by Sue Tingey
I was disappointed.
*
I would have laughed, if my situation hadn’t been so dire. The cellar where they imprisoned me was as much a set piece as the room upstairs: almost a replica of the cell where Amaliel had kept me before taking off the tip of my little finger. Just the thought of it made me ball my hand into a tight fist.
They manacled me to the wall and left me to contemplate the assortment of vicious-looking implements spread out on a wooden bench a few feet away. Some I remembered from my stay in Amaliel’s care; the others were bright and shiny-new, and far too modern to have come from the Underlands – in fact, I’m pretty sure several came straight out of Dexter’s kit. I wondered whether Amaliel had taken up watching satellite TV during his exile in the Overlands – though I doubted any perverse or disgusting torture thought up by Hollywood could teach him anything.
Rather bizarrely, there was a crystal bowl at one end of the table, together with a matching decanter. I got as close to the table as the chains would allow to take a look. They were actually quite nice pieces, incongruous next to the various instruments of suffering – if there had been goblets, I’d have thought Amaliel used them to torment his captives when they would do anything for a taste of cool, fresh water – but this was probably too subtle for Amaliel; he was more of your down and dirty torturer.
I sank to the floor, which was cold and hard, but the least of my worries. Psycho Bitch hadn’t mentioned Kayla, and I hadn’t asked, not wanting to give Persephone the satisfaction of being able to gloat even more than she was already. Perhaps she’d been lying about Kayla to entice me here? Unlikely …
I leaned back against the wall and did the only thing I could do. I waited.
Part of me wanted to wait for ever. I didn’t want to be tortured and I didn’t want to die horribly, and I especially didn’t want to die at Jinx’s hands. But I also wanted it to all be over – at least I wouldn’t be sitting in a cold cell imagining everything she might be doing to Jinx. I most certainly didn’t want to imagine them together, naked and sweaty and entangled in sheets. I imagined she’d like it rough. I didn’t want to think he might be enjoying it.
No – no. He was gentle and tender, and he loved me. He loved me.
Then the door began to creak open and for a split-second I wished he had enjoyed being with her a little bit more, keeping her busy just a little longer – but yet again I was disappointed. It wasn’t Persephone, but a figure swathed in black: my old pal Amaliel. He closed the door and stood there staring at me, studying me in silence, his eyes burning.
I didn’t bother to get up, but returned the stare.
‘I assume your drakon has gone for reinforcements,’ he said at last. ‘It’s becoming extremely tedious having to continually relocate.’
Relocate? He was certainly picking up the local lingo.
‘Persephone didn’t give me the impression she was going anywhere soon.’
He gave one of his disgusting phlegmy laughs. ‘She’s getting ready to leave as we speak.’
‘What?’ I couldn’t hide my surprise and fear – if she left with Jinx, I might never find him again.
‘You surely don’t think she’s stupid enough to stay and wait for the Guardians?’ He glided towards the bench. ‘Unfortunately, I haven’t the time to deal with you in the manner I would have wished.’ His hand hovered over the array of instruments as I fought to keep my expression calm and my teeth from chattering. ‘The Sicarii are all for your prolonged ritual slaughter, so your private demise will make me extremely unpopular – but to be honest, the Sicarii are becoming tiresome beyond belief.’
‘But they’re your followers.’
He gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘They were useful once, but since you proved that the living could not go into the afterlife and safely return, they have become – well, shall we say, surplus to requirements.’
‘You mean the collecting of souls has become pointless?’
‘To me, yes, though it is and will always be the Sicarii way. No, there were murmurings of discontent at the direction in which I was taking them, which I managed to overcome with promises that here in the Overlands, the Deathbringer would give them millions of souls: that way, humans would flock to join the cult, rather than die. The Sicarii would reign supreme in a way that would never have been possible in the Underlands.’
‘So it is all about power and world domination,’ I sneered. ‘God, you’re like some bloody comic-book villain.’
