by Nyna Queen
Darken clenched his teeth. So, there wouldn't even be anything to dull the pain for her?
And she had known. She had known she would have to suffer through pain that turned her stomach and she had still agreed. Crazy woman.
Darken backed away from the cot, not trusting himself to stand too close to the physician when he performed his gruesome task.
With experienced quickness, the spindly doctor slipped on blue surgical gloves and pushed Alex’s hair aside, baring the white nape of her neck. It was a long, slender neck, but also strong with the indications of neck and shoulder muscles showing through her silky skin. Not an easy neck to break.
The Duke was staring at it with greedy eyes, unconsciously licking his lips. Anger flared in Darken, and he curled his fists.
Did he see the woman or only the investment? Both thoughts enraged him in equal measure.
Oh, if only he could rid the world of this pathetic excuse for a human being. It would be so easy. Step up to him from behind. Reach for that sleek neck. Just a slight caress, a little jerk, the snap of broken bones. A moment of delicious, sweet, sweet terror …
His glove was halfway off when he realized what he was doing. He yanked it back on and pressed his fists to his chest in an effort to contain his magic. Closed his eyes.
Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace! He was teetering on the edge of the darkness, slowly slipping into the night. His last kill was too long ago. He’d feasted on Alex, yes, but he hadn’t finished the kill, had not reaped the soul, and thus not gotten the release from the pressure building inside him. That sweet moment of redemption that never lasted long enough.
He would need to feed soon. But not now. Not now.
Metal clacked, and the sound jerked him back from his fall toward the killing edge. The doctor took a syringe from the lab table beside him and started to screw on a long glass vial to its back.
That’s what they were going to put into her? Great Mother, the needle was at least the length of his damn index finger and about as thick as a ball pen refill. More a drill than a medical instrument. That was a big needle for such a slender neck.
“I don’t like this!” Max, who’d crept back up to him unnoticed, whined, as he watched the preparation with trembling lips.
Yeah, me neither, buddy. Me neither.
Darken grabbed his nephew by the back of his head and pulled the boy close, turning him so that he couldn’t see what was happening. “It’s okay, buddy. Just don’t watch. Don’t watch.”
Even while he said it, he couldn’t take his own eyes off the needle as the physician raised it, bright sterile lights reflecting on the silver length.
With a quick jab of his free hand, he drove the needle into the back of her neck, like driving a nail in with a hammer. Alex reared up in her bonds and made a horrible sound, somewhere between a scream and a garbled moan. He’d once seen a horse that had tripped and spiked itself on a broken fence pole. It had made the same gut-wrenching sound until someone had had the mercy to put it out of its misery. The memory bit him with icy teeth, as the sound rang in his ears.
Alex strained, muscles protruding cord-like through her skin. Black claws shot from her fingertips, scraping at the metal with the screeching sound of chalk on a blackboard, as she struggled, hands and feet twisting, ripping at the bonds until the leather creaked as if it was about to snap.
Max trembled and struggled in his grip, trying to pull away, but Darken held on, pressing his face to his chest while fighting the overwhelming urge to glide over to the doctor and rip out his beating heart.
The screaming seemed to go on forever. Markings of dark gray and black curled over Alex’s exposed skin, which had turned stark white; flashes of her true skin, appearing and disappearing, while a viscous white liquid slowly filled the glass vial.
She had done this before? Why?
So many whys and no answers.
Unable to watch her struggle any longer, Darken turned his head away and cradled his nephew, murmuring soothing words, not quite sure who needed the comfort more.
ALEX sat on the cot, cradling her head in her hands. It was throbbing viciously, sending wave after wave of dizziness through her body. She tried hard not to move because when she did the nausea became so strong she feared she would throw up, and there was no way she’d disgrace herself that far. Not with all the people in the room.
