by Shaw, Leia
“We have to go slow or your body will reject it,” he told her.
Fuck that. She wanted it now. But a part of her knew she needed her strength. Throwing up food because she ate too fast was a waste of an opportunity.
“Next question,” Maddox said. This time he tore off a bite of bread. “When were we best friends?”
“As children.” She opened her mouth.
He hesitated then popped it in. “How old?”
Still chewing, she answered, “We were six. I lived with my family in the village and you lived nearby in Caerwyn. I found you wandering by Green Willow Stream. I was hunting frogs and I saw a little boy crying over by a tree.”
“Crying?”
She tried not to laugh at his offended expression. “Just a little. You’d never been on your own before. You must’ve gotten lost. It’s understandable.”
“Hmm.” He kept the scowl as he fed her more from the spoon. “Keep going.”
After swallowing, she went on. “I didn’t know what to do with a crying boy so I handed you the bullfrog I was holding.” At that, she chuckled. “I don’t even know how I managed to carry it. It was as big as my head.”
A hint of a smile flickered on his face then disappeared. He gave her another small bite of bread. “And what did I do when you handed me the frog?” His tone suggested he was humoring her.
The rest of the memory was blurry but she’d never forget this part. “I said you could have him if you stopped crying. You grinned up at me and said, ‘It’s the best present I ever got!’ At the time, I thought your life must be pretty sad if your best gift was a frog.” She laughed, looked at Maddox, and sighed. It was him but someone else at the same time. The little boy who adored frog hunting and swimming and laughing was in there somewhere, right?
“I hate frogs,” he murmured.
His harsh tone snapped her from the memory. “You didn’t used to. In fact, you named that frog Mud.”
“Mud?” His scowl returned. “What a terrible name.”
She rolled her eyes. “It was a frog and you were six.” Her stomach rumbled. “Can I have more?”
He stared down at her, arms crossed and, for a moment, she thought Inkman had returned, cruel and angry. “Yes.” With an evil glint in his eye, he picked up the bowl. “It’s gotten cold. I’ll warm it for you.” A ball of green light burst into his palm, making her flinch. He held her gaze as he moved his hand close to her face.
Scorching heat radiated from the bright light. She leaned back as far as she could. He moved closer, letting the blue flame lick toward her skin. Prickles of pain spread across her nose and cheeks. She remembered watching him learn to control his power when he was young, and being so amazed at how quickly he’d mastered it.
But now his cruel smirk told her that her Maddox was nowhere near the surface. Not yet.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, stop.” Would begging please him or annoy him? A harsh burn made her squeak in pain. “You’re hurting me!”
The light disappeared. She exhaled a breath of relief. Chest heaving, she stared at the floor. She pushed back the tears that threatened to show her fear, her weakness. He’d used his magic – a Bolt – to hurt her. And he was capable of worse.
A chunk of chicken sat on the spoon held out in front of her. It took a moment to pull herself together. Maddox waited. Slowly, watching him carefully, she opened her mouth and let him feed her another bite.
“How long were we friends?” he asked.
“Our entire childhood. Until you turned twenty and…” Sadness crept in. “And you went away.”
The table creaked as he shifted his weight. “Went away where?”
She pursed her lips and kept her head down. It was too hard to say. She felt like she was choking on tar. He waited. Silence dragged on.
“Went away where?” he said more firmly.
When she still refused to answer, he tilted her head up with his fingers. She looked straight into his eyes. “Until you came here and lost your soul.”
FELICITY: Leave there, Maddi. Join the rebellion. We’ll protect you.
MADDOX: Nothing can save me. Especially not an idealistic girl and her ragtag group of weaponless soldiers. Move on now, Felicity. Before you get hurt.
Email exchange, August 2003
Her skin felt good against his fingers – soft, feminine. The dimple in the middle of her chin beckoned his lips. Hesitantly, he moved his hand from her chin toward her cheek.
Despite her soft skin, her words stung. She thought him soulless? So did everyone else, including himself. But for some reason, it bothered him that she did.
“You used to do this all the time,” she whispered. Her eyes closed as she leaned into his palm. “You’d put your thumb there and stroke my cheek. Then you’d lean in to kiss me and I’d duck.” Her soft chuckle gave him a rush unlike he’d ever felt.
He yanked his hand away. What the hell was he doing? He’d come in with every intention of breaking her and here he was caressing her face. Her delicate, beautiful face. Even with dark circles under her eyes and a fat lip, she was still gorgeous.
Fuck!
Maybe he needed to get laid. It had been a while. Maybe he could convince a girl from town to give him a quick fuck tonight. That would clear his head.
He rose from the table. “While those memories are nice, they aren’t of me. I was raised here in Marwolaeth Du. I was a child of the Council. I ate, drank, and slept with the soldiers.”
She shook her head. “You skipped lessons and snuck me into the city. Then we played hide-and-seek and stole Welsh cakes from the bakery.”
“No. I memorized drills before I was not much taller than this table. I started combat training at age eleven.”
“We had stick fights on Baylor’s Bridge. You’d let me win and pretend to die a terrible death.”
“I spent my nights listening to the Generals talk of war.”
