Chained by Darkness (Sensor Series, Book 2.5)

by Illene, Susan

  “How long are you staying?” Bartol had been snoring a moment before. He looked mildly interested now, which would be equal to enthusiastic for most people.

  “Three days. I have to be back out before Lucas’ trial begins,” Eli said. He’d given up sitting on his hands and lost a little skin in the process. Lucas could have told him that would happen, but it amused him too much to watch the psychologist suffer.

  “Please tell me you didn’t give him a good word,” Zoe spoke up. “After all the death he’s caused, Lucas deserves to be executed.”

  She’d been trying to guess which crime they’d brought him in for. No one had told her the real reason Lucas was in Purgatory. If he did get out someday, he might have to return to his duties of protecting sensors. She’d undoubtedly take full advantage of that kind of weakness and use it to kill him. He was glad Kerbasi and his guards weren’t ones to gossip much.

  “Zoe, unless you’d like me to amend my findings on you with the angels, I suggest you not worry about Lucas,” Eli said.

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t?”

  He shifted in his cell for the dozenth time. “I most definitely would. Something tells me I’m not going to be in the best of moods when I leave this place.”

  “Very well,” she huffed, “but don’t expect me to entertain you while you’re here. These men don’t appreciate my singing so the only thing I’ll be doing is sleeping when that monster isn’t around.”

  Kerbasi came strolling up a moment later with a plate and mug in his hands. For once, he hadn’t made a sound. “Who are you calling a monster, little nephilim? I can always make things worse for you.”

  “No…no. I wasn’t talking about you,” she stuttered.

  He shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  She said nothing to that.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “I’m not here for you. You can relax—for now.”

  Kerbasi opened Lucas’ cell door and handed him the plate and mug. He’d be damned if it wasn’t a full meal with a properly cooked steak (rare), baked potato, and corn on the cob. Despite the lack of cutlery, he dug right into the food. Kerbasi had an amused look on his face as he shut the cell door.

  “No need to thank me or anything. I’ll return shortly to take away whatever is left. I’d recommend against eating the plate, though.”

  Lucas waved him off. His mouth was too full to make any sarcastic remarks.

  “Is he going to be bringing more for the rest of us?” Eli asked, eyeing Lucas’ food with interest.

  Good grief, the man hadn’t been here an hour yet and he was already acting like a starved prisoner.

  “No,” Bartol said. “The only way you get food around here is to fight for it and you won’t be here long enough for that.”

  Eli rested his forehead against the bars, as if that would help him see the nephilim in the cell next to him. “When was the last time you ate?”

  Bartol didn’t answer for a moment. “The guardian says it’s been at least six months. I lose track of time and can’t say for sure.”

  “Six months?” Eli asked. “But that’s too long!”

  Lucas stopped gnawing on the bone left from his steak. It probably bothered everyone to be able to smell his food and know he was eating, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying his meal. They wouldn’t feel bad doing the same if the roles were reversed.

  “There was a time when I went a year without food,” Lucas said, looking through the bars of his cell at the psychologist. “We can’t die from starvation and Kerbasi knows it.”

  “But it’s inhumane!”

  Clearly Eli thought human rights applied to this place. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone appalled at their new status. A prisoner could stay in denial for months until one day it hit them. Most withdrew into themselves the way Bartol had in an effort to cope. Lucas preferred fighting—somebody had to keep the guards on their toes.

  “You won’t be here long. There’s no point in getting stressed out about it. In fact,” Lucas smiled, “I doubt you’ll even experience enough to develop a case of PTSD.”

  Eli stared at him for a long moment. “Touché, my brother. Touché.”

  ***

  Complete silence reigned over the prisoners. Bartol had been brought back shortly before, after some quality time with Kerbasi. He was now concentrating on healing his latest wounds—which consisted of re-growing much of his skin below his neck. The guardian must have dumped him in a vat of hot oil and cooked him for the whole time he was gone. They’d had to carry him back afterward on a wooden board. Lucas knew from experience that it ranked right up there with being burnt alive.

