Dark Illusions

by D. D. Miers

  “If he chooses to take you on. He’ll determine your worth and make the final call. Which is why we go in person—and alone.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Rugus. He’s of ogreish descent, so mind your gaze.”

  Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be easy. “Can’t I just use any sword? What makes his so special?”

  He looked at me like I’d sprouted a tail and feathers. “A demon blade, made by Rugus, is enforced with the kind of magic that’s unmatched.”

  “So the sword is powerful?”

  “Only as powerful as its keeper.”

  “Then I’m screwed.” I waved my hands in the air. “No magic, remember?”

  He grinned “Yet.”

  One word—but still one of the nicest things he’d said to me. His eyes met mine and those stupid butterflies started flocking again. Shut it down, Abby.

  “He’s a legacy. One of the last remaining in his bloodline. The magic lives within him. He’ll need to attain an heir to keep the legacy alive.”

  And around the circle we go. An heir. A child. Kieron and Yasinda had a child. How could I articulate every emotion playing out in my mind without crossing that line?

  “Isn’t this all a bit . . . complicated, for you?” I asked

  We’d never addressed the fact that he was in love with her, maybe still is, but now I was his “magical soulmate.” They had thought they were elhun, for crap’s sake. They’d planned enough of a life to have a baby together—and he considered a measly make-out session with me to be some giant mistake.

  Inferiority complex, table for one.

  “Is any of this simple for you, Ms. Davenport?”

  I leaned back against the headrest. “Good point.”

  The frigid white cliffside and snow-covered trees dissolved as we reached the top of the mountain. Our car curved around the edge ninety degrees before we pulled off the side of the road.

  “Is this it?”

  “No. We walk from here.”

  I grabbed for the door handle when a pressure pushed into my head. The same pain I’d been feeling for weeks now. But this time, there was a voice. Only a whisper, but it felt like a suggestion in the back of my conscious.

  F . . . e . . . De . . . L . . . Betrayer.

  “Ms. Davenport?”

  I rubbed my temples. “Sorry, what?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing—a headache.”

  The biting cold creeping in from my open door had frozen the tips of my nose and ears. Any exposed extremities were quickly going numb. Kieron appeared to be totally unfazed by the freezing temperatures. His flesh remained a deep luscious tan, absent of the awkward blotchy redness no doubt covering mine.

  His hand stilled on the frame. “Withholding things from me won’t help you.”

  “I could say the same,” I snapped back.

  He didn’t move. Instead, he dipped his hands into the pockets of his long navy jacket and waited.

  “It’s a headache. The normal kind that comes from getting your head bashed in one too many times. It’s not a big deal. No need to call in the guard.”

  “Everything is a big deal when your visions are being penetrated by your enemies.”

  “No one is penetrating anything.”

  He raised a brow as the edge of his mouth lifted up into a grin.

  Freaking-A, Abby.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know what I meant.”

  The smirk turned into a full-blown smile, and he ran a gloved hand through his rich obsidian hair. I broke, no longer able to hold back my own smile as laughter bubbled out of me. Damn. Moments like this killed me. When he made me laugh, made me smile, he was far more dangerous to my heart. A man like that could work his way inside.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  I slipped out of the car and followed his majesty through a cavern. Snow crunched against my fur-lined boots. The path through the frozen trees led to a massive set of doors carved into the mountainside. This entire place was one giant contradiction. Always at odds. Modern and ancient. Magical and practical. It never made sense. It was as though no one in the First Realm could decide. Considering their continuing distaste for mortals, they sure as hell loved our modern conveniences. Stone gargoyles perched over the entry to a wide tunnel. Torches lit the way along the tunnel until we popped out the other side, revealing an enormous underground metropolis hidden within the mountain.

