Golden's Rule (2 page)

“Hurry, move it aside. Move the tapestry aside. There is no time.”

She had to strain to hear the voice now. The whisper was so soft, she feared it might disappear, yet her body turned to ice at the thought of touching such evil with her bare hand. She couldn’t. Couldn’t touch it. Her body tensed to backup.

“You must! Hurry, move it aside.”

Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

“Forgive me, little one, you must.”

Compulsion hit her. Her skin crawled in answer to the powerful push. She silently screamed as her arm reached up, the whip marks revealing themselves fresh and red against the pale skin of her forearm. She watched, a passenger in her own body, as her fingers wrapped around the vile cloth and pulled it aside.

Pain lanced up her arm, hit her shoulder, and continued burning along every blistering mark she’d ever received. Bile rose in her throat but she swallowed hard several times and simply concentrated on breathing in and out.

Fresh air hit her face like a soft caress of some forgotten dream. Clean, untainted air in a place where there was none. Had she ever felt such a thing? Ever experienced such warmth, such beauty?

“
Go.”

“Now.”

“Hurry.”

“Don’t look back.”

She dived forward, finding herself in a dark so complete her eyes, eyes that once could see in the deepest night, couldn’t penetrate it. Her body felt as if it spun like a leaf on a gusty breeze.
A spell? A travelling charm
. The silent black welcomed her, curling around her in all its wonderful, silky coolness. Wherever she ended up when the spell dumped her, it had to be better than where she’d been.

Did I do it? Have I escaped? Will this take me to my family?

The male whisper didn’t return, but deep inside, where she’d once believed in more than pain, where she’d once believed in her own power, she felt hope again brush along her gently.

Chapter One

Torque examined the bustling immortal marketplace with distaste. The Midpass was deep underground, situated in an enormous cavern far beneath where humans would think to look. Glowing spells filled the place with the semblance of a summer day’s bright light. Trees grew, and some of the immortals who called this place home had gardens bursting with fresh vegetables and fruits rare above ground. All in all, the entrance to Midpass looked like a gypsy caravan and a circus all rolled into one. Litter filled the corners and nooks of the packed dirt roadway. Vendors of all shapes and sizes—and races—hawked wares that were illegal in most realms, including this one.

Why did the Immortal Council allow such latitude? He’d spotted at least a dozen banned substances, mostly poisons any decent witch fresh out of the top ten Mage Schools could conjure, true, but still prohibited from the safe territories carved out by the Council.

Two feet away, across a low table covered in a purple and silver cloth, a young red-haired witch gave him an even look from where she was obviously dealing in tricky spells and illegal tonics. Her rickety three-legged round table was set up next to a more traditional and more solid wand maker’s tent. She cocked her head to the side, as if to dare him to say a word, and grinned slyly when he didn’t.

What could he say? He was here for a meeting, not to enforce Council laws. The battle with the Death Stalkers, the lowlifes of the Immortal World and his biggest pain in the ass, continued. Tonight his meeting was so secret, the highest members of the Council had refused to meet anywhere but in a completely neutral location. As if the Council’s chambers weren’t safe enough.

The thought was disturbing.

Torque shrugged away his misgivings, and kept walking, scanning the crowded market streets as he went in search of Jaxon, a vampire he’d told to rendezvous with him prior to the scheduled meeting. He needed to pin down the rugged fighter concerning his investigating into the buzz of Death Stalker activity in human clubs. The night-time events weren’t all he needed to talk to Jaxon about, though. He’d heard other rumours as well. Insinuations concerning Jaxon’s extracurricular activities that Torque hoped simply weren’t true.

The playboy vamp never set his sights on any particular woman over another, yet tales whispered he’d begun stalking a human coffee shop girl for much more than a sip and run. Some even said the ill-tempered bastard was drinking coffee and mooning over the girl.

Of that, he wasn’t so sure. He’d never witnessed Jaxon take anything seriously, especially not women. Torque couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy do more than entertain humans as potential donors and some fun in the sack. If he didn’t know better, Torque would almost think Jaxon needed sex as much as he did. Sex powered Torque’s magic. Jaxon was a vampire, not a member of the magic folk.

