocks, mimicking the tone they put off. If I can only get them to listen . . .
Garrick curses as a rock goes flying past his head.
My aim was a little off.
The next rock I send flying at the driver behind us. This time my aim is true. It hits the guard hard against his knuckles. He drops the reins by reflex, and as he tries to grab hold of them again, I command another rock to pelt him in the head. It clangs hard against metal helmet. He claps his hands to his head and the Heir next to him gives a frantic shout as I send more rocks flying in their direction. One of the horses rears up, stopping their progress. The chariot behind them barely misses colliding into them as their driver veers out of the way.
“What the . . . ?” Garrick glances behind him, and then returns his focus onto our horses. If he hadn’t moved so suddenly the next rock would have hit him in the eye. Instead it only grazes his ear. “You’re doing this!” he shouts at me. He takes the reins in one hand and tries to grab me with the other. I twist out of his grasp and start singing instead of humming. “Stop!” he commands, but he has no power over me.
I send more rocks flying, pelting him and the other men. A large stone hits one of the horses in the flank—which I feel bad about—but it causes the distraction I need. The horse sets into a frantic run, pulling the reins from Garrick’s hand, and as the second horse resists the pull of the first, our chariot loses control. We skid into a spin near the riverbank, and I throw myself from the chariot.
I hit the ground hard on my side and roll, ignoring the flashes of pain in my arm and knee. I hear Garrick shout, and his chariot crashes into the one in front of it. I glance up to see that all five chariots have come to a halt. One of the guards runs to assist Garrick, while another heads in my direction, probably thinking I have merely fallen.
I scramble to my feet, knowing I have to get to the boat before the guard can get to me.
“Stop her!” Garrick shouts.
But I am already on my feet. I gather up the train of my dress and start running, adrenaline pushing me past the ache in my knee, toward the boat.
“My lady,” the guard calls. “My lady, let me help you.”
“Don’t let her get to the boat!” Garrick says. He must have figured out my plan.
The guard doesn’t pick up his pace, no doubt thinking there’s nowhere I can go. After all, how could one girl sail a boat on her own?
A smirk crosses my lips as I pound down the dock. I’m almost there.
I can take the boat. Sail away. Double back to the caves, or go anywhere I want. They’ll never be able to catch up to me on foot.
Freedom is less than three yards away.
And then I’m falling. My foot has caught on something and I’m falling forward. My hands and my already injured knee hit the wood planks of the dock. A loud moaning noise fills my ears. I peer down between the slats of the dock and see a featureless face staring back at me. I scream. I can’t help it. There’s a Shade under the dock, only a few inches from my face. I try to get up but a tight squeezing pain holds my ankle. To my horror, I realize the reason I fell is because the Shade grabbed my foot from between the slats of the dock. “Let go!” I shout at him and try to wrench my foot free, to no avail. The moaning grows louder, and I see that he isn’t alone. Two more Shades close in on him, as if coming to inspect his prize.
Were they lying in wait for us? Did they see the boat waiting, and figure dinner must be coming along soon? That seems pretty smart for supposedly mindless predators.
A shout and a crack of lightning from behind draws my attention. I glance back to see another pack of Shades descend on the chariots. Probably the same group we were trying to flee before. I can’t help wondering if it was their objective to drive us in this direction.
More cracks of lightning follow as the guards try to scare off the Shades. The one guard who had been following me is distracted by the fight. I turn my attention back to the Shades under the dock, a moment too late. A hand reaches up between the slats and before I can react, it grabs my wrist. With one hard yank, he pulls me flat against the dock. My chin hits the splintery wood and I bite my tongue. Blood fills my mouth. I can feel the Shade’s hot breath on my face as he moans in a way that sounds like a victory cheer. Through the opening between the slats, I watch as the two other Shades begin to climb up over the dock. I try to sing, try to hum, but my throbbing, bleeding tongue refuses to cooperate. I’ve been rendered voiceless.
I tense with fear, as petrified as one of Medusa’s victims, and the two Shades close in on me. I am sure that their featureless faces with gaping, hungry mouths are the last thing I will ever see. Their hands claw at me as they pounce.
I hear the sound before I see anything, like a baseball bat swinging through the air and cracking against a ball. With a moaning shriek, one of the Shades goes flying off the dock. The Shade under the dock releases my hand, but then grabs hold of my cloak, holding my head down so I can’t see what’s happening. I try to claw at the cloak’s clasp to free myself, but it’s no use. A moment later, another swing and a crack follows, and the second pouncing Shade crumples at my side. A third swing sounds from somewhere over my head and the entire dock quakes, reverberating under me, as if it has been struck by a great force. The Shade holding my hair from under the dock suddenly releases me. It hunches back, cowering, and then breaks away in an apelike run up the riverbank.
