Damien
The hard stone beneath my knees is cold as the frigid air. My skin chafes against the metal cuffs, the long chain linking to another around my ankles. Clinton shivers next to me, his face purple with bruises. Blood drips from the edge of his mouth. Sam shifts, causing the chains to clink. He’s punished with the sharp crack of a whip lashing into his back.
“No moving!” the soldier shouts from the dark. I caught a glimpse of his face when they brought us in. Blond hair with a deep scar down his cheek. He carries the whip on his belt. It’s similar to the one Dylan used in the ring.
Sam grunts against the pain, swallowing what he can. My knees ache from kneeling on the hard stone and I really need to piss, but I keep my eyes forward and my body still. Getting out of here will be hard enough without further injury.
I can only guess we got sucked into one of Bunny’s portals—the Morrigan slipping out to drag us to the Otherside. That’s where we are. I’d know this place anywhere. The cold haunts my dreams. The smell is burned to the insides of my nostrils. There’s nothing here but death—and the same fate surely awaits us if we can’t escape soon.
Minutes pass—maybe longer. I’m dizzy from the wait. Footsteps echo on the stairs. By now I’m sure we’re underground and I wonder if we’ll see daylight again, breathe fresh air, or taste the flesh of our goddess once more before we die.
The rustle of fabric—or is it wings—follows the footsteps. Then the sound of metal drags across stone. The temperature drops ten degrees and I hear Clinton swallow, either blood, rage, or both, next to me.
“Well, well, well look what the cat—or rather, bunny—dragged in,” a familiar voice bounces off the stone. The Morrigan in a full pleated skirt and a corset made of leather walks into view. “Thought you’d gotten away from me? It doesn’t work that way, Guardians.”
She walks down the line, her fingers trailing over Sam’s open lash marks, touching Clinton’s chin to get a better look at his bruises. She stops before me and raises an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t fight back?”
I grit my teeth to hold back a reply. She smiles. “You were always a smart one, Damien. But not as smart as Bunny.”
“You manipulated him,” Sam says. The guard from before steps forward and kicks him in the back. Sam nearly topples, but manages to hold himself upright. I hear the whip uncoil. The Morrigan’s dark eyes flash to the guard.
“Thank you, Casteel. Your service is appreciated.” She walks over to Sam and strokes his cheek. “But I can’t have you scarring this face, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I hear the fear and anger in his voice.
“So here’s the plan, boys, you’ll be staying here until I round up your little leader and whore. Once you’re all back under my command I’ll determine if I’ll let you live or not.” Her eyes cut to Clinton. He’s never been her favorite. “Until then you’ll rot in the dungeons, s
o you better hope they get here fast.”
She nods at the guards behind us and they move fast, dragging us up to our feet. Clinton makes a break for it, lunging at the Queen. Her eyes widen in delight when he comes up short, and then laughs boldly when a hard baton cracks against the back of his knees. Our feet are linked by chains and when he falls I crash forward too, using the momentum to swipe the feet of the guards. Sam jumps into the fray, swinging the chain over his head and wrapping it around the throat of a guard.
“That’s enough!” Casteel roars but there’s no way we’re going down without a fight. It may be our last chance to cause any damage. I grab the blade off the nearest guard and stab him in the throat.
Blood sprays and the Morrigan says loud enough for everyone to hear, “When you’re finished playing, clean up this mess,” before she walks back upstairs to the sound of fist meeting flesh.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dylan
I shouldn’t have left her.
That’s the only thought I have as I run across the city, jumping over sidewalks, dodging cars. It’s not until much later that I allow a few more negative images to push into my head.
I’ll never see her again.
The others will kill me.
I’ll kill him.
I race down an alley, passing by the areas the other Guardians had planned to visit. They’re nowhere to be seen. After looking in two other spots depicted by the paintings I return home, hoping they gave up.
If only I could fly, I think, feeling the sharp pang of sadness and loss, I’d be able to see the city better. Find them. Those days are lost. My ties to the Otherside are broken. The Nead comes into view. The glass pane of my attic window glints and a shadow passes behind it.
Davis. Of course he knew I would arrive back home. I race through the back door, skidding over the threshold. I’m out of breath when I reach the foyer of my room. Davis stands near the fireplace holding a bottle of water. I take it from him and drink it all in a fast gulp.
“Are they here?” I ask, handing him back the water.
“No. The house is empty.”