Chase the Dark (Steel & Stone Book 1)

by Annette Marie

  “Yes,” he agreed, his voice empty of inflection. “You will not have to see me again.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving her to follow at her own pace and put whatever distance between them she wanted. She clutched her arm to her chest and stumbled after him.

  He was alive. She was alive. Lyre was alive.

  It was the only good thing about the entire night she could come up with. But at least they were alive.

  CHAPTER 16

  THEY didn’t even make it back to Lyre before everything went wrong—again.

  Two unfamiliar daemons stepped out of the trees before Ash reached them. He stopped. Piper came to a halt a few paces behind him, glancing over the newcomers. It seemed the group of daemons that had attacked the Gaians hadn’t fled far during the choronzon’s attack. These two looked a little worse for wear but were otherwise unremarkable: buzz-cut, well-muscled army types. Their bearing was distinctly militaristic.

  “We have the incubus,” one of the two said without preamble.

  Piper sucked in a sharp breath. She clutched her injured arm and wondered what the three daemons would do if she sat down where she was and refused to move until fate stopped bitch-slapping her at every turn.

  Ash didn’t immediately react. When he finally spoke, his voice was an icy, malevolent hiss.

  “You do not want to get in my way right now.”

  Both daemons’ stares darted toward the dead choronzon. The one who’d spoken spread his hands in a placating gesture. “If you want your friend, you’ll have to come with us. If you want to walk away instead, we won’t stop you.”

  Piper figured he really meant, “We can’t stop you.”

  Ash grunted. “Lead us then.”

  The daemon nodded. He and his companion made an about-face. Ash followed. Piper trailed behind, stumbling every couple steps. Dawn tinged the horizon a pale pink but the forest was still dark. She realized with numb surprise that the rain had stopped. She wondered when. Everything was getting blurry at the edges. Her memory. The trees around her. Everything.

  A strong arm wrapped around her waist. She blinked blurrily into Ash’s face. Had she stopped walking? He’d come back for her. Another flicker of surprise penetrated her daze. She would have expected him to walk on, leaving the weak haemon girl behind.

  “She’s going into shock,” an unfamiliar voice said. The military daemons had come back too. Huh.

  “Look at her arm,” the other said. “Her hand is—”

  Ash made a sharp noise and the daemon fell silent. Ash tugged gently at her waist. She staggered back into motion, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he pulled her along. His arm was warm. Part of her wanted him to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight until everything bad went away. Another part of her didn’t want him touching her ever again.

  She absorbed nothing as they walked. Time passed meaninglessly. All the trees looked the same. Their daemon guides walked easily, strangely unconcerned. Ash guided Piper after them, taking a good portion of her weight off her weak legs. Numbness blanketed her thoughts. Only when she saw the smoldering remains of the Consulate did she realize where they were. Blinking slowly, she took in the scene.

  At least a dozen prefects stood around, their hands resting on their holstered guns. New cruisers were parked behind the wreckage of the original ones. The prefects were waiting with ill-concealed impatience.

  Nearly all the daemons from the earlier fight had made it through without injury. They too had that military bearing, soldiers awaiting command, as they eyed the prefects with distaste. Considering the battle they’d fought, they were in good shape—professionals even more so than the prefects.

  Sitting in a line by the prefects were the surviving Gaians. They were bloody, dejected, and handcuffed. Piper’s mother was not among them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  Sitting side-by-side at the feet of the daemon group were Lyre and—shock rippled through Piper’s numb haze—Uncle Calder. They weren’t bound or handcuffed but it was obvious they were supposed to stay put. Lyre was hunched in pain, gripping his shoulder with one hand, but he still smiled in relief when he saw Piper. Uncle Calder looked relieved too but his expression was grim.

  “Well, well,” a voice announced into the silence. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Hatred flashed through Piper. She put the voice to a face a moment later as a familiar prefect stepped away from the main group and strode toward her. A handful of cronies followed in his wake. Piper gritted her teeth. Fury burned away her numbness, straightening her spine. It was the same sergeant who’d arrested her, refused to believe her story, and accused of her of every crime the Gaians had committed or attempted to commit.