  Kieron didn’t stop moving, not even when every set of eyes in the surrounding area landed on us. Recognition, fear, and perhaps even excitement filled their gazes. There was something about his presence here. He seemed regal, like a prince or lost king. People stepped out of our way . . . mostly Kieron’s way. Almost all faces were in awe of him. What exactly was he to these people? I could swear that I saw black smoke drifting from his back as he walked, but it must have been a slip of the eyes.

  “So, did Rugus make your sword?”

  “Yes. Both of them.”

  “You’ve got two swords?”

  He turned again and I followed. “No. I have twelve, but the ones Rugus made are by far the best.”

  We’d passed a good two dozen shops and closed doors before Kieron stopped. Two crisscrossed ravens sat on the center emblem of the wood-and-steel door. He tapped his knuckles twice and waited.

  A creeping sensation hit me. I turned to look over my shoulder and could’ve sworn I saw a face in the crowd of moving figures. I scanned the various faces until my eyes landed on his. The masked stranger with deep brown eyes who’d saved me days ago. He still wore the same garb he had last time. A forest-green hooded cloak and black bandana covering his mouth. I believe he wanted me to see him.

  The door before us creaked open. “Ms. Davenport,” Kieron said gesturing for me to enter before him. I cast another glance toward the merchants, but the masked man was gone.

  My expectations of what Rugus would look like were both right on target and completely off. He stood roughly ten feet tall with olive-green skin and enormous muscles. I’d expected his face to be distorted, but aside from hooked fangs on his bottom teeth that jutted out over his lower lip, he appeared much like a human man in every other aspect. He looked to Kieron and dipped his head, and Kieron did the same, but his bow was less deep.

  The ogre held a blade in his hand, the tip glowing with orange embers before he dipped it into a cauldron on the floor beside his feet. He didn’t greet me. Didn’t smile. Didn’t offer polite conversation. He set the blade on a set of hooks on the wall and moved through a door in the back.

  I looked to Kieron. “Was that it?”

  “No.” He nudged his head toward the door Rugus had passed through. “Follow him.”

  “Alone?”

  I know I sounded incredulous, but I could help myself. The thought of following that ten-foot monster of a man with an infinite amount of weapons into a back room had “bad idea” written all over it.

  “Yes.” Kieron grabbed my bicep and turned me toward the door. “You’re safe. I promise.”

  The sincerity in his stormy eyes was enough to soothe any fears I had, allowing me to put one foot in front of the other and follow Rugus behind closed doors.

  I peeked inside of what appeared to be both a kitchen and bedroom. An enormous mattress rested in the farthest corner, half concealed by a long drape which hung from the ceiling. A small wood-burning stove was in the other corner where a black stewpot simmered, the scent of smoke and organ meat, perhaps liver, swarming the room. Rugus sat at cocktail-sized round oak table, his back toward the wall. His eyes—which I now noticed were a burnt amber—followed me as I moved to the stool opposite him.

  “Um, so . . . I’m Abby. Which I’m sure you already know.” I tucked a hair. “How does this work?”

  He reached his mitt-sized hand across the table. “Give me your arm. I’ll need to touch the skin.”

  I slipped off my jacket and set it on my lap. Then I rolled up my sweater and set my a
rm out toward him. He grabbed my wrist tight, his sausage-sized fingers wrapping over my pulse. “Relax.” He lowered his head, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

  I waited in silence.

  Waited for a magical feeling to take over. For some kind of sensation to signify that his magic churned through me. That whatever he was looking for, he’d found. But after five minutes of nothing, I peeked at him with one eye. “Is something supposed to be happening?”

  He didn’t answer and kept my wrist tight in his grip for another horrendously awkward minute. He opened his eyes again, but now they were glazed over in white.

  WTF.

  He puffed breaths through his nostrils like an angry dragon. I half expected to see smoke. Finally, thoroughly freaked out, I tried to tug my arm away but he froze me with a single jolt of his arm.

  “To gain a favor, a favor must be given in return,” he said.

  I glanced up to the creepy whites of his eyes. “What do you want?”

