by Kay, Sharon
He needed to see more. “Inside,” Aden commanded.
The image shifted, moving as if a tiny camera on wheels navigated the unforgiving place. A doorway, then a hall came into view.
Males of all species shoved and jostled in the cramped space. Aden couldn’t hear, as the scrying water didn’t conduct sound, but the expressions of the faces were hard. Twisted. Mouths stretched in scowls and sneers. And from the looks of it, raised voices. Everyone seemed to carry a weapon of some sort.
Had all the slaves escaped? Had the guards allowed it, or did the captives rise up as a group to overpower them? The slaves were a hodgepodge of whomever was unlucky enough to get scooped up on one of Draven’s patrols, then live through the arena fights or other forced servitude.
He moved the view to another room, this one appearing to be a kitchen. The mist on his bowl swirled again, as if resetting itself. When it cleared, he sucked in a breath.
Sitting on the floor, crouched behind a huge island, was a female. From her position, he couldn’t discern her size. Her dark hair cascaded in waves down her back, and as she leaned her head against the island, the white straps of an apron became visible over a too-large dress.
Large almond-shaped eyes set in her pale heart-shaped face betrayed fear and fatigue. Those eyes pierced Aden. Haunting, dark, and wary, they seemed to look right into his soul. Beautiful, and she was stuck in hell. He’d bet the inn that she wasn’t a trained fighter.
She opened a cabinet door on the island, just a crack, leaned toward it, and spoke.
He narrowed his eyes. Who is she talking to? It was probably a small space, so if someone was hidden in there, they’d have to be small, too. Some fae were tiny. So were children.
Then again, Stroehm was reportedly riddled with secret passages. Perhaps the cabinet door concealed one of them. But then why wasn’t she going in?
A thought zoomed through his mind—that he shouldn’t worry about the fate of one female in this mess. Chaos would reign until a new leader stepped in. Even then, the lives of slaves and guards would be at the new leader’s mercy. But her face captivated him and stirred an unbidden desire to protect her. Despite the haunted look about her, she radiated a sweet purity.
Sweet purity? He mentally smacked himself. What the hell did he know about that? This female may have retained a good heart throughout whatever she’d endured at Stroehm. Good for her if she did.
Brows pinched, she glanced around, then slipped her hand inside and left it there. With her slender arm stuck halfway inside the cabinet, she was still talking. She didn’t withdraw an object, so there had to be someone hidden inside.
Aden studied her, unable to look away, drawn to put the pieces in place. Her apron indicated that she worked in the kitchen, or maybe she was part of the laundry staff. An odd relief went through him that the bulky, drab gray garment covered most of her. It had long sleeves and the folds of fabric bunched around her bent knees. Far cry from the gauzy dresses he’d heard the thrall slaves wore.
She was pretty enough to be one. And now, she was probably hiding from the males that overran the place. She needed to get a weapon. He wished he could save every female from unwanted advances, but that wasn’t possible. Especially in a big place like Stroehm. No, he needed to get an idea of what was going on.
Tearing his mind from the female, he murmured more words in Demonish. The mist swirled again and an image reformed, showing him a section of exterior land, probably the courtyard. A stone wall was visible in the background. Groups of males brandished weapons. Some stalked about, others ran. As Aden looked, a new fight broke out in the center of his viewing surface.
Guards tried to block a horde of prisoners but they were outnumbered. From the viciousness of their moves, the slaves had to be the gladiator fighters. The guards didn’t stand a chance. Aden watched dispassionately as each one fell.
He couldn’t fault or judge the captives. Stroehm was a miserable place and the death of these men was considered sport. He only hoped that the slaves could form new lives outside the compound. Peaceful lives.
Aden had seen enough. He passed a hand over the surface and the image disappeared. Blowing out a breath, he leaned back in his chair. Trouble was coming. The question was, where?
