Black Recluse

by Anna Bowman

  Minuet opened the last one on the left and pushed Rayn inside. This room was lined with a dark brown carpet and was drab compared to the lavishly decorated entrance. A lampstand stood next to a tarnished table and two wooden chairs. Deep purple drapes were drawn over a floor length window. Rayn wondered if it was an interrogation room and gulped.

  “Wait here.” Minuet turned to leave, smoothing her hair; there actually were strands out of place. She shut the door as she went. A key turned in the lock.

  Oh, Tristan. Why her?!

  Rayn felt somewhat disappointed in him. He felt like a brother that could have done so much better than the two-faced Coalition agent. Solomand was probably right, and she hated admitting it. Maybe there was something more to her than met the eye if a man like Tristan could be interested in her.

  Sol.

  Her heart pounded again, and she crossed the room with long strides, drawing the drapes back with the side of her hand.

  The clamber of feet outside the room startled her. The curtains fell, and she watched the door. When no one came, she paced the room in silence. Pushing damp hair off her forehead, she sat on one of the cushioned chairs, her knee bouncing. A clock on the wall ticked out the seconds, every incessant swing of the pendulum stabbing at her nerves. The quieter it was, the more she had time to think and, for once, she didn’t want to. The only thing she needed to focus on right now was getting out. But she couldn’t help but think of Sol’s story—how Benjamin Ivers was killed.

  What will happen to Sol?

  There was an unsettling horror in the pit of her stomach. She had to get the hell out of here and get Sol out too.

  Chapter 50

  Solomand

  Good so far.

  Solomand’s heart pounded. He was trying not to think of Rayn.

  He won’t do anything to her. Not yet.

  He reminded himself as the guard guided him behind the capital building with the hard point of his rifle.

  We still have the upper hand.

  The guard lead him into a fenced, stone pavilion. Benches encircled the circular stone platform where a series of posts were embedded into the ground.

  Sol’s stomach turned as he saw the blood that wasn’t there and heard the echoing screams that had long since been silenced. This is where Ben died. It was meant to strike fear in his heart, but it didn’t. Rage swelled in him as the guards forced him to his knees and jerked his coat off. It grew stronger as they tied him between two posts. The guard gave the ropes an extra tug before lighting each of the torches around the pavilion, flooding the area with light.

  Show yourself you bastard.

  Solomand imagined with stirring detail LeFrost’s pulse slowing to a stop in his hands, the smug look forever choked from his face. Then he saw him, striding at a leisurely pace, the picture of a gentleman. He was dressed in a crisp, uniform embroidered with gold embellishments. His neatly trimmed hair matched the ashen color of his suit. He was accompanied by a man taller than he was, who kept carefully in the shadows. Sol couldn’t make him out. He was most likely LeFrost’s newest bodyguard. He was in constant need of them. It wouldn’t be enough to save him, though. Seeing him here now, after what he’d done, Solomand felt nothing but the intense hunger to make him pay for his sins. The knowledge that the governor was playing neatly into his hands was enough to dull what he knew was coming.

  “Solomand Black,” LeFrost said in a perfectly reasonable sounding voice. “I finally have you.” The smirk on his bearded mouth was short-lived.

  Sol glowered at him with a devilish smile.

  “Frosty! Took you damn long enough—and I had to come to you in the end.”

  LeFrost’s eye twitched with anger. He snapped his finger and the guard who stepped forward, bullwhip in hand. Sol recognized it, remembering its sting, but he only grinned his defiant smile. No amount of pain LeFrost inflicted on him could ever equal what he had already been through.

  “Where. Is. She?” LeFrost swallowed roughly.

  “She’s nothing to do with any of this,” Sol replied darkly.

  LeFrost snapped his fingers and the guard raised his hand. Pain ripped through Solomand’s shoulder as the whip cut across the bullet wound. He winced, then leered at the governor, unblinking.

  “Careful. You’ll get blood on your uniform,” he said.

  LeFrost signaled for the guard to continue. It took him longer to interrupt this time.

