Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (34 page)

Ossian tensed and Rose noted the
dark frown suddenly marring his usually enigmatic features.  She addressed
Faye, half an eye on Ossian. “And what is that exactly?”

Faye’s lips curved in a slow
deliberate smile. “The world.”

Ossian’s nostrils flared, his eyes
widening in what Rose could only identify as shock.  It looked like someone
hadn’t received the memo about world domination.  She filed this bit of
information away, Ossian may yet prove useful but right now she wasn’t done
baiting Faye. “Oh, please! If I had a pound for every time I’ve heard some
super villain make that statement I’d be rolling in it,” Rose mocked.

Bres stepped in. “This isn’t one of
your…movies, or a…what do you call them…ah, yes, comic books. This is the real
thing.  Let me tell you a real story.” He cocked his head, his eyes travelling
around the cavern to ensure he had their attention.  Finally, when he was
satisfied that all eyes were on him, he began. “Centuries ago, banished
underground and undersea we united against our common enemies, the mortals. The
immortal races, the Tuatha De Danaan and the Fomorians, what you call the fey
today, fought side by side to ensure our place above ground.  Your ancestors,
however, the underhand creatures that they were, discovered a way to strip us
of our power and therefore ensure themselves a speedy victory.  They had a
little help of course.” His gaze flicked to Rose then away again.  “It was in
this chamber on this night, on the eve of Samhain, that our power was pulled
away from us and trapped within this earth. Until a couple of decades ago we
had given up hope of ever rising again.” He snorted. “But luck is a fickle
thing, and just when I had given up hope, luck and fate drew me to the answer.”
Once again his gaze lingered on Rose a fraction longer than necessary.  Then he
turned his attention to Raven.  “I was led to the knowledge we needed to
reclaim our right and fate was on our side as I found every one of you in the
same city– if anything were to confirm the righteousness of my path that was
it.” He raised his hands in the air. “Upon this night when the veil between
this world and the otherworld is at its thinnest, we will call forth our power
from it’s earthly prison to return once more and fill our treasures with light
and allow us to reclaim our power. Time is of the essence, and the ritual must
be completed forthwith”

“I really don’t like the sound of
that,” Thistle rasped weakly.

“Do not be alarmed, a little blood
is all I ask, once you have served your purpose you will be free to leave.”

“Yeah, right, and pigs might fly,”
Liza said sarcastically.

“I have no need for you after our
power is returned.  All I ask is that you give me your blood.” 

Something wasn’t quite right here. 
Something in his wording. And then it struck Rose.  He wanted them to
give
him
their blood, implying that their consent was integral to the process. “No.”
Rose pulled herself to her feet.  “I won’t give you my blood. If you want it
you’ll have to take it, but you don’t have my consent.” She made herself clear.

Liza nodded, catching on quickly.

Bres winced then tutted. “That is a
shame. I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this. Faye?”

“Yes, father.”  Faye lifted her head
and closed her eyes. “Here, doggy. Fetch!”

There was a clatter of chains and
the sound of something large being dragged across the floor.  Rose’s heart
began to thump wildly in her chest.  Shit! Shit! She had forgotten about Flo! 
Raven’s stricken face told her that he too had just made the connection. The
bastards had leverage.  All eyes turned to the door but what came through
wasn’t what any of the captives were expecting.

Harold entered the room, his chest
oiled and bare and a studded dog collar tied tightly around his bulging neck.
With one hand he easily pulled along a bloody figure.

Roman…

43.

TINY DROPLETS OF CRIMSON

From the rise and fall of his
chest, Rose could tell that Roman was alive.  His eyes, however, were closed
and swollen and he was covered in blood. He raised his head weakly– he was
conscious. There was a nasty looking wound on his shoulder, a deep welt that
shimmered and Rose realised it was embedded with silver. Harold stopped
dragging him and stood motionless, his face expressionless– just an empty,
blank canvas with dead eyes looking into the distance at nothing in particular.

“Good boy,” Faye crooned.

Harold didn’t react.

“Harold?” Raven called. He glared
at Faye. “What have you done?”