Any transportation amulets Draven may have owned had probably been stolen in the chaos, allowing hungry, violent males to turn up anywhere. Including his little village of Ivydale. Besides a handful of Deserati demons, most of the residents were peaceful plant pixies. Members of the larger fae group, they had the special ability to help plants grow. Any fruit, vegetable, flower, or tree. The village sat in the middle of vast farm fields and orchards and never lacked for fresh food.
Then why can’t I find a damn cook? He walked to this kitchen and grabbed a chunk of day-old bread. But the ins and outs of running an inn and restaurant weren’t foremost in his mind. That knowledge came second to his real job.
The Stroehm situation might complicate matters, if escapees attacked villages. Then again, it may work in Keegan’s favor to gain more mercenaries. A ragtag band of former slaves on the loose? Now that would be the perfect cover for his clan to keep thwarting the Vipers. What was that old saying? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
Aden washed down the bread with a glass of water and pulled out his phone. Keegan needed to hear this.
CHAPTER TWO
“MOM?” DASH’S MUFFLED VOICE CARRIED through the wood. Though he whispered, Garnet heard him loud and clear. Most mothers on Torth had the ability to hear their small children’s every word, no matter the decibel level.
Cracking open the cabinet door, she found her son’s big blue eyes. Holding a finger against her lips, she shook her head. Too much noise in the hallway. Too many men still hanging around.
“What the hell are we waiting for?” One voice boomed. “Let’s go!” The floor trembled under the weight of boots thundering past, and in a minute the room was quiet.
“We still need to wait and be careful.” She reached her hand in so she could hold his, if only for a moment. His skin was soft, his gaze wary but trusting. At his age he was small enough to be allowed to stay at her side, helping in the kitchen. Thank the gods. He was her one light in this awful place.
Pasting on a smile she didn’t feel, she tugged her hand out of Dash’s. “I need to close the door, nihjo,” she whispered. “If someone comes back here, I don’t want them to know you’re in there.”
“If anyone hurts you, I-I’ll punch him in the face.” Dash’s face was somewhere between a scowl and tears.
“No one will hurt me. I have my knife, remember?” It wouldn’t do much good against a sword or a brawny male fighter, but it gave her a small measure of confidence. And it apparently reassured Dash too.
“Okay,” he whispered.
She shut the door and leaned her head against it. My precious boy. She’d kill anyone who came near him.
Male voices in the hall drew her attention. “We need food.”
Oh no. More men.
“Shit, looks empty. We’re too late.”
“You sure?” Thudding steps came closer. The island creaked as if someone leaned on it.
Go away. Garnet held her breath.
A drawer opened on the other side of the island. Silverware rattled. “Not even any knives left.”
Boots scraped across the stone slab floor, crushing crumbs underneath. The steps came closer. A sigh heaved above her. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Please, leave.
“Fuck. Shoulda come here first.”
Steps retreated. The second voice carried from farther away. “Weapons before food. Easier to get meals if we’re armed.”
A grumbled agreement from the male closer to her, and then his footsteps stalked away.
Silently, Garnet released her breath. That was too close.
Bit by bit, her racing heart slowed. She forced deep, regular breaths, even as she listened to the commotion in the hall. It had died down to a dull, c
onstant thrum of noise. Sounds drifted in through the windows. The clang of swords and voices raised. Good gods, when would she and Dash be able to make a run for it? She shuddered to think what the guards—any of the men— might do to them.
A deep male voice cut through the noise in the hall. “This way.”
“Ah, the kitchen,” a second voice chimed in. A female voice.
Garnet tensed and frowned. The only females at Stroehm were slaves. They all knew where the kitchen was located. Yet this one’s voice held a note of surprise.
Footsteps again entered the room. One set thudded across the floor. The other set of feet click-clacked. Was the female in…heels?
“Garnet.” The male voice was calm.
Garnet’s mouth dropped in horror and her heart resumed its panicked tempo. Who knew she was here? She sat, frozen.
“Garnet. It’s okay,” the female said. “We’re here to help you and your son.”
They knew about Dash? Gods no!
