by H. D. Gordon
Charlie shook his head. “Causin' trouble, I s’ppose.”
“Have you any theories about what happened in the bar? Any theories about all of this?”
Charlie was silent for a moment, wondering just what to tell the Defender. Certainly not about the princess, but Jude needed to know some things if he was going to help him. “The Black Stone is missin', Jude,” Charlie said.
Jude’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, the fat fingers of his right hand coming up as if cover it, and then settling back to his side as though he’d realized this was a feminine gesture. “How do you know that?”
Charlie shrugged. “Been rumored,” he said, avoiding the question. “And you saw that stone they pulled off Brad Milner. It was a fragment of the Black Stone. The princess said so herself, so it must be true.”
Jude took a moment to take this all in. “How could that be possible?” he wondered aloud. “The Black Stone cannot leave the Dark Mountain, and that place is guarded better than the king’s castle.”
Again, Charlie shrugged and spread his hands. Your guess is as good as mine.
“Could your brother have anything to do with this?”
“I wouldn’t put it past’em.”
“Then you’re in deep shit here, Chuck.”
“Yeah, you told me that.”
Jude stood from his seat and began pacing the room, his head lowered and fingers rubbing his chin as he thought. “Do we know when it went missing?”
“Recently, I would assume,” Charlie said.
“Then we need alibis. Do you have anyone who can attest to your whereabouts for the past few days?”
Charlie considered. “I’m at the bar durin' workin hours, other than that I spend most of my time alone.”
Jude bit his bottom lip and stopped pacing, looking directly at Charlie with his sharp black eyes. “Is there anything else I should know, Chuck?”
Charlie shook his head without hesitation. Anything he should know? What, like how the princess had given him a royal stone nine hundred years ago, and how he had used it to kill Milner before Milner could kill him? Or how Lady Nightborn had come to the bar to hit on him? Or how he was in love with the highest born woman in the land, who also happened to be the Keeper on a murder case where he was obviously the prime suspect?
No, there wasn’t anything else Jude Flyer should know. In fact, there wasn’t anything else anyone should know.
CHAPTER 13
Thirty minutes later there was a knock on the front door of Charlie’s cabin, and he could tell by the demanding sound of it that it was Theodine Gray doing the knocking. Jude went over to the door and opened it, and sure enough there stood the Head Hunter, the princess standing quietly at his side. She entered first, her face an expressionless mask, as though she had not just been here an hour ago and warned Charlie of what was coming next. Charlie wondered how much more of her he could see without breaking his own blank face as staring at her outright.
She came to a stop in front of him, her eyes betraying nothing, her cloak flowing around her slim shoulders like black water. “Mr. Redmine,” she said, “We’re taking you into custody pending the investigation of the murders of Merin Nightborn and Brad Milner.”
Charlie looked at the princess, said nothing.
She cleared her throat and raised her chin. “We’re taking you to the holding cells in King Syrian’s castle,” she continued, “You are not as yet charged with anything. This is merely a precaution. You may have your Defender present. Will you go willingly?”
As if he had a choice. Charlie said he would.
Theodine Gray stepped forward, a pleased grin on his face. He leaned in close to Charlie, who met his gaze unflinchingly. “Just doing our jobs, like you suggested,” he said.
Charlie said nothing.
Surah stepped forward now, trying to break up the two men, but appearing slightly uncomfortable at being in between them. “Let’s go, Mr. Redmine,” she said. “Give me your hands.”
Charlie pulled his eyes away from the Head Hunter and held his hands out to Surah. Her gloved fingers traced a figure eight around his wrists, and handcuffs the color of white light appeared. “Are you ready, Mr. Redmine?” she asked, careful to keep her face smooth as she looked up at him.
Charlie nodded, then tilted his head. “Can I bring my guitar?” he asked.
Theo laughed deeply, as though this was an impossible request, and Surah couldn’t keep her back from rising a little at this. If she was going to do this job, she was going to need his subordinates. He had to know she was running the show, that she was Keeper, at least until this was over.
