Solace

by Raven Dark

  “Petal, are you okay? Do you feel any better at all?”

  Did I feel better? The dizziness and nausea were gone, for the most part. Bone-weary exhaustion, whether from the seizure or from all that had happened hours ago, was still there. And of course that horrible fear over everything Julian was doing.

  “No, Master. I don’t think I am.”

  At my admission, Steel turned me so that I sat sideways and could look at him. The worry and the helplessness I saw in him broke my heart, and I almost felt guilty. But I owed these men my honesty.

  “I don’t know what’s happening, Master. I…I don’t understand how there are male Violets. I don’t understand who this Julian person is. I—”

  Steel put his hand on my chest, cutting me off. “Shhh…Petal, your heart’s going a thousand miles an hour. None of us know what the fuck is going on, but we’re going to get some answers. Okay? We’ll take care of you.”

  I only nodded and turned my head away, staring at the small flame of the lantern on the table. After a few moments, Doc came into the room. He nodded at Steel and looked at Sheriff across the room.

  “Setora, how are you feeling?” he whispered, crossing to the table and setting his kit on it.

  “She’s tired, Doc. Wiped the fuck out.” Steel sat me up a bit so that Doc could feel for my pulse.

  “I’m sure she is. Setora, I want you to eat something before we leave in an hour. Just something small for now. Did Sheriff explain to you about the trip to Mayhem’s?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re leaving that soon? What time is it?” My heart sped up at the thought of being outside the protection of the Grotto again.

  “It’s a little after one. Sheriff wants to take advantage of as much of the dark hours as possible.”

  He sat at the table and told me that he’d be sedating me, that I was going to ride in one of the carriages we brought back from Delta. He assured me I wouldn’t be awake enough for any harm to come to me if Julian or my trances were to start up again.

  “After you have some soup, I’m going to inject you with the sedative. Pretty Boy has packed your clothing, and you won’t need anything other than a frock and a blanket for the ride there. It’s a short trip, and we’re not getting out of the carriage until we reach Hollow Hill.”

  The door opened, admitting Gore, who carried a tray of what I assumed was my soup. He placed it on the table and began packing a bag for Sheriff, opening drawers and rummaging through the contents.

  The whole time I watched, Doc and Steel talked about the trip. Aside from the words extra security and weapons, the conversation was background noise.

  “Gore, when you’re done, go get Hawk and bring him here.” Sheriff’s sleepy, gruff voice brought me back to my surroundings. When had he woken up?

  I looked down at my now empty bowl. I’d finished my soup without realizing it. I didn’t remember even tasting it.

  “Steel, put her on the bed for me, then go grab a clean frock from the bottom drawer over there,” Doc said.

  Steel carried me back to Sheriff’s bed, covered me with blankets and kissed my forehead. While he went to the dresser to grab a frock, Doc checked my vitals again.

  “Sheriff?” Hawk called softly from the door.

  “Have the Brothers of Brimstone come join us,” Sheriff called back. “We’ll do the patching-in in here. Is everyone ready? T-Man and Bear’s loaded everything up?”

  I didn’t catch the rest of the conversation because Steel and Doc were helping me into a frock.

  I was so numb and felt so lost. Were we really leaving the Grotto again?

  “Master,” I looked up at Steel. “Who all is going with us and how far away is it?”

  “Won’t take us long at all, a few hours with the carriages. As for who all is going, it’s the usual suspects.” Steel chuckled at his humor as he patted my covered leg.

  “The girls are coming with us too?” I closed my eyes, feeling a bit woozy again, from the food, I guessed. The room seemed to fill with more people, the voices hard to focus on.

  “Just Cherry, Petal. The Brothers of Brimstone are going to come with us, then be on their way—ow! What the fuck was that for, Doc?”

  I opened my eyes, trying to latch onto Steel’s and Doc’s odd exchange. Steel stared hard at Doc who only shrugged at him.

  What was that about?

  “Master?”

  Steel plastered a grin on his face, then kissed my forehead again. “Just Doc’s clumsy ass stepping on my foot is all.”

