Shades of Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  The fairy wings drooped. “Oops.”

  Chapter 15

  Chaaya tried not to stare. The jinn was a dark, luscious temptation as he inspected her with a lazy gaze. Everything about him oozed sex and desire and…hunger. And she had a suspicion she’d be crawling over him in mindless need if he released the full effect of his magic.

  Thankfully he was content to study her with an unwavering emerald gaze. At least until the distant screams echoed through the air. Then he offered her a smile that made her heart slam against her ribs.

  “As I said.” Kgosi waved a languid hand. “Just a matter of time.”

  Chaaya shook off the bewitchment. If she’d still been human there would have been no way she could break free of the magic, but her current reincarnation—or whatever had happened to her—offered immunity to most magic. Plus, there was a large part of her that would never be swayed by a jinn, no matter how gorgeous he might be. A part that belonged to another male, even if she wasn’t prepared to admit it.

  “How do you know my name?” she asked, ignoring Basq’s warning frown. She didn’t know much about jinns. No one did. But it didn’t take an expert to suspect that only a fool pissed them off. That didn’t stop her, of course. She didn’t know how to be anything but an in-your-face sort of gal. “Have you been watching us?”

  “I’ve caught glimpses of you over the centuries,” Kgosi claimed. “I know you were sacrificed to halt the evil tide from corrupting the earthly magic.”

  Chaaya narrowed her eyes, but it was Basq who pointed out the obvious. “Her story isn’t a secret.”

  The emerald gaze drifted over Basq’s tightly clenched features. “But yours is, isn’t it, vampire? You have hidden in the shadows, both real and metaphorical.”

  Chaaya’s brows snapped together. Dabbler had claimed Kgosi was an oracle and that he could help her locate Brigette. But she wasn’t nearly so confident. In fact, she suspected that Dabbler had hoped to dump them here in the belief the jinn would be angry enough to kill them for intruding.

  Instead, it sounded like the brownie had died a painful death.

  Bonus.

  “Can you see the future?” she asked.

  He pursed his full, sensual lips. “I can see several futures.”

  She made a choking sound. “I hate the mumbo jumbo of oracles.”

  Basq stepped closer, as if expecting the jinn to strike out. Instead Kgosi arched a brow.

  “Have you known many oracles?”

  She wanted to tell him she’d known a hundred. Maybe a thousand, but that ruthless emerald gaze warned her that Kgosi would know if she was lying.

  “Just the one in our village,” she admitted. “Sybil was always predicting disaster. Either the harvest would fail, or a plague was coming.” She wrinkled her nose. Sybil had craved constant attention as she’d drifted around the village dressed in flimsy robes, her face covered by a veil. Every so often she would stop in the center of the market and start spouting nonsense while she waved her arms in dramatic motions. “Once she predicted that the moon was going to fall from the sky.”

  Kgosi appeared unimpressed. “She sounds more like a charlatan than a true oracle.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell everyone, but would they listen to me?” Chaaya spread her fingers in a gesture of defeat. “No.”

  A silence filled the vast space as Kgosi studied her with his unnerving gaze. “She didn’t get anything right?” he at last demanded.

  “A few rainstorms. Some deaths.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And?”

  Chaaya snorted. “And she told me that she could see darkness in my future.”

  Kgosi tapped a slender finger on the pillow next to him. “Didn’t you have darkness?”

  Chaaya grimaced at the reminder of her endless centuries spent in the hell dimension.

  “That could mean anything,” she protested. “Besides, I think it was more a fervent hope for something bad to happen to me than an actual prophecy. She hated me.”

  “Shocking,” Basq softly murmured.

  She widened her eyes with utter innocence. “I know, right? I’m oozing with charm.”

  There was a rustle of silk and a soft breeze scented with jasmine as Kgosi rose to his feet.

  “If you have no belief in oracles, then why did you seek me out?”

  Chaaya tilted back her head, keeping her gaze locked on the male’s perfectly carved face. His broad, naked chest was more than a mere ghost girl could handle.

  “Dabbler promised a way to find the Were I’m trying to capture. He didn’t say you were an oracle.”

  “Ah.” Kgosi tilted his head, as if listening to a silent voice. “The Were. And a tiny gargoyle.”

  Chaaya jerked in shock. Could he actually be a for-real oracle? One that did more than prance around for attention?

  “You know where they are?”

  “I thought you didn’t believe.”

  She planted her fists on her hips. “Tell me.”

  The male smiled. “Closer than you imagine.”

  Disappointment flooded through her. “See?” She sent a disgusted glance toward Basq. “Mumbo jumbo.”

  A ripple of magic slammed against Chaaya, a less-than-subtle reminder that this male might act like a lazy, self-indulgent, reasonably harmless demon, when in reality he was one of the most powerful forces in any dimension.

  “If you want the right answer, you must ask the right question,” he told her.

  Chaaya’s mouth went dry as she warily returned her attention to the jinn. “You claimed to see Dabbler’s future, and our past.”

  Kgosi nodded. “I can see both.”

  “What about the present?”

