Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Adkins, Heather Marie

  That demon deserved no sympathy, especially from her. Even if he hadn’t known, he had done nothing to help her. Nothing! He had just left her there.

  “I may be alive now, Emma, but I don’t know how much longer that will last,” Haven said.

  “No, miss, please don’t talk like that,” Emma stammered. “I hate it when you talk like that.”

  “I know you don’t like hearing it, but it is true, and I don’t know how much more I can stand of this…”

  The maid covered her mouth with her hands.

  “I have to find a way out of here,” Haven went on, “and I want you to come with me, Emma.”

  Emma’s reply was only silence. She stared at her with panic and terror in her eyes.

  “Please, Emma. I will have it all planned out before we go. We can leave right before morning and―”

  Emma shook her head back and forth. “No, no, no, please! I can’t!”

  Haven sucked in as much air as she could hold without pain. “I’m sorry, dear,” Haven muttered. Emma was the only companion she had in this horrid place. She could not lose her. “I shouldn’t have brought it up again. Forgive me?”

  Emma nodded once, took her hands away from her face, and stepped closer the bed. “Of course, miss,” she whispered. “I just get so scared… We can get in great trouble for even thinking such things.”

  “I know, I know. It is selfish of me to worry you this way.”

  “Is there anything I could get you now that I am here?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. “Some tea, perhaps?”

  Haven’s eyes lifted to her wrists bound above her head. “What I would really like is to get out of these ropes.”

  Emma froze. “Oh, miss, I don’t know if I should…”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I will do it.”

  “How?”

  Haven’s gaze searched the canopy above her as she tried to think of a way for escape. She wasn’t going to lie there and wait for one of Henri’s guards to cut her loose. She needed something sharp enough to slice through the ropes.

  Like a letter opener.

  “The connecting door, there,” Haven said, lifting her chin to show her, “in Henri’s study, there should be a silver letter opener on his desk. Get that for me, but be careful.”

  Emma stared at her for a moment, as if she was contemplating whether or not she was serious. When Haven gave her a reassuring nod, Emma went to the door on light feet.

  “Be quick,” Haven called to her, “and touch nothing but the letter opener.”

  She watched the maid press her ear against the wood of the door, wait a moment before turning the handle, and then push it open. She disappeared into the study.

  Haven listened for any sounds, but there was only silence. A moment later, Emma reappeared and closed the door behind her. The metal of the letter opener in her hand caught the light and flashed white.

  “Now, put the letter opener in my hands facing down. Make sure the blade is in between my wrists.”

  “You could really hurt yourself,” said Emma.

  “I won’t,” she assured her. “I’m more concerned about you cutting yourself.”

  Emma, very carefully, did as Haven instructed. She paused when Haven’s fingers wrapped around the letter opener’s handle.

  “I will help you,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure? I could manage it by myself.”

  Emma swallowed with forced effort. “Yes, I’m sure,” she replied and took the handle from Haven’s gasp. She started to cut away at the many layers of rope. Her hands shook as she worked.

  Haven looked up and gave her a small smile. It vanished when the room’s door swung open.

  Emma gasped and leapt away from Haven. The letter opener fell out of her hold and landed somewhere behind Haven’s wrists.

  Lord Henri strolled into the room. His black eyes snapped toward them both, and his lip curled up. “Why are you in here?” he asked Emma with venom. “I didn’t call to have my bedding changed yet.”

  The young maid staggered back, the back of her legs hitting the side table and making the glass on the tray rattle. “M-My lord... I…”

  Henri closed the space between them in two great strides. With his great height, he towered over her. Emma tried taking another step back, but she collided with the wall, and she stayed frozen there, unable to move or speak.

  Henri wasn’t pleased. Haven saw his fangs extend as his lips parted.

  “Answer me!” he commanded.

  Emma shrieked in terror.

  “I called for her,” Haven shouted, making sure not to move. Her escape attempt had to remain hidden.

  Henri’s gaze went to her. “You?” he said. “And why is that?”

  Haven glanced at Emma then back at him. “I asked one of your guards for tea,” she lied. She tried to wipe all emotion from her face. “They sent her.”

  Henri looked down at the tray on the side table. “Tea,” he repeated. One of his black brows lifted in suspicion.

  “It was a simple request,” Haven replied.

  “You don’t deserve tea,” he spat at her. “You don’t deserve water.” In one swift motion, he picked up the tray and flung it across the room. Emma screamed at the sound of metal banging against the wall and glass shattering.

  “Get out,” was all he said to her.

  Chest heaving, she looked at Haven again. Her cheeks were wet and shining from her spilled tears. Haven’s heart twisted.

  Go, she mouthed to Emma. Run…

  Emma slipped around Henri as quickly as she could and ran out the door.

  Henri glanced at the place on the wall beside the stain glass window where the tea had splattered. He shook his head, as if he was disappointed, and moved around the four-poster bed until he was on the opposite side. Only when he sat on the bed’s edge near Haven’s waist did he look at her again.

  He laid a bony hand just above her knee. His hand traveled up her thigh, his black eyes never wandering from hers.

