Jewel of Darkness (11 page)

Chapter 5

“There was a time when I told myself that I only needed to be brave five minutes longer. I'm pretty sure that five minutes passed a long time ago, but the only other option was to curl up and start rocking and drooling down my chin. Since drool dribbling down my chin just didn't seem like a dignifying way to handle the situation, I've decided to extend the five minutes. A hero is no different than an ordinary man. He is just braver five minutes longer. I can do this.” ~Jewel Stone

T
he door to her room flew open, slamming into the stone wall with a thundering clap. Volcan strolled in the room looking entirely too much like the Joker from the Batman movie she'd watched with her mom last summer. His eyes were wild and his grin was much too big, as though a stick had been forced in between the creases of his lips holding them open in an unnatural expanse. The only thing missing was the white face paint and disheveled suit.

Jewel climbed off of the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. Volcan seemed to be already riled up, and she didn't think it would take much to aggravate him further. Her face still hurt like a brick had been dropped on it, and she wasn't really interested in a repeat beat down any time soon. She watched and waited as her captor paced her room. His mouth was moving as though he was speaking, but she couldn't hear anything he was saying. Finally, after several minutes he stopped, turned, and locked her in his crazed gaze.

I liked it better when he was a muttering, pacing, Joker look alike,
she thought to herself as she met his eyes.

“I hope you got sufficient sleep. We have a lot to do. Tons to do!” His voice rose as he spoke. “So much to learn!”

Jewel had to stop herself from asking him if he'd taken his medicine that morning because she was pretty sure that that would end up in her face hurting even more. But she was seriously beginning to wonder if Volcan wasn't taking some sort of drug, maybe some fae mushroom or something. His behavior was increasingly manic and he was growing more and more grandiose. She couldn't help but think of another ridiculous way he might die. Perhaps, his inflated ego would strangle him to death or cause his head to explode. She was probably putting too much hope in such bizarre ways for a person to die, but when faced with evil like Volcan, it was easy to hope for the bizarre.

“I’m ready to learn,” she said hoping she sounded convincingly enthusiastic. Really, what she was ready for was a way out of the hell she’d gotten herself into.
Suck it up, buttercup,
she told herself.
You wanted to save the day so now you have to pull up your boot straps and deal with it.

He motioned for her to follow him, and she was relieved that he didn’t feel the need to lead her by the hand again. His touch was like a million little maggots crawling all over her hand. It was definitely a sensation she could do without.

Once they reached the same room they’d been in the day before, Volcan headed for the table with all of the books stacked upon it. Apparently, Volcan had worked through the night because now the table contained many more books than it had the previous day, and they were teetering on the edge, threatening to fall to the floor. She followed and took the chair on the opposite side of the table. Staying out of arm’s reach seemed like the intelligent thing to do.

“I’ve been doing a little research of my own and found something that I think you might find interesting and, perhaps, even a little relieving considering your innocence.”

Jewel leaned forward just a bit, very interested if there were a possibility she wouldn’t be fighting off numerous would be bed partners.

Volcan opened a large leather bound book that looked to be very, very old and turned to a page he’d previously marked. His finger ran down the page and stopped when he’d found what he was looking for. “Ah,” he said. “Here it is. Witch magic” ― he began reading ― “is born from the blood of a powerful fae that has chosen to practice dark magic. The blood of the fae is infused into the female who is offering herself as a vessel for the magic. There are sacrifices that must be made once the blood has been transferred in order to activate the magic. If the fae is in a position to utilize a gypsy healer, the blood magic will be even more potent, producing stronger witches. There are two ways for a healer to be used. The first is for the healer to bear children after the fae blood has been introduced into her system. Any such children born will always be female and will have the magical power necessary to become both gypsy healers and witches. The second method of utilizing a gypsy healer is far less invasive. The healer, after having accepted the blood of the spell casting fae, need only infuse her own blood into another female. This latter method immediately produces fully mature witches. But the former produces a direct blood line of gypsy healer witches.”

Jewel’s breath had been sucked from her lungs as though a vacuum had been placed over her mouth and then turned on high. She knew that what he was saying meant that she didn’t have to be violated in one sense, but she was still going to be violated. Volcan was going to put his blood inside of her. He was going to take the very evil that ran through his veins and pump it into hers. How on earth would she be able to fight something that was a part of her? How would she stop herself from becoming just as dark and twisted as the man before her?

“I’d thought you’d be a little more excited than this,” Volcan’s voice pulled her from her desperate thoughts. “Of course, if you’d rather bear the children…”

“No,” she said a little too loudly. “This would be better because, like it says, the witches are fully mature. You wouldn’t have to wait for them to grow up, and you wouldn’t have to wait at least nine months in between each one.” And wasn’t that just peachy. She was basically offering herself up like an escort service with Volcan as her handler ― only instead of bringing money back to her pimp, she’d be bringing back witches.

“I’m glad to see that you are beginning to come on board with this. It will make the process much easier if I don’t have to beat you into submission.” He paused and his face became vacant as though he was no longer there in the room with her. A few minutes later he stood abruptly. “I was hoping to get more accomplished today, but it seems I have business that I must tend to that cannot wait.”

