It looked like this was one of those times.
The door to our bathroom rattled. “Why is it always me who has to get you two out of shower?” Gabby’s annoyance slithered through the door.
“Go away,” Eli growled, his mouth running down my neck, nipping at my skin. “I thought you were patrolling anyway?”
“That was an hour ago.”
What? My head went back onto the tile, looking into Eli’s eyes. Had an hour really passed? To confirm Gabby’s claim, my skin felt the icy water running over us. When did the hot water run out?
“What the fuck do you want?” Eli’s movements slowed, but he continued to rock into me, hitting me so deep, my nails dug into his arms.
“To present you both with parents-of-the-year award, of course,” she said dryly. “Really, your parenting is stellar. Your kids are drunk and running amuck, scaring the kitchen staff.”
“They’re pixies!” Eli’s head fell into my neck, halting his movements. “What can they possibly get into that you can’t handle?”
“Those two?” I dropped my legs, touching back to the shower floor. “Everything. Okay, really, one of them can get into enough trouble for a dozen pixies.”
“We can put them up for adoption. It’s not too late.” Eli stepped back with a sigh.
“They’ll follow us. You know we can never get away,” I whispered glancing around with feigned nervousness, as though they could hear me.
“Maybe you can’t, but I could make a run for it.”
“You’d leave me by myself with them?”
“To be free of them? In a fuckin’ heartbeat, woman.” The side of his mouth hitched up and his hands pushed me back into the wall, his mouth finding mine. Neither Eli nor the pixies would ever admit it, but they loved each other. We were family. Warped as it was.
“Oh, for fuck sake!” Gabby hit the door again. “Seriously, you need to get to the kitchen.” Gabby’s footsteps dwindled away from the door.
“We finish this later, Brycin,” he growled in my ear. “I am nowhere near done with you.”
It took everything I had to leave the bathroom, get dressed, and head down the hall, already fearful of what I would find.
“Holy shit.” I stopped at the entrance, taking in the destroyed room. Eli stopped at my side as well. White flour, honey, juniper berries, and bits of pastries covered the walls, ceiling, and tables. The matter spilled onto the floor and dripped off the ceiling in globs. It looked as though a science experiment exploded in the room.
A handful of the kitchen staff, armed with brooms and mops, waved them in the air or at the tables, yelling. Others filed in to watch the spectacle.
“My lady! My lady!” Simmons darted from his hiding place in the timber, zooming for me. “I tried! I told Cal it wasn’t a good idea.”
“What the hell happened?” I caught Simmons as he tried to land on my shoulder, slipping off the other side.
“All idiots.” A squawk came from the window where Grimmel, the raven, sat. “Stupidity lives.”
“The raven is not entirely wrong, my lady…” Simmons didn’t have time to finish his thought before I saw a furry body zip across the table, a hand towel wrapped around his neck. “Ahhhhhh! Honey Hero!” He jumped from a table to a shelf, missing a swiping broom by inches. “Super Sprig! Honey! Honey! Honey! Ahhhhhh!” He jumped for a pendant light, swinging on the lamp. “Wheeeeee!” The towel flew behind him as he rode on it like a swing set.
“It’s a pixie.” Sprig pointed at the lamp next to him, giggling. “It’s a bird. No, it’s dah-dah-dah… supersprite!”
“Let ya wee bits freeeee, suuuper spit,” Cal called from another pendant light, his naked bum pressed into the translucent lampshade, his arms and legs spread open.
“Dingle my berries, they’re free.” Sprig cheered, swinging the lamp higher. “I don’t feel them. But they’re free.”
“Gooood on yer!” Cal cheered.
“What the fuck?” Ryker came up beside Eli and me, gazing at the state of the room.
“Viking! Viking! Viking! My weee bits are free!” Sprig leaped to the table, stumbling and tripping over the towel. “Super-Sprig-duper!” He hiccupped, falling over.
“Are you drunk?” Ryker’s eyebrows went up.
