by HP Mallory
“Don’t make me ask you for it again,” Vander snapped, his anger visible across his red cheeks as he tightened his hold around the wheel.
“Okay,” Samantha responded. “But you have to keep yourself together, okay? Please don’t let this make you lose it or go off the deep end. You need to maintain a level head now more than ever, Knight.”
“I promise not to let it affect me,” Vander replied, his tone much softer this time. He seemed as if he almost regretted being so curt and harsh with her earlier. Samantha was Dulcie’s closest friend and Vander’s employee, making her very dear to them both. Samantha and I were quite close too, at one time. But owing to my fickle nature, I find it difficult to remain with a single woman for longer than a fortnight, at most. Hence, our intimacy no longer existed.
“Okay, call me if you need anything else,” Samantha said, “and good luck.” Then she hung up and Vander did the same. He was quiet for a few seconds and I did not push him or ask for the details because it was clear to me that he was lost in his thoughts. He began braking to slow the car down and eventually pulled off the highway, coming to a stop on the side of the road.
“I need a moment,” he said. He barely faced me before undoing his safety belt and opening the car door.
“A moment? May I inquire for what?” I asked as I shook my head to indicate I did not comprehend his meaning.
“Whatever information that witch extracted from Dulcie’s memories, she managed to capture it in what we call an ‘imprint.’ The witch telepathically transferred that imprint to Sam, which means I can now experience whatever Dulcie did.”
I immediately recalled the condition that I found Dulcie in when I last saw her. “I do not believe that is a very good idea,” I said honestly, remembering the images of her bludgeoned face and her broken fingers. I doubted very much if Vander could handle seeing those visuals, especially at that moment.
“I don’t care,” he replied tersely as he stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him. He walked to the rear of the car and leaned against the boot. I turned fully around and watched him. He opened his phone, which is where, I assumed, he could access the imprint. I supposed it was something akin to a video or movie, except that it was as seen from the perspective of whoever lived through the situation in the first place.
I was more than skeptical that Vander could tolerate the horror he was about to observe. When he returned to the driver’s seat, he could very well be a changed man. Not to mention, I was also slightly concerned that whatever the imprint revealed might also incriminate me. I still did not know the extent of my part in Dulcie’s near death experience.
Regardless of my looming anticipation and utter dread, there was nothing for me to do now. I simply had to wait for Vander to view the informative imprint and hope that his ensuing rage would not throw him into a full tailspin.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dulcie
As soon as we emerged from the whirlwind, I felt something familiar; it kept fluttering and tapping against my back. As my realization of what it was dawned on me, I sighed and then frowned, finding it difficult to restrain my annoyance. The cause of my distress? My wings, of course, which were present and duly accounted for, immediately tipping me off to our current location: the Netherworld. Thankfully, Bram’s shirt was far too big on me and it gave my wings ample room to flap. Had the shirt been any smaller, my wings would have been compromised. And that would have hurt like an SOB. Thank goodness for small favors! Considering my current predicament, I had to take them any way they came.
“Aha! She got her wings,” the troll said, reminding me of a proud parent as he stared at me with a gap-toothed smile. I still didn’t know his name but also didn’t care to. The idea of harboring any personal associations with potion-smugglers and thugs wasn’t on my bucket list.
Jax glanced at me briefly, then at my wings. Naturally, they were already freaking the F out, and Jax frowned before turning toward the busy ANC office. Even though we were definitely in the Netherworld, this besieged ANC station looked very similar to its reciprocal version on Earth. The only differences that I immediately detected were the walls, which were painted a drab grey instead of white, and the carpet, which was a boring brown. Other than that, however, everything else looked almost exactly the same, including the ANC-uniformed employees who scurried every which way, attending to their duties. One variable note, though, was the increased number of armed guards that appeared to be stationed every ten feet or so. They weren’t wearing ANC uniforms either, but were dressed purely in black: fitted trousers and matching, long-sleeved shirts with no logos or company affiliations visible. I could only imagine they must have been directly employed by the infamous Rebellion.