“I know you’re sitting over there,” the male spoke again. “You can come out. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
If he was crazy, he was doing a good job of keeping his voice placid. She trusted no one. Almost two hundred years of her life, kept here as a slave, had dissolved her faith in others.
Would he kill her? Not if I can hurt him first.
She leapt up, brandishing her knife.
And locked eyes with a very tall, very striking Lash demon. A spattering of blood covered one arm and part of his chest. Not appearing hurt, he held up both hands. “Whoa. You can put that down.” He took a step back, though she suspected it was in deference to her fear and not out of concern for his own safety.
Garnet’s eyes shifted to the female next to him. She was beautiful and clean, except for a grubby handprint on her bare arm. Tall, with shiny red locks tumbling in waves down her back. Tiny horns protruded through her hair. Not a slave. A Deserati.
“I’m Bianca,” the female said. “We’re here to get you and your son out of here.”
“I’m Mathias,” the male said. “I’m the Lash demons’ Hunter. You’re safe as long as you’re in my care.”
She’d heard of a legendary tracker among the Lash demons. Her brows knitted in confusion. “Me? W-who sent you?”
Bianca smiled. “Brooke and Kai.”
Shock and humble gratitude collided in Garnet’s heart. The pair had been imprisoned here recently. With her help, they’d escaped with a promise to return for her and Dash. A promise Garnet had listened to with a smile she didn’t feel, not expecting them to be able to succeed. And not for lack of trying. No one ever left Stroehm. “They…are they okay?”
“They’re fine,” Mathias said. “After they got out of this shit hole, thanks to you, they had a few more things come up. Brooke wanted to come back for you herself, but I insisted. She needed some rest, and I’m good at locating people.”
“Are you hurt?” Bianca stepped toward Garnet. “It’s a mass of stinking men everywhere you look around here.” She scowled at the handprint on her arm and rubbed her fingers across it, loosening the dirt. “Pigs. None of them have been around a woman for a while, that’s for damn sure. I had to straighten a few of them out.” Behind her, her long tail twitched back and forth across the stone.
Garnet eyed it warily. Pointed at the end, a Deserati’s tail could snap like a whip, wield a weapon, or kill. “No, Dash—my son—and I hid. No one found us.”
“Thank goodness.” Bianca muttered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Garnet glanced between them, still confused. “How? I don’t doubt your fighting skills, but there are only two of you. Dash and I can do our best but we aren’t fighters. You think we can just walk out of here?”
Mathias jerked his head toward Bianca. “She’s a porter.”
Garnet didn’t even try to cover her shock. A porter? Her jaw dropped. She’d only heard about them and had never expected to meet one, let alone travel with one.
Only about half a dozen were rumored to exist. Porters could travel anywhere in any realm, using only the power of their minds. Usually, spells or transportation amulets were needed to open a portal.
“Oh, my stars.” Garnet laid her knife on the island and clutched the smooth surface, taking a deep breath. “I—”
Four large demons charged into the room, raising swords so shiny she guessed they’d been taken from the armory. As the metal caught the light, she noticed blood coated the blades. Bile rose in her throat. Four against two? She could try—
“Food!” yelled the lead demon, a Serus. All wore the tattered clothing of slaves, and all were predatory species. “And females.”
In a heartbeat, Mathias summoned a ball of demonfire in his palm. The size of an apple, it bobbed gently above his skin. His voice was low with menace. “One chance. Leave this place. Or you’ll wish Draven was still in charge.”
“You’re outnumbered, Lash. And we’re hungry.” The demon’s eyes darted between Bianca and Garnet.
Bianca moved to Garnet’s side, her posture graceful yet coiled with power. “This bunch is dumber than they look.”
In a blur of motion, Mathias hurled the fireball at the Serus, hitting it in the chest. Garnet yelped and jumped back.
Bianca reached an arm out to steady her. “We’re totally safe. He’s a pro.”
As Garnet stared, torn between relief and horror, the Serus demon’s life was quickly extinguished. Mathias summoned more fire, one glowing orb in each palm, and flung them at the next two demons. In seconds, three piles of ash remained on the floor.
