Sanctum (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1)

by Fine, Sarah

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  “They’re going to kill me, too, but Malachi will torture me first. That’s what he always does, girl.”

  “Please call me Lela.”

  “Lela. I am Sil.”

  “Why are they keeping you here?” I stared into his eyes, wondering if he was just as innocent as I was.

  “I am a Mazikin.”

  “That’s what they thought I was, but nobody has told me what Mazikin are. Will you?”

  Sil laughed, a rasping, high-pitched noise. “Come have a look, then.” His eyes disappeared, leaving a peephole. I put my face to it. He stood back in his cell, looking exactly like…a Japanese businessman. Complete with suit and tie. And muzzle and mittens. I was reminded of the diverse group that had attacked Malachi in the street. He’d referred to them as Mazikin, too.

  “Um, you look like everyone else here.”

  He stroked his mittens down his wiry physique, over his rumpled, dirty business attire. “Because we are like everyone else. But we are going to escape.”

  “Malachi said Mazikin have killed five Guards.”

  Sil nodded. “The Guards, they do not understand us. We come from a terrible place and we have ended up in a terrible place. It is hell, girl. All we want is to be free of it. But the Captain and his Guards do not think the Mazikin are worthy of happiness.” He sniffled, and his face crumpled up, like he was trying not to cry again. “They do horrible things to us. They kill us for good. Forever.” He raised his head and looked at me. His eyes were dark, peering at me from over the ridge of his muzzle. “We try to fight back. Sometimes we win. But they are merciless.”

  So “Mazikin” was like a resistance movement. That made sense as I remembered Malachi’s fight with Ibram and the others. I looked Sil up and down. He seemed completely harmless. And the Guards, with their armor and weapons…it didn’t seem fair. I glanced back at Lutfi, slumped on the table, scimitar at his side. I shivered. I think Sil noticed. “Girl. Lela. I have to get out of here. If you help me, I’ll get you out, too.”

  Escape. That sounded good. I would disappear into the city. I would know how to avoid the Guards from now on. I would be much more careful. I would find Nadia and prove Malachi wrong.

  “Count me in, but it has to be right now. He’s coming back for me.”

  “Do you think you could unfasten my mitts?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied, heart speeding. I watched Lutfi closely, but he seemed unconscious and was still snoring loudly. My hand was narrow enough to fit through the hole, and Sil held up his arm. He whispered instructions as my fingers worked the buckles. After several minutes, Sil’s hand was free, and he unfastened his other mitt. Hands unfettered, he unbuckled his muzzle, ripping it off his face in a near-frantic motion.

  He threw his head back and took a deep, relieved breath. “Thank you.”

  He proceeded to dismantle the muzzle with amazing efficiency and soon had several pieces of metal in front of him. “I think I was an engineer, before,” he commented as he worked, which struck me as a strange statement. Did people forget their lives if they were here long enough? His gaze flicked back to mine. “Do you think you could get the Guard out of the room?”

  “Are you serious?”

  Sil nodded emphatically. “Yes. You aren’t muzzled. You aren’t the same kind of prisoner I am. And you are attractive to them. They were talking about it earlier.” Ew, gross. “And you are smaller than I am. He will not consider you a threat. Tell him you have to go to the bathroom. The Guards have one down the hall.”

  This already sounded like a very bad plan, but desperation drove me forward. “What are you going to do?”

  He smiled as he examined the various parts of his disassembled muzzle. “You’ll see. Don’t worry. No one will get hurt, and we’ll get out quickly. Give me a moment.”

  I watched as he repositioned the muzzle and mittens. He obviously wanted Lutfi to believe they were still fastened. Sil lay down on his bench. “Now.”

  I cleared my throat. Here goes. “Um, Lutfi?”

  Lutfi jerked to attention with a grunt. “Eh?”

  “I am so sorry to wake you,” I said in my most helpless voice. “It’s just…um, there’s no toilet in this cell…and I need to go.”

  “Oh.” The blush on his bulbous cheeks made him instantly less intimidating. “Certainly. Promise you won’t try anything tricky? Don’t break my nose or anything, little one.” He laughed to himself, as if the prospect was ludicrous.

