Into Evernight: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Fearless Destiny Book 2) Page 3

  Brett straightened and offered the slender man a smile before accepting the flask. “Thanks.”

  A quick swig and rinse later, and he was feeling much better.

  “Right, we best get going,” the man said. “It’s half a day ride to the palace, and I’ve got a tender lamb stew and a good fucking to look forward to when I get home tonight.” He winked and started toward a huge black carriage stationed on the winding road up ahead. “Least you’re on time. Can be awkward trying to rendezvous with you people, what with the time difference and all.”

  They reached the carriage and the man took Brett’s bag and yanked open the door. “Enjoy the ride,” he winked conspiratorially.

  “Um…. Thanks.”

  He ducked into the carriage and froze.

  A woman sat inside. Wrapped in silver silk fabric, she pouted at him in what he assumed she must think was a sexy manner.

  “Hey.” He took the seat opposite her, and the door slammed shut behind him.

  It was cosy in the carriage. Black velvet padded seats, dark crimson drapes, and a plush crimson carpet. The carriage began to move, accompanied by the clip-clop of horse’s hooves.

  The woman was staring at him, her eyes wandering over his body.

  “I’m the emissary,” he said.

  “I know who you are.”

  “Okay. And you are?”

  She licked her lips. “I’m a little travel distraction courtesy of His Majesty.”

  Travel distraction? Did she mean? Oh crap.

  She slipped her robe off her shoulders to reveal—whoa!

  He held up his hands. “Can you please … cover those up?”

  She froze. Her eyes wide. “Seriously?”

  “They’re lovely but I don’t swing that way.”

  She pulled her robe shut, cheeks flushing. “Oh, shit. He’ll have my head.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She glanced at him with glittering eyes. “The king … I’m supposed to please you.”

  “Really?” So this was the king’s way of jollying up the emissary before negotiations, was it? Poor woman looked scared out of her wits now, although it gave him an idea. “There are more ways to please a man than with your body.”

  Her brows flicked up. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Conversation. The Twilight’s a mystery to me. How about you fill me in on what it’s like living here. Can you do that?”

  “Of course.” She sat forward eagerly. “What did you want to know?”

  “Well, you could start with your name.”

  “Nadia.”

  “Pretty.” He flashed his dimple and she flushed.

  “My father named me after my grandmother. He died when I was thirteen, and then the king’s men found me.”

  “So you, what? Belong to the king?”

  She nodded. “The king likes to collect pretty things. It’s not so bad. We’re well looked after and we get the finest clothes, jewels, and the best food. All we have to do in return is bring pleasure to those he deems fit.”

  The king’s whores … His stomach turned, but he plastered a smile on his face.

  “So you must know how things work at the palace then?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the impression that sex would have been the safer option?”

  She was smart this one. “Look, I just need to know what I’m walking into. Do I need to be worried? What is your king like?”

  She sighed and leaned back. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that he’s unpredictable. He won’t harm you though, not if it would risk his negotiations with your world.”

  The undertone was clear. If not for his emissary status he would be fair game to the king. He glanced out the window, at the rolling plains of green and the azure sky above. The air smelled sweet like honey, and if he closed his eyes he could hear a melody on the breeze.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?” Nadia said. “These lands are the unclaimed. To the east you have Dawn, to the west you have Dusk, and right at the centre we have Twilight. Dawn is glorious. I visited once as a child. Papa intended to move us there, but he died before plans could be finalised. I dream of it sometimes: the tiny whitewashed cottages, the tang of the sea, and the golden palace rising up to touch the clear blue sky. Summer reigns in Dawn. People are … happy.”

  “And Dusk?”

  She shrugged “I’ve never been, but it’s probably not much different from Twilight since our king has the Dusk monarch in his pocket.” Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in horror. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Brett snorted. “Trust me. I’m not about to repeat what’s said in this carriage. I’m just like you. Here to do someone else’s bidding.”

  Nadia lowered her lashes. “Still, it does not bode well to speak ill of the monarch.”

  “Fine, then tell me about Dusk? Tell me about your world and I’ll tell you about mine.”

  Her eyes lit up. “An exchange of knowledge?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well, it’s no secret that Dusk pays tribute to Twilight on an annual basis—crops, fabric, and sometimes carts of Twilighters for labour.”

  “But why?”

  “Because they’re afraid the king will unleash The Hunt if they deny him.”

  This was new. “What’s The Hunt?”

  Her eyes grew round again. “No one knows for sure, because no one who lies in the path of The Hunt lives to tell the tale. Papa used to tell me stories of the time before, when Twilighters lived in tribes and there were no glittering kingdoms or monarchs, just honest trade between the tribes with nature to provide for our needs. The only monster was The Hunt. It would sweep across the land once every year for seven nights. Anyone in its path, anyone who saw them, would simply vanish without a trace. It was our king—a young warrior back then—who captured The Hunt. No one knows how he did it, but afterwards … Well our people were beholden to him. He made his position clear—serve him or face the wrath of The Hunt, now his to command.”

  “So Dawn doesn’t fear The Hunt?”