The last demon turned and ran, screaming and cursing.
Oh my Gods. Garnet stared at Mathias. He’d snuffed out three lives in seconds. Yet if he hadn’t…she shuddered, knowing what they would’ve done to her. She knew that look in men’s eyes. Knew the depravity, the lust, and the need to render another creature helpless. “Th-thank you.” Her voice was a cracked whisper.
“Don’t need to say anything.” Mathias folded his arms across his broad chest. “Right now we need to get out of here. Bianca and I can fight, but the numbers aren’t on our side.”
Bianca cast a glance around. “Where’s your son?”
“In here.” A life among those not worthy of trust had only sharpened her vision when it came to those who were good and honest. Today she was placing her trust in Mathias and Bianca. Garnet took a deep breath, reached down, and opened the cabinet. Dash’s wide blue eyes stared back at her. “You can come out, nihjo.”
He burst out of the cabinet and wrapped his arms around her. Returning his tight embrace, she murmured, “It’s okay. We have new friends who’re going to help us.”
Dash slowly untangled his arms from around her waist and looked up at Bianca.
“Hi, sweetie.” Bianca smiled, a warm friendly expression that almost negated her lethal skills.
“That’s Miss Bianca,” Garnet said.
Dash stared at her, then his gaze slid to Mathias.
“And over here,” Garnet turned, “is Mr. Mathias.”
Dash blinked and tightened his grip on her leg.
Garnet’s heart pinched, hating and understanding his fear. She knew too well how terrifying it was for a child to be caught up in violence. And even though Mathias was a good guy, he oozed menace. “It’s okay, honey. I know he’s big, but he and Miss Bianca are going to get us out of here. Forever.” The word pinged around her mind. Out and forever were two words she hadn’t dared hope to put in the same sentence again.
“So,” Bianca drew out the word. “Where do you want to go?”
The question momentarily floored her, both because Bianca could take them anywhere, and because Garnet hadn’t allowed herself to envision life outside of these walls. It seemed too much, to indulge the hope of being free. She was lucky enough that she’d survived the first change of leadership with her body and most of her dignity intact.
Where to go? She’d been here so long, she didn’t know if anyone in her old
village would remember her. But that was where she’d lived as a child, where she’d helped her family in their fields and gardens. Doubt evaporated as she allowed herself to picture the rolling hills and orchards full with fruit. She took a deep breath and spoke the name of the place she assumed she’d never see again. “Ivydale.”
CHAPTER THREE
“IVYDALE.” BIANCA NODDED AND TAPPED a finger on her chin, as if thinking about the town’s exact location. “That’s one of the plant pixie settlements, right?”
“Yes.” Garnet smoothed Dash’s blond hair. “It’s where I lived…before.”
Mathias gestured to the white apron she wore over her dress. “That’s why Draven put you in the kitchen. You could make shi—er, plants, grow, and then cook with them?”
“Yes.” That was the short version, the partial truth. The rest, along with the awful memories, could remain buried forever. She swallowed and squared her shoulders. “And Dash has never been to Ivydale.”
“What’s it like, Mom?” Blue eyes looked up at her.
“It’s beautiful.” She locked eyes with Bianca above Dash’s head and mouthed Safe?
Bianca nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Perfect.” Garnet let out a breath as relief washed over her, glad that Bianca’s answer affirmed both her response to Dash as well as her silent question. She didn’t want to return home only to find it had changed to something unwelcome, dangerous, or foreboding. Like what I’m about to leave.
From the hall, metal clanged and loud male voices boomed off the stone. Mathias cleared his throat. “Time to go.”
“Ready?” Bianca asked.
“Yes. What do we do?” Garnet eyed the other woman, trying to wrap her mind around her ability.
“I need contact with you. It’s best if we all hold hands.” The porter extended her hands, palms up.
Dash shot Mathias a wary look and took Bianca’s hand, while his other clutched tightly to Garnet’s.
Garnet gave Dash what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and clasped Mathias’s hand. “Now what?”
