“I think they were taking her to the castle. They’re going to use her to steal the names of all the goblins at tonight’s speech in Hulver—they said they would cut out her tongue.” Penny shivered, her hands trembling as she leaned into Argent’s strong grip. Argent blanched at Penny’s words, but Simon was already on his feet.
“Then there’s no time to lose! We’ve got to get her back, no matter the cost!” Simon flourished his wand and with a fiery flick the puffy white cloud materialized before them. “Let’s go!”
Hector stared at Simon in defeat. “Simon, every guard in the city will be looking for us. It’s the last day of the Carnival, there’s no way we’ll get there in time, and even if we did, how are we supposed to stop them?”
Simon seemed close to a conniption. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re going to sit here while those animals mutilate our Nettie? I don’t know what kind of friend you claim to be, but I’m certainly not going to let this happen. If I die, so be it. Annette needs us! ” he bellowed, his face red with emotion.
Argent leapt to his feet. “I’m coming with you,” he said, crossing the clearing to join Simon. Penny looked meekly up at the two of them. The crippling fear and helplessness she felt was almost enough to overwhelm her, but the sudden and vivid image of Deimos approaching Annette with a blade and sadistic smile was enough to get her to her feet.
“She’d go for me. I don’t know if I can be of any help, but I can’t sit back while someone I love is in danger.” Penny wobbled over on unsure legs to where Argent and Simon stood facing Hector, who looked sick to his stomach.
“Do you not understand that this is suicide?” Hector implored. Penny, Simon, and Argent stared at him with tight lips and narrowed eyes, and Hector hung his head.
“Oh, what am I saying? Of course I’ll go―realistic chances of survival be damned.”
THE CLOUD SOARED high in the skies above Hulver, dodging between moths and huge white dragonflies. Beneath them, the city was alight with its sequins of color, flares of light, and a chorus of noise. Shrieks of delight and excited chattering echoed through the streets as goblin children lit fireworks that detonated with snaps and booms. Paper lanterns, leering masks, and outlandish booths were propped up all around the city. The smell of grilling food filled the air. The streets were absolutely brimming with life, and crowds of people fought to move even inches from where they stood. A clock tower loomed up from the serpentine streets, its face a brilliant moon of green and orange. A combusting shower of fireworks rained down around the castle’s jagged silhouette. Simon kept his gaze fixed on it as he commanded the cloud to sail onward.
“What will we do when we get to the palace?” Hector shouted over the roar of the wind.
“We’ll need to sneak past the guards and find where they’re keeping Annette. You can use your locating spell,” Simon shouted back as they wove through the gathering of flying creatures and airborne machines in the skyway.
“How are we going to get past the guards?” Penny wondered, struggling to hide her trembling.
Argent smiled as he eyed the booths that lined the streets below. “I have an idea…Simon, fly low for a second,” he ordered, grasping the control of Kasper and twitching his fingers until the puppet danced out of his pocket and floated beside him.
Simon looked around for an opening and then plunged the cloud downward, just avoiding a collision with a string of paper lanterns. As they grazed the tops of the vendor’s booths, Argent sent Kasper out. The puppet glided along and grabbed at several carnival masks attached to the side of a booth. The goblin manning the booth shouted in rage as Kasper returned to the cloud holding the entire post from which the masks had hung. Argent thanked his puppet before stuffing it back into his pocket and distributing masks to Simon, Penny, and Hector.
“This should give us a smidgen more anonymity, I think,” Argent grinned, donning a red mask with a long, beak-like nose. Penny pulled on an expressionless black and white mask while Simon guised himself behind an ostentatious feathered eyepiece. Hector’s face was covered by his mask’s pained grimace, and he struggled to fit his glasses behind it.
Raucous music poured out of restaurants and from street corners as the castle loomed closer. At long last, they floated up to the side of the gargantuan castle and its mismatched towers, which fit together like a lopsided collage. Simon dropped the cloud down into a nearby alleyway, and they darted into the street, blending into the surging crowd. As they struggled to get through the thrashing, humid cluster of goblins, a loud voice boomed over the mighty thrall. Many of the carnival goers stopped in their tracks to listen to the announcement, their masked faces turned toward the sky.
