Shadows of the Keeper (28 page)

“Keer’dra!”

Emily stared down her enemy. 
Eyes, unwavering, glowed molten amber.  Even her hair flamed and crackled
white fire.  She reached out, crooking her fingers, beckoning the
guard.  “Come to me.”  She smiled evilly, her voice husky, as if
offering a dalliance.

The jailor hesitated.  If Dezenial
hadn’t been so caught up in the Spinners being witness to Emily’s
power—plotting how to stop them before they could scuttle away and get word to
Drakar that The Keeper was indeed in his custody—he’d have laughed.  Like
him, the guard knew no human was beholden to such power. 

And
, Emily was naked. 

He saw the jailor lick his cracked
lips.  With a roar, Dezenial used the last of his strength to lung at the
beast . . . just as the guard lunged at Emily.

Dezenial collapsed into oblivion.

Emily dropped.  The guard grunted
towards her.  Quickly, she twisted into a crouch behind his shins. 
As she rose, two large orifices of blue flame bloomed from her palms.  The
grotesque creature arched.  His screams deafened.  Fire blazed from thighs to neck. 
Matted hair curled and melted, his flesh sloughing from his skull.  The
more he beat at the flames, the more they fanned to life.  His hands melted
into nubs.   

Emily snapped free of her trance.

Flame extinguished from her
hands.  Her nemesis toppled, his body coiling into black leather. 
Emily buckled.  Coherency of pain resumed.  Her back seared.  Her
mind blinked. 

Dezenial
. 

Forcing her arms to work, she
dragged herself to him.  Gasping, crying out, she rolled him over and
collapsed on his chest.  His blood saturated her.  She muttered for
death to take her as well. 
Maybe I’ll die before they discover I’ve
killed one of their pigs.
  Their retribution, she knew, would be the
final act succeeding in sending her into irreversible psychosis.  Awful
stench of burning flesh swamped the already decayed air they suffered. 

As seen in movies, she traced her
fingers along Dezenial’s collarbone until feeling where a pulse should
be.  Nothing.  Broc claimed she’d healed Aedan.  Squeezing her
eyes closed, she tried like hell to conjure a power she lacked control over. 
No tightening or tingling of nape occurred.  Resignedly, her eyes lazed
open.  “I can’t save you.  I think I’m spent,” she whispered. 
And
so tired
.  Tremors racked her.

Voices barked.  Chaos of running
feet and . . . chains?

“Once they see what I’ve done, we
won’t be special prisoners anymore.”  Her eyes crawled across the floor,
her head too heavy to lift, searching for the blade the guard had killed
Dezenial with. 
No, no, no!  He’s not dead
!

Shouts grew closer.  Emily’s
lids were too heavy to keep open.  Maybe they’d be swift about it. 
No, Dez had said they thrived on torture.  Knife.  She needed to . .
. retrieve . . .

Something heavy thudded next to
her.  Vaguely, she was aware of opening one of her eyes.  Screams
would have pealed throughout the cavern, save for the sticky hand clamping down
across her mouth.

“Land-dweller, make a sound, you
cannot.”  Hands clasped under her bared knees, under her shoulders, while
another seemed to hover over her body, everywhere at once.  Webbing began
wrapping her from ankles to breasts, though her arms remained unbound.  She
wanted to fight them, but was too weak to care.  The warmth of being cocooned
made her even more lethargic.  Sensation of floating followed.  Too exhausted
to protest, she watched Dezenial receive the same treatment.  He was parallel
with her, both of them hoisted at dizzying speeds into the abyss of
darkness.  Were they being taken to Drakar?  She writhed.  Oh
God, were they being taken as a meal?! She crazed.

“I will drop you.  Still your
twitching, or I sting.”

Emily froze.  Envisioning the
size pinchers these freaky creatures had, her mind knocked on insanity’s
door.  “Where are—“

“Silence,” the voice hissed so
close, her ear steamed from its vaporous breath.  “Enemies arrive.”

