West (A Darkness Series Novel)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  She sat up in her seat. “Doesn’t hurt to be organized and ready.”

  “Sure, darlin’.” I winked and sat back in my seat. “Let me know when you need me to nod and say, Yes, sounds great.”

  Her brow furrowed, but she kept talking, as though to reconfirm the plan more to herself than me. Her voice was like melting chocolate, so she could be reading the periodic chart and I would want to hear more. I finished my drink and let her voice lure my eyes shut. It was the most peaceful I’d felt in a long time. But I knew the moment I truly let myself go under the nightmares would come for me. I could feel them lingering at the edge, waiting for me to drift off.

  The moment my strength gave in, they pounced.

  ***

  Spikes burrowed deeper into my neck with every tug of the chain, and blood slid down my back, splattering on the stone floor.

  “Come, pet.” The woman before me yanked on the heavy chain. “I will have you collar-broken by the end of the day...if it kills you.” She smiled, her red lips parting in twisted humor, her flaming red hair braided and hanging over her shoulder. She pulled me through the halls, her ass wiggling proudly at her catch. Her dress was flowing and soft but sheer in areas that made you do a double take.

  She was beautiful. But then the Seelie Queen would be. She was Ember’s aunt, and I could see some family traits. But everything I adored about Ember, I despised about the Queen.

  Aneira paraded me through the court, naked and bleeding with only a spiked collar wrapped around my neck that was slowly killing me. Soldiers, kitchen staff, and her circle of the fae high court all spit on me and yelled obscenities as I passed by. Their hatred for the Dark, the Unseelie, remained as strong as ours for them.

  She had been coming daily for a week to humiliate me, but today something felt different. A giddiness showed in her step as she led me down a hallway. A guard opened the door for her the moment she approached.

  “Come, pet. I have lots of fun in store for us today.” She dragged me into a square stone room. My heart and lungs stopped. Chains hung from the ceiling with wrist, neck, and feet cuffs. A chair with metal restraints sat in the middle. Various leather whips and clubs with barbed wire laced between the strips lined the walls, along with a table full of sex-torture devices. There was more, but my brain couldn’t absorb all I saw, sheer terror dotting my sight. “Think it’s time you learned some obedience.”

  The door slammed so loudly behind me I jumped. The guard left me alone with the Queen. Acid built in my stomach, bile rising into my gorge, making me gag.

  “Don’t make that face. I promise rewards if you do well.” She jerked me farther to her, showing another section of the room.

  My lungs halted, and my gut fell through the floor. I was going to throw up—I had no doubt.

  A bed sat in the corner with speared handcuffs dangling from the headboard. This was not a little S&M. This was designed to utterly break you, to brutalize and torment till you begged for death.

  Darkness squeezed my vision as she dragged me forward, bellows reverberating off the wall full of anguish.

  They were my own.

  ***

  My lids bolted open, and I wheezed in air. Rez stood over me, my fingers wrapped around her arm in a death grip. I jerked my head around, regaining my thoughts and whereabouts.

  Plane. Rez. Right…

  “Nightmare?” she asked quietly, her expression laced with sympathy, immediately setting my teeth on edge. Everyone knew generally what happened to me when I was held prisoner by Aneira, which I despised, but no one knew the full truth.

  And they never would.

  “No,” I snapped.

  “Really?” Her eyebrows lifted. “You normally scream out in your dreams?”

  “No, usually she does,” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

  Rez’s lips pressed together with a frown. Her gaze flashed to my hand then back to me. It was then I noticed I still clutched her small wrist like a vise. My hand dropped away from her, the imprint of my hand still marking her skin.

  “We’ve landed.” Rez stood fully, her appearance impeccable. She looked like she was going to New York for business in her knee-length heeled black boots, a gray pencil skirt with matching jacket and deep red blouse underneath, and her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She didn’t appear like someone going on a hunting mission in remote parts of Ireland, where sheep outnumbered people.

  “Garrett and Cadoc took our luggage to the car.” She hooked her bag holding all the documents over her shoulder. The black antenna from the walkie-talkie phone stuck out of her satchel. Lars wanted us to check in and keep him updated with any news. “Shall we go, Mr. Moseley?”

