“To begin, allow me to introduce myself properly.”
The intercom fell silent and a flash in the corner of Arden’s eye turned his attention across the room. He spun, ready to defend himself, when he realized that one of the crystal walls had merely lit up like a TV screen. Upon further inspection, there were no doors, which raised more questions than answers. The screen glitched for a moment before a man’s head and shoulders appeared.
Arden froze. It was the other fae. The one who’d come so close to being sacrificed for the Emperor’s amusement along with his friend. The same pity that had been in his eyes then was there now, even though their positions were very much reversed.
“My name is Dusk,” he continued in that gentle, almost musical tone. “Crown prince of the Vale. Last we met, my tongue was a bit tied.”
Arden remembered the gag he’d been wearing, but his words made no sense. Crown prince? The Vale? The fae who were unlucky enough to be spit out surface side to guard the portal to their world stayed within the safety of Praya. Those who ventured beyond it were either exiles or prisoners and beyond the mercy and help of their own kind. No one on the topside of Teros had ever seen the prince, but Arden was damn sure he’d never end up as a party favor at a Master Vampire’s home.
“I represent a covert organization that has existed for many years, but I doubt you’ve heard of us,” Dusk continued. “We are the Brotherhood of Aeon. Protectors of the Vale.”
If that was supposed to mean something to Arden, it didn’t. He knew of Aeon, of course. Aeon was the dead King of the Vale. A folk hero among fae and humans, some prophesied Messiah who had obviously failed to bring about whatever salvation they longed for. Pitiful person to name an organization after, but there was no accounting for taste among the insane, it seemed.
“I’m sure it is no secret to you that our people have been at war even through the supposed ceasefire. While the battlefield maneuvers may have ceased, through covert agents such as yourself, the Master Vampire Eric and others like him have been working to subvert the magical barrier that protects the portal into the Vale.” His gaze grew somber. “We are aware of this, and we have been performing covert missions of our own to counteract these purposes. The Vale must be protected at all costs, including the loss of those I hold dear.”
Arden thought of the blue-haired soldier. The one whose life he’d ended so swiftly. As he’d suspected, there was obviously some deeper connection between them, but that made the fae’s mercy toward his killer all the more unusual.
“The man you killed at the party last week was my cousin,” Dusk explained. “He was an operative captured by your Master several months ago. My hope was to extract him peacefully, but that was not the primary mission.”
Through the sadness in the fae’s words, Arden began to piece together a picture that made sense. The fae he’d killed was a prisoner of war, as he’d guessed, but if Dusk wasn’t there that night on a rescue mission and if Arden’s current predicament wasn’t about revenge, then what was it?
“The primary mission,” Dusk said, in answer to his unspoken question, “was to extract you. Alive.”
The confusion in the Puppet’s eyes must have come through whatever screen the fae was using to observe him. His gaze softened and his delicate lips smiled ever so slightly. Arden felt like he was being watched by a benevolent god willing to overlook his mortal shortcomings due to pity. “There is much you do not understand, and much you will in time. What is important now is for you to know that no harm will come to you in this place.” He paused, looking into Arden’s eyes as if they were in the same room. “I do not hold you responsible for my cousin’s death. You know not what you are, nor what you are capable of, and it is through no fault of your own that your Master has distorted your true nature.”
His words made no more sense than the rest of it. It was all too much. Arden grasped at the straps keeping the muzzle in place, but his fingers were still clumsy from the drugs. He jolted as the vision on the screen disappeared and it became a crystal wall once more. As he stood frozen, the crystal morphed and took on the shape of a human.
Arden raised his hands and willed his claws to form, but his fingers remained the same useless digits. His heart pounded as he realized the poison had done more than just incapacitate him. The chromatic blob before him was taking on a more defined shape by the second, until the fae stood before him in all his regal glory. He had traded his skimpy servant outfit for an elegant uniform of blue and gold, and he looked like the prince he claimed to be.
