by HP Mallory
I didn’t reply but simply nodded as I dropped my arms from covering my chest and started across the room. Antoine held the door open even wider, and once I reached the threshold, he began walking down the hallway ahead of me. When we reached the staircase, he glanced behind him, ostensibly to make sure I was still there.
“How are you feeling, madam?”
“I’m fine,” I answered, even though there were butterflies in my stomach and I was growing anxious over the prospect of dining with the Darkness. I could only wonder if he planned to appear in his true form or would simply assume the body of one of his employees again.
At the base of the staircase, I glanced into the library and saw Jax sitting in the same chair he’d been occupying when we first arrived. I couldn’t see the other side of the room so I didn’t know if the troll and the werewolf were still there, but I figured they probably were. As soon as Jax saw me, he eyed me up and down, from head to toe, and an expression of surprise twinkled in his eyes, as if he weren’t expecting to see me dressed this way. A moment later, the expression disappeared and his eyes narrowed as bitter anger polluted his features.
“Come, madam,” Antoine said as he led me down an adjoining hallway. I was only too happy to oblige him, anxious to get as far away from Jax as possible.
When we reached the end of the corridor, Antoine opened the wide, double doors, and I was nearly overwhelmed by the huge expanse of a dining room. The floors were a rich, dark mahogany to match the wood paneling that ran halfway up the walls and surrounded the entire room. The ceiling had to be no less than twenty feet high. In the center of the room was a sprawling, dark wood dining table with sixteen high-backed matching chairs surrounding it. The feast on the table was a spread that would have made any king jealous.
“Ms. O’Neil.”
I was greeted by a man who sat at the head of the table on the far end. As soon as he saw me, he stood up with a warm smile. He was dressed in the same fashion as Antoine: an exotic robe with a turban, a bright red sash and moccasin-type shoes. He wasn’t quite as good looking as Antoine but still handsome all the same. And he appeared to be pretty young, which surprised me because I’d figured the Darkness would have been older.
“Are you the Darkness?” I asked as I studied him. Even though he smiled at me in a friendly sort of way, I couldn’t help the shivers that raced up my spine as if someone had just walked over my grave. The Darkness made me uncomfortable. So far, he was just too welcoming and too nice, especially considering I was obviously his enemy. And in my experience, you can never trust people who act like that.
“Yes and no,” he answered with a smirk. His skin was much lighter than Antoine’s. Judging by his accent, he sounded English, or maybe he was Australian. He also appeared somewhat older than Antoine, even if he wasn’t as old as I’d assumed. Regardless, there were deep lines that creased his forehead and crows’ feet around his eyes.
“I’m talking to the Darkness, but that’s not your real body,” I answered for him, in an irritated and dry manner.
He smiled warmly. “Yes, you do catch on rather quickly.” Then he faced Antoine and said, “Leave us, please.” Antoine didn’t verbally respond but simply nodded before bowing low and turning on his heel while starting for the door. I noticed his footfalls made no sound on the hardwood floors, something which struck me as very odd. Meanwhile, the stranger with whom I was dining pulled out the chair closest to him, holding his arm out in a gallant and over-the-top gesture that I should sit. Figuring there was no reason not to, I did as he beckoned me and patiently waited for him to speak.
“I trust your health has been returned to you?” he began.
“Yes, it has,” I answered quickly. “Although I’ll probably lose my mind if one more person asks me that.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I apologize for my concern and that of the others, madam, but everyone here was very much involved in your successful recuperation.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Spare me the all this unnecessary superficiality,” I started as I shook my head. “But let’s be straight, eh? We both know that no one here gives a damn about me, much less my health and continued safety.”
The man shook his head vehemently. “That is where you are so wrong,” he said. “You are a very important consideration to all of us and, especially, to our mission.”
“And that’s the sticking point,” I said as I shook my head in turn. “I still fail to understand how any ANC officer can be so important to you or your bottom line.”
The man nodded and appeared somewhat pensive. “Let us save that discussion until after you have feasted and your belly is full,” he said as he motioned toward the sumptuous display of edibles set before me.
I couldn’t stop my eyes from roving over the glazed ham, roasted turkey, vegetable side dishes of every sort, baskets full of various breads, a cutting board overflowing with different cheeses and two trays brimming over with exotic fruits. And that was just the food! On the far end of the table were eleven large pitchers filled with various liquids of different colors. My stomach started to growl at the same time that my mouth started salivating.
The man stood up and approached the end of the table where he reached for a crystal goblet. Running his free hand above the various pitchers, he asked, “Do you prefer wine, ale, beer, or cider?”
If I never needed a glass of wine before, I definitely needed one now. “Wine, please,” I answered.
“Red or white?”
“Red,” I replied as my stomach continued to growl and I felt the blush of my embarrassment burning my cheeks.
“Cabernet, merlot, pinot noir, or Syrah?” the man asked.
“I don’t care,” I said with a shrug. “Surprise me.”
