Love Me to Death (Underveil)

by Marissa Clarke

  The guard’s head was separated from his body before the beast had even registered the danger. The door was locked, but it was easy enough to find the key on the guard’s ring. Careful not to track blood into his mother’s room, he paused inside the doorway. “Mother?”

  No answer came in return. He shut the door behind him and crossed the room he had spent so many hours in as a child. Still decked in white and gold, the airy space reflected his mother perfectly: classic, elegant, understated—so unlike his uncle.

  “Hello? Mother?”

  Sharp, stinging pain erupted on the back of his neck, like the time he was stung on the ear by a wasp when he was seven. He slapped his hand over it, plucking the insect off.

  His uncle’s voice sounded far away. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist coming here.”

  He opened his palm to find a feathered dart. Fuck. He’d been poisoned or drugged. The edges of his vision blurred. “Human tricks.”

  “Yes.” Fydor moved closer, but not close enough to grab. Nik tried to lunge, but ended up face down on the floor.

  The image of his uncle waved like ripples on the surface of a pond as he leaned down and pulled his father’s sword from his hand. “And shortly, I’ll have all of the human tricks, just as soon as we lift the Veil.”

  Nikolai had never experienced helplessness like this. Unable to move or even talk, he could only listen as his uncle spoke from far away. “I’m so glad you dropped in. Your mother will be delighted to see you.”

  Fucking bastard. He tried to lift his head, but couldn’t even open his eyes.

  “Uncle Fydor! I have something for you,” Aleksi said from behind him somewhere.

  Surely she’d see and help him. Any second now, she’d liberate Fydor’s head from his body.

  “Oh. I see you found Niki.”

  No.

  “What is your surprise?” his uncle asked.

  “You are going to love it.”

  She sounded so far away. Using all of his strength, he cracked his eyes open to see her rubbing against him. Hands all over his body. She slid her hands into his front pockets, and he groaned.

  No, no, no, no, no, no.

  “I brought you the Uniter. She came in through my window.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Mihai has taken her to the dungeon.”

  “I want her in the rec room.”

  No…

  “She can teleport. The dungeon was the only place secure enough.”

  “Call one of the witches. I’ll arrange to get rid of this.”

  Nikolai heard the thud and knew it was his uncle’s foot connecting with his rib cage, but he felt nothing other than the ache in his heart knowing he had failed. All his training and power couldn’t help him now. And he’d never see Elena again. Never hold his child. Never…

  Elena brushed the hair from Nik’s forehead. “I have no idea what they drugged him with, but he seems to be coming around.” He groaned, and she took his hand. “Nik, I’m here. So is your mother.”

  The oppressive darkness of the dungeon made it almost impossible to see the woman sitting on the other side of the tiny space. Unlike the wood elf in the next cell, they weren’t chained.

  “What goes around comes around. You should have let me go,” the elf taunted through the darkness. “Then you wouldn’t be here as a prisoner, too.”

  Actually, being a prisoner beat the hell out of the other possible scenarios. “Shut up.”

  Nik groaned again and covered his mouth and nose. “The smell.”

  “You’re in the dungeon,” she explained. “It appears you were drugged.”

  He sat up with a groan and pulled her into his arms. “Never thought I’d…” She couldn’t make out his face well enough in the darkness, but it sounded like he’d choked up emotionally.

  Knowing how Slayers admired the strong outer appearance, she took his face in her hands to ground him and bring him back. “Hey. You’re okay. We are all alive, and we need to hold it together to get out of this with our lives. Lie back and heal, because we’re going to need your strength soon.”

  The door at the entrance to the dungeon creaked, and several sets of footsteps descended the stairs. The cellblock door flew open with a bang, and Elena squinted against the light of the torch carried by the big Slayer called Commander Mihai. With him was a hideous woman with tangled hair, wearing a filthy dress of sorts. It looked more like a burlap sack with armholes and a hole for the head.

  He unlocked the door and grabbed Elena, yanking her out with him, then slamming the door shut. Nik tried to rise to his feet but couldn’t get past his knees. Having seen her memories from his perspective, she knew how hard this was for him to be helpless. It broke her heart to see him struggle.