  Footsteps reverberated down the tunnel. Kerbasi was coming back.

  Tension rose in the air as he drew closer to the cells and everyone wondered who would be next. When the guardian stopped in front of Eli, Lucas heard the audible sigh of relief come from Zoe. He didn’t think she’d ever adjust to the lifestyle here.

  “You wish to conduct your final session with Lucas, correct?” Kerbasi asked the psychologist.

  Eli kept his face neutral. “I do.”

  At least he managed to put on a brave front despite the horror he’d shown at seeing Bartol after his torture. Lucas had hoped Eli would get the full treatment, but almost a day had passed with the psychologist left intact. He should have known a guest wouldn’t have to endure as much as a regular prisoner.

  “Very well,” Kerbasi opened the cell door. “I have just the place where you two may talk freely and without interruption.”

  This should be interesting. Perhaps Eli wasn’t going to get off without a little taste of Purgatory life after all. Lucas climbed out of his own cell without needing any encouragement when the guardian came for him next. He wouldn’t mind enduring whatever discomfort Kerbasi had in mind if the psychologist would be there to experience it as well.

  The direction they took through the winding tunnels had him changing his mind. After several more turns, he cursed. Kerbasi turned his head and gave him a toothy grin.

  “Ah, you’ve already guessed my plan, nephilim?” he asked.

  Lucas stopped walking. “I thought you promised the shaman you wouldn’t put Melena through this again.”

  “Oh, not to worry.” He patted Lucas’ bare shoulder. “I gave him proper warning yesterday when he delivered your meal. He may not be happy about it, but he took the warning to mean he should keep a close watch on her for the next couple of days. Your little sensor should be fine.”

  “You bastard.” Lucas raised his manacled arms for an elbow strike to the guardian’s face. Kerbasi blocked it and shoved him against the wall.

  “I’d suggest you be very careful, nephilim. Your sojourn inside the hole will not be long, but if you fight me, I can leave you to rot in there whenever you’re not at court. Charlie only knows to watch her for now, but I can always fail to warn him next time.”

  Rage colored Lucas’ vision. It took everything he had to keep himself in check. He couldn’t risk Melena’s life just so he could beat the shit out of the guardian. If he’d known claiming her would cause this kind of trouble, he might not have done it. No, that wasn’t true. He was too selfish to not want to keep her for himself, no matter the risk. Lucas would have to suffer the consequences and pay whatever price to keep her from harm.

  He didn’t argue further when Kerbasi pulled him along. Another turn later and they arrived at the entrance for the black hole. Lucas kept his face impassive, pushing down all the emotions churning inside of him. Eli looked like he was holding it together, but a hint of worry creased his brow.

  “It’s normally not my policy to put two prisoners in here at the same time,” Kerbasi said, clasping his hands together, “but under the circumstances I think I can make an exception. The guards have reconfigured the room so the two of you may speak for an hour before we fully seal you inside. After that, I’d suggest you use the time for reflection.”

  Kerbasi shoved both men ins
ide and positioned them where he wanted them—facing each other about four feet apart. Neither Lucas nor Eli said a word, but the tension rose between them with every passing minute. Kerbasi extended their arms up and to the side to connect chains to their wrists. He moved for their legs next, spreading them apart before attaching the shackles. So long as they didn’t drop their weight, it was only slightly uncomfortable, but even immortals got tired of standing in such a position for long. Lucas had enough experience in the hole to know.

  “Ahh, that’s it.” Kerbasi studied them for a moment before heading for the exit. “Enjoy your talk, but remember to finish up in an hour because there will be no delays.”

  The heavy door screeched as the guardian shut it behind him. The air stayed, but not a trace of light remained. Who needed sunglasses to hide emotion when one could cover their feelings up in a dark hole instead? Eli might only be a few feet away, but Lucas couldn’t see him anymore. At least for an hour, this might be easier to handle than their walks on the beach. Kerbasi might rethink his plan if he knew that.

