Captive

DUTTON

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC

375 Hudson Street

New York, New York 10014

USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

Copyright © 2013 by Seven Crows, Inc.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices,
promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized
edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning,
or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting
writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Robertson, A. D., 1978–

Captive : the forbidden side of Nightshade / A. D. Robertson.

pages cm

ISBN 978-0-698-13833-9 (eBook)

I. Title.

PS3618.O316455C37 2013

813'.6—dc23 2013016257

Title page photograph © dianamower—Fotolia.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.

For Rabbit, wherever he may roam

She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed;

She is woman, and therefore to be won.

—Shakespeare,
Henry VI, Part I

From
Notes of Silas the Scribe, Tordis Archive

WHAT HUMAN HISTORY
tells of witches is but a sliver of truth. Neither agents of the devil nor figments
of our imagination, those creatures, named witches for so many centuries, are in fact
human beings, but exceptional human beings at that. In an age when rationality and
science did not muzzle those with knowledge of the arcane and occult, a few brave
souls dedicated their lives to the protection of this Earth from the dark influences
of strange spirit realms. A secret branch of the Knights Templar, these warriors—collectively
known as Conatus—repelled every onslaught of nether creatures. But those things that
hide in the shadows are well versed in seduction, and there were those within Conatus
who fell prey to the dark’s allure.

A fracture developed among the Earth’s sworn protectors. Led by a charismatic and
rare female knight, Eira, were those who desired to harness the power of the nether
realm for their own. Eira’s own sister, Cian, rose to challenge these traitors to
the mission of Conatus.

Thus began the Witches War, where warriors fought and fell for centuries. Eira’s followers
named themselves Keepers, and with the aid of a strange figure named Bosque Mar, exploited
their access to the mysteries of the nether realm to overwhelm their adversaries and
extend their own lives well beyond the years decreed by the natural order of the Earth.

Martyred by Eira in the first battle of the war, Cian left not only a legacy of resistance,
but her dying words became a prophecy revered by her fellow knights. Cian’s sacrificial
death transformed her spirit into four pieces, each imbued with elemental magic born
of the Earth itself for the world’s defense, that when joined would become a weapon
known as the Elemental Cross.

The pieces of the cross were flung to the four corners of the Earth and thus the war
continued, not only in battles but also as a race to locate the resting places of
the sundered weapon. The Keepers reached the sites first and, deeming them sacred,
established nigh impenetrable, mystical defenses around each of the locations.

The Searchers’ mission transformed accordingly, but became twofold. While their warriors
attempted to infiltrate the sites and recover the pieces, their scholars searched
for clues within Cian’s prophecy. For their patron’s words not only spoke of the weapon
that would close the rift through which the nether realm gained access to the world,
but also of the warrior who would wield the Elemental Cross.

Shrouded in mystery, the Searchers knew only these things: that the child would be
born the first of August, the day of the ancient harvest holiday, and that this long-awaited
warrior would be the child of a traitor.

SARAH SEARCHED THE
rock face with her fingertips until she found the next hold. She placed two anchors
for her team to use as they followed her up the chute. Hauling herself through the
narrow crevice, Sarah was rewarded by the sound of rushing water. Had stealth not
been of necessity, she would have been inclined toward a victory shout.

Sarah pulled herself up a few inches so her line of sight cleared the ledge. The impulse
to holler disappeared as a profound sense of wonder stilled her soul. The rock shelf
was broad, its shape carved smooth by centuries, if not millennia, by the underground
river that channeled through the cavern, wearing stone away. Thick tree roots threaded
in and out of the cavern’s ceiling. High above, sunlight streamed through a slit in
the earth. Having seen the opening from the surface, Sarah knew it was wide enough
to allow her team passage. Barely enough, but barely was all she needed.

Making certain her toeholds offered the leverage she’d need, Sarah crouched against
the wall. Adrenaline jolted through her veins as Sarah used the power of her calves
and quads to flip herself onto the shelf. She landed on near-silent feet, her body
taut and low to the ground as she surveyed the open space. She waited, watching, listening.
Convinced that, as she’d suspected, their adversaries hadn’t come upon this hidden
chamber, Sarah called over the edge of the shelf.

“It’s clear. Come on up.”

From below, Sarah heard the scrabble of feet upon rough stone and the metallic clink
of carabiners as her companions finished the climb. As she waited for their arrival,
Sarah took off her pack and surveyed the next stage of the climb. It was only the
sound of a quick release of breath that made Sarah glance over her shoulder to see
a body hurtling toward her.

Sarah grunted as Jeremy’s body, all muscle propelled by the force with which he’d
thrown himself over the ledge, slammed into hers and sent them both tumbling along
the cave floor. Jeremy ended up on top of Sarah, pinning her to the ground. Fortunately
they stopped rolling before being dumped in the river.

While she waited for the air to come back into her lungs, Sarah glared up at him.

“What?” With his trademark puckish smile, Jeremy easily eroded Sarah’s annoyance.
“You’re the only one who’s allowed to do ninja moves?”

“You’re supposed to look over the ledge,” Sarah told him. “Not throw yourself up,
sight unseen.”

