shaede assassin 05 - shadows at midnight (2 page)

“You should have told me what was up. I could have helped you.” Or at the very least, I could have tried.

In the distance, sinister laughter echoed. An orange glow of light sparked to life and I shielded my eyes from the sudden unwelcome brightness. An anxious shiver raced up my spine and I pressed myself tighter against the cold stone wall at my back as though it could somehow protect me from what came at me.

“Hold her.”

Large hands gripped both of my arms in an unyielding grip. I swallowed down the shout of surprise that threatened. I couldn’t see an inch in front of my face in the impenetrable darkness. I had no fucking idea who—or what—held me. I kicked, tried to tug my arms free. Whatever magic bound me held its power and my efforts were wasted.

Lorik’s face became illuminated as a bright torch was handed over to him. His usually cool-as-a-cucumber expression was replaced with something pinched and full of concern.  Fear scorched a path up my throat and I swallowed it down. I refused to let any of them see a single sign of fear from me. I refused to cower. No matter how badly I wanted to scream, to shout for help, I had to hold my own.

“Dagger.”

The smooth, feminine voice that spoke certainly exuded confidence. I bucked my chin in the air and clamped my jaw down tight. Whether they could see me or not, I’d hold my head high.

A whisper of contact brushed my right check and I started. “I can smell your fear,” she whispered in my ear. “And it’s delicious.” Well. That didn’t sound good. I swallowed down the lump that steadily grew in my throat and braced myself for whatever might come next. “Bring the light closer, Lorik.” When he didn’t immediately obey, her voice snapped out, “Now!”

Lorik snapped to and took several quick steps forward. One of the strange cuffs still encircled my wrist and the light glinted off the metal. I glanced at the large hand that gripped my forearm and held it out as though in offering and tried to follow it to an arm and possibly the face of at least one of my captors. But the darkness was too dense and the light barely illuminated more than a foot in circumference. I struggled to free myself once again but stilled the instant the very feminine hand holding the dagger slashed down to cut at my forearm.

“Son of a bitch!” The words shot from my mouth in a rush of pain. I looked down, and swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat as I assessed the damage and the large chunk of skin that had been cut away.

I swayed on my feet at the gruesome sounds of someone chewing. Jesus fucking Christ! My brain buzzed from the surge of adrenaline and fear that coursed through my body and the ground seemed to fall out from under me.

“Oh yes,” that cool, evil voice said after a long moment. “Your fear will nourish me well. The Rakshasa welcome you, Darian. It’s time to pay for your sins.”

A shout of pure anguish worked its way up my throat and I willed it to silence as Ty’s words from so long ago bounced around in my pain-addled brain
. I need you to know that I’m with you, even when I’m not.

Never before had I wanted Tyler’s words to be truer.

CHAPTER TWO

“I never loved you, Darian. Who could possibly love you?”

The words were a lie. I knew that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I squeezed my eyes shut, clapped my hands over my ears, but the voice persisted. Ty’s voice, as he continued to taunt me and throw my own fears and insecurities in my face.

“You’re a liar. Faithless. Worthless. A selfish bitch who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself.”

“Shut up!” My voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp. “Shut up, shut up,
shut up
!”

Cold from the ground seeped through my tattered pants, coaxing chills to my flesh. My fingers snagged on the tangled knots of my hair and my cheeks burned from too many tears shed. Every inch of me was raw and sore; quick healing didn’t mean shit when your torturer was a ghoulish demon.

I cracked a lid and let out a shuddering sigh of relief as the illusion of Tyler dissipated in a foggy cloud. The reprieve would be brief. Padma was a sadistic bitch and she never let me rest for more than a minute or two before she started in on me again. At least today’s punishment was mental and emotional. My body needed a fucking rest. That’s not to say that my mind was holding up any better. I’d begun to hit my breaking point sooner, succumbing to her illusions in minutes rather than hours.

I’d lost track of the days. All I knew was darkness. Darkness and pain that was meant to make me pay for an act I’d take back a thousand times over if it was in my power. I never should have killed Azriel.
Never
. But it was too damned late to do anything about it. Now I was being punished for taking Padma’s son away from her. The Rakshasa weren’t big on the whole innocent before proven guilty thing. There hadn’t been a trial. I hadn’t been given an opportunity to plead my case. There had been no outright proclamation of my guilt. I wasn’t given the opportunity to repent. Verdict: Guilty. Sentence: Torture by pain and mind fuck.