An elder, bent at the waist and walking with a noticeable limp, abruptly stumbled into him, drawing Torque’s attention back where it needed to be. He hauled the old man up by the back of his cloak. One shake and Torque’s wallet and keys fell out and into his outstretched hand.

Blurry blue eyes peered up at him anxiously. The old craggy face was, grooved already with lines of his age, deepening with a nervous smile. “Aye there, sonny, no offence meant, eh?”

Torque scowled at the guy’s garlic breath and shook his hair out of his eyes as an excuse to move away from him. “None taken, but next time I take a hand.”

The old guy paled but must have had trusted Torque meant it. He suddenly straightened his rounded posture and walked off in a much faster and more even pace in the opposite direction.

Scowl hardening, Torque simply put his wallet back in his leather trench coat and pocketed his keys. Everyone needed a place, he supposed. The Midpass Market teemed with immortals, many of them enemies outside of the ‘fight free zone’. The Midpass was an in-between safety zone for immortals—all except the Death Stalkers could enter. Spells held the death dealers at bay, spells even Torque would have trouble unravelling. They didn’t stop sympathisers from entrance though, and many took precautions walking into some of the more poorly lit districts. The alleyway he turned down looked worse than ever, Torque mused, stepping around a group of laughing younglings all smoking fragrant weed and kicking at the garbage littering the packed earthen street.

The small hubs or neighbourhoods of immortals who called this place home had lived here for decades. The Immortal Council had sanctified the area centuries before. The Council was still responsible for guarding the communities. Some said with an iron fist. He didn’t believe such reports. After all, the Council didn’t patrol the streets as often as they should. No Death Stalker could step foot within the space they’d carved out, but any other immortal could and did without fear of harassment merely being who they were.

“Watch it, bloodsucker.”

Well, almost everyone. Torque turned his head in time to spot Jaxon over the milling crowd. The male stood at least six-four, nearly as tall as Torque. And the guy loved it. He used his size, and his vampire skills, to intimidate anyone he could. Right now, he looked to be using them on some of the wolf pack. Vampires still caused issues going anywhere other immortals gathered.

Dark-haired with startlingly blue eyes, the bloodsucker in question lifted his lip arrogantly to reveal the length of his fangs to the young wolf pup who’d just insulted him. An elder Lykae, one Torque knew well, stepped over to stand by the younger man, another Lykae in tow, if the sandy brown hair, brown eyes and lean, rangy muscled physique meant anything. Most members of the pack shared those signature looks, but not all. Torque in fact had some of the wolf blood running through his veins, not much but some. Yet he was black-haired and grey-eyed.

“Two seconds and you’re causing shit?” Torque murmured, coming up next to Jaxon.

Jaxon whipped his head around and gave him the ‘what the fuck’ look he was famous for. Torque resisted the urge to grin at him. Jaxon must have sensed it though because he crossed his arms over his chest and levelled him with a black look.

“Hey, I was talking to you, bloodsucker.”

Most vampires would go ape shit on stuff like that. Torque gave Jaxon credit, he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turned back to face the Lykae, popped a grin, and tipped his head at the young wolf, then ignored him again to say to Torque, “I dunno, it must be my glowing personality, or something.”

“Or something,” Torque muttered, nodding to the wolves. “We’re here on council business, Alex.” He turned to look over at the angry younger man, trying to place a name. Many of the Lykae served the council when they were of age to leave their pack. “Warren, isn’t it?”

The kid nodded after only a second of hesitation. Alex didn’t. The wolf was known for two things—protecting his clan, and his coldblooded methods for doing so. He was the most intense, most controlled wolf Torque had ever met.

“I’m aware of the council business. I was sent to sit in, druid.”

Druid? No one called anyone a druid any longer. Leave it to Alex to, though. His disdain of anything not Lykae was legendary. Torque ignored Jaxon’s smirk and scanned the crowds milling around them. The place was far more dangerous than it should be. Women didn’t tread the streets alone. No one really did. People gathered in clusters, or groups, or they hired guards. Even the little witchling back at the entrance had two guards at her stall. If he’d tried to stop her sales, he would have had a fight on his hands. The old pickpocket was an anomaly. No one really felt free from harm. Not here, not anywhere, if he were honest. 