  He took the ring of keys from its peg on the wall and unlocked my cell. He stepped back and pulled the door open, fastening the keys to his belt. I walked in front of him, his enormous, heavy palm resting on my shoulder. He was much gentler than Amid.

  Through the middle door, to the right, then the left, down a stone hallway, the third door on the left. This place was a freaking maze, just like the rest of the city. The gray, musty bathroom contained a leaky sink and an extraordinarily large toilet. You had to pull some sort of chain to get it to flush.

  I didn’t need to go, though. Not hungry, not thirsty, so…I sat in the dingy chamber, staring at the strange assortment of porcelain figurines that lined the walls. Most of them were baby animals.

  Lutfi courteously gave me privacy. I took my time, wanting to give Sil as much opportunity as possible to do whatever he was going to do. To occupy myself, I ripped my pants at the waist and tied the two frayed edges tightly together, making it far less likely that they would pool around my feet as I tried to flee. My heart pounded so frantically I was sure it was going to crack my newly healed ribs.

  Finally, Lutfi knocked on the door. “Um, how are you doing in there?”

  “I’m almost finished, thank you!” I dared to wait another minute and then emerged. His face was bright pink as he directed me back to the cell room. I walked as slowly as possible, praying he couldn’t hear the blasts of my breath or the jackhammering of my heart.

  “I hear you’re going to the Sanctum to see the Judge in a few hours,” he said. “The Captain says you’ll get out. I’m glad for you, little one. You’ll love it in the Countryside.”

  “Have you been there?” I hoped I sounded friendly rather than terrified.

  “Ah, no.” His guttural voice was wistful. “We’re not allowed to go out there. We were created to guard the Shadowlands, and so we do until we die. But I can see it beyond the walls. Someday I will go. Not yet, though.”

  He winked as he pushed open the door of the cell room and put an arm out to guide me through. I caught a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye. Lutfi gasped and shoved me away from him.

  “Run,” he grunted as I hit the floor.

  I rolled just in time to see Sil—who had pulled Lutfi’s scimitar free while the Guard’s hands were occupied—use the weapon with merciless efficiency. Lutfi fell to the floor without a sound. His head landed a few feet away, his amethyst eyes condemning me.

  Sil turned to me and smiled. “Picked the lock,” he said proudly, still holding the bloody sword. I tried to tamp down my certainty that I’d just made a terrible mistake while Sil removed Lutfi’s sword belt and fastened it around his own waist, cinching it tight. He sheathed the scimitar and came toward me, his hand outstretched. His fingernails were disturbingly long and pointed. I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before. “Let’s go.”

  “Um…I think I’ll just go on my own—”

  “No, we can use you. You’re perfect.” His fingers curled around my upper arm, and he yanked me up. I was too shocked to fight back. I couldn’t stop staring at Lutfi’s slack face. I swear I could smell the rusty tang of his blood.

  Sil tugged me roughly through the door. He stopped cold as a Guard entered the hallway from a room a few doors down.

  It was Malachi.

  He was wearing his leather armor and looked just as he had the first time I saw him through the eyes of my terrified friend. Only taller. More frightening. More beautiful. His eyes were on his shoulder as he
fiddled with a buckle on his breastplate. His mouth twisted up at one corner in a secret smile. In the flash of a second before he saw us, I had time to wonder what thoughts could have put such a whimsical look on his serious face.

  The smile disappeared, replaced by a grim line.

  Sil and Malachi stared at each other, and then both moved simultaneously. Malachi reached for his knives, and Sil pulled me in front of him, shielding himself. Sil’s hand went around my neck. His fingernails scraped against my skin. I smelled incense and something else, something rancid. His breath on my neck. His mouth was an inch away from my throat. That familiar panic struck me. I had to get away from him.

  Stay here, stay now, I chanted to myself, chasing away the memories. Stay focused. Get away.

  Just as my elbow arced forward, Malachi spoke very calmly. “Don’t move, Lela. Don’t fight him. Mazikin are venomous.”

  That froze me in place. It wasn’t only what he had said. It was because, beneath the evenness of his voice, I heard it: fear. For me.