  “It’s okay, Nik. Recover. They are not going to kill me right now. I know what I’m talking about.” And she did. She’d seen his mother bound to a stake. What she hadn’t told him was that the point of view of the vision was from a stake right next to her. She’d at least live long enough to be burned alive.

  The big Slayer pulled her into the cell where she’d first met Fee. He pointed to the stone bench at the back of the cell. All the surfaces undulated in the flickering light of the torch, giving the cell an eerie fluid quality. Not wanting to cause a scene and agitate Nik, she sat on the bench.

  The old woman got right up in her face, but didn’t look directly at her. Her weird, cloudy eyes stared straight ahead. She ran her fingers over Elena’s face and grunted. Then she placed her palms flat over the markings on her chest and grunted again. It was all Elena could do to sit still while the old woman ran her hands over her breasts and down her ribs. She gasped when the woman shoved her hands under the front of the leather top, laying her palms on her belly. “No.” she said. “Not going to do it.”

  Mihai shifted uncomfortably. “You have orders.”

  “No.”

  He pulled out his sword, and the old woman cringed. Holding the torch in one hand and his sword in the other, he looked fierce. Too fierce. Charge built in Elena’s hands, and she nailed him in the chest full force with a bolt of electricity.

  “Elena!” Nik yelled from the cell across from her. She grabbed the key ring off the unconscious Slayer and inserted it into the keyhole of the cell where he and his mother stood just inside the narrow bars.

  Before she could engage the tumblers, a tsking sound came from the entrance to the cellblock followed by a sharp sting in her arm. Almost immediately, she ripped the dart out, but not soon enough. Her vision blurred within seconds.

  “You will now insert that elf ore in her body, witch, or I will kill every man, woman, and child in your coven. Are we clear?” Fydor said.

  “Y-yes,” the old woman answered, pulling a wicked-looking medical instrument from a bag slung over her shoulder.

  Nik looked ready to roar in anger, but she shook her blurry head. “Let them,” she slurred. “S’okay. Heal. Trust.”

  His mother put a comforting hand on his arm as Elena sunk to the ground, too dizzy from the drug to stand.

  Too bad it hadn’t been enough to knock her out, she thought as the woman placed the instrument against the inside of her bicep. Yeah, really too bad, she lamented as the steel penetrated her flesh with an intolerable breath-stealing sting. The woman, hands shaking, depressed the plunger that inserted the metal plug of ore that would dampen her powers, leaving her one step short of human again. She gritted her teeth and held in a scream as the procedure was completed and the instrument removed. No anesthesia, no sterilization of the instruments, not even a freaking Band-Aid. She pressed her palm to her arm to stop the flow of blood from the incision sight. Welcome to the Underveil.

  Several Slayers entered the dungeon, swords drawn.

  “Showtime!” Fydor said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dread, fear, rage, regret—Nikolai’s emotions had run the gamut by the time he was bound with elven chains to one of four stakes. The execution site had be
en fabricated on top of a raised stone platform on the enormous fortress balcony overlooking the open field below. He hadn’t even fought the men he thought at one time were friends because Elena had asked him not to. She wanted him to save his strength. For what? So he was in top form when they fucking burned them all alive.

  Below, armies from numerous Underveil factions gathered. Just like Nikolai, they were helpless to do anything. Borya had put some kind of enchantment on the fortress that was like a force field bubble. Even arrows bounced off it.

  Fydor, looking more unstable and nervous than Nikolai had ever seen him, was decked out in the typical Slayer black leather, but wore the king’s crown. His father’s crown. What should have been his crown if he hadn’t fucked everything up. Fingers twitching, the man he’d allowed to have power, stood on the platform only feet in front of Nikolai, staring down at the crowd while servants piled hay at the edges of the giant pile of wood.

  He relaxed his head against the heavy pole. To his left, the wood elf whimpered and Elena, on his right, remained calm and stoic. Beyond her, his mother ascended the stairs to the top of the stone platform. At the sight of the queen being secured for execution, the angry shouts from the warriors in the field below became deafening.