“Juniper nuts dingle.”
Ryker coughed out a laugh, the first hint of a smile I’d ever seen on his face. “Holy shit, you’re lagered.”
“Sorry, it looks as if my kid has been a bad influence on yours.” I winked at the large man.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “We have Croygen for that.”
“I liikee ya, monnkey mann.” Cal slurred from above, his arm going up in the air. “Youz cann hang wit me aaannytimme. Simmons iz no fuunn.”
“Hey!” Simmons put his hands on his hips, stamping his foot into my shoulder. “I’m fun!”
“Pffffttttttttt!” Cal snorted.
“Warrior’s nectar sweet we are.” Sprig fisted the air before he went face-first onto the table, snoring.
Some of the staff started clapping and cheering, as though this had been a play. Most of the women and men working in the kitchen smiled, but Bess, the lead chef, turned her severe temper on me.
“You!” She pointed a ladle at me. “I told you what I’d do the next time that pixie made a mess of my kitchen.”
“You know when I said I’d abandon you in a heartbeat?” Eli muttered next to me, backing away.
“Don’t you dare,” I growled at him.
“It’s been a nice ride, Brycin. Maybe our paths will cross again someday.” He took another step back as Bess barreled toward me.
“Coward!” I yelled as he slipped into the shadows with a smirk. Bess was scary; she was as wide as she was tall, with a sour face and stern expression. She whacked the ladle against her palm, as though I were some child about to be paddled for bad behavior.
“You got this, right?” Ryker moved back.
My hand clamped down on his. “No you don’t. I’m not facing the gargoyle by myself.”
“Damn, that was exactly what I was thinking she looked like.” He chuckled.
“You two!” She pointed at the mess and the two snoring troublemakers. “You get my kitchen sparkling clean, or I’m roasting you on the pit for dinner.”
“They have all the fun, and we get the punishment,” I grumbled, taking the mop she shoved at me.
“Fire should know better.” Grimmel tilted his head from the open window. “Surrounded by imbeciles.”
I flicked the mop at him, and he flew into the air. “You’d be good on that roasted pit as well, turkey.”
He squawked at my insult, flying into the room, and pooped all over the table before gliding out with what sounded like a guffaw. The cook shrieked at the fresh mess splattered over the fruit bowl.
“Could you stop pissing everyone off?” Ryker grabbed a bucket with a sigh. “Plus, that’s really my job.”
“Great. You and I are never getting out of detention then.”
Another slight smile hinted on his mouth. For a second I could see the man underneath, the one Zoey fell in love with. In many ways he wasn’t much different from a dweller. He showed his family his real self, but no one else.
I wasn’t sure if it was a good premonition or a bad one, but I sensed by the end of this journey we’d either become family or mortal enemies.
Chapter 15
Zoey
Firelight flickered off the walls and ceiling of the cave. Elongated and shadowy figures moved around or worked by the fire, constructing weapons. A mass of weapons. Far more than the amount of people here.
I pulled my legs to my chest, my backbone grinding into the stone. I tried to make myself as invisible as possible. Disappear into the corner of the cave.
Was it day or night? I didn’t know. Nor did I know how much time had passed since the stone brought me here. A couple of days, maybe? Enough time for me to figure out a few things.
I’d learned the stone didn’t hav
e endless energy, and it occasionally needed to rest, replenish its grip on us. Controlling both me and Lars took a toll, and it would release its hold on me for brief spells, let my consciousness surface. Sometimes I was semi-aware of what I had done and sometimes my memory was blank, as though the stone wanted to keep its plans a secret from me.
In brief moments, I would see the real Lars, his chartreuse eyes staring at me, as if he wanted to tell me something. Then the stone would shove him back again, silencing him, those empty black pits filling his pupils. Lars was strong and did not like being out of control. The man I knew would be constantly trying to find a way, a weakness in the stone.
Grunts sounded across the area as figures sharpened and welded weapons. The leader of them, the half-strighoul, half-seer called Zeke, walked around, overseeing their work. My “son.”
