rogue shifter 07 - cut off (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Elle reappeared an hour later on the floor by the window, groaning and then curling into a ball. Blood stained the back of her dress where she'd been beaten and there were bruises on her neck and ear. She needed to be tended to, and it was clear no one in Faerie was going to help her. That left only me.

I held my breath between words so I wouldn't smell the blood. "Elle. Talk to me."

"I need sleep." she whispered, obviously in pain.

"You can sleep after I clean you up."

She moaned, but forced herself to sit, wincing. "It's nothing new. Lord Folont gets his exercise by caning me. He's better than some."

I peeled the tunic away and was stunned by the marks across her flesh. "Why don't you heal them?"

"Kennet healed the worst of it, but the queen blocks my healing magic for twenty-four hours after a beating. Then she only restores enough so that I can heal myself and function on the lowest level, never enough to escape or fight back. Not that anyone can fight against Fionna or Kennet."

I remembered the male who brought us to this room. "Does she also block the magic of full-blood fae?"

"Yes, to some degree. Except for her favorites like Kennet and their personal guard. That's why so many of the others look thin or still have scars. They have to ration their magic, so some choose not to heal so they can keep their personal shields as strong as possible."

I helped her into the washroom and dampened a cloth, then cleaned off each line where her flesh had been scored by the cane. She was brave, even though the process must have caused her pain. I thought of Jackie, and how Kennet had whipped her, and found Elle staring at me strangely.

"Your eyes are silver. The blood must be disturbing you. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but that isn't why my eyes have turned. I'm thinking about when Kennet whipped my mate. I want him dead as much as you do."

"Kennet is...he is an animal. I would go to Folont twice a day rather than spend an hour with Kennet."

"Why did he heal you?"

"I must be kept strong enough to feed you."

"Did you know he was about to be executed, when Fionna saved him? The Dark Lord of the Hunt was never satisfied."

"Yes, we've all heard the story of the queen's evil siblings in Cascade who were going to massacre their youngest brother because he chose to bed a shifter."

"He raped and beat my mate. He had his own people kidnapped and held prisoner, chained in iron for months."

She shuddered as she laced her dress. "Thank you for your kindness. I have not met another vampire. Are they all like you?"

"Like any other race, most of us are peaceful when we're allowed to be. You should rest."

"After you feed from me." I began to protest, but she interrupted. "Feed and then we will both sleep. Your mate needs you strong."

Her blood infused my starving body with much needed energy. I took the smallest amount, but it was more than enough to bring me back to full strength. If only I could somehow access the lines.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"Put up your strongest shields." I did. Intense pain tore through my mind when he tore them down. I cried out, bending at the waist. "You may not speak or move away." Then I was mute. It was that fast. I would have still been moaning from the pain, if he'd allowed it. "Stand straight and look at me, Charles." My head turned in Isaiah's direction without instruction from my own mind. Some primal hindbrain told me to run, but I couldn't even twitch a finger.

His expression was stern. "Walk to the grill."

I picked up my right foot, intending to head toward the woods that bordered the mountains, but instead, my legs and feet carried me across the patio, while my thoughts and emotions spun in terrified confusion. I started to say something like,
Hey, man. I didn't exactly mean that you should barbeque me
, but no words came out of my mouth. I felt heat. I started to sweat. I stepped back—only I couldn't.

I was facing the grill, maybe only a foot and a half away. I tried again to turn, but my body didn't respond. I watched the heat rise in waves against the black of the open lid, my eyes blinking as they dried. I shuddered with anxiety, an automatic response that even he couldn't control. I tried to tell him to cut it out, but my mouth—didn't—wouldn't move. I couldn't even grunt. In desperation I tried to use magic, but I was blocked. He'd blocked me from my own magic.

I was helpless and fucking terrified. He could kill me now, and no one would ever find out how I died. I'd just told him I trusted him, but...but this was too much. This was wrong and he should set me free.

