Hearts of Darkness

by Kira Brady

  The doctor finished his inspection and stepped back, still and strangely lifeless. His hands hung limply at his sides as if the marionette strings had been cut.

  “Mr. Nils,” Norgard said. “Please check Miss Friday to see if she’s ovulating. I wouldn’t put it past that dog to play with the merchandise. Hart did well, didn’t he? He’s always so prompt at fetching things. Never lets any messy emotions get in the way of his work. Almost Dreki-like in his efficiency.”

  “Burn in hell,” Kayla told him.

  Norgard smiled. “That fate was sealed a long time ago. Welcome, dearest Persephone, to Hades.”

  Kayla watched in horror as a spasm shook the doctor, and something glowing and translucent flowed out of his nose and mouth. Shimmering in the air, it was more an absence of light than light itself. It flowed toward her, and it was all she could do not to open her mouth to scream.

  Lights flashed in the back of her eyelids as the thing swooped through her nostrils and possessed her body.

  Chapter 12

  Hart loaded weapons into his car with shaking hands. The moon climbed toward the horizon, pulling him like a lodestone. He didn’t see the Crow in time to raise his sword.

  The Crow swooped, extending his claws like blood-seeking blades. Hart raised his arm to protect his head, and the Crow’s claws plowed through his leather jacket and hit skin. His arm throbbed. Wet dripped down his sleeve. The Crow wheeled in the air for another dive, but Hart already had his gun out and ready.

  “I’ll shoot,” Hart called up. “Don’t try me.”

  The Crow swooped low and Changed in midair, landing gracefully on his feet. “Found you,” Johnny said. “Rudrick wasn’t done talking to you.”

  “I don’t have time for this bullshit.” Hart swung a black bag back into the trunk and slammed the lid. He kept one eye on Johnny as he shuffled around the side of the car to the driver’s side.

  “I never pegged you for a coward,” Johnny called. He was spoiling for a fight.

  Hart wiped his brow with the arm holding his gun. His skin stretched taut across his bones. It felt as if one touch would pop him like a balloon. The beast threw itself against his rib cage with wild desperation. Adrenaline raged through his bloodstream. Rabid thoughts flashed through his head as if someone were sitting on the channel changer of his personal remote: run, tear, hunt, rip, blood, kill, KILL, KILL.

  Johnny must have recognized the haggard expression and the bloodlust flickering in his eyes. He took a step back. “The full moon. You’re close to the Change.”

  “Ya think?” Hart’s voice was little more than a raspy growl. He had to hold on to his humanity just a little longer.

  “Hell, man. Don’t you think you should get locked up or knocked out or whatever it is you do?”

  “I wish.” Hart opened the car door and got in.

  “Where are you going? Hey, I’m talking to you.” Johnny ran around the side of the car and jammed his foot in the door.

  “Knock it off, bird boy.”

  Johnny’s face darkened. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’ve got something Rudrick wants—”

  “Settle your feathers.” Hart took a vile of dragon’s blood out of his pocket, uncapped it, and shot it down like cheap tequila. Perhaps it would keep the madness at bay. He had an hour, maybe two if the Lady was merciful. “I’m off to get it now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Hart leaned back heavily while the Drekar blood burned down his throat and speared through his body. “Norgard has Kayla.”

  “Shit. She saved your life, and you fucked her over?”

  “Yeah. Not going to fight you. Need”—he took a ragged breath—“all my strength to get her back.”

  Johnny laughed. “How? That’s a suicide mission, even if you weren’t half dead. You look like shit warmed over.”

  Hart shrugged.

  “No.” Johnny shook his head. “I’m coming with you. Rudrick sent me to protect his asset, and I’m sticking with you till the job is done.”

  Hart managed to turn his head to give the kid a flat look.

  “You have extra ammo in that bag, or what? Where is she?” Johnny asked.

  “The chocolate factory.”

  “Shit.”

  Hart nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

  “So what’s your plan? You do have one, don’t you?”

  Hart grunted. The Drekar blood was working already. The images of blood and death faded from his mind until he could see the gritty street clearly again. His beast stopped tearing at his insides.

