Darkness Surrendered (Primal Heat Trilogy #3) (Order of the Blade) (17 page)

“No. I’ll take a truck.” Elijah didn’t want Kane anywhere near when he reached the prison, because he had a bad feeling it wasn’t going to be pretty. Hell, he didn’t even want Ana there, but he had no choice.

Besides, she might be the only way he was going to survive it.

***

Drew paced the confines of the small cell, testing the thick walls of clay for the hundredth time. There were no windows, no door, and no light. Nothing but darkness. Nothing but silence. Nothing but emptiness.

His pulse was still racing, panicking at the feeling of confinement, but exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.

He stopped walking and pressed his palms against the wall, the dried clay rough under his palms. Two thousand years Ezekiel had spent in here. Two thousand years of isolation, with no company except his own thoughts.

Drew let his head drop, flexing his muscles. Muscles that weren’t his. Muscles that were twice the size of his, if not more. It was the body of a man with coordination Drew had never experienced before, since he’d come into his Calydon powers only a month ago. This wasn’t his body, and it didn’t feel right. It was Ezekiel’s, and it was clear Ezekiel had spent his incarceration making use of what little room he had to stay fit and strong.

Drew had called out his weapons, relieved to discover he still had his polearms, but they were strong and well-formed, not the weak, spindly weapons of a rookie. They were the effective, deadly weapons of a warrior who’d had them for thousands of years. Drew felt the ancient wisdom in his body, knew the grief of many deaths, felt the weight of Ezekiel’s existence in every core of his being. His palms were thick with calluses. From scraping at the walls for two thousand years? It was all wrong, this body he was trapped in, this prison that had locked him down.

He was hungry, his stomach eating away at itself. Thirsty as all hell.

But he knew he wouldn’t die.

A Calydon couldn’t die except by violence. He would feel like he was starving to death, but he wouldn’t.

He pressed his palms to the wall again, and Ezekiel’s blood burned through his skin. Ezekiel had bled on these walls. Bled for the freedom he’d finally gotten.

Drew lifted his head, searching the darkness for some flicker of hope, but there was nothing. Nothing but overwhelming blackness, except for that one brief moment of brilliant light when he’d felt
her
. When Ezekiel had killed that woman, Drew had felt her death.

Sudden grief hit him again at the memory, waves of darkness and emptiness, the fierce burn of a rage untamed, the need for revenge, to destroy, to kill. His chest hurt, aching with the pain of the loss, and Drew pressed his hand to his ribs, relishing in the pain as he probed the raw wounds where he’d clawed at his chest, trying to stop the pain when he’d felt her die.

His
sheva
?

Yes.

Drew knew she had been his soul mate. His agony, the unfathomable depths of his pain at the loss of a woman he’d never even met. Before he’d even started, he’d lost his mate, and it was ripping him apart. He’d heard the stories of the brutality of Calydons after losing their soul mates, and it was right.

Drew sank down on the cold floor and bowed his head, no longer able to fight off the grief. His mother was long dead, his uncle was in a coma, Dante had been murdered, and now his
sheva
had been destroyed by a madman
.

There was no one else.

No one else in this godforsaken hell hole he’d never get out of.

He threw back his head and let the grief roar out of his throat, shouting it to the darkness—.

Energy shimmered in his mind, and he sat up. It was a light energy. Warmth. He recognized it immediately, disbelief leaping through him. “Dante?”

You are my son
.

Drew felt tears thicken at the sound of his father’s voice, the father he’d known only for a month, who’d impacted him more than anyone else in his life. Dante was the one who had introduced Drew to his destiny as a Calydon and Order member. Dante had given Drew a purpose in life, and then he’d lost him.
Are you dead?

The future depends on you.

Me? Yeah, because I screwed up and let Ezekiel take over me.
He’d failed to protect the woman who had been destined for him. He’d been too weak to stop Ezekiel, to hold onto his own body. Drew was nothing like the greatness of his father.