“I don’t see why not,” she said, and pretended not to notice the look Theo shot her.
Charlie gave a small bow. “Thank you, my lady.”
Surah twisted her wrist and the guitar propped against the couch rose into the air, the strap connected to it settling over Charlie’s neck without the assistance of hands. Her hand fell to her side as the guitar came to rest against Charlie’s back.
“Princess,” Theo said, “I would be happy to escort the prisoner.”
Surah’s eyes narrowed just a touch. She gave Theo her sweet princess smile. “Thank you, Sir Gray, but I believe that it’s the Keeper’s job to do such things, and he is not our prisoner until he’s found guilty of something. I would appreciate it if you would escort Mr. Flyer instead.”
A look passed behind Theo’s eyes then, but a moment later, it was gone. “Of course, my lady,” Theo said, taking the Defender by the arm, who looked a little annoyed at the contact, but offered no protest.
Surah placed her hand on Charlie’s hard shoulder, looking up at him under dark lashes, her purple eyes flashing an apology that he may have just imagined. “Just grit your teeth,” she whispered, forcing herself not to let her fingers squeeze the corded muscles in his arm. “This can be unsettling the first time.”
Charlie thought, You’re tellin' me, honey. You’re tellin' me.
CHAPTER 14
The holding cells were not as bad as Charlie had imagined. In fact, they were more like sparse hotel rooms with round the clock guards instead of mints on the pillows. There was a twin bed, a table, and two chairs. No windows. No dressers or devices for entertainment. The bathroom was located out in the hall, and two Hunters escorted Charlie when he had to go.
After only two hours of waiting in the room with Jude Flyer Charlie was beyond grateful that the princess had allowed him to bring his guitar. Jude was a man who always seemed to have too many important things to say to allow him to shut up, and there might not be any bars in this room, but the four walls and one guarded door made it clear that he was trapped here until they decided to let him out.
If they decided to let him out. Charlie shoved that thought away as soon as it popped up.
At least he didn’t have to be here alone, and once Charlie began strumming the strings of his old guitar, even Jude shut up. He had never been to the city, where most of the fast-talking and power-flashing highborns made their home, and he felt out of place here, even though all he had seen of it was the hallway that led to this room and the room itself. It was almost as if he could feel the otherness that surrounded him outside these four walls, and he wanted nothing more than to be sitting back in his cabin where only open land neighbored him.
At lunchtime, Jude Flyer left the room to go get lunch for the two of them, leaving Charlie alone, leaning back against his chair and strumming his guitar quietly. As soon as Jude left the room, it happened.
The air in front of him grew warm, and out of it glowing golden letters began to appear, popping into sight like fireflies, coming together to form words and sentences. Charlie was only barely able to keep himself from glancing around as the message appeared in front of him, and could only hope that its sender had made it invisible to anyone other than him. No one was in the room with him, but he was being watched. He was certain.
He got only three words in before knowing who it was from,
and his heart sank a little in his chest. It had been over a century, but only one person greeted him this way.
Hey Charlie Boy!
It was a message from his brother.
CHAPTER 15
Samson walked alongside her as Surah crossed the courtyard that separated her father’s quarters and her own. She could have just teleported into the foyer outside that led to his office, but she needed the time to think.
Her tiger walked closely at her flank, his enormous head lowered, amber eyes seeing everything they passed, ears perked and tail swishing slowly. A large stone wall with hundreds of tiny waterfalls was to the left, and the other three walls crawled with green vines that sprouted thousands of violet flowers with blood red centers. The sky above was open for all to see, blue with puffs of white cloud drifting across, the air carrying a sweet floral scent. Hunters and Lords, Ladies and Knights met here, sipping caffeinated drinks and discussing political matters on the pathways and lawns, benches and fountains. It was a pretty place, but Surah avoided places like these. Too populated.