  Oscar stepped from a nearby alley, followed by Grace. “He needs a diversion,” Oscar said.

  Hart felt his gut twist. He needed help, but he didn’t want anyone else to get killed because of him. “It’s not your fight.”

  “You planning to bust in guns blazing, cowboy?” Oscar asked, irritation pitching his tenor voice higher. “’Cause that’ll do the woman a whole lot of good.”

  “Stand down.” Hart took two high-powered rifles out of the backseat and loaded them. “Neither of you are free.”

  “Whoa. Does that mean you are?” Johnny asked Hart. “No one lives long enough to pay off a blood debt.”

  Hart shoved up the sleeves of his shirt to show his bare biceps. Stark tan lines were all that was left after half a lifetime of service.

  “Blessed Lady,” Johnny swore. “So what’s the plan? We burst in the factory’s back door and—”

  “No one’s going in there but me.” Hart cut him off. “You three can set up a diversion to get the troops out. Something big.”

  “I’ll blow up the Locks,” Oscar said. “It’s a one-man job, and it’ll get the guard away from the factory.”

  “Norgard has ordered me to ink at the bridal ceremony,” Grace said quietly.

  “No,” Hart croaked. He didn’t want to think of Kayla married to anyone else.

  Where had that thought come from?

  “I can pass her a message,” Grace said. “She’ll be ready for you. Bird boy here can provide you cover.”

  “Can we trust him?” Oscar asked, staring hard at Johnny.

  “My enemy’s enemy is my friend,” Grace answered, but she didn’t look convinced.

  Johnny puffed up. He slapped his right hand over his heart. “I swear to the Lady that you can trust me to fight the Drekar. The only good lizard is a dead one.”

  Hart nodded. Johnny would be there to protect Rudrick’s investment, nothing more. Hart didn’t mind giving the Drekar another target besides himself. “Oscar, twenty minutes to get into position. Johnny, provide cover,” he ordered. “When the soldiers arrive, lead them on a wild-goose chase. Don’t get caught.”

  Oscar grinned. “All right. Let’s do this thing. They won’t know what hit them.”

  In Norgard’s private chamber, slave girls lit tall, white tapered candles. Ten brass sconces stretched over the iron headboard. The king-sized bed was outfitted with red silk sheets and covered with a lion pelt, head intact. A blazing fire in the huge fieldstone fireplace chased the chill from the room.

  The wraith infestation had been mercifully, painfully brief. Kayla’s limbs still shook with the memory of it. She had fought it and won. She’d thrown it out of her body three times, before Norgard had called off his spirit minion. Thank whatever capricious deities ruled this place; no ghost would get the better of her. She was stronger than she ever knew.

  Now the drug hummed through her system, soothing muscles, relaxing inhibitions, easing worries, and clouding her mind. Fear and anger dissipated under a blanket of warm fuzzy feelings. She had to stay alert. She had to try to escape, but it was easier to drift along and watch the candlelight play across the ornately painted walls. Visions of hell from every culture, some gruesome, some peaceful, wove and twisted over the uneven stone surfaces. Ravens presided over bloody battlefields, ushering the dead to a great feast in the clouds above or fiery torment in the caves below. The four horsemen of the apocalypse rode above
the headboard, leaving carnage in their wake. Even the ceiling was covered in grotesque images of the afterlife.

  The images didn’t scare her, though she knew they should. She felt detached, more interested in the colors than the grizzly subject of the painting. The slave girls finished lighting the room and exited, leaving her alone. After a few moments, the door opened again, and a slight figure in a red hooded robe entered.

  “Please take off your clothes.” The voice was feminine.

  Kayla considered the statement. She tilted her head and wrinkled her nose. “I prefer to keep them on.”

  The figure drew back her hood, revealing blue-black hair and a familiar scowl.

  “Grace!”

  Grace shook her head, quick but firm. “Your assistance is not voluntary.”

