The Night House

by J. C. McKenzie

  “Your fate as a free earthen raiding Arkavian supply chains doesn’t have a bright future.”

  Ugh. Again with that word. “Can you not use that term?”

  “What term?”

  “Earthen,” she said.

  “Earthen is from our shared language and refers to something characteristic of the earth. You are from Earth. How is this a bad term?”

  “You’re calling me dirt.”

  He frowned.

  She waited.

  “There are more important things for you to be concerned about right now,” he said, shaking his head. “They sent me to neutralize you. If I let you go, and you return to your previous ways, they’ll send more and the others won’t spare you. If you managed to avoid slaughter, winter is here. Resources are low and you’re starving.”

  Okay, he had a point about focusing on more pressing matters. A label was a label, and she could live with this one. As for his assessment, he wasn’t wrong. Things were getting bad with her group’s increasing numbers, but not that bad. Not yet.

  “As a slave in my world, your future prospects are also grim. There’s manual labour and housekeeping, but with your looks, you’d most likely end up in a whore house.”

  She balked.

  “You’re beautiful and Bruno wasn’t the only man who’d like a woman who resembles Arkavian aristocracy.”

  The phantom hands of Bruno returned. She brushed off her shirt and rubbed her arms.

  Thane narrowed his eyes, but didn’t comment. He relaxed into his crouch and leaned back. “As my captive, you’ll be spared those fates. You have a choice. I can send you off with a slave collar to my steward. He’ll assign you a role in my house. This role will most likely involve cleaning or stable work, but you’ll be fed, clothed and housed, and any violence or unwanted attention toward you will not be tolerated. That’s reciprocal though. Any attempt on your part to escape or harm someone in my house will result in your swift execution. You’ll live a long, boring life of hard manual labour.”

  He hesitated.

  The wait ate at her nerves. There had to be a fourth option. Please, please, please be an “or.” He hadn’t made an offer yet. Not really. “Or?”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “It’s not lost on me that a woman with beauty, combat skills, and raw power could be an asset to my house.”

  How? She stopped rubbing her arms. Her fingers longed to dig into the soft fabric of his shirt and throttle him for answers.

  “I’m proposing a year of service. You will train with my men and carry out my orders like the others. I will teach you to control your power and use your swords.”

  She clenched her teeth. She already knew how to use her swords. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. You will be a soldier. My soldier. You will be bound to my service. You will train for me. You will kill. You will likely bleed and you may die. This life is not for everyone and I don’t make this offer lightly.”

  “Earthens?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Will I kill other earthens?”

  He shook his head. “It’s unlikely any of your fellow survivors will be used as guards, so no. Your targets will be Arkavian.”

  The weight of her promise to her dead friends lifted from her shoulders. Picking off untrained supply cart guards hadn’t eased the ache of her loss or the compulsion to avenge them. Maybe this would. Maybe this deal would satisfy her debt for surviving. “I have no chance against trained, fully grown Arkavian males. You guys are beasts.”

  She didn’t say it as a compliment, but he smiled. “Not in direct combat, you’re right.”

  “So you’re suggesting…indirect combat?” What the hell was that? How could she indirectly kill—Oh! “You want to train me as an assassin?”

  His grin was wicked.

  She didn’t need to ask why he needed an assassin. What little information she’d gleaned over the last few months painted a picture of an almost medieval society with ruthless lords constantly vying for power. Assassins fit with her assessment of Arkavians.

  Thane might’ve phrased the offer like she had a choice, and in essence, she did. But in reality, when faced with the alternatives, only one of the options appealed to her. Only one might relieve the burning need to wring out justice from the blood of dead Arkavians.

  “What happens at the end of the year?” she asked.

  “You will be given another choice.”

  She snorted. No catch my ass.

  “If you survive this year, you will have to decide whether you want to leave or if you want to stay.”

  “Is that so? You’re just going to let me walk away with all that knowledge and training?”

  “I think a year will be long enough to show you why leaving won’t be in your best interests. Not because I’ll do anything to prevent it, but because your world is changing drastically. Earth will become a barren husk. Arkavia will suck it dry and you’ll have no home to return to. If you want to survive, you need to make a life on Arkavia. The surest way of survival in my world is to align yourself with a powerful house. My house.”

  “The House of Jericho?”

  “This year will give you time to acclimatize and make an informed decision.”

  What was in the fine print? He didn’t make this offer to her comrades and some of them could fight. Sort of. Okay, maybe not as well as her, but was this offer solely because she looked like an Arkavian or was there something more going on here? Something he wasn’t telling her?

  “And you’re going to take my word for it? I promise to be good, we shake hands and that’s it? You’re going to trust me not to run off at the first chance or slit your throats while you sleep?”

  His face hardened. “Ah, well. I guess this is the part you might consider the catch.”

  She fucking knew it.

  “Instead of a slave collar, I will use a non-permanent bond to ensure your honourable service. I will always know where you are and it will prevent you from disobeying my orders, one of which will be not to harm any of my house unless training, in self-defence or ordered.”

  Surely she could work around an order and its wording. Was a perceived threat enough to justify self-defence? “What does this bond involve?”