You are my legacy.

Drew’s chest tightened at the heaviness of Dante’s words, almost as if they were a ritual, a passing of the mantle.
What do you mean?

If you die, hope dies with you.

Die?
Drew’s heart started to pound, and he gripped his polearms.
It’s impossible for me to die while I’m in here. There’s no one to kill me.

You are connected to Ezekiel. If he dies, you die.

Oh, hell. That couldn’t be good. The entire Order was hunting Ezekiel. Frustration pulsed through Drew at being trapped, stripped of his ability to act, rendered ineffective by his own weakness that had gotten him incarcerated.

Warning rumbled deep in Dante’s voice.
If you die, hope dies with you.

The power in his father’s words registered, drawing Drew’s attention.
Hope for what?

Everything
.

Everything. Everything?
What does that mean?

You are too young for this burden, but that no longer matters. Ezekiel must die, and you must survive. You. Must. Survive.

“How?” His voice echoed in his prison cell, bouncing off the walls that were so impenetrable. “What am I supposed to do?”

Tell them
.

“Tell them? Tell who what?” Drew sensed Dante’s presence fading, and panic hammered at him. “Tell who what?” he shouted.

But Dante was gone.

***

The gears in the truck ground as the SUV kicked up the steep incline of rock and clay, the path littered with debris from the wind and rain storm that had hit the area several days ago.

Ana gripped the door handle, trying not to look over the edge of the sharp drop off as the engine whined up the hill.

They’d been in the truck for only four hours, seven to go before they made it to Eastern Oregon where the prison was located, almost up to the Washington border. Ana peered at the waterfall pouring down on their left. It blurred out of focus, crystallized drops sparkling like angel dust…God, she was so tired. Needed to sleep…

The truck bumped over a rut, the lurch jerking her eyes open. Crud. She’d almost fallen asleep again. Her eyes started to drift shut again, and she shifted in her seat, blinking hard. “I need to stop.”

Elijah didn’t even slow the truck. “No time.”

“It’ll take one minute. Trust me, you want to stop.”

Elijah glanced at her. He must have seen something in her face that made him understand how important it was, because he suddenly hit the brakes hard. The truck was still skidding to a stop as Ana reached across him, threw open his door and shoved him. “I need to get out.”

He grabbed her hand and climbed out of the truck as she scooted after him. Ana paused to make sure the bag on her cast was secure, then clunked across the road toward the waterfall, her eyes still trying to close even as she walked. Elijah followed close behind, scanning the woods with a vigilance so intense it made chills run down her spine. What did he sense?

She set Elijah’s palm on her shoulder to free her hands, then she knelt next to the waterfall and splashed water on her face. The coldness of it smacked her hard, and her breath caught in her chest.

Elijah knelt beside her, his green eyes intense, as if he were evaluating her carefully, trying to figure her out. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to stay awake.” Ana grabbed some of the rocks to keep herself balanced, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

He grabbed her shoulder just as she started to plunge her head into the water. “Ana!”

“What?”

Elijah frowned, his dark hair falling over his forehead as if he were a vulnerable child, not some deadly warrior. “Why don’t you just sleep? I’m driving. You can sleep.”

“I can’t.” Ana shrugged free of his grip then ducked her head under the surface of the water. The cold shocked her, and she gasped as Elijah pulled her back out.

“What the hell are you doing?” Now Elijah sounded pissed, so annoyed it almost made her smile because it felt so good to have him watching out for her well-being. “It’s almost freezing up here in the mountains.”

Ana shivered as the frigid water trickled down her back and slithered over her spine. “That’s the point.” She stood up as he grabbed a lock of her hair and wrung it out, the water dripping on the toe of his boot.

“Freezing yourself when it’s already cold out and you’re driving through the woods at night is a stupid idea.” Elijah’s voice was thoughtful, not angry, and it made her tense. “You’re not stupid. So what gives?”

She hugged her arms to her chest as she started to tremble from the cold. “Long story.”

