Darkness Captured (24 page)

Marduk kept moving forward, ignoring Gabriella’s gasping sobs as she stumbled behind him. “Please,” she cried. “Don’t harm him.”

“He’s no longer my concern, love.”

When they’d reached the door to the stairway, he halted and bent, dragging her over his shoulder because he wanted to leave quickly before she saw her lover devoured. However well the lesson might have served her, he wished to spare her that.

Behind him there were shouts and screams.

Gabriella wriggled on his shoulder, nearly dislodging herself, but he wrapped both arms tightly around her thighs and continued upward.

Not until he’d left the banquet room and courtyard far behind did he slow his pace.

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“You will never see him again.”

She kicked her legs. “Dammit, put me down!”

Marduk held firm, ignoring her struggles. “Not until we’re well away. I don’t want you caught in the bloodlust.”

“Bloodlust! Are they going to eat him?”

He didn’t answer. But he wouldn’t be surprised. A fresh living man. Dumuzi would demand his heart. Irkalla would feast on the blood. Everyone had their own preference, and like lions surrounding a kill, they’d tear him apart and wander into their own corner with whatever they’d managed to rip from his frame.

“You have to do something.”

“It’s already too late.”

“You’re a monster! As much as any of them!” Gabriella’s sobs shook her body, and slowly her arms wrapped around his middle as she buried her face into his back. She understood now.

It was a start.

CHAPTER
15

W
hile the demon hustled Gabriella out of sight, Guntram assessed his chances of making it out alive. He had no doubts the Master would alert the guards of his presence. The cell was the last one at the end of the corridor; the only way out was down that same narrow hallway and through the dungeon, which was filled with creatures that would all want a taste of him.

Not wanting anything obscuring his vision, he ripped off the mask. He considered pulling the garrote from the seam of his trousers, but knew he’d be lucky if he could get near enough to try it before being cleaved in two, so decided to try a little intimidation to bluster his way through. It wasn’t much of a plan, he conceded, but all he had at the moment.

Squaring his shoulders he faced the doorway, pulling on his game face, and letting anger fill his muscles with steel as the sound of booted feet hurried toward him.

Two guards, sharing grim smiles, halted outside the doorway. Rather than let them have a chance to think, he rushed through the cell door, knocking the first into the guard behind him. The two fell into a heap, and Guntram stepped over their bodies, arms outstretched, growling loudly as he rushed down the corridor.

He paused to duck beneath a curved sword slicing toward his neck, gripped the man’s hand holding the pommel, and dug his heels into the floor, continuing to power forward, turning at the last moment to slam the guard into the metal bars of another cell.

The sword loosened in the man’s grip, and Guntram peeled back his fingers, breaking them until he wrested it away.

Then he was facing the next wave of guards. This time with a weapon. Feeling more sure of his chances, he faced five now as they rushed into the narrow corridor. He lowered the sword and stabbed it upward into the next guard’s soft belly, driving toward his heart. The guard crumpled, and Guntram rammed his elbow into the one beside him and spun to face the next two.

It was too easy. Were they all so easy to best? So soft and ill trained?

Another slice of his sword severed the head of a goat-faced creature, and the last guard stood in front of him, sword held in a two-fisted grip. His shoulders nearly spanned the space. The nostrils in his horrible bull’s face dilated around a gusting snort.

Guntram reigned in his rage, sensing this one wouldn’t be so easy to defeat.

The bull-man raised one hand from his grip around his sword, curled his fingers, and then stepped backward.

He expected Guntram to follow. And he did, wanting the extra space inside the wide chamber for this fight.

Once they’d both cleared the corridor, they faced off.

“Xenos, don’t bleed him completely,” came a feminine voice.

“Have buckets prepared, milady,” the bull snarled.

The woman stood on a sofa, her head above the others, watching.

Only sparing a glance, Guntram took in her dark skin and hair, her eyes flashing with excitement.

The room was quickly filling with more guards pouring through the doorway from the stairwell.

Guntram knew he wouldn’t leave this room. His glance confirmed the one fact he was grateful for. Gabriella was gone. She wouldn’t witness his death.

