Surrender, Book 3 The Elfin Series (14 page)

T
he cab door was eerily loud as it slammed closed behind Elora. She paid the cabdriver and then turned to face the rundown motel as the car drove away, leaving her to an uncertain fate. Her immediate thoughts were of the Bates Motel but she quickly shoved those things from her mind. Perhaps, she would need to choose different things to watch on TV lest her imagination get the best of her. Then again, her reality had become much more bizarre than any television show, so it probably wouldn’t matter what she watched at that point. The fact of the matter was that she had been in Las Vegas for reasons she could no longer remember and now was standing in the swamp lands of Louisiana for reasons she did not understand. No, TV had nothing on her life.

As she began to walk, her feet didn’t take her to the motel but, rather, past it instead to a dirt road that had
past murder scene
written all over it. But no matter what her rational mind was telling her to do, as in run like hell in the opposite direction, her feet continued forward.

“Cue the creepy music as the dumb blonde heads straight for her killer, all the while thinking she’s being sneaky,” Elora mumbled to herself as she walked deeper into the marshland. At first, she attempted to keep her feet from getting too muddy, but after half a mile she realized it was futile. Her shoes kept sinking down into the muck and pretty soon she was caked from the tip of her toe all the way up to her shins.

Unfamiliar sounds kept her constantly shifting her eyes from one direction to another. She scanned the ground in front of her for any signs of life, mostly alligators, but she was sure there were also other things living in the swamp that she’d rather not meet. As she pulled her foot from the deepening mud, the thick sucking sound of her shoe breaking free from the mire echoed off the trees around her. She once again felt that relentless stabbing in her gut. She stumbled as the pain intensified but righted herself before she could face plant into the swamp. Elora wanted to scream in frustration. But just as quickly as those feelings came, others followed just in their wake. And as a deep voice reached out to her through the sudden fog that she hadn’t even realized had formed around her, Elora felt her heart speed up and her feet eager to follow.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” the voice rumbled. “And I don’t know whether to be angry or accepting of this outcome.”

“Who are you?” Elora asked.

A man, no, not a man, she amended. A dark elf, materialized out of the fog less than ten feet from her. Her gut tightened as she looked at him and feelings of electricity ran over her flesh. It was the face from her mind, the one that kept popping up every time she attempted to think of reasons she shouldn’t be doing what she had been doing. She’d never met him and yet Elora wanted to throw herself into his arms.

“I am Tarron and you, lovely dark beauty, are mine.”

T
arron stared at Cassandra’s best friend partly in shock and partly in awe. Raw emotions were pouring through him as he drank her in. He knew the spell hadn’t worked correctly―and knew he should be angry―but as his eyes roamed over the female in front of him, he found that the only emotion he could feel was need. He needed her. He
wanted
her. She wasn’t the right one. She wasn’t his choice and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tarron knew that this was the spell at work. Chamani was a powerful priestess with old magic coursing through her veins. She had worked a love spell with the blessing of her goddess and it had done its job. It just happened to have landed on the wrong person.

He took a step toward her and when she didn’t back away he took another and another until he was standing a foot from her. He was close enough to touch her, close enough to smell her, and her scent was better than the sweetest, ripest fruit. Her dark hair was a beautiful contrast to her creamy, fair skin.

“Why is this happening?” Elora asked him as her eyes met his.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he admitted. “But I can’t say that I’m disappointed. I actually think you might be a better fit for me. You aren’t fully human. I can feel it. I can feel the darkness in you.” Tarron couldn’t feel her soul. He never would be able to; it wasn’t how magic worked. It couldn’t make them soulmates; it could only manufacture the emotions that soulmates feel.

“Who was it supposed to be?” she asked interrupting his thoughts.

He clenched his teeth together as he considered the changes he would have to make to his plan. Triktapic wouldn’t be nearly as affected as he would have been if it had been his Chosen who was taken. It wouldn’t destroy the king to see Elora in Tarron’s arms, not like seeing Cassandra would have. But it would certainly do some damage to Cassandra to see her best friend captivated by the dark elf.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here with me.” Tarron reached out his hand and slowly took hers. It was cool and clammy. The slight tremor in it had him pulling her closer to him. To his surprise he found himself wanting to comfort her, to reassure that he wouldn’t hurt her. Was it the magic? Was it something else entirely? The better question was, did he care?

“Walk with me,” he said as he threaded her fingers through his. Elora still looked very confused and unsure but she went with him without hesitance. Tarron knew that he’d have to take her back to the priestess’s shack, but he wanted some time with her before he had to deal with how she would handle him holding Cassandra’s parents hostage. He wanted to woo her and, perhaps, win a little bit of her heart, not just hold her because of the thrall of the spell. But that would take time.

“I honestly don’t know why I felt compelled to come here,” she told him as he helped her maneuver around fallen trees and soft land.