“He’s my pet now. I always wanted a
dog. And this one is house trained to the extreme.”

Bres waved a hand at one of the
winged creatures. “Fetch the other prisoner, darkling.” 

The darkling left to do as he was
bid.

The cavern was filled with a sudden
pregnant silence.  A jumble of unvoiced thoughts, a tumult of emotions held in
check, every captive afraid to break the peace, afraid of the consequences.
Only Erin whimpered lightly at the sight of his bloodied brother on the ground.
All eyes were on Roman and Harold, the air thick with dreadful anticipation.

The silence was abruptly broken as
Flo’s unmistakable voice filled the cavern.

“Get off me!” she demanded, as the
darkling dragged her in. She was covered in dirt and grime, her hair in
disarray, her clothes torn. Her wrists were bound together before her with
thick shackles connected to a heavy chain link leash which the darkling took
great pleasure in yanking periodically. Her feet were bare and she was limping.

She spotted her youngest son. “ERIN!” She burst forward trying to reach him and was jerked backwards off her feet by the
babbling darkling, its eyes bulging with glee. The darkling lashed out with its
wiry legs, kicking Flo between the shoulders blades so she fell forward,
landing on her knees.

“MUM!” Erin pointed wildly in the
direction of Harold and Roman.

Flo screamed. “MY BOY! WHAT HAVE
YOU DONE!”

“Enough!” Bres’ command filled the
chamber.

Flo turned her head to glare at
him, her eyes burning with impotent fury. “Who the fuck are you?”

Bres ignored her and withdrew a
silver dagger from inside his robes. The Darklings hummed excitedly, making odd
cooing noises as Bres approached Harold and Roman.

Bres looked down on Roman with cool
disgust. “Get up.”

“Fuck you,” Roman’s lips were
cracked and bleeding, one of his eyes too swollen to open fully.

“Get up.” Bres delivered a sharp
kick to Roman’s ribs. 

Roman grunted in pain, bowing his
head, his back rising and falling with the effort of breathing through the
pain.  For the first time Rose noticed how discoloured his sides were. It would
be a miracle if his ribs weren’t broken.

Roman tilted his head to Bres.  “I
said fuck you.”

“Get him up,” Bres directed Harold.

 In a swift motion, Harold had
Roman on his feet.

“Fuck.” Roman gasped and swayed a
little, light headed at the speed in which he was forced to his feet. “So…I’m
up…”

Bres stood before him. “You will
all comply. There is no other choice. Disobedience will not be tolerated.”

Roman snorted. “What you gonna do?
Kill me to prove a point?”

Bres’ beautiful face was suddenly
devoid of any emotion. “Yes.”

“NO!” Flo shrieked. “NO!”

Rose drew a shocked breath and held
it, shaking her head from side to side as if to deny what she had just heard.

“Time runs short and I have a point
to make, much better illustrated with something visual.” He grasped Roman’s
chin in one hand yanking his head up further. “This is the penalty for
disobedience, the price for your compliance.”

Roman struggled, unable to break
free.

 Bres raised the dagger above
Roman’s head.

“Wait.” Faye stepped forward.

For a spilt second Rose’s heart
leapt into her mouth, for a split second she entertained the thought that Faye
may be Roman’s saviour. As if sensing her thoughts, Faye graced her with a sly
sidelong look and Rose’s heart plummeted.

“Give the dagger to Harold,” Faye
said sweetly.

Bres seemed to consider this, his
eyes moving from his daughter to Harold to Raven and then finally to Roman. 
“An excellent suggestion.”

Faye and her father exchanged a
look that rattled Rose’s insides. “Please, no,” she pleaded. “We will comply,
please. There will be no more resistance.”

“Roman…” Thistle’s voice was
saturated with panic.

They were going to do it…they were
really going to do it…. Rose willed her hands to glow, she had to do something.
She had to stop them hurting…killing…she had to…

Bres handed the silver dagger to
Harold. Harold’s palm hissed as the silver ate into his flesh. The werewolf
didn’t flinch, didn’t show any sign that the dagger burning into his hand was
painful.