Again, he felt a welling of fierce satisfaction that he’d found her. That he’d claimed her, if only for an hour.

He’d lived for that moment. It was enough.

Still, he wasn’t ready to surrender. He’d die fighting like a wolf.

The bull-man snorted again, and Guntram focused his attention on his opponent. “Is it only you and me? Or should I look for a coward’s knife flying toward my back?”

“Take me, if you can. Win another night of life if you succeed.”

“Your promise, lady?” Guntram said, raising his gaze to the woman, already having divined that she was Irkalla, the Queen of the Dead.

“My promise, warrior,” she said, one corner of her mouth curling in a smirk. “If you are strong enough to defeat my finest, I will want to take a closer look at you.”

Guntram took what she said, decided to believe her, and fight the good fight. Another day meant another chance to escape. Gabriella’s fate was not yet sealed.

The bull-man began to circle him, flexing his shoulders and swinging his curved sword in slow arcs. With his chest puffed out and his head lifting high, Guntram knew the creature thought this would be an easy contest to win.

Guntram drew in deep breaths to calm his racing heart, then narrowed his focus to his opponent, closing out the sounds of the creatures stirring around him, shouting wagers on the outcome of the battle. He shook his head, loosening the muscles bunched in his neck and shoulders. He raised his sword and curled his fist and pounded at the air, filling his heart with quiet rage. Deep inside, he knew he wouldn’t lose this fight. Simon had brought him here for a purpose, and he had to believe this contest wasn’t the end.

Tired of watching the other warrior posture for the crowd, Guntram lowered his sword and grasped it with both hands, then ran for the other warrior, slicing toward his neck.

The bull-man met his advance with his own blade, pushed him away, and came back with a wicked chop toward his flanks.

Guntram spun away, agile as only a wolf could be, and lowered his head. “Wolves hunted bison and cattle. Do you really think you can best me?”

“You’re a tiny man,” the bull-man sneered. “Show me some fur and maybe I’ll shiver with fear.” He strode forward, raising his arm again and slicing toward Guntram’s head.

Guntram met the blow and felt the hard jangle all the way to his toes. “You’re powerful, but you’re slow.” Guntram lifted his upper lip in a snarl and shot out one foot, hooked it behind the other man’s knees, and shoved.

The bull grabbed Guntram’s shoulder and they both fell to the floor, their swords above their heads.

A meaty fist slammed into Guntram’s side, expelling air in a pained whoosh. They rolled, the bull getting on top of him, but Guntram dug a heel into the carpet beneath him and bucked, turning the bull. As soon as he rolled the beast to his back, Guntram rammed his knee between his legs and scrambled away.

The bull roared in agony, his hand closing around his groin. His large round eyes narrowed on Guntram as he came to his hands and knees and rose slowly.

Guntram allowed him the time, wanting to impress the queen with his lack of fear. Besides, he was growing more confident by the second, now that he was gaining the upper hand.

The bull was breathing heavily, his snorts deepening. He was growing angry and was likely embarrassed that he hadn’t already defeated his opponent.

Guntram felt a cooling calm wash over him. His focus narrowed again. Every movement, every breath of his opponent was noted while his mind raced ahead to figure out how he would defeat him.

Guntram beat his fist against his chest and growled, letting his wolf’s voice rumble from deep inside his chest.

The bull snorted, and a deep roar precipitated another lunging attack at Guntram, but this time Guntram was prepared, stepping aside at the last minute and driving his sword into the back of the beast.

Xenos fell to his knees, his face turning to his queen.

Guntram read the lack of mercy in her cold features, placed a foot against the bull’s back and drew back his sword. There could be no mercy shown. He lifted his blade and swung it downward.

Blood sprayed in every direction, showering Guntram and the carpet beneath them. The bull’s neck was thick, but Guntram’s sharp blade, backed by the power of his rage, drove downward until the head tilted, severing, and dropped to the floor. Blood continued to spurt in pulses from the raw open wound. Guntram wiped his blade on the bull’s clothing and then turned to face the crowd, which had grown silent around him.