“Do you believe in such a thing as soulmates?” Tarron asked her.

Elora suddenly clutched her chest with her free hand and leaned over groaning as though she were in pain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, truly concerned.

She started shaking her head and he leaned down to see her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, though her eyes were clenched tightly shut.

“Elora, tell me what it is.”

“I can’t. I don’t know. It’s been happening since I left Las Vegas. I just . . .  this . . . this pain it grips my insides and feels as though it’s going to rip my organs from my body. I can’t breathe.” She struggled to speak while attempting to suck in air at the same time.

Tarron knew then what it was. Anger rushed through him like hot lava running down the side of a mountain. It burned his insides as he thought of her mate. Elora was a Chosen to a warrior. Being separated from him unwillingly would cause her pain and it would only get worse. He released her hand, afraid that he would crush it in his wrath. He didn’t want to share her. Elora had not been the female he had wanted, but now she was all he wanted. As he stared down at her while she was clutching her body in pain, he considered his options. Perhaps, there was a stronger spell, something that would make her soul separate from its mate. Until then he would have to intervene so that she wouldn’t be in pain. He laid a hand on her head, pushing his power into her. He caught her just before she hit the ground. Tarron swung her up into his arms and clenched her tightly to his chest. She would sleep until he could figure out a way to separate her from the light elf warrior. She would be his. How had the little dark half human so thoroughly ensnared him that he was willing to give up his plans? He still wanted to see the elf king destroyed, but it was no longer his sole purpose. Holding Elora in his arms he felt an emptiness inside of him being filled, one that he hadn’t even realized had been there. Whatever the priestess had done through that spell, it was much stronger than even Tarron had known it would be.

“Sleep well, Elora. Soon enough you will wake and want only me,” he whispered to her as he started off in the direction of Chamani’s little shack. He had work to do and he was eager to be done with it so that he could take Elora away back to his realm and a life with him. Tarron didn’t want to think about why he felt such things. He would deal with the reasons later, after he figured out what bargain he would have to strike with the Voodoo goddess to make Elora forget her soul mate.

E
lora wanted to scream but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. She felt trapped in her own body unable to move or open her eyes. She’d heard the elf’s voice, the one that called himself Tarron, but she couldn’t focus on his words through the pain that was assaulting her. Elora felt as though every one of her nerve endings was being rubbed raw, as if they were being exposed to the elements. She hurt from the tips of her toes all the way to her head. Even her eyes hurt as though she’d held them open for too long staring at the sun. Never before had she felt such agony and she hoped that when it was over, if it was ever over, that she’d never have to feel it again.

Elora didn’t know where Tarron was taking her, but she hoped that it was somewhere or to someone that could help her. And if there was no one that could help her then she hoped her suffering ended quickly. She was pretty sure death would be better than what she was feeling in that moment.

Elora gasped as she heard a roar in her mind. She could feel something, or someone calling to her, reaching for her―no, not her, for her soul. She felt her soul’s response as it reached back in a desperation that surprised her.
You will not die.
The voice was strong, fierce, and gone just as quickly as it had come. Elora felt a level of despair that she’d never known as her soul shrunk back inside of her. It was strange to think of her soul as a separate entity from herself, and though she knew they were one in the same, she felt a distinct split between them. Her soul wanted someone that her mind did not remember, wanted him with such need that being separated from him was slowly destroying her. Elora wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she was sure if she didn’t reunite her soul with the one she needed it would damage her in an irreparable way.

But even as she thought of leaving Tarron to find this other person, her mind shut down, attempting to remove all desire for such things. Elora was sure she’d never again have to wonder what it was like to be schizophrenic because, in that moment, she was split completely in half. She just had to figure out which was stronger―her mind or her soul?

Chapter 9

“Sometimes in life we plan for one thing, but then, just like the wind can change directions in an instant, our plans are blown away and we are suddenly headed in the opposite direction. Then we face a new question. Is this new direction better or worse than our original plan? Regardless, can we even do anything about it?” ~Cush

C
ush took the keys for the rental car from the skinny, pimple-faced boy on the other side of the counter. It had been very difficult for the warrior to keep himself from jumping over the counter and just grabbing the first set of keys he came to. The human moved entirely too slow for his liking but he managed to somehow keep his composure.

Oakley was waiting for him on the curb outside by a sign that declared the parking lot beyond as Rental Vehicles. His hands tapped restlessly against his legs to a beat only he could hear. Cush knew that his Chosen’s brother was almost as eager to find her as he was.

“Ready?” Oakley asked as he turned toward the parking lot.

Cush held up the keys and pressed the door unlock button on the key fob. Amidst the rows of black, white, and silver cars and SUVs, the lights on a bright yellow Jeep Wrangler lit up the dim area.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Cush muttered. Now he knew why the pimple faced boy was wearing the sly grin that Cush had thought he’d imagined as he turned to leave.