He felt the blame even if he wasn’t directly responsible for the outcome. This place should be safe. The constant and ever-increasing struggle with the Death Stalkers had forced more and more of the Council’s attention on the battles, rather than protecting the outlying territories of free zones, but some of their efforts could have come here, to protect what they already had. He’d read the reports of the fights breaking out in the Midpass. Some of the eldest of the clans had packed up and left before choosing sides. Something the Council hadn’t followed up on.

He’d never realised it was this bad. He had his own battles. Midway wasn’t one of them, he reminded himself.

“Where do we meet?” Alex asked.

He focused back on Alex and jerked his chin towards the people already watching them with interest. “Not exactly the place to talk. The old coliseum, below level. There should be a guard.”

Alex didn’t bother to look around. He simply nodded sharply, eyed Jaxon with distaste, and headed off with the two younger pack members by his side.

“Yeah, it’s my personality.” Jaxon exhaled. “It’s a burden, man, really.”

“Cut the shit. Have you taken a look around this place?”

Jaxon shook his head with a sneer. He’d planted his fists on his lean hips, making his heavy leather trench coat open on the sides like bat wings. “Same shit, different day. Where’s the goods, and why call me in on this? You know I hate the Midpass. And if you think I’m sitting in, you’re wasting your time.”

“I need you at the council meeting, but we need to catch up on the club.”

Jaxon groaned. “And you want me to do what? Fill in the overstuffed council all about the news?”

Torque shrugged. “I thought we’d get this done, then hit the club afterwards. The council needs to know, and possibly come with us to investigate.” Why did Jaxon always push his buttons? The guy acted like he had no interest in the growing numbers of Death Stalkers. Nothing seemed to matter to him—living, dying or whatever vampires called their half-lives simply rolled off Jaxon’s back like he didn’t have a care which way the world turned. Maybe he wasn’t acting, maybe he really didn’t care. Torque couldn’t imagine being so blasé. “Don’t you give a shit about anything?”

Jaxon twisted his neck around to watch a slim nymph walk by in barely anything more than fairy dust and some leaves.

“Jax!” Torque barely kept the growl out of his voice.

Snapping his attention back to Torque, he winked. “Sure. Me, myself, and I. I care a hundred per cent about that. Otherwise, nah, not worth it.”

“Really? Interesting. I heard a different story about your sudden taste for coffee. Seems you’ve found something—”

A glimpse of something caught Torque’s attention and he turned, breaking off in mid-lecture to stare off into the crowd. He spotted a slaver’s mark hanging from the doorway of an archaic-looking cathedral. When had the council last visited the Midway? No wonder the Death Stalkers flourished. Ahead of him, through the crowd, he spotted a blonde head then, when a burly shoulder blocking his view shifted out of his way, golden skin and a face came into view then vanished.

“Did you see that?”

He turned his head to glance over at Jaxon, but the vampire scanned the crowd, suddenly alert.

“Yeah, I saw her. Pretty, blonde, witch.”

Pretty? She was damn near too beautiful to look at straight on. Like staring at the sun.

* * * *

The free fall lasted long enough for Susanna to panic. In the darkness of a travel spell, there was no time, no sound, no comfort at all but the sound of blood pumping through veins. She counted, remembering to silence her fears and concentrate. Before she reached twenty, bright light burst along her senses and the sound, smells, and feel of cobblestones beneath her bare feet brought a rush of tears to her eyes. Emotions, hundreds upon hundreds of emotions hit her empathy and nearly brought her to her knees. Quickly, she built up her mental walls, reinforcing them with a softly spoken spell she’d learned as a child.

All around her she spotted people. All shapes, sizes, gender and races. Immortal warriors strode alongside tiny pixies while old hags complained in loud, shrill voices to vendors selling goods.

A glance around, and she swallowed past her fear. Midway. She was in Midway. It had to be. She’d heard of the place, but had never ventured here for anything. Her herbs and spells could be created with what she grew, or if not that, what she found in the hidden markets along the witches’ corridors of most mortal cities. This though, this was crazy. She’d never seen so many races all side by side and while they weren’t exactly talking, they weren’t drawing swords either.