Slid into a narrow opening, she
couldn’t see below her.  With unexpected gentleness, she was laid atop a
squishy surface.  Did Dezenial receive the same treatment?  Her back
blazed.  Squishy surface, or her own blood?  Her eyes weighed a
ton.  Warmth.  How had bone-numbing chill become suffocating? 
Quick shake of her head. 
Must remain awake
.  Warmth meant she
was being lulled to her death. 
Actually, is that so bad
?  Her
teeth resumed chattering.  She tried moving her legs.  Mummy-wrapped.
Gingerly, afraid she was about to feel sticky ick of webbing, she probed the
substance cocooning her.  Surprised, her fingers instead caresses a
texture similar to soft wool.  And, warm. 

Shouting.

Emily jumped.  Orange-yellowy
light flickered above her, offering a miniscule view of her surroundings. 
Akin to being in a rock coffin.  She’d never be able to stand.  She
was being dragged away to a lair.  Hissing sounded again, right beside
her.  Firelight snuffed.  It was even more dark than minutes
earlier.  A door slammed.  Keys jangled.  They locked an empty
prison room?  She was lifted again.  Lucidity floated somewhere
beyond vision.  She inhaled deeply, held her breath and finally released
it, hoping to remain conscious. 

“I’m bleeding.”

“We are aware the food we do
without.”

Emily grimaced.  “Where are
you taking us?  You’re bringing Dezenial too, right?  You can’t just
leave him.”  She was an inferno.  She had to get out of this
cocoon!  “I can’t breathe.”  She wriggled.

“A prisoner, you are not.  Be
still before we forget this.  Your twitching salivates my fangs.”

Several long moments passed before
Emily remembered to breathe.  The thought of becoming their dinner
terrified her more than any torture a Lumynari could dream up.  Odd noises
filtered through to her senses.  Like bricks rubbed together. 
Spinner laughter.  It was an awful thing to hear.  Gritting her
teeth, she tried to remain as stiff and still as possible.  It also helped
her to keep from screaming.  They traveled what felt like a long bend
before her body dipped slightly, a steep descent now their route.

“Please . . . my back.  A
break.  Just for a moment.”

“Your eyes, they must close or we
can cover your head.”

“I can’t see anyway, so it’s not
like I’ll show someone where you live.”

“The drop will make you scream.”

“You’re going to
drop
me?!”  Emily clobbered the creature holding her arms.  Vicious
hissing and gurgling made her quickly cover her face and scrunch her shoulders
against her neck, terrified they bite into her artery.  Hissing escalated,
sounding as if she’d stuck her head inside a beehive. 

“Your life we save.  Your
life, we’ll end, if again we must warn you to be still.  The drop will
take many of us to carry you.  Frightening to those not used to
falling.”  More brick scraping laughter filled the tight passageway.

“Please, just tell me you’re not
taking me to be a slow-eaten meal by your newly hatched.”  She was going
to scream; felt it welling up.  “God, just let me die.”

“Dezenial’s kingdom is where you
will rest.  You, we watched.  Captured and tortured, he allowed
himself to be.”

“Who?”  It dawned on her whom
they implied.  “Dezenial took that beating on
purpose
?”

“Land-dweller, your life, he
saves.”

It would seem you are in need of
my rescuing,
echoed from memory.  “Yeah, and where did it get him?
Dead.  Dead, dead, dead!”  Her anguish peaked and shattered the last
shreds of control.  Low, tortuous sobs filled the narrow tunnel.

“His blood remains warm.”

Long moments passed before Emily
cued in on what the creepy-crawly had said.  She snuffled.  “I
couldn’t save him.  I couldn’t make that light come back into my hands.”

“You killed a Sentach.  It is
enough.”

“Enough?”

Scratchy chuckling again.

“Close your eyes, Keer’dra.”

Jerking her head, she scanned dark
oblivion.  Foreign words were muttered, increasing the spookiness of being
engulfed in nothingness.  “Dez?”

Chanting filled her head.