"Look at me." Isaiah stood beside me wearing an expression I'd never seen in all the years I'd known him. It was cruel. Hard. I was going to die a horrible death today. "Kennet forced your mother to kiss him and enjoy it. He made her body want him, even though her mind was screaming for him to stop. He heard her screams in his mind, as I hear yours, yet he did nothing.

"What you tried to do to me, what you're capable of doing to others, is mind rape. Cruelty in its most heinous form. Never think of it as anything else. While you play with them, your victim is helpless. Terrified. Screaming inside their heads. Begging for you to release them."

He looked out at the mountains while I stood by the grill, sweating. I wondered what would happen if I fainted. Would I fall into the grill and burn, or is his control so great that he'd still hold me in place, unconscious? I'd always respected Isaiah. He'd been a great teacher and a good friend, but today...today there was only fear.

He sighed and continued. "I used this skill on Kennet when he was my prisoner and felt no remorse. I've used it on others who've betrayed my trust, but always I've understood exactly what I was inflicting not only on them, but also myself. I raped them with my magic and each time I did, I lost a part of myself: a good part. I became less. The same thing will happen to you. Your father's soul is a hole filled only with other creatures' pain and terror. Despite your DNA, I will never allow you to take even one step in that direction."

There was sorrow in his eyes where before there'd been anger. "Put your right hand flat on the grill."

As I watched my hand move slowly toward the hot surface, I screamed in silence, my body obeying Isaiah's orders while my mind raged against it. When the first finger touched the surface, my psyche wailed and cursed, feeling every bit of the excruciating pain, yet not able to pull away. When my hand was flat on the grill, I could smell my flesh cooking as sweat poured off of me in streams. I thought I might vomit from the stench, the intense heat drying my tears before they could fall. I began shaking violently.

"Remove your hand and quickly move away." I took three fast steps, but could do nothing to heal myself, only stand, my hand throbbing with a level of pain I'd never experienced before. If he released me now, I'd pass out.

"Give me your hand." He took it gently in his and healed the charred and blistered flesh including all but one of the burns left by the grated surface. He relieved me of the worst of the pain, but not all. "Sit on the ground." I did, and that's when he released me from his control. I screamed out loud, over and over, the pent-up horror forcing its way up from my gut and out through my mouth. Finally I leaned over and collapsed face down on the grass, moaning.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Fionna arrived, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. "My spies have discovered that your mate has taken Charles to the Demon Realm!" Fionna was enraged, her eyes a solid gold to match her dress. She flicked her hand, and I was instantly chained at the wrist to the wall, the silver of each cuff burning my skin.

Despite the pain, I smiled with relief. Charlie was safe. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days, then tensed again when I realized that although Charlie was safe, Jackie was probably not. Stubbornly determined, she could very well be on her way to court right now to negotiate with this vicious witch. Shuddering at the thought, I closed my eyes and prayed that my love had gone against her impulsive nature and was at this moment safely in the DR, a contradiction in terms if ever I heard one. Still, I trusted my family in Isaiah's hands much more than in Fionna's.

Fionna was pacing the room, resplendent in a shimmering gown spun of angel hair or perhaps some other fabric just as dazzling. Born with the genes necessary to rule her people, Fionna was too narcissistic to look beyond herself and accept the truth of what she'd done. The court was unhealthy, her dark influence rotting the heart of Faerie. Many of the fae I'd seen had yellowed complexions, their veins bulging under their too-thin bodies. Some were scarred, unable to heal themselves. No chattering demi-fey flew in the hallways or fields, and I had yet to hear the sound of laughter. Some rooms were wrapped in scabrous vines that covered the windows like brown snakes, allowed to choke the life out of other vegetation. There were no flowers or fruit-bearing trees. I sensed only rot and death, helplessness and suffering.

Although her expression was calm, an edge of panic colored her next words. "I have tried to be reasonable and will afford you one more chance. You will write directly to your mate insisting that she bring your son to court."

