Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this particular unbearable hell?
Had she somehow sinned? Had she been somehow complacent in her gift of freedom that she must now have it so brutally torn away from her? She had never kept a pet; she had even shied from catching fireflies as a child when other children seized and kept the poor things bouncing madly in mason jar jails.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she screamed suddenly, rising to her knees and pounding her fists on the massive wooden gateway before her. She wailed in frustrated misery, pummeling the doors with the same hazed mania she had used against the monster’s body earlier. She continued until her bruised skin began to split and bleed. “Let me out! Let me out! You don’t own me! I won’t let you own me! I will die first!” She was screeching at the top of her vocal cords, but that had come to be a sound barely above a rasping exhalation due to the abuse they had suffered. “Do you hear me? I will die first!”
She collapsed to the floor then, her body too weak with exhaustion and despair to maintain her battle. She wept piteously, her face pressed into the delicate woven textures of the rug. Her head ached, throbbing from inflamed sinuses and the sounds of all her screams still echoing in her ears.
She had never known such despondency. She could not find her usual fortitude, which had always seen her through all kinds of difficult situations in her life. The unknown but well-imagined path of her fate had robbed her of her will to be strong. The fight bled out of her, her spirit ailing and falling away into murky grayness.
She would never be free again, she thought over and over again. She had seen kidnappings on crime shows and they never ended well, especially the longer they went on. And with her family ill, there was no one to even report her missing. They would never find her.
She was doomed to live out her life trapped in this gilded cage. She would die and decay until her polished bones were all that would be left. Then, even in death, her skeleton would be hung amongst these other treasures to be mused and mulled over like any museum piece with a fascinating tidbit of history or gossip connected to it.
Lost.
Forever lost.
She would never see her father or sister again, and this, above all, pierced her heart. For all she knew they had likely died alone and uncared for in their beds because she, their last hope for life, had been spirited away to this monstrous place, wherever it was.
Any distance that took her from her family’s bedsides was too far away.
Slowly Kathryn drifted even farther away into the gray void of her thoughts.
She would never have a husband, would never be wife to a man she loved more than life itself.
She felt her dreams of romance drift into dust. She would never know the answers to those secrets of love between a man and a woman. There would not be holding or being touched with infinite caring and tenderness by the hand of a strong male who loved her. Where was the wondrous kinship of sharing her life with a husband and family? Dying. All these dreams were no longer hers to have. This also meant she would not be a mother, would not feel a new generation of Macdonough blood quicken in her body, and would not labor to bring that life into the world.
Kathryn finally was slipping into sleep again as exhaustion robbed away even her ability to think.
Tears slipped from her eyes when a distant, subconscious thought realized that there would not even be dreams in this sleep to allow her escape.
Chapter 3
Aerlyn’s eyes fluttered open to darkness.
She sighed in consternation. Truly, she thought, her damned fool of a brother had ventured much too far this time!
She sat up quickly, glided off the bed and onto her bare feet as if she had never been injured at all. She paused to take a mental inventory and was perturbed to realize she had been unconscious for three days and nights.
Three days and nights where her brother had most likely run amok without her to censure or balance his damages. The impact of the imbalance would be phenomenal, no doubt. There would likely be a great deal of repair work to be done on her part if she was to set this disruption to rights.
She was halfway down the hall when an eerie sensation crept into her.
Something was amiss.
“Adrian?” she called warily, her resonant voice echoing like music into every corner and cubby of the entire fortress. “Adrian! I am awake and truly in a rare fit at you. Adrian! Answer me!”
Aerlyn felt a sudden sense of foreboding creep over her, twisting around her like ivy that smothered the very life out of an unfortunate tree.
…Aerlyn…
The voice that came to her mind was accompanied by a sheet of falling blackness. She was in his mind, or maybe just the place between their minds, she couldn’t be positive.
“Adrian.” The relief in her voice was enormous, if short-lived.
…I think I am dying, Aerlyn. There is so much pain….
Aerlyn caught her breath. The idea of someone of her brother’s strength and power dying was ludicrous, but for him to think so could only mean that he was in inconceivable agony. Adrian was not supposed to feel pain like she did. He was a master of pain and fear; therefore, they never touched him. Adrian felt at home in his normal darknesses: his rages, his hate, and other similar emotions. These were natural things, comfortable things to him.
Whatever in the universe would cause him pain? She should be the only source that could theoretically cause such a phenomenon. But she had been in blank repose for three days and nights, healing from his attack on her.
“Where are you?” she asked anxiously…. The treasure tower. In the atrium…
His thoughts seemed to dim around her. He was weakening.
“I am coming.”
She sped to his side as fast as her feet would take her, uncaring of the energy she was burning or the aches that still remained in her body because he had been cruel and abusive to her. It didn’t matter. Adrian could not help what he had become for the sake of so many. Part of it was her fault for not handling the situation better. He needed more and more careful handling and understanding as the nights wore on into years of toil and darkness. She was there to watch over him, to help keep him sane and grounded, and now she feared she had failed him.