  “The truth.”

  He looked at me, but not really looked at me.

  “Which would be?”

  “When the time comes and the choice must be made, what will you choose?”

  “I don’t understand what you’re ask—”

  He jolted me forward. “Silence. I seek the answer from your blood, not your mind.”

  “My blood?”

  “Yes. It never lies.”

  I waited for something—anything—to happen. I expected my arms to burn or for his magic to slip into me and create some kind of recognizable sensation, but nope. Nothing. Zilch. Just the normal heat of skin against skin. Two minutes later, he released me and sat back. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to reveal his normal burnt amber gaze.

  “So?”

  “I see many things. Two sides of one decision. Hope. Desperation. Failure.” He paused and sat forward, his focus blaring into me. “Betrayal.”

  I sat up straighter. “I don’t betray people.”

  “A bold statement to make.”

  “I don’t and won’t betray those who have my trust.”

  He shook his head. “Betrayal is at the route of all nature. It’s instinctual and often times, the first response by most.”

  “Like I said—I have no intention of betraying anyone.”

  “Let’s hope you never have to take back your words. But from what I’ve seen, you will.”

  “Who?”

  “Who what?” he asked.

  “Who will I supposedly betray?”

  “I can’t give you that answer.”

  Of course not.

  Screw this. I wasn’t gonna let another asshole in this world tell me what I was or wasn’t worth. And I didn’t need his stupid sword. I stood up quicker than he expected, grabbed my jacket, tugged down my sleeve, and stormed back toward the door.

  Kieron stood beside the fire, turning as I entered.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I slipped on my coat, pulling my hair out of the back and shoving passed him. “He doesn’t think I’m worthy.”

  “He said that?”

  “He didn’t have to.” I zipped up my jacket, my anger causing the mechanism to catch on the fabric. I jerked it twice but nothing came free. Frustrated, I threw it back open and grabbed for the door. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  Kieron stilled my fingers on the handle. I looked over my shoulder to see Rugus had entered the main room, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched me with indiscernible emotions. I expected him to chide me for my behavior or to continue his assault on my character, but instead he said the last thing I imagined to hear.

  “I’ll make her blade.”

  Chapter Nine

  I hated that I was once again at the mercy of another man. Ogre. Whatever.

  “I see many things. Two sides of one decision.” What the hell did that even mean? If people in the First Realm started speaking in direct terms, a lot of headaches would probably be saved.

  “What are you to them?”

  “To whom?” Kieron asked, glancing between the road and me.

  I circled my hand through the air. “To everyone here in the Demon Kingdom.”

  “I’m not certain I understand what you’re asking, Ms. Davenport.”

  “Oh, come on, that’s bullshit and you know it.” I adjusted my position so I faced him. “They all slink out of your way like they know who you are.”

  “You may not have noticed, that reaction isn’t exclusive to one place.”

  Cocky bastard.

  “No. This is different. They’re in awe of you, like you’re their long-lost king or something.”

  The edge of his jaw ticked through his silence.

  “Holy crap! Are you?”

  “No, and it doesn’t matter who I was. Just as it doesn’t matter who you were. Only who you are.”

  Who exactly was I? An almost college graduate with a whole lot of life goals but no real experiences. I was an outcast, lonely, uncertain. Not much had changed. I was in another world filled with the supernatural and I still didn’t fit in. Now, I’m still an outcast and lonelier than ever. The man next to me was supposed to be the other half of my soul, but he didn’t want me—and I needed to remind myself not to want him.

  “Do you really think you can undo it?” I asked him finally, after a long silence.

  He didn’t answer at first, to the point where I thought he was just going to pretend he didn’t hear me. “Undo what?”

  You know what. “The elhun.”

  “I make no guarantees,” he said. His fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “But I’ll do everything in my power.”

  A sting started in my chest, and I fought the need to grab at it.

  “Is it because you’re still in love with her?” I didn’t have to say Yasinda’s name for him to know what I referred to.