  He was grinning in vindictive triumph. As he approached, his gaze raked over her. She tried feebly to hold the torn front of her shirt closed. He pulled his handcuffs off his belt. The two daemons who’d brought them tensed.

  Ash was faster. He stepped forward to intercept the sergeant. The man’s face blanched as he realized, far too late, what was coming. Ash’s hand flashed out. He grabbed the sergeant by the throat and threw him backward. The man landed hard on his back, winded. Before he could gasp in a single breath, Ash’s boot came down on the man’s throat. He lifted his stare to the rest of the approaching prefects, freezing them in place.

  Ash ground his boot slowly down. The sergeant’s eyes bulged. He jammed both hands under Ash’s foot, trying to relieve the pressure enough to breathe.

  “I’m not in a conversational kind of mood right now,” the draconian growled, “so I’ll keep this simple. You are the first and the last prefect to ever arrest me. Try again and I’ll kill you and your entire squad. Piss me off and I’ll butcher your entire division. Mass slaughter would be a nice change of pace for me.” He leaned down and bared his teeth at the sergeant’s purple face. “I usually hunt much fouler prey than you.”

  He pulled his boot off the sergeant and stepped back. His cutting look sized up the downed sergeant and dismissed him as so far beneath respect as to be worthless. The draconian slid back to Piper’s side and folded his arms impatiently.

  The sergeant, coughing and gasping, stumbled to his feet. Outrage, mixed with fear he couldn’t hide, twisted his face.

  “If you—” he began in a croak.

  Ash interrupted, his voice biting, colder than ice. “If you thought for even a second I would play nice a second time, you won’t live long enough to regret your ignorance.”

  The man choked on the rest of his sentence. Tension thickened the air.

  It shattered when Miysis, the daemon Piper had freed in the Consulate basement, walked out from between two cruisers. Three prefects trailed after him, looking anxious. The mysterious daemon smiled, his yellow-green eyes glittering as he came to stand beside her and Ash’s daemon escorts. Both military daemons gave Miysis casual salutes.

  “Now, sergeant,” he said smoothly to the prefect, “you should honestly know not to antagonize a Taroth. They have terrible tempers.”

  The sergeant paled. His gaze darted from Miysis to Ash and back.

  “What are you doing here?” Ash demanded. Piper’s mouth fell open at the biting hostility suffusing his tone. “Go sharpen your claws on some other fucking tree.”

  Miysis’s eyes cooled to chips of green ice. “You could at least attempt to be civil, Ashtaroth. I am in a position to, at the least, save you from adding to your already brutal reputation by killing everyone here. Or do you enjoy being clothed in the blood of your victims?”

  “There may be blood on my hands, Miysis, but there’s far more on your conscience. Assuming you have one.”

  “And what would you know of consciences, Ashtaroth?” Miysis scorned.

  “I—”

  Piper put her hand on his arm and squeezed. Ash’s mouth snapped shut as he turned a furious black glare on her. She barely managed not to cringe. “Ash,” she whispered, “I freed him from the Gaian’s basement earlier tonight. He was
a prisoner.”

  Ash slashed a derisive look at Miysis. “Him?” he snorted. “What game were you playing, cat?”

  Miysis lifted his chin and tapped a finger to the collar still around his neck. “I misjudged. As did you the night the Sahar vanished, hmm?”

  Ash receded into thoughtful silence, scrutinizing the collar. The two military daemons noticed the direction of Ash’s calculating look and shifted protectively closer to Miysis. Miysis, however, ignored Ash as he shifted his attention to Piper. She shrank a little, no longer sure how to react to him.

  “Piper,” he said, his voice softening from the acerbic tones he’d used with Ash. “I’m glad you survived. I feared the worst when the house collapsed.” He politely didn’t check out her immodestly torn shirt.

  “You got my uncle out. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” His attention dropped to her injured arm, still pressed to her chest, and his brow creased.