  “So this is the famed black hole?” the psychologist asked.

  Someone else must have mentioned it because Lucas sure as hell hadn’t.

  “The one and only,” he replied.

  “I must say this isn’t my preferred method for conducting a session.”

  Lucas would have shrugged if he could. “I’d love to tell you that you’ll get used to it, but you really won’t.”

  If he was honest, he’d admit he was almost enjoying his stay this time as he listened to Eli’s breathing become labored. It seemed the man didn’t know what to do about this turn of events. Lucas supposed he’d have to help him out and take his mind off of it while he could. Normally he wouldn’t be so generous, but maybe the psychologist would put an extra good word in for him if he opened up without having to be prompted. He had the ideal story to tell him, too.

  “Would you like to hear about the last year of my father’s life?” Lucas asked.

  Eli cleared his throat. “You’re volunteering to tell me? This should prove interesting.”

  At least the man hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

  “You might say that,” Lucas replied.

  “By all means, go ahead.” Eli’s voice came out stronger than before and his breathing evened out.

  “My brother and I were twenty-four years old when my father’s health took a turn for the worse. We’d become full-grown adults and probably could have struck out on our own, but Gadreel forced us to stay. Every time I tried to leave, he always found me soon after and dragged me back. There was no escaping him until then.”

  Lucas had done something similar to Melena by making her stay in Fairbanks. He’d never considered the parallel before, but it bothered him now to think he’d repeated the actions of his father with her. It was no wonder she fought him for so long. He’d done what he had to keep her safe, but he should have tried convincing her to stay instead of threatening her.

  Reasoning with people wasn’t his strong suit and might not ever be. As soon as he’d grown into his powers, he’d stopped bothering to try. He could manipulate most people into doing what he wanted, so why stoop to negotiating with them? Melena had been the first one he couldn’t control easily and he’d handled her badly as a result. They’d only begun to work out their differences when he’d been brought to Purgatory.

  “So you were forced to stay with him even as an adult?” Eli prompted.

  Lucas had grown quiet with his musings. He took a deep breath and made himself return to the topic.

  “In that last year he was alive, his body deteriorated rapidly. It seemed he aged a decade for every month that passed. I can’t say what all the ailments were that afflicted him, but I recognize now arthritis was the first. He got where he could do very little for himself. My brother played nursemaid for much of that time, but as things grew worse Gadreel became more difficult. It was rather ironic, considering he had healing powers but couldn’t use them on himself.”

  “You stayed to watch?”

  “Not exactly,” Lucas said. “I left for weeks at a time, looking for places where my brother and I could begin new lives. All I wanted was to get far away from the problems we’d faced. The ability to use glamour and compulsion didn’t come until centuries later. We had to do everything the hard way back then.”

  “Wait,” Eli interrupted. “What do you mean centuries later? I thought most nephilim gained compulsion early on. That was my experience, anyway.”

  Lucas let out an ironic laugh. “That’s because you didn’t have an asshole for a father who did all he could to make your life difficult even after he was gone. When Gadreel agreed to stay on earth and raise us, he asked that our powers be bound for the first five centuries of our lives. The only things we retained were our immortality, growing strength and healing abilities. Everything else, we had to wait for.”

  “I hadn’t realized that could be done, but can see how it would have made things trickier. When did you finally leave your father for good?” Eli asked.

  “I found a place close to the sea and jobs my brother and I could work. It took a while to arrange it all and by the time I came back, Gadreel was bedridden. He could barely speak anymore, but when he did it was only to curse us. Micah had finally reached his limit and stopped doing anything for him.”

  Lucas paused, thinking back over that time. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get some pleasure over watching his father suffer.

