by Hati Bell
“There’s no darkness in you,” she told him, barely conscious. “I love the man you are…”
The jeans slipped from her fingers. “Oh, God, Drake.”
“Finally,” Logan said, sounding relieved. “And I didn’t even have to suggest shock therapy.”
“Where is he?” She looked at Matteo, her eyes narrowed. “What did Logan mean with Drake enjoying your hospitality?”
Matteo adjusted his tie, his jaw clenched. “I will be right back.” Then he disappeared right before her eyes as if gone up in smoke.
Her mouth dropped open and she looked at Logan quizzically but he just grabbed her hands. She winced out of habit when he touched her skin, but to her surprise she didn’t have a vision. The urgency in Logan’s voice dragged her back to the problem at hand.
“I haven’t seen my brother in days. It took a while before we had Namaka pinned down and duct-taped. It’s the only reason why Matteo agreed to awaken you from your slumber. Now that you’re awake he doesn’t have any reason to help me out anymore. You have to make him take you to Drake. Before you father cuts off his claws and scorches his scales.” He picked her clothes up and pushed them in her hands once again.
“What are you talking about? My father would never hurt him.” He was a full-blood human and didn’t hate dragons with the passion that dryads did. While she mused over Logan’s words, another memory hit her. One that filled her with resentment. “My dad… I heard him talk with Meg. My grandmother told him that he isn’t my real father.”
Logan’s face turned blank. “I have to tell you something…” He spun around when a waft of smoke reached their noses.
Next to the cabinets near the sink stood Matteo and a teenager. The boy had red highlights adorning his black hair. He wore red headphones and a FC Barcelona track suit. She vaguely thought about how Ian would tease him with his choice of a football club. Where was her brother, anyway? Why was she surrounded by a dragon and strange phoenixes instead of by her family?
“Hi there,” the boy said in a cheery tone. “I’m Namaka Green Oshiro, England, during Queen Elizabeth II.”
During Queen Elizabeth II? Right. She wasn't even going to ask. She greeted him back and then looked back at Matteo. “Take me to Drake,” she demanded.
Namaka’s eyes widened. “She wants to go to an inferi? While Crassus waits for her?”
This earned him a frown from Matteo, but he didn’t seem to notice. Matteo snapped his fingers. “Grab her stuff. There is a suitcase in that closet.” He walked up to her and put his arms under her legs. “Let’s go home.”
Logan started to pull her arm and Amber was forced to hold on to Matteo’s shoulders to keep her balance. “You said you’d go through fire for me. Prove it. Take me to your home, to Drake.”
“He is no longer at my house.”
She sighed, suddenly feeling so tired. “Listen. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t believe you.” How could she? She'd just met the guy.
“You’re his promesi,” Namaka sputtered from the closet door. “He can’t lie to you, not even if he wanted to.”
Oh? Amber felt the phoenix tighten.
Matteo shook his head and sighed. “Stop trying to help me, Namaka. Find a pair of wings and tell Crassus I’m on my way.”
“But I haven’t packed every—”
“Go. Now.”
Namaka put his headphones back on and waved at her right before he walked out of the door.
“We’re leaving as soon as I’m dressed,” Amber said, giving him a look that said she was in no mood to argue.
Logan looked from Amber, who was getting dressed on the other side of the room, to Matteo standing next to him. “So, you are bounded to her in some magic phoenix way making it impossible for you to lie to her. Bummer.” Brutal honesty. It must be the worst thing for a relationship. Then another thought hit him. “Crassus obviously wanted to keep her comatose, but you don’t seem too sad that she’s awake. Why do I have this feeling we did your dirty job?” Come to think of it, it was strange that the phoenix had accepted his deal without demanding a dragon promise. He had been totally prepared—yet dreading—the moment he had to make one.
The phoenix curled up his lip. “Why do I have the feeling that you think I actually care about your feelings?”
“You wanted her awake,” Logan guessed.
Matteo twisted a cuff link. “You would not be able to grasp my motives, draconi.”