‘You appear to have forgotten that this “comic-book villain”, whatever that means, is holding your life in his hands.’
He was right; I had. Briefly.
‘Unfortunately, Persephone’s and my joint objectives have clashed with theirs, and once again there are Sicarii jostling to oust me,’ he explained as his forefinger tapped first one and then another of the implements lying on the bench. See? Just like a comic-book villain to explain his dastardly plan, I thought. He lifted a rusty pair of long-handled pincers and an image I had once seen of a similar utensil being used to remove a victim’s tongue floated into my head. Instinctively I clamped my teeth and lips tightly shut and wished I’d done so a lot earlier; preferably before I’d insulted him.
Still holding the pincers he lifted another object to show me. It looked like a pair of metal false teeth. ‘This is an interesting little apparatus.’ He turned it in the light, studying it. ‘It is fitted into the mouth of a habitual liar, a nag, rumourmonger, you get the picture? Then’ – he tapped the handle fitted onto one side with the pincers – ‘this is turned until the mouth is forced open as wide as it can get. After an hour or so, as you can imagine, the pain is excruciating. However, it doesn’t stop there: the screw is turned again and again until the miscreant’s jaws are literally cracked apart.’ He had another merry gurgle. ‘Sadly, I haven’t got a few hours to kill.’ He dropped it back on the table.
He glided over to stand before me. ‘It’s a shame. I’ve been so looking forward to this … I’d thought up a very special death – maybe not quite as painful, and probably quicker, but you would die in terror, your fear so great it would be palpable.’
I frowned up at him, teeth still clamped shut.
‘Instead, I am going to have to make it quick. Such a waste. But first, I have something to show you.’ He reached inside his robe and pulled out a chain on which hung a small glowing tube of blue light. ‘Do you know what this is?’
I shook my head.
He gave another of his disgusting gurgles, his eyes gleaming red. ‘In this crystal I have captured the soul of your sister Kayla. She will remain imprisoned for ever – unless the phial is broken, when she will disperse into the ether as a nothingness, a nonentity, forever lost. Her spirit will perish. There will be nothing anyone can do to save her.’
I studied the pendant, trying to keep my face blank. This was one of the four pieces of jewellery Kubeck’s uncle had made: four crystal phials held in four gold baskets on four gold chains.
He dropped the crystal back inside his robe. ‘I have had to change my plans. I had intended to have the full set: Kayla, you and her idiot father Baltheza – you, however, thwarted my original plan, so now it will have to be just you and Kayla.’
‘You’re vile.’
‘So I’ve been told,’ he said and turned back to the table to peruse his diabolical instruments. He dropped the pincers and his hand moved, tapping first one, then another with his fingertip. For someone in a hurry, he was taking his time – and he could have all the time in the world, as far as I was concerned. His hand rested on the handle of a long serrated blade. Maybe if I could keep him talking for long enough, Jamie would arrive in time to save me. I didn’t like my chances, but if it meant a swift death rather than a painful one, it was something.
‘So who was the fourth crystal for?’ I asked. I wanted to show him I knew something he didn’t think I did.
His hand tightened around the blade’s handle and he slowly raised his head to
stare at me, his eyes glowing red. ‘Fourth?’ he said eventually.
‘You had four made: one for Kayla, one for me, one for Baltheza – so who was the fourth one for?’
He studied me in silence, twisting the evil-looking blade in his bony fingers. ‘I always knew it was a mistake arresting the jeweller for treason. I should have disposed of him.’
‘Of course, then there’s the original crystal,’ I went on. ‘The one you had made for “a special lady”.’
Amaliel strode towards me, grabbed my arm, hauled me to my feet and glowered down at me. ‘Do you know what? I’ve a good mind to take you with us.’ His chest sounded like a bubbling saucepan as he drew in a deep breath. ‘Do you know why?’
I shook my head, terrified, but at the same time curious. What had made him so angry?
