by Kim Faulks
They waited down there, in the dirt, the two women I failed.
Lorn’s mother, her grandmother…
My heart clenched tight, and for a second in the dark, there was another headstone beside them. I didn’t need to see the carvings to know whose name it bore.
But it was just an illusion.
It was just a lie.
I turned away then, with my heart clawing its way into my throat. I knew it was a lie more than I knew anything right now…because by the time the Queen was done with Lorn—there’d be no body left.
“Well, we doing this?” Rival swiped his hands against his jeans.
“Will they let us in like this?” The cop glanced at our crumpled and sweat-stained clothes. “Maybe we should change?”
I’d been days in the same jeans…my skin itched…nerves jumped. “I could do with a shower?”
“You think she has time?” Rival snarled, his eyes still glowing with the fires of Hell. “I mean, look, let’s just book a mani-pedi while we’re fucking at it. Lorn’s okay…it’s just the Unseelie fucking Queen she’s dealing with. I’m on my way to whatever this goddamn place is, and I don’t give two flying fucks if they let me in as I am or not. They can try to fucking stop me…”
The Hellhound sucked in hard breaths, like a man out of control.
“He’s right…he’s fucking right. What the Hell was I thinking?” Titus shook his head and took a step from the stone portal of the cemetery.
The Hellhound got us here, now it was our turn to get to the club. The cop dug into his pocket and drew out his cell. The screen came alive with soft backlight as he punched the buttons.
“What are you doing?” Rival snarled.
Titus barely raised his eyes as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Getting us a ride.”
“Hey, it’s Titus. I need a favor…one of those no-questions-asked ones…yeah, yeah, I get it. I need a lift for me and a few guys to Luminous…yeah, the nightclub. No, I’m not going out…”
Luminous. The name filled my mind. It was the Seelie hunting ground. The place where those of the Light preyed on the weak. I lowered my head, and inhaled the stench of death on my clothes. “I can’t go in there, not like this. I’ll meet you there.” I took a step backwards, drawing their pissed-off gazes. Titus stopped talking, dropping the phone from his ear as I spoke. “You want their help, right? Then an Unseelie who reeks of death isn’t going to make them very forthcoming. They’ll smell me coming a mile away and be gone before you step foot near the place. Go…go and I’ll find you.”
The cop lifted the cell once more. His mumbled words barely reached my ears as I turned and left.
It was no use. No use them asking…no use me thinking there was a way out of this. It’s pathetic you thought there was another way.
“Redemption,” Gabriel called behind me.
My shoulders sank, steps stilled. I turned to the Archangel as he closed in. His wings shifted against his spine, neon white feathers ruffling in the night.
“Are you okay?” His blue eyes seemed to pierce my soul…what little I had left.
I glanced at the others over his shoulder in the distance and answered. “Yeah, fine.”
“I feel something else,” his voice quietened, as though he didn’t want the others to hear. “It’s not exhaustion, or fear. It’s not even Hell…something darker. I’m worried about you.”
I flinched at the words. “You know us Unseelie, we thrive on the darkness, Gabriel. No need to worry…it’s going to be alright.” I can fix this…I can still fix this…
I left him there, staring after me with concern in his eyes. Somehow the Messenger knew what thoughts dwelled in my head. But did he know the truth?
Did he know what waited for me in the Unseelie realm?
I prayed he didn’t…I prayed none of them did.
I stepped through the wrought iron archway of the cemetery gates and made for the city street. Home. That’s where I needed to be…home, amongst the flashy cars and the designer clothes.
The cold tile of the shower floor waited for me. I could almost feel it now. The sting of the shower spray on my back, beating strength into me. Feel that pull, drawing me back to the place I once called home. Would it recognize me?
Not as an intruder, as part of its kin…would the magic that once flowed through my veins flow through them again?
Their voices echoed…the cop’s, the Hellhound’s.
Brother they called me.
But they weren’t my kin.
They were my enemy.