“Goblins and Goblesses, people of Hulver! The time draws near! At midnight tonight our majestic monarch, King Yulghrat, will be addressing the public at the castle with his annual speech. Please make your way to the castle by midnight!”
The carnival goers resumed their molasses-slow progress toward the castle. Argent led them to the spiked gates of the castle, but their hearts sank when they saw that it swarming with goblin soldiers.
“We’ll never get around that many, and there’s no way we can fight them. If we create a disturbance, our cover will be blown and they’re sure to overtake us. What should we do?” Argent asked.
Everyone was silent for a moment as they all looked around for inspiration. Penny found it hard to concentrate with the crackling of fireworks and screams of delight all around her.
Without a word of warning, Hector lifted his hands, looked about to make sure no one was watching, and conjured an arcane circle the size of a car tire, which he proceeded to hurtle at the side of a nearby building. It collided with an explosion that outdid the rumbling of the fireworks. As the wall of the building began to disintegrate, everyone around them screamed, ducking to protect their faces.
The goblin rangers that had been protecting the castle gates went into a flurry and pushed their way out into the squabbling crowd, barking out questions and blowing whistles. Under the cover of confusion, Argent sprinted forward and led the others through the mob. Once they reached the castle gates, the four of them crouched, facing one another behind their masks.
“Okay, Simon and I will go in and find Annette. Argent and Penny, you two stay out here and keep watch for Nestor. Stop him if you can, but exercise extreme caution. Once we secure Annette we’ll come find you―and if worse comes to worst, find your way back to the airship,” Hector said in a hurried voice.
Argent shook his head. “We should really stay together―” he objected.
“Argent, no. I need you to go to the balcony where the king will make his speech. We will need eyes on the ground,” Hector insisted, then discarded his and Simon’s masks in the bushes. Before sprinting away, Hector grabbed Penny by the shoulders.
“Promise me you’ll be safe,” he pleaded.
Penny couldn’t contain a pale smile. “I’ll do what I can.”
Annette’s eyes sprang open at the sound of an all-too familiar voice, honey-sweet and laced with venom.
“Ahh, the princess awakens,” the voice purred and Annette felt the touch of spiny fingernails against her face. Valentine Frost peered down at her with a satisfied smirk.
Annette became aware of the cottony dryness in her mouth and a thick cord of fabric wrapped over her lips. The young actress lay supine on a soft, regal bed in the middle of a richly furnished room, her wrists bound behind her back.
Valentine sauntered around the bed like a shark circling its prey, jeering. “Poor Nettie. What have you gotten yourself into now, hmm? I almost feel sorry for you.”
Annette struggled to roll onto her side, freezing when Valentine placed two fingers under her chin. The older woman studied her face for a long moment before withdrawing her hand and bringing it back full force across Annette’s face. Annette cringed, her eyes watering from the pain smarting in her cheek.
Valentine’s fiery green eyes reduced to slits and her voice cha
nged, growing deeper and more menacing. “And you thought you could get away with what you did. How droll,” she hissed. “You actually thought that you could get away with making a fool out of me. Of course, I knew you were cheating from the beginning…I realized it from the moment you spoke to me that evening, when you twittered those suggestions like the brainless little bird you are and robbed me of my happiness. But I knew that if I waited long enough, you would get your comeuppance. This little songbird’s been caged, and she’s never to sing again. And my goodness, isn’t that sweet?”
“Valentine,” a commanding voice said from the corner of the room, and Annette moved with effort to see Deimos sidle into the room, his face livid. He had changed into a formal suit and a silk strip of fabric covered his bad eye.
Valentine swooped around and faced Deimos. “And what do you want?” she snapped.
“Stop this at once. It’s disgraceful,” Deimos growled, looking down his nose at Valentine. “Get to the balcony. Lord Nestor is waiting for you, and for Heaven’s sake I hope you act a shade more distinguished in his presence.”