  Hope shattered. Kayla wanted to recoil from the pain and hide beneath the smothering blanket of the drug. She pinched herself, trying to keep her brain in the here and now. “Not you too,” she whispered. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  “Must we deserve our pain and suffering? We are all playthings of the gods. If there is a sense of cosmic justice at all, it doesn’t balance out until we reach the other side.”

  Play along, Kayla told herself. Keep alert for an escape route. Her fingers fumbled with the robe tie.

  Grace pushed her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she sat. Her eyes bore into Kayla’s, pleading and commanding at the same time. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered, moving her mouth as little as possible. “I’m here to help, but you need to follow my orders. Relax your shoulders. Try to look loose and a little drunk.” She pulled Kayla’s robe apart, baring her to the waist.

  Kayla crossed her arms over her naked chest. Part of her was embarrassed to be exposed like this. Part of her wanted to float back to that fuzzy, happy place.

  Grace removed a small vial and a long black feather. She uncorked the vial and dipped the feather quill into it. The gold-flecked ink bled up the quill and spread into the feathered shaft until the whole thing glittered in the candlelight. “Sit still,” she ordered. She pulled Kayla’s arms away from her breasts and knelt on the floor in front of her. Carefully, she raised the quill to mark Kayla’s skin.

  Kayla tried not to jerk away when the ink burned into her breast. The sting helped keep her focused. “What are you writing?”

  “Runic inscriptions calling for Freya’s blessing.” Grace scratched sticklike marks around each nipple. “She’s the Norse incarnation of Ishtar, the goddess of sex and fertility.”

  “Great.” Kayla wiped her sweaty palms on her silk skirts. Stay alert. Stay strong. It was a struggle. “Do they work? You don’t have to do this. You could write something else—”

  “He’d know.” Grace marked the skin over Kayla’s heart and drew a circle around her naval. The runes spiraled out over her womb.

  Kayla’s eyes followed the swirls of the feather. She felt herself detaching again, the haze thickening in her brain. She tried to stand up. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Grace took her hands and pulled her back down. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice—”

  “No. Not for me. Not for Hart.”

  Kayla’s stomach turned over at his name. Emotions churned beneath the drug’s dampening mist. Anger. Hurt. How could the choice not have been Hart’s? She wanted to believe Grace.

  Grace glanced up from her runes. “We’re slave-bonded. I don’t have time to explain.” Her voice was low and urgent. “Norgard will come in soon. There are manacles at the head and footboards. Don’t make him tie you up.”

  “Won’t he be suspicious if I suddenly agree to his demands?”

  “You’ve been drugged, haven’t you?” Grace examined Kayla’s pupils and nodded. “You’re still dilated. How do you feel?”

  “Confused. I want to trust you, but—”

  “Swallow this.” Grace took a small red pill from the pocket of her robe and slipped it between Kayla’s unresisting lips. “Quickly!”

  Kayla swallowed. “What was that?”

  “Caffeine pill. Might help wake your brain up.” Grace stood and began painting runes on Kayla’s forehead and cheekbones. “You need to slip out of this room before”—she swallowed—“anything happens. Turn left and go down the corridor. Exit the personal chambers through the wide gilt doors; it will lead you to the main tunnel. Climb up to the second floor and exit. Do you remember the Great Hall?”

  Kayla nodded.

  “Try to get back there.”

  “What then?”

  “There will be help.” Grace stood back and corked the vial again. “I hope.”

  Kayla pretended she hadn’t heard that last bit. The caffeine seemed to be kicking in. Fear roused once more. “Why can’t I go now?”

  “Because he—”

  “Eager to leave already?” Norgard’s cultured voice from the open doorway deflated any hope of escape. “The best part is yet to come.”

  Kayla prevented herself from hurriedly pulling the robe over her naked chest. Norgard couldn’t know the drug was wearing off. She stood slowly and let a lazy smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

  Norgard looked pleased. “Leave us,” he told Grace. He resembled an opium warlord, dressed in a red silk robe intricately embroidered with a Chinese dragon in yellow and green. The open neck left his glistening chest exposed. He had no chest hair, like a snake, and his skin glittered in the candlelight as if made up of a thousand tiny scales.

