by Kristie Cook
“Oh, I travel here and there,” he replies noncommittally with a shrug. After a moment he continues, “And I choose to come back because I feel obligated to.”
I notice an onyx pendant dangling around his neck. At least his amulet looks a little more ominous and manly than Brian’s. Of course, anything is scarier than purple. Except for maybe pink. He doesn’t say anything else. I am burning with curiosity, so even though I want to bite my tongue, I continue talking anyway.
“Why are you obligated?”
“The Dark Elves, well, they sorta think of me as their Prince.”
“You’re a Prince?” I ask, a little surprised that Dugan would have the Prince doing his dirty work.
He laughs. “No, not exactly. I said they think of me as their Prince.”
“Why?”
“Oh, so you expect me to tell you my life story, but you won’t divulge any details of your own life to me?” He smirks. “That isn’t how relationships work, you know. I give a little, you give a little. It’s only fair.”
If I didn’t know better, I would think this guy was seriously trying to flirt with me. The idea is preposterous. After all, he is in charge of guarding me in this dark dungeon. He is helping them to keep me imprisoned. That is the only relationship we have: Guard and Prisoner. Anger flares inside me and I force myself not to respond.
I don’t know exactly how he interprets my silence, but it doesn’t seem to discourage him. He sits and stares at me with an inquisitive twinkle in his eyes. His eyes are actually beautiful. They are a startling shade of green, brighter than an emerald. That color can’t possibly be natural. Without realizing it, I stare right back at him trying to figure out what exactly shade of green would accurately describe his eyes, when suddenly he breaks away from our staring match and looks towards the door.
“Fine. If you must know, he sorta raised me,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.
That certainly broke me of my trance. Imagining Dugan as anyone’s dad is, quite frankly, frightening.
“What do you mean, he ’raised’ you?” I ask him. “He doesn’t exactly seem the parental type.”
He laughs without humor. “You think?”
I smile hesitantly, but he doesn’t even notice. He is oblivious to me now, caught up in old memories.
“I was six. I had begged my parents to take me camping for weeks. All my friends were spending their summer vacations back-packing and camping, and for some reason my parents kept making excuses not to. I spent the entire summer throwing fits over it,” he laughs dryly. “Finally, right before school started, they told me we were going. They found a campground a few hours from our home and we were going to spend the weekend there.”
I suddenly feel as though I am experiencing dÉjÀ vu, but I can’t quite place the memory before he continues.
“I don’t remember what happened. I must have blocked out the details or something, but I remember seeing their dead bodies strewn across the campsite. I was just sitting there staring at their lifeless bodies one second, and the next moment, I was here. Dugan has taken care of me ever since. Well, he has at least ordered others to care for me. It’s not like he was a ’hands-on dad’ or anything. But I have always been treated like the Prince of the kingdom, so, of course, I have no complaints.” He shrugs offhandedly as if witnessing his parents’ death and then being raised in the Underworld by a bunch of evil Dark Elves was completely normal.
“And the humans who are held hostage down here and tortured, you’re okay with bearing witness to these atrocities just because the Dark Elves have always treated you well?” I stand up and begin pacing around the cell, completely appalled. Raised by the DÖkkÁ lfar or not, surely he couldn’t just ignore what was happening down here. I had only been here for a day, and I could already tell that the screams filtering in from down the hall would haunt me the rest of my life.
Perhaps he has had enough of our conversation. He is silent for a few minutes before casually getting up off the cot and making his way toward the metal bar door. As he passes by me, he leans in closely and whispers something so quietly I barely make out the words he is saying. I think he says, “I don’t have a choice.”
I don’t turn around to watch him exiting the cell, but I whisper just loud enough for him to hear.
“You always have a choice.”
Jacoby sits outside my cell for the rest of the morning in complete silence. With nothing else to distract me, I decide to practice my elemental magic on the sly, hoping he doesn’t catch on to what I am doing. I focus all my concentration on the torches lining the walls outside my cell, attempting to command their flames to grow and shrink repetitively at my telepathic will. Sort of like lifting weights with my mind. My theory being that the more reps I do, the stronger I will become. I am probably full of crap, but it keeps me busy so I just go with it.
Apparently, I’m not stealthy enough.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says finally breaking the silence.
I wasn’t actually doing anything, but not for lack of trying.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I widen my eyes and try to look innocent. Just in case he is on to me.
“I know you are using magic. It’s not very strong and I can’t tell what element you are trying to manipulate, but I know you are trying.” He enters my cell and looks around expectantly before catching sight of the torches. “I’m assuming Fire?”
“How do you know what you think you know?” I ask him cryptically. That earns a smirk from him.
“Your aura. It changes. When you are pacing around it is a brownish color with pops of sulfur, which means you are upset and angry. Although, I would be able to tell that just from your face, even if I couldn’t see your aura.”
He gives me that big toothy grin of his, as though he finds himself to be quite amusing.
I have a peculiar desire to stick my tongue out at him, but I restrain myself.
“When someone uses magic, it alters the color of their aura. Yours changes to goldish-orange,” he continues with a mischievous smile, leading me to believe that he is fully aware that he is irritating me, and that he enjoys it.