  “Gadreel eventually broke, begging us for mercy, but we ignored him. He was still stronger than he looked and it wasn’t until a fever hit him that his body gave up the fight. We built a large bonfire afterward and tossed his body into it. He’d wanted to be buried. It was the last bit of revenge we could get.”

  Well, there had been that one other bit of revenge, but Lucas wasn’t going to give the psychologist the whole story. He didn’t need to know everything.

  Eli said nothing for a few minutes. “Have you ever felt regret over letting him die like that?”

  “The only regret I’ve ever had is that he didn’t suffer more.” Lucas had seen many worse ways to die since then and wished his father could have had one of those instead.

  “Are you always going to let those early years dictate how you live?” Eli’s question struck a chord, though his tone wasn’t accusatory.

  “I assume you want an honest answer,” Lucas said.

  “That’d be preferable.”

  He could have told the psychologist what he wanted to hear. It would have been the wise thing to do, but in the darkness of the tomb he didn’t want to hold back from the truth. The lies you tell others don’t do near the damage as the ones you tell yourself. That much he knew for certain.

  Lucas couldn’t see a thing, but he still looked up—as if that would somehow make answering Eli’s question easier. “I’m not sure I can ever change. I’ve lived my whole life thinking and behaving the way I do because it suited my purposes. It helped me to survive. But there are some things I’ve begun to see differently. How much that might play into my future…I have no idea.”

  There. He’d said what he believed. The psychologist could do what he wanted with the information—there’d be no taking it back.

  A groan came over the tomb and with a whoosh the air got sucked out of him. He didn’t fight it, knowing that would only make it worse. The psychologist must have tried to hold it because he coughed a couple times before the silence took over. They might be in there together, but the only thing that gave them away was the slow beating of their hearts.

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is the final session where we will be hearing arguments on the case against Lucas of Pistiros,” Remiel said, looking toward the judges from where he stood at the front of the table. “Though we’ve received the psychologist’s report, I have asked Eli of Gao to be here as well should you have any further questions for him.”

  Lucas followed Remiel’s line of sight. Eli ent
ered the courtroom from the same side chamber he’d come from during the first session—this time wearing a navy blue suit. He didn’t look any worse for wear after his ordeal in the black hole. Lucas had to give the younger nephilim credit. He’d come out of the tomb seeming fine, despite his initial nervousness, and even praised Kerbasi for the lack of rats in the place. The guardian had responded he’d look into getting some.

  That had been hours ago. Long enough for Lucas to be taken back to his cell and forced to listen to Zoe’s screams after Kerbasi took her away. Not that the guardian had actually tortured the woman this time. Her shrieking had more to do with the haircut he’d given her. It would take the rest of her stay in Purgatory to grow it back out. For now, it stuck up in irregular spikes all over her head—and she was missing part of her ear. Lucas had consoled her that the ear wouldn’t take more than a day to grow back. She’d not been amused.

  “Lucas of Pistiros,” Remiel moved toward him, “it appears that you do in fact have PTSD due to distressing events during your childhood. We suspected this, but Eli’s findings confirmed it. Your cooperation during your last two sessions with him is the only reason we aren’t proceeding straight to your sentencing. First, we must determine whether or not you’ll be a danger to human society in the future should we allow you out again someday. Keep that in mind as we begin our final round of questioning.”

  He should have known they’d diagnose him with that after revealing the things he did. Never mind that two and a half millennia had passed since those traumatic events. Lucas didn’t appreciate being labeled with a psychological disorder, but if it kept him alive he’d live with it. He had to remember to look at the big picture and ignore the smaller matters. Let them think what they will.

  Lucas nodded at the archangel. “I understand.”

  “Good. Then I’ll open the floor for questions.” Remiel moved back over to the table and took a seat. “Zadkiel may begin.”

  The blond archangel stood and stretched his wings behind him. “We are aware allowing your father to raise you didn’t work out as well as we’d hoped. But it wasn’t until you confessed your experiences that we understood the full ramifications.”