  “You know what’s going to happen if you don’t’ tell me where she is, don’t you?” He took out his handkerchief and wiped his mustache.

  Sol’s split lip stung as he spit a mouthful of blood at LeFrost’s feet.

  “She’d never have been on that island if you weren’t such a son of a bitch in the first place.”

  His taunt earned him a punch in the mouth, this time from the esteemed Governor himself. The split in his lip widened, but Sol was numb. A thrill of satisfaction ran through him on having made LeFrost angry enough to use his own hands. The untouchable man, usually perched on his lofty chair away from the real world, was pissed enough to come down and get dirty.

  He stepped back, flexing his hand, and straightened his tie.

  “You forget, Mud Rat. I have nothing but time. You, however, have run out of it.”

  He turned on his heels and started to walk away, maintain a dignified air, or trying to.

  “You think you’ve finally caught me, swank?” Sol’s voice raised. “You’ve forgotten something!”

  LeFrost’s shoulder’s tensed, and he stopped to listen.

  “You don’t hunt spiders, especially the Recluse!” Sol raised his head, making sure LeFrost saw his overly confident grin. “By the time you see one, you’ve already been bitten.”

  LeFrost looked over his shoulder, trying to look in control, but Sol saw his mouth twitch involuntarily.

  “Don’t kill him yet, Rollins. I still need answers.”

  He stalked away.

  Solomand managed a twisted laugh. Whatever answers ‘Rollins’ or LeFrost thought they were going to extract, but they were most sorely mistaken. But that’s what happened when you took everything that mattered to a man; there was nothing left he cared about losing.

  LeFrost’s bodyguard stepped into the light as he turned to follow the Governor; disconcerting, pale eyes looked Sol over. His mouth was turned up in an amused grin.

  It widened as Sol turned to the guard and spat, “So Rollins…ask me how your face looks with a knife in it? That’s about the only question you’re getting an answer to tonight.”

  Chapter 51

  Rayn

  The key turned in the lock, causing Rayn to spring to her feet. A tall, stately looking gentleman in a drab uniform stepped into the room. His graying hair was neatly trimmed, and the silver beard added a distinguishing touch to his appearance.

  “You must be Rayn.” His voice was smooth. He closed the door, slipping a hand in his coat pocket. Lines creased his face as he offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m terribly sorry about all this. Oh, where are my manners?” He offered her a hand. “I am Governor LeFrost.”

  Rayn crossed her arms and sniffed. If he thought she was going to win her over with the charming old gentleman act, he was sadly mistaken. He drew his hand back awkwardly.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Rayn. I just need you to answer some questions for me.”

  And there it was.

  “Like what?”

  He motioned to the chairs, curling his fingers into a fist as he returned it to his side. His knuckles were a crimson color. Rayn drummed her fingers on her arms, squaring her shoulders.

  Skip the act, old man.

  “As you wish.”

  LeFrost rubbed a hand over his forehead and strode to the table, pouring himself a glass of water.

  “Would you care for a drink?”

  “No,” Sol was right, again, she noted with reluctance; he didn’t appear to be the villainous type he was made out to be. But real villains never
did.

  LeFrost sipped at the clear water audibly, and she pursed her lips together. When was the last time she’d had a drink? It didn’t matter if it had been two days. She would never relent and say she wanted one now.

  The glass clinked on the wood as he set it down.

  “You know, Rayn. War is a terrible thing no matter what side you happen to be on.”

  No shit.

  There was genuine tiredness in his eyes which made him look older than he probably was.

  “I would very much like to put all this nasty business behind us,” he said, sighing.

  “Yeah? Then why don’t you?” She crossed her arms, drumming fingers on her soaked overcoat.

  LeFrost’s civilized mask dropped for a moment, and his face darkened. He ventured closer to her, and she could make out more clearly a familiar amber color in his eyes.

  “Your associate, Mr. Black, is a very deadly and dangerous war criminal. I should think you would be wise enough to not squander loyalty on the likes of him.”

