Sacrifice (The Gryphon Series Book 3)

by Stacey Rourke

  Nothing snaps a girl out of a manufactured lusty vibe faster than finding herself involuntarily bolted to a heavy wood slab.

  “What are you doing?” I growled and yanked against the cuff. Whatever this thing was made of it didn’t even budge at my attempt.

  Rowan’s hand rose to stroke my cheek. I flinched away from him. My breath came fast and ragged in my sudden blinding fury. Sadness flared in his eyes that he quickly blinked away. Stone cold resolve replaced it and he clapped his hand down on my arm. He compelled my other arm down with his touch and clicked the second cuff in place.

  “I never wanted this, Celeste.” He tsked and shook his head. “I thought once Caleb was gone, things would be different.”

  I lunged at him. Unfortunately, he stepped out of head-butting range. “Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with me having to send Caleb away.”

  He turned on his heel and strode across the room muttering under his breath, “Bolted to a sodding table and still she thinks of him first.”

  “Answer my question,” I snarled and scanned my surroundings for a weak spot to bolt through. Even if I found a door with a well-lit EXIT sign I wasn’t going anywhere thanks to these cuffs made of some sort of Conduit-proof kryptonite. I had to be somewhere inside the mansion. The room had the same high ceilings and beautiful cherry-stained, wood-paneled walls. Antique candelabras lit the space with their warm candlelit glow. Positioned in the middle of the room was an ornate antique table with three knives on it. One with a mother of pearl hilt, one with black onyx, and the last polished brass. Next to them sat a copper bowl and a red candle. When the only two pieces of furniture in a room are a table full of knives and a table with handcuffs it’s safe to assume a spa treatment isn’t on the docket.

  The soft light of the candles provided no match for the inferno that burned in Rowan’s gaze when he spun on me. “Did I have something to do with it? You’re damned right I did. I was protecting him from you. If he had stayed here sooner or later the Countess would’ve gotten her payback and had him killed. He’s the only family I’ve ever had. To keep him safe I had to get him far away from you.”

  Metal gleamed as Rowan picked up the black onyx knife and turned it over in his hands. Studying it. Weighing it. Slowly he drew the edge of the blade down his palm. A crimson line split his hand. Over the bowl he made a fist and let the blood stream down.

  “That’s why you were on the island.” A fresh round of boiling rage prompted me to jerk against my chains with the same end result. “You led the Titan right to us.”

  He peered up at me. A lock of golden hair fell into his eye. He flicked his head to adjust it. “I did. But I never meant for anyone to get hurt—the exact opposite in fact. I care for you and Cal both dearly and I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. If you gave me one hint—one inkling—that you cared for me I would’ve kept you safe. ”

  “Safe from what? What could possibly be worse than you? You lying, scheming, villainous, untrustworthy pirate!” I spat. Thanks to him that was now the worst possible word in my vocabulary.

  The hangdog expression he wore while he wrapped a handkerchief around his still bleeding hand kinda made me wanna jab my thumbs in his eyes. “If you live through this I do hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

  “Don’t count on it,” I hissed.

  Rowan gave an almost sympathetic nod, but said nothing. Instead he scooped up the red candle and lit it off the nearest candelabra. Holding it over the bowl, he let the melted wax run down the length of the pillar and drip into the bowl. “Sanus exsisto clausus , ianua exsisto sterilis , servo is tractus.”

  I had a feeling this particular chant wasn’t going to end with unicorns and cotton candy. My muscles tensed, ready for anything but able to do shockingly little at the moment. “Whatever you’re doing, Rowan, you don’t have to. If you meant any of those things you said about how you feel about me, don’t do this.”

  The smoke from the candle grew thick and heavy. Grey smog filled the room and burned my lungs with its spicy sweetness. Rowan kept his head down, and watched the wax drip and splatter in the copper bowl. “For centuries the only thing driving me to stay alive was a vendetta I’ve harbored for way longer than a sane man should. But meeting you and watching what you’ve endured made it seem—pointless. My own pains from the past paled in comparison to what you endure daily. The strength you possess, the compassion that defines you—it’s what made me long to be near you.” I saw no accusation in his eyes, only truth, when he peered up at me from under his lashes. “But it isn’t me you want, it never has been. So if my past goal is all I have left, I have no choice but to pursue it.”

