Beyond Everlight: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Fearless Destiny Book 1) Page 12

  I hated it, and I would rather be dead.

  “Fuck you Erebus.”

  Do it. Fucking kill me. End it. I searched his face for that murderous spark, but instead found something that looked suspiciously like admiration. There was no time to analyse it any further, because I was whipped off my feet and slung over his back like a sack of potatoes.

  For a moment I was too stunned to react, and by the time I did, beating my fists against his back and demanding that he release me, the world around us was disintegrating, shattering into a multitude of colours and shapes, and I was completely undone. I was nothing, and I was everything. Disconnected to any singular location and yet connected to every material atom in the universe.

  The moment was all too fleeting. I came together on a soft mattress, Erebus looming over me with blazing eyes. The room was three times the size of my room at home; decorated in bland dark colours and rich fabric, with a floor to ceiling window leading onto a balcony. It was a luxurious space, so why the heck was I here?

  My brows snapped down. “What are you doing?”

  Instead of making a move toward me, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.

  I scrambled off the bed and stumbled after him. “Wait!” But he was already gone, the door slamming closed behind him.

  I reached for the handle, twisting it to no effect.

  I was locked in.

  CHAPTER21

  T he room was lit by oil lamps attached to the wall. There was a cute little fireplace complete with mantel and a poker stand. I had an en suite bathroom, a huge empty wardrobe, and a king size bed covered in expensive looking sheets. But, despite the luxury, I think I would have begun to feel a little claustrophobic if not for the balcony. The glassless windows, hinged with shutters, pulled back to allow the gauzy drapes to billow in the breeze, giving the room an air of openness. The sky beyond was dark and pinpricked with stars. I stepped onto the balcony and gazed out at the part of Evernight laid out far below me. The fortress had to be at least twenty stories high and was perched on the edge of a cliff which overlooked a vast expanse of nothingness . . . No, not nothingness, there were things . . . creatures, moving around in clusters down there. I stepped up to the waist high stone barrier, serving as the balcony railing, to get a better look.

  Evernight was a mostly barren land, with the odd outcrop of boulders or the lone copse of dead looking trees. There was life down there though, the kind of life that would take yours in a heartbeat. But there was also beauty in the form of clusters of white blooms that grew at the base of boulders, or wound their way over the blackened tree corpses. It was as if nature refused to quit, even here in the darkest of places where the sun never shone. I looked up to the moon—a silver disc wreathed in an eerie shadow—its anaemic fingers barely reaching the world below. Something snake-like scuttled out from the shadows thrown by a tall outcrop of rocks. It wound its way toward a copse of trees vanishing into darkness once again.

  I shuddered, suddenly grateful for this room high up in the fortress.

  Something scraped against stone and my gut whispered in alarm. I froze and listened. The scraping came again, followed by the sound of wet panting. The back of my neck pricked. The smart thing to do was to retreat to the safety of my room, but like those dim-witted characters in the old slasher movies, I let the stupidity gene take control and gripped the balcony to lean over and look down.

  Orange orbs ringed in red glared up at me, a wide slash of a mouth filled with shattered glass for teeth snapped up at me. A scream tore a path up my throat exploding into the night air with violence. Fall back, dammit. Move! But I was rooted to the spot.

  The monstrous creature moved quickly, hooking its talons into convenient crevices in the fortress’s outer walls. Its dark hairy haunches bulged and twitched. It was seven metres below me.

  Another scream was trapped in my throat. What the hell was wrong with me?

  It paused, talons hooked tight and then it leapt, hurtling toward me.

  My scream ripped through the silence and was answered by a roar. A huge, grey, winged creature hit the monster from the side, grasping it in claws twice the size of my head and shaking it until it yelped. My paralysis broke, and I stumbled away from the balcony railing and back into my room. Fumbling with the shutters with trembling hands, I tried to get them closed. Awful wet shredding sounds accompanied by shrill inhuman screams filled the air, and still I couldn’t get the shutters shut tight.

  And then the sounds stopped.