“Very well, I shall pour for you my favorite,” he answered before reaching for a decanter and pouring me a glass of the deep red fluid. When he returned, he handed the glass to me and I accepted it without saying thank you. Table manners didn’t come into play when you were being held as someone’s prisoner …
“Please, serve yourself,” he said as he motioned to the sumptuous feast before me.
I didn’t respond with words, but I did take him up on his offer. Reaching across the table to pile some slices of turkey on my plate, I helped myself to a sampling of each of the veggies and a piece of pretzel bread, which also happened to be my favorite type of bread and an enduring weakness of mine. When I sat back down, he raised his eyebrows as he observed the heaping piles of food on my plate.
I shrugged. “Might as well load up since this will no doubt be my last supper, right?” I quipped with a frown.
“That all depends on you,” he answered as he watched me. He tapped his long, manicured fingers rhythmically against the wood of the table. “Speaking of surprises,” he began, obviously changing the subject. I figured he was referring to my previous remark about the wine. “I imagine our conversation this afternoon will probably surprise you.”
“Really? Why is that?” I asked as I forked a piece of turkey and added a carrot before placing it into my mouth. At the glorious taste, my taste buds nearly exploded off my tongue as my mouth began salivating even more.
He shrugged. “I have information for you concerning your past.”
“My past?” I repeated and my eyebrows rose higher, aiming for the ceiling. The lump of food got stuck in my parched throat, so I reached for the glass of wine to wash it down. As soon as I tasted the potent, full-bodied flavor of the wine, I guessed he chose a Syrah. I took another sip before returning my attention to my plate, where I speared another generous piece of turkey. This time, however, I paired it with a bite of the pretzel bread, slathered in butter, of course.
“Yes, I know more about you than you are probably aware,” he said.
I shelved that subject for a moment because something much more pressing suddenly occurred to me. “Why aren’t you eating?” I asked as a bolt of shock traveled up my spine, and I immediately worried tha
t the food was poisoned. I dropped my fork, which landed on the metal plate and made quite the racket.
The man laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry. The food isn’t poisoned,” he stated.
I frowned at him but made no motion of picking up my fork again. “You can read my mind?”
“No, but your face is quite transparent. You’re about as easy to read as an open book.” Then he stopped laughing although his smile remained. “Had I wanted you dead, I could have accomplished that somewhat easy task a long time ago,” he continued. “So cease your worry over my motives and simply try to enjoy your meal.”
I glanced down at the mostly uneaten food on my plate and considered his words for a few moments. I guessed he was being honest, because his explanation made sense to me. So I picked up my fork and resumed the ritual of stuffing my face.
“And to answer your question as to why I am not eating, it is simply because I am not hungry,” he said as he studied me with a visibly piqued interest and curiosity. “Surely the same cannot be said for you.” His eyes narrowed as he further studied me. “Was starvation another item on the list of grievances you have accumulated against Rochefort?”
“Maybe not starvation, exactly, but death by boring sandwiches definitely ranks in there somewhere,” I answered.
“Yes, well, Rochefort and I will be having a conversation regarding his treatment of you very soon,” he replied. Maybe it was the way he said the words or the words themselves, but a shiver raced up and down my spine. I wasn’t sure why, but I had an idea that Jax wouldn’t fare very well in any encounters with the Darkness. And that was fine by me. Whatever Jax had coming to him, he deserved it and then some.
I took another sip of my wine as soon as I finished my bite and faced the man again. “So how do you know so much about my past?”
“I have been alive for a very long time,” he calmly replied.
“Interesting,” I said, as I wondered what that could possibly mean. Many creatures in the Netherworld enjoyed very long lives and some even attained immortality. So it wasn’t like this breaking news narrowed down his genus very much. And I couldn’t say I was honestly even interested in what type of creature he was; at the moment, anyway. Not when more important subjects still loomed over my head—namely the fact that I still couldn’t quite get past he knew privileged information about me. “How is it possible that you would know anything about me or my past when I have no idea who in the world you are?” I demanded.
He smiled a secretive and knowing grin. “Finish your glass of wine, and I will enlighten you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dulcie
I downed my glass of Syrah and watched the strange man stand up and reach for the decanter to pour me another. He was quiet as he performed this task and so was I; we both just stared at the red liquid as it streamed from the crystal carafe and filled my glass. When he finished, I brought the glass to my lips and took a small sip, watching the man return the carafe to its rightful place before resuming his seat at the head of the table again.
“Okay, so how do you know anything about me?” I asked as I speared a few pieces of broccoli on my fork and relished the flavor before swallowing the mouthful down with another gulp of wine. “And what exactly do you know?”
“I shall address your first question,” he calmly answered as he leaned back into the uncomfortable chair and exhaled a long sigh. “I was well acquainted with your father,” he began, eyeing me narrowly, as if he were expecting some kind of reaction from me. I had no immediate response.
I began nodding eventually because I wasn’t that surprised to hear about it. Since the Darkness was involved in the illegal potions industry, and ranked pretty high up on the nefarious hierarchy, it made perfect sense that he would have known my father.