  Out of options, I opened the channel between us. I felt his swirling vortex of empty pain and anguish. Hopeless rejection courtesy of me. Quickly, I broke the link. Rowan was doing this because he felt he had nothing left. As red-rage, teeth gnashing ticked as I was, I didn’t want this for him. We had been friends—kind of—and he was about to destroy that. However, I had the advantage of knowing he still cared for me and that gave me something to build on.

  “Rowan,” I concentrated on keeping my tone soft, calm, and controlled. “It’s not too late. Please, let me go. Undo whatever this is.”

  Behind me wood swooshed over wood, like a pocket door slid open. I turned my head as far as possible, but the table blocked my view.

  “Oh, I’m afraid we’re way past that point, my dear.”

  Recognition of that voice caused icy terror to seep through my veins. “Bernard.”

  CHAPTER Thirty

  Relying heavily on his cane Bernard shuffled-thumped into my line of sight. Yet the sound didn’t stop when he halted in front of me. Instead it intensified, growing to a loud drumming chorus that filled the room. Shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump.

  I choked on my scream. If someone ripped my worst nightmare directly from my head and showed it to me, this would be it. Before me stood a gaggle of roughly a hundred gnomes.

  “Rowan,” I gasped in a high-pitched ‘I’m-about-to-have-the-mother-of-all-freak-outs’ wheeze. “Here’s a little known fact about me. This … ” chains rattled as I waved a shackled hand at the gnomes, “ … is quite literally one of my biggest phobias come to life.”

  Some gnomes exchanged confused looks, others puffed up their wee little chests in acts of cocky bravado. Rowan gave a slightly bewildered snort of amusement.

  My eyebrows nearly rocketed off my face. “Oh, I’m not kidding. I’m seconds away from a freak out that will forever change the way you look at me. Seriously. I am begging you—flat out begging you. Get me out of here. Please.”

  Flaxen brows drew together as the intensity of my plea registered with the pirate. He glanced around at the plethora of tiny folk that should’ve been guarding flowerbeds across the lands instead of whatever bout of nastiness they intended to inflict. Yet before he could lift one finger to help, Bernard took preventative measures to stop just that.

  “Rowan will do no such thing. We had a deal, sir.” Bernard hobbled over to him, dug into the satchel thrown across his chest, and pulled out a rolled scroll with wooden handles at each end. He unrolled it with great flourish to reveal a detailed map. Rowan sucked in air through pursed lips. With a smug nod Bernard handed it over. “As you can see this is your payment in full.”

  I yanked against my chains as hard as my super strength would allow. “A map? You sold me out for a map? Is it directions on how to crawl up your own butt and die? Because it really should be.”

  Deep yearning darkened Rowan’s topaz eyes as he gazed at the worn parchment. Earlier tonight he’d looked at me that same way. Now I was strapped to a table. I couldn’t help but wonder if the map would fare better. “This will help me find my dear Marie Ann. The one girl that never let me down but was viciously stolen from me.”

  Marie Ann? Why did that sound familiar? Then it hit me. My eyes narr
owed with contempt and outrage. “Your tattoo. Marie Ann is a friggin’ boat!”

  Rowan rolled the map up tight. A smug smile spread across his annoyingly handsome face. “A ship, dearie. I told ya I’d get back to the sea someday.”

  “Stop talking,” I huffed. “Every word you utter is making me hate you more.”

  He gave a suit-yourself shrug he shifted his gaze to Bernard. “Promise me she won’t be hurt.”

  “Oh, now you care about my well-being?” I scoffed and shook my head. “We need to look into getting you a cute little cartoon cricket for a conscience, because I think what you have now is a decomposing parrot.”

  “We plan to suck the power from her, boy.” Bernard ignored me and raised his berry-stained hand in the air palm up. “There’s a high likelihood that’ll smart.”

