Enslaved by the Others (9 page)

Max was all too pleased. “Very good. It seems she can be taught after all.”

Sara was crying again. My own eyes stung with unshed tears as I stared up at the sly, pleased smile of my captor.

As soon as I got my hands on a weapon, I was going to kill that son of a bitch.

He let go of Sara’s arm, which fell limply to dangle at her side. The agonized sound she made and the boneless way her arm moved hinted at dislocation. As much as I wanted to get up to help her, Max might hurt her again if I tried. I glared up at him, wishing I could somehow hate him to death.

Fabian was looking at Sara with naked hunger glimmering in his eyes. I had the sudden, horrible thought that she might only be alive right now because Max had told him she might be useful to use against me. Had that changed?

“Sire,” Fabian said, “we have a plane to catch.”

“You may go. I’ll call if I have need of you. I’ll see you both the week of the full moon.”

Fabian nodded at Max’s dismissal and put his arm around Gideon’s shoulder, urging him toward the door. The necromancer looked back, his gaze locked on Sara with an expression that was somewhere between calculation and concern. He surprised me by halting in the door, shrugging off Fabian’s touch and addressing Max directly.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stay.”

Fabian was clearly annoyed by his lover’s temerity. His dark complexion became more so, his brown eyes glinting with a hint of red embers in the irises. “Gideon. Now is not the time.”

Gideon didn’t give an inch. There wasn’t a bit of fear in him for angering Fabian, surprisingly enough. Even more unexpected was his gesturing at Sara, impassioned in a way I didn’t fully understand.

“She’s my responsibility. Let me take care of her injuries.” Then he looked right at me, something in his tone telling me there was more to what he was saying, though I wasn’t sure what. “I’ll help with her, too. Let me do this.”

Max’s gaze narrowed, thoughtful as he took in Fabian’s reaction. “What do you have to gain from this, little spark?”

If Gideon was annoyed by the slur, he gave no sign. “A familiar. She’s already been marked once. When you don’t need her anymore, alive or dead, I can still use her.”

That sent a fresh bolt of panic up my spine. Marked. A familiar. Had he and Fabian lied to me back in Los Angeles? Were those blood runes he had supposedly removed, the ones that let magi use Sara like a living battery to power their spells, still there, unseen under her skin, maybe not as dormant as we thought? Had his ritual keyed those runes to him alone, rather than leaving her open to assault by any passing mage?

Gideon glanced at me as he stressed his next words, though there was no mental message to go with it this time. “Though I’d prefer her
alive.
”

Holy shit. The necromancer really
was
planning on busting us out of here. I had no idea how or why—something must have changed between him knocking us out for Max’s benefit back in California and whenever he arrived here with Fabian to deliver Sara like some twisted housewarming present—but I was grateful for that change of heart, nonetheless.

“So be it,” Max said.

Gideon’s smile contained a world of mischief, though he did a passable job at making it look sincere and pleased as he bowed his head. Only I caught his wink—and Fabian’s fists clenching at his sides.

“Sire, I must protest—”

Max cut Fabian off. “The necromancer made his choice. You know the rules.”

“Yes, sire,” came the sullen response. “I’ll be in touch.”

Gideon blew Fabian a kiss. “Don’t worry. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Fabian’s discontented growl was low, but clearly audible. He turned on a heel and stalked out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. I had to wonder what those “rules” were that Max mentioned. Was Gideon considered a power unto himself? Was it possible Fabian couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to? Maybe that had something to do with why Gideon chose to stay behind.

My gaze flicked to Sara, slumped in the chair, her cheeks wet with blood and tears. I would do anything to keep her safe. If Gideon couldn’t get me out of here, I’d be content with helping her escape this hell. After all, it was me Max wanted to break.

For her sake, I would bend and bow and scrape. But knowing that Gideon might get us both out alive was the first sign of hope I’d been given since I stumbled into Max’s clutches.