  She shook her head. “Dawn was built on hallowed ground. Papa always said it was something about the salt in the earth and the air seeping in from the sea that repelled The Hunt. As far as we know it has never ridden over those lands.”

  So this king ruled by fear using the threat of a weapon that could wipe out his enemies, and now he wanted something from Lindrealm. Brett’s stomach turned over. He had a really bad feeling about this meeting.

  “So, tell me about your world?” Nadia asked.

  “Well, where to start …”

  _____

  The journey went pretty quickly after that. Nadia pulled out a picnic basket filled with cheese, fruit, bread, and elderberry juice. They ate, talked, and watched the unclaimed lands morph into the kingdom of Twilight. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the hustle and bustle of a city that could have rivalled Lindrealm in its contemporary nature. Dark buildings of granite rose up from the ground in towers that cast long shadows across the tarmac roads. Carriages clattered up and down the streets while people dressed in black and silver scurried to and fro like ants in a maze. The sky was streaked with pink, red and purple—the only splash of colour in this monochrome Kingdom.

  “Not what you were expecting?” Nadia asked.

  “Nowhere near.”

  “The King has progressive ideas.”

  Ice filled his veins. Progressive, as in take over Lindrealm, progressive? He hoped not, because with the luma shortage, the Fearless deaths, and the fact that the king possessed a lethal weapon that could wipe out cities, Lindrealm was screwed if they didn’t find Caldwell and discover the truth about the luma shortage soon. They needed some kind of leverage over Twilight to hold them to the treaty.

  They passed through a square and the carriage slowed to allow for a crowd of citizens, all moving in the same direction.

  “What’s going on?” Bret wound do
wn the carriage window and peered out.

  “A Reckoning.” Nadia’s voice was flat.

  “Nadia?”

  She sighed. “By royal decree, any citizen found committing acts of treason shall be flogged until death.”

  “And what constitutes treason?”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Speaking ill of the king. Speaking ill of Twilight and how it’s run. Basically showing any dissatisfaction with the status quo.”

  “So basically all the stuff you’ve been saying on this ride?”

  He face drained of colour. “You said you wouldn’t repeat that.”

  “And I meant it. You can trust me.”

  She sagged in her seat. “Thank you.”

  The carriage crawled forward at snail’s pace, and through the mass he caught a glimpse of a raised platform. Guards dressed in black livery dragged a man up the steps and pushed him down on his knees. One carried what looked like a barbed whip in his gloved hand. He watched as this guard ripped the shirt from the man’s back, and then the carriage was turning away, the crowd was surging forward, and he lost sight of the spectacle. That was fine with him. He’d seen enough.

  6

  With Brett gone, all I could do was wonder how he was doing. Two long days of preparation were all they’d been able to give him, and now my best friend—no, more than my best friend, my family—was walking into unknown territory to face goodness knew what dangers. I couldn’t do anything to help him from where I stood, but I was gonna do everything in my damn power to help Sabriel, and speaking to god was number one on my list.

  Okay so we weren’t actually going to speak to god, but Baal knew a djinn who knew an angel who was pretty tight with someone called the scribe.

  We walked up the path to a red-brick town house. “You sure he’ll know what happened?”

  How could he? He lived in Everlight. The best part of Everlight, but still. How could he have his finger on the pulse of heaven if he was slumming it with us mortals?

  I made to knock on the door.

  Baal gently gripped my wrist. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “For the umpteenth time, yes I’m sure.”

  His brow was crinkled and I wanted to smooth it.

  “Look. I know my questioning god’s decision may seem weird to you, but my friends and family mean the world to me. If someone is going to take them away from me, then they better have a damned good reason.”

  Baal sighed. “I suppose I can understand that.” He released me and stepped back. “The floor’s all yours.”

  Ignoring the knot in my stomach I rapped firmly on the door.

  It was opened almost immediately by a slender person wearing neat round spectacles, a grey tunic, and dark slacks. Man or woman? Okay, with those delicate features and that feminine elfin hair-do, it had to be a woman. Seriously, why did they have to be so androgynous?

  “Well, you took your sweet time,” she said, stepping back to admit us. “There’s tea in the kitchen, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there in a bit.” She ushered us toward an open door straight ahead.

  The kitchen was huge, plenty of granite counter space, a large family dining table, and fancy overhead lighting.

  I leaned in toward Baal. “Do you think she has us confused with someone else?”

  He shook his head. “She’s the scribe. She knew we were coming.”

  “For a second there I wasn’t sure whether she was a she.”

  Baal moved toward the table and the neatly laid out tea tray and began to pour himself a cup. “Angels are androgynous, Kenna. Some prefer to live as women, some as men, and some switch between the two, dependant on mood or millennia.” He took a sip of his drink.

  I blinked at him. “But then, do they have … parts?”

  Baal choked on his tea. “Seriously Kenna, how the heck am I supposed to know that?”

  The scribe appeared a moment later, clutching a leather-bound book and a golden quill.

  “So, I know why you’re here, and I have my list of things I can tell you, so ask away.”

  “Don’t you know what I’m going to ask?”

  “Goodness no, I’m not a mind reader.”