I gasp, shocked I’m still alive, and roll onto my back. I look up at my rescuer, expecting to see one of the royal guards—hell, even Garrick—when all I find crouched over me is another Shade. It’s at least a foot taller and twice the bulk of the one who had caught me. It holds a large club, or perhaps it’s an aged bone, in its gray hands.
“What the . . .”
But I don’t get to finish my question. The Shade swings his club at my head. Pain explodes against my temple, and then everything goes black.
chapter nine
haden
“You brought Terresa here?” I ask as Ethan gestures at the ceiling of Joe’s dining room. I bristle at this idea. Terresa is dangerous and unpredictable.
“Yes,” Ethan says. “When we found you in the middle of the road, you told us you’d left her tied up in the grove. I brought her here last night, as well as your father.”
“My father?” I take an instinctive step back. King Ren is one of the few people in all the five realms that I have ever been afraid of. I can only imagine his wrath against me now that he has been banished from his own kingdom, his crown stripped
from him and given to a boy. “My father is here? In this house? And no one is guarding him?” How could they be so foolish to leave him unwatched? I wouldn’t put it past him to burn down this entire house—entire state—to get to me. “Where is he?”
“He’s in Marta’s wing,” Joe says, referring to the part of the house that had once been reserved for his personal assistant. She’d skipped town after it was revealed that she had been the eyes and ears for Simon, one of my father’s lackeys, to make sure Joe didn’t go back on the deal he’d made to sell Daphne’s soul to the Underrealm.
I bolt for the door, preparing myself to face down my father.
“Relax, Haden,” Ethan calls after me. “It’s safe. They’ve been taken care of. Neither your father nor Terresa will be causing us trouble for the time being.”
“And Rowan?” I ask. “Where is my brother?”
“Rowan wasn’t in the grove where you said you’d left him,” Ethan says. “I told you all this last night. He must have awoken and hightailed it out of the grove before I got there.”
I nod, recalling now we’d had this conversation while I ate cookies Joe had offered me and blew bubbles in my milk with a straw. Who knew you could do that? “Rowan is gone,” I say more to myself than to anyone else. I wonder why, upon freeing himself, Rowan had left our father behind. He had always been the perfect son.
But Rowan’s motives and escape aren’t something I can allow myself to dwell on at the moment. Along with Dax’s disappearance, those were matters that would have to wait until after Daphne’s rescue.
“You said my father and Terresa are taken care of. What do you mean by that?” I ask.
“I’ll show you,” Ethan says. “Follow me upstairs.”
Brimstone stays in the dining room to polish off the rest of everyone’s breakfast while the rest of us follow Ethan.
A minute later, I stand with the others outside the window that separates Joe’s private recording studio from the recording booth, both located on the second level of his expansive home. Behind the glass, Terresa lies on her side, propped against a few pillows. Her hands are still tied flat against her chest with the strips of my torn toga. I’m surprised Ethan did not replace her bindings with something sturdier when he brought her from the grove, but the positioning of her hands means if she uses her lightning power to burn away the makeshift ties, she will blast herself in the chest. I’d had to do just that in my attempt to stop Daphne from sealing herself to the Underrealm. I find myself wondering if Terresa would be desperate enough to do the same when she awakes.
“How long has she been out?” I ask.
“Since that night in the grove,” Jonathan says. “I shot her with a golden arrow and she’s been out ever since.”
“Is that normal?” I ask. “It’s been days.”
Jonathan shakes his head.
“I plied her with a sleeping draught,” Ethan says, patting a leather satchel he wears slung over his shoulder. “I couldn’t risk her waking while my men and I chased off her troops, so I gave her a dose of a sleeping potion. I gave her a second dose before transporting her here. I did the same with your father. He didn’t strike me as someone who would make an easy captive otherwise.”
“Good thinking,” I say. A sleeping potion would be a far better restraint than any chain or rope.
“Frankly, dealing with your father as a prisoner is going to be far more ideal than handling Terresa after she’s conscious,” Ethan says. “I don’t fancy being the man to wake her.”
Lexie smirks. “She's that brutal, huh?”
“Quite the opposite. That golden arrow my father shot her with elicits passion. Whoever she sees first upon waking, she will fall in mad, passionate infatuation with. I must admit, I was hoping to keep her asleep until the spell wears off.”
“How long will that take?” I ask Jonathan.
“It depends on how greatly she wants to fight it off.” He clucks his tongue. “I am afraid we don’t have time to wait any longer. Perhaps we can use her compromised mental state to our advantage.” He shakes his head and pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I must be out of practice being Cupid, because that sounds so much creepier in the twenty-first century than it did in ancient Greece.”
“Nevertheless, you do have a point. So . . . who is going to wake her?” I say, shuddering at the idea.
“I’d volunteer,” Joe says, “since I am used to having adoring fans and all, but she looks like she’s the same age as my daughter, and she’s staying in my home, and that just seems so wrong.”