“You can see auras?” Despite my irritation, he has piqued my curiosity. Again. I kind of wish he would stop doing that. I do not want to be friendly with this guy, but he keeps finding ways to catch my attention. I can’t seem to stop myself from speaking to him.
“But of course,” he says nonchalantly.
“What are you?”
He laughs at that, but really, I feel it’s a fair question.
“I am just your everyday, average run-of-the-mill Joe,” he smirks. “Who just happens to have an extra-special super sixth sense.”
“You are annoying. Do you know that?”
He laughs again.
“So what kind of magic were you trying to tap into? I’ve been watching you this whole time. Whatever you were doing, you were obviously concentrating really hard,” he says, as his eyes sparkle with amusement.
Nosy, over-observant, aura-seeing, arrogant butthead.
“I’m not actually doing anything. But I was trying to.” I point to the torch on the wall behind him. “I was trying to manipulate Fire. I don’t know what good it will do. I haven’t been able to control any of the elements yet. It just feels better than sitting here and doing nothing,” I admit with a shrug.
He tilts his head to the side and stares at me curiously for a while. I start to feel a little self-conscious. I can’t really concentrate on practicing anymore with him watching me, so I settle for twirling my hair to keep my hand busy.
Jacoby unexpectedly reaches out and pulls my hand away from my hair. I instinctively try to jerk away but he is much stronger than me. He gives my hand a quick squeeze and says, “I never could manipulate any of the elements either.”
I gasp and jerk my hand away when I realize he did not speak those words out loud.
He just freaking talked to me inside my head!
&
nbsp; It is by far, the strangest thing that has happened to me since I found out I was part elf—and that’s saying something.
“How did you do that?”
“I told you. Super special sixth sense,” he smirks.
“You aren’t just a regular Joe are you?” I accuse.
“No, no I’m not. But shh, it can be our little secret.” He gives me a conspiratorial wink.
“Seriously. What are you?” I wonder out loud again. I know he isn’t a Dark Elf. All the ones I have seen have looked like Dugan. Scary, ashen-colored, almost-human-but-not-quite looking creatures, with eyes as black as night. Jacoby, in all his good-looking glory, could not possibly be a Dark Elf.
Then it hits me. Of course.
Duh, Mia. You don’t have pointy ears either, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t part elf...
“I think the more polite question would be ’who are you’, don’t you think?”
“Fine. Who are you? But more importantly, who were your parents?” I realize that it might be a touchy subject for him, and I feel guilty for being so insensitive. Which is actually kind of funny, because why should I even care? He is with the bad guys.
“I am just someone who wants to be your friend,” he replies. His expression softens and I almost believe him. But then I remind myself, yet again, that he is helping Dugan keep me hostage.
“Friends don’t let friends get kidnapped by evil Dark Elves and then keep guard of the cell,” I point out.
“Oh, I think we will be great friends.”
I roll my eyes. A part of me, a very small part of me, agrees that we probably could be friends under different circumstances. An even smaller part of me wants to be friends with Jacoby. But the more rational part of me is telling those other parts to shut up.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I retort.
Jacoby’s smile falters as we hear approaching footsteps. A Dark Elf comes into view flanked by Brian and another menacing looking human.
“His Majesty has ordered me to escort you to his throne room for a little chat,” the Dark Elf sneers at me.
Brian enters the cell and roughly grabs hold of my arm.
“Ow! You don’t have to squeeze me so hard! It’s not like I’m not going anywhere!” I yell at him. But instead of loosening his grip, he strengthens his hold causing me to wince in pain. I’m sure I’ll have bruises on my arm tomorrow.
But I have a feeling a few bruises are the least of my troubles right now.
This castle is very different than my father’s. Alberico’s is open and light while Dugan’s is dark and damp. When I heard of the Underworld, I expected it to be just that: underground. I expected it to consist of caves and dirt and nothing else. But as we ascend from the gray stone tunnel that leads up from the dungeon, I realize that it is really nothing like I expected. It’s actually a real castle. There are even windows. I’m suddenly anxious to look out of one to see what this strange and scary world looks like.
I barely catch a glimpse of the dark purple-hued sky before Brian pushes me forward. We turn down a hall and the gothic architecture and decor reminds of Dracula’s castle. I half expect there to be spider webs draped artistically across the ceiling.
We approach a room that has two rather large statues of gargoyles on either side of a heavy black door. He knocks twice then opens it. Inside there is a large iron chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling lit up with at least a hundred candles. It casts an eerie shadow on the walls. We walk across the room to where Dugan sits upon a throne made of black marble. A handful of Dark Elves stand nearby watching us as we draw closer to where Dugan is waiting for me. They are dressed in similar style to the Light Elves but more ragged and the tones are darker just like everything else I’ve seen so far. Black, browns, and shades of charcoal.
“Well, my lovely niece, have you decided to play nice and help us break the curse yet, or are we going to have to take matters into our own hands?”