  “Time has no meaning for an oracle.” Kgosi waved his arms in an expansive gesture. “When I have a vision it could be from yesterday, today, or a thousand years from now.”

  “That’s…unhelpful,” Chaaya muttered before she could halt the words.

  The emerald of his eyes began to swirl, as if they were caught in a whirlwind. Or perhaps they were about to shoot out tornadoes that would rip her to shreds. Hard to say.

  “I have remained polite because this meeting was destined to occur, but don’t try my patience, Chaaya.”

  Basq moved with blinding speed, placing his larger body in front of her. “Don’t threaten her.”

  Chaaya’s gut clenched with terror. She didn’t particularly want to be shredded by a tornado, but that was a lot better than seeing Basq hurt. The mere thought was enough to send her into a panic.

  No tornadoes appeared, however, and the jinn’s voice was more curious than threatening as he studied the vampire.

  “Does she know?”

  Chaaya stepped to the side, watching Basq’s face pale. He slowly shook his head.

  “Know what?” she asked. No answer. “Basq?”

  “Later,” he promised.

  Her lips parted to demand an explanation when the jinn abruptly returned his attention to her, his eyes still swirling.

  “Ask the question,” he barked.

  Chaaya’s flippant attitude was decidedly absent as she searched her brain for the right words. She wasn’t afraid. At least, not for herself. But she wasn’t going to put Basq at risk because of her smart-ass mouth.

  “Is the Were infected with the same darkness that I battled before?” she cautiously asked.

  “No.”

  Chaaya grimaced. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The devil she knew or the devil she didn’t—which was worse?

  “But she is infected with some new power?” she pressed.

  “No. She’s being manipulated, but she’s not infected.”

  Chaaya grunted in shock. Was it possible she’d been chasing after the stupid Were for no good reason? Typical. One day she’d cure her
impulsive…

  No. That was a lie. She would always be impulsive. But perhaps one day she’d have a partner who could whisper words of caution in her ear. She hastily shoved aside the weird thought. This wasn’t the time or place for such nonsense.

  “So there’s no danger to the world?” she asked.

  Kgosi held up a slender hand. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But—”

  The hand sliced through the air, warning Chaaya she was near the end of the jinn’s patience.

  “The question,” Kgosi snapped.

  Running her fingers down the shaft of her spear, she allowed the tingles of magic to bolster her courage. She knew the question.

  She just didn’t want to ask it.

  At last, she squared her shoulders. This was important. She didn’t know why. She just knew.

  She forced out the words. “Can you take me to the power who is manipulating Brigette?”

  A smile of triumph curved Kgosi’s lips. “At last.”

  Basq wasn’t nearly so pleased. Whirling to face her, he studied her in horror. “Chaaya, no.”

  She shrugged, already prepared as the jinn waved his hand and a tiny cyclone formed above her head. The wind battered her, tugging at her hair and forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut.

  Then, just as she felt herself being sucked off the ground, a familiar hand reached out to grab her arm.

  Shit.

  * * * *

  Inga was always nervous when she sat on the throne. Not only did she fear that it might shatter beneath her massive weight, but it made her the center of attention. Something she hated. Even worse, she had to wear her crown. The stupid thing poked painfully into her skull, and it would never stay straight. No matter how many times she pushed it into place, it would inevitably slide to the side, making her look like a drunken sailor.

  The only thing that made her feel better was the heavy Tryshu she gripped in her hand. People might laugh at the sight of her on the throne, but they wouldn’t do it to her face. Not as long as she carried the huge trident.

  “Are you ready?” Troy asked.

  He stood on the dais next to her, his expression impatient. She heaved a gloomy sigh.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He smiled, patting her shoulder. “You’ll be brilliant.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not clever or subtle like you, Troy. You can convince anyone to tell you what you want. If I need information from someone, I bash them over the head.”

  He gave another pat on her shoulder. “Just ask him to recount what happened the night Brigette escaped.” He started to turn away, only to glance back. “And make sure it’s a detailed account. We need to discover if he’s been lying.”

  Yeah. No problem. Inga forced herself to nod. “Okay.”

  Leaping off the dais, Troy motioned toward Rimm, who was standing across the long room. Then, with a last glance at Inga, the imp disappeared into the secret passageway.

  Inga released a shaky breath, concentrating on the young guard who entered the throne room with a wary expression.

  Showtime.

  “Welcome, Riza,” she said, inclining her head in what she hoped was a regal manner, at the same time motioning for Rimm to close the door. She didn’t want anyone overhearing this particular conversation.

  Slowly the merman walked toward the throne, his scaled uniform gleaming and his fingers nervously tugging at the belt that held his trident in place. Once he was standing in front of Inga, he performed a deep bow.

  “You asked to see me, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes.”

  There was an awkward pause. Riza cleared his throat. “Is something wrong?”

  Inga sucked in a deep breath. She’d rehearsed this encounter with Troy, she reminded herself. She knew what she was supposed to say.

  “On the contrary. I believe I owe you my personal gratitude,” she assured the man, careful not to smile.