  I didn’t believe him but didn’t press.

  “Now, Doc’s going to give you that shot, then I’m in charge of holding you all the way there, Petal. The next time you wake up, you’ll be at Mayhem’s and we’ll have some answers. All right?”

  A faint smile was all I could give him. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good. Doc, do your thing.”

  He walked away and joined Sheriff and Hawk who were standing with the Brothers of Brimstone. Reaper held up a hand and nodded at me, as did Savage. Pretty Boy, who must have come in at some point, stood near the table, along with T-Man and Crank. Sinister and Beast entered, and Sinister closed the doors to the room.

  “What’s going on, Doc?” I turned to him.

  “They’re about to be sworn in as Dark Legion.” Doc rubbed an alcohol-dipped swab on my arm.

  “In here?”

  Doc chuckled at my surprise. “Yep, in here. Special circumstances, Setora. All right. You’ll feel a pinch, then you’ll start feeling a bit light-headed. After that, I’ll see you when you wake up. You’re going to be fine.” Doc patted my shoulder, and I turned away to look back at the men, trying to tune into what Sheriff was saying.

  “…of you know how rare it is for the Dark Legion to take on new members, much less four at once. But these four men—Sinister, Savage, Reaper, Beast—have more than proven themselves worthy of the Dark Legion’s patch. Due to time...”

  Sleep claimed me. I heard no more.

  * * *

  I was in my garden again.

  Black marble urns with those white blossoms nodded in a gentle breeze, the Aurora’s Wings’ soft pink throats exposed to bright sunlight.

  Peace and serenity surrounded me, and yet what had now become a familiar sense of dread quickly eclipsed it, trepidation so intense it made my scalp tingle.

  As with the time I was here before, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the distance out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look at him, there was no one there, only a row of trees that outlined the edge of the field where he’d been standing. Or where I’d thought he’d been standing.

  The figure was the man with no face; I knew that as surely as I knew the back of my own hand.

  On the other side of me, that stone bench sat amid a patch of wildflowers. Water burbled in the same massive stone fountain I’d seen last time. The familiar alabaster statue stood atop the fountain, a woman with her arms outstretched in welcome.

  I went to the bench, the soft grass tickling my bare feet. That ominous chanting began somewhere in the distance, a chorus of voices so faint I couldn’t make out any of the words.

  Sitting on the bench, the solid, cool stone felt somehow reassuring. Real.

  Something made me look up toward the statue of the woman again.

  I startled. Had her arms moved? They’d previously been in a different position, held out, welcoming me. Calling me to be near her. Now she had one arm out and a hand up, as if to tell me to halt, stay away. Her face was chiseled in a foreboding look of warning.

  I shivered.

  The voices continued to chant. I sat perfectly still, trying to hear them. As though they sensed my need to be heard, the voices grew louder until I could make out the words.

  “…Is. Coming. Revolution. Is. Coming. Revolution. Is. Coming.”

  My breath caught, and gooseflesh crept up my arms. Those were the words I’d been saying earlier. When I’d been speaking with his voice. Words I was now sure I’d said eve
n before the incident in the clubhouse.

  “You hear them, don’t you?”

  I jumped up. The faceless man was sitting on the bench, right next to where I’d been sitting.

  “Julian.” I gritted the word out. The memory of what he’d done to me made my fists clench. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

  The figure’s head tilted slightly. “Ah, yes. You still cannot see me. Let’s fix that, young one.”

  Julian sat motionless while his face, previously nothing more than a featureless oval shape, began to form the clearly defined features of a man. The tell-tale signs of a Violet appeared—hair the color of my own but with a hint of bronze, and hooded eyes that sparkled like dark amethysts in the sun. He was beautiful, appearing not much older than Sheriff. My breath caught at the full-mouthed smile he gave me.

  “There. I am Julian, and I’ve waited for a long, long time for this moment, Cama Di.”

  “Why are you here in my garden?”

