Someone screamed. It might have come from my own mouth. Except for the ones amplifying the pain, all my senses were disoriented. Nothing was recognizable except for the pain.
A curtain had been pulled, and all I could see were shadows morphing and elongating like stretched clay figures. Ghosts evaporated into wisps of nothing as they streaked around me like kites maneuvering through the darkness. I tumbled around the sky with them, as each step I attempted landed over the edge of a cliff. Over and over I flipped like a human pinwheel. When the spinning finally stopped, the shapes began to fade and the screaming lowered to a whimper. I stopped fighting, and in that moment of resignation, I realized that the shadows were my own. I was the thing contorting out of control in the darkness. I was the thing that I was terrified of.
Something worse was coming. Streaks of silver spun past me, slowing down to leer with what I sensed was predatory interest. I could smell them. An earthy scent of dirt and must saturated the small amount of air I managed to breathe in through my nose.
I was moving again, stumbling in the dark, my neck burning from the strap digging into my flesh as something dragged me through a tunnel. I’m not a dog. I tried to say the words, but I think it was more of a thought than an actual sound, since my vocal cords were crushed against my windpipe.
The pain began to fade as I stopped moving. I was going completely numb. First it was my feet, then my legs. Limb by limb I was blessed with the feeling of nothing. I thought I was dying.
Leda was right. I tried to pull my arms from the awkward position they were in, but they wouldn't move. Through the film covering my eyes, I could see thick cuffs circling my wrists. I was manacled to a wall. The room was pitch-black except for an annoying light beamed directly at me.
The shock of cold against my back propelled me forward, and I realized I was naked. I was manacled to a wall with a harsh stream of light beating against my bare skin.
Beyond the light was a void of darkness concealing my captors. I squirmed against the cold wall as they watched me anonymously, but they couldn’t hide the smell. As clever as they were at hiding on the other side of that light, they couldn’t hide their offensive scent.
“I know you’re there,” I said in a flat tone, trying to mask my fear because I had no doubt that’s exactly what they wanted. “I can smell you.”
A chilling laugh snaked through the air as the light began to recede and share the room with the darkness, neutralizing the space into a soft glow. A set of kneecaps came into view, and I could make out the shadows of two people sitting about ten feet in front of me.
“Well…the elusive daughter returns.” His voice was as cold as his eyes, and I wondered if frost was emitting from his mouth as he spoke. “We underestimated you. Shame on us.”
I could see the shadow of a head slowly shaking in conjunction with the self-admonishment.
“I can assure you, it won’t happen again.” His voice was deceptively soft, laced with restrained aggression.
“Can we get you anything?” the other one asked. It was the woman. “A cigarette, perhaps?”
“Thanks a bunch, but I don’t smoke. Some clothes would be nice, though.” I don’t know why my fear subsided in the few minutes since opening my eyes, but each word from their mouths fueled the urge to free myself and rip the jugulars from their uber-icy necks.
Wolves, I thought. Had to be, or else I was dealing with yet another formidable enemy in an already overcrowded field of players.
“Yes,” The female said as she turned and smiled at the male to her right.
The light grew brighter, revealing the snow king and queen I’d seen earlier that night. Those eyes were shocking from a distance, but now that they were trained directly on me, the lethal intelligence of the predators they belonged to was evident.
“Hmm…love the lipstick,” I said to the male whose lips were just as bright as the female’s. “You really need to tell me what shade that is.”
The cocky grin disappeared from his face right about the time hers appeared.
His head jerked in her direction.
“What?” she said to him. “It was amusing.”
I wanted to say something along the lines of: so, you’re the dogs, or a good bath with take care of that smell.” But I wasn’t ready to die, and I’d already pressed my luck.
“Vargr?”
Neither one acknowledged my question, but their unified expression of arrogance told me there was no doubt about who or what they were. I was pretty sure I was looking at my mother’s killers.
“Did you kill her?” I felt no need to beat around the bush. If this was the day I died, there’d be no need to hide their crime. I deserved the truth.
Their pupils dilated for a second before reshaping into long slits, and I knew the movement was involuntary. Blood was their pleasure. They stank of it, and I had no doubt mine would be spilled just as easily as my mother’s once they were done with me.
The male looked at his partner, holding her gaze for a few seconds before looking back at me. “Of course.” His brow tightened from the ridiculousness of the question. His chair creaked as he leaned forward to punctuate his next words. “Maeve Kelley tasted of pure magic.” He watched my face for a reaction before easing back into the chair and crossing his long, slender legs. I could feel the air leaving my lungs as he took his own therapeutic breath before finishing the assault. I don’t think his objective was to hurt me, but to derive his own pleasure from the memory. In either case, he succeeded with his next words.
“The heart of a true Raven is a rare thing. Maeve’s was exceptionally…rich.”
A knot balled up in the center of my stomach as an image forced its way inside my head. I couldn’t stop the picture from forming. These were machines, bred to feed off of blood, fear, and emotion. The image of my mother’s beating heart in the mouth of a dog incited enough emotion in me to feed them for days. What they hadn’t counted on was my rage.