A little down to her left Valentine was softly speaking with Dr. Creepy-Creevy, their voices nothing but a muffled buzz in her ears, holding onto a big vial full of milky white liquid with a greedy gleam in his eyes, as if it was a priced treasure. Well, it certainly was that. He could make a grand with that much shaper venom; two, if he found a desperate buyer.
Alex shivered despite having put her sweater back on, and rubbed her arms, desperate to dispel the chill from of her body. It wasn’t really cold in the lab, but her system, keen on reproducing its necessary venom levels, was throwing all its energy into that task and was thus unable to burn anything to keep her warm.
She felt Darken approach—a shadowy breeze that held the heat of fire and the chill of night—and raised her head, instantly regretting the movement, when her stomach did a funny flip and the pancakes she’d had for dinner made a strong effort for a quick reappearance. She forced them down again—in hindsight they really hadn’t been that good.
He studied her for a moment and she braced herself for a nasty comment. She could well imagine that she didn’t exactly look her best right now. To her surprise he just leaned against the end of the cot, crossing his feet at his ankles, looking utterly decadent and formidable against the white sterility of the room.
“Are you okay?”
Tease or concern? Always a gamble with him.
Concern, she finally decided, because, honestly, she was too exhausted and too weak right now to deal with anything else.
“I’ve felt better,” she admitted. It was the understatement of the century.
Dr. Creevy appeared at her side, offering her a steaming mug. From the smell of it, it was some kind of strong herbal concoction.
“Here. That should bring you ‘round a little.”
Years of being on guard had made her reluctant about taking food or drinks from strangers, and the shaper in her wanted to claw into the man who had punched her with that needle, but finally, the human side of her prevailed and she accepted the mug with a curt nod. Really, it couldn’t get that much worse.
Her hands shivered visibly, and the liquid lapped against the rim. Boy, she was freezing!
Without a word, Darken took off his coat again and put it around her shoulders. Alex started to protest, but he gave her a sharp warning glance not to challenge him on this one, and, to be true, it felt nice and warm, so why bother?
She took a sip from the mug and grimaced. Ugh. Why did these things always had to taste so vile? Like a blend of seaweeds and damp socks. It did make her feel a little better though, so she forced herself to keep going. Tiny sips, that was the trick.
“How are the kids keeping up?”
At the far end of the room, Josy slumped on the floor, hands wrapped around her knobby knees staring blankly into space, while Max, small and puffy-eyed, perched beside her and awkwardly patted her hand.
A shadow crossed Darken’s face when he followed her gaze, before his trueborn mask slipped back into place. “They will be alright. It’s just a lot they had to cope with these past few days.” A tinge of hesitation. “Seeing this wasn’t easy for them either.”
A flicker of guilt wormed its way through Alex’s intestines. She’d been so busy nursing her own dread about the venom-withdrawal, she hadn’t lost a thought on how the whole thing might affect the children. Chance was, Max hadn’t liked seeing her hurting, but apart from that he probably only saw a lot of strange people doing strange things in a strange flashy place.
Josy, on the other hand, was old enough to understand the real nature of this place—with all its dirty implications—and what their portal
might have cost. Not to forget that she was a healer-sister. Alex didn’t have any sound knowledge about the caste of the Healing Hands, but it was said that their magic attuned them to pain and suffering. With her own sensory threads, she could pick up notions of pain from people, but she could easily distance herself from them as well. Was it the same for a healer? Could she also just close her mental eyes and ignore it, or did she have to share in the pain and misery around her without any way to withdraw into herself?
“Sasha!” The Duke finally found it in him to tear himself away from his precious treat and came strolling toward her. “How are you feeling? Did we manage to get all the venom?”
“Why don’t you come over and we give it a try?” Alex suggested sweetly, baring her human teeth at him.
“That’s my Sasha,” the Duke smirked, “if she’s able to make threats again, she must be alright.” But there was a flicker of panic in his eyes and he instinctively took a step back and reached for his neck.
Yeah, yeah, Valentine. All mouth and no trousers.
