Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (22 page)

Chapter 23

The mix of musk and black licorice filled Patrick’s nose as the familiar Cossack came down the hall. He didn’t have time to wait for his strength to return. Dahlia was close, he felt her in his bones. There wasn’t enough time to get clear of the castle but he refused to be sprawled out like a sacrifice when she arrived. Maybe Dahlia also needed reminding that he was just as big a monster as she was. He’d allowed her to do his dirty work for him. If he was going to fix things between them, Patrick knew he couldn’t permit that any longer.

The Cossack forced the door open slowly, flooding the dank, dark cell with light from the torch he held above his head. Patrick’s eyes adjusted quickly. The man entered and he watched the Cossack from under hooded lids, hiding his determination, his force of will, and his hunger for the man’s blood. The Cossack held his sword in his hand, his knuckles white from the tightness of his grip. He slid the torch into a sconce on the wall and pressed his fist against his thigh. The Cossack’s heart thundered in his chest, filling Patrick’s ears with its delicious, steady rhythm. The sweet scent of fear filled the cell and Patrick’s nostrils, making his mouth water. He was so hungry. Having not eaten in what felt like weeks, not since Iris, Patrick would have eaten anyone. The luscious scent of the man’s fear forced all other thoughts from Patrick’s mind as the blood hunger took over.

Patrick dangled from the manacles securing him to the wall. Silver spikes still lodged in his back, Patrick had almost grown accustomed to the pain as it burned his insides. It had become a constant biting anguish that he could and had suffered through but blood would fix
everything
.

The Cossack stepped up to him. The scent of the man as he approached and the steady thump of his blood in his veins made Patrick almost giddy.

“Likho wants to see you,” the Cossack said with a flutter in his thick accent. He clutched a silver skeleton key in his other hand and reached down to unlatch the manacles at Patrick’s ankles. The Cossack peeled the silver back from Patrick’s body where it had burned into his skin, drawing tendrils of gooey strings of flesh. Cold air from the open cell door wrapped around his wounds, stinging him, making him ache almost as much as the silver had burned him.

Patrick hissed in a painful breath. The cold air rushed over his teeth, tingling across his throbbing fangs. As the manacle was peeled from Patrick’s left wrist, his arm fell to his side, limp and sore. Then the right wrist. Patrick slumped into the Cossack’s grip, slipping slowly and painfully, off the silver spikes that had made his insides feel like molten lava, boiled and melted.

The larger man wrapped his arms around Patrick, trying to catch his fall and support his weight as Patrick fell forward. The Cossack applied pressure to Patrick’s already wounded skin as he caught him.

Patrick’s body stiffened as pain shot through him anew. Burying his nose in the heavy wool at the Cossack’s collar, he hissed in a heavy, shaking breath. The scent of blood, fear, and salvation made him salivate and before the Cossack could jerk away, Patrick sank his fangs deep into the man’s neck.

Blood flooded Patrick’s mouth, warm, thick, and delicious. It seemed like an age since he’d last eaten as the thick, viscous fluid coated his tongue and throat. His muscles strengthened and his pain lessened as he slurped down each sweet drop. His wounds wouldn’t heal completely from a single feeding but they’d begun to mend. His energy spiked, soaring as the Cossack’s hold around him slackened.

Patrick fed at him greedily, slurping him down as quick as the man’s heart would pump. The Cossack slumped against Patrick and soon he was holding the Cossack instead of the other way around. The man’s heart thumped in his throat erratic and fleeting. Patrick knew it was slowing. He should stop but the feel of the man’s warm blood on his tongue called to him, made his limbs quiver with the anticipation of the kill. It had been such a long time since he’d killed this way. Such a long time to not have the power of life and death in his hands.

He glanced up at the open door as light streamed in. His freedom was only inches away as he dallied with the Cossack.

Patrick’s gut clenched. He didn’t have time to waste. Dahlia was already too close to this monster’s castle.

Reluctantly, Patrick withdrew his fangs, licking his lips and the last drops of blood lingering there. He released the Cossack and the man fell in a crumpled heap of weakened unconsciousness to the floor, and a pleased smile tugged at the corner of Patrick’s full lips. He’d be out of this castle and hopefully on his way home with Dahlia in tow long before the sun rose.