  For some reason the mer-folk found her smile intimidating. Maybe because of her razor-sharp teeth. Or more likely because it usually looked like a grimace rather than an expression of happiness. Not her fault. She hadn’t had much practice smiling.

  Riza looked confused. “Gratitude?”

  “You were the only guard to be alarmed by the Were’s ramblings,” Inga clarified. “If we had listened to your concerns sooner, then Brigette might still be locked in her cell.”

  “Oh.” Riza shifted from foot to foot. He was obviously nervous, but that didn’t mean he was guilty. “I did nothing.”

  Inga clicked her tongue. “There’s no need to be modest.”

  He stretched his lips into a smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty. If that is all…”

  Riza started to back away, but Inga waved the Tryshu in his direction. Immediately the male froze in place.

  “Actually, we have need of your services,” she told him.

  The guard glanced behind Inga, as if expecting to see Troy. “We?”

  Inga nodded toward Rimm, who stood silently by the doors. She’d tried to tell the older male that she didn’t need his protection, but he’d insisted on being in the throne room.

  “My captain continues to insist that the dungeons are adequately protected, but I’m not convinced.”

  Riza’s gaze darted back to her, his expression defensive. Was he trying to decide what nefarious reason Inga might have for asking her questions? Or just baffled why he would be included in a debate between his captain and his queen?

  “They are extremely well guarded, my queen,” he assured her.

  “Obviously not,” Inga protested. “My prisoner was speaking to shadows and no one noticed but you.”

  “I’m sure they just dismissed her babbling as that of dungeon fever.”

  Inga lifted her shaggy brows. “Dungeon fever?”

  “It happens to prisoners when they’re driven mad from the isolation.”

  She pretended to consider his explanation. At last she heaved a gusty sigh. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t prove the dungeons are secure.”

  Riza glanced toward Rimm. The older male gave a shrug, as if warning Riza that he was on his own.

  “I’m not sure what you want from me, Your Majesty,” Riza hesitantly admitted.

  Inga settled back in the throne. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

  “Happened?” the guard furrowed his brow. “When the prisoner escaped?”

  “Yes.”

  “I made my report.” He waved a hand toward Rimm. “I’m sure the captain can—”

  “The queen would like to hear it from you,” Rimm interrupted.

  A salty-sour tang filled the air. For whatever reason, Riza didn’t like the direction of the conversation.

  “I was on duty guarding the dungeon,” he said, hesitantly.

  Inga nodded. “Alone?”

  “There were two guards in the outer chamber.”

  “And then?”

  “I was struck from behind and knocked unconscious.”

  Inga pursed her lips, as if considering her next question. “You didn’t see who it was?”

  “No.”

  “And when you woke, the cell was open?”

  Riza’s expression remained defensive, but he responded without hesitation. Probably because he’d told this part of his story a dozen times.

  “It was. And the prisoner was gone.”

  “What did you do?”

  Again there was no hesitation. “I went in search of her.”

  “What about the other guards?”

  Riza faltered. “Which ones?”

  Inga leaned forward. “The two in the outer chamber.”

  “Oh…I…” He looked confused, obviously caught off guard. Mention of the other guards hadn’t been in his report. “They were gone,”
he finally said.

  “Gone?” Inga pretended to be baffled. “Weren’t they knocked out at the same time?”

  “Well…” He hesitated before seeming to be struck by inspiration. “That’s what they said. I never did see them knocked out, so I can’t say for certain what happened to them.”

  Inga hid a grimace. What was that human saying? Throwing someone under the train? A bus?

  “Are you suggesting that they might have been responsible for Brigette’s escape?”

  Riza spread his hands, trying to appear regretful. “I’m not suggesting anything. I just know they weren’t in the outer room when I woke and went in search of the prisoner.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I really should return to my post.”

  Inga stroked her fingers along the shaft of the Tryshu before giving a grudging nod. They had what they needed.

  “Of course,” she agreed, waving her hand toward the doors. “Thank you again for your very brave service to the throne.”

  “Your Majesty.” The male backed toward the door that Rimm was pulling open. Then, with a jerky bow, he turned and fled down the corridor.

  Inga remained seated on the throne as Troy strolled out of the hidden passage and halted next to the dais.

  “Gotcha,” he murmured, a smug smile curving his lips.

  Inga frowned. The younger guard had been twitchy and obviously eager to be away from the throne room, but that didn’t prove guilt.

  “You’re sure?”

  Troy sent her a startled glance. “Koral and Lusca swore that they woke to find Riza gone,” he reminded her. “Now Riza is saying that they were gone, with the implication that they might be responsible.”

  “Koral and Lusca could be the ones who are lying.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence.” Troy’s voice was hard. He’d made up his mind who was responsible. “It was Riza and Jord who made a show of Brigette talking to shadows. And Jord who rushed in to reveal that the Were had escaped.”

  Inga slumped back in the throne. Troy was right. The two guards had been manipulating them from the beginning.

  “I still don’t understand why,” she muttered.

  Troy’s green eyes glowed with ruthless determination. “That’s what I’m about to find out.”