His voice makes my skin crawl. It is so inhuman. So cold. One of the Dark Elves that stands beside him looks at me and licks his lips grotesquely like I am a tasty treat. I taste the bile forming in my mouth.
“I told you I don’t know how. And even if I did, there is absolutely no way I would help you. I’d rather die.”
A little dramatic perhaps, but 100% true.
“I am sure we will both get what we want.” The glint in Dugan’s eyes is pure evil, which only confirms what I have already suspected; I will not escape alive. I am more afraid now than I have ever been in my entire life. “You have two more days to change your mind. That is it.”
“But I—,” I start but he holds up a hand to silence me.
“If you don’t willingly give me the answers I seek, I will forcibly take them from you, is that clear?”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
“Good. Brian, take her away,” he dismisses me with a wave of his hand.
When we get back to my cell, Brian shoves me in forcibly causing me to fall to my knees before he slams the bar door unceremoniously.
Chapter Thirteen
When I wake up and push myself into a sitting position on the cot, I try to tell myself that I’m not looking for Jacoby, but the disappointment I feel when I see Brian sitting guard once again makes it hard to deny it. I don’t know why I should care which one is guarding me. I should hate them both equally.
“Good morning,” Brian says brightly like it really is a good morning. Unfortunately for me, my definition of a good morning is not waking up and realizing that my life has turned into a nightmare. He unlocks my cell and brings in a plate of oatmeal and toast that he sets down beside me.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask him.
“Do I really need a reason?” he asks as he turns to go.
“I just don’t understand. I was always nice to you! Why are you doing this to me?”
“Ha! Don’t pretend that you were ever really nice to me. You looked down on me with disgust! Like I was the dirt beneath your feet. The scum of the world.”
“You are scum! You are a pathetic excuse for a human being!” I spit at him unable to control my temper.
Brian stalks over to me and grabs a fist full of my hair pulling me off the cot. I claw at his hands and kick as hard as I can to try to make him drop me.
“Let me go!” I shriek, my head burning where he has ripped my hair out by the roots.
He throws me across the room and my back slams against the stone wall as I fall to the ground in a battered heap.
Jacoby appears out of nowhere, and with one lightning fast, hard punch to the face, Brian is laid out flat on his back.
“What’s your problem?” Brian’s voice is muffled underneath his hand that is trying to stop the blood from gushing out of his nose. Dark purple bruises are already visible beneath both of his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing to her?” Jacoby demands.
“Just showing her her place. What does it matter to you?”
“She’s a girl! If you know what’s good for you, you will get your sorry ass out of here because next time I can assure you, the pain I inflict on you will be nothing compared to this.”
“I’m reporting this to Dugan.”
“Be my guest. But remember your place. You’re a mere human. I’m Dugan’s heir.”
Brian glares at Jacoby then turns to me.
“Don’t let his small act of chivalry fool you. There is a reason he is Dugan’s favorite little pet.” He spits out a mouth full of blood before leaving.
As soon as he’s gone, Jacoby rushes over to me. He grabs me by the shoulders and looks down at me, his face filled with worry. Due to our sudden closeness I catch a whiff of his heady scent. It’s woodsy and kind of rustic as though he spent all day hanging around a fire pit or something. It reminds me of autumn back home, and I’m struck with a sudden sense of nostalgia.
“Are you okay?” He sounds so sincere it startles me.
“Yeah,”
I nod weakly. My scalp feels like it’s on fire, I reach up and touch it realizing I am missing a rather large chunk of my hair. A wave of nausea comes over me. My back is throbbing, but nothing feels broken. It could’ve been much worse. “Thank you for stopping him.”
“God, I can’t believe he did that to you. I hate that I can’t be the one to guard you 24/7. I’ll try to figure something out. I won’t let him hurt you again.”
“Why? I mean, why do you care whether he hurts me or not?”
“Nobody that shines as bright as you should ever feel any pain.”
“I don’t think anybody deserves to feel any pain,” I tell him pointedly.
A shadow crosses Jacoby’s face.
“What are you going to do?” Jacoby asks me.
“About what?”
“About the curse?”
“I don’t know,” I answer quietly. “The prophecy only says that I’m supposed to break the curse, it doesn’t say how."
“You better figure it out.”
“What?” I gasp. I don’t know why I am so shocked. Of course he would want me to break the curse. His loyalty obviously lies with Dugan. Just because he has been somewhat pleasant to me does not make him my friend. “Even if I did know what to do, I already told you guys: I’m not doing it.”
I’m so angry at myself for letting my guard down around this guy. How could I be so stupid?
“Mia,” he says, almost imploringly. I’m determined to just ignore him, but he’s not going to let me. He walks over to me and reaches for my hand. The naturalness of his touch sends an electric current through my body. Shocked, I look up at him. He gently caresses my hand with his thumb and the gesture feels oddly natural, like a habit that is so ingrained you don’t even realize you are doing it. I don’t know what to think. I freeze, unable to jerk away from him. Unable to do anything but stand there, staring into his green eyes. Dazed and confused.
“I didn’t mean that the way you think,” he says quietly. “You need to figure out how you are supposed to break the curse. And then do everything you can to avoid it.”