They all bowed as she passed by, and she nodded and princess-smiled as was her duty, wondering if any of them were aware of Merin Nightborn’s death, thinking the answer was probably no. Not yet, at least. She was beyond grateful for this, but the peace wouldn’t keep for long. Soon everyone would know, and being Keeper, they would look to her for justice.
Samson watched them all, could smell the small tang of fear that radiated from them as he moved by, could feel their eyes on his mistress. He was not a tame Beast, and the small increase in heart rate that befell those around him made his own blood pump hot, but he had been at Surah’s side for centuries and had learned how to control himself. For her.
The tiger’s head turned sharply to the side as Theodine Gray fell into step on the other side of Surah. Surah kept her princess smile on her face, but wished like hell he would just go away. Theo seemed to be buzzing around like a damn fly lately, and the urge to swat at him was getting stronger and stronger.
“My lady,” Theo said, holding an elbow out to Surah.
So much for time to think. She may as well have teleported. She laced her arm through his, giving him another fake smile. “Sir Gray,” she said.
“On your way to see King Syrian?” he asked.
Surah nodded, her free hand reaching over to stroke Samson’s side for comfort. She could feel the powerful muscles moving in his shoulders as he walked.
They reached the wall that held the entrance to her father’s quarters, and two Hunters stepped aside to let them enter. Theo flicked his wrist, opening the doors for them. They stepped into the foyer with the storm mural hanging above, and two more Hunters bowed to them in greeting.
Theo came to a stop at the center of the room, halting Surah’s progress as well. They were alone here, save for the four Hunters that always occupied the room, as silent as the candelabras hanging on the walls. Surah looked up at the Head Hunter, her eyebrow cocked, her heart sinking a little for a reason she couldn’t explain after seeing the look on his face.
“May I have a word with you, Princess?” Theo asked.
Surah swallowed. No, she thought, please don’t. She nodded.
Theo rubbed his hands together, his handsome face apprehensive. It took Surah a moment to recognize that he was nervous, as she couldn’t recall a time ever seeing him so. She found herself holding her breath.
“I would hope,” Theo began, just barely above a whisper, “that you know how I feel about you.” His gloved hands came up and took hers, and Surah had to use great effort not to take a step back. His gray eyes were all but burning. “I have loved you since we were children, Surah.”
Theo paused, his handsome face dead serious, his jaw held in tight lines, watching for how she absorbed this information. Surah just looked at him, not sure what to say to this. The urge to hop on Samson’s back and let him carry her out of there like she used to do when she was a little girl struck her, and she bit her tongue to keep back the laugh that mental image brought up.
“I hope,” Theo continued, “that you will consider taking my hand in marriage.”
At these words Surah’s thoughts seemed to crash together and jam up, producing nothing intelligible and leaving only raw emotion. Her heart raced, her tongue going dry in her mouth. The urge to clench her fists struck and she fought it. The urge to laugh followed and she sent it away as well. Her feet wanted to shift beneath her but she didn’t let them. Time seemed to lengthen into an endless tunnel, where silence and hanging words dwelled. Had she not been so practiced in the art of sophistication, she would have sputtered like a nervous child.
Then a thought came, and it was only one word, a name actually, but it was as clear as Sunday morning.
Charlie.
Her brow furrowed. Why was she thinking of Charlie? That was no good. She shoved the thought away. She opened her mouth to say something, not knowing what it would be until it came out. “You’ll have to give me time to consider things,” she said, and cleared her throat as the solution came to her, her voice taking back on the confidence that always carried in her sweet tone. “There is much to be done now, too much that requires my attention.”
Theo’s expression changed, not so much a hardening, as she was used to seeing from him, but more a poker mask sliding into place. Surah felt a pang of guilt. She had never seen this expression on Theo’s face, and it was strangely disarming. She thought for just a moment that if he always wore this look, rather than the one he put on for all others, she might not dislike him so much. Her gloved hand reached up before she could stop it.