  The beat of wings.

  A gust of air.

  The thud of something landing on my balcony.

  Oh, god, it was the winged thing. It had torn the other beast to shreds and now it was coming for me. It was coming for me, but I would not go down without a fight.

  I scanned the room for something . . . anything that I could use as a weapon.

  The poker by the fireplace!

  Gripping it like a baseball bat, I was ready to swing. Ready to fight.

  A shadow fell across the floor by the windows and then a soft voice called out. “It’s alright miss, you come out now. Fargol gots the monster. You is safe.”

  Was there someone else out there with the winged creature?

  “I understands miss, Fargol’s monstrous visage sets your tiny heart beating with fear. Fargol will leave you be. No fear. South side is Fargol’s domain. No foul creature breach Fargol’s defences.”

  I lowered the poker and took a couple of steps toward the balcony. Through the gaps in the partially closed shutters I caught a glimpse of the speaker—the stony, grey, winged creature. He looked familiar . . . He looked like a huge gargoyle!

  They were listed in the Otherworld Denizen Handbook, but as an unknown entity. They’d been spotted in the human world on several occasions but never reported as doing any harm. In fact, some people believed them to be protectors of the weak, and this one had just saved my life!

  “Fargol leave you be.” He flexed his enormous stony wings, preparing for flight.

  “Wait!” I pulled back the shutters and stepped out onto the balcony.

  He paused and turned his head to face me. Even hunched over he was easily ten feet tall, his body was a wall of muscle with the hind body of a big cat and the upper body of a body-builder. His hands were lethal claws, and his face was a nightmare. But his eyes were all too human and filled with gentleness. If not for those eyes I would have run screaming back into the room.

  “Thank you for saving my life.”

  He glanced at the poker in my hand and then smiled, baring blunt square teeth. “Fargol best be off now. Must keep to patrol. If you is needing Fargol just call on the wind for Fargol and Fargol be here.”

  “I’m Kenna, by the way.”

  I’m not sure he heard me over the beat of his magnificent wings.

  ***

  I took my time with the shutters after that, making sure they were locked tight. Fargol said he patrolled the area, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The thought of what could have happened to me if he hadn’t shown up in time was enough motivation to take the poker to the bed with me. Feeling defenceless took some getting used to. I’d always had Frieda to light the darkness, to fight the beasts, and now I had . . . a poker.

  I held it up. “I name thee . . . um . . . Bertha.” Yeah, Bertha was a good no nonsense name.

  I pulled back the covers and crawled onto the bed, unbuckled my prosthetic and placed it to one side. My skin looked red and sore, but it didn’t hurt as badly as I’d expect it to after all the activity. Bertha clutched to my chest, I attempted sleep. Tomorrow was an uncertainty. How long would Erebus let me live?

  ***

  I awoke with a start, the Hat Man’s shadow visage imprinted on my mind’s eye, his mocking laughter echoing in my ears. The room was black as pitch—someone had put out the lamps. I lay completely still, battling to steady my nightmare nerves, to force my erratic breaths into steady even ones. Bertha was a reassuring presence in my hands a
nd I gripped her tighter. My body was screaming at me to act, to run or fight, because there was something in the room with me.

  Long minutes ticked by and then a shadow at the side of my bed shifted.

  I threw back the covers, sat up and swung Bertha in its direction. I made contact with a jarring thud that reverberated up my arms and elicited a surprised yelp from the invader. I pulled back, ready to swing again but the shadow was too quick. It rushed around the bed and across the room. The sound of the door opening and closing was followed by a surge of light as all the lamps miraculously flared back to life.

  The end of the poker was smeared with blood. Good. Let them come. I may not have Frieda but I was far from defenceless. Snuggling back down with Bertha, I closed my eyes. I’d battled a shadow with a poker! My heart fluttered with a hollow light feeling. For the first time since I’d lost my leg, I felt truly alive.

  CHAPTER22

  M orning arrived without further incident. I awoke to a grumbling stomach and a soft breath on my cheek. Gripping Bertha tighter, I opened my eyes, ready to attack, but the room was empty.