Awesome
.

One of the things that kept me afloat was the hourly vow I made to hunt Lorik to the ends of the earth and kill his traitorous ass. The other…circled my left thumb.

The ring wouldn’t come off. When Lorik brought me to Padma, the first thing she did after snacking on a strip of skin she’d cut from my arm was take my pendulum—the key to
O Anel
—and drape it round her neck. Then she tried to yank my ring off of my thumb. When it wouldn’t budge, she’d taken her dagger and tried to cut my thumb off. But the ring wouldn’t let her. As though it protected itself with an invisible force field, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t cut through it or my thumb. Oh, man it had pissed her off. She beat me for hours that first night. Padma is a cowardly piece of crap, too, because she tied me up so I couldn’t fight back.

Have I mentioned that I
hate
her?

Chill magic snaked around my wrist and up my arm, momentarily banishing my physical pain. The skin on my forearms was still pretty tender. I might have healed with supernatural speed, but when someone cuts strips from your flesh every other day, it’s going to take a while to heal, no matter what sort of leg up you might have. Rakshasa have a particularly unsavory diet: living flesh and blood.

From what I’d gathered, flesh and blood flavored with fear is like beluga caviar to the Rakshasa. Hence, the mental and emotional torture. It gives them strength, big mojo. And Padma was the biggest, baddest, strongest ghoul on the block.

“Darian, are you so weak that you can’t even save yourself?” The illusion of Tyler was gone, but Raif came to take his place. “I’d like to say that with practice and discipline you’ll get yourself out of this mess, but I think we both know that isn’t going to happen. You’re completely incompetent. How can you possibly protect my daughter when you can’t even protect yourself? You are a disgrace and I cannot fathom how I could ever call you friend.”

It’s not real. Not real. Not real
.

I twisted my ring, willing whatever force that protected it from harm to envelope me in the same invisible shield. My mind cleared and the illusion of Raif faded. I had no idea how to channel the ring’s power. At this point I was blindly stabbing and praying I hit something. I’d never disdained the secrets Tyler and I kept from each other more than I did now. If he’d only told me what
Nys’Asdar
was, what it did, I might not be here right now. Because wishing sure as hell wasn’t getting me anywhere. Either Tyler was still locked in a PNT jail cell and was unable to grant my wishes, or Padma’s power blocked our bond somehow. Either way, I was fucked.

When my mind fogged and the illusions became too much, I swore I’d do anything to get out of this place. But in moments of lucidity—like now—I prayed to whatever gods might listen that no one would come for me. I wasn’t just a prisoner serving a murder sentence, I was a bargaining chip. Bait. Padma was after a bigger fish than me. She was after the one who’d paid me.

I might’ve been the one who’d killed Azriel, but I hadn’t been the one to sign his death warrant. Xander had done that, taking Az out before he’d had the chance to overthrow Xander’s throne and take control of the Shaede kingdom. His move had been political and not emotional. Okay, maybe a little emotional. Xander had loved Azriel. For all intents and purposes, he’d been his son. And his betrayal had cut deep. If there was one thing I knew about the Shaede King, it was that he didn’t take betrayal lightly.

“Darian.”

No. No, no, no, no. no. My own thoughts conjured the illusion of my next torturer. I felt like Scrooge being visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past. These three were my weakness. I loved each of them in one way or another and my fear of letting any one of them down cut my soul to the quick.

“Darian, look at me.”

Unlike the illusions of Ty and Raif, Xander was always gentle. Seductive. Forgiving in a way that made me hate myself even more. “No.” I knew better than to let him in, to talk to something that wasn’t real, but I couldn’t help it. “Go the fuck away.”

 “Please come home, Darian. Where you belong.”

His golden eyes shone with tender emotion. Xander would never implore me to do anything. Xander expected obedience. “Your magic must be slipping, Padma. Because the Xander I know would never ask anyone to do anything.” My ring had to be blocking her to some extent. She used my own mind against me, violating the memories and emotions that were mine and mine alone.