They just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter Seven
Lorn
I backed away from the paintings and hit something in the dark. The squeal of furniture on the marble floor pierced the room. I winced with the sound, and stumbled away. Light flickered, bouncing off glass.
The case was empty, but the velvet molding was still there, one straight tower and what looked almost like the cup of a hand. Something belonged in here, something important.
There was a placard at the base. I lifted the torch and yellow light flickered, revealing the painted image of the dagger that’d once been encased behind the glass.
It was almost the same as the guard’s weapons, the same curved blade, but that’s where the similarities ended. The hilt on this special dagger shimmered with what looked like pearl. Soft light gray was swirled with pinks, greens, and blues. Underneath the image were three words…the King’s Command.
The King’s dagger. I lifted my head to the clawed-out face of the man in the paintings. There was no crown on his head, no regal-looking staff in his hand. He didn’t look like a King. Not really…he looked like a consort.
I left the creepy scratched-out paintings and the empty case behind and made for the hallway. The darkness was so thick here, like I’d somehow plunged deep into the darkest depths of the sea. The thought made me shudder. Creatures welled in those depths. The kind that wasn’t meant to surface. The kind that wasn’t meant to be seen.
Is that what this was? Some kind of warning? I stepped into the bitter cold and raised the torchlight high. The yellow hue barely reached three feet in front of me. I sucked in the cold air and felt it move through my lungs.
A feeling crept through my bones. There was something down here, something that hovered on the edge of the torchlight, something just out of reach.
A doorway opened up to the right. I stepped closer, raising the flames to the doorway. It was empty and cold. Tiles lined the floor and the walls, although I could barely see inside. Another bathroom.
Stained.
The whisper came from my left. I swung the torch, and stared into the dark. “Who’s there?”
Nothing…nothing but the emptiness…nothing but the cold.
I glanced back over my shoulder as my pulse jacked higher.
Killer…
My breath caught with the word.
Whore…
I searched the emptiness as my gut screamed, get the fuck out of here! But I wouldn’t run…not anymore. I was done with running, done with not facing my demons. “You don’t frighten me,” I growled and lifted the torch higher. “Step out and face me.”
The voice wasn’t the hag from the forest…it was softer, crueler, like slick eels along my skin. No…not slick, cold, steel cold. I could almost feel the razored edge scraping along my skin, almost feel the need to turn the knife.
Blood…make it run…make it all run.
Goosebumps raced, standing the hairs on my arms. There was no warmth here, no life at all. I took another step and that terrifying feeling grew.
It was coming. Whatever was down here was coming, and it wanted me. I could hear the footsteps, mingling with the thudding of my heart.
Run! That voice screamed inside my head, and the yellow flames wavered, dancing with a gust of wind. But there was no wind. There wasn’t even a breeze yet, as my body trembled and my senses screamed, the light from the torch was extinguished, plunging me into the
gloom.
A cry wrenched from my lips. I stumbled backwards, hitting the wall as the bitter singed scent filled my nostrils. My fingers fumbled, digging into the pocket of my jeans. I dragged the flint free and dropped to my knees. I yanked the torch closer, striking the stone in the dark.
The spark flared, and the torch caught alight. I gripped the wooden handle and raised the glow, waiting for whatever waited for me to come once more.
My pulse was deafening, filling my ears with thunderous sound.
But there was nothing.
Nothing but emptiness…
Nothing but Unseelie.
A shoe scraped behind me…I spun with the sound. She came out of the nothingness, rising like a ghost. The Unseelie Queen stepped closer, her red dress flowing around her like she drifted in a sea of blood. “There you are,” she murmured, her gaze drifting to the gloom behind me. “Careful down here, Lorn. I promised your father no harm would come to you. But there are creatures down here that not even I can command, and they haven’t tasted flesh like yours in hundreds of years. Come,” she commanded, and then turned. “You must be hungry.”