“You liked to hear me sing.”
“I loved order…discipline.”
“You loved me.”
He flinched. She stared him down, pure determination in her eyes. Who was this woman, this small thing, helplessly tied with her hands behind her back, bruised and tired, that claimed so boldly that he’d loved her? Love a shifter? It was impossible. None of her story matched with his. But then, part of him wanted to believe it.
He scoffed. As if he ever played hide-and-seek and chased frogs. Frivolous games meant for silly children. No. He was a man of the Council.
“You’re wrong. And the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
She heaved a defeated sigh and dropped her gaze.
Despite a sad ache deep down in his chest, he wanted to hurt her. His sadistic side came to the fore. He wanted to cause her as much pain as she was causing him. Fucking heart-wrenching pain. With a sneer, he told her, “We have the rest of your team.”
Her head snapped up. “You do?”
“They’re being just as stubborn as you are. I can see you don’t care about your own well-being, but do you care for your friends’?”
Despair grew in her eyes. Ah. Her weakness. She did care.
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
Smart too. “They wouldn’t give their names. But one,” he thought back to the descriptions his men had given of the shifters who’d gotten away, “has black hair. Tall.” It was one of their leaders so he took an educated guess. “A stern look.”
Her eyes widened in a look of recognition and he almost smiled. “Don’t hurt him! I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Rage stabbed his chest, replacing the dull ache. The sudden intensity startled him but he was beyond caring. She would protect this man? Who was he to her? Did she care for him – have feelings for him? He wanted to pound this stranger – kill him.
Fuck. He was losing it. With a deep breath, he pulled himself together. “Good. Now tell me everything about the rebellion.”
To his surprise, she launched into a detailed a
ccount of their plans. Suspicion rose. It was too easy, but he’d give her the benefit of the doubt for now and verify everything later. As she spoke, he took mental notes of every fact, every particularity she told him. Then his thoughts began to drift. His attention shifted to her mouth – pale lips from dehydration. Still, they drew him in. He pictured his tongue sliding across her bottom lip then pulling it gently into his mouth. His eyes slowly shut. Her sweet voice lulled him into a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.
Muscles relaxed. Tension drained from where he held it in his shoulders.
“…Adfer Falls.”
His eyes flew open. He recognized this name. A vision came, distant but clear. A pool surrounded by mossy rocks. A chute of water that ended in a grand waterfall. Him. Swimming, laughing, cajoling a girl on the bank to come in. It was like watching a movie that he’d starred in but couldn’t remember making.
That couldn’t be right. The vision shifted from him to the bank and he recoiled – his mind flew out of the vision and back to the present. The interrogation room. The broken girl he’d just seen laughing and full of life on the bank of a waterfall.
His heart pounded, each beat reverberating in his skull. Felicity had stopped talking but he wasn’t sure when. Had he even heard most of what she’d said? Blue eyes, the color of the falls, gazed up at him – scared, helpless. His arms ached to wrap around her.
He slammed his fist into the table. She flinched. The table cracked. Blood flowed from his knuckles. He barely felt it.
Fuck. This was killing him. He needed off this assignment. Maybe his father would let Traven take over.
Those eyes. They continued to stare, desperate and pleading. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a growl, he pushed away from the table so hard it almost fell over. Felicity shrunk back. He paced an angry path across the room. What should he do? She’d given him answers. Wasn’t that what he was here for? Shouldn’t he be pleased he’d won?
His father would be calling for him soon. He’d want to know what Maddox had gotten from her. This was his job, his one duty. This was what he did. He hurt people. He manipulated them. He broke them. Why did he want to put this one back together?
Now he was the one feeling broken. He’d lost control several times since meeting this girl. He never lost control. But this scrawny, insignificant, helpless…thing had fucked with his head.
Maddox fucked with his victim’s heads, not the other way around. And now he couldn’t remember a word she’d said except for fucking Adfer Falls, which meant something to him but, at the same time, nothing at all. He stopped pacing and went for the door.
The echo of his footsteps down the hall toward his office sounded angry even to him. After throwing open the door, he grabbed a paper and pen and stormed back to the interrogation room.
He took the key from his pocket and uncuffed her, then shoved the paper and pen at her. “Write it down. Everything you just said.”
Using the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth. She looked up at him but didn’t take the pen.
“Now!”
With a start, she grabbed the pen and started writing. Her fingers trembled as she filled the paper. He didn’t look at the words – he just watched her. Limp hair hung over her eyes and he itched to push it back so he could see her face. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead.
Small sighs and soft breaths were the only sounds in the room. Again the urge to protect nagged at him. A deep breath pushed that away.
“There,” she said then placed the pen on the table. “That’s everything.”
He looked down. She’d filled both sides of the paper with her handwriting. Somehow it managed to look cute and girly. What the fuck? It was handwriting, for fuck’s sake!
“Mad –” She stopped her mistake then swallowed hard. “Sir. Are they okay? My friends… You didn’t…” Her voice trailed as she stared at the floor.
Maddox grabbed her chin and tilted her head up. “Their survival depends on you, shifter. Remember that.”
