Roman’s expression softened, just enough. Just enough for Keeran to recognize the concern in his dark-eyed gaze. “I know a man obsessed when I see one.”
Keeran’s brows arched high. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d expected to be accused of being the traitor among the thirteen kings. Hell, he was mysterious enough. Certainly a tad anti-social. He lived in the Shadow Realm, for crying out loud. He would have understood the others jumping to such a conclusion.
Roman went on. “There’s a… vibration in here,” he said, gesturing with his hands as if it would help him explain as he began to pace slowly toward the fire place. “It would be impossible to describe other than to say it’s quietly brutal and unforgiving. I recognize it because I’ve felt it before.” He stopped by the hearth and glanced back at Keeran as he slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “From the inside.”
As usual, the Vampire King was impeccably dressed, this time in a three piece suit tailored in light gray. “I feel it every single night as it builds and builds until I can finally sink my teeth into my wife’s throat… and drink her nearly dry.” He waited a beat, perhaps for emphasis, then continued. “She makes me crazy, Pitch. Love will do that to men like us. The queen is the king’s obsession.” He turned to face Keeran fully, and leveled a hard black gaze on him. “So I know what it looks like when another man is riding the same one-way train.”
Keeran stared back unwaveringly. Time ticked loudly somewhere. The blue flame fireplace crackled.
And in his mind’s eye, he saw Violet Kellen in a sea of dark, her eyes shimmering like troubled waters. Obsession was perhaps a good word for it. He’d figured out who she was within short hours of meeting her. He’d even sent Bones into her world with a gift.
“Who is she?” Roman finally asked, breaking the silence. When Keeran didn’t respond, Roman smiled. “You’ve found your queen.”
And there it was. Someone other than him finally giving the realization voice. There was no denying it now. He’d known it the moment he’d seen and felt her down there in the Seattle Underground. The moment he’d caught her unbelievable scent. She was rare and perfect, glowing in a sea of deeper darkness, like an acorn of hope in a forest of gloom.
He didn’t need to confirm it. He didn’t need to say anything at all. His continued silence was enough to turn Roman’s smile into a shit-eating grin.
“You didn’t come here to talk about my love life, D’Angelo,” Keeran finally said calmly. He uncrossed his arms and strode across the large study to a liquor cabinet against the wall. There, he pulled a decanter of crystal from the bottom shelf and poured its dark contents into a short glass. The liquor was black in color, resembling water that had been dyed.
“Well, firstly, allow me to congratulate you. And secondly no, I didn’t,” Roman admitted. Keeran could hear that he was closer now, no doubt trying to get a look at what Keeran was drinking.
“What is that?” the Vampire King asked, right on schedule.
“Tenebris,” Keeran put the crystal bottle away and re-closed the cabinet door, turning to face his guest. “I would offer you a glass, but it would kill you.”
Roman looked him right in the eyes, and Keeran could tell he was trying to figure out whether or not the Shadow King was joking. He wasn’t.
“You came to accuse me of being the traitor, didn’t you?” Keeran asked point-blank.
Roman’s expression gave the slightest hint that Keeran had hit the nail on the head .
But there was something in the vampire’s eyes that spoke of both disbelief and relief as well. “Personally, you were not the first one to pop into my head when the news was revealed that there was a turncoat among us,” Roman said, proving that he could read a man’s mind without having to actually read it after all. “You rarely change your colors.”
Keeran smiled. D’Angelo was certainly right about that. Keeran’s colors were all shades of black, and with what he was and always would be, that was probably never going to change.
“But I admit to being relieved that I can now cross you off the list for good.”
He’s referring to Violet, Keeran thought with a deep, unusual thrill. Previous spells cast to gather information on the traitor had revealed very little – other than the single exceedingly vital detail that whoever the traitor was, he didn’t have a queen.
Roman took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Speaking of dark things, I was wondering how much you might know about dark matter.”
