by Sarah Fine
I closed my eyes and focused on being in his arms again.
“Do you know how long we’ve been here?” he whispered.
“Did I wake you up?”
“I don’t mind.” He kissed the top of my head. “I thought I would never touch you again. I don’t want to miss a minute of it.”
“But you need to rest.” I let out a breath as his lips brushed over my brow and tilted my head up, scratching my skin along his scraggly beard. The scars on the underside of his neck, where the chains had cut his flesh, were pink and tender. My fingers crept up, drawn to the vulnerable spots. They were hot to the touch, and he stiffened but didn’t pull away.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked. I was snugged up against his bare skin, which was still mending itself.
“Not as much as you would if you pulled away,” he said, giving me a sad half-smile and turning his face to mine, letting me see the vicious scarring on his right cheek, from his temple to his jaw, where the Queen had anchored her claws.
“Nothing could make me do that.”
His eyes skimmed over my face. “I believe you. If you were willing to come here . . .” His skin paled as his expression fell. “Did Juri hurt you?” His gaze darted to my mouth. “Did you know it wasn’t me?”
I took his hand and traced his fingers along the silver crescent scar on my neck. “Not at first,” I said in a strained whisper.
Shards of hatred glinted in his eyes. “I want to destroy him.”
“Maybe we can. If he’s in the land of the living, his body’s still here, and I’m betting it’s near the portal, which Takeshi said would probably be in the Queen’s palace.” I turned toward the locked door of our concrete cell. “But first, we have to figure out how to get out of here. We were captured by a bunch of humans as soon as I unlocked your chains. They said they worked for someone called the Tanner.”
“Humans?”
I nodded. “I’m getting the sense the Mazikin aren’t in complete control. We stole the key to your chains from a guy called the Smith, and he seemed pretty masterless despite his loyalty to the Mazikin. And I don’t know where we are now, but I think that if the Mazikin had us, they wouldn’t have given us fresh water and clothes, or put us together.”
“I’ve seen the woman who captured us before,” Malachi said. “When I was in the square. The white-haired one with the dark cloak.”
“She said she was a servant of the Tanner. And I think she’d been following Takeshi, Ana, and me.”
Malachi wound one of my curls around his index finger. “I saw your mother, too, I think,” he said in a hushed voice. “For a moment, I thought it was you.” He closed his eyes, like it hurt him to remember.
“The Mazikin who possessed her took her as a pet. She and my mother were going to help us get you to safety.”
Malachi shifted slowly until we were chest to chest. Then he laid his hand on my face. “What was it like for you to see her again?”
“Weird. I . . . she’s like a stranger to me, but she looks at me like she knows me. Sometimes. Though most of the time, she seems completely lost in her own head.” I thought back to the moments in her arms. “But . . . she still loves me. Somewhere in there, it’s real.”
His thumb stroked over my cheek. “I asked Raphael about her, after you nearly sacrificed your life to save the Mazikin that had taken her body.”
“And he actually gave you an answer? That’s got to be a first.”
He smiled. “I suppose he thought I needed to know. He knew you wouldn’t talk to me about it, because of what I’d done, how I’d pulled away from you.” His eyes met mine. “And he also knew I was so distracted by it that I couldn’t do my job.”
I ignored the little stab of pain at the memory of those weeks we’d spent barely speaking to each other. “Because you thought your Captain was losing her mind.”
“No,” he said quietly, “because the girl I love was in terrible pain.”
I leaned forward and he kissed my forehead. “I don’t know how to feel about her,” I said. “I have some memories of her, but they’re really fuzzy. And even though I know it wasn’t her fault, it’s kind of hard to get over being abandoned like that. I’m not sure I was better off without her. It’s not like there was someone else waiting to love me . . .” My throat closed at the memory of what had happened instead.
