Storm Born (10 page)

“Volusian—my servant—told me you two don’t get along.”

“He’s right. Aeson is one of our strongest leaders, but I don’t like the way he rules or deals with his so-called allies. Yet, that doesn’t mean I can walk over there with you and openly oppose him.”

“But you said earlier—”

“That I would help. I still will. I’m just not going to do so in person.”

Whatever kindly feelings I’d been building toward him disappeared. My voice turned icy. “Okay, so what are you going to do?”

“I have a servant here who used to be one of Aeson’s men. I’ll send him with you as a guide.”

“What good is that? My spirits already know the way.”

“They don’t know the back ways. My servant knows the place intimately. He is far more likely to get you in unseen. I don’t know much about human tactics, but I imagine even in your world, subtle and stealthy is safer than marching in openly. Especially when you’re outnumbered.”

I slouched back in the chair. “I suppose.”

“Now you’re pouting,” he teased.

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t mind. It’s charming.”

“No, it’s not.”

He touched my chin to turn my face toward his. “It is. But it’s still unwarranted. Would you have helped me even a little if I’d come to you in a similar way?”

“No.” I didn’t even try to make a pretense otherwise.

He withdrew his hand, still smiling. “We are all honest tonight. Well, then. I suppose I should introduce you to Gawyn.”

“Wait,” I said. I stood up uncertainly. All of this honesty talk had put me in mind of Kiyo. So had the sex talk. Okay, everything made me think about Kiyo lately.

“You have another question?”

I studied Dorian carefully. He was one of the gentry, but something about this brief encounter made him…well, if not exactly trustworthy, then less untrustworthy. And really, he was the closest thing I might have to a true gentry resource.

“Yes. I do.”

I took off my jacket and then turned around, facing away from him. I wore no backless tank top today and had to completely pull off the long-sleeved shirt I had on. After a moment’s consideration, I took off my bra too.

“Oh,” said Dorian. “I think I’m going to like this question.”

I wrapped my arms around my breasts, still keeping my back to him. “Do you see the scratches?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what they are? I think something Otherworldly made them.”

I heard him stand up and approach me. Moments later, his fingertips lightly grazed the marks, following their tracks. His touch was slow and considering, one that truly sought to feel me. It shouldn’t have been erotic—for a lot of reasons—but it was anyway. His fingers trailed all the way down the scratches and then back up.

“I can’t tell you what made them,” he said at last, “but I can tell you they were magically inflicted. If I had to guess…I’d say you’ve been marked.”

“Marked how?”

“I think whoever—or whatever—made these did so to track you. As long as these are on you, the maker can find you.”

I shivered, and it had nothing to do with being topless or the fact that his fingers were still on me. “Can you get rid of them?”

“No. They might eventually go away on their own, but I can’t tell you when. Who made them?”

I hesitated. “A man.”

Dorian spread his fingers out so that his palms were facedown on my back. “I’d be hard-pressed to scratch you like that standing here. I’d need to have my arms around you.”

I didn’t answer.

I could feel his soft laughter against my skin, and somehow, he now stood closer. “Why, Eugenie Markham, slayer of gentry, what have you done?”

“I don’t know.”

He ran his hands down my back until they rested on my hips. “And that’s killing you, isn’t it? That you might have let something you despise touch you like that. Did you enjoy it?”

“None of your business. And you’re standing too close.” I turned around, still wrapping my arms around me as I stepped away. “The inspection’s over.”

“If you wish. I’m not sure you really want it to be over.”

“I don’t do…” I stopped.

“Gentry?” He stepped forward again, resting his hands on my arms, holding more tightly than he needed to—not that he needed to be touching me at all anymore. I should have decked him, but I didn’t. He had considerable height on me but had to lean down to close the distance between our faces. He smelled like cinnamon. “You know, in spite of your deadly reputation, any man in this keep would bring you the world to be your lover. Come to my bed tonight, and I’ll take you to Aeson myself. I’ll fight by your side.”

I stared up at him, half tempted. I needed the help. And he wasn’t too hard on the eyes. But I couldn’t do it, no matter how reasonable he’d seemed tonight. I had gone to Kiyo unwittingly. I couldn’t have sex with another of the gentry, knowing exactly what he was. That instinct wouldn’t budge.

“No. You have plenty of women out there,” I said lightly. “You don’t need me.”

“None of them will conceive like you. Your body promises many children.”

“Not likely. I’m on the pill.”

“The what?”

I explained it to him, and while he didn’t back away from me, his eyes looked like he wanted to. He sighed. “I don’t understand humans. You’re gifted with fecundity, yet you stifle it.”

“The world’s overpopulated. And I’m not ready for a baby.”

“I don’t understand humans,” he repeated.

“And here I thought we’d made such progress. I guess you can let go of me now.”