“What exactly did you tell him we needed?” Oakley asked as he choked back a laugh.

“All I said was that we were touring the swamps.”

“Maybe this is their designated swamp touring vehicle.”

Cush stepped off the curb toward the ridiculous yellow Jeep and motioned the human to follow. “Just shut up and get in.”

Cush set the GPS to the address of the hotel, which he’d received from Trik while they had been waiting to board the plane. With the pain inside of him growing more intense, he shoved the manual transmission into first gear and headed in what he hoped was Elora’s direction.

A little over an hour later, they pulled into the parking lot of the rundown motel. Oakley let out a low whistle as they climbed out of the Jeep. “Wow, they really went all out on this place. Any nicer and I’d think we were at the Ritz.” 

“Considering we haven’t seen much of anything but swamp for miles, I don’t think they had to worry too much about their competition,” Cush pointed out.

“So what do we do now?”

Cush folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned his back against the grill of the Jeep. “Now we wait.”

“Waiting sucks,” Oakley grumbled as he mimicked the warrior’s pose.

“It is the same in any century. Waiting never gets easier,” Cush said as he stared out into the vast swamp. His eyes were narrowed searching for any sign of movement. Trik had mentioned in his text that they would be heading into the swamp that morning to speak with a Voodoo woman. How on earth the woman factored into Elora’s whereabouts he did not know, but with the possibility that Voodoo magic was involved, the tension in him had risen to an explosive level.

Only a few minutes passed when Oakley unfolded his arms and pushed away from the Jeep. “Really, we’re just going to stand here and wait on them to come back, when we don’t even know
if
they will come back? Trik said they were meeting some creepy Voodoo chick, right? So how do we know that she hasn’t worked some Voodoo mojo on them? How can you stand there all calm and stoic when your king and my sister’s best friend might be out there being dangled over the water as gator bate in some weird Voodoo ritual?”

Cush watched the rant with a calm face, though he felt anything but calm on the inside. When Oakley finally finished he let out a long sigh. “Make no mistake boy, there is nothing calm about what I am feeling. And you’re right, I can’t just stand here. Not when she’s out there in the hands of a mad dark elf.”

A slow grin started to spread across the human’s face and a glint that would surely lead to no good shone in his eyes. “Does that mean we aren’t just going to stand here like two toads shooting the breeze?”

Cush shook his head as he pushed away from the vehicle. “I don’t know where humans get their sayings from, but I’m thinking it’s time to find a new source when you start comparing yourself to toads.”

Oakley started to respond but Cush held up a hand to stop him. “We’re going but you have to do everything I say. If I say jump—”

“I know, I say
how high
,” Oakley interrupted.

Cush’s looked at him with narrowed eyes as he tilted his head to the side. “No, I was going to say if I tell you to jump then you jump without hesitation. If you stop to ask how high, you’ve already disobeyed the command, and you’re probably dead.”

“You’re right,” Oakley declared. “You really don’t get human sayings.”

Cush didn’t respond, instead he turned and started walking toward the thick, moss covered trees. He didn’t look back to see if Oakley was following. He had a feeling his Chosen’s brother wouldn’t last long in the bayou without him and the human was well aware of it.

“So what about the alligators?” Oakley asked as he jogged to catch up.

“What about them?” From the corner of his eye, Cush saw the boy shrug.

“They sort of live in the type of swamps we are currently walking into,” Oakley pointed out.

“I guess it’s a good thing I have you with me.”

“Why would that be?”

A slow smile spread across Cush’s usually indifferent face. “I’m pretty sure I run faster than you.”

Oakley’s lips pursed together as he shoved his hands into his front pockets. “I hate that I never know when you’re being serious or when you’re joking.”

“Didn’t Elora tell you? Elves don’t joke. She claims we have no sense of humor.”

Cush led them deeper into the trees until they could no longer see the motel behind them. They were shrouded in a forest filled with secrets and shadows. Water sloshed in the bogs around them as unfamiliar sounds rang out in a chorus like a rehearsed anthem. Tree branches stretched out above their heads dripping moss like streams of green blood.

The setting itself was enough to make most turn back and run for the cover of even a dilapidated roach motel, but that wasn’t why Cush had to force his feet to move forward. He could feel the evil that had no doubt lived in that swamp for decades and probably longer. On the outside it coated his skin like thick oil, but on the inside it moved like a slithering snake searching out his weaknesses to use against him. Cush felt his own magic rise up in retaliation to the intrusion and shove the presence from his body. He heard a gurgling sound from behind him and whipped around to find Oakley grabbing at his neck attempting to loosen a noose that was not there.