The shadowy soldiers stood there just as silent as the Queen’s Guard with their hands crossed over the human-made machine guns, which were strapped to their chests. I assumed most of their artillery must have been imported from Earth, although I was sure it had to be spiked with Netherworld creature-disabling bullets, such as, you guessed it, dragon’s blood.
“The driver should be picking us up outside momentarily,” Jax suddenly announced. He glanced down at his phone and whatever he read there caused his lips to tighten into a straight line as his hands fisted. He didn’t say anything more, and I didn’t inquire. Turning away, he started heading toward the sliding glass doors just as a large, black SUV that looked like a Suburban or an Escalade pulled up in front of us. I didn’t fail to notice the license plates were missing. Figured …
“Perfect timing,” Greebow commented with a large smile.
No one replied or said anything more as we walked through the doors and entered the Netherworld atmosphere. As soon as we did, I reflexively glanced up at the sky. My heart was in my throat at the prospect that I would see one of the dreadful winged predators, which were incessantly on patrol. On my first visit to the Netherworld, I was accompanied by Bram, and on that trip, I watched in horror as one of the hideous creatures swooped down and picked off a person who was standing in line just in front of us. For now, thankfully, the skies were clear of both predators and clouds.
One of the first endeavors that Knight and Caressa had accomplished after we permanently removed my father from the equation was to eliminate the marauding, winged killers altogether. My father kept the monsters around to terrorize the public and thereby staunch or hinder any would-be uprisings or seditious insurgencies. The new regime had persisted in adopting my father’s outdated ideas on how to govern the Netherworld, so I half expected the Rebellion to reintroduce the flying abominations, at least in the pillaged areas where the Rebellion had managed to overpower the ANC. But, so far as I could tell, that didn’t appear to be the case.
Jax opened the passenger door and nodded to the driver without saying anything, not even a cordial greeting. Likewise, the driver didn’t acknowledge Jax or anyone else in our party. Instead, he just sat there robotically, facing forward. Judging by the size of his shrunken head and overall tiny stature, it was easy to identify him as a gremlin. I knew it instantly and didn’t even require my fairy abilities in creature detection to help me on this one. To most people, it might have seemed odd for anyone to employ an overly small creature, such as a gremlin, for a chauffeur. Especially one such as ours, who needed special apparatuses fitted onto his legs and feet just so he could reach the gas and brake pedals. Gremlins, however, possess uncanny talent when it comes to anything mechanical. They are adept not only at breaking things, but also at fixing them. Because of that notability, most gremlins either worked with cars or machines in whatever aspect they could, but usually as drivers or mechanics. I would have bet my last dollar that this one must have owned the Escalade or Suburban or whatever the vehicle was in which we were driving.
Jax sat down beside the gremlin, and Greebow took his seat behind Jax. Then, Greebow reached inside his pocket. Pulling out his iPod, he leaned back and closed his eyes, effectively tuning out the rest of us with no apologi
es. The troll lumbered around the vehicle before opening the rear door and pushing me inside. I had to assume this was where I was relegated to sit, virtually squished between the two of them!
“Where are we headed, boss?” the troll asked. He had a little bit of trouble folding himself into his seat. This time, it was necessary for him to stoop forward, leaning over his knees, in order for the rest of his enormous body to fit. He looked so ridiculous, he reminded me of the Flinstones’ pet dinosaur, Dino.
Jax cleared his throat as he glanced back at the troll with visible irritation and then at me without any affection or comment. I wasn’t surprised to find Jax even more handsome in the Netherworld than he was on Earth. Of course, the same thing could have been said regarding Knight. When traveling in the Netherworld, its creatures were restored to their truest forms. Just as my wings became visible and functional (to a point), Lokis appeared broader, taller and slightly nobler, just as their birthright would suggest. But I saw nothing noble in Jax. He might have been created as one of Hades’ guardians, but he had strayed so far from his path now, he seemed utterly irredeemable.