“Please . . . please, I
beg
of you.  So . . . much pain.  My back . . . tears more.”  Words
melded into whimpers.  Her mind fogged.  Windshield wipers. 
Turn on defrost.  She blinked.  Strange thoughts.  Too
dark.  Were her eyes opened or closed?  Pain now her constant. 
Hot pokers.  Singing escalated in tempo. 
They had monks down
here?  Prisoners.  Had to be
.  Sweat beaded her brow.  “I’m
dying.”  She smiled.  “I hear voices.”  She relaxed, no longer
interested in fighting to stay awake.  “Living is . . . overrated. 
Too excruciating.  Voices.  Like monks.  Maybe . . . I’ll see
Dez . . . again.”  Emily’s body sagged.

“She passes.”

“Put . . . her down.”

Motion halted.

“Keer’dra?”

“Dezenial?”  She
whimpered.  “He’s going to . . . shoot my hands.  No.  Wait.”

“Open your eyes, Keer’dra.”

“Tired.  You father . . . says
he’ll . . . care . . .”

“Her end is here.”

“No!”  Dezenial hissed. 
Incantation spewed forth, his voice deepening, strengthening—drowning out those
others daring to chant; daring to call out to her soul. 

Emily’s neck arched.  With
great exertion, she opened her eyes.  “Dezenial?  What’s
happening?  Why are all of you chanting?  Your father . . . promises,
no more pain.”

Dezenial gazed down at his
woman.  Pitch-blackness enveloped them.  He could not leave her to
these beings.  What they had done to his wound to stop the bleeding . . .
quickly, he diverted his thoughts.  Gods did
not
shudder. 
Spinner loyalty was not synonymous with Lumynari.  They would have their
price, of this, he was sure.

The Spinner cradling Emily’s head
bobbed a few times before glassy dark eyes focused on Dezenial again. 
“You know what you must do.”

“This is no mere human to put
through the consequences of such a deed.”  Dezenial answered in
Balkorian.  He wasn’t sure which realm Emily’s mind wandered in right now,
but he hoped she wouldn’t understand their debate.  He was not pleased his
father advanced, calling to Emily, forcing his hand.

“See ourselves, the magic she
wields.  A choice, you do not possess.  Move, we must.”

“No knife.”

“Slice against our fang.”

“You think me fool?”  Taste of
blood would lead to a feeding frenzy.  The amount currently spilling from
her was already trying them.  He was not about to test their self-control
any further.

“Dez?  Chanting fades. 
Make . . . it . . . come back. The Spinners, they’ve left?  Oh God! 
We’ve been deserted!  We’re going to be left here—“

“Here, we remain,” their voices
reassured.

Visibly, she relaxed.

“Odd that she draws comfort from
you,” Dezenial remarked, studying the creature as it gently cradled Emily’s
head.  Emily’s eyes opened wide, searching for light as land-dwellers were
wont to do.  “I require light to ease her fear.  She won’t understand
what I’m about to do without it.”

“Wait, you must, for us to close
each side, or we will be seen by enemy Spinners.  Freedom slips from
us.  Hurry your endeavor when I give word.”

Something slipped into Dezenial’s
hand.  A knife.  Soft light bloomed in the tunnel.  He had mere
seconds to take in his miniscule surroundings.  “How far to my region?”

“Be still, she be, several hours
the way we know, the way of no Lumynari or the others hunting you.”

Dezenial nodded.  “Remove your
webbing you’ve cradled her in.  Keer’dra?”  He inched closer. 

She tore her gaze from the
frightful sight looming over her, wondering if the creature had finally decided
to have a taste.  “Dezenial?  Dez?”  She covered her mouth,
turning her face away, sobbing.  Gently, he cupped her face, returning her
gaze to lock with his.  “It isn’t easy, making this choice for you, but if
I don’t do this, you won’t live.  You’ve lost too much blood,
Keer’dra.  Do you understand what I’m telling you?”  Never again
would her face be so battered as the past two times he’d seen her in the
flesh.  What had happened to the guard?  Had the Spinners sated their
ferocious appetite? 

“You look sad,” she muttered. 
“What are you going to do?  Please, Dez, don’t hurt me.”

Only his Emily would take such
liberties with his name. Never, in over nine-thousand years of living, had
anyone dared. 