It took only a second for him to be off his chair and inches from my face. His breath quickened as agitation radiated from his eyes, and for a moment, his reaction seemed almost human.
His brows furrowed as he cocked his head to study my face. “So weak. I expected so much more from the daughter of a Raven.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I said.
His right arm reached toward me and I braced myself for a blow. A smirk crept up one side of his face as he took my hair in his hand and yanked my head down. He felt across my scalp with his other until his fingers stopped on the mark. He didn’t have to feel it. He could sense it.
With his hand still on the mark, he pulled my head back to look me in the eye. “What will your heart taste like?”
It wasn’t fear that made me want to vomit. It was the traitorous feeling of lust creeping up my torso. The bastard was fucking with me, and I was responding. Greer said they were cunning, and now I knew what he meant.
“Dustov,” the female purred, “as they say, business before pleasure.”
Well, didn’t that elicit a sinister smile out of her. I had no doubt my heart was big enough for two, and this Arctic bitch had every intention of savoring in the blood caviar of my life force right alongside her mate.
A delicacy, am I?
My fear should have been escalating, but instead it was vanishing. I had no idea where the fear blocking armor was coming from. I knew one thing for sure: if I survived this, they would not.
“Tell me, Alex, where is the amulet?” His eyes slowly raked along the length of my face, taking in every feature.
Why does everyone keep asking me that? It’s in my fucking back pocket.
“I don’t have it. But if you find it, please give it back—it’s mine.”
Apparently this did not amuse him, because the residual pain from earlier in the evening suddenly escalated tenfold. I screamed as it ripped through me.
Dustov—as she called him—drew closer so his lips grazed the edge of my ear. His flesh was surprisingly warm
for such a cold-looking thing. “Do you want to know what my only regret was, Alex?” I ignored the bait. “My only regret was that Maeve wasn’t a virgin.”
“Oh, not that old cliché. I thought you wolves were supposed to be clever.”
He pulled back so I could get a good look at his face. The left side of his mouth twitched, and a deep inhalation of pleasure rolled over his chest as he closed his eyes to visualize whatever sick thoughts were rolling around his head. “It may be a cliché, little Raven,” he said as his hand slipped between my thighs, “but the taste and feel of purity couldn’t be more potent.”
I fought the urge to tense as he touched me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Maybe to a pedophile.” His eyes didn’t even flutter from the insult. To his kind, it probably wasn’t one.
“Are you a virgin?” His finger slid inside of me, and the cocky smirk vanished from his face. “No. I see that someone had already gotten to you. That keeper of yours?” He took his time removing his hand, and then he looked at his partner who was breathing like a rabid dog, ready to come out of her chair. When his eyes snapped back to mine, he was armed with a new weapon. “Maeve was used, too. But even so, her sex was exquisite.” He leaned closer and whispered against my cheek. “I could come just thinking about how soft it was.”
My mouth dropped open just enough for an inaudible bubble of sound to escape. I replayed his words because I wanted to make sure I understood what he’d just said. All these years of thinking about how she died, I never once considered that an act other than the actual knife cutting off her life could have been the worst of it.
The slits in his eyes began to expand until there was nothing but black filling the two sockets above his cheekbones. I stared into them, looking for a trace of something to tell me I’d gotten it wrong. But he just studied my reaction, drinking in all my pain and shock like a dry sponge. He leaned in, and I felt a cold sensation followed by a sharp sting as he pressed his lips to mine. He pulled back and ran his tongue over the red fluid staining his mouth—my blood.
“You didn’t think we just ate her, did you?”
I always knew there was something dark inside of me—my own private posse. I could see it in the corner of my mind, waiting patiently for the gun to go off, working to keep the peace inside of me.
The imagination can be very cruel. Mine was exceptionally vivid. Images of my mother, lying in a pool of blood with her legs forced apart, filled my head. The harder I tried to shake them, the more vivid they became. Dogs crawling on top of her, jerking against her body as her breath slowed and then stopped. What a relief it must have been to let go of that last lungful of air.
I lifted my eyes to his and looked into those black pools as deep as they’d allow me to go. For a good minute, I studied him from the inside, taking in his smell and his memories until I knew my opponent.
“What?” His sneer disappeared as he took an involuntary step backward.
Now he knew what it felt like to have something stolen.
Blood serves no one but its own people. Maeve was my people, and this blood was for her. I watched from the corner of the ceiling as my darkness took issue with my captors. It wasn’t much of a fight, really.
Who are you? I asked myself, watching with horror, pride, and just a bit of my own bloodlust.
The room resembled a kaleidoscope of color as chunks of visceral confetti filled the air. What were once strands of silver were now dyed a deep crimson, giving warmth to their cold, icy heads. Even their blue eyes turned as the strangling pop of blood vessels released pools of red through the whites, dulling their frosty glare.
How does one describe the sensation of going au naturel, discovering the true exhibitionist living under your very own skin? It’s like letting go of poison and exhaling the toxins that weaken your muscles and muddy your mind. I’d never felt such a hunger for life, for blood. But it was my own blood I craved. I could feel it coursing through my veins like a true life force, not just a liquid required to sustain my organs. I was awake, and for the first time, I appreciated every moment of my small, pathetic life.