  Ignoring the pain in her cramping muscles, she jerked her leg, making his hand fall away. Henri’s expression never changed. He returned his hand higher on her body. His fingers captured the hem of her dress and lifted it as he continued past her hip and up the curve of her waist.

  He paused, and his lips parted, hungry. Before Haven could question it, two of Henri’s fingers dug into the healing wounds on the top of her left breast.

  The pain was excruciating, the healing, bruised skin stinging from the reopened wounds. Haven squirmed under his touch. Henri only pressed into the skin harder, making her scream.

  “You will not leave this bed tonight or tomorrow. Do you understand me?” he said, curling his fingers so that his nails dug into the holes.

  Haven screamed as the muscles underneath the skin twitched. She could feel more blood leaking and running down her chest.

  A cruel smile twisted Henri’s lips.

  “I think you understand,” he said. He removed his fingers from her and rose onto his feet. “You need to heal before I can let you out again. Use this time to think about everything we have talked about.”

  He lifted his fingers up to examine the fresh blood there. The ruby liquid gleamed, and he ran his thumb over it as if it was a fine jewel.

  Henri drifted to the door. “You put this on yourself, you know,” he said, opening the door. “Stop pushing me away.” He left.

  The moment the door clicked closed again, Haven stretched out her fingers for the letter opener. To her luck, it was resting on the top of her pillow near her head. She grabbed the handle, her mind made. She could not stay here a moment longer.

  Haven’s breath caught at the thought of Emma. She understood her fear. Haven didn’t want to leave her here alone, but Emma had made her choice to stay. Haven just was not willing to do the same.

  Haven worked with the blade, taking her time to cut away the rope. One by one, the ties gave away and the pressure in her wrists eased. When the last strand
broke and the rope fell loose, Haven used the rest of her strength to pull her hands apart and sit up in bed.

  Blood rushed to her head, making her vision blur and her head whirl. She pressed her eyelids closed for a moment, took several deep breaths, and waited until the dizziness passed. Then, despite the screaming protests of her muscles, Haven moved to the edge of the bed and lifted herself up to stand on her own two feet.

  5

  “You should change into something more comfortable,” Lysander said as he and Avrum walked up the main staircase where the maid, Emma, had disappeared some time ago. “You don’t want to practice in a tailored suit and polished shoes. Especially, if you have never worked with a sword before.”

  Avrum nodded. He tried to suppress the excitement bouncing inside him as they walked through the hallways and passed bedroom doors.

  Lysander made sure to keep his voice no higher than a whisper. “I am going to make up for some of the sleep that I’ve lost now, and we will meet back in the foyer at dawn.”

  “Right,” he replied.

  “In order to make this the least bit conspicuous as possible, I will show you the stances and some exercises and return to my duties, allowing you practice time on your own. I will come back and check on you giving you more instruction throughout the day.”

  They went up another set of stairs and turned down the east hallway where more doors lined the walls on either side. Rarely did Avrum come down this way since his own bedroom lay in the main hall, along with Henri’s bedroom and Haven’s as well. He had no reason to travel farther than that.

  “Looks like sleep is going to come sparingly for the both of us,” Avrum said with a short laugh. He looked over at Lysander’s face, hoping for a lighthearted reaction.

  His gray eyes just drifted over to him tiredly. “I have slept long enough in my lifetime.” He continued walking in long strides.

  Avrum did not reply. He wasn’t sure what Lysander meant by that, but he obviously didn’t want to be pressed further.

  “It’s Avrum and the Frenchman!”

  Avrum winced, knowing who the high-pitched voice belonged to before he and Lysander even turned around. Standing in the middle of the hallway behind them was Keagan and Cornelius, their hands resting on the hilt of the swords at their hips.

  Avrum felt Lysander tense beside him.

  “What do you want, Keagan?” Avrum spoke for the both of them.

  “I’ve been looking for you, actually,” he replied, his thin lips curling up at the corners. He took a small step forward.

  “Me?” he asked, glancing over at Lysander. “Why me?”

  “I have a bit of good news for you, boy,” he went on. “You have been lifted from your duties over that little tramp, Haven.”

  Avrum felt his heart stop at the mention of her.

  “That’s right. I will be looking after her from now on,” said Keagan with a very pleased look on his impish face. “You know, since you are going to be handling more important things being Henri’s second. He doesn’t want you distracted with chasing after the girl anymore.”

  The memory of Keagan and Cornelius tying Haven to Henri’s bed flashed before his eyes. How Keagan had pressed his lips against her forehead, his beady eyes locking with Avrum’s gaze.

  Avrum gritted his teeth, and his nails bit into the palms of his hands. The urge to strike the Irish bastard made his limbs shake. He knew what his intentions truly were. He had been working alongside Henri since the beginning. Avrum lunged forward, but Lysander’s quick hand snatched his elbow and jerked him back. He growled.

  “He’s not worth it.” Lysander’s voice was calm behind him, but his grip was firm on his arm. “Leave it be.”

  Keagan lifted his long, pointed nose up in satisfaction. “I’ll make sure to treat her well,” he said, his tone growing husky and full of implications. “She won’t be running away from me, that’s for sure. If anything, she’ll be coming back for more.”