I only hoped I could stomach being as obedient as he wanted until then. Judging by the sinister smile he turned on me, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter Seven

I paced beside the pool, flexing my hands. It wasn’t just because I was incredibly nervous and worried about Sara, though that played a huge part in my jittery energy. The movement helped my concentration as I practiced making my nails grow into bone-white talons, then back to normal.

That might come in handy later.

The other captives, even Iana, avoided me. Sara had been taken elsewhere by Gideon. Max brought me back to my prison and then left to parts unknown. He either had better things to do than deal with my combined panic and rage, now that he knew how to make me do what he wanted, or he wanted me to stew for a while. Maybe both.

If I could have, I would have torn the place apart to find Sara and get the hell out, but even my newfound Other side didn’t have the strength to break down the door. After I tried a couple of times, bruising my shoulder, a voice over an intercom relayed that Max said if I kept it up, I would be sent back downstairs.

After that I flipped off the security camera above the door and stalked outside. Now all I had to keep me company was a vast sense of helplessness and a desire to control or unleash whatever was making my blood turn black. After refusing to acknowledge what I might be turning into for so long, it was strangely easy to accept my new abilities now that I wanted to use them. If I could summon those heightened senses and make that increased strength appear at will instead of only when I was angry, maybe I could use them to escape this mess.

So far, making the claws come out was pretty easy. If I concentrated on the thought of danger, they formed with little more than a tingle, growing out of the nail bed. Making them go away was harder, and they almost hurt as they slipped back under the skin.

Aside from the claws, I had no way of knowing for sure if concentrating was making anything else happen. I didn’t want to break any furniture testing my strength and I wasn’t about to ask Iana to be a sparring partner. Even with whatever edge the Other side might have given me, collar or no, I was sure she could wipe the floor with me.

She appeared, as if summoned by my thoughts, inches away the next time I turned around. Smothering a startled gasp, I suppressed the urge to hit her for scaring me. I ran at the mouth instead.

“First thing we do when we get out of here is buy a bell for that collar.”

She smiled, though there was little humor in it, then gestured at my hands. “I wouldn’t do that. If he catches you, he may declaw you.”

She wasn’t kidding. I raised a hand to eye level, staring at my fingertips. A massive shudder rolled down my spine. “Well, this place keeps getting better and better.”

She inclined her head, a subtle glow building in the depths of her eyes. “You have a better chance of escape than I do, and my freedom hinges on yours. If you compromise that, I will be very displeased.”

Awesome. Like I said, better and better.

Rather than risk pissing off her or Max or anyone else, I stalked over to the nearest empty pool chair and rested my elbows on my knees, cupping my chin in my hands. The sparkle of sunlight on the pristine carpet of snow outside our prison felt like a taunt, reminding me of the freedom I’d lost.

Iana pressed a hand to my shoulder, sending a jolt of heat through the thin silk of my robe to seep into my skin. I did my best not to flinch away, turning my head to look at her out of the corner of my eye.

“There is ... something new. Something dark in you. What did they do while you were gone?”

Oh, that was a pleasant thought. Just what did Gideon do to me when he touched me? “I don’t know. There was a necromancer—”

Iana made a sharp, hissing sound, her hand moving in a gesture that looked something like what I’d seen Arnold do when casting freehand spells. As I stumbled away from her, putting distance between us, she cried out in pain as nothing but a few fizzling blue-white sparks trickled from her fingertips just before she clutched at her collar. The skin around her throat and on her palms and fingertips where she grabbed at the metal was reddening.

When I reached for her, her hand shot out, slapping my own away. The sting was nothing compared to the mixed fear and loathing on her face. I wasn’t totally sure if it was directed at me or at my mention of Gideon, but it wasn’t pleasant to have that fierce, glowing gaze focused on me. Never mind if that collar protected me from her magic—there was nothing to say she might not use her supernatural strength to snap my neck if she wanted.

“A necromancer,” she said, staring into nothing. “I thought they ... never mind. If you’ve garnered that thing’s attention, there is nothing I can do to help you. Not like this.”