  “Smart, Malachi.” Sil’s nose traced the junction of my shoulder and neck. I shuddered.

  Malachi’s jaw clenched. That muscle on the left side started to jump.

  Sil chuckled. “My teeth will be deep in her neck if you don’t get your hands away from those filthy knives of yours.” He sounded like he was having fun.

  I stared at Malachi, wishing I could explain, wondering why I wanted to try, knowing there was no adequate explanation. Yet again I’d been an idiot. Desperate to escape, I’d overlooked every danger sign, believed every word Sil had said, and ignored everything Malachi had told me. I had underestimated Sil’s lethality and set up Lutfi, who’d spent the last second of his life trying to save mine, whose last word had been meant to ensure my survival.

  “That’s better,” sneered Sil as Malachi raised his hands in the air. “Now, this girl and I are going to depart, and you are going to stay where you are. If I even think you are following, I will kill her, as slowly as possible.” He giggled as his fingernails skimmed along my collarbone. “I won’t extend her the same courtesy I did Lutfi, for instance.”

  Malachi’s eyes narrowed in hatred as they shifted from me to Sil, but he didn’t look surprised. No doubt he’d already noticed Lutfi’s belt fastened at Sil’s waist. “I won’t follow,” he said icily. “She obviously wants to go with you more than she wanted to go to the Sanctum, so she’s all yours. I’d just kill her anyway for helping you escape.”

  My heart stuttered with fear at his words, but Sil’s grip on me tightened. “Liar. You’ve already given yourself away, Captain. If that were true, she’d already be dead. And so would I. Mazikin are not as stupid as you think.”

  I moaned quietly. Malachi probably would want to kill me as soon as he saw his beheaded friend, who had died with the bashful blush still on his cheeks.

  “Come, girl. You’ll feel like a brand-new person once you join my family. Don’t worry. Let’s get out of here.” Sil walked backward, pulling me along. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and dragged me, stumbling, past several doors in the endless stone corridor. I half expected Malachi’s knives to embed themselves in my chest at any moment, but he remained frozen in place, watching us go, his eyes alight with both fury and concern.

  Sil stopped in front of a door, one that looked identical to every single door I’d seen in the building. He took the set of keys from Lutfi’s belt and tried each one while managing to keep his eyes on Malachi. The seventh key turned easily. With a rush of stale air, the door opened onto an alley. Just as Sil tugged me through it, I leaned forward against his hand, which constricted painfully around my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” I tried to yell, but it came out as a strangled whisper. Malachi didn’t move. The look in his eyes made me want to run. Away from him. Toward him. I was completely unsure of which.

  Sil jerked me into the alley and sprinted away, towing me in his wake.

  TEN

  I TRIED TO COUNT blocks, but Sil took turn after turn and pulled me through several buildings to make it to our present position. I wasn’t even sure how long we’d been running. “Please,” I gasped, “can we rest for a while?”

  “You’re in luck,” he cackled. “Some of my family will be waiting just up here. We’ll get something to eat before we move on.”

  I wiped away a tear with my free hand. My other was clutched in his sweaty, clawed grasp. The back of my hand was bleeding and throbbing from the bite of his fingernails. I’d been trying to find a way to escape, but he hadn’t let me go since we’d left the Guard Station. For a while I’d hoped Malachi would chase after us, would swoop down and rescue me. He certainly seemed capable of it. As the time passed, though, it seemed more and more probable that Malachi had simply let me go. It made my chest ache in an odd way, but I ignored that—this was no different from when I’d been alive. The only person I could depend on was me. And I needed to get myself out of here. I was certain I didn’t want to go wherever Sil was taking me. His family didn’t sound very hospitable.

  An enormous, Samoan-looking man sat on a stoop outside a row of townhouses in the next block. “Chimola!” Sil called, a smile revealing his glistening teeth. “Where are the others?”

  The man looked up and waved. He gave me a once-over that made me wish I was invisible. He pointed across the street as two women emerged from a high-rise apartment building hand in hand. One of them was young and frail looking. Most of her long, blonde hair cascaded in tiny braids around her face. It reminded me of those white girls who come back from their Jamaican spring breaks with cornrows, thinking they actually look good.