His warmth seeped through my clothes, reaching all my cold places. He didn’t have to tell me it hurt him to think of what had happened to me—I knew it. And I trusted it. Which was nothing short of a miracle. He held me there, silently telling me he loved me now, wordlessly hoping it might be enough, and my body relaxed, letting him know it was. My hands skimmed up his back, tracing patterns that said I needed it, that it was the most precious thing in the world to me.
I raised my chin, and our lips collided. He moaned softly, a sound halfway between pain and pleasure, and as our kiss deepened, I tasted the iron-salt of his blood in his mouth. The heat of his skin burned me, and I didn’t know if it was fever or desire. His scarred, naked body was so close to mine, and most of me wanted to touch all of him, and let him touch all of me. My heart hammered, eager and scared, curious but too nervous to be steady. My fingers curled into his shoulder, and he flinched.
I pulled away from his mouth. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He brushed a light kiss over my cheek. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, and he drew me close again, tucking my head into the hollow of his neck, filling me up with the scent of his skin and the growing strength in his hands as they smoothed my hair and stroked my face.
And that’s how Treasa found us when the steel door opened with a scraping clang.
I rolled off the bed and landed in a crouch in front of Malachi. My hands traveled automatically to my thighs, but, of course, they’d stripped me of my weapons and gloves before they’d thrown me in here.
Treasa watched my realization with a small smile. Her white-blond hair was in a tight ponytail secured at the base of her neck. She had a wide forehead, a narrow chin, and skin so pale that the only thing that kept me from deciding she was an albino was her blue eyes, which slipped past me and landed on Malachi. “You look better. Much better. Interesting.” Her gaze shifted to me with sharp curiosity.
The soft pat of Malachi’s bare soles on the cement floor told me he was sitting up. “Thank you. I feel better,” he said evenly. “Are you our host?”
Treasa gave us a tight grin. “Only the messenger. You are wanted by the Mazikin, Malachi.” When she saw me stiffen as she said his name, she said, “Don’t be stupid. You were screaming his name, Lela.”
I guessed Malachi had been shouting mine as well.
I tried to brush off the odd feeling of vulnerability that came with this woman knowing our names. “Awesome. So . . . he’s wanted by the Mazikin. Can you tell us something we don’t know?”
“They are like a swarming hive at the moment. Right now, pictures of Malachi’s face are being painted in every district of the city. A trip through the portal is being promised to the Mazikin that turns you in—and a life of comfort is being promised to any human who does the same. We thought it would be safer to hide you here.”
I stood up. From the soft rustle behind me, I could tell Malachi was sliding on the pants that had been left for him. I really didn’t want Treasa to be able to look at all of him, and so I took a step to the side, blocking him from view. “And where, exactly, is here?”
Treasa shifted her weight, like she was bracing in case I attacked. She had one of those long, straight daggers tucked into the belt looped around her narrow waist, and her slender white fingers fluttered toward it. I wondered if she knew how to use it. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed me. “You are the guests of the Tanner.”
“Guests or prisoners?” I asked.
“We don’t take prisoners,” she replied i
n a flat voice.
I felt a solid, warm presence at my back a second before Malachi’s hands came to rest on my shoulders. “You were kind to leave clean water to tend my wounds,” he said to her. “And to provide clothing for me. Please convey our gratitude to the Tanner.”
“You can convey your gratitude to him yourself.” She raised a pale eyebrow as she looked him up and down, and scars or no scars, it was obvious she liked what she saw. “He has granted you an audience.”
Malachi’s grip was steely, a warning. “Wonderful.” He turned to grab the folded leather shirt from the foot of the bed, and I saw how he had to brace himself to keep from falling as he straightened again. I also heard the faintest wheeze as he inhaled, and noticed the anxiety that flashed in his eyes before he pulled the leather tunic shirt over his head, hiding that terrible scar. Protectiveness welled inside of me. I wanted to order him to lie back down. I wanted to tell Treasa where she could shove the Tanner’s invitation.
