Disenchanted (27 page)

Distant shuffling noises become footsteps. As they come closer a sickly sweet smell, I know all too intimately, looms over me.

“I know you’re awake.”

He gives me a pull and I roll over, staring at my captor. In the dimness, his appearance is all the scarier. That nasty rash on his cheek, shiny with dark streaks, blank voids where his eyes should be and pinched features sharpened by shadow. He looks every bit the monster I know him to be and frankly, I’m scared. Not that I wasn’t before, but as he stares at me like the cherry on top of the sundae, it registers that this is the end. There’s nowhere to run to and no one to help me.

“Where are we?” I ask, little more than a whisper. I keep telling myself I won’t go out like a whimpering fool. Easier said than done.

“At Ledges, or more precisely in Ledges.”

“There aren’t any caves at Ledges,” I say looking around.

“None that can be seen,” he says, chest puffed with pride.

What the...? Did he actually breach the veil? He’d have to have taken the power of an En who had mythical blood, such as a fairy, or an elf to open a doorway. The thought of him holding that kind of power terrifies me more that losing my own life. The havoc he could cause in these realms would be catastrophic. Not only the losses to the magical community, but he could use doorways to evade capture.

The Holden and Unholden courts, as well as the Seelie and Unseelie, might take it as a sign of invasion. It might even start an all-out war. Like the floods of ’93, or the tornadoes of ’05, there would be devastation everywhere. If I’m right, this dipshit has no idea what he’s done and probably doesn’t care. Gods, please let me be wrong.

An amulet slips from his shirt, dangles over me. “I saw Jenny wearing that.”

His fingers slide over it lovingly, a twisted smile growing as he clutches it.

“That wasn’t Jenny you chatted with that night.”

“You?” I ask, barely able to voice that single word as my thoughts drift to the shape–shifting actor. This bastard had used those Talents to become Jenny for the night.

He taps the bright red stone and nods.

“Is that how you hold the Talents you’ve taken?”

He nods again, sitting down beside me like an eager puppy awaiting praise. Praise he doesn’t deserve, but I get the feeling he’s starved for attention. And all criminal masterminds want the world to see their accomplishments, right? I’ll play along, anything to prolong my pitiful existence.

“The knot work is a spell?”

“Yes.”

“And the stones?”

“They are true power.”

“So somehow you manipulated the stolen Talents into the stones and the knot holds them together.”

He claps. “Very good. You aren’t as stupid as I thought.”

“How did you get the stones to contain the power? I mean, it’s not as if I’ll be telling anyone your secret.”

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. As you pointed out, you’ll be taking it to the grave.” His words and laughter reminiscent of the villain in any cheesy movie.

Rule number one; make the client feel like the most important person in the world. Easiest way to do that is to get them talking about their favorite subject. Themselves.

Having nothing to lose I struggle to sit up, exaggerating how the binding of my arms hampers me. He’s so excited about telling someone about his accomplishments I might as well push my luck.

“Considering you’ve repeatedly pointed out I’m not leaving here alive, could you possibly undo my arms, or at least tie them in front of me? I promise to stay put while you tell me everything.”

He shrugs, flipping open a pocketknife and cuts me free. Who looks stupid now? Every muscle protests as I prop myself against the wall. His agitation pronounced as he jostles my body up and back. The last thing I want to do is screw it up, now that I’ve come this far. Pretending to be interested—I know I should, it might lead to something important—is more difficult than imaginable.

My broken body settled, he sits a little too close for comfort, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. Leaning forward, his face is animated with something other than anger. I can feel the internal struggle between his desire to tell me everything and caution. It’s so childlike, the need for acceptance and praise. For a brief moment, I feel sorry for him, but it’s wiped away when I think of the ruin his actions have left my life.

Hold on to your anger, keep him distracted.
If he’s busy talking, he isn’t killing me, and maybe, just maybe my luck will change. I might find a way out of here, or help could show up. Not going to hold my breath over that last thought, but it’s possible if we have crossed the veil. Maybe Einen can find me. No matter how slight the chance, I have to have something to hold.

“So, how did you trap the power in the stones?” I ask, not wanting to let the window I opened close.

He literally giggles. Like a teenager, proud of how he’s deceived the adults. “Believe it, or not the answer was on the Web.”

“The web?”

He gives an overly exaggerated sigh and rolls his eyes.

“The Web—the Internet—you have heard of it, right?”

I nod, not trusting my response to come out without the sarcasm, I taste on the tip of my tongue.

“There was this site—I came across it by accident—talking about preserving your loved ones as gemstones. With the correct pressure and heat, cremated remains can be changed into jewels.”

I suppress my revulsion—twisting something meant to be a tribute into something so disgusting.

“How were you able to find the equipment, to pull this off?

He laughs.

“Weren’t you listening? I found a company on the web that specializes in doing it, all I had to do was collect what I needed and cremate them.”

“So you used the hair from my salon to trap your victims, cut out their Talents, burned them and sent them to this company?” I’d always wondered about that saying, ‘I just threw up a little in my mouth’ now I know.

He nods gleefully. The only thing that could top this would be if he clapped his hands.

“It was perfect.” His face clouds over. “And would have continued to be, if you hadn’t brought Royd into it.”

“Hey, whoa, you can’t blame me for that. You’re the one who threw me into his crosshairs. I didn’t even know the guy until the police put two and two together and got victims equals clients. If you hadn’t used my salon as your personal shopping ground, he wouldn’t have even bothered to enter the equation.”

“If you believe that you’re a bigger fool than I thought. You’re the reason he took such an interest in the case, why do you think he sent The Sword and Shield to watch you?”

