by T. A. White
He stopped her with a touch on her arm. “You can use the Lux. As one of its line, it’ll respond to your desires. Be careful, if you’re conflicted even a little, it will consume you and everything around you.”
She nodded, putting her hand over his. “I’ll be right back.”
He let her go. She stood and darted away from his cover, moving through the ravine they’d tumbled into.
She hadn’t made it far before a shape rushed at her. It was on her before she could react, pinning her to the side of a large stone formation.
A strange, dispassionate face peered down at her. Shea noted a resemblance between this creature and Covath. The two could be the same species if not for the lack of wings on his back.
He had the same midnight skin. Unlike Covath’s which acted like a black hole, sucking in all light so none escaped, this mythological’s skin was almost opalescent. He seemed to shine with an inner light, much like the night sky.
Shea noticed all this despite the forearm banded across her throat and his face inches from hers.
He picked her up and slammed her back into the rock behind her.
“Well, well, a little mouse has poked up her head,” the mythological said, his voice cool. “I was wondering why I felt eyes on us these past few days.”
Shea gurgled, his arm cutting off any possibility of speech. She prayed her father stayed where she’d put him, that he didn’t try to be the hero.
On the bright side, it looked like she was going to get the chance to test her theory.
“What’s this? The little mouse would like to speak?” He sounded dispassionate, uninterested in the answer, not lifting the pressure on her throat even a little. “I’m sorry, little mouse, I don’t have conversations with my food.”
Shea’s mouth shaped a word. It took several stuttering tries before she was able to rasp two syllables. “Co-vath.”
The creature went very still, his face an indistinct blur above her. Her vision began to darken as unconsciousness encroached.
The pressure against her throat abruptly ceased. She fell to her knees, coughing and choking, one hand going to her throat as she sucked in that most life-giving and oft taken for granted of substances—air.
“Well, well, it seems this mouse has learned a pretty trick,” the creature said. “Well, then, go on. Impress me, little mouse.”
Shea continued to gasp as she drew in air, her bruised throat protesting. Her preoccupation with breathing left her little time to marshal her thoughts.
The creature lost its patience, reaching for her. “Time’s up, little mouse.”
Shea blanched and shied away, scuttling back on her hands and butt in an awkward crab walk. “Covath sent me.”
The mythological froze, the expression on his face full of vulnerability, his clawed hand still outstretched.
Shea eyed that hand with dislike and no small trace of fear. Those claws could easily cut through her flesh.
The mythological gave her a suspicious look and straightened, folding his arms over his chest in a distinctly masculine manner. The flash of vulnerability was gone, leaving only mockery behind.
“I think you’re lying,” he challenged. “Covath barely notices the mice that infest these lands. I doubt he would send such a one as you to do the work of a lion.”
Shea’s laugh was dry and rusty. “You might think so, but desperate times and all that.”
“What do you know of that, human?” the mythological asked, his voice sharp and cutting.
“I know you hate humans, that you wouldn’t follow one around like some stray pet he adopted unless there was a very good reason,” Shea retorted. “I’m pretty sure you have no choice but to listen because of what he wears around his neck.”
She rubbed her own neck, conscious of how sore it still was. There would definitely be a bruise, but at least he hadn’t crushed her trachea. If he had, she’d be choking to death right about now.
Shea took her time climbing to her feet, brushing her hands off as she stood and looked over at him. She carefully kept her gaze from the boulders that hid her father.
The mythological hadn’t reacted to her statement yet, giving her no clue if she was getting to him or not.
“Covath sent me, because I’m willing to bet he couldn’t come himself,” Shea said, making a guess, one that had been brewing since she’d witnessed the scene earlier that day. “I’m guessing whatever keeps you and the others under control affects him too.”
The creature’s face remained expressionless.
That was fine by Shea. She knew she was right. The confirmation would have just been nice.
“You could help me,” she offered.
That garnered a reaction as he scoffed. “And how would you suggest I do that?”
That was a good question, one she’d given a lot of thought to. She suspected he couldn’t act against Griffin directly, whether because of fear of pain or whether whatever Griffin wore around his neck literally controlled him. That didn’t matter. If he could keep the beasts off her, even for a moment, she could turn this to their advantage. Trenton and the rest could act, giving her the chance to deal with Griffin.
“Keep the beasts from killing me. At least long enough for me to get the item he’s using to control you,” she said, her voice serious. She wasn’t quite willing to reveal her companions yet, not knowing what side he planned to come down on.
If the worst happened and he killed her, they would at least still have a chance.
“And trade one master for another? I don’t think so.” His voice was hard and implacable.
He reached for her again and Shea jerked back.
“I don’t want to be your master,” she snapped. “I just want what Griffin stole from us. Your help is the only way to get it.”
“Humans always lie,” he said flatly.
“And mythologicals are a slave to their baser instincts, only good at killing,” Shea returned. She’d believed that once. Now she was beginning to see that things might be a bit different than she’d assumed.