Why wasn’t it working? Why wouldn’t
her power rise?

Try harder!
Rose willed
herself.

Raven was trying to break free from
his binds, the silver burning his skin with a sickening sizzle. “HAROLD! Put
the dagger down. HAROLD! Resist it! HAROLD!”  His cries reverberated around the
chamber, piercing each of them with his desperation but failed to pierce
Harold’s armour.

Roman reached for his pack brother,
tried to form the connection they had always had despite their constant
bickering. “Come on, mate,” he said softly “This isn’t you, you’re no one’s
bitch.” For the breath of a moment Harold’s eyes locked on him, seemed to see
him, a sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead, his mouth pulling down
at the corners. 

Faye laid a hand on Harold’s
shoulder. “Now,” she commanded. And the budding connection with Roman was
severed. 

Roman sagged.  Harold pulled him up
and ready.

“FUCK!” Thistle cried out. “ROMAN!”

As the blade plunged downwards
guided by Harold’s hand, Roman’s eyes scanned the room, full of life, full of
regret.  They touched upon Thistle, Erin, Flo, Raven and finally Rose. And it
was Rose who saw the life fade from those emerald depths.

There followed screams of shock,
anguish and vengeance.  While Roman’s bloody body was discarded on the ground,
the room erupted with a cacophony of sounds.

Rose was silent, her eyes fixed on
the limp body of the man she had loved.  His mouth was slightly parted as if in
a silent plea, his eyes closed. He looked empty.

She felt it building up inside her,
the power awakened by her anger.  It sensed the rage and latched onto it even
before she herself was consciously aware of it.  And she felt the heat of it,
the fury that she directed at the power itself.  Why now? Why not a mere few
moments ago? 

What good are you now?
She
raised her face to the roof and screamed.

“ROSE! NO!” Raven’s call cut
through the fog of destructive emotion swirling around her, and she registered
the familiar tingling burn in her limbs. 

“ROSE! You can’t!” Raven cried
again.

“Impressive, but a breach of our
little oral contract don’t you think?”  Bres’ dulcet tones filled the air. 

Rose lowered her gaze to find him
clutching a weeping Flo by the hair. 

He looked down at her hands.
“Lights out, please.”

Sure enough her hands were
glowing.  Her lip curling in disgust, she pulled the energy back, willing it
into the tiny visualised box near her heart– a box that was beginning to tick
like a bomb.

“Good.” Bres released Flo, flinging
her toward the far wall where she collided with the rock face with a thump and
fell dazed to the ground.

It was then that Rose registered Erin’s heart wrenching sobs.  Thistle’s eyes were dazed, empty, as if a part of her had
died with Roman.  Raven’s wrists and lower arms were seared and bloody from
pulling at his restraints, his face still wet with tears.  Liza and Henry were
gazing at Roman’s body with stunned expressions.

“Good boy,” Faye said to Harold.
“Now go and keep the bed warm.” Faye kissed him, a long lingering kiss.

Harold’s eyes were open and
unresponsive. But Rose saw something in them, saw a flash of life that was gone
almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Faye kissed him again and he faded
away.

Flo, having recovered from her
daze, was sobbing again as the next wave of grief hit her. Her hands were
bleeding as she clawed and punched wildly at the ground, pulling at the chains
that bound her, desperate to be with her dead son. A darkling had her firmly
restrained. “ROMAN! MY BABY! NO! ROMAN! ROMAN! ROMAN!”

Bres frowned in annoyance. “How am
I supposed to think with all this noise?” His lip curled in distaste as he took
in Flo’s display of grief.  He sighed and turned to Faye. “Silence her.”

“Can I cut out her tongue?”

Ossian stepped forward. “Has there
not been enough unnecessary bloodshed?”

Faye growled low in her throat but
Bres simply nodded and turned to his daughter.  “I am sure you can find other
means to silence the woman.”