Stepping over the Cossack and out of the cell, Patrick knew he wasn’t going anywhere. The dungeon hall was filled with Cossacks, ten deep on either side. Each wielded a blade he was sure was made of silver.

“Gentleman,” Patrick bit out.

The Cossack on Patrick’s right grumbled something he didn’t understand. Patrick did, however, understand the sword blade poking at his side. He tugged at the bottom of his torn shirt, adjusting it as if he was dressed in a complete suit instead of tatters and said, “Lead the way.”

Chapter 24

We’d trekked through the forest for most of the day and my feet ached with each step over uneven terrain. The path seemed to grow longer as we trudged on and the gleaming white castle in the distance grew farther away until I was ready to give up, lie down, and take a nap. I was so damned tired, I wasn’t sure I could take another step.

“You want me to carry you?” Dean asked. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

I shot a dirty look his way and squared my shoulders. “I don’t need you to carry me.”

“Sure?”

“Yes,” I hissed, storming by him and ignoring the pain shooting up my heels and into my ankles. “Asshole,” I muttered as I realized that had been his intent. He chuckled softly behind me. I ignored him and kept moving.

When we finally reached the edge of the thick linden forest and had the castle in sight, we couldn’t get to it, especially in the daylight. I sank down to the ground, exhausted, hungry, and cranky as hell.

Overly large unless you were a fairy princess waiting for your prince to come, the castle stood like a sentry against the mountains towering behind it.

The walls were white, I mean pristine white, like the thing was freshly painted every day. Dark, stained-glass windows littered the entire structure, shaded in oppressive colors—red, gray, and black. No light illuminated the windows from behind as if the entire interior of the castle was shrouded in darkness and was immune to the sunlight reflecting off the pale white stone. At the thought of Patrick inside that horrible place, anger bubbled up inside me, shoving all my exhaustion away. Anger was a good motivator. Not that Patrick was a sunshine and lollipops kind of guy, but, shit, the castle gave me the creeps.

The structure sat atop a hill set apart from the rest of the forest. Snowcapped mountains sat as the backdrop on three sides, encasing the pristine white castle in harsh rock and stone. A dark bottomless moat surrounded the castle. The water was two car lengths wide and rushing as if it was a river flowing down the mountainside. Thick forest completed the enclosure, nestling against the castle from across the moat. The place seemed almost surreal and oddly out of place from the wasteland we’d trudged through for the past day.

Turrets, four at each corner and more on the inside walls, reached into the clouds. At the top of each turret was a guard post, unfortunately with a guard; some had two. Around the base of the castle on the other side of the moat, men in traditional Cossack gear made regular rounds. Two at a time, every five minutes or so. Maybe Likho was worried about more than just me.

“We can’t storm the castle as it were, until nightfall. I suggest we take this time to rest and regain our strength,” Saeran crouched down a few feet away.

“It’s a good idea,” Dean said, kneeling before me and catching my gaze. I read the pleading in his expression and knew they were both right. Even if we stormed the castle now, as Saeran had put it, we couldn’t leave. Not in broad daylight with Patrick. We had to wait until nightfall.

We rested and ate as the day slid by to twilight without a word spoken between us. I had an uneasy feeling pressing at the back of my skull, a pain I couldn’t identify twisting my chest into knots. Baba Yaga’s magic was still strong in the forest, and I still felt her in my bones, a venom catching hold. She’d latched on to me with both hands and I didn’t think she was going to let go. I wasn’t sure why but I wanted her gone and far, far away from everyone I loved.

The sun was just starting its decent behind the mountaintops, and I itched for action. But Dean wanted to wait for full dark. It was a good plan, the right plan but I was anxious. The longer we sat outside that stupid castle and its magic crept over me like a thousand spiders, I wanted Patrick out of there. Tired of this place and its wild, unpredictable magic, I wanted to go home.

I sat with my back against a large, rough-bark tree, shielded from the light from above. Seeming to blare brighter in twilight than at midday, the sun radiated off the white stone as if it kept us lingering on the outside looking in on purpose. Knowing that we wanted to bring a vampire out into the open, Baba Yaga was doing everything she could to make it as difficult as possible.

Dean crouched down in front of me and held an MRE out. It looked like wet dog food but smelled like Salisbury steak.