“What’s wrong with me? What do you mean, ‘not like this’?”

“It’s in you. In your blood. In your head. You’re cursed. Without the collar I might be able to get it out, but this ...” She tugged at the creepy fashion accessory, a low growl of frustration telling me better than words what she meant. She couldn’t cast a damned thing with that circle of metal cutting her off from wherever her power came from. It was still there. The sparks, even if they signaled the spell fizzling, told me as much. She just couldn’t do whatever it was she needed to in order to complete casting.

If only I could be sure she intended to help me, not destroy me, when she was trying to cast that spell on me.

I had already committed to finding a way of freeing her from Max if I managed to do the same. Now it looked like I’d be putting myself back in danger if I did find a way to free her. If I could have, I would have throttled Gideon for messing with my head and complicating this mess. Even if he was my best shot at finding a way out, who was to say he wasn’t doing it to find a way to have me under his thumb himself?

“Look, Iana, I’m sorry it scares you. Gideon saved my best friend’s life. He hinted he wants to get us out of here. He’s not a good guy—okay, he really
is
a bad guy—but I’m not sure his motives for being here are evil.”

She gave me a look that told me clearer than words she thought I was being hopelessly naïve.

Okay. Maybe I was. I sometimes had a hard time believing the worst about people, and never mind that I was a private investigator who regularly saw the ugly underbelly of “polite” society. Gideon had already proven more than once that he was two-faced. He was good at sneaking under defenses and manipulating people. He’d managed to get close enough to Sara to nearly kill her, sucking her energy or her soul or who knew what out through the blood runes carved into her arm by the long-dead sorcerer, David Borowsky. We’d trusted Gideon to keep his word when he promised to get rid of the runes. I wondered what he’d really done. They weren’t visible on her skin anymore, but if what he’d said was true, he might have done something to key the runes to himself instead of leaving her open to any mage who wanted to steal a bit of her.

If Sara’s mage boyfriend, Arnold, ever found out, he’d probably kill Gideon with his bare hands.

I wondered if Arnold had any idea we were in trouble. He hadn’t answered my last message, left when I was still with the White Hats—humans who fancied themselves vigilante supernatural hunters—in Los Angeles. Maybe he’d team up with Royce and ride in to save the day once they figured out where we were.

And maybe I’d win the lottery, too.

Iana stared at me, intent, like she was peeling away the layers of whatever she saw on my face to read the truths hiding in the dark corners of my mind. Maybe she was assessing whatever Gideon had done to me in some way I couldn’t see or understand. Either way, the two of them gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“You do realize how foolish that makes you sound, do you not? You should be afraid of it. Necromancers are things of darkness and corruption. Everything they come into contact with dies, quick or slow.”

I snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, judging by the murderous look she gave me. I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I know he isn’t all sweetness and light, and he’s definitely got something up his sleeve, but right now nothing scares me more than Max and what he might do to my friend Sara. They have her. He’s using her to make me do what he wants.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to play along. It’s probably using your feelings for her to goad you into doing what it wants. That’s how their tricks work.”

“No kidding. You think I don’t know that?” Scowling, I folded my arms. “I wish you wouldn’t call him an it. He might not be human, but I don’t think he merits an ‘it.’”

The glimmer in her eye took on a sardonic sheen when she cocked a brow at me. “You’re changing the subject. Whatever the gender, it is irrelevant. That thing isn’t here to help you. It’s here to help itself. You’re just letting yourself be used, and in a far more insidious way than Max Carlyle ever intended.”

“I can’t watch them hurt her. I just can’t. I have to get out of here, and if that means letting a necromancer help me, so be it.”

Iana shook her head and turned away, the curl of her lip telling me she was still disgusted with my life choices. Neither of us was ever going to get out if she wasn’t open to using whatever options were available to us, no matter how distasteful they might be.

Gideon might have thought Sara and I were both pawns to be shuffled around at his whim, a means to who knew what end, but I could play that game, too. Who said Others were the only ones who could be manipulative?