  Back to being formal with me. Her nervousness and teasing were gone. All professional.

  I nodded as my eyes tracked her down the row to the exit. My gaze latched on to her ass as she walked away. Jesus. The woman’s figure was amazing. West, I warned myself and swung back around in my seat, raking a hand over my face. Stop. She’s like a Gabby. Sister...or nun. Damn, there better be some Irish lasses I can utilize along the way.

  I stood, picked up the last of my whiskey, and slammed it back. Yeah, this was going to be so much fun.

  Ginger-Nuts and Beefhead dropped us off at the Hayfield Manor Hotel. My gaze locked on the thousand twinkle lights trimming the hotel, lighting our way through the cold winter evening, the building old and beautiful. Ireland had fared far better than cities in the States after the barrier fell between worlds. The older the architecture, the more resilient it seemed to be to magic.

  Ireland had always been the most magic-saturated place, even with the walls in place. It was the first place after Seattle to get electricity and the new magical-based equipment to function. Besides some of the newer crumbled buildings, Ireland looked mostly untouched by the war’s effect, and this hotel in particular.

  “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I got out of the car, staring at the hotel. “This is your idea of being inconspicuous?”

  It was like stepping into one of those chick movie sets from the 1800s. The three-story Georgian manor was built from old, red brick covered in ivy with white painted dormers. Topiary plants and a perfectly trimmed lawn lined the way up the cobblestone path to the door. A warm glow reflected across the drive.

  “It’s only for the night.” Rez shut the door and came around to me. “There is no reason we can’t hide in a luxury hotel as easily as a dump.”

  “You’ve never been on a mission have you, darlin’?” I smirked, glancing over at her. She pinned her lips together, not looking at me. “Believe me, seedy doesn’t ask questions nor does it care to know your name or if you have a credit card. Easier to disappear or make someone else vanish.”

  She huffed lightly, then took off for the front door. “I apologize. You will just have to suffer the inconvenience of Egyptian cotton sheets, a Jacuzzi bathtub, an indoor pool, and a steam-powered shower for a night.” She grabbed the door, twisting to me, her free hand going to her chest. “My deepest apologies.” She dissolved into the buttery light of the hotel.

  A grin hitched my mouth, and I shook my head. Feisty thing.

  “Get your bloody bags out of the boot,” Garrett yelled from the driver’s seat. “I’m not your fuckin’ butler.”

  My smile dropped and became a growl. I went around to the trunk, called a “boot” here, and retrieved the two bags. I actually was shocked when I saw Rez’s suitcase. I expected a girl like her to bring five pieces, full of inappropriate clothes and shoes. But she packed light, ready for the unknown journey ahead.

  Slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder, I slammed the trunk. Garrett tore away, spitting dirt and pebbles into my face.

  “Yeah, screw you too, Ginger-Nuts,” I screamed after the car as I picked up Rez’s bag and headed inside.

  The interior was even more beautiful and elegant with dark mahogany furniture and paneling, delicate rich fabrics, chandeliers, and antiques. A grand staircase dominated
the lobby, curving into two wings of the hotel on the next floor. I was so out of my element, the bull in a china shop. One look at me in my worn jeans, scuffed boots, faded T-shirt, and abused brown biker jacket, and you knew I didn’t belong.

  On the other hand, Rez fit so well, it was like the place was designed around her. This was her element, elegant and classy, and far from my world of bikers, coarse language, and even coarser women. This was where she belonged, while I should be at some low-class bar where I could relate.

  She held her head high, confidently walking up to the check-in desk. Her gorgeous voice carried over to me, deep and fluid.

  The old man behind the desk didn’t even look my way when I reached her side, his undivided attention stuck on Rez with a dreamlike stare. The siren call, even when she wasn’t “working,” was hard to disregard. Simply walking in a room she demanded your attention, and when she spoke all eyes turned to her.

  “Checking in to the two master suites, Patrick Murphy and Colleen Kelly.”

  I almost snorted. You couldn’t get too much more common than Murphy and Kelly in Ireland, like Brown and Smith in the States. It was good for a cover. Names that didn’t stand out were better and blended with the crowd.

