***
Marcus watched the fight via the house’s many hidden cameras and couldn’t deny being engrossed by the little show his two favourite women had put on for him. He’d never seen Marcella lash out like that before, not when she had only to click her fingers and render any foe powerless. With an entire magical arsenal in her back pocket to readily use on any whom she’d faced in the past, his Priestess was a formidable adversary. But with Wynter, she’d been careful. And he knew why. Yes, her daughter’s life had given his bride an unending source of strength and she hadn’t wanted to jeopardise things, but there was more than that.
His most loyal subject knew Marcus would make her pay for daring to hurt his wife. They had burned too many bridges to get her back, and in spite of his once dark urges, he himself hadn’t laid a finger on Wynter since she’d returned to him. Mind games aside, he’d done nothing but love her, and so knew that this time he would not stand for anyone daring to do otherwise.
The Priestess came directly to his office without needing to be called, where she paced up and down in front of his desk, visibly shaking with rage. She knew she’d done wrong, and it was clear she thought he’d show mercy because of her honesty.
“My lady,” he ground.
“My lord… please forgive me…”
“What possessed you to think I would forgive you for hurting and imprisoning my wife?”
“She lacks discipline,” she tried, but Marcus was having none of it. He stood and stormed towards her, closing the gap effortlessly. Once there, he wrapped Marcella in his arms, like a father might do his daughter. But the pair of them were far from it. She bristled and he could sense her panic begin to rise. And rightly so.
“As do you,” he whispered, his mouth pressed right against her ear. “You must be punished for your insolence, child.”
“Do what you must, but please don’t harm the baby,” she pleaded, and Marcus leaned back to stare down into her soft face resolutely.
“I would never, ever harm her,” he demanded, “which is why your husband will suffer the punishment in your stead. You must learn your place, my lady.”
As if on cue, Jack arrived at the doorway to Marcus’s office, where he stood awkwardly in wait for his master’s orders. The vampire had summoned him without needing to say a word, and as Jack looked inside expectantly, Marcus could tell he already sensed that things were not right.
“Mr Cole?” Jack croaked, looking paler by the second.
Marcus didn’t even reply. He sent silent word to his alpha soldier, who followed his order to drag the man outside and string him up beneath the branches of the sturdiest tree. This happened to be the old oak Wynter had found her solace in, but from now on it was going to serve another purpose. Any and all who defied his orders or did something worthy of punishment were going to suffer the same fate as Jack, and it was going to be a public shame they would not easily live down.
The alpha knew exactly what Marcus wanted. A just and torturous punishment for his Priestess’s emissary. Pain he would feel rattling through his bones long after it was over with, and a torture she would feel even though she was not the one enduring it.
Marcus dragged Marcella outside after them, and soon a small crowd also began to form. With the skill of a true sadist, they all watched as the alpha bound Jack’s arms behind him and then fashioned a simple pulley, which he used to lift the human up off the ground from behind.
He screamed and writhed, but was soon rendered speechless with fear when the bones began to twist behind him. Jack knew this would not end until Marcus was ready. And he knew by his master’s devious smile that something terrible was yet to come.
Marcus made Marcella watch along with the other Supervisors as Jack’s shoulders popped out in turn with a tremendous crack. Each dislocated from their sockets thanks to the weight of him dragging his body down towards the ground, while the ropes kept his arms at his back so meant he could not escape the torture for even a second. It was an oldie but a goodie—Strappado. One of his favourites from the dark days, and Marcus revelled in the heady air as those he’d summoned outside watched on in both fascination and horror.
Jack cried in agony just once more before he then passed out from the pain, and as tense silence descended, Marcus luxuriated in the fear and apprehension he could sense from those around him. The Supervisors each felt terrible for Jack, but were also glad it wasn’t them up there. His lesson was a warning to them all, and one which was readily heeded.
He loved it. This sense of power and magnificence. It was high time he got back to his old ways. No more Mr Nice Guy.
“Your husband will hang here for twenty-four hours. Do not attempt to help or free him. Offend me again and it’ll be a week, understood?” he growled in his Priestess’s ear.
“Yes, my lord,” she whimpered back, tears rolling down her pale face as she stared up at the man she loved in dismay.
Thirteen
Wynter was still pacing her small office when the door swung open and Marcus strode inside with a satisfied smile on his face. At first she thought he’d enjoyed having allowed her a small period of imprisonment, but soon realised there was a wholly different reason for his delight.
“Marcella has paid for her insubordination,” he informed her, coming closer with great haste. Wynter backed up, trying to keep a clear head, but was soon overshadowed by his immense frame and suddenly felt tiny against him. Was he growing, or was it that she had transfigured smaller than before? She was sure she’d been taller when human, but now was slim and petite, her eyes barely reaching his chest. When had this become a thing? She wondered, but at the same time, Wynter liked it. And so did he. Marcus lifted her into his arms with ease and pinned her to the wall behind, his mouth trailing kisses up her neck and to her face. She melted against him, like always, and felt her heart begin to race. Damn, this witch adored him. Not her, or so she was still telling herself. Never.