But I followed Malachi’s lead and even smiled at her as she held the door wide and gestured for us to follow her. I took Malachi’s hand in mine, needing the connection—and the silent means of communication. She led us along a low concrete corridor, past a number of closed steel doors. The way was lit by flickering, primitive bulbs.
Treasa gave me a sidelong glance. “You are nicely recovered from your encounter with the Smith,” she said in an amused voice. “I did not expect to see you walking, let alone fighting, anytime soon.”
“How do you even know about that?”
“It’s my job to know.”
“Were you following us?” I remembered that cloak disappearing behind a corner just before the Smith’s men ambushed us. Takeshi had gone after the person, and I’d never found out what happened.
“Most people stabbed through the gut aren’t killing Mazikin in the square less than a day later,” she said, blithely ignoring my question.
Malachi’s eyes went wide, and I gave him an apologetic look. “I’ve always been a quick healer,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.” She shoved open a steel door and we entered a huge cave-like chamber. Although I was sure the building, like every other in the city, was made of concrete, it felt like I’d crawled into the stenchy embrace of an animal. It smelled like pee and rotten eggs and burned meat. Bile rose in my throat.
Every surface was covered with animal hides. A furry patchwork beneath our feet. Spotted yet smooth irregular shapes covered the walls, stitched together in an unending tapestry of flesh. On either side of us were long tables, crowded with men and women whose attention was riveted to a stage where at least a dozen barely clothed humans were undulating to a low beat played by two others crouched on the floor, pounding on an assortment of drums.
Malachi tugged me a little closer to him. Treasa walked noiselessly to the front of the room, toward a raised platform upon which sat what looked every bit like a throne. It was a wide chair with a high back that extended at least six feet above the seat, upholstered with cream-colored leather. Metal and bone tools—some sort of pliers studded with wicked sharp spikes, knives with barbed tips, and something that looked like an ice pick—were arrayed around the edge of the throne in a kind of deadly frill.
On the throne sat a man. He had dark-blond hair and a beard that was brown around his mouth but lighter where it grew in matted curls around his face. His eyes were blackish brown, as fathomless as Malachi’s. As he watched us approach, his lips, an intense shade of red, curled into an amused smile. “Welcome, Captain,” he said to Malachi in a gravelly voice. His accent told me he was British, or had been at one time. “I’m the Tanner. Do you have any idea how badly the Mazikin want you back?”
“I do,” said Malachi. “Are you going to let them have me?” His voice was steady, but his hand trembled in mine, and now it was my turn to squeeze.
The Tanner chuckled, a thick, phlegmy sound. “That greatly depends on whether our interests are aligned.” His gaze shifted to me. “I heard you caused quite a commotion in the Smith’s yard. There’s buzz all over the city about it.”
I shrugged. “He stabbed me. I don’t like being stabbed.”
The Tanner laughed raucously, and then started to cough, a deep rattle that made me wince. “I’m glad to hear that. And I was even more glad to hear that you decimated that selfish bastard. About time.”
“The Smith is human, like you,” I said. “I’d think you would be allies.”
Next to me, Treasa shifted uncomfortably. “You would be wrong.”
“Too right,” said the Tanner, running one of his huge hands over his unruly beard.
I gestured at his throne. “You’ve certainly got a lot of nice metal tools there.”
The Tanner grunted. “We were allies at one time. Many years ago. But now . . . let’s say we have different visions for the future.”
“Glad to hear it,” I muttered.
“Glad you’re glad,” he said. “I think we could help one another.”
I looked up at Malachi, and he gave me a small smile. “You’re my Captain,” he murmured. “This is your decision.”
“I’m not the Captain anymore,” I whispered. But Ana wasn’t here to make the call.
I turned back to the Tanner to see him surveying me with interest. “Why do the Mazikin give you so much independence?” I asked. “I was told that every human here was a servant.”
He gave me a rueful look. “I’ve been here for a very long time, and because of the way I arrived, I was more able to speak up for myself.”