  “Consent. Which is why I’m making this an offer in the first place instead of demanding compliance. I can’t force you to be a good little assassin for me with a slave collar. Training an unwilling participant is futile. To be the house asset I want you to be, you have to agree to this and willingly accept the magical bond. You have to want this life.”

  His expression told her he braced for rejection. He didn’t expect her to agree.

  “You didn’t answer my question. What does the actual bonding process entail?” A handshake? A blood pact. A horizontal mambo? What was she willing to pay for her freedom, or at least the promise of it? What was she willing to give to avenge her dead?

  Anything.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Nothing physical. My magic is already wrapped around you. To bond, it will go inside and make a little house for itself.”

  He planned to penetrate her with his power. Awesome.

  She lifted her chin and met Thane’s intense, storm-filled gaze. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bondage 101

  Taya sat under the scratchy blanket and waited for the bonding-mojo to begin. One of the men outside said something and they erupted in laughter. A draft of cold air snuck through the tent flap and Thane continued to study her, firelight flickering against his skin. “You need to be sure.”

  “I am.”

  His eyebrows pinched in. “I know my reasons for making the offer, but I’d like to know yours for accepting without any apparent reflection.”

  “I don’t need to reflect.” And she didn’t owe him any answers.

  “You can’t stab me in the back.”

  “I don’t want to stab you.” Not at the moment, anyway.

 
; “Working in my house will be safer and more secure.” The firelight played with the serious contours of his face.

  Why was he trying to talk her out of his own offer? She leaned forward. “I promised my friends after the death wave reduced them to piles of ash that I’d avenge them if I could. My own family is likely dead as well. You said I’d get to kill Arkavians. Accepting your offer is the closest I’ll get to keeping my promise to them.”

  His expression closed off. The crystalline gray of his eyes clouded over again as if a thunderstorm raged in his vision. He shifted from his crouch to kneel beside the bed. His large body cut off the candle-light and cast his face in shadows. He leaned over her, bringing with him the exotic, floral scent from outside and his own pine and metal.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She glared. He was too close. This was too intimate. Maybe she should stab him.

  “It’s easier if you close your eyes instead of staring daggers at me.”

  She scowled.

  “You can’t stab me,” he reminded her.

  “So you’ve said.” She closed her eyes.

  Thane’s leather-scented hand pressed against her forehead. The cold sheath of magic coating her body stirred. While maintaining the barrier against the angry magic on the outside, Thane’s energy expanded and pressed against her skin. The magic pushed inside her, inch by inch, with undulating waves. Her body vibrated with need, wanting to draw the power in faster, wanting more, wanting to consume Thane’s magic.

  He sucked in a breath, but said nothing. His magic pressed forward.

  Her heart raced. She forced her body to relax and took deep breaths of candle wax and Thane. As if this signalled her permission, the power flowed in, cascading along her nerves and making them sing. Energy spread to her brain and suddenly a memory flared up, vivid and real.

  The hinges groaned and creaked. The cell door slammed shut with a clank. Surrounded by the smell of damp earth, death and mould, I spun to face Father.

  Julian stood at his side, arms folded and smile smug.

  “Father, please,” I begged.

  Water dripped somewhere farther down the cell block. A prisoner groaned a few cells over.

  “You need to learn your place, boy,” Father snarled, his ruddy face in shadows. Without another word, he turned and walked away, heavy boots slapping against wet stone.

  Julian peered over his shoulder and sneered. I’d find no help from my brother.

  Why did they hate me so much? What did I do this time? Why couldn’t I make them happy?

  I turned to study the cell. A worn cot lay in the corner. A ripped, dirty blanket lay strewn over the exposed mattress, part of it spilling onto the damp floor. Cobwebs lined the edges of the room and dirt caked the rough stone walls. A single beam of sunlight shot into the room from a small open slit less than half a face width wide and illuminated the dust motes floating in the air.

  A dark shape scurried along the uneven floor and hid under another cot on the opposite side of the cell. Someone lay huddled under the threadbare blanket.

  “Hey.” I walked over.

  The man didn’t move. He remained still as if expecting a beating.

  “Hey.” I reached out and shook his shoulder.

  Something snapped, like breaking a stick in two for the fireplace. The man rolled over. Blank eyes stared back at me. Master Rami. The sunken cheeks and gaping mouth made him almost unrecognizable, but the birth mark on his stubbled chin was unmistakable.

  My Tarka instructor. The one who said I was talented and intervened when Father tried to beat me for being what I was supposed to be.

  Father said Master Rami left without a word a month ago. He lied. My instructor had been here the whole time…starving to death.

  A large black spider crawled out of Rami’s mouth.

  I stumbled back, tripped on a bowl and fell over.

  The memory fled as fast as it arrived only to have another slam into its place.

  I huddled under the bed, wrapped in a soft blanket. Father grabbed Mom by her white hair and shook her violently. Something ripped. I cowered farther into the shadows.

  She sobbed. “Not in front of him. Please.”

  “Tell me the truth,” Father demanded.

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Father snarled and threw her across the room. Her body thumped on impact. “You lying whore.”