She ran into the atrium and found him lying on the floor, the fluorescent pink of his blood pooled around his head. She knelt beside him, gently touching his misshapen head. He lifted it to her, his whole body shaking in pain and outright fear.
“What’s happening to me?” he asked hoarsely.
Aerlyn gasped in utter shock, a hand flying to her mouth as she stared into her brother’s changing face. The sharper points that had twisted his features over time were smoother now, and as she looked she could swear she could see the pieces of the face she had once loved on her brother. But years of endless poison had turned him into this rough beast and she had faced the loss of his looks long ago, just as he had done. But she didn’t understand any more than he did why he was so contorted and changed. Even the hands he held out to her seemed less rough, with the somewhat less vicious claws he used when in a fit of raging temper.
Whatever was happening to him, it was a painful thing. She could read it all over his expression and in the tension of his body language. She reached to press a hand to his head, where blood was still seeping from a deep gash, and she used her free hand to check him for any other obvious injuries.
“Adrian, you have to tell me what is going on. I know you’ve done something. Tell me what it is so I can help to fix it.”
“No!” he wrenched out stubbornly.
“You don’t have a choice!” she shouted at him, her voice bouncing up off the glass ceiling.
He snarled at her, showing the tip of a fang in the process. Aerlyn was unimpressed and the direct glare of her eyes let him know that. She refused to give him quarter. Something was very wrong, and whatever it was needed to be dealt with. It was bad enough he had to live his life in a perp
etual state of wrongness. She didn’t want him in physical agony along with it.
“The treasure,” he growled through his teeth, his reluctance clear. “You’ll know when you see it.”
Aerlyn looked up the winding staircase to the huge doors that housed Adrian’s precious treasure room. It was his and his alone. She was never allowed beyond the doors without his strict escort. She had always abided by that because she had always felt he deserved something all his own, something no one could touch but him. Something beautiful to help balance out the dreadfulness of what he had to do every night. She had seen the exquisite collection on and off over the past two years since he had started collecting, when Adrian had been feeling magnanimous or especially proud of an acquisition. It was hard for him to share, though. The darkness inside him was so covetous of his bright and beautiful things that even letting someone look at them was sometimes too much to ask.
Aerlyn wanted to help her brother, but she wanted to know what could possibly be in that room that could hurt him so badly. What kind of creature was it? And she knew it was a living thing because she could feel it even stronger now that she was closer. She slowly rose to her full height, leaving Adrian at her feet, where he huffed angrily because he didn’t have the strength to stop her or go with her or do whatever it was his instincts were crying out for him to do in order to protect what he felt was his. She made no mistake that this was what motivated him. He was not thinking of her safety in the least. Or perhaps he didn’t think she would be in any danger.
She took to the stairs rapidly, her feet flying up with incredible speed. She reached the landing and ran to the hulking doors that protected the room beyond. She threw the bolt, wondering why he would bother to lock the doors from the outside. She used both hands and pushed with all her strength.
The doors opened and there, right on the floor beside the opening, was Adrian’s treasure.
Oh no! What has he done?
Aerlyn rushed to kneel by the poor girl’s side, shock numbing her hands and face as she dared to touch her. The other woman was wounded in several ways, including her fists being bruised from what had no doubt been a most violent banging on her prison door.
Aerlyn sat back on her heels and dashed away tears of anger and frustration. How was she going to fix this? Why would Adrian do such a thing? Maybe he was much further gone than she had thought. Maybe the insanity of his work had really and truly driven him over the edge of all reason. She could bear losing pieces of her brother bit by bit for the sake of the greater good, but was he now irretrievable? Was this why he was suffering so much agony? Because he had crossed a line and now would never come back?
No. She had to pray that wasn’t the case. She had to consult with the Ampliphi about what to do. This girl was human, and she had been exposed to who knew what. Most likely to Adrian himself. Surely she could deduce what he had brought her there for. Or perhaps she was thinking he had more nefarious purposes. Regardless, if she had seen Adrian, she knew she wasn’t being held by a deranged human. The deformity of her brother’s body and features made him look anything but human.
Yet his heart and soul were still there, somewhere, trying to stay intact. Aerlyn knew this as she looked down onto the beautiful face of the treasure he’d chosen above all others. Why, she wondered, had he picked this particular woman? She was very pretty, and she had lovely skin, but Aerlyn had seen far more exquisite creatures among the humans. So why had Adrian chosen her?
It was one of many questions Adrian needed to answer. But first Aerlyn had to make sure the other woman would be safe and comfortable. She took her back to the bed in the treasure room for now, just a place to keep her safe while she tried to figure this all out. Then she walked across the room and lightly smacked Cronos’s face until he was conscious. When he saw Aerlyn in the treasure room, it was clear by his meek and cowering expression that he realized the jig was up.
“Yes, you’d best be afraid of me,” she breathed on a hiss of air. “You are his Companion. It is your duty to see to his care and his needs. I depend on you to tell me when he steps over the line of what is permissible. And then when he does, you help him?”
“He would hurt me if I told!”