Even when I had seen them as children at DMG, I understood they should not exist. I had felt nothing for them. But watching them during the last couple days, a slice of doubt shivered down my throat. Zeke was the most unsettling. With his mouth closed, all I could see were my green eyes, brown hair, and heart-shaped face. Even some of his mannerisms were similar to mine. The way he adjusted and moved his body, constantly watching and ready for anything to come at him, was exactly like me.
It was more disturbing to see Sera’s annoyed expression flitter over a few of the dark-haired creatures’ faces. It frightened me that I was starting to feel sympathy for them. What Rapava did to them was not their fault any more than what he did to me was mine. I could have easily been one of them.
My eyes caught on one facing away from me, his long brown hair tied in a braid hanging down his bare back. He bent over, sharpening a scythe with long precise strokes. His spine protruded from his back, gray scales covering his torso. His arms and legs were so big he waddled when he moved, but his clawed feet and hands suggested that when he really needed to move, he went down on all fours like a Komodo dragon.
Feeling my gaze, he peered at me over his shoulder, his green irises piercing mine. With a snarl, he snapped back to his weapon.
They may have bowed to me, but I sensed they would rather kill me. Serious mother issues here. And Sera’s group had no allegiance to me. Their “mother” was dead, and I was a poor substitute.
The stone kept them in line, but I wondered how long before they either ignored its order or the stone let them tear me apart.
“Faster,” Zeke growled through his needled teeth, his pitchy, nasally voice reminding me what he was: a Frankenstein monster.
What did they need all these weapons for?
“I feel your curiosity.” A deep voice emerged from the darkness beside me, flames reflecting off the demon’s black eyes.
I jolted and rose to my feet as the stone strolled closer to me, feeling it slither around inside me. It never fully let me go, keeping my ability to jump just on the shelf above my head.
“Why so many weapons?” Lars’s boots hit mine. At first it was difficult to not see the King, to not associate the demon as the thing standing before me. This thing was not Lars.
Lars held himself with an elegant arrogance, with the confidence of a king. The stone didn’t understand how to be in a physical form. It was awkward and jerky in its movements, only playing the part of a man.
“Did the Dr. Rapava ever tell you how truly special these creatures are?” When I didn’t respond, it continued. “I am not even sure he realized what he created. They are unique and by far superior in strength, magic, and even intelligence to their blood relations.”
I counted about twenty of them.
“Do not let their number fool you,” the stone replied to my thought. “One of them can kill dozens of fae, humans, and even dwellers.” It poked its chin at the one I had been looking at. “You are right about that one. A Komodo dragon. And precisely like its ancestor, with one bite, one lick of its tongue, poison lodges into its victim, paralyzing them immediately. The death is extremely painful.”
I would remember not to get within licking distance of him.
“I’ve been planning this for a while, Zoey. Do you think I would not try to expand my army?” A crooked, eerie smile twisted its lips. “I did my own experiments, finding them exceptionally fertile... and you know how fast they mature. Too bad I couldn’t recreate the procedure like the doctor, but I worked with what I had. Even slightly watered down by human and fae women, they are still by far superior.”
Bile rolled in my stomach, forcing me swallow. “What are you talking about?”
“Let me show you.” The stone turned with an unnatural jerk and strode away. My body moved without my say. A dog on a leash. I trotted after the tall figure down a passage of the cave I didn’t even know was there.
My time “awake” had been limited to the main room, waking up on the ground or in the middle of an activity before the stone would sense me fighting for dominance, and clamp down, harnessing me.
Fight. Suddenly I heard Ryker’s yell at me in my head. Fight, human.
I was trying, but every time I did, it sucked a little more life from me. I had watched it do the same to Rapava, until there remained nothing left but the dust of his bones. The stone would make sure my death was even more painful. Now with each step, I felt like I was walking to my death, my stomach coiling with terror.