He let out a vicious sounding rumble. Her heart jumped, but she didn’t allow herself to show fear, meeting his gaze with a stubborn one of her own.
“We both hold a belief about the other that may or may not be based on fact. Only time will truly tell, but I’ll say this, Covath was the one who sent me—he must have had a reason considering how much you all dislike humans,” Shea said.
He waited in silence, considering her statement. She held her breath, hoping something she’d said had gotten through. She didn’t have a lot of other options. If he didn’t go for it, she was probably dead.
“What is it that you would ask of me, little mouse?” he asked, his voice silken.
Shea took the opportunity. “I just need a window. Distract the other beasts and I’ll free you from this.”
He scoffed. “You ask the impossible.”
“It’s not that much,” Shea started.
He cut her off with a sharp gesture. “You have no idea what he’ll do to us.” He shook his head. “No, little mouse, I’m afraid you took a few too many chances and now you’re in over your head. Your plan won’t work.”
Shea’s lips parted as she prepared to argue.
“What won’t work?” a sly voice said from nowhere.
Both of them went stock still. A hot feeling crawled up the back of her neck as Griffin moved into sight. The jagged lines of the rocks had hidden him until now.
Shea’s voice caught in her throat as she stared at him, envisioning all her plans come to naught.
Griffin didn’t seem to notice her, his attention focused on the mythological.
The mythological turned towards him. “What are you doing here?”
“You slipped away, and I was curious as to what caught your attention,” Griffin said. “Why did you leave? You know I didn’t give permission.”
The mythological turned stiff. “I spotted
something and went to investigate.”
Griffin cocked his head, his attention finally turning toward Shea. “Lover, you came!”
The mythological’s head turned toward her. Though his expression was carefully guarded, Shea sensed the warning he aimed at her.
She didn’t have much time to think as Griffin opened his arms, wrapping her stiff body in an unwelcome hug, his cheek ice-cold against hers.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t,” he crooned. “I should have known you’d surprise me. You were always good at that.”
She didn’t know how to respond to his words. It was a complete change from their last encounter.
The mythological made a slight movement behind him, as if warning her to play along.
“Yes, I had to come,” Shea said in a stilted voice.
The mythological sniffed the air, his attention turning toward the boulders where she’d hidden her father. His gaze met hers as realization crossed his face.
Griffin took her words as confirmation of her intentions, twisting to face the distracted mythological. “Now, back to my first question.”
Shea pleaded with her eyes, hoping the mythological would keep her secret. If Griffin found out about her father now, he would kill him, or he’d order the mythological to do it. In Patrick’s weakened state, there would be little he could do to defend himself.
Griffin’s hand remained on her wrist, an unexplainable cold sensation radiating out from where he gripped her. Numbness quickly followed as his touch deadened feeling in that arm.
Shea shifted, trying to draw back. His grip didn’t budge, holding her captive as that strange feeling crawled over her skin.
She started to shiver both in fear and as a result of Griffin’s touch as he asked again, “What won’t work?”
The mythological looked down at him, his face inscrutable. He turned his attention to Shea. “I simply told the little mouse that running would be futile.”
Shea released the breath she was holding.
His lie was a good one, and he had her everlasting gratitude for it. He could have just as easily gone the other way, revealed Patrick’s presence and Shea’s subterfuge. That he hadn’t, meant her mission might not be entirely ruined, just evolving.
Griffin cocked his head again, the gesture almost reptilian. “Of course, she isn’t going to run. She’s here to join us, after all.”
He waited expectantly. Shea stared between the two, an uncertain expression on her face.
After an eternity, she nodded. “Yes, yes, I am.”
Her awkward delivery wouldn’t have fooled anybody in their right mind, but Griffin seemed pleased by her response. She wasn’t entirely sure he was sane anymore. Whatever was happening to him appeared to have affected his mind. It was the only thing she could think to explain this strange conversation.
“Come now, we still have many miles to travel before we stop,” Griffin said with a beatific smile.
Griffin turned back the way he’d come, Shea following reluctantly behind, with the mythological an intimidating presence at her back. For now, they seemed to be on the same side but that could change at a moment’s notice.
She sent up a prayer for the rest of her group. Worry for her father ate at her even as she knew Reece wouldn’t let the others leave him behind. Buck and Trenton might give him trouble—both wanting to pursue Shea—but he’d keep his head. She was sure of it. She only hoped they were able to survive this.
Griffin’s head turned slightly. “The father will be most pleased at this turn of events.”
“Father?” Shea asked, her interest spiking despite the dire situation.
“Yes, he was slightly disappointed I was the only one to answer his call. He expected you.” Griffin’s voice fell slightly. “You were always the favorite in everything you did.”
Shea didn’t know how to respond to that or the bitterness she could hear brewing in his voice, so she didn’t.
“You inherited his vision in the end,” the mythological said, his voice still emotionless.
Griffin’s back straightened. “Yes, I did, and that’s all that matters. He’ll see I was the better choice. I love you, Shea, but we both know you aren’t brutal enough to do what needs to be done. Though I was beginning to wonder, when you hooked up with one of those barbarians.”
