by D. Fischer
“I’m fully aware of the situation,” Kheelan says after a moment, keeping his eyes on me. He tilts his head, speculating, before tilting it the other direction. His eyes flit between Jane and Tanya, Aiden and Eliza, before they settle on the lover’s intertwined fingers.
Eliza trembles, her body violently shaking as she stands in front of me. Aiden tries to comfort her, rubbing his fingers against hers as he keeps his back straight, displaying as much confidence as he can.
Slowly, at such a leisurely pace it frightens me to my transparent core, his eyes return to mine, hard edges of steel around the rims. “Dyson,” he purrs, “you’ve been a busy little shade.” His voice is full of glee, but it doesn’t match his stiff posture, his murderous expression. “Gathering troops for a rebellion to overthrow your king? Before we properly became friends? I’m hurt.”
He stands from his throne, takes the three necessary steps down to the main platform with which we stand on, and walks to our group. His movement is fluid, graceful, putting any feline to shame. He stands before Aiden, two feet shorter and most certainly not as wide, and searches him the same way he did me. Aiden remains unmoved, at least from what I can tell standing behind him. A smile, like the curve of an old-fashioned mustache, lifts Kheelan’s cheekbones when he’s finished.
Stepping to Eliza, he clucks his tongue before revealing a hand within his long robe’s sleeve and lifts her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Such a frightened little dove,” Kheelan coos. Her shaking accelerates, so much so that I fear her knees will give out at any moment, and then he releases her. He takes a step back, his gaze on me, satisfied with all he’s learned.
Kheelan claps his hands together. “Let’s play a game, shall we?” My eyes narrow as the vampires rustle, their feet restless as they shuffle in their upright positions.
“It’s one of my favorites.” Kheelan spins on his heel and returns to his throne. “Dyson, step forward.”
Frowning, I hesitate, glancing around at the vampires, catching a few of their red eyes. One shoves me from behind and I stumble forward, walking the rest of the distance. The vampires in front part for me, hissing as I pass.
Slow, agonizing steps, I try desperately to keep the fear from my face, but my fingers twitch and tremble on their own accord.
KATRIANE DUPONT
MYLA’S PAST
I sit in a corner of my cell, frantically working on how I can get out of here without detection. Its then I realize why Myla never attempted escape. She was saving the grace of future witches—of her daughters. I mean, I knew why she did it, but I didn’t feel the ‘why’ until now.
If we have any hope of survival in the future, of our race, the humans must be shown we aren’t a threat. We must show them compassion. What it must have taken her to come to the conclusion of her own death—to be so accepting of it. Myla was far braver, far more self-sacrificing than I originally thought.
In order to display our innocence, we must remain so. If I were to leave this cell, if I were to break free, that would only give them something to fear. Myla’s daughters, my great, great so on and so forth grandmother’s, would be forever prosecuted. The witch trials would never end. Escaping would alter history on such a level that my coven—even myself—would never exist.
Accepting my fate, my head drops. I am to die and there’s nothing I can do about it. No one will come to my rescue.
EPILOGUE
DYSON COLEMAN
DEATH REALM
Kheelan watches me as I stand too stiff, too still, before he finally speaks. “It’s a little game I like to call Pick a Foe. You,” he points at me, “will have to choose. Him,” his finger moves, “or her.”
I shift my body, glancing behind me, and know exactly who he has picked based on their wide-eyed expressions. Aiden and Eliza glance at each other before I turn back to Kheelan.
“Neither is a foe,” I mumble, my eyebrows pinched.
He laughs, the sound so slick with evil it travels from my ears to my toes. “It wouldn’t be any fun if they weren’t your friends, Dyson.” The smile leaves his face. “You don’t play games with your enemies.”
At that last sentence, I know his deeper meaning, his double meaning. He’s punishing me for betraying him, the man I see as the enemy, and making me kill a friend instead. My carefully planned death for Kheelan now their burden to bare.
“No,” I growl, my eyes flashing wolf. My wolf snarls inside me, furious with this man for containing him.
“This isn’t negotiable. You will kill one or the other.”