“Huh?” Damn.
His Shield will protect and his Sword will cut.
I was right—The Sisters’ warning—Alric and Teiran are this Sword and Shield.

“I take that back about you not being as stupid as you look. You don’t even know your own history. My parents may have denied me my natural Talent, but they at least taught me history.”

His growing anger and disdain feeds my own.

“Kind of hard to have parents who abandoned me at birth teach me anything.”

He makes a little clicking sound with his tongue.

“Poor Keely. That doesn’t excuse you. You could have taken the time to find out on your own.”

“Whatever.”

“Look at everything I found out on my own.”

“Your parents must be so proud.”

“Oh, I’m sure they are.” A chilling smile snakes its way across his face as he touches two of the stones in the amulet.

Oh gods, he killed his own parents, really shouldn’t be any big surprise. If he’s willing to do that, what chance do I have? Zilch, zero, nada would be my guess, but a girl has to try.

“Why my salon? There are plenty of salons that cater to Ens.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I asked.” I drop the asshole before it slips out. Insults are not helpful when you’re trying to stay alive a few minutes more.

“Why not? You had everything I needed. A large and important clientele, a small staff, and face it, Keely, you’re a sucker. You may be a respected business woman,” he laughs, “or used to be, but you’re a soft touch. Look at the misfits you take in as staff.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? They’re all good at what they do.”

His grin widens. “Yes, yes they are.”

“Speaking of my staff, I don’t suppose you had anything to do with Jenny’s disappearance.”

His jaw hinges guppy–like then slams shut. The cold gleam in his eyes tells me everything I need to, but don’t want to know. A chill flows over me and the oxygen is sucked from my lungs. I doubt there’s a gemstone immortalizing her in that thing around his neck. She wouldn’t have anything he wanted besides what she’d already given him.

“It was her own fault.”

His muffled voice continues on, but I’ve had all I can take. I try to shut him out, it’s no use. My hands are pulled away from my ears and the strange combination of his laughter and my chanting enough, assaults me.

“Now, now, you wanted to hear everything, remember?”

Nothing like being forced to eat your own words. Next thing you know, he’ll expect me to keep my promise to stay put. That ain’t going to happen, not after everything he’s done and what he’s about to do. Bringing my feet up I plant them in his chest, thrusting with what little strength I have. Surprisingly, more than I expected as he lands with a satisfying thud. Scrambling to my feet, I run, not caring where to as long as it’s away from him.

He shouts something, followed by that maniacal laughter, but I’m beyond caring. I just run, stumbling along until I hit my first roadblock. Wouldn’t you know it, there’s a fork in the road, another choice. Damn The Sisters and their prophecies.

There’s no time to weigh out the options so I head right, my lousy sense of direction amplified by the lack of visual difference in my surroundings. I discover the glow I thought came from something he was doing emanates from the rock itself. It gives me enough light to navigate the unfamiliar paths. Problem is, he also has light.

The once–distant footfalls are closing as I lose steam. Nearly drowning, tossed in a trunk and being beaten takes a toll on a body. My muscles scream in protest, but nowhere close to as loud as my instinct to live.

Using the wall as a crutch, I continue my faltering gait searching for a place to hole up until he passes. Hoping and praying to whatever god might be listening that tracking isn’t one of the Talents he’s acquired. Had I been thinking clearly I’d have snagged that horrid piece of bling he’s so proud of. To think I’d thought it pretty when Jenny, excuse me, fake Jenny was wearing it.

Stubbing my toe against a jutting piece of stone, I silently curse not only my own stupidity, but also my guardians for not teaching me how to border hop. Even if all the blame can’t be laid at their feet, the pain in mine wants to. My snail’s pace slows even more as a sharp edge slices across my palm. Here come the tears again. Doesn’t matter if it’s fear, pain, or just plain exhaustion. I don’t have time for them. A trail of blood streaks the wall behind me. Can I make this any easier for him? I pull my hand away, but not fast enough. My arm is sucked into the stone, but the sound of his footsteps closing in, making yet another choice for me. Lesser of two evils again? I guess we’ll find out.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

The last time I had to make a choice like this my lungs filled with water, this time it’s dust. Would what waits for me on the other side be as helpful as Einen, or something far worse than The Collector?

Millions of voices reverberate and I cover my ears against the constant ooommm, but it doesn’t even muffle the noise. Motion slows to a crawl, like pushing through a wall of molasses, only cool and dry instead of sticky. Reaching the other side leaves me gasping, trying to focus in virtually total darkness. Having claustrophobia could become an issue when jumping between worlds. I’m glad being in close spaces doesn’t bother me and if it did, the alternative would cure me.

Blinking away the grit, my eyes slowly adjust to the difference in lighting. Still a soft glow, but the rocky walls are an iridescent silvery blue instead of warm gold. The drop in temperature prickles across my skin and foggy puffs of breath obscure my sight. One of the more colorful old timer’s sayings comes to mind,
colder than a witch's tit
, not that I’ve ever tested that theory. Not high on my list of things to do.

I’d give anything to ditch the swimsuit for a parka, my teeth chattering so hard what’s left of my brains rattle. The wall behind me begins to hum, the glow brightening, a body slowly emerging. Okay, not anything.

Limping my sorry ass away from the arm and now leg sticking out of the wall, I bite my lower lip to keep from whimpering. Those of you who think heels kill are in for a rude awakening when you try barefoot on stone. Icy, cold stone to boot. The only saving grace, it’s not slick.

Pain slows my movements and the fear of more pushes me forward. Sharp edges bite into tender soles, leaving a bloody trail of prints. Every muscle throbs including my heart, beating in my ears so loud it almost drowns out the tapping crunch of his shoes.