Beside her, Darken watched their little cat and mouse game with predatory amusement.
Alex put the empty mug aside and carefully slid from the cot, fighting against the immediate vertigo punching the back of her knees, trying not to show any of the weakness she felt. When she felt steady enough to breathe evenly, she nodded her head to the venom vial the lab coat was just stowing away in a small suitcase, ignoring the dizziness the movement evoked.
“I kept my end of the bargain.” She raised her chin. “Your turn.”
The Duke sighed and shook his head in mock exasperation. “Always in such a hurry. Patience is a virtue, you know.”
“Well, patience was never one of my major strengths, as you are well aware of.” Alex flicked a stray stand of blond hair from her face. “I had a fucking huge needle in my back, I feel like shit, and I am armed with a dozen knives,” a growl entered her voice as she leaned forward, “so do you really think this is a good time to try me?”
Valentine’s lips curled a little, but then they pressed together, and he inclined his head. “Very well.”
THIS time they didn’t have to walk far through the Duke’s underground castle, but for Alex, it felt like an extended hiking trip.
Darken had made a move to support her when she’d let go of the cot and almost headed nose first to the floor, but she’d snarled at him with enough sharpness that he’d backed away with hands raised defensively. Now, as she limped along the basement floor behind Valentine and his flunkies, she almost regretted being so rash about it. Every step was a fight against the blackness, an effort of will, and there was no say how much further it would carry her.
Entirely busy in putting one foot in front of the other without toppling over, she was completely startled when suddenly a small hand slipped into hers. So startled in fact, that she nearly pulled back, before she could stop herself.
Max glanced up at her from his big brown puppy eyes and gave her a timid smile. At some point between the bar and now, he seemed to have shaken off his qualms and obviously decided she was safe to trust.
Alex smiled back. Or, at least, she hoped it looked like a smile.
“Did it hurt very much?” he asked, biting his lip. “Uncle Darken said it was necessary so we would be able to get back home. He said you had to be very brave.”
Alex’s eyes traveled over Darken’s well-muscled back a little in front of her, where he walked with one arm protectively curled around Josy’s slim shoulders, who was leaning heavily on him. He didn’t break his stride, but she thought she saw him tense a little. Heard what the kid said?
“Oh, actually it always looks a lot worse than it is.” Alex waved her other hand, trying to downplay things a little to soothe the boy. “We shapers are awfully tough.” That was true.
Max chewed on the inside of his lower lip, not quite buying it. “You screamed. Very loud.”
“Yeah, I know. Probably sounded horrible, didn’t it?” She playfully tugged at his ear and made a scary face. “But that was mostly because my true skin was trying to get the upper hand.” That was an outright lie.
Max, however, looked extremely relieved.
“Really?” He gave her a brilliant boyish smile. “Wait, I’m gonna tell Josy!” And off he bounced to reassure his sister. Alex doubted that the girl would buy the lie as easily as her brother, but she hoped she had the sense to leave him the illusion.
She followed him with her eyes and this time she was sure that Darken tensed for a second. Yes, yes, your Truebornness, I, too, can weave a web so intricate, a little boy can get dazzled by the strands. It was a spider’s master art and she excelled in it. Had always excelled in it. A web spinner. A word weaver. Words. Lies. Truth. Silky strands. Always so brittle.
The distance between her and the rest of the group was slowly growing. Clenching her teeth, Alex forced her stiff legs to keep up. Come on, sugar, just a couple more steps.
Fortunately, she was right.
The Duke’s portal chamber was a circular stone room with a rounded archway in the middle, studded with carved arcane glyphs and symbols. At its feet, on a slab of stone, sat a flat, rectangular basin filled with a blue gelatinous agar: the coordinates panel. Beside it on a small blackwood table waited a silver stick balanced on a pen holder made of black volcanic glass.
Alex hobbled to the next wall and dropped against it, glad for the little relief it granted her shaky legs. Had it always been this bad?