Arden stumbled back. He’d never felt helpless before, and with or without his claws and fangs, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Still, this was a full-blooded fae, and a high-ranking one if he was to be taken at his word. His resistance to magic would keep Dusk from killing him, assuming the drugs hadn’t somehow taken that from him as well.
It made no sense. Eric had performed countless tests to make sure his beloved pet was prepared for all circumstances. A high enough dosage of any lethal substance could take him down for a period of minutes, hours at the most, but none of the concoctions Eric’s researchers had experimented with had yielded results other than sedation and temporary weakness.
“Do not be afraid,” Dusk pleaded, taking a step closer. Arden backed up against the wall, the furthest he could get from the encroaching fae. There was pity in those red eyes again. They softened as he crept closer and Arden’s body seized in terror that was foreign to him as the fae’s hands settled on either side of his head.
“I’ll take it off,” he promised, his voice gentle and kind. Arden froze, not because he believed him, but because he suddenly understood the innate response of a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. There was no point in struggle when surrender was inevitable, but he found himself unable to try regardless.
True to his word, the fae unbuckled the heavy mask and let it fall to the floor. Arden’s lower jaw ached from the sudden release, but his fangs were of far more concern. The twin razor-sharp canines were nothing more than dull eye teeth.
“What did you do to me?” he snarled, cringing away from Dusk in the corner. He hated appearing frail and helpless before this creature who stood so tall and proud, and the sympathy only made it more humiliating.
“I will explain,” Dusk said calmly. “While you were asleep in your coffin, still under the effect of sedation, I had my team install an implant.”
An implant? Arden’s hands flew to his temples, the favored location of Eric’s scientists. He felt nothing but his own hair and skin, his pulse pounding beneath it.
“The back of your neck,” Dusk explained. “A far less invasive procedure, in my opinion.”
Arden touched the back of his neck and his fingers brushed over something that shouldn’t have been possible. Raised skin, inflamed from the seven stitches knitting the slit down his spinal column together.
Vampires didn’t scar, they healed almost instantly. Something was truly wrong with him. Something irreparable, too horrifying to allow himself to think it freely.
“What have you done?” he repeated. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Dusk said sadly. “Although I imagine you won’t see it that way. I didn’t poison you, Arden. Quite the opposite. I cured you.”
“Cured?” he choked. “Cured what?”
“Your vampirism.”
The confirmation of everything he had feared.
“That’s not possible!” he seethed.
“With fae technology, it is. Although, given the lack of volunteers, it is an imprecise science,” he admitted. “It will take time for all the lingering effects to work their way out of your system. I didn’t want to introduce too much of the cure at once, so the implant will administer it gradually over the next several weeks.”
Arden’s panic turned to action and he immediately began clawing at the back of his neck.
“Don’t,” Dusk warned, wincing. A moment later, as Arden felt something crawling underneath his ski
n, burrowing deeper into the muscle to get out of his reach, he understood the warning.
He let out a cry of pain and fell to his knees. Blood seeped from the agitated wound, but the implant settled in deeper like a beetle beneath his skin. The sensation sent a shudder down his spine that ran deep through his soul and he collapsed on all fours, panting.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t remove it,” Dusk said, sinking to his knees. Arden was weak and stunned enough that when the fae cupped his face in his hands and tilted his head up to meet his eyes, he didn’t immediately pull away. “I know this means nothing to you right now, but I swear that none of this is being done to hurt you.”
“Why?” Arden’s voice was raw from the scream, his emotions even rawer still. He searched the fae’s beautiful face for answers and found only sadness.
“You are a chimera, Arden,” Dusk said, pausing to let his words sink in. Arden had heard the phrase throughout his life, always a dismissive reference from the vampires. “The truth of what that means has been concealed from you, but all will be revealed in time. You are destined to be so much more than a weapon, a tool in the hands of a creature who should bow at your feet.”
Dusk’s words broke the spell of his gentle voice and Arden struck his hand away. Eric bowing at his feet? The fae was either mad, or trying to drive him to it. He wouldn’t hear a word of it. Not from the man who’d taken everything from him.