If by brutal enough, he meant she didn’t have the will to set beasts intent on consuming human flesh on people who couldn’t defend themselves, he was right.
Shea held her tongue, content to let him chatter away. That was one thing she’d forgotten about him. He loved the sound of his own voice. It occurred to her now, well after the fact, that he’d never really required her input as he droned on about whatever latest thing fascinated him. She’d always attributed that to an overabundance of enthusiasm, something she had always lacked. Or that her contributions to the conversation always seemed lackluster. Now, she saw it was less a flaw in herself and more a reflection on his own inherent obsession with himself.
“You know, your Trateri warlord really gave us trouble. For a while, we thought our plans had died before they could be brought to fruition. Of course, I was the one who pointed out how we could turn all his work to our favor, exploit weaknesses he didn’t even know he had. You played a big part in that,” Griffin threw over his shoulder.
The words were unexpected, and Shea jolted forward. “What do you mean?”
“I struggled to find leverage with any of his trusted inner circle, then you came along. Suddenly, it was like I had the key to everything. It was easy after that. A few words here, a whisper there, and suddenly they saw you as the greatest threat to their people.” His voice turned reminiscing.
Shea’s steps slowed as she processed what he had said. Covath had been right, Griffin had engineered everything. He was the reason for the betrayal by people Shea and Fallon trusted.
He was the reason she’d woken to find her warlord still and pale, with blood running out of him.
“Don’t forget your place, little mouse,” the mythological murmured as heady anger coursed through Shea’s veins. “Now is not the time.”
Shea fought to regain control. It wasn’t easy, not when she thirsted for revenge. She’d never considered herself a particularly violent person until now. Knowing the hand Griffin had played in the assassination attempt on Fallon made it difficult to think clearly.
The red back of a large beast came into view, its head swinging towards her as it stretched onto its hind legs. It waved its paws and lifted its snout to the air before dropping back onto all fours. Shea was abruptly reminded that Griffin hadn’t traveled here alone. The pets he’d made out of beasts watched her from either side of the canyon—their eyes reflecting their hunger.
The mythological squeezed her shoulder in warning again. She nodded, showing she understood.
Had he not intervened when he did, she might have done something unwise—something that would definitely have resulted in her death.
She took a deep breath. He was right. Revenge could come later, once victory was more likely.
The mythological led her over to a place far from either of the beasts. He gestured for her to sit.
“Ajari, come here,” Griffin said, his voice a whip of sound.
Shea saw the mythological’s struggle. It wasn’t easy following the orders of someone weaker than you, someone you didn’t respect. That was obvious.
The mythological’s feet dragged as he approached Griffin.
“You were going to kill her, weren’t you?” Griffin taunted. “Had I not appeared when I did, she would be dead.”
Ajari didn’t answer, his silence stony.
“Well?” Griffin’s voice rose. “I gave strict orders she wasn’t to be harmed. What response do you have for that?”
“Those were your orders,” Ajari replied, boredom suffusing his tone.
“Ones you were willing to disobey.” Griffin’s voice was gloat
ing as he grabbed the necklace around his neck.
Shea sucked in a breath, but she was too late. The mythological fell to the ground, a scream on his lips.
“He didn’t,” Shea shouted, slowly advancing closer.
One of the beasts growled at her, and she flinched back, the instincts of a lifetime taking hold.
Griffin paused and the mythological stopped screaming, a whimper escaping him.
“He didn’t,” Shea said, mustering her courage from somewhere and ignoring the beast. “He wasn’t. He was trying to find a way to bring me to you.”
There was a long silence. “Why would he need to do that?” Griffin asked, blandly.
Shea stomach sank. She’d just damned herself by trying to defend a creature that would probably bask in her death before this was over.
“Because,” Shea said, her mind racing to come up with some plausible lie. “I was scared.”
Griffin took a step closer to her.
That was good. It meant he was listening.
“It had been so long, and I thought you were dead all this time,” Shea continued.
Griffin stared at her. It was not as easy to read him as it had once been, the changes in his skin making his facial expression unfamiliar and strange.
He stepped closer, one hand reaching up to her cheek. Shea fought a flinch as his cold fingers touched her skin. He tried to bring her closer, to draw her in for a kiss, but she resisted, the response instinctual.
An ugly smile crossed his face. “So, you have some loyalty to your fallen warlord after all.”
Shea didn’t respond.
His hand slid away. “No matter. We’ll have plenty of time now that you’re here.”
With those words, he moved away. Shea hadn’t come out entirely the victor in that exchange, but at least Griffin had stopped torturing the mythological.
*
Shea gazed up at the view in front of her, awestruck in spite of herself. The second demarcation. She’d never thought to see it.
It was the golden hour, the sun setting behind the mountains but not before bathing the land in the last dregs of its golden light. The second demarcation wasn’t like the first, a forgotten ruins, pitiful in its shambles. This was a statement, one forever stamped into the land around it.