  “Wrong.” His voice wasn’t coarse or forceful; rather, its musical cadence was matter of fact and perfectly calm. He cast his gaze about this sanctuary. My sanctuary. “It is not your garden. It is mine. All that you have is mine.”

  I took a small step back. “You’re lying. This is my place. Leave.”

  He gave a melodic laugh. “I speak the truth. Watch.”

  I didn’t want to do anything this…man asked, but my head moved at his direction nonetheless.

  The flowers in the urns slowly wilted and died. The cobalt sky was suddenly black with that horrible burning sun at its center. I snapped my eyes to him. His beautiful face conveyed concentration. He gestured out toward the garden with a sweep of his hand.

  Flames erupted all about the meadow, turning the trees to torches of flame. I could feel the heat of the fire on my skin.

  “How? How are you doing that?” I demanded.

  “Everything here is mine, Setora. What is here lives and dies at my command. The trees. The flowers. The grass. You.”

  The threat sent a chill up my spine. Hawk had said my garden was my Fortress. If he’d been wrong…

  I turned to leave. I needed to get far, far away from this man.

  Julian’s hand seized my wrist. I tugged, but his grip tightened enough to make me almost cry out.

  Maker, he was strong. Impossibly so. I tried to pry his fingers from my wrist, but they were like steel, unyielding.

  “Don’t run from me, Cama Di. You can’t escape.”

  The voices began to chant so loudly, my head pounded with their resonance.

  “Revolution. Is. Coming. Revolution…”

  “I am not your…whatever you said. Let go of me!”

  “Oh, but you are.” He stood without releasing me, an unnaturally smooth movement. The shoulders of his white robes were pointed at the tips like last time, the width of them drawing attention to his breadth.

  “You can’t save them, Setora.” He flicked his eyes at the sky, toward the voices that seemed to speak from it like the voices of a dozen angels.

  Angels trapped and forced to speak words he’d put into their mouths.

  “No one can save them. They are mine, as are you.”

  “No!” I yanked my arm free, or tried to, but he pulled me to him. His hand was suddenly around my throat.

  “Yes, my young one.” His voice took on a steely tone. “All who are of the Kren are mine.”

  “Let me go!” Panic morphed into terror as his hand squeezed, his god-like face in mine.

  “If I tighten my hand so much as a fraction, it’s over, Setora. If I wish, fire will lick your skin at my command, and you will burn to ash.”

  My head was starting to feel light. I clawed at his hand, at his face.

  In an instant, he became Hawk. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle.

  The next instant, he hissed in pain and released me, all traces of Hawk gone. I staggered, drawing in ragged breaths and holding my throat. What had made him let go?

  “You.” Julian’s voice was a snarl. He was cradling his arm, and an arrow stuck out from between his fingers. “How are you here?”

  I followed his glare. Stalking in from the left, a figure approached. He held a bow in his hand, a crimson hood framing his face. I could just make out strange metallic arm bands peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his long cloak.

  Julian grabbed me, pushing me behind him.

  As soon as the figure drew near enough, Julian’s hands shot out to push him away. Julian moved with a trained motion, a warrior’s strike, but he missed, because the figure blocked him, shoving his hands away, equally well-trained. I moved just in time as the warrior punched Julian right in the head.

  Julian flew backward, slamming into one of those urns, sending the planter to the grass. The figure stalked forward as Julian got to his feet.

  “You are not welcome here, Yantu. Be gone.” Julian waved his hand, but the figure didn’t disappear, as he was clearly supposed to.

  Instead, the warrior’s hand shot out, seizing Julian’s throat and lifting him up off his feet, a clear foot off the grass. The bow that had been in the warrior’s grip was gone now, as if it had disappeared at will, freeing his hands.

  I should have ran then, but I was frozen in shock at the sight of a human lifting another off the ground so effortlessly. The figure’s hooded head turned to me while he continued to hold Julian in the air with one hand.

  The hood that had been around my rescuer’s face was now on his shoulders. One moment, it had been up, the next it was down, as though it had changed position with his thoughts alone. When I saw the warrior’s face, I froze in place, staring, my heart in my throat.