“Give me the short version.” Elijah squeezed more water from her hair, his fingers brushing over her scalp as he did it. Ana bit her lip as he finished her hair, set his hands on her shoulders and glowered at her, making it clear that he wasn’t going to give up.

It almost made Ana laugh, the way he was scowling at her. It made her feel safe and protected to know he wouldn’t let her deal with her problems alone. And relieved, because he was leaving her no choice, not allowing her to deal with it by herself. Her instinct and her responsibility were to handle it herself and not drag him into her problems, and a part of her was so relieved that he wouldn’t allow it. She was so exhausted from carrying the burden alone. “You won’t like it.”

Elijah stared at her, then broke out in laughter that reverberated all the way to her soul. It was a deep baritone, a beautiful sound amidst all the struggle she’d been enduring. “Hell, Ana, how much of what’s going on do you think I
do
like?”

Ana managed a smile. “Okay, you have a point.”

Elijah nodded, still grinning. “We’re going into battle, and I need to know what’s up with you now, not when we’re staring down Ezekiel. So spill, woman.”

She couldn’t lie. Not to him. She owed him the truth, even if it meant he’d recoil from her even more. “I can’t control the illusions anymore.”

His jaw tightened, amusement gone. “What do you mean by that?”

“They come when I sleep now. Every time I close my eyes, they come. I usually get an hour or two of sleep, and then they hit. I wake up screaming.” Ana swallowed. “We’re both being tortured in them now. You and I. Side by side.”

Elijah tensed, and she saw a trickle of sweat bead on his forehead. “You mean, if you’d fallen asleep while I was in a healing sleep, an illusion would have come out?” His voice was carefully even.

Ana nodded. “They’re all deadly now.” It was hard for her to remember what it used to be like when she’d created images of butterflies and rainbows, when she’d created scenes that could bring peace and serenity even to the most troubled spirits. It had been only months ago, and yet it was so far away now, lost in the nightmares spilling out of her.

Elijah took a breath, and she felt him trying to will away the panic and stay focused and strategic. “Do they come out when you’re awake?”

“Not yet. I can still control them when I’m awake. For now. But they’re getting worse. Like when I fell back into my memory of Dante’s death, it was because I’m so tired.”

Ana could feel Elijah’s heart pounding now, his skin turning an ashen shade of gray as the grim reality sank in, the truth that she was a walking time bomb. “How long have you gone without sleep?”

Ana met his gaze, fatigue weighing so heavily on her, but at the same time, it was such a tremendous relief to share the burden with him. “The last time I slept was about thirty hours before we rescued you.”

His green eyes studied hers. “You’re exhausted.”

Ana shrugged. There was nothing to say. She was.

“It’ll be more difficult to keep the illusions at bay as you get more tired.” His voice was strained.

“Hence the dive into the waterfall.”

Elijah swore softly and ran his hand through his hair, leaving behind streaks of water. “This just keeps getting better.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault—”

“It is—”

Elijah grabbed her upper arms and pulled Ana against him, so close she could feel his heart beating where her breasts were pressed against his chest. “Listen to me, Ana.” His green eyes were searching hers, so intent. “You have to let it go. My death, all the others, Dante’s. Let it go. Get over the self-blame and move on.”

“Let it go? People died because of me—”

“And how many people do you think I’ve killed in my lifetime?”

Something inside Ana melted at the compassion in his eyes. The understanding. The utter lack of judgment. “Hundreds?”

“Thousands.” Elijah’s hands softened where he held her. “If you had any idea what I’ve done—”

“You kill in the line of duty. That’s admirable. I murdered my own mate, the Order leader, and—”

Elijah’s grip tightened on her again, and something truly dark flared in his eyes. Something
evil
. “I killed my little sister and brother,” he said. “And my own mother. When they were screaming for mercy and begging me to let them live. I murdered them in cold blood and I basked in the glory of their blood on my hands.”