Reaper’s Breath rests on the armrest of the throne, completely still and unlike the swirling fog I know. It grieves, desperately trying not to draw attention to itself.
“You can’t kill a shade,” Jane yells behind me, “we’re already dead.” I hear a scuffle, but I know better than to take my eyes off the fee in front of me.
“Excellent point, Jane,” Kheelan says after the commotion ceases. “Let’s remedy that, shall we?”
He lifts a hand off the armrest and twirls his wrist, his fingers following in a fan motion. I frown before such a pain starts at the beginning of my toes, the agonizing discomfort of a thousand needles pin-pricking their way through them, to my ankles, to my calves. I scream in pain, and it’s echoed behind me by Aiden and Eliza. I realize then that he’s doing the same to them.
The pain becomes so intense, so strong, that I can’t think straight, not even to ask myself what’s happening. I want it to stop. I want it to retreat to my toes. Defiantly, it travels to my torso, licking every piece of my insides. I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, but it’s so intense that I can’t hold back my vocal cords from shouting.
It reaches my shoulders, traveling to my fingertips, to my neck. I bow backward, a thousand needles making their way down my spine. Someone kill me. Someone make it stop. My wolf howls inside me, not feeling the pain but in great distress.
White hot throbs begin in my temples and my face muscles contort. My hands fly to the sides of my head. It grows and builds to an agonizing level and I scream once more, the sound almost foreign to my ears.
And then it stops. All of it. My body leans forward, my eyes still shut, my hands and knees on the ground. I don’t even remember falling to them. I breathe heavily, the sound the only thing I hear until a thud nudges my ribcage. My eyes fly open, my fingers the first thing I see. I scrape my nails against the stone, blinking several times to make sure this isn’t a hallucination. I can’t see the stone beneath them. My skin is a pale pink, just like . . . just like when I was alive.
My heart thuds again, and again, until it picks a rhythm that best suits it. Pressure in my neck thumps to each beat and my fingers reach to it, feeling the vein pulse with life . . . with blood.
Fingers clap in front of me, a cheerful, deep-toned giggle forcing my attention to it. I lift my head, my eyes landing on the Fee who’s practically radiating energy. I stand to my feet, Jane and Tanya gasping behind me.
Turning my back on the Fee, I seek my friends, finding them gathering themselves to their feet—Aiden helping Eliza from the floor. A fine sweat covers the both of them, and I realize the dribble down my back is the same thing. I can sweat.
I jump when Kheelan whispers in my ear, not realizing he had even left his seat, “Now, my dear friend. Choose.”
Eliza and Aiden face me, the wonder gone from their eyes as they hear his words.
“I won’t kill them,” I voice.
I hear his teeth grind in my ear during his pause of response. “If you don’t, I will kill them both.” He pauses again. “Do you know what happens to someone after they die a second time?” I don’t respond, not wanting to know the answer. “They cease to exist, little Dyson. There is no realm that holds the twice dead.” His lips part, I’m guessing from a smile, as I hear the saliva slide over his teeth. “Now, choose,” he whispers.
“I can’t,” I mumble, my eyes flitting between them. “I wouldn’t even know how.”
“Oh, sure you do,” he coos. “I’ll make you a deal,” his voice sounds slightly distant, as he leans away from my ear, speaking his next words with a louder tone, “I’ll free your wolf. You can use him to play our little game.” He sounds so casual like it’s an easy solution.
I turn my head to him, blinking rapidly. He leans forward, and I fight the urge to step back. Lips cold as ice land on the skin of my forehead, placing a soft kiss. The moment he leans away, the firm barrier melts and I breathe so deep, my lungs painfully fill to their brim. My wolf stretches inside with the extra room now provided to do so.
“Now. Begin,” he says, taking a few steps back, his vampires parting to give him space.
“I can’t,” I whine, tears welling in my eyes as I face my friends once more.
“You can, and you will,” he booms behind me, his voice shaking the wall as he runs out of patience. “Or I’ll kill them both, put their heads on spikes, and let my vampires feed on their bodies.”