He took the paper off the table and walked out of the room. Outside, he maintained his mask of confidence. He had names, places, information from the girl that would help their cause. He’d accomplished his task. It was a victory so why did he feel like he’d lost?
In his office, he was alone with his thoughts. He gazed at what she’d written on the paper, but couldn’t focus. All he could see was her hand trembling as she wrote. After giving his head a shake, he tried again. This time he searched for clues about the girl. Who was she? Were these places where she’d grown up? Were they names of friends and family? Was one of them a lover? He couldn’t bear the thought. He barely managed not to crumple the paper in frustration.
Instead, he lifted the office phone receiver. “Send Arden in please,” he told the receptionist from central office.
Minutes later, the young officer walked into his office. “Yes, sir.”
Maddox looked him over. How much could he trust the officer with? For some reason, handing over something so personal, information written in her handwriting, felt like handing over something precious. Ridiculous. Get your head on straight, Maddox!
He held out the paper. “I need this information verified.”
“Yes, sir.” Arden took the paper but his gaze remained on Maddox, waiting for more instruction.
“This is top priority. I need any information you can get on that,” he pointed to the paper, “as quickly as possible.”
“No problem. I’ll have it back in twenty-four hours.”
He nodded. “Very good.” With a dismissive wave at the soldier, he went back to staring at Felicity’s open file.
Alone again, he thought back to the interrogation session. Adfer Falls. The feeling of familiarity grew until, finally, he decided to look for the place to find what secrets it held. Disguising himself only took a minute. He was one of the most talented sorcerers in Caerwyn when it came to glamour. Magic flowed through him as he grew out a full head of blond hair, made his body leaner, and covered the tattoos on his arms and chest.
With a baseball cap pulled down low, he could pass as the runner – the man who rode from Caerwyn to Marwolaeth Du to pass packages back and forth. What was his name? Bane. The guards were used to seeing him come and go in civilian clothing.
He changed out of his uniform and into a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt – clothing he hadn’t worn in years. Even on his days off, which were few and far between, he normally stayed in uniform. But this trip would go smoother if he didn’t stand out.
He stared in the small mirror on the wall, feeling awkward and stiff. The head full of hair was itchy. The clothing made him feel vulnerable and weak. It was illogical – he knew he was still a solider of the light – but it felt strange just the same. The final touch was the cap, which hid the imperfections he may have missed with the glamour. It was hard to get an exact match, but he hoped nobody paid too much attention to him.
Using a back entrance most people didn’t know about, he walked down the four flights of stairs to the ground level of the prison. His security card swiped at the door got him through the exit and onto a precarious cliff in the windy afternoon.
The prison had been built on a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by a drop to a stormy sea at least a hundred feet down. It was magically shrouded from humans so they didn’t stumble upon it. That it sat in an uninhabited part of Wales helped too.
He gazed at the black ocean, crashing angrily against the rocks. Wind whipped his new hair around his face and he pushed it back. Staying close to the building, he walked the perimeter until he reached the final security gate. A wall, hundreds of feet high, guarded twenty-four-seven by soldiers. No one got into Marwolaeth Du who wasn’t supposed to, and enemies certainly didn’t get out.
He climbed the ladder that brought him to the top of the wall. The top resembled crenellated parapet walls, leftover from medieval castle designs. There was room enough for a soldier to walk, move weapons, defend th
e place if needed, though they hadn’t been attacked in over a hundred years. Or so he’d been told. Maddox was on the young side for his rank. But his rank had more to do with his father’s position in the Sorcery Council than actual skill – though he had that too.
He nodded to a couple of the guards as he walked to the final stairwell. Two more security doors then he was on the other side. He took the folded map he’d grabbed before he’d left out of his pocket and opened it. When he had an idea of which way to start, he folded it again and slipped it back in his pocket. The garage of military vehicles sat to the right, also heavily guarded. He scanned his badge at the garage door then took a motorbike from the compound and headed into the woods.
The small bike handled well over the rough terrain. If he were the type to take enjoyment in something, it would be this – off-roading on a cloudy afternoon. For some reason, it was always cloudy at Marwolaeth Du. There was a peace about the forest he rarely found elsewhere. How long had it been since he’d left the prison? How long since he’d breathed fresh air?
He smiled despite himself. The map was unneeded. He knew how to get to the falls, whether by instinct or memorizing the map, he wasn’t sure. The closer he got to the location, the stronger the pull. Memories invaded him. Running through the woods with a flashlight. Singing. Bare feet in the moss. He tried to push them away. Twisting the handgrip, he rode faster, hoping to leave the visions behind.
The terrain became too rough for the bike so he stopped and continued on foot. The scent of water filled the air. Stale though. Not fresh. And he couldn’t hear the sound of rushing water. Following the scent and his own instincts, he climbed over roots and boulders, his heart pounding harder and harder each moment. Anticipation shot through him. But why? Why this random place a stranger mentioned? Were these memories his or some kind of trick?
The trees thinned as he approached a clearing. A dried-up basin with a rock bottom greeted him. Above it, a chute that looked like it had once been alive with fresh water, moss, and plants now sat desolate and ignored. This was not how he’d pictured it.