“Eat,” he ordered.

He’d made me sleep, too, even if it was only for an hour. I’d tried to make him sleep but he’d said he could go on less. I took the pouch from him and stuck the spork into the goo.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing his hand down my jaw.

My body tingled at his soft caress and a familiar ache deep in my body tightened. The Eithina in me wanted him. The Fertiri, however, wanted
both
of them back, and I let her take over instead, shoving the Eithina’s more primal needs back down.

“Yeah.” I glanced up at the sparkling white turrets of the castle looming over us.

“Not long now,” Dean said, following my gaze over his shoulder to the castle behind him.

“I feel . . . I don’t know, drained somehow,” I said, swishing the Salisbury steak liquid around, not really eating it. Patrick was churning in my gut. I’d flung open my shields, hoping to get some sense of him. The link he and I shared was making me nauseous, anxious, and more tired than I already was. He was weak, hungry, but determined. His determination at least, made me feel better, knowing he was still alive and hadn’t given up. Then again, this was Patrick. He didn’t give up. He out-strategized, out-thought, and out-charmed everyone one else but Patrick didn’t give up. It wasn’t in his nature.

“Are you good for this?” Dean asked.

The idea of him doubting me wrangled. I’d stand on my own two feet if it killed me.

“I am,” I snorted with a curt nod. “And stop asking me.”

He sighed, and I knew resignation when I heard it. The castle loomed over us as the sun finally fell behind the mountain peaks. The last light of the setting sun in Faerie glittered off the moat surrounding the castle, giving everything an eerie aquamarine glow.

The moat was wide and filled with murky waters swishing and swirling with something unseen in its depths. Swimming across was not an option. No way in hell was I dipping one fucking toe into that murky water.

“Is there a plan?” I asked, my voice low so only Dean would hear.

Saeran rested against a tree about ten yards away. I left him as he was for a couple of extra moments of privacy with Dean.

“Saeran said he can build a bridge,” Dean said, glancing down the line of trees to Saeran’s still form.

“You trust him?” I didn’t, not yet anyway.

“Enough to get us across the moat,” he answered.

“Not enough to sleep though,” I replied.

Dean turned to me with a soft growl vibrating his full lips.

“He’s not Pack,” he snarled.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I answered, sarcasm slipping into my voice. “But I am, and you need sleep.” I couldn’t keep the angry accusation from my tone.

Blue melted from his irises, swirling into the soft olive-green that warmed places low in my body. Plopping down on the ground beside me, he slid his arm around my shoulders and hugged me too him. He pressed me against the hard-muscled planes of his body and held me close.

“Baby, I couldn’t sleep,” he whispered against my hair, his breath warm and soft as it brushed against my ear.

“Why? You need rest too.”

“Something’s watching me,” he whispered so his voice wouldn’t travel. So Saeran wouldn’t hear him.

“What’s watching you?” I asked, burrowing deep into his embrace. In just a little while, full dark would settle over us and the bloodshed would begin. I reveled in the short time we had together as I snuggled up to him.

“Dunno, but my skin’s been crawling since we crossed over. I can feel eyes on me.”

“I want this over with,” I said, glancing over at Saeran.

“When we’re home, I’ll sleep. You won’t be able to wake me for days, I promise,” he said. A small grin turned up at the corner of his lips, curling my toes with delight. Images of us snuggled together in that very large bed, under mounds of covers seemed very, very appealing.

The sun set behind the mountain and in the blink of an eye the forest was cast in pitch-black darkness as if a veil had dropped.

“I’ll hold you to that,” I mumbled, my attention focused on the castle.

Dean stood and helped me to my feet, enclosing my cold hand in his.

“Saeran,” Dean snapped.

Saeran opened his eyes with little fanfare and hopped to his feet, light and nimble.

Dean squeezed my hand and said, “Let the monster out, baby. It’s time.”

I should’ve been offended but I’d spent the last six months coming to terms with my monster. Dean didn’t seem to have a problem with her and neither did Patrick. The monster was the woman he’d fallen in love with in the beginning.

I stilled my insides, centering my being until the peace and quiet of the kill fell over me. My entire body calmed as the void of death became my center, showing the world the cold killer I was. My mind was clear and my senses heightened. I breathed deep, releasing all the unease of where we were and my fear for Patrick.