  “The war is over, don’t you know?” Rayn’s eyes narrowed. “And, if I’m not mistaken, you won.”

  She shifted her weight to one leg. There was something eerily familiar in those eyes of his.

  “It’s not over for Solomand Black,” LeFrost snapped, his nostrils flaring. He was dropping the act completely. “If he wanted the war to end, he never should have taken my daughter!”

  What?

  A sudden gut-wrenching horror hit her. She knew where she’d seen those eyes before, golden-amber looking out from behind silky-black hair.

  Oh god…Zee!

  If it wasn’t for that, she might have been able to tell herself he was lying. But why? Was Solomand willing to go that far for revenge? Rayn didn’t believe it.

  LeFrost’s jaw tightened.

  “You have seen her, haven’t you?” His face lit up with unexpected hope.

  Rayn couldn’t have talked if she’d wanted to at this point. LeFrost’s hands gripped the back of a chair.

  “Sazumay’s mother took her to Cierne without my knowing. She wanted to be with her people. If I had known…” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. He was very good at making it look like he truly cared. His brow furrowed. “Solomand Black took her to exact revenge for the child he lost.”

  Rayn felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her.

  “What do you mean?”

  LeFrost picked imaginary dirt from his dress coat.

  “Didn’t you know? It was an unfortunate occurrence, not intentional. Like I said, war is a very tragic thing.”

  He’s lying.

  LeFrost kept talking, but she didn’t hear. Her eyes fixed on the door past him, trying to process what he had told her. Zee was LeFrost’s daughter. She knew that the island of Cierne was bombed, by LeFrost’s command. He really was a bastard. It made little difference whether he knew his own daughter was there or not.

  That wasn’t what made her stomach churn. Solomand had a child?

  “Rayn.” LeFrost’s voice raised, and she brought him back into focus. “Will you cooperate?”

  So, he thought telling her this would lead her to betray Sol and the others. Rayn’s face twisted into a savage scowl. She may remember only fragments, but those fragments placed her on the other side of Corcyra’s wall. She didn’t belong here. She belonged in The Mud.

  Rayn tilted her chin up, scraping wet hair from her neck with her fingers. “’Fraid I can’t help you. If there’s one thing, Solomand Black is good at, it’s keeping secrets.”

  It wasn’t a lie, she thought grudgingly. Had he really kept the secret of a child?

  Her hands started to shake, and she crossed her arms again, trying to hide it.

  “I see.” LeFrost’s face darkened, the last traces of civility vanishing. “How unfortunate.”

  He turned abruptly and stormed out of the room, slamming the door. She could hear him rattling the keys in frustration as he locked her in. Voices shouted in the hallway, followed by the stomping of feet in different directions. God knows what he meant to do with her now.

  Sol had a child.

  She remembered the look in his eyes when she told him he would make a good father. It was the look of sorrow. Did he really keep Zee for revenge?

  Oh, God!

  She felt light-headed and leaned on the wall by the window.

  “No,” she managed a choked whisper.

  The way he guarded Zee and looked after her. He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

  The door burst open, and Rayn lurched forward, grabbing a chair and holding it over her head.

  Minuet sauntered in, raised an eye at the chair and said, “You’re to come with me.”

  Her heart hammering, Rayn tossed the chair aside.

  “Now.” There was an unspoken urgency in her eyes.

  Am I really going to trust her?

  Rayn didn’t give it much thought. What choice did she have? Solomand was not likely to be saving her. She was going to have to make her own way out of this mess.

  The barrel of Minuet’s derringer pushed lightly into her back. Rayn’s mind raced. She was going to get out of here, with or without Minuet’s help.

  Minuet ushered her through another door and up a winding set of stairs which lead to a dark hallway. Their footsteps thumped as they walked to the end of the hall. Minuet glanced around, eyes carefully searching. In a quick movement, she pressed the wall underneath a lamp. A panel slid open, and Rayn was shoved inside another passage.

  If one more person pushes me around!