She left me there, quiet steps leaving no trace of her behind. Flayed nerves urged me to scamper after her. I took a step, and then another, before I slowed at the entrance to the painting room. “Wait…wait a second.”
She slowed, came to a stop, and then turned. There was a flash of annoyance in her eyes, and that same cold, savage hunger skimmed my mind. I glanced toward the doorway as the words slipped free. “The paintings in there…who is he?”
She never turned her head, never looked toward the room at all. A nagging feeling inside was warning me. This was important.
“He’s not important anymore,” she murmured. “I’m sure you can recognize a broken heart when you see one.”
I sucked in a breath and searched her gaze. She gave me nothing. No whisper of truth, no emotion at all. I glanced toward the doorway, remembering the rage. This wasn’t just any broken heart. This heart was still intact, beating with a purpose.
“Come,” she turned away. “I don’t want your food to get cold.”
I followed her with hurried steps this time, all the way back to the rooms and then left to the dining room. A servant stood at the doorway, and bowed his head in respect as the Queen swept past. He was the first one I’d seen since coming to the Unseelie world who wasn’t a guard.
But Unseelie ran deep in his veins, quick dark eyes and a thick thatch of midnight hair that curled at his ears.
I stared at him and followed her. He was young, no more than nineteen, dressed in black leather pants and a black flowing shirt. Men were at her beck and call everywhere the Queen went.
One lonely setting decorated the dining room table. The servant scurried to drag her chair out a second before she sat and then waved her hand to the setting. “Sit…sit. I’ve had the cook prepare something special.”
I glanced at the servant, and then neared the placement. The setting was perfect. Silver gleamed and sparkled under the candlelight in the middle of the table.
There was a shuffle in the kitchen, and then the ding of a tiny bell. The Unseelie servant rushed to the kitchen and then returned seconds later carrying a bowl of steaming soup.
The heady scent of meat and herbs hit me like a fist. My belly tightened, squeezing around the undigested bread and meat.
“I figured you’d be famished,” the Queen murmured, watching me like a hawk watches a mouse.
My hand trembled. I glanced to the bare place in front of her. “You’re not hungry?”
“I ate before.”
The words resounded, like a promise…or a warning…I glanced at the tiny bits of herb floating in the thick beef broth as a thought filled my mind…she’s too nice, this is too simple. One bowl of food…what’s to say it’s not poisoned?
I swallowed hard and stared at the meal.
“Don’t want to let it get cold,” she urged.
I slowly lifted my hand and grasped the spoon. What choice did I have? Refuse and piss her off…or eat it and risk…what? Not death, not while Dad has her only son in a cell…so, what? delirium?
“If I wanted to poison you, Lorn, I would have the minute you touched ground.”
I jerked my head up, and met her gaze. There was no denying my thoughts, not when they were so obvious. They must be, right? How else would she know?
She folded her hands neatly in front of her. “You told me the murder of my hag was self-defense. I’m ready to hear your side of the story.”
My pulse raced. I flinched as she motioned to the soup. “Eat, and explain your actions.”
A tremor tore through me as my mind raced. This was my opportunity. The one way I could get back home. I grabbed the spoon and skimmed the surface of the broth. One sip and my stomach was howling. My taste buds danced with delicate flavors, like thyme and rosemary. One more spoon and it was the warm, rich beef that flooded my mouth and slid down my throat. I swallowed, and talked. “Did you know about the Nine and the sick desire your s—Prince Absolon, had for my mother?”
“I knew of issues with the mortal realm, nothing more than whispers and lies. Absolon had no need of a mortal woman, there are thousands of perfectly fine Unseelie women here for his every whim.”
His every whim? I shuddered with the words and took another spoonful of the strew. “That might be, but it didn’t stop him from taking what he wanted. He met my mother through Jay, a piece of fucking shit she was dating at the time.”