Only he did all too well. “You want to win her over on your own,” he guessed. “That’s why you didn’t stop Drake from finding Crassus. If you’d let her sleep until Drake had died of old age, and then she had chosen you, you would never be sure if you’d won. The game isn’t a game without a challenge.”
Matteo gave him a pointed look. “Takes one to know one.”
NINE
If you’re going through hell, keep going. Oddly enough it was Churchill’s words chiming through Drake’s head when his nails were extracted and two fingertips followed. That had been in the beginning. Days ago. When he’d first woken up inside the hall of a Gothic castle, he’d registered three things: his wounds had been patched up and he was hanging naked from a support beam. Somewhere in between being transported from Matteo Lancaster’s cellar to his new abode his body must have turned into his dragon mode and had healed itself. After that, someone had put nails through his wrists. The third, and most disturbing, was the row of sharp objects placed on the large oak table in the center of the room. He hung near a stone fireplace that stood to one side of the room and that provided him no warmth at all. He shivered from the cold in the sparsely lit room and the blood loss. He turned his head when he heard someone approaching.
“Benvenuto all’inferno, draconi.”
Welcome to hell, dragon.
The same bloody greeting every day. A moment later an all-too-familiar face loomed over him. It hadn’t taken long before he had met El Diablo. The overgrown bane of his existence wore a leather mask as if he was starring in some medieval torture scene.
“Is it a new day already?” he asked, feigning surprise as if every second here hadn’t felt like an eternity.
The phoenix pushed his whip beneath Drake’s chin. “I’m asking you again: where is Crassus’ daughter?”
Drake blinked. The hearth-fire was reflecting in the crystal chandeliers on the ceiling and hurt his ravaged eyes. “Call Crassus and I will talk,” he repeated once again.
“You are nothing more than a flea in his hide, dirt beneath his feet. He doesn’t concern himself with inferi. End your suffering by answering a simple question: where is his daughter?”
“With me. She’s with me.” It was time to drop his shit on Kincaid’s doorstep. Not even Alec Kincaid would stand by knowing his grandson was being tortured. If only Logan and Benn would succeed in their mission…
“How stupid do you think I am?” the phoenix hissed.
“On a scale of one to ten? An eleven.” This earned him a punch to his kidneys and he grunted.
“I’ve been doing this job since the great Genghis Khan concurred the world, making his enemies shake in their boots when hearing his name. I’ve been at this job when the ancestors of your ancestors were still slaves under Roman rule,” El Diablo spat at him. “After a while you hear things. Like how Kincaid despises my kind and would never allow one into his home. Besides, he has an agreement with our king. They don’t touch each other’s families. Not after that incident with Crassus and Ariana Kincaid. I will cut out your tongue for this lie.”
Since his every muscle hurt in excruciating pain, Drake refrained from frowning. He hadn’t know anything about a connection between Crassus and his grandmother. “I don’t mean to be a spoilsport, but how am I supposed to answer your questions without a tongue?” He bit his lip to keep from screaming when El Diablo put a burning hand on his face and held it there for half a minute. Phoenix fire wasn’t like any other fire; it fucking hurt. The smell of burned flesh made him gag. If it weren�
��t for the chains he was hanging down from, his legs would give out.
I will not break.
The phoenix walked away, his voice agitatedly talking to his phone and his free hand gesturing wildly. Drake was no longer surprised by the bizarre contrast between the medieval setting and a smartphone.
El Diablo put his phone in his pocket and spun around. “Crassus is on his way,” he clipped and put his whip on the table.
Finally.
“Because you failed,” Drake surmised. Something in his tone must have set the phoenix off, because El Diablo suddenly grabbed a knife from the table.
He demonstratively held the knife near Drake’s face. “It has been a long time since I couldn’t make someone speak,” he said, right before he stabbed the knife in Drake’s left eye.