Everything, Keeran thought. The reply came quick into his mind, strong and clear. He knew everything about dark matter. It was all around the mortal race, yet went undetected by them for the most part. What humans did surmise was that there was something in the dark spaces of the night sky that had too much mass to be nothing. That darkness filled ninety percent of the universe, but shed no light. Theorists guessed at what it could possibly be: space dust, planets that had no suns so we couldn’t see them, an element that they didn’t yet know about, or even billions of tiny black holes.
But Keeran knew what it was. And he knew that it would be a while before mortals were able to pin it down. When they did, they would scarcely believe what they’d found, and they definitely wouldn’t comprehend it. So they would search for an explanation for that as well. That was the beauty of science.
“I know a little,” he said aloud, lying through his teeth. “Why do you ask?”
Roman gave him a look that said he didn’t for one second believe Keeran actually knew a “little” about it, but he let it go and answered anyway. “We believe the Entity may be comprised of it.”
Chapter Eight
The Entity. That’s what they’d begun calling it – the creature that popular culture had labeled the Slenderman. It had a become a household word amongst the kings, only now they were saying it with meaning, as if it had been capitalized. “Did Lalura tell you that?” Keeran asked.
“No,” said Roman with a deep breath. He turned from Keeran and strode to his desk, where he rested against it and crossed his arms over his chest. “One of the queens did. At first, the Unseelie Queen couldn’t remember much of what happened in those moments before her encounter with the Entity. However, recently, she’s begun having dreams. Caliban claims she’s been waking up muttering the words ‘dark matter’.”
Keeran smiled. “You do realize she could simply be referring to the fact that this entire affair is one ‘dark matter.’”
Roman nodded. “Of course. But you understand I have to cover all of my bases. You’re stalking her, aren’t you?”
Keeran went still. The abrupt and sudden change of subject actually caught him off guard.
But now that Roman had pounced on the real matter at hand, he was apparently unwilling to back down. “You’re afraid to approach her with the fact that she’s your queen. You’re afraid she’ll fear you because of where you live and what you rule over. You’re afraid she’ll fear you and fight you. So you’re keeping your distance.”
“Spoken like someone with some practical experience in the matter.”
“Touché.” Roman uncrossed his arms. “I know where you’re coming from, certainly.” He slipped his hands once more into his pockets, and made his way toward the door. “But I’ll leave you with an acorn, Pitch.” He stopped at the door, grasped the knob, and looked back at Keeran over his shoulder. Their eyes met, and if the “acorn” comment hadn’t been enough to cinch it, that look was.
Roman knew everything. About Violet. About the diamond acorn necklace. He was even willing to bet he knew Violet was a rare fae warlock.
Of course he knows, he thought with an internal head-shake. D’Angelo knew Lalura, and Lalura was Violet’s magic teacher.
But he couldn’t give the vampire too much credit. Keeran had known about Evelynne Grace Farrow, who now went by Evie D’Angelo, before any of the other kings had known of her. He and Roman were a lot alike in some respects. Vampires moved fast through the darkness. And so did shadows.
“If she’s your queen, then there’s no point in waiting,” Roman said. “Because she’ll be just as obsessed with you.” Roman turned the knob and opened the door.
“Roman.”
The Vampire King stopped in the doorway and looked back.
“What was it that made you believe I might be the traitor?”
Roman hadn’t admitted that he’d ever really considered Keeran the traitor, and in fact he’d hinted at the opposite. But Keeran knew there had been doubt. Otherwise, Roman would not have ventured into the Shadow Realm.
Roman straightened, taking a deep breath. At last, he said, “You have a secret, Pitch. I can’t figure out what it is. But you have it.” He paused, letting it sink in.
Keeran thought about the parents D’Angelo must have had. One a warlock, and the other an Akyri. Vampires were the offspring of such a mating, and darkness followed with them. Roman could sense things that others couldn’t. Again, they had a lot in common.