“My offer still stands.”

I felt my eyebrows rise. “Even with no chance of pregnancy?”

“Don’t discount your many charms. I’d still sleep with you for other reasons.”

“Like what? I mean, aside from the fact you’d probably sleep with anything female.”

He looked down at me and then back up to my face, giving me the feeling I wasn’t covering my breasts very well. “I won’t bother with the obvious things,” he said. “Honestly the main reason…well, in one night, I think I
might
have convinced you that not all gentry are monsters.
Might.
You still have a long way to go. But you’ve already been intimate with one—or something else from this world—and you can’t stop thinking about it. And not because you hated it. You’ll mix that with what you’ve seen tonight, and then you really won’t know what to think.

“I want to make love to you while that indecision still torments you, while you’re still not sure if I’m a god or a monster or simply a human like you. I want to be with you in that ultimate moment of vulnerability, when your desire wars with your instincts and every touch of my body triggers both fear and pleasure in you.”

“Fear? Are you threatening to rape me like every other gentry lately?”

“No. I told you, I don’t take women by force. But it doesn’t matter. You’ll come to me by choice.”

“Not likely.”

“Oh, very likely. Your own nature is conflicted, Eugenie. You’re attracted to things you know you shouldn’t be, even if you don’t realize it consciously. You like playing with danger—it arouses you. That’s why you fight the creatures of this world so aggressively. That’s why you’ve come for this girl—despite how foolhardy you know it is. And that’s why you’ll return to me. You won’t be able to help yourself. You want to walk that line, put yourself at risk, see how far you can let yourself go. You protect yourself so fiercely from the things you fear that the thought of letting down your defenses and submitting excites you. Now, you won’t let someone you hate—like Rurik—touch you, but me? You don’t hate me. Not quite. I’m the perfect mix. The perfect way—the safe way—to give in to what you want.”

“You’re crazy.” I broke away, pushing with my hands, not caring if he saw my chest or not. “And you get off on some pretty crazy shit.”

“No crazier than your own desires.”

“You’re wrong. Besides, if I were going to fuck one of you, it wouldn’t be one who harbors plans to take over my world.”

He shrugged, watching me put my clothes back on. “If you say so. Do you still want my earlier offer of help?”

I hesitated. His little sexual tirade had unnerved me—only I couldn’t exactly articulate why. I still needed his help, regardless of my mixed feelings about him. That was becoming increasingly clear.

“Yeah, I’ll still take your servant.”

“Then let’s introduce you.”

By my count, we’d spent a little over two hours at Dorian’s and almost an hour getting there. That did not please me. At this rate, we might not get home until dawn in our world. If we made it home.

Dorian’s servant, Gawyn, looked like he was about a hundred years old. No, wait. Actually, that’d be pretty young for one of the gentry. Okay. He looked about a millennium old. I don’t know. He was just old, plain and simple. His gray hair fell almost to his ankles, and as soon as I saw him hobble forward, I suddenly envisioned us taking another three hours to get to Aeson’s, despite how close Dorian and the spirits claimed it was.

“He’s ancient,” I whispered to Dorian. “And he seems kind of…out of it.”

Gawyn was currently telling Wil what lovely legs he had, despite the fact that Wil had none in spirit form. I wasn’t entirely sure if Gawyn even realized Wil was male.

“His mind will be razor sharp when it comes to Aeson’s castle. As for speed, I’ll give you horses. You look like you could ride a number of things exceptionally well.”

I ignored the innuendo, mostly thinking how it’d been years since I’d been on a horse—not counting my earlier capture. Horses had never done much for me. I didn’t get why little girls wanted ponies. If I did more riding tonight, I’d likely be sore as hell tomorrow.

Once my weapons were returned, we set out. Dorian waved us off, telling me he’d be looking forward to my next visit. I stayed professional, simply thanking him for his help. I think this delighted him more than any other reaction could have.

The horses did give us more speed than walking and were the best I could have hoped for in a world without mechanical transportation. The horse I rode was midnight black with a small white star on its nose. Gawyn’s appeared to be a palomino. The spirits and Wil merely drifted in our wakes.

In the darkness, I could just barely see Gawyn glancing over at me. “So you’re Eugenie Markham. The Dark Swan.”

“So they say.”

“I met your father once.”

“Oh?” I didn’t bother making the father-stepfather clarification.

“Great man.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. I know some don’t think so…but, well, you should be proud.”

“Thank you. I am.”

Gawyn said no more, and I pondered his words, feeling kind of surprised. Considering what Dorian had told me, I hadn’t expected Roland to have fans in the Otherworld. Then again, Dorian had also said that some—what was her name? Maiwenn?—had opposed Storm King. They might very well view Roland as a hero.