Her fear was honest at least. She had to see what she was doing to Faerie. Did she think that Charlie could bring new life into her world? Was that the reason she wanted him? Or was it solely to protect herself when war broke out?

"No."

"I will burn you to ashes." She growled.

"If you do, you'll be forsworn. You'll be left without your power, and Caelen will take back the crown."

"I can do what I wish. I am the queen." I'd heard that line before from the mouth of another female, only Eleanor had proclaimed, "
I can do what I wish because I am your maker.

I tried another approach. "Caelen explained to me once that more than anyone else in Faerie, the king or queen must keep faith with The Balance. Your court and your people are weak. They look to you for strength and guidance. Naberia will attack soon. Shouldn't you be preparing them for war?"

Anger made her features ugly. "Half-bloods and demons cannot defeat my people." She placed a hand on my neck, sending excruciating pain like a stream of razors cutting through muscle and bone. I cried out and she stopped. "You will write to your mate."

I lifted my face to meet her black gaze. "I'm prepared to die, Fionna. Charles will never set foot in your court."

"He will." Her hand drifted toward my neck once more. "Death is not what I have in mind for you, vampire, but you will wish for it."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Half an hour later, I was still sitting on the grass where I'd collapsed, my back pressed against a tree, my body still shaking, although to a lesser degree. Isaiah sat nearby looking concerned, although he knew enough not to try to touch me. I couldn't bring myself to look at him for longer than a few seconds, let alone speak to him. I couldn't even yell at him in anger. I understood logically that I'd asked him to control me, to hurt me, but I couldn't forgive the reality of what he'd done. I felt violated. Betrayed by a trusted teacher and friend.

The worst wasn't the burned hand, although I'd never felt pain that intensely before. The worst was being cut off from my magic, left totally vulnerable to attack. My protective shields had disappeared along with every other means I had to defend myself. Isaiah had full control of every muscle in my body, leaving me only the part of my brain that held my consciousness and pain receptors.

And if I was being honest, the truly worst thing was that I'd tried to do this to Isaiah. I was shamed beyond words.

It was rape. My birth father did this to my mom, believing that he was justified in turning a strongly independent female into a rag doll to use however he liked. Would that be me one day? I rubbed my arms to restore some circulation into my icy cold flesh.

"Call your dagger." Isaiah whispered.

"Why?" I snapped. "You wanna make me stab myself in the eye?"

"Just call it." I did. It shone with gold and orange and emerald as I clutched it with my unburned hand.

"Now what?" I hissed in anger.

"Would you like to have a go? I won't fight back, unless you mean to kill me." He held out his right hand, sorrow plain on his face.

I looked closely at him for the first time and my anger drained away. There was a horrible sadness mirrored in his features. Taking over my mind and ordering me to burn myself had forced him to go to a place he hated. And it was my fault. I'd done this to him.

I took in a calming breath, finally understanding what he'd sacrificed for me. "No, I asked you to do it. I didn't get how it felt to have someone take away your will and your magic. Now I do."

My hand was no longer sore, my healing magic having kicked in as soon as he'd freed me. I examined it closely, noticing that one thin scar remained. It lined up along the bottom of my four fingers, just above my palm.

My dagger lay discarded where I'd dropped it on the grass. He moved closer, drawing his from its sheath and laying it across mine. "In wartime, along with our more traditional weapons," he gestured toward the daggers, "fae and demon alike use whatever magic is available to them. You're gifted, or perhaps cursed, with a rare ability that can do great harm to others and to yourself." He ran a finger along my new scar. "This will remind you that it should never be used without prudent deliberation, because the consequences will alter you."

"I could become like him." The thought terrified me as much Isaiah's
lesson
.

"I think it to be impossible. You are emotionally stable and usually show great compassion and empathy. Yet, if you use this power indiscriminately, who knows?"

I met his gaze. "I'm going to kill him. I know you say I should wait, but..." I choked back a sob and turned away, embarrassed. "My mom..."

"He deserves to die. But you must promise me something."