“It has nothing to do with your recently found queen.” Roman shook his head. “It’s not that you’re leading a double life as a video game developer.” He smiled just a little. “Whose games are sweeping across the globe and making you and your faceless persona filthy, stinking rich.”
His smile slipped a little now. “It isn’t even that your releases feature worlds, creatures and circumstances that exist in our very real life. Which I have to admit is ballsy, by the way.” He said it as if he disapproved – but also understood. What better fantasy than that which was in fact reality?
He paused, tilting his head a little. “But whatever your secret is, it’s there all the same. I know it is.” He shrugged. “So I would be a piss-poor leader if I didn’t at least wonder.”
“And you were wondering if my secret is that I’ve betrayed you.”
“Maybe I was. Maybe not. I’ve decided that it isn’t, new developments considered. But I’m well aware you know more than ‘a little’ about dark matter, Pitch. Shadows are composed of it. That means you are too.”
Keeran didn’t miss a beat. “And you believe the Entity and I are therefore kindred spirits.”
Roman said nothing.
Keeran smiled.
“If you are,” Roman said, and a thick, heavy note of warning laced his words, “then you won’t be the only one after your newly found queen. Keep your eyes open.”
Roman stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Leaving Keeran alone with thoughts that had already been haunting him.
*****
“I’m worried about him.”
Bones looked up from where he was working on his master’s tray. Everything needed to be perfect. It wasn’t that Mr. Pitch demanded it be so, it was that Bones had always made it so, not only for Mr. Pitch, but for kings and emperors and rulers before him since time immemorial. And never once had he served up a less than perfect tray. He wasn’t about to begin now.
However, the incessant yammering of the fire elemental in the hearth was distracting.
“I mean, how long can a Pan –”
“It’s truly none of your business, you crackling busy body,” Bones interrupted curtly, cutting the elemental off mid-sentence. “Do mind your own affairs. Haven’t you anything to tend to in your own fiery realm?”
Pi hopped about a bit in the hearth. This particular fire place sported the usual orange and red flames, but Pi was a redder spot that stood out amongst the sea of flames. He was darker than usual, and Bones knew it meant he was embarrassed. The little flicker knew he’d been speaking out of turn.
“Sorry,” he said finally, his voice dejected. The length of Pi’s main flame shortened, and Bones felt a part of him soften for the young elemental.
“You are forgiven. Now, please do run along. If I’m not mistaken, Miss Chantelle was trying to perform a rather difficult spell requiring a good strong blaze. She could certainly use your manner of assistance.”
That did the trick. Pi’s flame lengthened again, and he jumped around a little more. “I’m on it!” he crackled. Then there were several more crackles, a pop, and the young fire elemental was gone, leaving only a normal fire in the butler’s burning hearth. Bones watched the empty space the flame had left behind.
Then he moved from the table where he left the tray and walked to the window. The world beyond was a casting of varying shades of black, from light gray to the ebon emptiness that encompassed the realm’s deepest depths. Beyond the mansion’s night garden was a gate. Beyond that gate was a trail through the woods. The woods had a name: The Unlit Forest. It was also sometimes referred to as the Unlit Woods. Or, quite simply, The Woods.
That trail through the Unlit Woods led to a second gate. And that gate opened up into a truly deep forest, a forest so dark and twisted, it was a veritable labyrinth of living wood. This forest was the entryway to the Dark.
His master was out there in that forest right now, circling the heart of the Shadow Realm in search of lost shadows. He was giving yet a little more of himself to save someone else, some soul who’d wandered too far, like a spectre in a rambling dream. Every night for thousands of years, he had done this.
There was no shadow quite like him. There never had been, and there never would be again. He was the single and only in a breed that was dead the moment it had been born. If the Shadow King perished, if the curse that was at the foundation and heart of what he was, grew to encompass the whole of him before he found what he needed to –
Now Bones cut himself off, breaking his own thoughts mid-sentence. He closed his eyes to shake his head. Out there in the darkness beyond the glass, a wolf howled. It was a haunting sound, a desperately lonely cry, and a call that unfortunately went unanswered.