“My lord, please put a stop to this…” a timid voice chimed from the doorway, and with a growl Marcus let Wynter back down onto her feet and then stepped away.
“You slighted me, Marcella. That means he slighted me too. His punishment will not end and you will not make any steps to help, is that understood?” he demanded, and for the first time Wynter saw the Priestess properly cower before her master. She felt terrible for her, and for Jack, but knew she could not intervene. Marcus would never allow it, and so all they could do was ride out whatever punishment he had decided was fit. “He will endure, as will you. He will learn, as will you.”
Marcella was nodding her head profusely, tears streaming down her soft face, and she too looked tiny against him. Small and slim, just like Wynter had become. And just like her daughter would’ve undoubtedly been as well.
It was strange, as if the witch was affecting her decision making in smaller, seemingly insignificant ways. Wynter didn’t like it. Mara’s heart was strong, perhaps strong enough to do more than give her power and strength, and losing herself to the whims of a child was not where she wanted this immortal future to take her. She knew she had to be tougher, more resilient to those desires raging within her.
Marcus dismissed his Priestess and then turned back to his wife, and Wynter couldn’t help but smile over at him as a rush of gratification swept over her.
“You avenged my honour,” she guessed, and Marcus shrugged coyly.
“No one raises a hand to you, my sweet. Not even her,” he answered.
It was the nicest thing he had ever done for her, and there was no way she was going to let such a milestone pass them by without celebration.
It was her turn to thrust him against the wall and kiss every inch of him she could reach, and without a care in the world she was soon tearing his clothes away, desperate to have her way with him.
***
Archie stood staring into his open closet with a frown. It was full at last. After all these months of him pretty much living in the same few pairs of trackies, it was now filled
to the brim with a heap of new items. And all thanks to his quiet and brooding, yet also insanely generous, benefactor.
He’d unpacked the last of Rosa’s baby bits with her a few days before, only to then find another set of bags at the back of the pile. Ones that weren’t for their newest outcast or her baby, but were instead for him. There was a complete new wardrobe in there. Everything he needed and more, and the extras. A watch that’d easily cost a thousand pounds for starters. Brodie had gone all out to give Archie some incredible gifts, and if he were honest, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Part of him wanted to tell the jinni no. To tell him he had to send them back because he didn’t need them. But the look on his face as Archie had opened them had said it all, and he knew he couldn’t refuse his generosity.
Brodie said very little when it came to opening up. He’d given Archie snippets here and there about his past and the darkness that had driven him all these years, but not all that much. He and Rosa hardly talked at all, and yet he had gone above and beyond to provide her with the very best he could get her. Brodie had shown he cared, even if he couldn’t say it.
And it felt to him like the same went for these gifts he’d picked up for Archie while he’d been at it. The clothes were sporting labels he’d never been able to afford before, and Brodie hadn’t bought them to show off. There was no one on the island to show off to. No, Archie felt as if it was far more than him splashing the cash and buying his new boyfriend something pretty. It was his way of saying he cared. That he felt something he didn’t know how to express with words.
He turned at the sound of his bedroom door opening, and found Brodie standing in the doorway, watching him with a barely hidden look of worry.
“I love you, too,” Archie told him with a smile.
Brodie let out a sigh and started to laugh.
“That obvious, huh?” he asked, and came closer. When he reached him, he gathered Archie up into his arms and looked down into his face with a strange look of wonder on his own.
“You look like you’re seeing me for the first time?” he whispered, and placed his palm against Brodie’s black-skinned cheek.
“I think I am. Those words change everything, Archie. It’s like you’re saving my life with every moment you accept me into yours. I’d do anything for you. Anything,” he demanded.
“Then say it,” Archie whimpered, feeling incredibly naked all of a sudden.
“I love you…”
“Good, because there’s no going back now. You know that, right?”
“I don’t want to, and to prove it, I’m taking you on a date,” Brodie answered, his smile returning. “A real date. On the mainland. Rosalie’s fine and Rafferty can call me if he needs us to come back.”
It was Archie’s turn to laugh, but he didn’t say no. He’d wanted this for a while now and was beyond ready to go and enjoy whatever the closest town or city had to offer them.
“But I don’t have a stitch to wear,” he teased, thinking one of the new shirts Brodie had bought would be ideal, but it appeared he’d planned everything. Even his ensemble for the evening.
Brodie pointed down at a box that Archie knew without a doubt had not been in his room before, and once the pair of them finally let one another go, he went to it with a coy smile. Maybe he was getting better at accepting gifts after all.
Inside the perfectly shaped and ridiculously heavy box sat a stunningly tailored tweed jacket and matching waistcoat. Archie had described such an outfit to Rafferty once as they’d sat watching one of their box-sets. He’d remarked on the main character’s style and how he’d liked many of his outfits, such as a jacket and waistcoat combo exactly like the set he was now staring down at. “You remembered?” he remarked, thinking how Brodie hadn’t even appeared to be listening at the time.
“I remember everything, foolish human,” he teased, but Archie didn’t take his banter to heart.