“Before you start telling me all the anecdotes and your fond remembrances of my father, you should know that I hold him in the lowest esteem possible,” I cautioned him. Taking another swig of my wine, I suddenly realized I was starting to feel it. Notwithstanding, I decided if I got a little bit buzzed it wouldn’t matter too much. It seemed crystal clear to me that the Darkness wasn’t planning to hurt me or kill me … at least, not yet. He positively wanted something from me, and my next mission was to find out what that something was. As far as the wine was concerned, I doubted that it would affect my memory or my ability to pay attention to important facts but, even so, I decided to make this glass my last for the night.
“I assumed as much, in light of the fact that you were the one who killed him,” he replied, and an amused smile appeared on his broad lips.
“So what? Is that common knowledge down here in the Netherworld?” I asked as I took another bite of my pretzel bread.
“I don’t know how common that knowledge is among the citizens who reside here, but everyone in the potions rings is well aware of what happened, and I imagine everyone at the ANC knows about it, obviously.”
I cocked my head to the side and softly sighed as the ugly memories suddenly infiltrated my head. Even though my father was less than the scum of the earth, it still wasn’t easy for me to accept the blame in being the one to kill him. But c’est la vie. What I did was over and done. There was no point in my looking back now, and absolutely no place for regret or guilt.
“I suppose you probably consider my father some kind of hero or maybe even a martyr?” I asked before swallowing another sip of my wine. Ordinarily, I would have become a bit uncomfortable when being the only one eating and drinking; but in this unique instance, I didn’t give a shit. That was mostly because I was starving, but not entirely. The real reason was: I didn’t give a rat’s ass what the Darkness thought of me.
“I would never have called your father a hero, no,” he replied with a thoughtful expression. “From what I can gather, you don’t know very much about your father, do you?”
I shook my head. “The very first time I met him was right before I killed him, and that’s fine by me. As far as I’m concerned, my father totally disgraced the O’Neil name for a long time to come.”
The man nodded his agreement as he began drumming his fingers on top of the wood table. “As I recall, your mother fled the Netherworld and relocated on Earth while you were still in the womb?”
I nodded as I put the piece of bread back on my plate and gave him my undivided attention. “You seem to know a lot about me; which, I have to admit, is really unsettling. Especially seeing as how I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what you really look like; I don’t even know your true name,” I complained before pushing the half-full glass of wine away. Now it was starting to give me a headache. Not only that, but I noticed a hollow ringing in my ears and a numbness that was beginning to disable my fingers. I suspected I must have drunk too much and probably too quickly. The tiny amount of food in my stomach wasn’t doing anything to absorb the alcohol in my bloodstream either.
“I am sorry that you find yourself at a temporary disadvantage.”
“No, you’re not,” I retorted as I shook my head and faux-laughed.
“As regards the information I know regarding your past,” he continued, without taking any offense to my rude statement. His gaze fell down to my glass of wine before he brought it back to my face. “Are you feeling well? You look a bit peaked.”
“I think I drank too much, and I know I didn’t eat enough,” I answered with a shrug. Taking a deep breath, I had to blink a few times because my vision was slowly starting to blur. Not only that, but my heart was beginning to race and my palms were feeling clammy. A second or so later, beads of perspiration broke out along my forehead and down the small of my back. That was when it occurred to me that what was happening now was no ordinary reaction to wine, toxic tannins or not. When my heartbeat increased, a new wave of anxiety overtook me and my clear thinking. I pushed away from the table and tried to stand up, but I nearly fell over. My feet suddenly felt as if they were miles away from the rest of my body. I had to slam both o
f my palms against the tabletop as I struggled to maintain my balance.
“My dear,” the man started to say as he stood up with an alarmed expression riding all over his face. I snapped my head to look at him and narrowed my eyes, while trying to focus on both of his heads.
“You … d-d-drugged me,” I said, but my words came out in an unintelligible slur.
He smiled at me in a patronizing way. “Please, take your seat and calm down. It will do you no good at all to try to resist. In a few seconds, you won’t be able to control your limbs anymore.”
He pushed his chair away when I made no motion to sit. In the blink of an eye, he was right beside me, wrapping his arms around me. I didn’t even see him move! I couldn’t take any time to ponder that topic, because he escorted me over to a settee that was placed in front of an enormous stone fireplace in the farthest corner of the room. I tried to push away from him to see if I could stand on my own, but he was absolutely correct, my legs were so wobbly, if he hadn’t been holding me up, they would have collapsed like an unsteady stack of bricks.
“What did you use? To drug … me with?” I demanded before castigating myself. I should never have been so naïve and trusting. It was entirely my own fault that I now found myself mired in this predicament. That awful truth consumed me like a burning conflagration of absolute ire, and it was aimed solely at me.
“It is innocuous. I gave you nothing that will have any long-term implications,” he reassured me. “So calm down and do not upset yourself unnecessarily. In barely an hour or thereabouts, the potion will pass through your system and you will be restored to former yourself.”
“But … What … Is it?”
“Draught of the living death,” he answered without pause. “As I told you, it was nothing to worry over. Try to settle down and relax. The potion will not harm you, as you are well aware.”