It rested against Theo’s face, and his eyes softened as he leaned his chin into her touch. For a moment Surah could see why so many women were in love with him, and she had to work a little to hold his gaze. She gave him her gentlest princess smile, and he didn’t know the difference. So few would. “I will consider it, Theo,” she said, “and I am honored that you have asked.” She swallowed. “But there are other matters at hand…you understand?” Her voice was sweet and low, the purr of a kitten. One of her more deceptive qualities.
Theo smiled a full smile of perfect teeth, dimples forming in his cheeks. He really was a handsome man, having stopped ageing at around twenty-seven, with fine lines to his face and dark lashes. He took Surah’s hand into his now and kissed it, bowing his head. “Of course, my lady,” he said.
Surah was just breathing a sigh of relief when something nudged her hard in the back, making her stumble forward into Theo’s arms. He caught her quickly and set her to rights, and Surah whipped her head around to see Samson staring at her, his amber eyes only inches from her own, his huge chest puffing as he chuffed and growled deeply. He sent her one word telepathically, then he shot off across the foyer in the direction of the king’s quarters.
The one word was trouble.
Surah didn’t think twice. She took to her heels and chased her tiger down the hallway to her father’s study, her heart beating out of her chest, the stone at her throat growing alternately cold and hot. Samson had heard something. Something was wrong. She could feel it too now. Big trouble.
The tiger slammed head-first into the double doors to the study, crashing them open with cracks like thunder, and charged into the room. Surah followed only moments after, with Theo right at her heels.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the scene. Her father stood off to the side, his thick hands raised and moving through the air in ceaseless motion as his lips recited spell after spell after spell. Lightening flew from his fingertips like snakes of silver. His face was all concentrated, sharp lines, and his hair stood up on end as if electricity were passing through him. Magic was so thick in here that it floated on the air like smoke and charged the room with heat like a divine furnace. King Syrian’s two personal Hunters lay dead on the floor. Blood ran down the walls, pooled on the soft purple carpet. Screeches and screams of the damned bounced off the walls and floor and ceiling. The enormous fir
eplace in the west wall blazed like the infernos of hell.
And out of it poured demons.
Surah licked her lips and removed the two sais that she always kept crisscrossed at her back, thinking this was turning out to be one hell of a day.
CHAPTER 16
Samson charged forward, his muscular body held low and his amber eyes flashing with battle lust. He leapt into the air and clamped his huge jaws around the black, rotted body of a demon, snatching it out of flight like a dazed fly. The demon shrieked, its cry of agony ripping through Surah’s ears as the tiger and the thing came crashing to the ground, Samson’s teeth ripping at the black skeletal figure and sending oily blood and body parts in all directions.
The smell in the room was awful, like that of old death. Nearly choking.
Another demon swept down toward Surah, skeletal black wings blowing the heat of the fireplace against her face, lifting her short lavender hair from her shoulders. Her heart leapt as she spun around with her sais and skewered the thing right through the midsection, its long claws reaching and scraping, its red eyes widening and mouth gaping. Her lips trembled as she uttered a banishing spell. The thing disappeared in a thick cloud of black smoke, the smell that of burning flesh and spoiled fruit.
For a short moment that seemed incredibly long, all she could do was stand there and stare around the room. She had seen a demon or two before, on more than one occasion, and she’d even killed a few in her day, as the black slash-mark tattoos covering her right arm indicated. But she had never seen so many demons before. The sight was nearly paralyzing. Like watching a scene in hell.
It reminded her of the battle she’d witnessed a month ago in a place called the Silver City run by the Vampires and Wolves. In all her years she had never seen such a thing as she had that night, and she still wished she never had. She had watched the young Sun Warrior charge into battle, could still see so clearly the deep red that spilled into the stark white snow, the steamy breath that issued from the mouths of so many dying, visible last moments of life. She remembered the moment when the young Warrior lost her mind, the battle lust overcoming her and the destruction that followed. The look in the girl’s eyes—Alexa, her name had been—was the same look that now rode behind the glowing red eyes of the demons in the room. The eyes were dark abysses. You stared into them, and they stared back.