  Avrum lurched toward him again, but Lysander continued to hold him back.

  Cornelius chuckled behind his friend, his shaggy hair dancing in front of his eyes.

  “Come on, Avrum. We don’t have time to waste on these two,” said Lysander. He tugged Avrum back.

  “Time?” Keagan implored, switching his attention to Lysander. “You have plenty of time now that you lost your title as head of the guard.” He patted the hilt of his sword. “Honestly, the title was never meant for a Frenchman. They are too busy powdering their faces and sewing their stockings to learn how to wield a weapon.”

  “You better hold your tongue, Keagan,” Lysander said without any emotion to his threatening words. Avrum was surprised that his friend was able to control himself so well.

  “And why is that?” he snapped.

  Lysander shrugged. “My skill is what gained me the guard position. You gained it by my little mistake and that’s all.”

  Keagan drew his sword faster than Avrum could blink. He held it out toward them with both hands around the handle. Lysander’s heavy-lidded eyes studied him up and down, and Avrum saw a slight smile crack his emotionless expression.

  “Be careful with that now, Keagan,” he said simply. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

  “Oh, shut it, Lysander.”

  “Put the sword away,” Avrum told him.

  Keagan didn’t move. “I’m the head of the guard,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “And Avrum is Henri’s second-in-command.” Lysander lifted his chin toward Cornelius. “That means he has authority over you and your moronic friend there.”

  Avrum pulled back his shoulders and straightened his back. He was right. Being Henri’s second did mean the only person he answered to was the lord. He grinned. This could be more beneficial than he thought.

  The same realization seemed to pass over Keagan’s face, and he grimaced as he sheathed his sword again. He snarled, gestured for Cornelius to follow him, and opened one of the bedroom doors. They went inside and slammed the door shut behind them. The thunderous sound echoed throughout the hall.

  Avrum glanced over at Lysander. “One of these days I’ll make him eat his words.”

  Lysander nodded, as if he understood Avrum’s anger. “That day cannot be today. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves and cause suspicion,” he replied. “It could hurt our chance of training you.”

  The sound of quick footsteps made him pause. His gaze snapped to the end of the hall. A figure hurried past, draped in a dark cloak. Avrum could just make out the paleness of the hands that held the midnight-blue material tighter around its neck.

  A sinking feeling told Avrum that it was Haven who had just ran past him. He looked over at Lysander, and his curious expression told him that he was right.

  How did she even have the strength to move? When he had left her, she could barely keep her eyes open, and now she was on the run again?

  He had to stop her. If Keagan caught her this time or if Henri found out―

  Avrum forced those memories away.

  “Go on,” Lysander whispered.

  “What?”

  He gestured toward the end of the hall. “Go on. I know what you are thinking, and you should.” Lysander placed a hand on Avrum’s shoulder. “She will be in even more trouble if Keagan finds her. Go get her and bring her back safely.”

  Avrum gave his friend a grateful smile and hurried off in the direction Haven had disappeared to.

  * * *

  Pain exploded in her temples and her muscles twitched with every step she took, but she didn’t slow her pace. She had wasted enough time going to her room and taking a winter cloak and boots from the trunk at the foot of her bed.

  She snuck down the back staircase to the courtyard doors. She opened the heavy wood only a little and slid herself through the crack, making sure to make as little noise as possible. The moment she stepped into the frigid night, a gust of icy wind blew past her. The skin on her exposed cheeks and hands burned. She wa
lked along the stone path that led around the front of the manor. There was a lightness in the air that made Haven think of an early snowfall. She bought her hands back into the cloak and grasped the white fur that lined the interior to draw it closer to her trembling body.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have gone out tonight. She could feel the chill in her bones, and her knees were quivering under the weight of her. The wounds on her neck and chest still throbbed, and the cut across her right cheek stung with the slightest touch of the night breeze. She started to doubt that she could even make the journey to the city.

  She glanced back at Greystone’s facade and tried to resurface the memory of her father’s face. She could see his silver touched hair and the hunch to his worn, heavy shoulders. His face, though, was just a hazy blur. His eyes are blue, she told herself. A kind, soft shade of blue… But the vision of him did not become any clearer.

  How could she forget what her own father looked like?

  That horrible thought made her press on, walking along the pathway. It led from the manor to a dirt road. She would follow it a mile until she reached the city gate. From there she would walk through the empty streets until she reached the poorer side of the town. Just thinking about the distance she had to travel made a wave of pain rock through her body.

  She tried not to think of Emma and how she was leaving her behind. She had to focus on what was ahead of her, not behind. My father, she thought. My father is ahead of me, and my freedom.

  “Haven!”

  Her heart leapt as her name sliced through the thick silence of the night. She hadn’t even made it off the manor property and already Avrum had found her and was on her tail. She quickened her pace, panic driving her forward.

  “Haven, stop...” His voice sounded heavy with all the things he wanted to say.

  Still she didn’t.

  Then, he was in front of her.

  Her feet stopped short in the stiff, dead grass, but her weight shifted forward. Her knees buckled. Avrum caught her before she could touch the ground. His hands were gentle on her arms as he lifted her to her feet again. When she was right again, he stepped away from her.