Bombs exploded inside his head. His intentions of standing proud and tall flew out the window as he screamed his lungs out. His body went completely slack. The pain from his mutilated eye socket radiated to every part of his core. Only when his body was sagging like a suspended lump of flesh, the phoenix pulled the knife out. Drake felt more dead than alive when El Diablo went up in smoke.
He stared, dismayed, at the growing puddle of blood at his feet. The throbbing pain in his eye was all he could think of and feel. More blood oozed out and covered the tattoo on his chest. The red dragon he shared with Logan and Benn was besmirched with blood and scars. For one shameful second he thought about giving up, just throwing in the towel. His mission had turned into a disaster. Logan had been right; Crassus wouldn’t help him. He had called for him several times, to no avail. If they couldn’t get their hands on Lancaster’s pupil and forced him to wake Amber, it was over. What was the use in enduring more torture?
He lifted his head when he smelled fire and smoke again. Before him stood a sturdy man in a three-piece grey suit and a stern expression. “Marcus Licinius Crassus,” Drake whispered, inwardly cursing his hoarse voice.
The phoenix cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of me.” His tone implied he hadn’t expected anything else.
Behind him a waiter with fancy silverware and expensive-looking plates traced inside and started setting the table.
“Who hasn’t heard of Crassus?” Drake said. “When a man goes into history as richer than God, he’s hard to forget.”
“That phrase was actually coined after me,” the phoenix assured him. “Before the Romans and Etruscans set foot on Earth, I was worshiped as a god.”
“Good to know.”
After Crassus had seized him up from all angles, he came to a halt at his left side. No doubt to make a point. “Son of Kincaid, you honor your name.”
It didn’t sound like a compliment. Nor did Drake feel very honored. “Could you stand on my other side? I’m kind of missing an eye on this side.”
Crassus ignored his request. “You know what I want, draconi. Give me Amber’s location. It is unacceptable that a daughter of mine is in a Kincaid’s hands.”
Drake pushed his toes on to the floor, forcing his body to stand upright. “You remind me of Kincaid. Can’t stand him either. Torture me all you want; I won’t talk. Not without your promise that you will awaken Amber.”
Crassus seemed to ponder his words. “Odd. You renounce your grandfather, yet he knows you like no one else. He predicted this would be your reaction when I spoke to him yesterday.”
Kincaid knew he was detained and tortured and just left him here? Even though their relationship was strained—to say the least—he oddly still felt a pang in his heart. “Then you also know this interrogation is useless.”
“Perhaps,” Crassus conceded, “but I will not allow a Kincaid to kidnap another child of mine. Amber will not follow Hector’s fate.”
“Hector?”
Crassus’ irises flamed up. “You will break,” he snapped. “Everyone does, eventually.”
I will not break! Drake swallowed. You said you wouldn’t yell either… He ignored his inner conflict, refusing to show fear. “See, I have this peculiar habit of getting pissed off and refusing to talk when I get tortured.”
“I believe you,” Crassus said, much to his surprise as he gestured to the hall. “Three generations of Kincaids have been tortured in the hall of Borgo Castle and none of them spoke. I will have to do with the pleasure your pain gives me.”
“That’s a touching anecdote.” His ankle slipped on the slippery floor plastered with his blood, making him lose his balance. He hissed when his shoulder popped out of its socket. “Why won’t you wake your own daughter?”
Crassus stared at Drake’s maimed eye. “As usual, El Diablo’s work is impeccable,” he said and sat at the head of the table. The waiter had already left, leaving behind a formally dressed table as Drake had seen during official functions at the Dome.
Drake glared at the phoenix, simmering from the inside. Not only did Crassus ignore his questions, but they seemed to whet his appetite.
For the next fifteen minutes phoenix after phoenix traced into the hall, wearing chef’s whites, talking in different accents. None of them even gave him a glance, though he was hanging from the ceiling like a piece of bloody meat.
“Egg noodles from Xian.”
“Boeuf à la bourguignonne.”
“Insalata caprese.” The chef who had served the salad beamed when he presented the dessert. “Panna cotta.”