  “Aye. Right and fair, but you won’t be killin’ her?”

  Bernard’s peach-sized head turned my way. “As long as she doesn’t do anything stupid we won’t hurt her. But, let’s be honest, it’s Celeste. She’s bound to do something stupid.”

  “I get my hands on your cane and I’ll show you stupid, you little beady-eyed twerp!” I lunged for him, but stopped when the chains nearly dislocated my shoulders.

  Four gnomes flanked me, two on each side. They folded their arms over their chests and peered up at me from under furrowed white-caterpillar eyebrows. I couldn’t have stifled that cringe or prevented my impromptu whimper if I wanted to. This was too much creepy at way too intimate a proximity.

  “I want your word you won’t kill her,” Rowan demanded.

  “And I’ll give ya no such thing!” Bernard slammed his cane against the floor to punctuate his declaration. “You named your price, and it’s been met. If the girl’s safety was an issue it should’ve been established when we discussed your payment.”

  Rowan rocked back on his heels and rolled the map between his hands. “You’re absolutely right, mate. A deal’s a deal. I handed her over and you kept up your end of the deal. Our business here is through, wouldn’t you say?”

  Bernard waved his hand as if to swat the words away. “Yes, yes, pirate guidelines and all that. Our deal is complete and you’re free to go.”

  “Then go I shall.” Rowan tucked the map into the back waistband of his pants and shot me a wink. “Best of luck, poppet.”

  “Don’t you dare leave me here! Help me!” I hollered loud enough to strain my vocal cords. But my shout only reached a black cloud of smoke.

  “I should probably tell you this now, Celeste.” Bernard’s voice dripped with condescension. “You can scream all you want, no one outside of these walls will hear you. And even if they did, none can enter. The spell I had Rowan cast ensured that.”

  Rowan’s lingering black cloud distracted me from Bernard’s pompous gnome drivel. It swirled around the room in a mini-cyclone. Some gnomes held on to their hats. Other’s scurried after theirs when they went airborne. White, bushy beards blew into gnome faces and left them sputtering to breathe through their own hair. I turned my face away from the powerful gusts as the cloud blew my way. The winds caused my skirt to creep up my thighs and twisted my hair into unruly knots.

  In the midst of it a ghost-hand brushed my cheek and a disembodied voice murmured in my ear, “Break the bowl, Mo Chroi. The room will no longer be bound.”

  The wind abruptly stopped and he disappeared.

  My gaze locked on the bowl. One telekinetic shove should do the trick. But then what? I’d still be shackled to a table surrounded by a herd of seriously peeved gnomes. That horrifying image made me pause and hope that a better opportunity would present itself—quickly.

  Bernard shoved a handful of berries in his mouth, clapped his hands together, and peered at me with glee. Deep wine-colored juice dribbled from his lips and stained his white beard pink. “Let’s get to work, fellas!”

  All around me tiny men sprang into action. Metal screeched as the table I was on lowered back. Gnomes busily buzzed around. What they were doing I could only imagine. My view was restricted to the occasional glimpse of pointy red, blue, and yellow hats that bobbed past the table.

  “So what’s the plan here, Bernie?” My voice cracked with fear and I struggled to steady it. “Wanna drain my powers and take my place as the Conduit, do ya? Seems there would be an easier way to get a promotion like that.”

  “You think I have the desire to be nothing more than a receptacle to borrowed powers?” Bernard’s voice seemed more sinister as nothing more than a faceless echo. “Hardly. I will harness your power and then hand it over to my true Master. Then she will finally be able to seek the vengeance she longs for against the Gryphon.”

  “The Countess,” I muttered to the ceiling.

  Around me all motion halted. Fifty voices dreamily crooned, “The Countess.”

  “Figures,” I grumbled in disgust.

  If Rowan knew about Bernard’s connection to the Countess I would take great joy in killing him—if I ever got out of this room. But honestly, I should’ve known. The second she gave me a “tip” about Caleb and the Titans I should’ve guessed it all tied together in a way that served her greater good. She needed Caleb out of the way so her boy Bernard could encourage Rowan to move in. That was one chick that was begging to get her teeth kicked in.