  The sergeant cleared his throat loudly. “Miysis, sir, we have business to address.”

  Piper blinked at the middle-aged sergeant addressing the much younger daemon as “sir.”

  “I know that,” Miysis snapped. “Have patience, man. The girl is injured.”

  “The girl is the thief of your precious Stone. Ask her. Confirm it.”

  Piper went still at the sergeant’s use of possessive. Miysis’s Stone? Could it be . . .?

  The daemon focused on Piper again. “Piperel, I am a truth-seer. I can recognize lies without fail. The prefects have agreed to accept my word in this matter. If you speak the truth, I will confirm it, and you will be free from incrimination from this point onward.”

  “Why are they taking your word for it?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Because the Sahar is far more my business than theirs.”

  She licked her lips. “You’re a Ra, aren’t you?”

  Miysis smiled like a cat with a mouse under its paw.

  Ash snorted. “He’s not just a Ra. He’s their fucking heir.” He spat on the ground, disgust clear in his voice.

  Piper took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves twisting in her belly as her fears were confirmed. No wonder Ash hated Miysis. Miysis was heir to the most powerful Overworld family and the rightful owner of the Sahar. Ash was somehow tied to the Hades family, the most powerful Underworld family and repeated thieves of the Sahar. They were born to loathe each other.

  Her brow furrowed as she looked at Miysis. “What were you doing in that basement then?”

  “I was investigating the Gaians. I didn’t expect them to have a choronzon to threaten me with, nor did I realize I was allowing them to put such a powerful collar around my neck when I declined to battle the choronzon.” He sighed. “I will be laughed at for the next year.”

  “At least,” Ash taunted.

  “At any rate,” Miysis said, ignoring Ash, “I’ve already questioned the Gaians and your uncle. The truth is clear: the Gaians committed all the crimes at the Griffiths Consulate except stealing the Sahar. They do not know where it is. They never had it. Your uncle does not know who stole the Sahar from the Consulate or who has it now.”

  Piper’s heart clogged her throat. She struggled to keep her breathing even. Miysis had come so close to the truth; Piper had almost shown her uncle the Stone. Fear skittered up her spine as she realized Miysis was about to question her. If she lied, he would know. If she admitted to having had the Sahar, to having hid it from everyone and run off with it—and then lost it—she didn’t know what the consequences would be, but there would be punishment. At the least, if the general public knew she’d had the Sahar, they would always suspect she somehow knew where it was now. Daemons would continue to hunt her. She would never be free from fear of attack.

  She faced the Ra daemon heir, knowing her future depended on the questions he would ask and the truth she had no choice but to give. The intent stares of everyone on the lawn burned her. She clutched her arm to her chest and tried not to look terrified. It all came down to this—to the questions of a truth-seer. It could be her saving grace or her final downfall.

  Miysis’s eyes slid from green to black. Power gathered around him, shocking in its strength because the active magic-depressor was still locked around his neck. No wonder Ash had laughed at the thought of Miysis being imprisoned by the Gaians. No wonder the Ra daemon had been so indifferent to his predicament. She was sure now he could have escaped any time he pleased but for some reason he hadn’t. He’d waited, enduring humiliation for reasons of his own—for the real thief to appear, perhaps?

  He shifted closer until Piper saw nothing but his black eyes, shadowed by his power. His hand lifted, fingers touching her chin. She bit her lip, remembering Ash’s touch in the exact spot. Was Miysis equally as terrifying without glamour? Or were Overworld daemons different in their true natures?

  “Piperel Griffiths,” he intoned. His voice was as melodic as ever even without inflection. “Speak only truth in your answer.” Silence pressed on her ears. His stare burned into her.

  “Did you steal the Sahar Stone from the vault in the Griffiths Consulate?”

  She blinked back tears as relief swamped her. She met Miysis’s stare and answered in a clear, strong voice. “No, I did not.”

  Miysis nodded. Astonished disbelief stamped the sergeant’s face.

  “Do you possess the Sahar Stone?” the Ra daemon asked.