Valentine smirked at him, took a puff of her cigarette and blew the scented smoke out her nostrils before leaving, her hips swinging.
Deimos took a seat beside Annette, studying her with expressionless eyes. “Now, I’m not sure if you’re entirely aware of what exactly we need you to do for us tonight, so I thought I’d make it clear beforehand. As I’m sure you’ve come to understand, it is the final night of the Goblin Carnival. Thousands of goblins are gathered to witness the king’s annual speech, which will be occurring in about thirty minutes. Understand so far?”
Annette chose not to dignify him with a response.
“Now, your job will be simple. All you must do is put on the vocal magnifying ring here―” Deimos showed her a glittering ring, and Annette recognized it as the same type she used for her stage performances. The shadow of the life she had known and loved in the face of her awful demise was enough to send fresh tears spilling onto her face. Unaffected, Deimos continued, “You will command everyone in the audience to tell us their full names. Lord Nestor would normally, of course, do this for himself―but he is conserving what little strength he has for the removal and reassignment of your tongue. Will you comply or will we have to use force? A simple shake or nod will do,” Deimos assured, cocking his head to the side. “Please remember that your fate lies in our hands. A quick and easy death would be something you should begin to hope for―take my word for it, you do not want to test this.”
Annette allowed sobs to wrack her body, buying time while she got her thoughts in order. The thought of trying to use her Angel’s tongue for protection as soon as they removed the gag crossed her mind, but what chance did she have against Nestor? How could she escape the Angelic Lord?
Something deep within her was screaming to stand up, to refuse and to go out fighting instead of playing part in the destruction of thousands of innocent lives, but Annette also couldn’t bear the idea of being subjected to the unknown horrors of Phobos and Deimos’s twisted desires. Her heart slowed to a defeated whisper.
Annette thought of herself as a good person, and had always assumed that when given the choice to save others or help herself, she would unwaveringly choose the former. The shame and despair of being proven otherwise was almost more than she could bear.
She nodded, misery overwhelming her.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to break out in gooseflesh. Deimos’s eye ran first over her face and then the rest of her body before his dark iris flashed upward, connecting with her gaze. “Even in such a wretched state your beauty shines through. No matter what Valentine might say, you really are a lovely creature…seems like such an awful waste to kill you.” He shrugged and stood up, moving across the room. “Now we wait.”
A tortuous year seemed to be hidden within every minute spent in that room, the tension mounting between her and Deimos. It finally grew to its zenith when he turned back around, his bristled ponytail swinging as he gazed once more upon Annette. She regarded him, every fiber of her being on high alert. Deimos laughed, chilling Annette to the bone.
“You must be so frightened.” He sauntered back over to her bedside and brushed the hair away from her eyes. “Perhaps Lord Nestor will take pity on you…he is kind to those who are loyal to him. He brought my brother back from the furthest reaches of madness in return for my help in creating Cyrus and all those wraiths.” Deimos rubbed his chin, his leer causing her stomach to churn. His one dark eye traveled all about the room as if deliberating something.
“Truthfully, I may not be so opposed to helping you myself. It does pain me so to see such a lovely specimen destroyed. Beauty is a scarce commodity in dark times. I wonder—I could take it upon myself to persuade Lord Nestor to spare your life.”
Annette made no movement as Deimos sat back down, a contemplative expression on his face.
“I wouldn’t ask for much. All I would require in return would be your obedience. Can you promise me that?” Deimos prodded, and Annette knew he had misread her stillness as a hint at compliance. She stared into his eyes, Della’s words echoing in her mind.
You are not helpless. You are not selfish.
Her expression remained impassive as everything came crashing down within her. The previous notion that she would comply with the sordid plot burned away and faded to naught. In an instant, Annette no longer cared what was to become of her life, or what she might be forced to endure as a result. Where there had only been crushing despair before now burned a flame of inexhaustible courage. She was ready.