Human. After all he’d gone through, all Eric had done for him, he was a weak, mortal human once again, trapped and bound to the whims of Dusk and his damned Brotherhood. The most absurd part of it all was that the fae acted like it was a rescue mission. Like he’d saved him… and from what? From a life of purpose? Meaning? Of belonging to someone he would gladly die for, if he only had the chance?
Now Eric would never want him. The realization set in with enough grief to crush him and he wished he could end it then and there. Escape was meaningless if he had to face Eric like this. As a human. Useless.
“Arden,” Dusk pleaded, reaching for him.
Arden pushed himself back, his loose robe falling off one shoulder as he sought to distance himself from the fae. His only defense, and a pitiful one at that. “Leave me alone,” he spat.
Dusk’s face fell, but he stood up and backed away. “I’ll give you some time,” he murmured. “When you’re ready, come out.”
Arden looked around at the solid crystal walls. The fae passed through it the way he’d come, like stepping through a waterfall, but when he was gone, it looked just as solid. As tempted as Arden was to follow him, he was too overcome with grief to move. He pulled his legs to his chest and squeezed himself into a ball, letting the tears that hadn’t flowed since he’d traded his human soul for immortality stream down his face.
Hell. This was hell, and the only consolation was that he no longer had an eternity to spend in it.
4
Dusk
“Not all wounded animals can be rehabilitated.”
Dusk frowned at the elf who’d just entered the observation room. He could see the sleeping chimera through the crystalline monitor, and even though Arden couldn’t see out, he seemed aware of being watched.
As much as the voyeurism weighed on his consciousness, he wasn’t about to risk leaving the chimera alone. He knew how attached Puppets were to their masters. And their purposes. One who had not only been taken from his master but robbed of his immortality was, without a doubt, a suicide risk.
Not to mention a risk in so many other ways. Even though Arden was more or less human by that point, Dusk was under no delusion that he was no longer a threat. He had been trained in the art of death since infancy, and he could not be underestimated, even in mortal form.
He was, after all, a chimera. What saddened Dusk the most was the fact that it seemed unlikely Arden had any idea what that actually meant.
“You say that like there’s no point in trying.” Dusk turned to face the tall, white-haired man. Leo was still wearing his dress uniform, and the brilliant red fabric was perfectly tailored to his lithe and powerful body. What he lacked in manners, he more than made up for in beauty.
“I never said that.” Leo leaned on the chassis for the control panel as if he wasn’t putting his full weight on millions of terots worth of technology. “Just hoping you set some more realistic expectations this time.”
“And what would you have me do?” he challenged. “Put him down?”
“I know Eric, better than anyone,” Leo answered. “He’s not going to let his favorite go easily.”
“Let him bring his army to Praya. See how well that works out for him.”
Leo smirked. “I’m not talking about his army. Vampires have a way of getting into their subjects’ heads. Did you ever consider the fact that he doesn’t want to be saved?”
“Of course he doesn’t. He’s been brainwashed his entire life,” said dusk. “That hardly means he isn’t deserving of a chance.”
“I never said that.” Leo reached out and tapped the fae’s nose. “Just mind your expectations.”
Dusk pursed his lips and blew a puff of air into his cheeks. The gesture made the elf laugh, which was partly his intention. They never ceased to find subjects to quarrel over, even if they were fighting on the same side now. “Just keep your pessimism to yourself. This is already going to be an uphill battle.”
Leo raised his hands. “I never interfere.”
“Oh, really?”
“Well, sure. But only when you’re about to get your ass kicked.”
“Please,” Dusk huffed. Leo hooked an arm around his side and pulled their bodies close. The breath left his lungs as he found himself gazing into the eyes that had once filled him with such hatred.
“Admit it,” Leo taunted. “You enjoy it when I come to the rescue.”