“I love them,” he replied, and made quick work of trying the outfit on with a white shirt from his closet. The greys and blacks in the tweed matched his skin tone perfectly, and he knew he too would’ve chosen those colours over the typical browns. And then, of course, the pair were the perfect fit. “How did you get the measurements right?”
Brodie answered him with a coy shrug at first, but then spilled the beans when Archie pressed him.
“I transformed into your exact height and shape,” he replied, “I know it’s probably weird me changing, but I needed it to be perfect. And so I walked into the tailors as close to your size as could be so that he could fit me with something which would fit like a glove. Are you pleased?”
“I truly am,” Archie answered, and then he checked his watch. It was already getting late, and he wanted to have as much time as possible on their date so wanted to get going sooner than later. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be good to go, okay?”
“Okay,” Brodie replied, and then left him to get ready.
He met him by the front door in less than ten minutes, and found Brodie dressed in nothing less than perfection. Archie had always envied his ability to dress himself magically, but tonight was different. Gone was his own sportswear and in its place was Brodie’s equal. A well-dressed young man ready to wine and dine.
Archie’s smiled faltered when Brodie led him out into the hall and turned right. He didn’t know why he’d expected to turn left and out the cave as always, when the boat he’d bought to bring everything back from the mainland was clearly going to be moored down below. There was a dock Brodie had told him had been built hundreds of years previously by pirates who had used the island to hoard their wares. So of course, the only way down to it was through the tunnels beneath them.
But he hadn’t been down there since what’d happened. Since the sounds of scurrying bodies had come up through those same tunnels. From the time when their fortress had been invaded by thousands of hideous vampire soldiers. And since his friend had lost his life to their master.
“Brodie,” he gulped, looking down into the darkness below.
He seemed confused at first, but then a look of realisation crossed his face and the jinni frowned.
“This is the only way down,” he told Archie, “but if you can’t do it, we’ll try another time. We can have a picnic under the stars instead?” he offered, and while he appreciated the gesture, Archie shook his head no.
“I need to do this, but might need a stiff drink once it’s over with,” he joked, trying to make light of the situation.
“You’ll get one, and maybe we’ll raise a glass to Jakob while we’re at it,” Brodie answered, and his sentiment brought a tear to Archie’s eye. They’d had some serious ups and downs, but in the end Brodie hadn’t wanted the vampire assassin to die, he could tell.
Without another word he then led the way, and the pair of them began the slow and steady descent to the dock with just a battery-powered lantern to light the way.
When they reached the small opening where the cells lay, Archie swallowed the lump that leapt up into his throat at the sight of the door hanging open, the key still in the lock from when Brodie had released Jakob in order to let him run from the horde with them. On the floor were the shattered remains of the coffee mug Archie had dropped, and he bent down to pick up a shard before tossing it away.
“Did he fight till the end?” he asked his companion, and Brodie nodded.
“He honoured his soul mate and refused to let go, even when death had him in her grasp.”
“And what happened to his body?”
“Rafferty burned the pieces and then buried the ashes beneath the trunk of the oldest tree on this island,” the jinni answered, and then hissed when he realised what awful detail he’d accidentally just given away. Jakob had left this world in pieces? Archie could think of nothing worse than being torn apart like that. It must’ve been awful. “He was given a warriors farewell, Archie. The highest accolade for any immortal creature,” Brodie assured him, but he wasn’t sure whether it comforted him or not.
“And Wynter? How did she not die along with him?” he asked, and realised then how he hadn’t been told all that much about what’d actually gone down that day. In fact, he hadn’t asked because he hadn’t wanted to know. But now he needed to. He owed it to his friend, and to Wynter. She was his friend too after all.
“The Priestess’s magic was too strong for even the merging of two souls to overcome, and in the end, she gave Wynter something far more precious. She encased her within an impenetrable magic circle and gave her a heart—a witch’s heart—and in doing so saw to it that she could never die. Not even when her soul mate passed over,” he revealed, and Archie scowled.
“We’re gonna get him, right?” he replied resolutely as he stood and went back to Brodie’s side. “Promise me Marcus is gonna pay for what he did?”
“He will,” Brodie replied with a frown, and then he took Archie’s hands in his and stared down into his eyes. “But you cannot live your life fuelled by hate or driven by vengeance. Trust me…”
He knew exactly what the jinni was getting at. Brodie had lived that way for a thousand years and had wasted all that time, when he ought to have grieved the loss of his wife and found a way to move on without her. Archie would waste his life too if he refused to let go of the past, and he nodded in understanding.
“I won’t, I promise.”
They were down through the tunnels and to the dock a few minutes later, and the moment he saw the little boat that was their new link to the outside world, Archie felt better. They were going to the mainland. Going to enjoy a night out just the two of them. A date. A real fucking date.
He didn’t stop smiling the entire journey across.
When they reached the small marina on the other side, Brodie took care of everything, and Archie watched him move in awe. He did the work of ten men to get them properly moored up, and when he was done, he reached for Archie’s hand and then actually kept hold rather than shy away from the public display of affection. He even held on as the pair of them walked up towards the bright lights of the town ahead, and Archie adored watching Brodie come further out the closet with every step they took.
Even in Death Page 12