She nodded to Deimos, feigning vulnerability. A smiled flowed over his lips and he reached to undo her gag. Her jaw clamped as she felt his fingers pry at the knots. Deimos let the cloth fall away from Annette’s mouth, their gaze lasting less than a second before he lurched forward and pressed his lips hard against Annette’s, not even giving her the chance to take a breath. Annette writhed in disgust as she felt Deimos grasp her head to stop her from breaking away. His other hand crawled up her stockings and under her skirts, gripping her naked thigh as a heady moan rumbled in his chest.
He held her steadfast as his greedy lips moved across hers, the hold on her leg growing painful. Annette tried to wriggle away, but this only seemed to excite him more.
She felt his tongue cross her lips and bit down with all the force she could muster, tasting a rush of salty, hot blood. Deimos reared back, howling as a mouthful of blood dribbled through his teeth and down his face and hands.
Fighting the urge to retch, Annette sprung to her feet, spitting as she made a mad rush for the door. It was a trick to get it open with her hands bound behind her back but she managed, feeling the rush of victory.
Annette stumbled into the hall as fast as her shaking feet would move, Deimos’s wails still ringing out behind her. Resolved now to her task, she hobbled down the dark hall, her ankle stinging with pain from her fall in the woods. The castle corridor twisted, but Annette did not care where she was going. She had to put as much space between Deimos and herself as possible.
A rush of adrenaline hit as a roar shook the hallway behind her. Deimos appeared at the end of it, his front covered in blood as he drew the long blade from the sheath at his side. The image of him impaling Della became more vivid in Annette’s mind than she cared for.
“You will pay for that!” Deimos’s voice, thick with blood, erupted.
It was only a matter of time before he caught up. She knew with her injured foot she was moving too slow to put any real distance between them. Deimos rushed toward her with his rapier lifted high, the blade whistling like a wasp in the darkness.
Annette took a deep breath and started to summon the Angelic power, but Deimos was too fast. She heard a rushing sound, and then a painful thump on the back of her head sent her tumbling to the ground. Deimos kicked her onto her back and reached down, clamping his sinewy hand across her throat, cutting off al
l her air. Deimos lifted her, choking the life out of Annette as he slammed her delicate frame against the wall. She could see his bloodstained grin through her watering eyes.
“Your suffering will be the makings of legend, Annette Deveaux,” Deimos growled, blood still bubbling over his chin. He looked at her chest, a flicker of concern flashing across his face. Annette peered downward to see a golden thread of light streaming from her body.
Deimos’s grip loosened. “What…is this?” he sputtered. “What are you doing?”
Annette looked around and spotted Hector and Simon speeding down the hall toward them. Empowered by the sight of her friends, Annette lashed out, her knee finding the pit of his stomach.
He howled and dropped Annette and she took a long, ragged breath that stung her throat all the way down. Hector rushed forward and grabbed Annette while Simon hurtled himself at an incapacitated Deimos. They collided in a flurry of limbs while Hector pulled Annette out of the fray.
“Are you all right?” Hector gasped, waving his hand to make the golden thread disappear from Annette’s chest. She nodded through quivering gasps, massaging her throat.
Deimos leapt to his feet and shuffled around Simon, his blade raised high. Simon flicked his wand at Deimos and a shower of ice blustered out, but Deimos was ready. He pulled another sword with a wide, black blade from his belt, and swept it through them, causing the icicles and hailstones to shatter in midair. As the fragments tinkled to the ground, Deimos sheathed the rapier and darted forward, ducking low to the ground and making a wide swipe at Simon, who leapt out of the way just in time to keep from getting his legs cut out from under him.
Hector spun his hand in a wide circle, an arcane circle blossoming from his fingers. Deimos did not wait to see what Hector’s spell was going to do, and hurtled himself toward Hector. With a graceful movement Hector laced his fingers into a bizarre hand sign and drove his interlocked hands through the golden circle, causing it to shatter into a hundred tiny shards of light.
The Angel of Elydria (The Dawn Mirror Chronicles Book 1) Page 37