  “No, I do not.” Thank God. For the first time, losing the Stone didn’t seem like a complete disaster.

  Again, Miysis nodded his acceptance of her truth. “Do you know where the Sahar Stone is now?”

  She licked her lips. She knew the harpy had taken it, but she didn’t know where. “No, I do not.”

  He hesitated. She waited, not daring to breathe. Finally, he nodded. “Truth,” he declared. “All truth. The girl is innocent of all charges.”

  The sergeant stepped forward. “But—”

  Miysis pivoted, the sudden movement embodying violence. He bared his teeth. “You doubt my ability, sergeant?” His voice was a deadly hiss. “You think she has deceived me? You think her simple answers somehow conceal lies?”

  The sergeant backed away so fast he stumbled. “No, of course not. I—I mean—Forgive my presumption. I got carried away.”

  Miysis stared him down, then turned back, this time to face Ash.

  “Ashtaroth, speak only truth. Did you steal the Sahar Stone from the vault in the Griffiths Consulate?”

  “No, I did not.”

  Piper clenched her hands into fists. Thank you, Miysis, she thought. Thank you for asking such specific questions. If he had asked only if Ash stole the Sahar, his answer would’ve been a lie. Ash had stolen the Sahar—just not from the vault.

  “Do you possess the Sahar Stone?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Do you know where the Sahar Stone is now?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Truth,” Miysis announced. He shot the sergeant a black-irised glare. “Anything else?”

  “Ask him what he’s doing here then.”

  Miysis focused again on Ash. “Why did you come here, Ashtaroth?”

  Piper held her breath as Ash hesitated. He exhaled carefully.

  “Piper came to rescue her father. I wanted to help her.”

  She closed her eyes, sagging in the release of tension. He didn’t know it was actually Uncle Calder, but that didn’t matter; he’d spoken truth, and even made them look noble instead of suspicious. She would’ve opened her eyes again to see the sergeant’s expression, but it was so nice to have them closed.

  “There you have it, sergeant.” Miysis’s voice had a weird hollow sound, too loud in her ears, like he was too close but far away at the same time. “They came on a rescue mission. They are innocent.”

  “You realize that leaves us with no leads at all?” was the angry reply.

  “Then we have no leads. I would prefer to accept that truth than waste time and energy arresting innocents.”


  The air was buzzing in her ears. Everything seemed distant, unimportant, disconnected. Her arm throbbed in time to her heartbeat.

  “Piper?” Ash’s voice whispered in her ear. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up. She let herself lean into him. That felt so nice she gave up on standing entirely. He sucked in a breath when she went limp. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her injured forearm between their chests as he cradled her carefully.

  “Miysis, where’s your healer?” he demanded. His urgency didn’t touch her.

  Miysis’s voice barked commands. The world was spinning, but Ash’s arms were steady and strong. Always strong. He was her only rock in the ocean of adversity that had flooded her life since the night of the attack on the Consulate. He was the only one who showed up again and again, his strength offered, nothing asked in return.

  Shame choked her. Dredging up the determination from somewhere deep inside, she forced her eyes open. Her gaze found Ash’s, his gray eyes pinched with worry.

  “Ash . . .”

  “Shh. Don’t worry. Miysis has a healer. You’ll be fine.”

  She couldn’t tell him she forgave him for his betrayal, his lies of omission. She couldn’t tell him she understood why he’d done it, or that she was sorry for holding it against him. She couldn’t tell him he didn’t terrify her now that she’d seen what he really was. But she had to tell him something.

  “Ash, I . . .”

  He frowned and tilted his ear down, listening. She pressed her hand against the side of his head.

  “Ash . . . I like your horns. They’re cool.”

  She smiled weakly at his baffled expression. Holding that image in her mind, she surrendered to unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 17

  PIPER muttered insults to no one as she dug the broom into the corner of the room. Glass was miserable to sweep. It either caught in the grooves between the planks of hardwood or it went rolling merrily across the floor. For the fourth time, she tried to sweep the glittering debris into a pile so she could scoop it into the garbage bin.