The Dream Crafter (34 page)

The male looked unconvinced, but his stance softened, even as he uttered one final warning. “It is a gamble to leave a Dream Crafter alive in these times.”

“Living in this world is a gamble, even for the gods.” Fallon’s gaze was direct, challenge in every battle-ready line. “If you want to stop rolling the dice, let’s call Reign and offer him the Realms, no war attached.”

“Peace, Dragon Slayer.” That small movement of humor crossed his face again, a smile alighting his face for a quick moment. “I believe it is a mistake, but I am willing to follow your lead. For now.”

Tenro simmered down, and the tension left Fallon’s frame. “You are great and wise and generous. I am thankful for your boon.”

He waved a hand, dismissing her exaggerated praise with another flash of smile. “It is unnerving hearing such words from you. Perhaps a little less next time would be more believable.”

“Sorry, thought that’s what went on in those temples all day. Wanted to make you feel right at home.”

The swordswoman turned, but before she could take the first step toward the departing group, Cashric spoke again. “Don’t you find it too convenient the events that put the Dream Crafter on her path? What set the authorities to her door at the perfect time?”

The overhead light from the lamppost cast jagged shadows on Fallon’s face as she looked back over her shoulder. “Me investigating coincidences usually leads to one of two doors, and since I’m not in the mood to deal with either of them, I’ll let this one lay.” Fallon dipped her head in parting. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple matters to get wrapped up.”

‡

“W
hen you assholes
letting me out? I got a business to run, ya know?” Hadrien kicked at the thick door, as he had been doing on and off since he brought to this place. The room was nice, furnished for some amount of comfort, complete with bathroom, small kitchen, and TV. He’d been given food supplies at regular intervals, but otherwise had been left alone.

Though there was worse captivity, cabin fever was burning through his body at a constant rate, and the lack of any harm to his person had made him mouthier than what was wise given the circumstances.

“Mother
fuckers
.” He kicked the door harder, and then began swearing a fiery storm as this kick shoved sharp pain through his foot and up his leg. He bent double, grabbing at his toe and half-hopping to the nearest chair.

As he sat there rubbing his foot, a scuffle sounded outside his door, a man’s half-shouted “What are–” stopped in mid-sentence. Hadrien stayed stock still, a small animal listening for the predator.

The door swung open in violent motion, and Merc stood there, his foot lowering back to the ground after kicking in the door. “Come on,” he said, tone low but forceful, and grabbed Hadrien, pulling him down a long corridor and toward a hole that had been created in the wall.

Merc pulled him hard, leaving Hadrien no choice but to keep up, and threw him into the passenger side of a waiting car before getting into the driver’s side and pulling away from the house, the tires squealing with the too fast action required of them.

“Holy
shit
, how did you find me?” Adrenaline was pouring through his system, his body shaking and heartbeat too loud in his ears.

Merc ignored the question, and responded instead, keeping his eyes on the road, “As much as I would’ve liked to let you stay a guest with the Blackguard, we have business to conclude.”

Hadrien tipped his head back and laughed. And this is why he was still alive. He kept his ass covered and fuck anyone who said he was doing it wrong. Screw that shit. He needed to do it more.

With Merc, he could. Now that the initial bound had taken place, it would be easy to keep the mercenary on a short leash. His own pet mercenary, how about that? There’d be nothing denied him.

Half-formed fantasies of his future good life were still filling his head as Merc pulled up to non-descript house that looked like every other house in the suburban landscape. “Out. This is one of my hideaways. I’ll give you the book, and from here you can disappear to wherever the bidding is. I assume you have a timed transport cast on you already?”

Of course. Hadrien glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes before he got pulled away, but plenty of time to get the Spellbook and cast the next bind on Merc. That was something he also had at the ready.

They went into the house, with Merc leading Hadrien into an inner room without any windows. The Spellbook was waiting on the table. Merc picked it up and glanced over at the ticking clock, counting seconds, and before the clock struck the hour, grabbed Hadrien’s hand and forced it on the book.

It was the same feeling he’d gotten as a kid, when he tied a string too tight and left it too long on his finger. It was a moment of pain, a release of pressure, then almost like his skin groaned in relief to be free.

Merc was glancing down at his own hands, and Hadrien would make sure he’d never find out what it felt like on the other side of a bound release. Looking up, Merc met his eyes again. “Too bad I’m not going to be the one giving you what you deserve, but that was one of the things we negotiated.”

“Negotiated? What the fuck you talkin’ about?” Smug prick. Hadrien would have Merc kneeling before him, maybe on slivers of glass.

“Though I didn’t fight it too hard. When it’s a choice between beating the shit out of you or making love to my wife on our beach, the only thing I could say was I wanted a recording of whatever they end up doing.”

Warmth suffused Hadrien, and with that signal of magic, Hadrien was transported to a back room overlooking the larger auction room, all located within a restricted club whose clientele were already arriving, excited by the possibility of obtaining the book.

“I am disappointed. I had thought Dorus would have more sense than to align himself with your ilk.” An Asian man stepped forward from the shadows wearing what looked like a robe, but fuck if the man didn’t make it look like he was wearing all the king’s jewels. Hadrien took a step back from the menace the man projected, though all the man did was look into the larger room to observe the faces of those sitting in wait for the auction.