“I like surprises.” Jeremy hadn’t let her up yet. Now that she could breathe again,
his weight wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Adopting an irritated expression, Sarah twisted
underneath him, knowing full well that her hips rocked against his provocatively.

“Hey now,” Jeremy murmured, his voice suddenly rough. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re the one who knocked me down,” Sarah said with a teasing smile. “This is just
getting even.”

She felt his cock stiffening against her thigh. Sarah laughed and gave him a hard
shove so that he rolled off her. Sarah jumped up while Jeremy climbed to his feet
much more slowly.

“That was not very nice,” he said.

“I wasn’t trying to be nice.”

“Are you two fighting again?” The third member of the Tordis strike team scrambled
over the ledge.

Sarah pointed at Anika and said to Jeremy, “See how she did that? No tackling. It’s
a much better method.”

Jeremy flashed her a wicked smile. “I think I’ll stick with tackling.”

“I missed a football game?” Anika asked, shooting a glance at Sarah. “That’s too bad.
I’ve always been a fan of full-contact sports.”

Sarah shrugged in reply. The ever-escalating flirtation between her and Jeremy was
no secret. Sarah didn’t know where it was leading, or even where she wanted it to
lead, but she was having fun and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Anika stretched her arms and gazed up at the light filtering into the cave from above.

“That’s the next climb? Glad I’m staying down here with the Weaver.” Anika nodded
at Jeremy.

“I forgot to bring a deck of cards,” Jeremy teased. “Hope we don’t get too bored while
they’re gone.”

“If all goes well, you won’t be waiting long.” The final member of their team, and
the Tordis Guide, Patrice, stood at the edge of the shelf.

As she coiled up the climbing rope, Patrice asked, “Are we set for the next stage?”

“Do you need a minute?” Sarah asked their team leader.

“No,” Patrice said. “Let’s move on.”

Sarah nodded and knelt beside her pack. She pulled out two grappling-hook guns and
handed one to Patrice.

Taking aim at one of the thickest roots in the ceiling, Sarah pulled the trigger.
The hooked spear sailed out, trailing braided metal cable. With a
thunk
the hook buried itself in the middle of the root, just shy of the opening that led
to the surface.

Sarah gave the line a couple of tugs to test it. After clipping the mechanical pulley
to her climbing harness, Sarah nodded at Patrice.

Patrice shot her gun and her hook hit a foot left of Sarah’s mark.

“Very nice,” Sarah said.

“Always fun when we get to pull out the Batman gear,” Jeremy said. “I’m a little jealous.”

Sarah threw a grin at him. “You should have been a Striker.”

“I know,” Jeremy said. “Tragic that the Academy decided I was too smart to go to waste
on you brutes.”

“Keep in mind this brute is in charge of saving your ass if this goes bad,” Anika
muttered.

“Of course I didn’t mean
you
.” Jeremy gave Anika puppy eyes.

Ignoring her charges’ banter, Patrice asked Sarah, “Ready?”

Sarah nodded and flipped the switch on her grappling-hook pulley. The cable began
to wind itself up, lifting Sarah into the air. When she reached the cavern ceiling,
Sarah surveyed the roots that climbed out of the dim light toward the sun. It was
only a couple of feet, not even a yard to get out of the cave.

“You comfortable using the roots to free climb from here?” Sarah asked Patrice, who
was suspended in the air beside her.

“Yes,” Patrice said, then added drily, “I’m sure Jeremy will catch me if I fall.”

Sarah laughed as she took a tight grip on the closest root with her left hand, braced
her feet against the curving rock wall, and unclipped the pulley from her harness
with her right.

Sarah moved like a spider toward the break in the earth. The climb sent her and Patrice
on a path above the cavern floor at a backward pitch of about thirty degrees. Sarah
chose her hold carefully, taking her grips and placing her feet more deliberately
than she would have if she’d been climbing alone. At the moment she was modeling for
Patrice and wanted to make sure the Guide, a less-experienced climber, didn’t choose
a root that wasn’t embedded deep enough in the rock to hold her.

Reaching the lip of the cavern entrance, Sarah found a snakelike root that she could
follow out of the cave. She blinked against the sudden bright light as she pulled
herself onto the earth’s surface. Sarah immediately rolled to her feet, scanning the
surrounding woods to be certain this place wasn’t being watched.

Patrice emerged from the cave a minute later and took up the same defensive posture
that Sarah had.

“We’re good.” Sarah stood up. Taking the spare climbing rope she’d attached to her
harness, Sarah tucked it within the tangle of roots at the surface. They’d need the
rope for the descent . . . if they made it back.

Patrice nodded and pointed at the tree-covered slope to their right. “The château
is at the top of that ridge.”

“And we’re sure it’s empty?” Sarah asked. Not that she wasn’t up for a fight, but
Sarah had never gotten used to relying on civilian intelligence for a mission that
involved this amount of risk.

Patrice didn’t answer, and Sarah silently chided herself for asking the question.
Micah, the Arrow, wouldn’t have sent the team on this mission if they didn’t trust
their informant.

“Come on.” Patrice moved off and Sarah followed, feeling abashed.