“The way you arrived?”
He leaned forward, letting his elbows rest on his thighs. “Did you know that the Mazikin managed to find their way to the land of the living?”
I frowned. This dude was definitely not from Rhode Island. But then I recalled Ana telling me that the Mazikin had found their way out of the Shadowlands before. Five hundred years before. “You didn’t come from the dark city, then.”
He shook his bushy head. “Got way too drunk one night and let the wrong people walk me home. Next thing I knew, I was tied to a table.” He pointed across the room at a few men watching the dancers onstage. “Same thing happened to Bartholomew and August over there. We’re from the same town.”
Since the Tanner hadn’t committed suicide, he would never have belonged to the dark city. He’d never have been as depressed and passive and confused as the rest of the humans around him. “So you showed up here and started skinning goats for the Mazikin?” I asked.
He gave me a darkly amused look. “Aye, girl, I’ve been of service to the Mazikin. Not sure I had much choice if I wanted to keep my own skin. But now they trust me, and you should be very glad of that.”
I thought about Takeshi’s hatred of the Smith—and of the man in front of me—for their collaboration with the monsters who controlled this city. And then I felt Malachi’s hand in mine, no longer chained, safe and solid. “At the moment, I am.”
He smirked. “Good. Because I want your help.”
“With what?”
He grinned, revealing his rotting teeth. “I think it’s time for a little rebellion.”
SIXTEEN
BEFORE I COULD REPLY, the Tanner waved his arm, beckoning to someone at the back of the room. The metal door scraped open, and Takeshi and Ana were escorted into the chamber. Malachi made an anguished sound at the sight of them, and Takeshi and Ana’s eyes lasered to him. Malachi let go of my hand as they walked, with guards on either side of them, toward the front of the room.
They came to a halt in front of us. “Captain,” Malachi said to Takeshi, so quietly I could barely hear him.
Takeshi smiled. “Captain,” he said in reply.
Then the two of them strode forward and met in the middle, grasping each other in a fierce hug. Though Malachi was taller and more muscular than his mentor, Takeshi seemed to b
e holding him up for a moment. They pulled apart abruptly, their emotions quickly sinking beneath smooth exteriors, but I could see the tremors of Malachi’s unsteady breaths. It was like there was too much to be said, so they’d decided to say nothing at all.
Takeshi gazed up at the Tanner. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
The Tanner arched an eyebrow. “I never thought the famed and feared scourge of the city would be saying that to me.”
“I never thought I’d be saying it,” Takeshi muttered.
The Tanner snorted, and then gave Ana a distinctly hungry look. “And you’re one of them, too. A Guard.” He smiled wide again, making me shudder. “Four of you. This is an unprecedented opportunity, I’d say.”
“What kind of rebellion are you considering?” I asked, casting a sidelong glance at Ana. The Tanner was creepy in the extreme, but we couldn’t exactly be picky about allies right now. “Because we were considering one, too.”
“I’d never have guessed,” he replied drily. “Tell me what you were planning.”
Ana stepped forward to stand next to me. “You want us to tell you our plans in a roomful of people who could take that information straight to the Queen?”
The Tanner looked around with surprise, at Treasa, at the dancers performing for a host of leather-clad people lounging at the tables along the side of the room, and then back at us. “Everyone here is loyal to me. Traitors are sent to the meat factory.”
I barely concealed my disgust. “How about this, then—you have all the power. I think you can understand why that makes us hesitant to spill our guts.”
“I could spill your guts for you,” Treasa volunteered, her hand on the hilt of her dagger.
Malachi gave her a murderous look. “Try.”
She stared at him like she might enjoy taking him up on the challenge, but then she shrugged.
The Tanner, who had watched the exchange with amusement, held up his hand. “Peace, Treasa. I understand their concern.” His gaze landed on me. “I want to dethrone the Queen. She is the source of misery in this city. With her gone, the Mazikin will be finished.”