“As if the opportunity is frequently afforded to you,” Dusk shot back, resting his hands on the other man’s chest. The fact that they’d become lovers grated on the nerves of the higher ups in Aeon, but when you were tasked with mediating interspecies disputes in a clandestine manner, the HR forms became a bit more complicated.
“Well, I enjoy it,” he said, his lips twitching. “Helplessness suits you, rare as it is.”
Dusk rolled his eyes. “Spoken like an elf.”
Leopold pulled him in for a kiss and Dusk had every intention of putting up a show of resistance, but he found himself returning it. “Oh…”
“While I’ve got your attention, we have a mission,” Leo said smugly.
“A mission? There’s nothing on the docket until next week.”
“It’s a rather urgent matter,” said Leo. “It would seem that Eric has accused Aeon of being responsible for the theft of his Puppet.”
“That paranoid son of a bitch.”
Leo raised an eyebrow.
“Just because he’s right doesn’t mean he’s not paranoid,” said Dusk.
The elf chuckled. “We need to go address the board in an hour. I already had Harding fire up the portal, so get ready.”
“I can’t leave him,” Dusk protested, looking back at the sleeping chimera.
“He’s not going anywhere. Vox is more than capable of holding down the fort until he wakes up.”
Dusk sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
The Board Room was exactly as "pleasant" as Dusk remembered. He avoided it like the plague whenever possible. There were perks to being mated to the co-front of the Brotherhood. Leopold handled all the diplomatic hearings, save for those that took place in the realm of the fae.
He had been open about their relationship to a few close friends and family members for the last several years, but the Queen's tolerance came with the condition of secrecy.
Sometimes Dusk wondered if things would ever be different. If there would ever be a time when he could just be with the man he loved without worrying what anyone thought.
Then again, if anyone on the surface knew Leopold worked with Aeon, betraying his own kind,
they would have had much greater issues.
The Board Room was more of an open chamber with a circular design, flanked by tall columns that stretched all the way up to the painted ceiling. Figures of avenging angels warring with the artist's interpretation of vampires covered the interior of the dome with just enough light bleeding in through the crystal surface to give the painting an otherworldly glow.
The seven seats across the room were empty, but not for long. The five individuals who made up the Board were two men, an elf and a fae, a female gryphon shifter, a human noblewoman named Daliah, and the androgyne Registrix who was Aeon's founder. The Registrix was an elven-fae hybrid and as such, their life had been fraught with conflict. Though they appeared to be in their mid-thirties, Dusk knew they were much older than even Wysteria.
Dusk and Leopold bowed low before the five as they all took their seats. They were the representatives of a world divided, both above and below, and while their people did not always get along, the Board was devoted to ensuring that some form of balance was maintained on Teros. There was no doubt in Dusk's mind that they would see Arden as a threat to that balance.
"Prince Dusk. Lord Leopold," the Registrix said, looking down at the two men through round rimless spectacles. Their chin-length ice-blue locks gave a wintry appearance to their pale skin, and though the green eyes behind those glasses were not unkind, they were sharp with caution.
Percy, the shifter to their left, was not bothering to hide her displeasure with the recently summoned representatives of the Brotherhood. She was a tall, muscular woman with a tan complexion and deceptively harmless freckles dotting the bridge across her nose and cheeks. Her thick, wiry red hair was pulled back in a careless fashion and, much like her tensely coiled body, it seemed ready to burst from its confines.
Daliah, the human woman beside her, was far better at masking her feelings, but they showed in her dark hazel eyes. She was strikingly beautiful with high cheekbones, a lush flow of tight curls that spilled out around her soft arms, and a shimmering jade gown that complemented her dark complexion. Countess Daliah was among the last of the surviving human nobility, and what she lacked in the supernatural strength the other members of the Board possessed, she made up for in tactical shrewdness. It was a poorly kept secret that she and the male fae sitting next to the Registrix were lovers. Though he'd proven himself fierce in battle, Armand was not of sufficiently noble blood to be an acceptable consort for the Countess.
Puppet/Master (The Vale Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