There was the flare of a brow and a twitch at the corner of her eye. Still, I kept on going. She wanted the truth, I’d give her the truth. “He fucking beat her. Even when she was pregnant, he beat her, kicked her in the stomach, left her bleeding on the goddamn floor. She escaped him and ran for her life, and met—”
“Lucifer,” she held my gaze. “She met Lucifer. I’m correct, aren’t I?”
I took another spoonful. “Yes, although she had no idea who or what he was at the time. He helped her, took her to the hospital…she ended up losing the baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words slipped from her lips without any sense of feeling at all. “But Jay told her about an Unseelie. Your son, to be exact. Absolon brought Jay under his wing, he made him a devoted…and a Bodoach.”
Her eyes widened. There was a tiny shake of her head. “No, that can’t be, not a human to an Unseelie.”
“He did…and he has. Ask the hag in the forest…she’ll tell you if I’m lying.”
“No,” she shook her head and clenched her fingers. “You do not understand. Our kind isn’t meant to associate with your kind. It is beneath us, so to have the Prince…”
I flinched at her words…beneath us? My mind raced, filling my head with scattered moments with Redemption. No matter if her words had stung, I knew deep down they were true, there were moments at the beginning of our relationship where I’d felt…inferior. It was small things, the way he spoke, the way he carried himself. But I’d put it down to stress and newness of us as a couple. My words were husky and raw when I continued. “Regardless, that’s what happened. Absolon became infatuated with my mother after that…especially when he saw that Lucifer was in the picture. And when Mom became pregnant with me, that’s when Absolon came after her.”
“And how many men did your mother lie with while this was going on? Are you sure this isn’t just some jilted lover infatuation?”
Heat rushed, filling my face with the burn. Don’t lose your shit. Don’t screw the one fucking chance of getting out of here alive. “As far as I’m aware, my mother had no interest in your son. In fact, I think she despised him.”
She flinched at the remark. Red lips smashed together. That fucking shut her up. “Absolon, and the group of mortals he called the Nine, hunted my mother for months, until she gave birth to me…and then he had her killed.”
“And what does any of this have to do with murdering my hag?”
“It has everything to
do with her, especially when Absolon started following me. He turned up at my work place, had the hag invade my mind. I might be one of the Circle’s Hunters, but I’m still human…part of me, anyway. They abducted me…dragged me to your cells…they tortured me…and the man I love.”
Her lips curled at those words. There was a flash of rage, before it was smothered by a stony gaze. “The man you love?”
Knuckles popped under the strain as I gripped the edge of the table. Gabriel’s screams echoed inside my head. The terror came back now, sweeping me away with the stench of his blood…and the sound…that sickening sawing sound. “They cut off his wings…they clawed his eyes,” rage slipped my leash as I turned my head and seized her gaze. “Your son…Your goddamn son did that to my Archangel.”
Silence. Unmerciful, stony silence. Not even a twitch of her lips. Not even a draw of breath…until finally…finally she spoke. “Your Archangel?”
“Yes, Gabriel is mine,” I tried to keep my voice low. Tried to keep from lunging across the table and recreating all the fucking things that’d been done to us in that filthy fucking place.
“Why?” She lifted a hand to the table. “Why an Archangel?”
Why? “Why not? Gabriel has been my friend for as long as I can remember. He was there for me when no one else was, and until Titus—”
“Titus?”
“Titus Banks, who is also mine,” I snarled. What the fuck was this, pick apart Lorn’s love life? Everyone was so goddamn intrigued. “And a cop…a human cop.”
“Is there anyone else who is yours you’d care to reveal?” She stared at her hands, but her words…her words chilled me to the bone.
I tried to unclench my jaw. We’d gone off track here…way off track. “How is my love life important?”
“Just so I can fully grasp the circumstances…” she lifted her gaze to mine and forced a smile. “Woman to woman.”
The ground underneath my feet seemed so fucking fragile right now. Careful. That old warning resounded. I’d ignored the whisper in my gut before at my own damn peril. “And Rival…a Hellhound.”