“Not half as much as I will if I catch you in my sight again! The Ampliphi will hear of this, and once and for all I’ll have your useless carcass removed from duty!”
The sniveling Cronos suddenly disappeared and a sly, wicked little thing came out to play. “If you tell about me, then you will tell about Adrian. They will punish him for stealing the girl. They will see how far gone he truly is and they will destroy him.”
Aerlyn felt her stomach fill with lead, the weight of it slamming down hard inside her. Cronos was right. If the Ampliphi found out about what Adrian had done, they might very well have him executed. It didn’t matter to them that it was unfair to ask such a harsh, corrupting duty of him; they would say he should have retired before it had gone too far.
But when Adrian had accepted his post those many years ago, he had told Aerlyn that he would take it for as long as he could and then take it some more. Anything to keep another from suffering the way he was now suffering. He had been strong in such amazing ways then. Now he was strong in frightening ones.
They had to fix this problem without the Ampliphi knowing about it. They somehow had to give the girl back to the Earth plane and not risk exposure at the same time. Then, once the girl had been safely returned to her life, Aerlyn would force Adrian to retire from his post. He had done enough. More than enough. As it was, she knew she would never know her brother as the man he had once been. His corruption was too deep.
But for the moment, she had to deal with Cronos.
“Very well,” she said through tight lips, “you shall have a reprieve…for now.” Aerlyn didn’t like the smug look that crossed his features, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. As Adrian’s Companion, Cronos was exposed to a great deal of the energies Adrian managed. The backwash of it had poisoned him just like it had her brother, although not nearly on the same scale. Also, Aerlyn wasn’t certain she’d ever really liked Cronos to begin with. A relatively simpleminded creature, Cronos was very dedicated to his work, and to Adrian, but his motives had never been clear to her. Adrian at least had dedication to his people to compel him.
But Cronos…
“Your Master is at the foot of the stairs, injured and bleeding. See to him immediately.”
Cronos jumped at the command, a look of despair entering his eyes for a moment. Whatever his motivations were from moment to moment, Cronos was devoted to his Master.
Aerlyn gave the woman in the bed one last look, then left the room and bolted the doors.
Chapter 4
Kathryn moaned softly, stirring in her sleep.
As she felt consciousness coming on herself, she felt piercing soreness in her throat, the heated, burned feeling of her face, and stiffness throughout her hands and her entire body.
She opened her eyes, dreading what she would see.
She saw a very normal-looking wood-beamed ceiling.
Her eyes widened in shock. What had happened to the colored streamers? She sat up swiftly, twisting around…
…and fell out of the bed.
She landed on a wooden floor with a crash. Pressing her torso up on trembling arms, she stared in dizzy confusion at the pretty, but rather ordinary, Turkish-style rug beneath her. She looked rapidly around herself, turning her head like an owl’s as she tried to make sense of where she was. It was a large room, yes, but no bigger than her father’s bedroom. In fact, the four-poster bed, the polished wooden floor, and the stone walls were all very similar to the ones in her own home.
But not quite. This room was somewhat newer, better kept, and of a more modern design. The ranch she had grown up on had been in her family for generations and the wear and tear of the years certainly showed, no matter how much she had tried to keep it up.
Kathryn shook her head to clear it,
wondering if she was dreaming. Truly, this was simply a figment of wishful thinking. She was probably still sleeping in that awful room on the floor before those horrid, entrapping doors.
She looked down at her hands suddenly. They were black and blue and cut, as if she had been pounding on a door in desperate need to escape. Then she noticed her gown. It was plain white cotton, reaching neck to ankles, with ruffles at the borders of her wrists, hem, and throat. So simple and conservative. The fabric so wonderfully plain. But before she let herself get excited about any of what she was seeing, she narrowed her eyes and went about making a closer inspection of her surroundings.
“What trick is this now?” she wondered aloud.
Just then, the doors to the room swung open swiftly, startling a cry from her.
Kathryn’s shocked eyes ran the entire course of the tall, stunningly beautiful woman who had entered. She had never fathomed that a woman could be so tall! Surely she must be almost six feet in height, only an inch or so shorter than Kathryn’s own father. Her entire carriage made her seem taller still, as she held herself in an erect and statuesque manner. Her figure was divine. Round and full at the hips and breasts, flat across the ribs, and almost absurdly thin at her waist.
She was wearing a gorgeous dress made of ice blue linen, its tailored perfection and the elegance with which she wore it speaking volumes for her wealth and sophistication right off the bat. She had sleek black hair, peppered with shiny silver strands, that was swept into a high catch, only to let loose a cascade of coils and waves down the back of her head and neck.
The woman’s eyes widened suddenly as they fell on Kathryn’s stunned, upturned face. Kathryn watched in fascination as the peculiar sterling gray color of her eyes gleamed in the light. Kathryn’s own eyes were gray, but this woman’s were so light and shining they were almost like silver.
“Oh!” the woman breathed, an elegant hand sweeping up to her throat in surprise. Then her eyes warmed and her breathtaking countenance became the very epitome of concern and sympathy. “You’re awake, at last!”
Stealing Kathryn Page 5