We traveled in relative silence after that, broken occasionally when Finn would happily spout about what a great party Dorian had had. Like before, we crossed in and out of the various kingdoms and their climatic changes. I still felt like we traveled in circles. More than once, Gawyn called us to a halt, scratched his head, and mumbled to himself. I didn’t find that reassuring. At one point, he led us off the trail and into a forest, and I hoped one of my minions would speak up if we’d gotten completely lost. Everything was tropically warm and flourishing here, so presumably we rode in the Alder Land again. Gawyn came to a stop.

“Here,” he said.

I looked around. Night insects sang in the trees around us, and the smell of dirt, fresh growth, and decaying plants permeated the air. It had been dark before, but now the canopy of leaves blocked out even starlight. Gawyn climbed off his horse, nearly falling into a heap on the ground. I started to get down and help him, but he soon righted himself. He walked a few paces forward and then slammed his foot against the ground. A hard, solid sound answered back.

I dismounted as well. “What is that?”

Volusian, back in a legged form, walked over. “A door of sorts. Built into the ground.”

“Yes,” said Gawyn triumphantly. “Built for sieges. But never used anymore.”

“Does it lead into Aeson’s fortress thing?” I asked.

“To the cellar. Stairs from the cellar lead up to the kitchen. From the kitchen, you take the servants’ stairs—”

“Whoa, hang on.”

I wanted to make sure I had it all. Volusian created blue flame to cast light, and we drew a map in a clear spot of dirt based on Gawyn’s recollections. I might have doubted his memories, but he spoke with certainty, and he had managed to lead us to this obscure place. Maybe Dorian had been right in the “razor sharp” assessment. When Gawyn felt we had the directions to the residential wing memorized, he told us he wouldn’t join us. He would wait here to tell Dorian what became of us. That was fine by me. I didn’t really regard Gawyn as a battle asset—or Wil, for that matter. Unlike the old man, however, the ghostly conspiracy theorist didn’t take being left behind so well.

“But I told you, I need to reassure her—”

“No,” I said firmly. “I let you come this far, and you almost ruined things with those riders. Now you wait. If Jasmine’s scared, she’ll hold on a few more minutes until we bring her out to you.”

I worried I’d have to bind him—I could actually do it since he was here in spirit, not in body—but it didn’t come to that. He conceded, so I entered the trapdoor with just my minions in tow.

“Truly,” remarked Nandi as we entered a darkened tunnel, “it is amazing that you have not died yet, mistress.”

“Well, hang in there. The night is young.”

Volusian provided light again, and we let it guide us along a stone-encased tunnel that smelled damp. Rats ran by at one point. Finn had been right. Apparently the Otherworld did have its share of animals and vermin.

When the tunnel sloped upward, I knew we had reached the end. A wooden door in the ceiling marked our next gateway. I asked the spirits to go into an insubstantial form. Hitherto, they’d walked along looking very human. I needed them obscured now. Compliant, all three shifted to what looked like a fine mist surrounding me.

I pushed open the door and climbed out, finding myself in a small enclosed space. The mist that was Volusian glowed once more, and I made out the shapes of bags and boxes. If Gawyn was right about this attaching to the kitchen, then those containers probably contained food or other supplies. Twenty feet in front of me, a doorway was outlined in light shining through from the other side. I walked up about ten steps and gingerly opened the door.

I now stood in a kitchen, a very rustic one compared to my own, but completely on par with what I’d seen at Dorian’s place. All was quiet.

“Where is everyone?” I murmured.

“It’s late now,” Finn whispered back. “No one’s hungry. And Aeson’s not into the party scene as much as Dorian.”

We found the servants’ stairwell exactly where Gawyn had said it would be. Unfortunately, when I opened the door, I found a servant there, just coming down. We stared at each other stupidly, and I had only a heartbeat to decide how to handle him. I wielded both gun and athame. In another state of mind, I probably would have just killed him. But something held me back. Maybe it was Dorian. Maybe it was seeing his people and having to acknowledge they were more than just a faceless mob. Whatever it was, I chose not to kill this time. I reached out, grabbed the guy, and gave him a hard jolt to the head with my fist and the butt of my gun. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor.

Once he had been safely deposited in the cellar, we continued on our way. We encountered no one else on the stairs, nor in the magnificent hallway it led us to. Enormous stone pillars supported the high ceiling, and rich oil paintings of various landscapes turned the walls into seas of living color. We had reached the residential wing, just as Gawyn had said. If my other intelligence was correct, we’d find Jasmine Delaney behind one of the many doors lining the hall.

Fortunately, housekeeping had decided to leave open all of the unoccupied rooms. Sticking my head inside a few, I could see no one had occupied them in awhile. The beds were stripped of covers, and dust coated everything. Only two doors were actually closed. In some ways, that made my job easier. Yet, I might have enjoyed the buildup of opening a few false doors before the big payoff.