The Duke approached his very own playground with an almost maniacal glint in his eyes. At the basin, he turned with another flourishing bow and raised a hand. “Coordinates—please.”
Darken glided past him to the panel, took the silver stick like a scalpel and with sensuous, swift movements started caving the coordinates into the magic agar. Valentine, who was watching over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow.
“That is the glyph for Lancaester, Ciradell, if I am not completely mistaken.” His eyes flickered to Alex and then, again, over her companions, finally giving the kids some in-depth scrutiny.
Darken fixed him with a chilling, sleepy smile. He still smiled when he put the metal stick back into its holder, hammering it down with enough magic backed force that it broke the almost indestructible volcanic glass bottom, entering the massive wooden table top for about an inch and a half.
Silence filled the chamber.
With a jerk, Darken yanked the carving stick out of the table and then, very carefully, put its remains down on the black tabletop, every bit haughty, ice-carved trueborn.
“I am exceptionally sorry for your carving tool.”
Exceptionally. Right. And who said she didn’t have any restraint?
The Duke stared at the twisted piece of metal and the broken table top and swallowed. After a moment he shrugged, knowing better than to test the patience of one of Death’s Servants. He’d gotten his bargain, anyway. And a good one at that.
“Well then,” he rubbed his hands together, regaining some of his sleek manner. “Let’s do some serious shit-magic.”
He raised his arms. For a moment nothing happened, then magic gathered in the air. It pricked on Alex’s skin, stroking her senses. It pooled around the Duke until he seemed to glow with it, as if visible energy threads were running through his body, luminescent under his skin. The spider in her writhed, aware, hungry, attentive. Standing so close to the sweet energy was like standing below a refreshing waterfall.
With the sigh of a satisfied lover, Valentine opened his arms wider and tilted back his head. “Is there anything more delicious than a sip from our Great Mother’s cup? Ahhh, such a sweet taste of power.”
The magic squirmed and crested, pulsing through him and he channeled it into the panel, a rider guiding a wild horse on the track. The arcane glyphs around the stone arch started to glow bright silver-blue, starting a spiraling sequence that matched the glyphs in the coordinates panel. The air inside the arch writhed, condensed and turned liquid, rippling like th
e surface of a troubled pond; a shimmering stretch of water that gently creased the tissue of space and connected two places in one. It slowly became transparent, revealing a park, all manicured lawns and cultivated trees around swept cobblestone paths, monochrome in the dim light of evenly spaced park lanterns. It was like gazing into an upended lake and finding a hidden world at its bottom.
Outside the chamber was some kind of clamor, the sound of hasty approaching feet, inaudible below the spectacle in the room, except for a shaper.
Alex’s head snapped up—resulting in a blaze of dizziness—just as the door burst open and one of the Duke’s lapdogs poked his shaved knucklehead into the room.
“Trouble boss!”
The words were followed by a loud blast and a couple of angry shouts.
Alex and Darken exchanged a glance, and she saw that he thought what she thought: They are here!
Valentine saw it too, and glared at her, face twisting with a twinge of aggrieved accusation. “I knew I should have charged you more!”
Something crashed in the corridor outside. The burned smell of unloaded magic energy pricked Alex’s nose.
Quickly, almost casually, Darken reached over to the panel, swiping at one of the coordinates and quickly reshaping it. It happened so fast, she wasn’t even sure it had happened, but for a second the portal shimmered, turning slightly translucent, before becoming clear once again. Behind it waited only blackness.
Alex pushed herself off the wall and almost fell when her legs gave out under her. All of a sudden Darken was beside her. He took one look at her, cursed softly and swept her up into his arms.
Alex’s stomach fluttered madly. “What did I say about your hands on my body?”
He stared down at her in pure disbelief. “Does that really include moments when we are being chased and you are unable to walk by yourself?”
Good point. “Oh, well, I guess I could make an exception.”