  “Yes.” He nodded, his Irish accent thick. “Two master suites.”

  “Are they next to each other?” I queried, wanting to make sure she was somewhere I could reach quickly if needed.

  “No, sir. They are down the hall from each other.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Wes…Patrick, it’s only for one night. It will be fine.” Rez placed her hand on my arm.

  Every instinct told me to fight, but being in this place already made me feel like a lowly commoner. Unsettled. I was overreacting, tired, and feeling out of place here. I relented with a grunt and grabbed the bags.

  “We have someone to do that, sir.” The man behind the desk nodded toward the bags. On cue a man dressed in a butler outfit came up behind me. He was of slight build and appeared to be in his late sixties.

  “I think I got it.” The man reached to take the bag, ignoring me. “I can carry my own bags,” I snarled.

  “Sir, I must insist I help,” the butler replied, yanking on the handle.

  “No.”

  “Sir.”

  Like two children playing tug of war, the old man and I tussled for the suitcases, bickering back and forth with an unspoken “mine, mine, mine.”

  “Harold, let the gentleman take his own suitcase,” said the clerk behind the desk.

  Harold let go, but his eyes narrowed on me as if I just insulted his entire family. Shit. I was saving his old ass from making another trip upstairs, and he looked like he wanted to short-sheet my bed later. He then grabbed Rez’s suitcase, which lay out of my reach, and glowered at me with haughtiness. Checkmate, his smugness said.

  Harold was about to get my boot up his ass when Rez clutched my arm, forcing me to follow her. Harold moved around us to the elevator, and we passed the gorgeous indoor pool and restaurant. The hotel was only three levels and I hated elevators, but I knew I had already embarrassed Rez enough. I got in, Rez standing next to me. Harold stood in front, his head only coming to my chest.

  When we arrived at the top level, he proceeded to Rez’s room. I followed. The moment he opened the door, I slipped past him and inspected the room. I’d learned over the years you could never let your guard down, no matter how safe you thought you were. My instinct was to get the lay of the land, study the room, entrances and exits.

  “Sir, your room is down the hall.” Harold placed Rez’s bag in the closet.

  “I know.” I turned on the bathroom lights, peering in. Good. No windows.

  “I am sorry, sir. Is the room not to your standards?” Harold folded his hands in front of him, staring at me evenly, but his shoulders were pinched.

  Oh…a bit snotty, Harold.

  “It is wonderful. Thank you, Harold.” Rez placed a tip in his palm. He smiled at her and after handing me my key, he withdrew from the room. The door snapped shut and laughter peeled out of Rez, her hand to her stomach as she bent forward.

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  “Wow, I thought I was going to have to put you both in a time-out.” She sat on the edge of the bed, giggling. “Five minutes in Ireland and you’ve already pissed off people and made enemies.”

  Dark Dwellers were excellent at that. “I think I can take Harold.” I grinned, stepping closer to her.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Harold looked pretty spirited.”

  “It would be like fighting a leprechaun.”

  “Have you ever fought one?” Rez wiped her eyes. It made me feel good she was back to teasing me.

  “No. Even in the Otherworld, I only ran across a few in my time.” They were sadly becoming extinct. But a real leprechaun was nothing like the commercial image at St. Patrick’s Day. They weren’t red-bearded men hiding gold at the end of rainbows and were less mischievous and more like nasty, drunk assholes.

  “Then you don’t know. He could have head-butted you in the kneecaps.” Her laughs trickled away, leaving the room silent. Suddenly I was highly aware of us being alone in the room together.

  “I’ll let you get some sleep.” I rubbed my hands together, inclining my head toward the door.

  “Breakfast at eight. The car will be dropped off at nine. We should be on the road no later than nine thirty. Arrive at Cahersiveen a little after noon, giving us time to settle in and have something to eat before we start our quest. All right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I saluted her. “Did you schedule in times when I can take a piss?” Her eyes flicked skyward. I grinned.

  A few moments past. The awkward quiet rushed back into the room again, bristling the nape of my neck. Why am I still here?