The door slammed shut as Volcan walked out, and Jewel stared at the thing that was standing between her and freedom. She had to get out. As much as she loathed the idea of birthing a child with a strange man, or even Volcan himself,
eeww,
at least then Volcan’s plan would come to fruition much slower. But what he’d shown her today was much worse ― maybe not for her personally ― but for the supernatural world, it could be catastrophic. Now she was facing the immediate conversion of who knows how many witches. Jewel couldn’t be the vessel that led to such a fate.

She walked in a slow circle around the room, her eyes roaming over the walls. It was a very old castle and she was thinking that maybe there might be some sort of secret passage way. Her knowledge on ancient history was pretty good, and she knew from her studies that, more often than not, castles had secret passageways built into them in various locations as a means for escape if under siege by invaders. They were also used for more nefarious things such as those not wanting to be seen going from one bedroom to another. Jewel ran her hands over the stone walls slowly attempting to feel any hidden latch or loose rock that gave way under a gentle push. After at least thirty minutes of searching, she’d yet to find anything.

Plopping down on the bed, she glared at the walls as if it were their fault that she was stuck behind them. There had to be some way to get out of the room. Her eyes once again landed on the door and her brow drew tightly together. “Surely not,” she mumbled as she rose from the bed and walked over to the door. Her hand shook a little as she reached out for the latch. She pressed her thumb down on the release, fully expecting nothing to happen. But she was wrong. The latch gave way and the door pulled open.

“Shut. Up,” Jewel said into the empty hall that stretched out before her. He’d left the door unlocked ― which obviously meant he was confident in his ability to keep her from escaping. Did that bother Jewel? No, because a possible fruitless chance was still better than no chance. It was a trap created by the captor that she had chosen.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she muttered under her breath a quote from an old fable about a boy who helped a snake because the snake had promised not to bite him. But, predictably, he bit the boy anyway. The boy was shocked and when he asked the snake why he did such a thing after having promised he wouldn’t, the snake answered with that quote:
You knew what I was when you picked me up.
And now Jewel was the boy who had trusted the snake. Her snake just happened to be an ancient, evil fae.

As she stepped out into the hall, she paused, waiting to see if some alarm would go off or if a net would suddenly fall on her and trap her. When nothing happened, she took another step, and then another. She glanced back over her shoulder after a few moments and noticed she was a good fifty feet from the doorway.
Guess we’re doing this,
she told herself as she turned and faced the dark corridor.

“H
ow much longer is your mate going to take?” Dillon asked Lucian as the three males stood on the dark street. They’d vacated the bloody mess and were standing next to the manhole that lead down to the den of vampires Dalton had just destroyed. Dillon figured it wouldn’t be long until someone decided three large men standing in a dark alley couldn’t possibly be up to anything good and called the human authorities.

“She apparently had to make a detour,” Lucian answered. “I’ve explained to her that it isn’t good for us to linger here much longer.”

Dillon gave him a curt nod of thanks and then turned to look at his Beta. He’d known Dalton for a very long time. For the majority of that time, he’d watched his Beta lock himself away from the rest of the world. It wasn’t until Dalton had laid eyes on Jewel Stone that something in him had changed. For the first time, Dillon saw life in his friend. But that brief glimpse was gone, and standing before him once again was a man held captive by his past and unable to allow himself to live. Before Jewel, Dillon was pretty sure Dalton was ready to succumb to the darkness growing inside of him. As Alpha, it would be Dillon’s job to destroy Dalton before he could hurt innocents. It had been a short lived relief that he wasn’t going to have to kill one of his closest friends. Now, the future wasn’t so certain. With no bond connecting Dalton to his true mate, he wasn’t sure how her death would affect his Beta. Normally a male would have to be killed if his mate died and the Blood Rites hadn’t been performed, but Dalton might be able to control himself since there was no connection. Dillon didn’t know which was more merciful: to put the wolf and man out of their misery or to leave them to live a life of solitude.

D
alton knew his Alpha wanted to ask him if he was okay, but he didn’t because Dillon already knew the answer to that. He was about as far from okay as a man could get. He stood with his back against one of the buildings that enclosed part of the alley, his arms folded in front of his chest with his head leaning back against the hard brick. The moon was bright and it called to him, wooing him with the promise of peace and rest. It was a lie. There would be no peace for him ― not without Jewel. Even though he didn’t feel a pull toward her, he still felt as though she belonged to him because he was
choosing
her. Bond be damned, he wanted Jewel Stone and yet he didn’t even know if she was still a part of the world. What if she wasn’t? What then? Would Dillon need to kill him? Would he rage the way a male who’d lost his unbonded mate would? Dalton felt his wolf stir. Yes, he would rage. He would rage and the world would burn down around him as he attempted to make others feel the loss he was enduring.

He squeezed his eyes closed tightly trying to recall the memory of her sweet face, her vibrant red hair, and her unique scent. She was the sun in a life that had been plagued with winter. She was the brightest star shining into the darkness that had eaten away at his soul. His Jewel, his little dove, with an olive branch offering him hope.

“How are you doing?” his Alpha’s voice chased away the brief glimpse he’d gotten in his mind’s eye and had his eyes flashing in irritation. Dalton didn’t want to speak. His wolf wanted nothing more than to shed the human skin and run, run and never stop.
We must find her,
his beast rumbled into his mind. Yes, he agreed, and they would. Dalton would never stop searching for her.