“She only looks like a teenager, but I respect your reservations,” Jonathan says. “I also feel far too old for this job.”
“I guess it should be me,” Ethan offers. “I am her commanding officer and all. She’s my responsibility . . .”
I can see the dread on his face as he hesitates turning the doorknob. I wonder if it’s because Terresa is the half-sister of his fiancée. Even if he hasn’t seen his betrothed in years, I imagine this whole situation would make for awkward family reunions in the future. Assuming Abbie can even be found. She’s been missing for six months and had been in hiding for five years before that. And then there was the issue of her being in love with Dax.
“Oh, just let me do it,” Lexie says exasperatedly and pushes her way past Ethan. “It’s not like she’ll have any chance of seducing me or something. I only play for one team.”
“What do teams have to do with anything?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll explain it to you later,” she says with a smirk. “Along with the birds and the bees, if you need that talk too.”
“Birds and bees? What are you talking about?” Am I starting to lose lucidity again? Because Lexie isn’t making any sense.
Lexie laughs and doesn’t answer my questions. Instead, she pulls open the door and marches into the studio, clapping her hands and shouting, “Rise and shine, sweetie!” When that doesn’t work, she grabs one of Joe’s electric guitars, plugs it into an amp, and strums against the strings with reckless abandon.
Terresa startles awake, and all four of us men take an instinctive step back from the window as she rolls away from the pillows to look up at Lexie.
Terresa’s eyes narrow. “Who are you? Where am I?” she demands. “Why are you holding me here, you filthy mortal?”
I look at Ethan. “Seems as though the spell has worn off.”
A panicked look crosses his eyes as the same thought crosses his mind.
“Get back!” he shouts at Lexie as he storms into the room. Terresa has rocked up onto her knees. Ethan grabs Terresa just as she is about to launch herself, headfirst, at Lexie.
Lexie hops backward and Terresa begins to kick and writhe in Ethan’s grasp. “What are you doing to me?!” she screams. “Where am I?”
Energy radiates off Terresa, crackling in the air as I run into the room to assist Ethan. Her hands are still bound against her chest. Maybe she is desperate enough to blast herself. Or merely crazy?
Terresa screams at the top of her lungs, “Why are you keeping me from him?” She rams her foot into Ethan’s shin. He loses his grip on her. She whirls in the direction of the door. I step in front of her, holding out my arms to block her escape.
Terresa’s eyes widen. Undeterred, she flings herself at the obstacle—me—standing in her path. I brace myself for the blow, preparing myself to retaliate, when she suddenly pulls up short. She stops only inches from colliding into my chest. And then she leans her whole body into mine and nuzzles her cheek against my neck. “Oh, Haden, you found me. I knew you would,” she whispers, and presses her lips to my throat. For half a second I think she is about to sink her teeth into my jugular, but instead she kisses my neck.
I am too stunned to stop her until she’s trailed her lips all the way down to my collarbone. Regaining my senses, I grab her by her bound shoulders and hold her back at an arm’s length.
“What’s the matter, Hadie,” she says, “aren’t yo
u happy to see me?”
“Uhhhhh,” is the only sound that comes out of my mouth.
“Hadie?” Lexie asks. “So what exactly happened between you two in the grove?” I can hear the smirk in her voice even if I can’t see her; all my concentration being focused on keeping Terresa from accosting me again.
I think back on the day before, wishing my memories of the last twenty-four hours weren’t so scattered and foggy. “I searched her for her cell phone before I tied her up. She must have woken, if only for second, and looked at me.”
“You remember,” Terresa says, looking at me as if it were the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.
Kopros. Terresa is in love with me.
“Well, on the bright side, getting Terresa to tell us the location of the Black Hole might not be so difficult after all,” Lexie says.
“Perhaps,” I say tentatively.
We’re all outside the window again, watching through the glass as Terresa eats a ham sandwich and a pile of noxious-smelling chips that Joe had referred to as Doritos. I made a deal with her that if she promised not to try to escape or kill any of us, I would untie her and let her have some lunch. I’m not sure how much her cooperation has been determined by her delusions of being in love with me, or the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a few days.
Terresa looks up at me mid-chew, and gives a little wave. Her fingers are speckled with orange powder.
It only seemed fair to feed her before we started the interrogation. Perhaps her affinity for me is making me soft. In the Underrealm, I might have starved an adversary for weeks in order to get the information I needed. Then again, that had been the old me. The one that was less human.
I give Terresa a placating wave back. She seems to stay relatively calm and collected as long as I pretend to be receptive to her attention. “Even if we can get the location out of her, how exactly do you propose we storm the Skyrealm’s most impenetrable prison?” I ask the group.
The others stay silent for a moment, no doubt ticking off impossible ideas in their heads.