  “Have you had a vision as to how we escape?” he asked Elena.

  “No.”

  “Any visions at all after this?”

  “Only the one I told you about at Vlad’s castle.”

  Oh, yeah, the one where his mother was surrounded by flames. Fucking perfect.

  Focus. Buying time was the ticket at this point. “So, Uncle. What do you think is going to happen when your protective bubble is gone?”

  He shrugged.

  “I know what will happen,” Nikolai said. “They will storm the castle and kill every living thing inside.”

  Fydor pulled several vials from his pocket, selected one, and shoved the others back. His hands shook as he loosened the top and gulped the contents. “Borya will leave the protective spell in place then, of course.”

  A volley of arrows soundlessly hit the magical barrier well over Nikolai’s head and fell away. “Then you will starve,” he said. “I warned you, though, didn’t I, Uncle? You are nothing but a puppet in his plan to create chaos and lift the Veil. And now, you’re not even going to live to see the chaos you have helped create.”

  “Shut up!” Fydor yelled, pressing his palms to his head. “Light the fires.”

  “Not yet,” Borya said, as he reached the top of the platform.

  Nikolai clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to incite the sorcerer to hurt Elena as he picked his way over the piled wood, stopping right in front of her. She didn’t seem to notice and had a glazed look on her face. “Stop that!” he ordered.

  She grinned. “Would you prefer I sing out loud?” At the top of her lungs, she belted,“When I dance, they call me Macarena, and the boys they say que estoy buena!”

  With the back of his hand, he struck her across the face, and Nikolai roared, straining against his chains.

  But instead of crying or showing fear, she simply started singing again. “Hey! Macarena, M-M-Macarena, M-M-Macarena.”

  The sorcerer, still clutching his staff, wrapped his other hand around her throat. Nikolai, unable to look away, nearly vomited at the prospect of watching his mate die. And his child. He swallowed the lump of dread in his throat and prayed they lit the fire soon if the bastard killed her.

  “What’s up, Borya? You don’t like to dance?” she said. Nikolai held his breath as her face went red from the constriction of her throat. “Do it,” she squeaked out. “It beats the hell out of being barbecue.”

  With a growl, he released her. Nikolai gave a silent shout of gratitude as fear’s choke hold on his heart lessened.

  She gulped air. “Chicken.”

  “Light the fires,” he ordered the Slayers surrounding the platform after he had cleared the wood and straw.

  Nikolai noticed their hesitation. Slayers never hesitated or disobeyed orders, yet none made a move to light the stack of wood.

  Fydor held his arms out, and the crowd below shouted in anger.

  “God help you, Uncle, when that protection spell is lifted. You’ll wish you had a death as easy as mine. I imagine the elves will enjoy torturing you for centuries, maybe millennia, depending on Aksel’s fate.”

  Fear flashed across his uncle’s features, something Slayers never allowed. Good, his will was cracking. Now, if only the bubble keeping the warriors out would crack.

  The overwhelming roar from the furious mob below rang in Elena’s ears.

  Speak, King Fydor,” Borya urged from the bottom of the platform stairs.

  Still singing in her head, Elena caught her breath and straightened up, relieving the bite of the chains. At least Borya had backed off, leaving the show to Fydor, who seemed pretty strung out. She was disappointed Fydor hadn’t taken the poison when he chugged the elixir earlier. Not that it would have stopped the execution, necessarily, but at least the bastard would be dead.

  Fydor held one arm up, palm out, and the mob below fell silent.

  “A puppet,” Nik called to his uncle. “He’s pulled your strings, and now you must say what he directs.”

  “This is the beginning of a new era for the Underveil. We will rise together to the power we deserve.”

  No reaction from the gathering of weapon-toting creatures below. Elena had no idea there were this many.

  “Tomorrow morning we will lift the Veil, forever changing the face of the planet,” Fydor yelled. “I ask for your help and loyalty.”