  Pushing back the covers, I reached for my leg. Strange, I’d been so sure I’d felt a presence. Not ominous and scary like the one last night but merely curious. I glanced at the shutters—locked up tight. My stomach grumbled. It was time to leave my lovely prison. The door may be locked, but I’d hammer on it and scream for as long as it took to get someone’s attention.

  My clothes were a mess from my dip in the pool, but the armoire contained women’s clothes: slacks, polo shirts, underwear, and even a dress or two. Dressing quickly, I headed for the exit. To my surprise the handle turned easily and the door opened with a soft snick.

  I found myself in a narrow corridor lit by wall lamps. The walls were brick and mortar, and the ground smooth wooden flooring. To one side was an archway with a staircase visible beyond it, and the other was an endless corridor. This was my chance to explore, get my bearings, but the instinct was waylaid by the scent of bacon. At least I thought it was bacon, it could have been some other kind of meat—I was in Evernight after all—but I liked the idea of bacon best. My stomach demanded I follow the delicious aroma.

  I took a few steps in the direction of the arch and the smell intensified.

  Sod it, I was hungry and I had a poker.

  There were two sets of stairs. I took the downward flight following the smell, which brought me to a carpeted floor with fancy chandelier lighting and heavy tapestries of Aztec-like patterns hanging on the walls. It was a far cry from the corridor I’d been housed on. This was three times the width only a fraction of the length. A set of tall wooden doors set in another arch cut off my view of what lay beyond, but the doors were slightly ajar. I pressed up against the wood, and peeked through the gap.

  The room beyond was obviously used for dining. There was a table large enough to seat at least fifteen people. I couldn’t see much more through the gap, just enough to know that it was a cosy looking space and that the table was occupied by three figures—two of Erebus’s sidekicks, the red-haired ones, and Erebus himself. He looked as forbidding and formidable as always, his lips turned down as he listened to whatever his sidekicks were saying. I strained to hear, but couldn’t make out more than a murmur.

  Ripples of air threaded their fingers through my hair. What the—?

  Hands cupped my shoulders holding me in place. “You want to know what they’re saying?”

  The voice was deep enough to be masculine but melodious enough to be feminine. I waited for the flare that would tell me to fight, but it never came, instead my muscles relaxed and I found myself nodding.

  A chuckle blew across the top of my head. “Well, let’s see. Baron, the red-haired djinn with the cocky tilt to his mouth, is pointing out that you’re dangerous because you can understand the language of the djinn, while Aidan, the other red-haired djinn with the heavy brows, is pointing out how you are dangerous because you’re immune to the pool of dreams. And Samson, the dark-haired one just out of view, is adding that you look like the violent type. Vale is holding his peace as usual.”

  “And Erebus? What does he think?”

  The voice sighed. “Erebus tends to keep his cards close to his chest, but the fact that you’re still alive tells me that he is intrigued by you.”

  Intrigued. Yes, I was intrigued too. I twisted out of my eavesdropper’s grip and turned to face him . . . her . . . um . . . My gaze dropped to the speaker’s chest. Male or unfortunate female? On closer inspection of his features I was leaning toward male.

  “My name is Sabriel.”

  “Kenna.”

  “I know who you are,” his lips curled in a soft smile that made my chest feel light. His eyes, the clearest blue I had ever seen, looked down on me with something akin to tenderness. He was dressed in a simple white cotton shirt and pants to match. “You must be famished, come.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, pushed open the door, and steered me into the room.

  The murmur of conversation stopped and four pairs of eyes latched on to me. I faltered but the gentle pressure of Sabriel’s hand kept me moving.

  “Our guest is hungry,” Sabriel said.

  Baron, one of the red-haired djinn leaned forward. “She is a prisoner, not a guest.”

  Samson, the dark-haired djinn with his back to the door, turned in his chair to face us. “She poses too many questions and we should end her now.” His dark eyes flashed, and I zeroed in on the small cut on his forehead.