‘Because I want to see you suffer. I want to see your despair when your lover walks this world, leaving death in his wake. I want to see your heartbreak when you watch me smash your sister’s phial into a thousand pieces. I want to see you burning inside the Blue Fire. And I want to think of your soul writhing in torment within a crystal bauble hanging around my neck every single day.’ He gave me a vicious shake that rattled my teeth, then threw me against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me. ‘Fortunate for you that I can’t.’
‘The first crystal—’ I gasped ‘—the first crystal – who was it for?’ Judging by his reaction it was important, worth risking his anger to get the answer.
His hand went inside his robe and this time when it reappeared an amethyst crystal dangled from his fingers, glowing and flaring in the torchlight.
‘You ask – but are you sure you really want to know?’ He held the crystal about six inches from my nose. ‘Are you?’
I lifted my hand to touch it, and the stone in the ring on my finger suddenly sparked red fire from within its depths. He snatched the crystal back from me and enfolded it in his fist. ‘You wear her ring!’ he said, his voice accusatory.
I froze as the realisation of what he’d just said hit me. At last I knew what had happened to my mother.
He turned back to the table in a flurry of black, clearly agitated that he’d betrayed his secret. Baltheza had hinted that Amaliel had somehow convinced him to have Veronica executed and he’d ever since regretted it – he’d probably regret it even more if he knew what had become of her.
When Amaliel swung back around to face me, he was holding the serrated blade in his right hand and a steel hook attached to a leather strap in his left.
‘I am going to make you wish that you’d never been born,’ he spat.
‘But not now, I’m afraid,’ a voice said apologetically, and when I managed to drag my eyes away from the seriously scary-looking apparatus hanging from Amaliel’s outstretched hand, I saw Joseph standing in the doorway.
Amaliel spun around. ‘Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t—!’
Joseph held up a hand, halting Amaliel mid-flow. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger! The Guardians are but a few minutes away. If we don’t leave now it’ll be game over.’
‘This isn’t a game.’
Joseph shrugged. ‘If you’re going to kill her then just get on with it.’
Amaliel threw the hook onto the table with such force that several instruments clattered to the ground, then he was coming at me, the serrated blade raised to head-height.
I moved as fast as I could, throwing myself as far away from him as the chains would allow, but it was no good: I was about to die and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Amaliel started to laugh. ‘Not so brave now, unlucky Lucky de Salle.’
I could feel a scream building up in my throat. He was right, I wasn’t feeling brave at all. He swung the blade at my head, and I dropped to my knees, throwing up my hands in front of my face and praying somehow the manacles and chain would offer some protection.
‘Joseph, where the fuck are you?’ Persephone shrieked from upstairs, just as the blade glanced off the chain, sending sparks flying.
Amaliel snarled and drew back his arm again—
‘Joseph! Amaliel! The Guardians will be here any minute!’
‘You’ve just run out of time,’ Joseph said. ‘Come on.’
‘She has to die,’ Amaliel said.
‘Joseph,’ she shrieked again, and Amaliel snarled furiously and grabbed me by the wrist. He pulled me to my feet and in a deft movement, let go of my wrist and gripped me around the throat before holding the blade so it was hovering above my right eye.
‘Joseph!’
‘Does that woman never shut up?’ Amaliel muttered over his shoulder and I heard a snort of laughter from behind him.
The serrated blade filled my vision. I was going to die.
‘But not today,’ a voice whispered in my head, as though it had suddenly occurred to my inner daemon that I needed a bit of help, and I clenched my hands together and struck out at Amaliel’s arm, knocking it aside.
‘Bitch!’ he spat as I started struggling in his grasp, kicking out at him as hard as I could – then I started to feel warm, and I didn’t need to glance down at myself to know I was shimmering golden.
‘What the f—?’ Joseph muttered.
Amaliel abruptly let go of my throat and just as suddenly, dropped the knife: the blade was glowing red, clearly too hot to handle. He couldn’t touch me while I was like this.
I grinned and tried to advance on him, but the chains held me back.