A hand on his shoulder, and Merc sidled next to him. “How?” It was all Hadrien could get out before Merc grabbed the book and disappeared.

Oh shit, oh fuck
and it was time to
go
and Hadrien stepped back to feel rough, sharp stone against his back and he was in a cell, stone walls and a closed wooden door. An Asian woman all in white stepped in front of him and placed her hand against him, pressing one finger against a spot on his chest.

Pain exploded through his body, forcing him on the ground as sobs sounded from his throat.

Through slitted eyelids, there came the approach of sandaled feet, the shoes the kind he would see on old samurai movies. “Hadrien.” The voice was above him, the same man from earlier. “I have questions, and you
will
answer me.”

‡

T
aneasha sat in
the lone wooden chair in the otherwise empty room, arms crossed over her chest and leg jerking in place.

Room. More like a dungeon. No windows, concrete floor, bare walls. Since that night when she’d been grabbed from the vampires and separated from Miss Miller, she’d been stuck here in a cell for gods knows how long, but tonight, an elf had dragged her down here with no explanation. So now she sat, waiting.
Jerks.

From the far wall the loud
bang
that signaled a door being opened, and in walked the redheaded woman from that night, the one who seemed to be in charge of it all. She was wearing that sword, the one Taneasha dreamed of, swinging at her in nightmares that had her screaming herself awake.

The woman locked eyes with her, and inside she was frozen, trapped, a hare under the sharp gaze of an eagle, unable to move even if stillness meant her eventual end.

The redhead turned her head, breaking eye contact, and sensation returned to Taneasha’s limbs. “We’ve never been formally introduced. My name is Fallon.” Fallon looked her over in two quick glances, her attitude smug superiority. “How are you faring, Taneasha?”

Hard on the heels of that fear, anger burbled inside, crowding out the last remnants of shame of how she had been so pathetic only a moment before. Taneasha shouted out, “You can’t
keep me
here! I’m just a kid and I made a mistake. You’re not allowed to
kidnap
me and I want to go
home
!”

Fallon walked around the room, unhurried movement and not looking at her, instead looking at the bare walls. “It’s nice to have wants. Afraid, though, that in this case…I don’t think it’s happening.”

“I
told
you, it was a mistake. My mom and dad will get me out.”

Fallon’s head turned to her, and Taneasha’s chest went concave under the force of those gold eyes. She’d seen eyes like that before, the
only
time she’d seen her master bow his head to someone. Frightening eyes. Scary eyes.

Those eyes only held hers for a moment, but Taneasha gulped in breath when Fallon turned away and began to speak again. “You have strange ideas of what a kid is allowed to get away with. As for your mom and dad, they may want you out, but again, it’s not happening. You were in the company of necromancers. Under no law are you going to get free.”

Pull it together
. Okay, this wasn’t working. Another tact was called for. Putting on her most contrite face, she said, “Listen, I’m sorry. I was misled, and they used my ignorance against me. I see that now, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to make up for my actions.”

Fallon’s face was bland as she nodded. “Glad to hear it. You’re going to be making it up here, in these rooms, for a
very
long time.”

Here came the anger from being locked up, and being jerked around, and she was
tired
of it. She exploded, pointing her finger at Fallon in sharp, jerky movements, “Listen you
fucking
bitch, I’m not staying here for another
gods
damn minute-”

Fallon pulled free her sword, stepping towards her. Taneasha threw her hands up, backing away until she hit the wall, and next to her ear a
wshhh
and Fallon’s hand on her shoulder, holding her against the wall.

She stayed where she was, but after long moments of nothing else happening, Taneasha lowered her arms.

Fallon’s face was inches from hers, rage in every line of her face. Taneasha shifted her eyes to the left, where that huge sword was not even an inch away from her face, and it was now, after the delay, her cheek began to sting, a warm wetness running down the side of her face.

Blood. Blood…and the sword. She…

She cut me…

The blade sank deep into the wall, the metal radiating cold against her skin, Fallon’s eyes radiating cold scant inches from her own. With a slow, deliberate movement, Fallon brushed the tip of her forefinger against her cheek, pressing in enough for Taneasha to feel the bite, before the swordswoman pulled her finger away, holding up that finger so Taneasha could see the smear of blood.

Now Fallon spoke again, no humor in her voice. “You took a woman who cared for you, and you gave her to necromancers, knowing what they were going to do to her.” The drop of blood dripped down the swordswoman’s finger and disappeared beneath the cuff of her jacket. “If it was up to me, I’d shove this sword through your chest and be well rid of you,
kid
or not.”

The sword shifted against her cheek, metal brushing against her, and Fallon continued. “Kid.
Right.
All I see is a necromancer wannabe, and to me there is no reason why I should let you go when I’ve killed
hundreds
of your kind. Now, do you think this is my version of scaring you to straighten you out, or do you believe I mean every word I’ve said?”

Shivers wracked Taneasha’s body with Fallon’s gaze trained on hers, death the only emotion lurking in those eyes. Her throat closing, she forced out the word, fought against the suffocation.
“Believe.”