“Please, no more pain.  Don’t
hurt me—“

Warm fingers slipped over her
mouth.  Though he spoke to Emily, his gaze locked and held the apparent
leader of newly acquired allies.  “Ancient magicks of the gods. 
Forbidden.”  Yet, these creatures had known he possessed it.  “How
long have you spied?”  He didn’t wait for an answer.  “I’m going to
share blood with you, Keer’dra.” 

“Share . . .
blood
?” 
She swallowed.  “Transfusion, right?  Tell me . . . you’re talking
about—you have fangs.  Jesus, I’m in . . . purgatory.”  She closed
her eyes.  “Death comes.  I feel it.”  Faint smile touched her
lips.  “Says his name . . . Hades.  He has ermine . . .
blankets.  Promises . . . no pain.  Calls you . . . “ Emily
frowned.  “Fool.”

“Keer’dra?”

Eye movement behind closed lids
ceased.  Dezenial, non-too gently, rolled her over.  Their time had
run out.  He slashed away bloodied webbing.  And averted his gaze.

Vicious infection left her back
nothing more than flayed, puckering, rotting flesh.  It wasn’t blood loss
killing her.  It was blood
infection
!

“Drakar will craze over her
escape.  More Lumynari swarm to find her.  You must perform the deed
now!”

What he was about to do would
change his path forever.  And Emily’s.  Rapidly, ancient words fell
from his lips.  Hades’ laughter echoed, only Dezenial hearing the god as
he sailed away from Emily, roaring rapids of Styx carrying him back to his
realm.  Seven-thousand years earlier, Hades had warned that Dezenial would
call upon power—call upon his birthright. 

But, there would be a price. 

He would be bonded to one woman for
all time. 

And he would become the Dark Prince
he was destined to be.  Dezenial had scoffed, Lumynari never sexual with
the same partner twice.  So too, he had sneered over Hades’ further implication
that he, son of Shadow, would become a protector of mortals. 
Impossible.  He relished competing with Inzyr, how many humans they could
enslave.  The thought of ever giving a damn about their trivialities had
provided amusement for both he and the assassin.  

Ancient words rapidly muttered,
Dezenial held out his arm.  To hell with penalties.  This was not
Zaiyne, nor Aurelia.  Emily touched somewhere deeper in him than either of
the previous two women she’d once been.  Sharp pointed tip of blade
slipped easily enough into flesh of his wrist, and upon each word, slid the
length of his arm until reaching the crook.  His words drifted into
singsong chanting.  His bleeding arm hovered over Emily’s lower
back.  Strength in tone deepened, though he labored against shouting—his
life’s essence pouring into Emily. 

Daemon nectar.

Diligently, he swept the length of
her back with his bleeding arm, mere inches above her cruel wounds, until his
blood saturated her shredded flesh.  Emily had survived far worse than any
human could.

If she’d
been
human to begin
with.

Dezenial smiled.  His
Keer’dra, the hellcat—literally now.  A Spinner held her beautiful white
hair to the side, enabling him to saturate the welts upon her nape. His mantra
came to an end. 

“Closed, you will need that.”

Dezenial held out his arm, refusing
to watch.  He felt a sickening moistness slither across the cut he’d made
down his forearm.  When he pulled his arm back, a sticky substance held
his flesh bound, bloodless.

“We are bonded now,” it informed
him.  “Your blood, I have tasted.”

“I am aware your ways, but do not
look to have acquired any powers.”

“One of us, you are now.”

So
that
was their
price.  Brotherhood.  He sighed.  In the span of seconds, his
life irrevocably changed forever,
and
he owed gratitude.  He’d
never owed any.  “You may call the caves of Prim home.  I will expect
loyalty . . .
brother
, your eyes to be my ears.”

“The Assassin, you must inform.”

“He will know not to set flame to
your web.”

“Oath and gratitude given. 
She will need to be stung.”

Dezenial’s jaw ticked.  “A
small dose.  I agree, it would be better if she slumbers during our
journey.”  The being scurried to Emily’s feet.  “Do
not
hurt
her.”

“Think of it, I would not.”

Emily, unconscious, squeaked,
earning the creature a venomous scowl.