Kill them all
, she whispered through my mind, a welcome reminder of who and what I was. The Eithina in me didn’t like people fucking with her Pack. And as Fertiri, I’d exact her revenge with pleasure. Turning my gaze up to Dean, I knew my glare was cold and empty.

“There she is,” he said. “We’re ready,” Dean called over my head.

I drew the Smith and Wesson from my shoulder holster and clutched it in my hand. Dean dropped our packs, pulling the Ewan blade free and handing it to me. I traded the knife strapped to my leg and slipped the diamond blade between the sheath and the hard muscle of my thigh.

Dean handed over his Smith and Wesson. He didn’t plan on using it. I slid it into the back of my BDU pants and stepped up next to him. Saeran flanked me as we faced the porcelain white palace of horrors.

“Here we go,” I said.

“Aye!” Saeran whispered, gazing down at me. His daffodil-yellow eyes swirled as his shoulders tightened and magic rose up around him. Stepping to the edge of the murky moat, he raised his hands, palms up, and tilted his head back.

The night’s sky was barren of stars and loomed over us, oppressive and threatening. The darkness had weight, growing thick around us. Saeran’s magic whipped around me and every hair on my body stood on end.

Dark magic tickled across my skin, firing the blood inside me as it overshadowed the wild magic collecting from Saeran’s power. The sudden realization that Baba Yaga wasn’t banished here like the rest of the dark fae overwhelmed me.

Baba Yaga
was
the Outer Realm. And we were fucked.

I gripped the Smith and Wesson tighter as the ground moved beneath my feet, shifting and tearing. Vines sprouted from the now loose dirt, winding up and around Saeran like the snakes we’d left back in the mountain. Too many vines to count, they tangled, and weaved themselves together in an intricate pattern that was both beautiful and terrifying.

Stretching, the plants grew across the moat and formed a long, wide bridge that appeared strong enough to drive a car across. Wildflowers lined the edges of the moat as the vines reached the other side. Sinking into the ground, the vines completed the arch across the water and the vegetation settled into place, solidifying into a firm structure.

“I’m just glad we didn’t have to jump,” Dean grumbled against my ear.

“I couldn’t jump that,” I said.

“I’d’ve tossed you.”

“Are you both ready?” Saeran huffed over his shoulder, his brow drenched with sweat and his chest heaved as he panted from the effort.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Dean followed Saeran with me taking up the rear. We hustled across the vegetation bridge, crouching low to keep out of sight of the guard posts stationed on the turrets above. We only had a couple of minutes before the next patrol came around the corner. It wasn’t like they were going to miss the gigantic bridge across the moat. Once they came around the corner, Likho would know we were here.

“Was that too easy?” I whispered, knowing Dean would hear me.

“We’re not inside yet.”

“Right.”

Single file, we stalked around the perimeter of the castle. Flat against the smooth walls of the stone towering more than a hundred feet above our heads, we searched for a way inside.

“There,” Saeran whispered, pointing to a narrow opening at the far corner of the castle.

“Tick tock, fellas,” I whispered, knowing that any minute two guards would round that corner and all hell would break loose.

Saeran picked up his pace, jogging to the crack in the pristine façade. A tall oak door, painted the same white as the rest of the castle stood between us and getting inside. Saeran tried the door, tugging on the chain but it wouldn’t budge.

“Hurry.”

“Locked,” he hissed.

“Well, I didn’t think we could walk right in,” I answered. The clock kept ticking down in my head as he yanked on the door and Saeran was messing around with this stupid door. “This isn’t working,” I almost barked.

“There has to be a key,” Saeran said, still fumbling with the door. The hard stomps of feet thundered in the distance, and my heart thundered in my ears. Hopping to the far side of Saeran and pressing my back against the stone, I hovered at the corner.

“Time’s up,” I said, drawing Gladi from the scabbard down my back. Slow, and careful not to make a sound, I arched the sword over my head. The guards were close, close enough to hear the thundering of my heart. Loosening my grip on the sword, magic flared through Gladi to me and filled my center with her energy. Although drinking well from the dragon’s death, Gladi seemed hungry for more. As the two guards rounded the castle’s corner, I raised the sword and swung.