Drake’s mouth watered from all the delicious aromas filling the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
As soon as the last chef had left, Crassus started to eat of a feast worthy of kings. He took his time and–shocker–didn’t offer Drake anything. After half an hour Crassus put down his wine glass and rose from his chair.
The phoenix stopped right before Drake, his timeless-looking eyes staring right through him. “Our recent laws don’t allow us to breed a child with an inferi anymore. I have kept to these rules for centuries. Amber’s mother was … an anomaly.”
Although he was relieved the phoenix was speaking to him again, now Drake had another thing to worry about. “What if your kind find out she’s your daughter?”
“It is not a secret. Though your kind would call it a public secret. My followers would not dare to harm my daughter.”
“How can you be so sure?” You pompous ass.
“Rules are for common folk; exceptions for the nobility.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m obscenely rich and a king. A simple indiscretion will not be held against me.”
Oh, yeah, pompous was only the tip of the iceberg to describe Crassus. Cocky bastard. “This still doesn’t explain why–”
Crassus started pacing. “Breaking one rule doesn’t equate to me breaking my most fundamental one: never show weakness. Waking Amber before her time would show my enemies that she is of value to me. Aside from that, I have another reason to keep her hibernating. I was told my daughter has feelings for you. This means there is a possibility–however minuscule–that she could choose you above her promesi and go against my wishes. If she awakens from her coma when you have died of old age, this problem would solve itself. It has been a few centuries since I lived amongst inferi. I was told that daughters during this age no longer live under the rule of their patriarch.” He frowned as if this was a foreign concept to him.
Drake snorted. “Really. And who sprouted this piece of wisdom to you?”
“Matteo’s pupil Namaka was an unexpected source of information. Namaka was born in this age and has learned the local social conventions.”
He was talking with a freaking dinosaur. Drake didn’t even know where to begin.
Suddenly two phoenixes appeared near the fireplace. His heart sank when he recognized Namaka. Fuck. Logan and Benn must have failed. Namaka had been his only weapon to get Lancaster to cooperate.
Namaka gave him the stink-eye and put his headphones around his neck.
“Namaka has told me that in this day and age young women cannot be forced into certain things anymore,” Crassus continued. “Rallied by
women such as Donna and Yonce, they apparently rebel against the head of their family.”
Namaka rolled his eyes. “You mean Madonna and Beyoncé, Uncle Crassus. Didn’t you watch the YouTube films I sent you?” He took his phone from his pocket and pulled a face. “No wifi. Why am I not surprised?” He tapped the phoenix next to him on the shoulder. “Thanks for the lift, mate. You can add me to the lift pool as soon as I get my wings.” He walked to Crassus’ side and whispered something in his ear.
Then, more smoke, and like a Jack-in-a-box Drake saw Matteo appear, followed by a shriek. One he would recognize out of a thousand voices.
He started trembling, barely holding it together. He had learned to hate the world. Soulless as he felt, it wasn’t very difficult. But when his eyes locked with Amber’s, it felt as if his soul were on fire.
TEN
Amber didn’t want to believe what her eyes were showing her. Drake hung limp from the ceiling of a dark and cold room, his toes scraping the floor, swaying on his feet. For a moment all she could do was stare at his mutilated body. Next to him stood a man in a grey suit. After her shocked reaction, a silence fell.
Then she ran to him. She cradled his face and swallowed at the sight of his maimed eye. He was covered in blood and his body sported a pattern of scars. He looked straight at her and her world tilted on its axis. “I know you,” she whispered.
He gave her a look that sent heat spiraling through her. “Of course you know me,” he said, his voice gravelly. Then with a stronger voice: “You are mine.”
She smiled. “And you are mine.” The man in the suit was sizing her up, making her feel uncomfortable. “Please untie him,” she asked.
The grey suit made a hand gesture at Matteo, after which he started to free Drake from the support beam he hung from.
She knelt next to him. “I’m so sorry.”