  “Any chance her royal sluttiness is going to be making a personal appearance tonight?”

  A collective hiss filled the room from shocked and appalled gnomes.

  “You are not worthy to lay eyes on her!” Bernard boomed.

  I snorted a humorless laugh and let my head fall against the table. “Aaannnd she can’t step foot on the property because of the spell the Council cast. For a diabolical villain your boss is kind of an asshat.”

  “Do not speak ill of her magnificence!” Bernard pointed his cane and electricity rocketed through my body.

  My head rose up as the electricity tensed my neck muscles. When the current stopped my noggin smacked against the table hard enough to bounce. I thrashed with enough force to draw blood against the metal cuffs. The small wounds should’ve healed instantly, but whatever the cuffs were made of hindered that as well.

  “The blood! We must catch the blood!” a soft, squeaky voice declared. Feet scurried across the floor. A moment later the bronze bowl appeared at the edge of the table to catch the small stream of blood that trickled from my wrist.

  Bernard’s voice bubbled with jubilance. “It has begun! Nicholi, Astor, retrieve the pearl handled knife. A shallow cut to each of her arms and legs. Catch every drop of blood that falls. Bring me the bronze knife so I may add my own blood to the mix. Hurry now!”

  Foggy headed from the jolt I stared up at the crystal chandelier and tried to regain focus. The teardrop shaped crystals seemed oddly appropriate for the circumstances.

  “So she gets all this power and revenge. Where does that leave you, Bernard?” I croaked, my throat painfully dry and parched. “An outcast to the Council you swore to serve and protect?”

  A silver blade poked up over the edge of the table. It appeared to float thanks to the limited reach of the tiny hand that wielded it. It came down in a smooth, quick motion that sliced into my left leg just above my ankle. I gritted my teeth through the pain. These little jerks wouldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

  “With the Gryphon defeated the Council will soon follow.” Bernard’s voice was tight with pain. He must’ve started his portion of the blood ritual. “They will pledge their allegiance to her Most Radiance or they will die horribly. We will be by her side until the very end, to see her claim her victory and begin her reign.”

  A second slash sliced my opposite ankle, then a third to my wrist. I grimaced and fought for freedom against my restraints. “Minions for all eternity? Way to shoot for the bottom of the food chain.”

  “Say what you will, girl,” Bernard chuckled, “soon you will be nothing more than a useless mortal. If our Royal Beauty feels generous when her reign begins she may hav
e you enslaved for the remainder of your days. If not, you’ll be killed. Being a minion doesn’t sound so bad compared to that, now does it?”

  The knife sliced through my flesh for a fourth time. Any witty comments I had were squelched by my need to stifle an involuntary yelp that threatened to escape.

  Bernard snapped his fingers. “The scepter. Now.”

  An opalescent blue globe mounted to a decorative golden rod bobbed by the table. The marionette show of odd floating items may’ve been downright comical if the circumstances weren’t so bleak and dire.

  A plan would be nice, but I had nothin’. Scream? Send out an urgent empathic SOS? Both options were useless since no one could get in—or even hear me. I could break the bowl to allow my crew access, but that would start a gnome tizzy. If back up didn’t burst in immediately the pint-sized army would slaughter me. Not the most heroic way for the Chosen One to go out—yet definitely the most terrifying. Checking one and then the other, I pulled my hands off the table and inspected the shackles for a loose screw or rusty bolt I could telekinetically remove. They were solid with all shiny new hardware. Probably reinforced just for me. How thoughtful.

  The scepter popped up by my feet, brandished high by a berry-stained hand. “Silence! It’s time!”

  When all else fails, stall for time. “This is gonna end badly for you, Bernie. The Council will have your head. Offering up the Chosen One as a sacrifice? That ranks high on their list of big time no-no’s.”

  Bernard ignored me and raised the scepter high. “Contraho. Illustro. Recolligo. Aufero. Gather here! Join me, brothers!”