  She stumbled forward.

  The room was cramped and dark. Minuet lit a lamp and slid the hidden door shut. Rayn held her breath. Her revolver, the Drakon, and Solomand’s sidearm lay on the floor. Minuet handed her a folded piece of paper.

  “Solomand’s map code,” she said curtly. She nodded toward the guns. “You’re going to need to save him.”

  “What?” Rayn felt like she didn’t have time to breathe. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Minuet arched one eyebrow.

  “Solomand’s not going to make it if you don’t. And I can do no more to help anyone.” She held out her derringer. “Because you shot me when you escaped.”

  Rayn looked from the pistol to Minuet, her jaw slowly opening. “You can’t be serious.”

  Minuet pressed the gun in her hand, sighing in aggravation. “If I’m not shot, I’ll get it worse than Solomand’s getting right now.”

  Rayn’s stomach twisted violently, and her hand closed around the derringer, wishing Minuet had told her to shoot her the last time they met. She would not have hesitated then.

  “The balcony is through there.” Minuet pointed to the shuttered window. “It opened to the back of the compound. You’ll see Solomand. Your rifle is silenced, as is my derringer.”

  Her finger indicated the trajectory through her chest. Rayn knew it would be a non-lethal shot, the bullet was light, and wouldn’t expand much.

  She cocked the hammer and raised it.

  “You’re doing this for Tristan, aren’t you?”

  Minuet’s eyes flickered as she tried to hide emotion.

  “Solomand should never have brought him here.” There were tears in her eyes.

  That’s one thing we can agree on.

  Rayn swallowed and squeezed the trigger.

  Minuet fell back against the wall, gasping.

  “Go, damn you! Before it’s too late.”

  Rayn grabbed the weapons, slung them on her shoulder, and climbed out the window into the warm night air.

  Chapter 52

  Tristan

  Tristan’s skin prickled as a hot breeze brushed his face. He leaned forward, inhaling slowly, deliberately. The taste of blood and mucous stuck in the back of his throat. If death knocked on the door in human form, Tristan would have welcomed him in for a cup of tea. As it was, he lurked in the shadows, close enough to feel but just far enough away that the relief he desired couldn’t b
e reached.

  ‘Courage leads to heaven; fear leads to death. -Seneca.’

  Tristan always liked words, especially quotes of wisdom from the ancient texts. They were like music on paper, still gracing the world with their song. They had helped him back in the beginning when he was afraid to die. Now, they rang hollow. Fear of dying had vanished long ago; only the insatiable tiredness remained. Gripping that last thread connecting him between this world and the next became ever more difficult. It would be so easy to just let go.

  Not yet. He admonished himself, searching for new words. ‘Right is right even if no one is doing it; wrong is wrong even if everyone is doing it.’ -Augustine of Hippo. That was what brought him here, but it was not the strength he needed to keep going. ‘Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle.’ Those were words which might see him through to the end. There was, after all, a battle still to be fought. His plan was different than Solomand’s, and he would need to reach deep to put an end to the wrong he’d left behind in Corcyra.

  “Tris.” Jank lay a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time.”

  Tristan raised his head from his arm. The air grated on his lungs as he breathed in. Jank’s forehead creased with worry, and Tristan smiled.

  “At last.” He feigned a look of enthusiasm. His stomach rolled, and he bent over, clutching his sides. “Don’t look so glum, Jank.” He struggled to his feet. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Jank gave him an uneasy look and took him by the arm. Tristan put more weight on him than he would have liked. All incriminating letters had been handed over to Solomand. His pockets were empty, except for a tiny steel-blue cross—a gift from Sol years ago. Solomand’s father was a Krishtaren, but Sol always seemed afraid to commit to anything, afraid—Tristan suspected—that it would somehow be taken from him.

  “Be good, Zee.” Tristan gave the girl his best smile.

  She was worse than Jank. She knew something was wrong and she frowned with worry at him. The child was kept in the dark over many things, much like Rayn. But it was necessary.

  Be brave, Zee.