  “We don’t confide in one another Ms. Davenport. “Let’s not pretend to now.”

  Black swirled against the gray in his eyes, and I swallowed, nervous that my stupid curiosity may have just unleashed his beast.

  I wanted to snap back and argue, but this was a line even I shouldn’t cross.

  “I intend to untangle us . . . for both of our sakes.”

  He fell silent, and I found myself wondering why. Wanting to know more. The desire to understand him, to really know him, was like an impossible itch under my skin. The child. Again, I wanted to ask him about the child. But I didn’t need a psychic connection to know that it was too raw a subject to bring up unprovoked.

  As the SUV slowed, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Cars . . . at least a half-dozen were parked everywhere along Kieron’s ice tower.

  “Who else is here?” I asked, unfastening my seatbelt.

  “Daegus, some of the other Council members,” he said, glancing at me, then quickly looking away. “The guardians, as well.”

  Dorian.

  My heart sank into the basement of my belly. I’d been so wrapped up in Kieron and his training that I’d almost forgotten the pull I felt toward Dorian, the way he made me feel safe and comforted like Kieron never could. With Dorian, I could almost feel . . . normal. But everything Kieron did or said, even just the way he made me feel, were constant reminders of the fact that I wasn’t.

  Never could be, never again.

  I grabbed my scarf and held on tightly, twisting the wool fabric anxiously between my fingers as we walked into the foyer.

  “Why are they even here? I thought you didn’t want them to come.”

  “I don’t.”

  Maybe he was wondering why I didn’t seem overjoyed to see Dorian again. At least he did me the courtesy of not asking me about it.

  “I should change,” I faltered, glancing down at my clothes. Under my jacket and boots, I’d only worn wind-resistant leggings and a thermal blouse. Without my jacket over it, my outfit seemed out of place. “I’m not really dressed for another interrogation.”
/>   “It’s not an interrogation,” he said. “And you look—nice.”

  I think the Dark Summoner just complimented me.

  But before I could react, he was gone.

  Joining the not-interrogation, I immediately felt underdressed. Stassi was there, of course. As the assistant to Jeremiah, one of the faction emissaries, she attended all matters of the Council. She, in particular, wore a sleek burgundy blouse and fitted black jeans that accentuated all of her flawless curves.

  “Kieron,” she exclaimed, as soon as he appeared. “It’s been too long, drahá”

  He embraced her but dodged her attempt to kiss him. He glanced at me, meeting my eyes as I went to Dorian. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to make a point, or just distracted by what he thought I was about to do.

  “Abby,” said Dorian, warmly.

  His presence flooded me with that sense of relief, the reminder of normalcy that he always brought me. Dorian might be as foreign to my world as Kieron, but he never made me feel that way.

  “I heard you’ve finally to be outfitted with your own weapon. Congratulations. It’s no easy task to master sword fighting with everything else you’re dealing with.”

  I half-hugged him but kept my distance, mindful of Kieron’s gaze. “Let’s not put the cart before the horse. I’m pretty sure he was just tired of me complaining about using whatever he pulled out of the garbage corner of his armory.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” Dorian lowered his voice a little. “How are things? Tolerable?”

  I shrugged. He wanted me to talk shit about Kieron, that much was obvious. But I didn’t want to indulge in that hobby anymore.

  It’s been good,” I said, carefully. “I’m really happy with the progress I’ve been making in my training.”

  “I wasn’t asking about your training,” Dorian said. “Remember what I told you. Be careful. You’ve seen what he’s capable of when he’s upset.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I glanced at Kieron. He was not looking at me, but he wasn’t looking at her, either, much to her chagrin. He stared into the fireplace, like a damn Jane Austen hero, while Stassi purred her sweet nothings in his general direction. For all his imposing features, it was the first time I’d seen him look so unapproachable. It was like there was a force field around him, but something told me it wasn’t even intentional.