  Still, silence. Commanders had their arms up at the ready. They were waiting for something. A signal to advance. A hope fluttered in Elena’s chest. They knew something.

  “I told you to light the fire,” Borya shouted to the Slayers around the platform. Obviously, they didn’t want to torch their queen. When they didn’t move, he lifted his staff and a bolt shot from it, knocking a Slayer off to the stones below.

  They needed more time. Something was going to happen. Stall. “Do it yourself, asshole,” Elena challenged. “Or are you too weak?”

  He once again climbed over the pile of wood and got right in her face. “I would, if I could. And I’d enjoy it, too. The problem is, Elena Arcos, I can’t destroy my own blood or it weakens my power.” She held completely still, heart slamming against her ribs like a captive animal as he kissed her on the cheek. “Good-bye, my sweet granddaughter.”

  Holy shit. Aunt Uza had mentioned her great-great-grandmother hooking up with an immortal. It was Borya.

  He backed away and pointed his staff at the Slayer Elena remembered from her vision. “You will now do exactly as I wish,” the sorcerer ordered.

  Clearly against his will, the Slayer moved. Fighting his own body that was controlled by Borya, he lowered his torch to the straw at their feet. “Forgive me please, Queen Tatiana.” The straw caught fire with a whoosh.

  “These prisoners have been convicted of treason against the king,” Fydor shouted. There was an odd void of reaction from the crowd below. “And sentenced to death by fire.”

  For the first time, Elena truly doubted they’d make it out alive. She’d seen the last of her visions unfold and had no idea what would happen now. If Aleksandra had been successful in putting the tainted vial with his others, at least Elena could die confident that Fydor would not live to lead that massacre tomorrow morning. She strained to look at the crowd inside the fortress behind her, but didn’t catch a glimpse of Aleksi.

  And then, there was the baby. She closed her eyes at the sting of the smoke. The precious baby Nik had given her. The bridge between worlds. A tear rolled down her cheek as the ache in her chest became intolerable. The heat from the flames was increasing, and in moments it would spread enough to ignite the wood at her feet. This was it. Still careful to hum so Borya wouldn’t hear her thoughts about the baby and the poison, she knew it was time for good-byes. “Nik?” He met her eyes, calm
and relaxed. “I’m glad you found me in that convenience store.”

  “I love you, Elena Arcos,” he said.

  “I love you, too, and I’ll see you wherever we end up after this lifetime,” she answered.

  He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “You are an excellent son and Slayer,” she answered.

  The wood elf said nothing. He trembled all over, black eyes wide with horror in his rough, gray-skinned face as the flames spread and grew, getting closer to the center every second.

  A twinge of sympathy pricked Elena’s chest. He had no one to comfort him. “I wish you well, elf,” she said.

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  The heat built as the flames crept closer, and Elena switched from “The Macarena” to “The Hokey Pokey,” in honor of her dad, who maybe she’d see soon, if there really was an afterlife. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bid her unborn child a silent good-bye.

  So close. They’d almost done it.

  “Woo hooooooo!” someone shrieked, and Elena opened her eyes to see Uza, still dressed in her cat mu-mu, solidify with a pop on the platform just outside the flames. “Let’s get this party started, dudes!”

  Uza turned in a circle, hips swaying like she was on the dance floor. Once back around to face Elena, she swept her arms in a wide circle, puckered her lips, and blew, looking even crazier than usual. A huge gust of wind followed, blowing cinders and flaming straw around like flash paper. “I’ll dance the Macarena with you, Ellie Baby.” She blew again, and the rest of the fire went out like candles on a birthday cake, leaving only tiny smoldering embers. “And the Hokey Pokey.”

  Watch out!” Elena shouted as Borya raised his staff.

  Aunt Uza turned and held her palms out to him, blocking the bolt he fired off, causing it to ricochet back, nearly hitting him.

  “Now, kitties, you know what to do.” She brushed her hands over her mu-mu, as if dusting off hay, but instead, dusted off her shifter companions, who hit the ground as full-size house cats. They immediately sprang into action, lining the perimeter of the platform as if daring anyone to try to come light the fire again.