“No!” Jane and Tanya say together, fighting against our captor’s hold.
My eyes shift from Eliza to Aiden and back again. Eliza sobs, her body shaking like a rabbit cornered by a fox. I look once more at Aiden, time seeming to slow down. His eyes close and his head inclines the slightest. I watch a slow sigh sag his frame before he opens them once more. Determination replaces the sorrow in his eyes and he nods once, telling me to pick him. I shake my head, my feet wanting to take a step back. His jaw ticks and he nods once more.
“Do it!” Kheelan shouts.
Tears spill over my cheeks as I begin to slip out of my pants. Lifting my shirt over my head, some of the cloth takes the wetness with it.
Standing naked in the stone room, I breathe deep but in a quick, rapid pace, close to hyperventilation. “I’m sorry,” I mumble to Aiden, tears beginning to stream down his face.
I let my wolf loose, my bones cracking and reshaping. As the shifting process begins, Jane shouts in the background, begging for me to stop. Aiden grabs Eliza, pulls her close, places his hands in her hair at the nape, and kisses her. A deep, passionate kiss. One so full of sorrow and consuming love that it fills the room, shattering my heart into a million pieces. This is my fault. My doing.
I’m shoved to the back of my mind, such a familiar sensation, but for the first time, I wish I was anybody but a shifter. My wolf is being used as a weapon for a sick and twisted game of revenge, of punishment. How am I supposed to live with myself after this? Maybe that’s the point.
My wolf whines as I retreat further back inside him, forcing him to take all of it, to feel all of what he’s told he must do.
Aiden separates from Eliza, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers before moving her back. The sea of vampires swarm her, grabbing hold of her upper arms as she begs with Aiden and pleas with my wolf.
Shifting his body toward me, he nods, his hands balling into tight fists, his knuckles white. My wolf whines, hesitating his actions while he paces. A shock jolts through his body, delivered by the Fee on the throne, the king of death. My wolf yelps, jumping in his place. Again and again, the jolts deliver their pain-jarring bolts every time my wolf hesitates in playing Kheelan’s game. And each time my wolf grows increasingly restless, wanting to do anything for the pain to stop, like any animal would. His thoughts become ragged, desperate, and his actions become less forced and more frantic.
His muscles bunch, his back claws scrape the concrete, and he lunges into the air. Aiden stands still as a statue, brave to the end. Inch by inch, my wolf soars closer, opening his jaws at the last moment and snapping them around Aiden’s neck.
Teeth sink through flesh, the tips meeting and clinking together while blood coats my wolf’s tongue. Screams erupt in the small room, some with glee, some with sorrow. My wolf fills with regret and yanks his head to the side, ripping out Aiden’s throat. He drops to the floor, his paws skidding against the surface with flesh clung to his teeth.
I watch as Aiden clutches his neck, fresh blood gushing between his fingers. He drops to his knees, his eyes staring straight at me through my wolf’s eyes before falling the rest of the way. His body goes still, his hand falling from his neck, the life leaving his body. Blank eyes look to the side where his mother is, holding her hand over her mouth, tears spilling for the son she only just met.
My wolf shakes, his muscles and bones quivering as a metaphorical fire builds in the pit of his stomach. It reaches me, even as I watch from inside. He spins on the thick pads of his paws, his mind set on destroying the one who ordered the wrongful death. Keelan’s face holds such delight, like a child on Christmas morning. My wolf’s nails scrape against the stone as he barrels toward him, only to be stopped by a row of vampires plowing into his side. He snarls, the fire continuing its build, while held underneath the vampires.
“Enough!” Kheelan demands, his voice rising above all the chaos and bouncing off the walls. The room silences except for my wolf’s growls and the cries of loss.
My wolf yelps as bones crack and reshape to Kheelan’s will, forcing the shift and bringing me back to the surface. My naked back chills against the stone. I continue my wolf’s fight, struggling under the vampires before they crawl off me. They grab hold of my fist welding arms, lifting me to my feet and facing me toward Kheelan.