Chapter Nine
Violet tucked her braid beneath the soft black fleece of her hoodie and glanced one more time over her shoulder. The alley behind her was all but empty. A cockroach sped hastily from one shadow to another between trash cans. Something deeper in a load of boxes made a scuffling sound. People passed by down at the entrance, where traffic whizzed noisily and the smells of cooking food wafted in to mix with the stench of rotting garbage.
Other than that, she was alone.
“You can’t hide what you are under that thing, you know.”
Violet squeaked in surprise and whirled around, readying defensive magic. But when she saw who was standing in front of her, she put her hand to her throat and nearly doubled over with relief. “Poppy! How the hell did you –”
Poppy smiled brightly. “I went on the Women for Wolves site earlier, like we do every week, and I saw you’d made a huge donation under your pseudonym. On a whim, I checked all the other charities you frequent, and you’d done the same there. Practically gave away your entire fae inheritance. I put two and two together. You’re obviously afraid you aren’t coming back.”
Violet touched her forehead and ground her teeth together.
“Plus, I followed your transport signature,” Poppy added gleefully. “First time I’ve done it without having to skip around, too. I’m getting better, you were right!”
Violet made a low sound of frustration. “You aren’t supposed to be here! You know you can’t come with me!”
Poppy made a face. “I’m pretty sure we’ve had this discussion.” She moved around Violet and gazed down the alley to the entrance. “You know you’re in the wrong place, right? The portal here leads to the Twixt right up against the border of the Goblin Kingdom.” She turned and fixed Violet with a quizzical gaze. “Why on earth would you want to head there?”
Violet felt her teeth clench again. She put her hands on her hips. “Poppy, you are not coming with me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I –”
But Poppy didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence, as just then, Violet let loose with a barrage of magic that stilled the words in Poppy’s mouth. A bubble of invisible force enshrouded the mortal magic user, covering her sk
in-tight, like a cocoon, and Poppy’s beautiful eyes went very, very wide. A look of terrible indignation crossed her features, and Violet felt her stomach drop.
She’d never before cast magic on her best friend. In fact, she’d never cast magic on anyone who hadn’t asked her to. And this wasn’t exactly a friendly spell. That’s not how Poppy would see it, anyway. It was a warlock spell referred to as Stillness that literally locked a person in place for a period of time. The more powerful the warlock, the longer the amount of time.
For Violet, it would probably only last minutes, most likely just long enough for her to make her escape into the Twixt and erase her signature so Poppy couldn’t follow her.
She could have used some of her fae magic, but… she’d had to come up with the spell without warning, and for some reason, she’d decided not to fall back on her own inherent magic. Instead, she’d instinctively used something Poppy would be familiar with. Maybe she had unconsciously hoped Poppy would understand the magic and be able to break free. Or maybe she’d simply felt it was unfair to do otherwise. Whatever the reason, it was the darker of the choices that she’d automatically turned to.
But she could wonder about it later. Right now, there was no time.
“I’m so, so sorry, Poppy,” she insisted as she backed away. “I owe you a thousand cups of coffee, I swear. I’m doing it because I love you. You have to believe me. I’m sorry!” She made a face, shrugged in a massively apologetic manner, and then turned and ran down the alley. As she drew closer to the brick wall at its end, that wall began to waver. The waver split open and spread, a black hole like an endless tunnel. A dark rainbow of colors moved in and out of view in veins along the tunnel’s edges, a colored signature that marked it as a doorway to the Twixt.
Violet ran head-long into the portal and jumped. The magical door slammed shut behind her with a sound like a lightning zap-suction cup, and Violet knew she was temporarily in the clear.
The Shadow King (The Kings Book 7) Page 5