“It’s an illusion, Oakley,” Cush calmly told him as he stepped toward the struggling boy. “It isn’t real. You have to tell yourself and believe it is not real.”

As Oakley continued to gag, Cush realized that Elora’s brother wasn’t going to be able to obey that command. He was too far gone, caught in the web of whatever malevolence had taken root in the eerie swamp. Suddenly Oakley doubled over. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and his hands gripped his head as though it had splintered into pieces, and he was attempting to hold it together. His eyes had lost all recognition of reality and Cush could tell that he was trapped inside whatever it was that was holding him hostage. He rushed forward and shoved Oakley’s hands away and replaced them with his own. Cush reached for the magic bestowed upon him by the Forest Lords. It was a part of who he was, and just like any elf he could wield it for good or evil. Light emanated from his hands and flowed into Oakley. He sought out the malicious presence that he had felt trying to enter his own mind and radiated the light into it. Cush broke up the bleak darkness that was attempting to take over Oakley’s mind. It had found his greatest weaknesses in the deep places that only Oakley himself knew about. The presence was attempting to use those weaknesses against him, creating a level of fear in the human that was crippling.

Gradually the grip it held on him faded and was replaced by Cush’s power. Oakley straightened and the light that had faded from his eyes returned and his face relaxed.

“Better?” Cush asked.

Oakley nodded but still seemed unable to speak. Cush gave him a few minutes to gather himself.

“What was that?” Oakley finally asked.

“It was whatever dark spirit that has occupied this swamp for a very long time. Apparently it doesn’t like us being here.”

Oakley shook his head. “That is some messed up crap.”

“Welcome to the world of Voodoo.”

“What? You mean like those little dolls they make to look like real people so they can stab them?”

Cush nodded. “There’s actually more to it than that. Voodoo is a religion for some people. It’s their way of life.”

Oakley wiped his hands on his jeans. Though he was beginning to get some color back into his face he still looked a little shell shocked. “Is it all evil?”

“Well, considering the spirits that they worship are lost spirits from the underworld, yes, I would say it’s all evil,” Cush answered as he looked around them searching out the trees for any presence. He felt as though someone or something was watching them, like a spider eyeing a juicy fly that was getting closer and closer to its web. It was with that thought that Cush realized that staying in the parking lot to wait on Trik and the others might have been the wiser choice. But he was pretty sure that whatever was watching them wasn’t about to let them leave now that they’d walked into its domain.

“We are keepers of the secret,” Tamsin told the man who had revealed an opening in what appeared to be a solid wall. Syndra had only been to this particular club one other time, and she had vowed then not to return for any reason. But that was before
The Book of the Elves
had fallen into the hands of the dark elf king. The eyes of the tall doorman widened before he bowed and stepped aside.

“Welcome, King and Queen and consort,” the dark elf said stiffly before ushering them in and slamming the wall back into place. “Please, enjoy yourselves.”

“Not likely,” breathed Syndra as the trio pushed through the crowd.

“
This
is where the elders hang out?” Lisa was staring in awe at the bright flashing lights and the beautiful writhing bodies pressing all around her. Already she was unconsciously bobbing her head to the relentless drumming beat reverberating throughout the room.

“I know you’ve dealt with our kind for a long time, Lisa, but there is still a lot about us you do not know,” replied Tamsin. “Elders aren’t just old. They embody everything elvish—beauty, grace, and wisdom, sure, but also power, excess, and greed.”

“So they just hang out in clubs debasing and pleasuring themselves?”

“Some do, some don’t,” muttered Syndra. “They’re elders. The elvish trait they embody most of all is unpredictability. You get what you get with them.” Syndra’s eyes shifted around the room. It was clear from her wary look that she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“Are they here? Do you see any of them?”

“I don’t kn—”

“Well, well, well…a full-blown human and elvish royalty…isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Syndra was interrupted by a soft purring voice as the embodiment of masculine beauty stepped up to Lisa extending his hand in greeting.

“Can it, Rezer,” Syndra spat. She glanced at Lisa and whispered, “Hands in pockets, legs crossed.” Then she turned back to Rezer who was giving her a quizzical look as his eyes darted between her and Lisa. “We’re looking for the elders. We’re not here to play any games.”

“Ah, such a pity. This one looks like she needs a drink,” purred the elf and from out of nowhere a small glass filled with red liquid was in his hands and he passed the drink to Lisa. Lisa, who was somewhat used to dealing with the elves, had to admit she’d never seen anything like Rezer.

“Hm, hm,” Lisa muttered. She seemed to be entranced by Rezer and began to slowly reach for the glass, never taking her eyes off of the dark elf’s face.

“No, Lisa!” Syndra barked, knocking the glass to the floor where it shattered sending thousands of tiny slivers across the concrete. “You, of all humans, should know better than to take anything from a dark elf, especially in a place like this. And why are your hands out?”