“Lessons must be learned,” he says as I glare at him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ve learned enough.” His face, eyes, and voice addresses the room. “Lock Jane and Tanya in a black cell.”
“No!” Jane yells behind me, her voice a demand.
Kheelan continues, though I see him stiffen, “Sentence them to twenty years. Be sure to separate them.”
I struggle in the grips of clawed hands, my eyes wide, my heart determined.
“Dyson,” he addresses me, “I hope you enjoy your new life. You’ll be spending the rest of it in a cell.” The vampires begin to drag me away to my fate, but Kheelan stops them by holding up a hand. “I’m not to the best part yet. Let’s let little Dyson stick around to hear it.”
His eyes shift to Eliza, a sadistic smile, one of the truest of natures, spreads over his face, lifting his eyes, his cheeks. “Eliza, my sweet lovely young lady. You’ll be my little queen.” He tilts his smile to me. “She’ll be in good hands,” he says, sarcasm dripping from every word like raindrops trickling down a gutter.
My eyes grow wide and I struggle, yanking with all my might to free myself. “No,” I demand. “No. Let her go. This is my punishment, not hers.”
Kheelan ignores me, his voice rising above mine. “Each breath you take, each beat of the heart I gave you, I want filled with all-consuming sorrow. I want to hear you beg for your life to end all the way from your cell to the inside of my chambers. I take her as my queen so that every thought that crosses your mind is filled with blame, knowing that each time I touch her, speak to her, demand of her, it’s your fault and no one else’s. That is your true sentence, Dyson Coleman.” He waves his hand, dismissing me. “Enjoy.”
*****
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound drives me insane. Where is the water coming from? I suppose Kheelan needs water just as living beings do. Do they refuse to clog the leak? Or are they determined to drive their prisoners mad?
Drip.
I cringe, my body shifting against the stone wall I lean against in my seated position. It’s dark in here. Zero light. Zero torches. Freezing. So cold that it seeps through my skin, my bones feeling like ice. I can’t keep warm. Nothing keeps me warm. My wolf refuses to believe he exists, angry with himself, with the situation, for what he was forced to do. I don’t blame him. If I could retreat to a dark corner and let someone else take the lead, I would.
Drip.
My teeth grind as my hands rub my naked body for warmth. “If this is their idea of torture, it’s working,” I croak to my neighbor. How long has it been since I was allowed water? Food? My stomach grumbles at the thought.
My neighbor babbles before
spitting out words. “Mad.” He giggles. “Mad, mad, mad.”
I glance in his direction, though I can’t see him. It’s an all-consuming dark, so black it swallows me, but at the same time, feels hollow, empty. Even my shifter vision can’t penetrate it.
I wonder how long my neighbor has been prisoner here. When the vampires come in, holding torches in their gnarled fists, lighting the cells, I catch glimpses of him. His hair is long, his skin dirty, and he looks as though he’s from another time. When I ask his name, he repeats one word: “Gan.” He repeats it, over and over for hours, until his voice falls silent.
“Gan,” I say, interrupting his fit of giggles, speaking to him as if he were a child. “Let’s try again. Okay?”
“Gan. Gan, Gan, Gan,” he babbles.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale, fighting off my misdirected frustration before it rolls off my tongue. “Gan. Try again,” I say, teeth clenched.
I’ve been working with him over the past few hours, trying to get him to haunt the Earth Realm, to find Kat.
His voice raises in pitch. “Again. Gan. Gan.”
I scoot away from the wall until I reach the bars between our cells. “That’s right. Again. Close your eyes, Gan. Find her.”
He quiets. My heart thuds in my chest, the blood coursing through my body, thick with anxiety. Kat is my only hope. I’ll die down here and not from old age. Come on, you crazy fool.
Encouraging Gan to cross the realms isn’t as easy as it sounds. Something happened to him, something that made him insane. My instructions seem to be falling on deaf ears. If I could just get him to Kat . . .. If I could get him to Kat and beg for help, maybe, just maybe, she’ll provide it. That’s if she can understand him. I don’t know how, but it’s better than accepting my fate of certain death.