  That’s not possible…

  “Liberator…ruuuunnnnn!” The warrior shouted at me.

  Someone was shaking me.

  I jerked awake, and the dream was gone.

  Chapter 19

  At the Hold on Hollow Hill

  “Petal.”

  I’d said Setora’s pet name several times and shook her, but she didn’t wake. Doc was at her side with me in an instant, kneeling on the carriage floor.

  “Petal,” I repeated. She lay motionless, her eyes moving behind her lids.

  “Setora, wake up.” Doc shook her, the alarm in his voice echoing the protective fear that turned my blood colder than a witch’s tit.

  My woman jerked upright with a gasp, her eyes wide.

  “Steel…” Her breathing was ragged. With fear, I thought.

  I drew her close to me and held her, or I meant to, but she grabbed my arms, staring up at me.

  “It’s okay, Petal. You’re safe.”

  She opened her mouth to respond but didn’t get the chance.

  “Everything all right over there, Steel?”

  I glanced at Reaper who sat on the opposite side of the carriage, then to Doc. He was watching Setora with concern.

  “She’s fine, Reaper,” Doc answered for me after he gave her a quick look over, checking her pulse. “Were you having a nightmare again?” he asked her.

  She’d appeared lost in thought, like she was trying to process something—from the dream, I assumed.

  She shook herself and focused on Doc. “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought so. You were thrashing around just now before we woke you up. The sedative I gave you must have worn off. How do you feel?”

  “She had a nightmare again?” Hawk glanced back from the driver’s seat, his amber eyes concerned.

  “I’m fine, Master. Doc. I…. Are we at Mayhem’s yet?”

  “Almost.” I looked down at her, checking to see if she really was all right.

  Setora looked out the side window.

  Hills of desert sand covered miles of land, giving the impression we’d arrived at the ass end of nowhere, except for a lone fortress visible outside the front window. It looked ten stories high, and twice as wide as it was tall. The desert wind had blown sand drifts up the side. The single structure had what had to b
e a hundred windows that I could see. A bigger one looked out from near the top, a lookout of some sort. A huge red flag draped from the roof and down the wall, its insignia in all black against a blood-red backdrop. The symbol was a skulled figure with a scythe in his fist, the words Angels of Mayhem MC surrounding it.

  “This is Hollow Hill?” Setora ogled the massive structure, the entire thing surrounded by nothing but sand hills.

  Sheriff nodded. “That’s the place. Ever seen anything like it?”

  “No, Master. It’s amazing.”

  “It looks a lot like some of the places in Devil’s Breath. Except for those dunes,” Reaper said.

  “It’s ugly as fuck,” I grumbled. “Nothing but sand.” Those were the kind of deep drifts that hid too many secrets and buried a man alive if he didn’t watch himself.

  “I think it’s kind of beautiful.” Setora gave me a tired grin.

  I made a disgusted face at her and Sheriff snorted at us.

  The carriage descended toward a flat area not far from the building.

  “With a name like Hollow Hill, I was expecting something different,” Reaper said.

  “Like what?” Hawk set the carriage down.

  “Trees. Forest. Something creepier.”

  “It is creepy.” As soon as the carriage shut off, Sheriff turned to us. “We’ll have to wait here for Mayhem’s people to escort us. If anyone wants to stretch or get some air, do so now, but be ready to go. Hawk, open the back up, will you? Then stand guard. Reaper, you’ll come with me while I talk to T-Man and the others. Doc, Steel, stay with Setora.”

  “Coming, General.” Reaper picked up his bow and quiver from under the back seat.

  Hawk climbed out of the front and opened the back of the carriage. Reaper jumped out.

  It didn’t go unnoticed that Reaper addressed Sheriff like he was his leader instead of Ash. Until today, none of the Brothers of Brimstone had done that, always calling him Sheriff. I felt an absurd pleasure hearing them call him General. They were one of us now. While in Devil’s Breath, Ash was their General, but here, Sheriff was their leader and they’d treat him as such.