  The other woman was older. Much older. Her iron-gray hair was in rollers; it looked as if the two women had been styling each other’s hair. The older one stroked the young woman’s shoulder and crooned to her as she helped the girl strap on a too-large sword belt. From a Guard, no doubt. The young woman was so petite that, from its sheath at her waist, the blade dragged against the ground. Interesting. I wondered if the girl’s arm was even long enough to draw the scimitar. Maybe if I could get that girl alone…

  A chuffing, pounding noise distracted me, and I looked away from the girl to see the old woman galloping toward me, on all fours.

  Sil held my hand firmly, his fingernails burrowing.

  “Girl watches Lacey,” the old woman snarled.

  “Be calm, Doris,” Sil soothed, stroking her rollered hair with his free hand. “This girl will join our family soon. She’s no threat. And look at her hair!”

  Doris’s watery blue eyes twitched up to my heavy mass of looping curls. “Perfect,” she murmured, wet, raspy breaths punctuating the word. She had some sort of European accent. German maybe? She laid a thick, spotty hand on my head with surprising gentleness. “Good girl.”

  She huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a snore and loped back over to the young woman with the big sword, whose name was apparently Lacey. Doris took Lacey’s face in her hands and kissed her sloppily on the lips, then led her across the street to where the giant, Chimola, sat. Excellent. The creepy frau wanted to do my hair. And possibly something else. I had to get out of there.

  “Where’s Juri?” Sil asked.

  “Hunting,” chimed Lacey in a recognizably southern accent. She fiddled with one of Doris’s rollers. Doris sat down on the stoop and pulled Lacey onto her lap. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Doris’s animal movements were nauseatingly strong and fast.

  Sil made a whining sound in his throat. “We must leave soon. Do you think the Guard won’t be looking for me? Malachi knows I escaped! You were all supposed to wait for me here. And where are your weapons? Only Lacey is prepared?”

  Doris gave him a wolfish smile and reached behind Chimola’s elephantine bulk, revealing two more scimitars. Great. All the crazy animal people were armed with swords.

  I barely got to finish the thought when a hand snaked between me and Sil, closing around one of my breasts. I reacted instantly an
d intensely, whirling around and yanking Sil with me so he was between me and the groper. Sil blinked, mildly surprised, but didn’t seem threatened or shocked.

  “Juri!” he cheerfully greeted the groper, a hook-nosed man with a serious underbite and the build of a linebacker.

  When Juri saw my face, his eyes widened for a moment, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He grinned. “It’s you.”

  His voice sent a hard chill straight through me. It was the voice that had made me wake up screaming a hundred times before. He took a step toward me, his eyes glinting with an excitement I knew all too well.

  “Stay the hell away from me,” I snapped.

  He chuckled, deep and raspy. “You always said that to me right before you disappeared. But now you are here. In the flesh.” His hand shot out again and stroked my cheek.

  I turned my face away. It was definitely him. The monster who whispered to me in my dreams, trying to keep me in the dark city forever.

  “No longer a ghost,” he whispered. Then his voice rose, echoing off the surrounding buildings. “This one is mine.”

  “No fucking way,” I yelled, my panic rising.

  All the Mazikin laughed, but Juri seemed to think it was particularly funny. He grinned at me and then licked his lips in a truly obscene way. “Mine,” he repeated, opening and closing his hands in front of him. If my sense of self-preservation hadn’t held me back, Sil would have. He had such a tight grip on my hand that it would have been impossible to get away unless I was willing to leave my arm behind.

  “Do you have food?” Sil asked Juri.

  “Ya.” Juri opened a paper sack and removed various unappealing food items. The other Mazikin gathered around, pawing at the bag.

  Sil let go of my hand to devote his attention to getting his fair share. “Girl, you go sit there. If you try anything, I’ll send Doris after you.”

  Doris, who had a mouthful of something beige and juicy, winked at me and bared her teeth. It took everything I had not to run, but I managed to walk slowly across the street and sink down onto the curb.