He took a step away from me, his red eyes flaring, and as he did, I caught a glimpse of something glistening on the sleeve of his robe, as though it was traced with golden thread, then it was gone. I must have imagined it.
Joseph hurried forward and grabbed Amaliel by the arm. ‘Leave her,’ he said, pulling him towards the door. ‘Leave her before it’s too late.’
Amaliel hissed. ‘Next time. Next time, Soulseer. Next time you die.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Joseph said, still tugging at his arm. ‘But there won’t be a next time if I don’t get your skinny ass out of here now.’
Amaliel spun around and pushed past Joseph, ready to sweep out of the door – but at the last moment he stopped, glided back to the table and snatched up the crystal bowl and decanter. And despite all the other craziness spinning around in my head, I couldn’t help but think it weird that Amaliel was somehow emotionally connected to a couple of pieces of homeware. Joseph moved aside to let him pass, then stood for a moment looking at me.
‘My, my, my, aren’t you full of surprises,’ he said with a pleasant smile.
I kept quiet.
‘I’m beginning to understand why Amaliel is so desperate to get you out of the way.’ Then he laughed. ‘Be seeing you, Lucky.’ He went to leave, then turned back to me, his smile gone. ‘Don’t underestimate them,’ he said. ‘They have every intention of ruling this world and they’ll play dirty to do it. Can you do that? Can you play dirty?’
He looked me straight in the eyes for several seconds before giving a small nod, then leaving without another word.
I stared after him, nonplussed. What was that all about? Then I sat back down on the floor and waited. My guards would be here soon and in the meantime, I had plans to make. As well as Kayla’s phial, I would also have to take my mother’s from Amaliel – she might not have been much of a parent to me, but I doubted she’d had much choice in the matter. I wondered whether she’d left my father and me under her own volition, or whether she’d been snatched away by Baltheza, or even Amaliel? There had to be some reason why he kept her spirit in a phial hanging from a chain about his neck.
I stretched out my foot, and slowly, carefully, managed to drag back the blade Amaliel had dropped until my grasping fingers closed around the hilt. I was working on the chain holding the manacles to the wall when a door slammed back on its hinges and feet pounded on stone stairs; my heart did a little flip as Jamie appeared, framed within the doorway.
He stood there for a split-sec
ond and in that moment, several emotions passed across his face: relief, concern, and the one that made my battered heart beat a little faster: love. I might not be able to trust him completely in some things, but when it came to how he felt for me, that was something I couldn’t doubt.
He leaped across the room and dropped to his knees, pulling me into his arms and hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe. ‘I’ve been so worried about you,’ he murmured, and then released me slightly so he could look at me. ‘Are you all right? Are you hurt? Did Jinx hurt you? If he did—’
I pressed my fingers against his lips. ‘Yes, no and no. Jinx would never hurt me,’ I told him, pushing the memory of his hands around my throat from my mind. Jamie didn’t need to know about that.
He looked into my eyes, and then he was kissing me and I felt so safe within his arms that I never wanted him to let me go. It was always like this: they both made me feel this way, which was why I needed both of my men, together.
There was a cough from across the room: two daemons who looked like angels and could have easily been Jamie’s brothers were standing at the door.
‘The Deathbringer isn’t here,’ one said.
‘Does the woman know where he is?’ the other asked.
The woman? ‘I wouldn’t tell you if I did,’ I muttered under my breath so they wouldn’t hear, although Jamie did.
‘What about the Sicarii? Do they know anything?’ Jamie asked the Guardians.
‘As good as nothing – they say Amaliel and the woman Persephone abandoned them.’
Jamie hopped up onto his feet. ‘Are there any pliers?’ he asked, moving over to the bench.
‘James,’ one angel said, ‘it might be better if she remains restrained? Release the chains from the wall, but perhaps keep her hands manacled—’
‘What—?’ I scrambled to my feet.
‘Some say she cannot be considered a friendly influence,’ the other said, completely ignoring me.