He didn’t spare a single glance for any of them, lifting his gaze instead to the woman still standing on the sofa.

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in shock.

“You will honor your promise to me?” he asked, his chest billowing with his ragged breaths.

Her lips closed. “You dare to ask me that?”

“I’m standing among demons and sinners. Why should I expect you to keep your word?”

“I’m not a demon. And I don’t lie.” Her gaze remained locked with his, but she raised her hand. “Take him away. Wolf, you will have to surrender your weapons.”

Guntram nodded, throwing down the sword, then bent to slide the knife from the top of his boot. He straightened and let the knife roll off his fingers to the floor.

Before it settled, hands grabbed his arms roughly and pulled them behind his back. A rope was tied around his wrists, and then he was shoved forward through the crowd.

“Make way, make way,” came the shout from the guard behind him.

Guntram didn’t take his gaze from the woman’s until the guard pushed him through the door of the stairway. Out of sight, the guard threaded his fingers through Guntram’s hair and slammed his head into the wall. “Give me no problems. I’d hate to have to tell her that you died trying to escape,” he whispered beside Guntram’s ear.

“I’ll cause you no trouble,” Guntram said quietly, promising to himself that the first chance he got, he’d kill the bastard.

Marduk dumped Gabriella on the bed and then strode away.

Although she wanted to hide her face in her hands and have a good, long cry, she kept her gaze on him, wiping her tears from her face with the back of a hand.

The Master was furious. He paced the room, his body bristling, fists clenched tightly. He didn’t once glance her way.

The door opened, and Xalia slipped into the room, her eyes wide. Her mouth opened to speak.

“Get out, Xalia. And don’t hover at the door,” Marduk said tightly.

“Yes, Bel,” she said, biting her lip and aiming a glare at Gabriella. She left as quietly as she’d come.

The candles they’d lit before they left burned low. The room was filled with murky shadows despite the bright moonlight that filtered through the curtains. Darkness loomed in the corners and painted Marduk’s features with an eerie, ominous cast.

A hiccup caught her by surprise, and she closed her mouth, determined to remain still and quiet so that she didn’t draw his attention while he worked through his anger.

Thoughts of what Guntram must be suffering wouldn’t leave her mind. She remembered the blood feast in the hall where she’d first arrived. It didn’t take much of a leap of imagination to know what must be happening. What had probably already occurred. For all she knew, he was dead, dismembered, his parts hacked away and carried off to be eaten.

A shudder shook her body, and she eased to the mattress, taking her gaze from Marduk at last to press her face into the bedding to muffle her sobs. For most of her life, Guntram had been her constant companion, her rock. Knowing he’d had her back gave her confidence, made her feel invincible.

After she’d been attacked in the forest during her first heat, she’d wandered packless, seducing men for the wealth they showered on her until she’d amassed a small fortune. Only then had she sought her own kind, building her own pack as a lone male wolf might, impressing males into her service with the promise of fortune and adventure.

They hadn’t been tied to territory; instead they’d roamed, offering their talents as warriors to whoever paid the most, human or Wolfen, until at last the clans in the region had taken notice. They’d enjoyed a unique position and were prized for their warriors’ skills as well as her abilities as a negotiator whenever troubles erupted among the many nations.

When the packs had dwindled in Europe, she’d made the decision to explore opportunities in the New World. Guntram had followed; so had most of the packmates he’d selected. They were loyal to her, but loved him. They’d all looked to him in times of trouble. His stoic presence had seemed immutable.

She’d never fooled herself into believing she alone was responsible for their success and esteemed position. Guntram had made it possible. His support had given her freedom, his presence held back the nightmares.

And what had she given him in return? Respect, yes. Autonomy, certainly. But at the end, she knew it wasn’t enough to repay him for all he’d done for her. She’d been selfish, so self-involved she’d ignored what she’d always known—that he hadn’t stayed because of duty or loyalty, but because he loved her.

The way he’d covered her in the cell, using all his knowledge of her needs was proof enough—that he’d sacrificed his life for hers cemented her belief.