“The Darkness has requested that we bring you to Headquarters immediately,” Jax said as he eyed me narrowly. Then he fell silent as he continued to stare at me expectantly.
“I’m not sure what response you’re hoping for, Jax,” I answered with a quick shrug.
“This is a great honor,” he practically spat the words out, as if I were too stupid not to have already comprehended as much on my own. “An honor that I don’t believe you deserve in the least but, in this case, I’m just the messenger.”
“Well, you might think it’s a great honor, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m still no more than a helpless prisoner.”
“The Darkness is assuming a great risk by allowing you to visit the Rebellion’s secret operations,” Jax explained. “Ordinary prisoners would be summarily denied such luxury and license.”
“It’s not like a dinner invitation to Prince Charming’s ball,” I grumbled as I shook my head.
“No, but there’s a special reason he’s extending the invitation to you,” he retorted angrily.
“I’m not interested in cheesy consolation prizes,” I snapped back at him, growing impatient and irritated with his overall demeanor. “So you can take your honor and shove it up your …”
Jax instantly leaned forward and wound his arm back before wielding his hand right across my face. He slapped me so hard that my head snapped backwards and a shooting pain bolted up my neck. Gasping for air, my breath seemed to be caught in my throat, and my heartbeat increased with violent indignation. However, since I lost so much blood already, my increased heart rate only managed to flood my mind with dizziness. I had to close my eyes and simply concentrate on regulating my respiration. Meanwhile, swirling stars continued to dance before my eyelids, threatening to overcome me.
“I warned you more than once to keep your smart-ass remarks to yourself,” Jax snarled as I opened my eyes and took a brief glimpse at my surroundings. I noticed Greebow and the troll were both staring at Jax with wide eyes, almost in disbelief, as if they were just as startled by his unprovoked response as I was. I couldn’t see the gremlin’s reaction, but he said nothing, which wasn’t unexpected since gremlins, as a rule, weren’t a very chatty race.
“All your bitch slaps and sucker punches can’t intimidate me, Jax,” I said as I ran my hand across my tender mouth. Glancing down, I didn’t flinch when I noticed the trail of blood covering my knuckles.
Jax didn’t reply to my comment but merely faced forward for the remainder of the car ride; and everyone else was silent too. That was fine by me. The thing I needed now more than anything else was a stretch of pure silence. I hated to admit, even to myself, that I could still feel the pain in the cheek that was victimized by Jax’s blow. Now it was stinging something awful. I fought back the tears that were filling up the corners of my eyes and eyelids as I concentrated on what to do next. I was fairly sure that whatever wards had been in place that disallowed me the use of my magic while we were at Bram’s chateau were now a moot point. That meant I could probably reach out to Knight …
But as soon as that idea crossed my mind, I decided against it. For two reasons. In the first place, I assumed Jax would definitely have realized that once we were outside of Bram’s chateau, I could again connect telepathically with Knight. That left me thinking that either I was still under some sort of magical block, or Jax actually wanted me to reach out to Knight. In doing so, however, I would reveal Knight’s location. And that was the basis for my second reason in deciding against it. I didn’t want to subject Knight to any further danger. So, after mentally debating and weighing the possible consequences to both of my proposed actions, I came to the final conclusion that I was better off to just sit tight. I had to rely on myself exclusively now; and I was okay with that. Why? Because I’d pretty much spent my entire adult life having to depend on my own resources. My plan now was just to sit and wait for the next opportunity to make itself known, hopefully one in which I could try to escape. It wasn’t much of a plan, but really, right now it was all I had, so I chose to go with it.
When the car stopped maybe twenty minutes later, I was surprised. We were literally out in the middle of nowhere. I knew we drove clear out of the city, which was about ten minutes ago, before we entered a residential area, which soon disappeared and consequently became nothing but a sea of trees. Then we drove up a hill. That took a good five minutes until we reached a metal gate. The gremlin pulled directly in front of the gate which immediately swung open, allowing us passage. The private driveway we followed was a long and winding road that was partially unpaved. Once we reached the top, the gremlin parked the car and turned the engine off. Glancing over Greebow (who was sound asleep and snoring like no one’s business), I peered up at the large, imposing edifice now looming over us.