  I was so confused.

  She sighed. “Sit, have some tea, and I’ll do my best to explain how this works.”

  I pulled out a chair and parked my butt.

  The scribe took the seat opposite me and lifted the pot to pour herself some tea, glancing up at me over the rim of her spectacles. “Would you like some?”

  I shook my head, but Baal held out his cup for a refill. The guy was a demon when it came to tea consumption.

  She sipped her beverage and flipped open the book.

  The pages were blank, but she scanned them as if she was actually reading stuff. “Ookay, I’m the scribe and it’s my job to keep a note of what goes on in the various realms of god’s creation, and after you’ve been keeping notes for so long, you begin to spot patterns and predict paths. After a while you can just guess with pretty stunning accuracy what might happen next. I’m usually pretty spot on. Ah, here you are, Kenna Carter.”

  I glanced at Baal again but he was perfectly relaxed, eyes half closed. He wasn’t going to be any help.

  “Um … the pages are blank.”

  She looked up, her warm brown eyes crinkling in amusement. “Yes. To anyone but me.”

  Ah. “So what does it say about me?”

  She shut the book. “Oh, I can’t tell you that lovely. But I can tell you ‘no’.”

  “No?”

  “No, you can’t have your angel back.”

  “I thought you didn’t know what I was going to ask.”

  “Yes, well a quick scan of your story tipped me off.”

  Baal cleared his throat. “With due respect scribe, can you at least tell us why Sabriel was taken?”

  She glanced at me, her eyes clouding in confusion. “Sabriel broke the rules of course. Again.”

  “Again?”

  “Oh yes, his second infraction. He got off lightly with the first. Big scandal. Huge. So Kenna, you can understand why he had to be punished this time after what he did for you.”

  What the heck was she talking about?

  She scanned my face, then her book. He lips formed an ‘O’ and she slammed the book closed.

  “My mistake. You don’t know.”

  I glanced at Baal who was sitting up in his seat, eyes narrow slits.

  “Baal?”

  He kept his gaze trained on the scribe. “You took her memories, didn’t you?”

  Her eyes widened. “Not me personally. But yes.”

  It took me a second to realise that they were talking about me, that my memories had been tampered with.

  Hell, no! Not again.

  I collared the anger, licked my lips, and leaned in, arms resting on the table. “I know you have all the details of my path, of what I’m trying to do and how it could save a bunch of people, not to mention the realms your boss created, and if I’m gonna do that effectively, I cannot have the powers-that-be drilling holes in my mind.” I tapped the side of my head. “This is out of bounds.”

  She offered me a small smile. “I get it, believe me I do. You’d think knowing all this stuff was great. No. It sucks. I mean, it’s not like I can crack open a bottle of nectar and chin wag about it to my best friend on the celestial plane. No. I have to keep it all bottled up inside until I can write it down. You know what they used to call me? Scribe with no vibe. Yes, it sucked, and the images and the tales were a constant stream of data flowing through my mind. It was harrowing, gripping, and lonely. It’s why I came here and settled among the humans. Bars are great places to go and vent, and alcohol works just as effectively as a memory extraction. Life isn’t perfect but its better.”

  “I’m happy for you. Truly I am, but what about my problem? Those memories could contain something vital, something that could tip the balance in my favour when push comes to shove. Sabriel could be the person that provid
es me with the aid, the advice, the answer I need to reach my goal.”

  She dropped her gaze. “Yeah, those arguments were made. But you must understand, some transgressions cannot go unpunished. We had to set an example, especially as it wasn’t his first offence.”

  “But you’re punishing me too! How is that fair?”

  “It isn’t.” She shrugged, “but my hands are tied. Memory extractions are rare, complex, and mostly irreversible.”

  “Really? Well then how come I had the memories of my other lives restored?”

  Her brows shot up. “Do tell.”

  “They were in some kind of shimmery fluid in a vial. I drank it and remembered.”

  She stifled a giggle.

  “What?”

  “Oh, my dear girl, the fluid simply relaxed your mind enough to allow those memories—those very powerful memories—to surge to the surface.”

  So I could use it again?

  She must have seen the calculation on my face, because she shook her head. “Oh, that wouldn’t work for this memory, dear.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not nearly powerful enough to swim past all the other … things in your mind.” Her lips curled slyly.

  She knew about the alters.

  I swallowed.

  She leaned in conspiratorially. “To completely wipe a memory, we’d have to lobotomise you.”

  Her eyes twinkled. She’d told me all I needed to know. My memory was still there. I just had to find a way to access it, but that didn’t help me get back Sabriel unless …

  “So, memory extractions are mostly irreversible, right?”

  She nodded.

  “So what would happen if one did get reversed?” She sat back, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. “Well, if that were to happen, then not only would the subject get their memory back, but the infraction that had resulted in the extraction would be eligible for appeal.”

  I could get Sabriel back.

  Baal set down his tea cup. “I think we’ve taken enough of your time, scribe, we appreciate your candour.”

  She inclined her head, her eyes still fixed on me.

  “Yes. Thanks.” I pushed back my chair and took my leave.

  We were on the porch when she called out.