I looked around the dark prison, taking in the volumes of flesh and entrails messing up the floor. “Did I do this?” I asked out loud, kicking a piece of Dustov to the side to clear my path. A giddy laugh crept up from my throat. I caught it before it burst from my mouth, because it was disrespectful to make light of dead animals.
My head cocked as a noise came from somewhere in the room. I instinctively positioned my ear to pinpoint the source, and I moved in the direction of where the sound was coming from without a smidge of fear clouding my newly sharpened senses. The sound was coming from a wall on the far side of the room. There were no doors or windows to explain it, just a sound coming from the solid wall. Something slick on the floor sent me sliding forward, close enough to detect a faint clicking sound I shouldn’t have been able to hear.
Click click click—or was it a tick? A second later I was moving backward, flying until my back hit the wall where my manacles had once been anchored. I inhaled a lungful of particles as drywall and cement dust clouded the room. Not a single thing was visible except for a bright hole that now served as an impromptu door.
As the dust settled, a large silhouette stood in the center of the opening. Greer stepped through the rubble, scanning the room slowly to take in every detail, every drop of blood. I waited for his eyes to reach mine, but when they did, his expression remained cold as if he was looking right through me.
I fell to my knees as my heart opened like a river for the first time. He approached tentatively as if he wasn’t sure it was me, but then his stride picked up and he came straight at me. But my blood went cold as I sensed something dark emitting from his face. His expression grew mechanical with each step, and I knew I wasn’t looking at the Greer I’d shared a roof with. The man coming at me was on autopilot.
A flash of steel cut the space between us as he pulled a shiny dagger from its sheath.
Stupid, I thought. How stupid I am.
Of all the emotions I felt at that moment, it was the feeling of loss that drove through me like a freight train. I’d lost the one thing I needed and finally had the courage to fight for. Someone had successfully snuck behind the wall, but it turned out to be a Trojan horse. How could I, the daughter of a Raven, not see?
As the dagger lifted high in the air above me, I resigned myself to the cruel twist and welcomed the relief it would bring. Those magnificent eyes pierced down at me as I searched for something that would explain how everything had gone so wrong.
“You said you’d protect me,” I whispered.
As the light blazed through the entrance of what was now my living hell, one word came from Greer’s lips before the blade came down.
“Always.”
THIRTY-ONE
Like melting ice, I reluctantly let go of my host and slid to the bottom of a warm pool. I could feel his hands on my body as the water circulated around my skin.
I lifted my right arm to stop Greer from descending on top of me. But before I could fully extend my hand to block him, the cold shock of being pulled from the warm water stopped me. Pink waves sloshed against a wall of white porcelain as I lifted into the cool air. My eyes panned the room. The air wasn’t filled with dust, and there was no smoke irritating the membranes of my lungs. The smell of old pennies and sweat was gone.
I was home.
“What did you do?” I cried, just before my face pressed into the heat of his neck. I stiffened against him as he crushed me to his bare chest with the elegance of a lion holding a dying gazelle. Then he lowered me to the bathroom floor where we knelt facing each other.
“I’m bleeding,” I said.
“It’s not your blood.”
“You tried to kill me.”
His breath warmed my face as he leaned closer and whispered. “I had to try.”
Pieces of the puzzle began to form. I was beginning to remember what had happened between the time I
left Shakespeare’s Library, and the time I ended up in a bathtub full of bloodstained water.
I was in a room with wolves, then there was blood, and Greer was holding a very large knife over my head. The floodgates were open and memories of my night in that dungeon poured in. I remembered evading his strikes effortlessly, smiling back at him as we circled each other through a cloud of dust. We were equals, and we both knew it. We danced around each other like seasoned assassins, and he watched me with awe as a revelation bloomed.
We went on like this for hours. I suspected Greer was more interested in testing my abilities than doing battle. The night played like a master class in ninja warfare, the master being Greer as he skillfully pushed me to my limits. I, on the other hand, wanted to rip his throat out. Lucky for him, he’s better. The night ended when he extended his hand and spoke in a language I didn’t recognize, gentling a spooked colt on shaky legs.
We stared at each other while my memories sank in. It was Greer who broke the silence when he reached into the pocket of his pants and extracted a small object. He opened his palm to display my small bone charm.
“That’s mine.”
“Yes,” he said. Then he led my hand around to his back where a raised scar marked the termination point of his elaborate tattoo. “It’s mine, too.”
I’d never noticed the scar before, but I could feel it now as he moved my hand over it.
I saw it as clearly as if it were a film replaying in front of me. I was around four or five years old. I knew this because my mother was standing next to me. Greer was crouched in front of me at eye level, rolling my gift from the faeries between his fingers like a magician doing sleight of hand with a coin.
This is your own private connection to me. Hide it, and never let go of it. And if you ever need me, you call.
The last thing I remembered was nodding to him as he put the bone in my tiny palm and squeezed my fingers around it.
The Amulet Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 1) Page 28