  “What do you think?” Norgard asked when the door closed. He turned in a circle, showing off his toned body beneath the smooth fall of the silk. “Eat some chocolate, darling. It’s good for you. Plenty of antioxidants to keep you looking young.” He slithered closer, and Kayla braced herself for his touch.

  She had to hide her revulsion. If she could pretend it was someone else, someone whose body she was actually attracted to, maybe he wouldn’t notice the stiffness in her back and shoulders. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her gag when he touched her. Oh, please don’t notice.

  But the only person she could think of was Hart. Hart’s broad, muscled shoulders leaning over her. Hart’s strong chest against her back, and his warm breath tickling her neck. Hart’s arousal pressed against her backside.

  Heaven help her. Was it better to remember the man who’d betrayed her than to think of this psycho? And what did that say about her, that even though Hart had abandoned her to this fate, she still wanted him?

  She was a fool.

  “I can make this pleasurable for you,” Norgard whispered in her ear. “Very.” He stepped away from her, and she breathed again.

  She needed a weapon. There wasn’t any furniture small enough to lift, or any spare knives lying around. Not that she knew how to use a knife. A scalpel, maybe. A syringe. If she had an ACE bandage, she could make a mean wrap. Her healing skills were useless. Could she perpetrate violence, even in self-defense?

  Yes. Yes, she could. The iron candelabra caught her eye, but it wouldn’t detach from the wall without a full set of tools. The candles themselves weren’t heavy enough. Would a Dreki burn if he were set on fire? Or did that whole fire-breathing-dragon thing mean that he was flame-resistant? Think, damn it. If she got out of here, she was going to sign up for boxing lessons.

  A bottle of wine sat in an ice bucket on the bedside table. That might work.

  Norgard picked up a box of the vile chocolates sitting next to the wine and held them out. “Eat more chocolate.”

  Kayla shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

  “I said eat.”

  She took one and popped it in her mouth, because he was watching. “These are so good,” she said around a mouthful.

  “The future of my people depends on you.” Norgard pulled the heavy bottle of sparkling wine from the bucket and poured two glasses. He handed one to her.

  She accepted the glass, but didn’t drink. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

  �
�This was Desiree’s favorite vintage.” Norgard took a sip. He had taken off the monocle. His pupils were elongated, which Kayla was beginning to understand was a sign of his excitement.

  She eyed the wine bottle. It was heavy, but portable. If she screwed this up she wouldn’t get another chance. Norgard stood between her and it. She had to get behind him.

  “Let me help you out of that robe,” she said. How would she act if she thought herself a little bit in love? Trusting? Playful? Desi had been the actress, not her. Desi had played the flirt well. She wondered how long Desi had known Norgard was psychotic. How long Desi had pretended to love him, while she plotted behind his back. She must have been terrified.

  Kayla could do this. She only had to pretend for a few more minutes. She forced herself to walk up to Norgard—swinging her hips a little—and reached up to touch his chest. The coldness of his skin made her snatch her hand back.

  He chuckled and took her hand in his long thin fingers. “Perhaps I should have fed more recently—”

  “Oh, no. I’ll warm you up.” She traced her fingers over his cool skin. Wow. Those were indeed tiny scales. She had pet a boa at the zoo once, and this felt just like it. Smooth and textured. The scales ran flawlessly over his sculpted muscles, and if she weren’t looking so close, she wouldn’t have known it wasn’t human skin.

  She shot him what she hoped was a sultry glance from underneath her lashes, and slid around to his back, trailing her hand over his shoulder. He was thinner than Hart, but he was still far bigger than Kayla. There would be no contest in a battle of strength, even if he were human. She’d only have one shot to knock him out. He was almost too tall for her to get a good swing.

  The bottle felt cold as she closed her right hand around it. She reached her left arm around his waist, slipped inside his robe, and closed her fingers over his erection.

  Norgard groaned.

  The bottle slipped in her sweaty grasp, and she had to readjust her hold. Her other hand, well, she didn’t care a fig if it felt clammy. If she let go for one second, no power on earth could get her to put her hand back there again.