Weapons readied, I opened the first one. It led to a bedroom almost bigger than Dorian’s, but no one was inside. All was dark and still. A smoldering fire provided the only source of movement. Pausing a moment, I admired the wall tapestries and canopied bed. It had a nice layout, almost circular, complete with adjacent rooms and high ceilings. It made my bedroom at home look like a closet.

“One left,” I muttered, slipping back out.

We turned down the hall and approached the only other closed doorway. Unless Jasmine was locked in a dungeon, we should find her here, according to what we’d heard. I reached for the handle, then hesitated.

“You open it, Volusian.”

Some of the mist coalesced into physical form. Once solid, Volusian slowly opened the door and peered in. It looked dark. I started to move forward, but he held up a warning hand.

“No, there’s something—”

Light flared on, and suddenly we were under attack. I tried to back out of the room, but someone grabbed me, pulling me inside. With me at risk, the other minions poured into the room. They had no choice, their preemptive orders always demanding they look to my safety.

This was a bedroom, like the other one, but seven men stood here, armed with weapons and magic. I fired at the one who had grabbed me, aiming for the face and neck now that I knew what little effect I’d had on Dorian’s people. It was bloody and messy, but I felt pretty sure even the best healing magic would have a tough time fixing that guy up.

Once free of him, I turned on the next one who came at me. He was smart enough to strike out at my gun hand, attempting to neutralize that threat. I slashed at him with the other hand, the one holding the athame. He flinched at the feel of iron, and I used that momentary weakness to grab him and shove him into the wall with my elbow. He collapsed to the floor, and a sharp kick to the gut made sure he stayed down.

I saw the spirits engaged in battle nearby, shoving and fighting with a strength that was literally inhuman. Two other men had been subdued or killed by them, and they now fought a third. That left two. One lunged at me, and I shot him, the gun’s report loud in the small room. He fell backward, and I fired again, still not trusting gentry healing on their own turf.

I started to look for the last guy when I heard a small whimper on the far side of the room. I turned, pausing. It was her. Jasmine Delaney.

She was smaller and slighter than I’d thought she’d be. A long white gown covered her body, and she wrapped its voluminous folds around herself as she huddled in the corner. Lank, reddish blond hair nearly covered her face, but it couldn’t hide her eyes. They were enormous and gray, filled with fear. They stood out sharply against her pale, gaunt face. Seeing my gaze upon her, she cringed further.

Anger boiled within me. And pity. I knew she was fifteen, but in that moment, she looked about ten. She was a child. And she was trapped here, taken against her will. Hotter and fiercer my rage grew. I needed to make her captor pay, to let him know he couldn’t just—

My moment of emotion cost me. In those seconds I’d spent staring at her, I’d lost the last man. I felt a blade at my throat and realized I’d let him sneak up behind me.

“If you want to live,” he said, “drop your weapons and call off your servants.”

I didn’t really think I’d live if I did that, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t if I didn’t. So I did as he asked.

Yet, it wasn’t entirely clear to me what this one guy could really do alone. A moment later, I had my answer as another man entered. Immediately, I knew he was Aeson. For one thing, the others had been dressed in a sort of uniform. He was not. He wore deep burgundy pants tucked into thigh-high boots made of black leather. A shirt of black silk clothed his upper body, billowing and gleaming. His gray-streaked brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, and a circlet of gold sat on his head. His face was long and narrow, with a mouth destined for good sneers. Arrogant or not, Dorian had never worn a crown in his own keep, I realized. There had been no need. His kingship was obvious to all.

Two guards followed Aeson, and upon seeing the situation, he sent one for backup. And here we’d been doing so well in evening the odds.

“If I’d realized you would decimate my men in minutes, I would have had the whole garrison up here,” Aeson remarked. He leaned toward me, touching my cheek. “It really is you. Eugenie Markham. I can’t believe I finally have you.”

I tried to squirm from that touch, but I had nowhere to go, not with a blade at my throat. My minions waited, tense, willing to do whatever I asked. Yet, I feared unleashing them might put Jasmine at risk—and my own throat.

“You have her,” said a shaking voice from the hall. “I did what I said. Now give me Jasmine.”

Moving my eyes, I stared in astonishment. Wil floated in the doorway. He must have followed us after all. He looked at Aeson expectantly. An uneasy feeling built up within me, and everything clicked into place.

“You traitorous son of a bitch!”

Ignoring my outrage, Wil turned pleading eyes to Aeson. “Please. I brought you Eugenie. I kept my part of the deal.”

“Yes,” said Aeson without even looking at the other man. “You did. And I will keep my word—momentarily.”

He kept studying me like I was some kind of treasure or artifact. Like I was the eighth wonder of the world. I appreciated the boost to my ego, but the look in his eyes was actually kind of creeping me out.