It had an asymmetrical structure and was very dark in color, which made it look a lot like a haunted house on Halloween. An overabundance of extra wings and bays facing in different directions made it look like something out of a kid’s fantasy picture book. To say it was not exactly the first image that appeared in my head when I imagined the headquarters of the Rebellion was probably the understatement of the millennium.
The structure comprised three distinct stories in Victorian housing style. A massively large, wraparound porch with delicate, ornamental spindles and brackets in the era of Queen Anne accented the exterior. A colossal, round tower with a steep, pointed roof adorned one end, while an equally immense octagonal tower perched on the other. Boasting elaborate trim, scalloped shingles, gingerbread details and a steeply pitched roof with pronounced gables facing different directions, it could have passed as a mammoth dollhouse. However, the dark grey paint of the wood siding and its black trim imbued it with a much more sinister vibe.
“Wake up, Greebow!” the troll said abruptly. He reached over and shook the werewolf’s arm. Greebow sputtered and coughed before he came to and promptly wiped his sleeve across his mouth where he’d been drooling. I grimaced as I quietly hoped that none of his saliva had pooled on top of me. Werewolves really were disgusting creatures …
“Where are we?” Greebow asked in a sleep-heavy voice. When he glanced out the window, he instantly appeared to be confused.
“Headquarters!” Jax answered with audible irritation. He opened his door and stood up, taking a deep breath of the Netherworld air as he glanced around. It almost seemed like he was seeing the place for the first time.
“Headquarters?” Greebow repeated, sounding and looking more amazed than before.
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve never been here before?” I remarked with a frown of skepticism. Naturally, I figured Jax’s henchmen had to be pretty high up on the corporate ladder. But maybe I was wrong? I mean, if I were wrong, it wouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, because if I’d been in the Darkness’s position, I would never have employed such idiots.
> “Nope,” the troll answered.
“Neither have I,” Greebow said as he opened his door and stepped out. The troll shoved me toward Greebow rudely, who simply reached down and lifted me up, thereby pulling me out of the SUV. It took the troll at least a minute to unfold himself from the backseat before he plodded around the vehicle.
“Wow, fancy that,” he said in a deep voice. As the four of us started toward the front door, I noticed there were no other cars parked out in front. From what I could see, though, there seemed to be a wraparound driveway that led to the rear of the house. I could just glimpse the edge of what appeared to be a detached garage so I figured all the other cars were probably parked back there. Whoever lived, worked or did whatever here, they apparently insisted upon order.
The old, wooden stairs creaked beneath our feet. When the troll stepped on them, I half wondered if his heavy boots and weight would stomp right through the ancient boards. But, luckily for him, the floorboards held up. Upon reaching the large pair of wooden doors, Jax reached over and pushed the doorbell. A deep, mourning sound came from within the house.
“You better be on your best behavior starting right now,” Jax said underneath his breath as he addressed me. Before I could respond, he added, “And I’m saying this for your own good. The Darkness is not someone you want to test or play with. I warn you right now: he will not tolerate any of your smart-ass comments.”
“Duly noted,” I answered.
I could hear the faint clicking of heels coming from the other side of the door and, seconds later, a woman opened it. She was dressed in an outdated, white-and-black maid’s uniform, the kind that you might see in an old movie, which even included a funny, little headpiece on top of her hair.
“Come in, come in! He has been expecting you,” she said as she opened the door wider and we walked into the vestibule. The deep, dark wooden floors ran the length of the open hallway, continuing up the stairs in front of us along with both of the rooms on either side of us. The ceiling extended all the way up to the third floor in the entry and, as such, was commendably tall. An immense chandelier also hung above us, appointed with what had to be at least one hundred lightbulbs, each shaped like a candle.