Faye walked over to Flo.  She put a
finger to her lips. “Shhh.” Then she flicked her wrist, ejecting some silver silk,
which latched onto Flo’s mouth, effectively gagging her. Faye returned to her
father, leaving Flo to continue her futile struggle against her restraints in
silence. “Better?”

“Much.” They shared a warm smile
before Bres turned back to his literally captive audience.  “Now you have seen
the severity of the situation. I have shown you that compliance is the only
option you have. The werewolf’s mother will be next if you fail again.”

No one said a word– there was no
cause to believe otherwise. It was as if the fight had been bled out of them,
flowing away and seeping into the dusty earth in time with Roman’s life blood.

Bres studied each of them severely
“And then if you fail again, the other prisoner will follow.”

“Brandon.” Raven whispered.

Rose shot Raven an enquiring look
but his eyes were fixed on the figure wreathed in shadows.  Ossian shifted
nervously.  Rose’s mind worked quickly, they must have used Brandon to lure
Raven and then Ossian had somehow captured them both. 

Bres nodded. “Do I have your full
cooperation?”

A traumatised Liza and Henry nodded
warily.  Erin was still crying. Thistle was silent, her head bowed as if in
submission.

Raven spoke for them all. “You have
our cooperation.”

Bres looked at him and nodded.
“Good. It is almost midnight. Ossian, bring the athame.”

Roman’s dead…
Rose’s inner
voice reminded her.

Ossian held a plain wooden box in
his hands. He handed it to Bres, averting his gaze from the captives.

He’s not comfortable with this,
thought Rose, the evidence was in his body language– the slight hesitation
before he did as he was bid, the furrow of his brow.

Bres approached Erin but when he
spoke he addressed them all. “With this iron blade you will all give the gift
of your blood. Cut deep enough for blood to fall onto the platform.”

Bres opened the box and winced.
Inside was an iron athame with a black handle. He lowered the box to Erin, holding it as far away from himself as he could. “The first gift of blood is from the
human descendent.” He thrust the box toward Erin. “Take it.”

Erin looked at the blade, his sobs
turning to frightened hiccups.

“You will take it and give your
gift of blood,” Bres said sharply. “Do not waste time.”

Rose broke away from the screaming
in her head. “It’s okay,” she said to Erin. “It won’t hurt for long. It’s okay.
Just pick it up.”

Roman is dead…

“It has to be by your hand.” Bres
jiggled the box impatiently. “Do it now or your mother will follow your
brother.”

Raven growled.

“It’s okay.” Rose reassured Erin again.

Erin removed the iron athame from
the box. “Don’t hurt my mum.” He stuck out his bottom lip, positioned the blade
on the palm of his hand, squeezing his eyes shut and sliced. He bit his lip and
moaned as tiny droplets of crimson dripped onto the platform beneath him.

The platform vibrated. A tinny
sound like a delicate bell emanated from beneath and the grey metal lit up in a
pretty turquoise light.

A whisper on the air…

Erin put the blade back into the
wooden box with shaking hands and sat down clutching his wound.

Rose felt a surge of love and pride
toward the little boy.  His bravery in the face of something he should never
have had to face was astounding.  Roman would be so proud of him.

Roman is dead…

Bres moved to Thistle next. “The
second gift of blood is from the vampire descendent.”

Thistle was on her knees, her eyes
still closed. She reached up and took the athame from the box, keeping her eyes
closed. She sliced her palm, allowed her blood to flow. Her platform lit up
turquoise. She returned the blade to its box.

“The third gift of blood is from
the werewolf descendent.”

Raven took the blade, his eyes
holding Bres’ and cut. “His death will be avenged.”

Bres simply smiled patronisingly.

Liza was next.

“The fourth gift of blood is from
the witch descendent.”

Then Bres turned to Henry.

“The fifth gift of blood is from
the warlock descendent.”

Finally it was Rose’s turn.

“And now you,” Bres said. “Your
blood is the final key in the lock, and the most precious.”

Rose wanted to ask how she was the
most precious and what she exactly was. Why hadn’t he named her? But the words
were lost inside her, swirling beneath the only three words that mattered.
Roman
is dead…