  Bertha’s mark.

  Erebus was silent, his gaze speculative. Until now I’d kind of accepted that I might die. I’d been ready for it when I’d agreed to be tithe, but then I’d pulled myself from a pool filled with humans, climbed a crazy high staircase to see an amazing flame, survived an orange eyed monster, met a gargoyle, and fended off a shadow with a poker. The familiar fire of survival—the one that had filled my veins as I’d hacked off my leg—was back.

  I wanted to live.

  Standing tall I locked eyes with the dark-eyed djinn. “It’s easy to sense violence in someone when you’ve been clocked on the head with a poker by them.” I tilted my head. “Maybe if you didn’t sneak around a lady’s room in the dark then you wouldn’t get hurt.”

  He blinked, and reached up to touch the cut on his head before turning to Erebus. “See, she sees too much!”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means that my wound is under a glamour, you shouldn’t be able to . . .” his eyes widened. “Wait a moment, what do you see when you look at us?”

  Shit. I took a step back but Sabriel’s grip on my hand tightened. He threw back his head and laughed. The sound was a melody that swelled to fill the room and lifted my spirits.

  Samson’s eyes narrowed to slits. “It isn’t funny.”

  Sabriel sobered. “Oh, but it is my friend. It’s just what you need—a reminder that even you are not infallible. Our guest obviously has some Twilighter genes, which is hardly surprising considering the inbreeding that occurred in the first couple of decades after our worlds meshed.” He shrugged. “Maybe instead of advocating her demise, you should be thinking of ways in which she may prove useful.”

  Samson’s gaze shifted back to me, and this time there was more than a hint of consideration in those obsidian depths. I was too busy turning over Sabriel’s words. Twilighter genes? Could it be? It would explain how mum knew Lauren. Was he a relative? A family friend of a great, great grand-something? I wish I knew more about our family tree, I wished I’d asked more questions.

  “Different doesn’t necessarily mean dangerous, Samson,” the dark-haired djinn sitting opposite Samson said.

  Vale, I think. Well at least one of Erebus’s henchmen was on my side.

  Samson’s lips curled and he averted his gaze, offering me his aquiline profile.

  “So, can we get an extra plate?” Sabriel said.

  I glanced at Erebus, but he was staring at the table. “Set a place,” he said softly.


  Samson pressed his lips together.

  A door to my far right burst open and a slender man carrying a tray glided in. He wasn’t djinn and his long hair was covering his ears so I couldn’t tell if he was a Twilighter—he had the colouring of one, which reminded me—I studied Sabriel’s ears; definitely not a Twilighter.

  The slender man popped the tray next to Vale, and Sabriel led me around the table and pulled out the seat. I should have felt intimidated by all the djinn around me, but the tray before me was laden with eggs, bacon, and fried bread, and my stomach took the driver’s seat. Ignoring the djinn, I shovelled food into my mouth like there was no tomorrow, because face it, there may not be for me. The only sound in the room for the next few minutes was the sound of my munching.

  “So Erebus, what do you intend to do with our lovely guest?” Sabriel asked.

  Erebus snorted. “Our guest? This is not your home Sabriel.”

  “Ouch! And I thought we’d gotten past all the unpleasantness.”

  A low rumble filled the room; it cut through my hunger and pierced my chest with a strange longing. I stopped shovelling and looked down the table at the source of the sound. Erebus stopped chuckling and caught my eye. His silver gaze was too penetrating, too invasive. I focused my attention back on my plate, but my appetite for food was gone, replaced by a longing for something I didn’t quite comprehend.

  “She can stay until the next tithe and then she can go back to her world,” Erebus said.

  “What?” Samson was on his feet. “After what she’s seen? After what she knows?”

  Erebus went deathly still.

  Sabriel muttered. “Oh, dear.”

  Beside me Vale dropped his head in his hands, just as Samson threw back his head and screamed. It was an excruciating sound that, thank goodness, was cut off when Samson abruptly vanished.