It took them about fifteen minutes to reach the backside of the château. The luxurious
home jutted out from the mountain slope. Trees had been cleared on all sides to afford
its owners a rare view of the Alps. There was no access road, only a heliport.

“Without a doubt there’s a Guardian, if not a few, on the perimeter,” Patrice said
quietly. “But our intelligence reported that the Keeper who owns this château doesn’t
permit his security detail inside.”

“So we get in and out without being noticed?” Sarah gauged the distance from tree
cover to back door. They could make it in a ten-second dash. But whether they would
be seen all depended on the manner of the Guardian’s patrol route. If their adversary
kept a steady watch on the house itself, they’d find it difficult to access the château
without being spotted. However, if the Guardian was actively roaming the grounds and
not sitting on the house itself—that was another matter.

“We go in,” Patrice said, her gaze fixed on the back door. “If a Guardian comes after
us, we’ll take it down.”

Sarah nodded. She knew better than to argue with the Guide, and Sarah had stuck her
foot in her mouth once already. She didn’t want to do it again or she might end up
cataloging records for the Tordis Scribes.

“On three,” Patrice whispered. “One, two—”

On the third beat they burst from the trees onto the château grounds. Even as she
ran, Sarah kept her eyes and ears open for sights and sounds of an imminent attack.

They reached the door and Patrice opened the panel to access the security system.
Sarah turned her back on Patrice and scanned the forest line. No movement yet.

“All right,” Patrice said. “We’re in.”

She opened the door and slipped into the house. Sarah followed, still watching the
forest, but nothing seemed to be keeping an eye on the château. At least, not at the
moment.

After Patrice had closed the door and waited a few minutes to be certain their entrance
had gone undetected, the Guide suddenly laughed.

Sarah raised her eyebrows at Patrice.

With a wide smile Patrice said, “Our informant is one of the maids here. Apparently
she came over to our side because the Keeper who lives here is so horrible to work
for she wanted to see him taken down a peg. He must really be an asshole.”

“Gotta love it when Keepers stay true to form.” Sarah smiled.

“We’re headed to the study.” Patrice led the way from the humble entrance meant for
the servants, replete with cubbies for their coats, hats, and boots, as well as a
closet in which their uniforms hung.

They passed from the entryway into the kitchen, which was filled with immaculate stainless-steel
appliances and ebony countertops polished to a mirrorlike shine.

To reach the study they crossed a great room that faced the front of the house. Floor-to-ceiling
windows afforded breathtaking views of snowy mountain peaks. The study was a . . .
well,
study
, in modern design.

Sarah frowned at the desk chair Patrice sat in, which looked like it had been constructed
of plastic netting.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Sarah said.

“You’d think,” Patrice replied. “But it actually is.”

Patrice turned on the computer and waited until the password prompt appeared. Without
missing a beat she entered the password and was rewarded with the Keeper’s home desktop
popping into view.

“He gave his staff his password?” Sarah frowned.

Patrice shook her head as she plugged in a USB drive and copied files onto it. “He
just doesn’t pay attention to them. Our informant has been in the room multiple times
when he’s logged onto the computer. She didn’t have trouble figuring out the password.
I don’t think the Keeper believes his staff are capable of anything other than serving
him.

“That’ll do it.” Patrice removed the USB drive. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

Sarah and the Guide exited the château as easily as they’d entered it, and when they
reached the forest, Sarah was giddy with their success.

A snuffle, followed by a low grunt, was all the warning she had.

The bear, which had been hidden behind a huge fallen tree trunk, lumbered into view.
Spittle flew from its muzzle as it roared its fury at the Searchers.

With a single swipe of its enormous paw, Patrice went flying. Her body slammed into
a tree and she fell to the ground, horribly still.

Sarah had already drawn her throwing knives. She launched the blades at the Guardian,
and the bear, still focused on Patrice, didn’t have the chance to parry Sarah’s attack.

The blades buried themselves in the bear’s chest and it bellowed in pain, dropping
to all fours.

Sarah drew two more knives, hurling them as the bear charged. The first hit home,
sinking into the bear’s shoulder. But the second flew wide.

The huge Guardian was coming straight at her. Sarah crouched, muscles coiling, and
when the bear was a foot away Sarah leaped into the air, tumbling head over heels
and landing behind the Guardian.

The bear’s momentum had been too great to instantly wheel around, giving Sarah the
chance to sink two more knives into its flank. The bear turned and again bellowed
its rage at her.

At that moment Sarah would have given her right hand for Patrice’s sword. Her knives,
while they could be deadly, weren’t causing enough damage to take the Guardian down.

She had only one way to really cripple it, and she knew that acrobatics wouldn’t save
her from the bear’s attack a second time. Sarah drew her knives and waited for the
bear to drop to all fours.

The second it did, and before it could charge, Sarah sucked in a quick breath and
let fly with a knife, praying that it would hit home.

The blade buried itself in the bear’s left eye. The Guardian roared in agony, raising
a massive paw to swat at the blade. Sarah used the distraction to throw a second knife.
That blade met its mark as well, burying itself in the Guardian’s right eye, blinding
the beast. The bear made a sound almost like a wail and stood on its hind legs.