Xander’s lips thinned, his eyes drawing down sharply over his eyes. “I killed your Jinn.”

My composure slipped another notch. Was that why my wishes weren’t being granted? Was it why I was still here, rotting in this hole? I pressed my fingertips to my temples and rested my forehead on my drawn-up knees. “You’re a liar,” I said through clenched teeth. “I know you’re lying.”

“I walked into his cell and Adare let me. His rage was palpable, but he was bound by Fae magic and impotent. I ran a dagger straight through his heart. I warned him not to come between me and what is mine.” I brought my head up. Xander’s hands were slick with blood. “You will never belong to any male save
me
.”

I pushed myself up from the floor, launching myself at his body. The illusion dissolved and I crashed to the cold, hard ground. “You fucking bitch!” My enraged shriek echoed through the system of caves for long seconds. “I’m going to run
my
dagger through
your
heart!”

Low, wicked laughter filtered toward me with all of the charm of a cartoon villain. Padma stepped from the shadows looking every bit as supermodel gorgeous as she had the day Lorik brought me here. She dressed like a queen, all regal silks and gold, jewelry adorning her neck and arms. My emerald pendulum dangled between her breasts and I swore I’d rip it from her before this was all said and done. The delicate gold hoop in her nose glinted in the low light as she graced me with a sinister smile.

“Azriel told me once that you had an unbreakable spirit. Of course, I didn’t believe him.” Az had certainly taken after his mother. They shared the same dark, fathomless eyes, flawless dark skin, and mesmerizing beauty that drew my gaze. They also shared similar dark hearts and cruel souls. “He loved you. Did you know that? And you rewarded him for his love by running your dagger through his chest.”

Her eyes flashed with venom as she drew her arm back and let it fly. The backhand connected with my jaw and echoed off the walls with a sickening pop. Blood trickled from the split in my lip and I flicked out with my tongue, lapping it away before I spat at Padma’s feet. “Azriel loved
himself
. And I didn’t kill him in cold blood. He struck first. I defended myself.”

“You killed him at Alexander’s behest,” the queen of ghouls seethed. “The two of you conspired against him.”

We’d been doing this song and dance for what felt like months. Torture, more torture, followed up with another healthy dose of torture, only to have her berate me afterward. As though beating this dead horse would bring her son back to her. “If anyone conspired, it was Azriel. He planned his coup, allied himself with Lyhtans to overthrow Xander’s throne. Would you be so eager to be deposed, Padma? Would you roll over for your enemy?”

“No enemy!” Padma shrieked. “Azriel was Alexander’s son!”

The issue of Az’s paternity was tricky. Padma had already been pregnant with him when Xander met her, so he wasn’t Xander’s son by birth. But Xander had made Padma a Shaede and thereby made Azriel one as well—though like me, they were both hybrids at the very least. So I suppose that made Azriel Xander’s son by magic. And Xander had raised him as his own which made him his son by choice. But Azriel betrayed him and if there was one thing I’d learned over the past few years, it was that a king could not afford to forgive his enemies, no matter who they might be.

“He was a prisoner in Xander’s custody. He might have been spared.”

Padma let out a derisive snort. “As though his watchdog of a brother would have permitted that to happen.”

It was true that Raif didn’t fuck around when it came to Xander’s safety, but he’d loved Azriel, too. “None of us will know what might have happened. Azriel sealed his own fate. I told you, he drew first. I did what I had to do to protect myself.”

Crack!
Another fist connected squarely with my face. For such a dainty—not to mention haughty—looking woman, Padma had no trouble packing a punch. “What is that ring on your thumb, Darian?”

Her voice was as smooth and sweet as freshly whipped cream. Xander had told me once that what Padma loved more than anything—even her own child—was power. “This?” I examined my thumb as though I’d forgotten I was still wearing it. “Just a ring.”

“Where did it come from?”

I could answer that question honestly. “I have no idea.”

She hit me again, harder, and I went reeling backward. “Give it to me.”

I spit again to clear my mouth of blood and looked her dead in the eye. “Not a fucking chance.”