  “O-kay. I’m going.” I turned for the door right when she stood up from the bed, our bodies colliding. My arms wrapped around her as she stumbled to the side, pulling her back up. Her body pressed into mine, curving with heat against me. In her four-inch heeled boots, she could look straight into my eyes. Her mouth was only inches from mine.

  Waaaayyy too fucking close.

  “Sorry, darlin’.” I forced a playful grin on my face with a wink. No big deal. I caught her from falling. A gentlemanly thing to do.

  “Yeah. No problem.” She brushed her hand over her smooth ponytail.

  “See you in the morning. Sleep well.” I grabbed my bag and retreated from the room, stalking down the hall. I shut the door and fell against it. What was wrong with me? Since the moment Lars mentioned her coming I had been off. Okay, I had been off way before that because of issues. It was time to get back on my game. I wanted to forget my beast problems, the nightmares, the neurotic woman down the hall. The only important thing was finding the spear. That was all.

  I ran my palm roughly over my face. I needed a drink.

  Rich brown liquid swirled around my glass as I took another sip. It was the only thing in this sophisticated place that felt familiar. Dark leather stools lined the mahogany bar. A black fireplace roared to my left with soft barreled armchairs clustered in groups for people to sit and unwind.

  It wasn’t making me relaxed. My shoulders were still taut, waiting for the whiskey to take the edge off.

  “Another, sir?” the bartender, Sean, asked me. He was tall and lean with graying hair, and he prickled when I sat down. As a Dark Dweller, I was used to it. People couldn’t put a finger on it, but they sensed danger. Something instinctual they feared.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, setting down my empty glass for him to refill. It was late and only a few of us remained in the bar area. Sean might have to turn out the lights and lock up the liquor to get me to leave.

  I couldn’t get rid of the edgy feeling. I shouldn’t be surprised by it in the face of all that had happened, but usually I was the calm one. Or at least I pretended to be. Since I came back from the Light side, I had to force my easygoing attitude more and more. The loss of
the ability to shift might make me lose it completely as I was constantly tense and quick to snap. Rez and this classy joint only enflamed my already disgruntled mood.

  Sean filled my glass again, and I slammed back another gulp. The rich, musky liquor glided down my throat. A notch between my shoulders loosened as the alcohol burned through my chest.

  Better. But I still couldn’t let go of my unease. The biggest thorn in my side was the vast difference between Rez’s world and mine. She was chic. Even the way she moved and spoke screamed money and sophistication. I was seedy: bars, loose women, cheap booze, fast motorcycles, and fucking someone whose name I didn’t know against a wall in a dark alley.

  This seemed true even more now than since my time in a quaint beach town near Myrtle Beach. Cammie brought charm and sweetness into my life, but the bad boy was never far underneath no matter how much I tried to be a better man for her. Cammie had been far too good for me; Rez wasn’t even in my universe.

  Jesus, West, why do you even care? It didn’t matter if we were on the same level, Rez was so far off limits it wasn’t even funny. And I didn’t want anyone for more than a good time anyway. I tried once and failed miserably. I’d never do it again. Anyway, Rez wasn’t that kind of woman. She was someone you courted, wined and dined. Not my type, in other words.

  I snorted into my glass at the thought of me trying to court a girl. I never had to. Cammie was the closest I got to pursuing one, which intrigued me, but even she didn’t take much convincing. The connection was there.

  My fingers rolled around my glass, lost in thought, when a tickle nipped at the back of my neck and traveled along my spine. My gaze darted around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. A man and woman sat by the fireplace. Two men sipped brandy, talking, in another group of chairs. The scene was no different from when I walked into the bar. But the vibe still pulsated lightly down my shoulders. I twisted in my chair, searching. Nothing.

  I leaned back and scanned the lobby in the other room. I was just about to chalk it up to my overactive nerves and go back to drinking when I saw three men head for the stairs. They were dressed in jeans and work boots, more like me and less like the well-dressed occupants here. One was tall, bald, with a crooked nose, like he had been in so many fights it could no longer heal straight. The second one was short and stout with a reddish-brown beard. The last guy was tall and ripped. His scarred face also appeared to have been in many fights.