  I pulled the blanket over my body and shook.

  Mom screamed and begged for mercy.

  The pounding of my father’s fist hitting Mom’s soft skin rebounded off the walls.

  A coward. That’s what I was. A worthless coward, just like Father said. I couldn’t even protect Mom and now he beat her.

  Because of me.

  A.

  Worthless.

  Coward.

  The memory snapped away and suddenly Taya was back in the tent, on the cot, staring into Thane’s gray eyes. A storm raged on his face. He breathed heavily. His platinum-blond hair no longer behaved and stuck out at different angles.

  “What the hell was that?” Her voice came out hoarse, like she’d been screaming karaoke all night on a bender. Did those memories belong to him?

  He tugged at the hem of his cotton shirt. “Sometimes the bonding lets me see memories. They tend to be ones from intense moments, which can be upsetting…or embarrassing.”

  Huh? So he saw her memories while she saw his? He didn’t mention it worked both ways. Did he know she got glimpses of his past?

  Wait.

  He saw her memories? Oh, no.

  “What did you see?” she asked.

  His intense gaze cut away. “I saw you kill for the first time.”

  Her skin crawled. The homeless man’s face still haunted her nightmares. His lifeless body, sagged in the river, while the water carried away his blood.

  “I also saw your friends.”

  She stiffened.

  “I’m sorry. You obviously cared for them very much.”

  Yes. Yes, she did. The beginning of the camping trip was the last fun memory she had of them, but she couldn’t look back on it without the taint of the blue death wave ruining the moment.

  “What else?” she asked. Please, please, please, don’t let it be her break-up with that douchebag cheater. He deserved it, but she wasn’t proud of her actions.

  “Me.”

  “Huh?”

  He leaned down, unbearably close. “I saw me through your eyes.”

  Nope. That didn’t sound ominous at all.

  The tent rustled. Axel flung the flap to the side and stomped into the room. “Thane?”

  The Arkavian lord glanced at her, some unrecognizable emotion flashing through his gaze too fast to read and stood to face the other warrior. “Yes?”

  “A messenger from your father has arrived. He must’ve been watching the gate. Your Daddy Dearest wants a progress report.” Axel’s gaze cut to Taya.

  “Tell him the cargo threat has been eliminated.”

  “And our hostage?”

  They both stared at her now. She tried really hard not to squirm in the cot. And failed.

  “We don’t have a hostage. We have a new recruit to the team that we picked up on the way.”

  “Welcome to the team, Taya.” Axel flashed teeth at them. Was that a smile?

  “Fuck you.”

  His smile widened. He turned to Thane. “She’ll fit in.”

  “My thoughts as well.”

  “What story will we give them? You know he’ll ask.” Axel’s growl spoke more than his words.

  Thane stretched his neck side to side. “Found in the forest by the gate. She has unknown parentage and no education. If he or anyone else wants more, you know nothing. Send them to me.”

  “Got it.” Axel winked his non-black eye at her and left.

  She frowned.

  “What is it?”

  “You just told him an earthen woman was joining your sausage party.”

  “And?”


  “He took it well.” More than well. Had Thane picked up helpless slave girls before? Was this a regular occurrence? And why did that thought make her more nervous instead of reassured?

  “He watched us fight before I used my power to control you,” Thane interrupted her thoughts. “It was an impressive demonstration of skill. You also fought him when you were delirious and half restrained and you still managed to give him a black eye and Soka a split lip. My men aren’t stupid. They know you’ll add dimension and skill to the team.”

  “Oh.”

  “They also know my magic will prevent you from betraying us, they can overpower you, and if you pose a threat, they can eliminate you with ease.”

  He just had to keep talking.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Expect the Unexpected

  With her swords strapped to her back and her own horse under her, Taya couldn’t shake the unease twisting her stomach in a knot.

  They’d passed through the portal two days ago.

  Two days since she accepted Thane’s deal and he listed a number of commands designed to prevent her from betraying him and his team. Each order settled on her shoulders, one lead blanket after another, enforced by the power of the bond.

  Thane announced her decision to the rest of the group that night. No one acted surprised, but afterward, they treated her more like a person and less like cumbersome, unwanted baggage left on the carousel at a busy airport.

  Her horse was a beautiful mare named Skygge, pronounced something like “sheee-gyah” but after attempting to repeat Thane, she gave up and called her Sugar. She had a silvery, dark coat, black legs, mane and tail and a black face. A few black specs, patches, and lines marred her body.

  “She’s a warhorse,” Thane said as an explanation when she asked about her gray horse. “And she’s not gray.”

  Yeah, okay. Like that made sense.

  She ran her hands along Sugar’s withers and patted her neck. Maybe she looked gray, but up close, an even mixture of white and black hairs covered most of her body. Is that what Thane meant?

  Axel—the large beast of a man she gave a black eye—rode beside her like a giant lumberjack bodyguard. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves over the dirt road punctuated the silence. They’d descended from the mountainous region and the air grew warmer and the snow disappeared. Still cold, but not I-can’t-feel-my-face cold. His gaze kept shifting to her. Not wariness, not pervy interest like Bruno, but something else.