Torches lit the way along the long corridor, and I realized this part was man made. A military bunker. We walked for more than ten minutes when I heard distant cries and wails.
Women.
I shoved energy to my legs, digging my heels into the ground, my body pulled in two directions: the power of the stone and the needs of the women.
“You are only tiring yourself out, Zoey. Every time you fight me, you are only hurting yourself. Draining your own life.”
“What is down there?” My instincts knew, but sadly I still hoped I was wrong and that once again my nightmare wasn’t crawling up from the pits of blackness and wrapping around me.
You know, his voice came into my head.
“No.” My voice cracked. “Please…” I didn’t even know why I said “please.” I felt if I stopped now, I wouldn’t have to deal with what I knew was down there. It wasn’t like me to act on fear, but how could I fight this?
“You can’t, Zoey.” The stone tugged on my brain, forcing me back into the passenger seat as it compelled me to walk down the hall.
We passed a room and sounds registered into my head, but I spit them back out, not wanting to put images to those noises. Groans of women echoed through the door.
“Not all are against this. Some volunteered and even enjoy this immensely.” The stone nodded toward the closed door.
If it was possible to throw up internally, I did. My limbs held steady, but I trembled inside, or rather, so did the little girl inside me who fought so many devils. She huddled in the corner, begging not to be pulled back into the dark. I had fought so hard to heal her, to let her know peace. While Annabeth was dealing with what happened, I had to relive it. Not simply accept it, but really let myself heal and forgive. We leaned on each other through that time.
Now, that nearly closed wound was being ripped open.
“You’re raping women to build an army?” I seethed.
“Do those women sound as if they are being forced?” The stone stopped in front of another door, twisting the knob.
“What about the ones who didn’t volunteer, you vile piece of shit?”
“Do not upset me, Zoey. I can take so much more from you than merely your life.” I ached for my son then, for Ryker. I couldn’t do anything that would threaten their lives. He opened the door on a grocery-store-sized bunker room lined with beds. Hundreds of figures moved through the room, dressed in dirty rags, their bodies skin and bones, like victims of a refugee camp. All women. Human and fae. Some held babies, some were in various stages of pregnancy, a few chained to their metal cots. But most seemed docile, eyes glazed over.
Drugged.
Ohmygods
ohmygodsohmygods. Breath hiccupped in my chest as I took in the room.
No. Fuck. No.
The stone had created its own sex trafficking/birthing ring to produce more of Sera’s and my offspring. All of Rapava’s creations had been male. Of course, he had only thought about men for strength of war, not caring about breeding. He could do that in his facility. But the stone wanted an army of its own. The only way to do that was to have them reproduce.
“These children can’t grow in time…” I trailed off, watching a young brunette sob as a baby with razor-sharp teeth, identical to Zeke, breastfed from her, blood soaking her top. With every ounce of control I could gather, I twisted my head away.
“When they reach a month old, they are put into a nursery. After six months they are mature enough to train. These different babies grow up faster than any mortal children—a month is the same as a year to their development.”
It’s been five years since I walked away from DMG, when I thought they all had died.
“Some did,” he responded, reading my mind. “Not all those out there are first generation. Some are sons and daughters.”
“But?”
“The genes they carry are dominant, especially over the humans or lower fae, which is why they will look more like you than other seers and their fathers.”
This was a nightmare. Please say I am asleep and all this a dream.
“The humans don’t usually live, but a few like that one,” he nodded at the brunette, “are surprisingly strong. This is her third birth from Zeke.”
Sensing the stone was talking about her, she looked up, meeting my gaze. Behind the veneer of the drugs, I saw the depths of her hell. I knew that look. The feeling of utter despair. Retreating so far inside yourself you wanted to let your brain break and feel nothing anymore.
A door slammed on the other side of the room, making my gaze jerk away from her. A bald, tall, willowy frame stepped in, his back to me, but I could see his clothes hung off him like a hanger.
Rise From the Embers (Lightness Saga #4) Page 19
