The Chosen Soul (15 page)

for good.”

Loki blinked, glanced at Summer, who smiled, and then looked back up at the

acolyte. “Very well. Show me what to do.”

*****

Heather Killough-Walden

Something was on her legs. She tried to move them and nudge it off, but whatever it

was, it was so weighty, her limbs wouldn’t budge. Her body felt heavy, and it took far

more effort than it should have for her to open her eyes.

When she did, it was to find herself staring into the emerald green gaze of a man

dressed in brown leather armor. Her brow furrowed. Her brain was fuzzy, but a reluctant

memory presented itself. A room at an inn. The door breaking. Men in studded armor –

hurting Loki – and then darkness.

She attempted to rise. She was able to come to a sitting position before she realized

that her wrists were bound with wide suede straps which were connected to a loose chain.

The man in brown armor held the chain in one gloved fist. Her legs were bound as well,

but with manacles that were fastened to the bedpost near her ankles. A familiar,

nauseating fear welled up inside of her. Her mouth went dry, her head began to pound.

She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, but there was no moisture

there, and she felt as if she were choking on rust.

The man smiled. Raven’s stomach clenched.

“Where am I?”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes moving over the contours of her lovely face,

taking in the exquisite details of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the milky smooth

shoulders beneath her scant clothing. His gaze stopped where the material of her night

shirt began. And then he was peering into her eyes again, his sinister smile never

wavering.

Without saying a word, he turned and connected the end of the chain he was holding

to a hook that dangled from the center of the ceiling. Then he turned away and paced to

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the other end of the room. He leisurely pulled off his gloves, laying them on a table,

beside a small crystal decanter filled with red liquid.

“For the time being, you are under my protection.” He filled a small crystal glass

with some of the liquid and then re-stopped the bottle. When he turned to her again, it

was to stride across the room and offer her the glass.

Though her wrists were tied, she would have been able to hold the glass easily. She

eyed the liquid for a moment. It looked sweet, and she was thirsty. But she had no

intention of taking it from him.

“Suit yourself.” He then finished off the last of the liquid himself. “Elven wine.

There isn’t anything quite like it. You truly missed out.”

Her eyes narrowed. She thought of Loki, who was wounded, perhaps dead, and a

modicum of the fear she was feeling was replaced with something much stronger.

“Who are you and why am I here?” she demanded, her voice now taking on a low,

dangerous note that rumbled with an odd, almost unnatural tone.

His eyebrow arched inquisitively. He’d noticed the sound.

He moved to a chair across from the bed, sat down, and propped his feet up onto a

nearby table. “Very well. If you must know, I am Talon. And you are here because I

kidnapped you.”

Raven’s fists clenched. “
Why
did you kidnap me?” The oddly alluring rumble in her

voice had intensified.

Her abductor watched her very carefully, his interest clearly piqued.

“I kidnapped you – or, rather, my men and I kidnapped you – because we are slavers

and you can bring in a precious coin.”

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At once, his expression took on a puzzled look, and he stood. He approached her in

two long strides, never taking his eyes off of her. She forced herself not to cower or

retreat on the bed. He knelt gracefully before her, elbow propped up on one knee, his fist

beneath his chin. He cocked his head to one side, contemplating her closely.

Raven held her breath.

“Interesting,” he whispered as he peered into her eyes. “You have the most unique

eyes I have ever seen. Something...” He straightened and gazed down at her, the

expression on his face now much more serious than it had been. “Yes, you will bring a

precious coin indeed.”

He turned away from her and made his way back to the table with the decanter.

“Seeing as how you apparently possess some sort of,” he glanced back at her over his

shoulder, “well,
enchantment
, there is really only one client suitable for you.”

Raven sat, somewhat stunned, watching him pour another drink. Could he tell who

she was? She hadn’t done anything. What had he seen in her eyes?

She looked away from him and thoughts of escape chased each other through her

mind. “Who?”

He turned around to face her and leaned back against the table as he pulled his gloves

back on. “Why, Prince Astriel, of course.”

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The Chosen Soul

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Eleven

Talon smirked at her from where he stood, leaning casually against the wine table.

Raven narrowed her gaze. She could feel her power swimming beneath the surface,

waiting for her to call it forth.

She thought of changing into Winter’s stronger form, but something felt
off
inside.

Unlike when she’d been in Caina, it now felt as if her other form were a bit further away,

a little more out of reach. Instinctively, she knew it would be a struggle to transform. She did not know why, but her strength was somehow diminished. The change would take too

long. Talon would most certainly get to her before she could finish.

No, she would not be able to change.

But
some
magic was still there.

“I’m not afraid of you, slaver, or of the Prince.”

Talon’s brow arched. “Oh? I’m impressed, then. Not many little girls would claim

such a thing.”

She reached down deep within herself. And when she spoke again, her voice was

unrecognizable.

“
Release me
.”

In a flash, her eyes went solid black, from corner to corner.

Talon stared at her, his own eyes widening. “What
are
you?”

She was caught up in it now. A breeze began to pick up in the room, and thin

parchment sleeves lifted off of the desk top, to spin about dizzyingly.

“
Release me
!”

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Heather Killough-Walden

The small crystal cup that sat near its matching decanter on the table exploded

sending shards of precious glass soaring through the air in every direction. Amazingly,

none came anywhere near Raven, but Talon hissed and cursed vehemently when a large

shaving glanced across his cheek bone, slicing deep. Almost immediately, blood began to

well from the clean wound. Raven smiled.

When he turned to her again, it was with murder in his eyes. He strode to the bed

and grabbed her roughly by the back of her hair. She cried out with the pain as he brought

his face within inches of hers.

“Witch! You think you can defy me?” His other hand began pulling something out of

a pouch on his leather armor. “Do you have any idea how much that crystal is worth?”

Raven screamed as Talon threw her body down to the bed and held her there with

one bent leg. She tried desperately to see what he was doing but could only make out

some sort of bottle before he viciously pulled her hair. She sucked in a breath and winced

under his brutal grasp.

“If I didn’t think you could more than make up for the cost, I would teach you a

lesson in manners right here and now.”

Not again.

And then she smelled a familiar, bitter smell. It was the same acidic stench she’d

experienced when the slavers had drugged her with the cloth in the tavern. New fear

renewed her strength and she at once tried to kick and strike him. She flailed madly in her bonds, but her struggles only served to anger him further.

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He released her roughly and stepped back. From another pocket, he produced a small

white rag. Deftly, he poured some of the acrid smelling contents of the bottle onto the

rag.

“No…” Raven muttered, half to herself, half to the world. If it weren’t for the

entirely evil appearance of her pure black eyes, it would have been obvious to Talon that

she was terrified. As it was, however, she appeared nothing less than feral, and he wasn’t

going to have her harm him or herself before he received payment.

With the dampened cloth ready in one hand, he lunged toward her again.

A flash of blue white light illuminated the tent and everything within it. The blast of

brightness was blinding, bringing Talon to an abrupt stop. A wave of bitter cold poured

over him as it rippled out from some central point behind him. He straightened and

turned.

A man with pitch black skin and giant bat’s wings glared at him through narrowed

glowing eyes.

“Step away from her.”

“Adonides!” Raven cried out, relief flooding her system.

Talon gazed up at the powerful fiend, his jaw slack. The damp white rag slid from

his limp grasp.

“Make no mistake, mortal,” Adonides said as he stepped toward the master slaver.

“For your transgression, you
will
die. Whether I kill you with mercy or without it is all you can decide now.”

Talon took a step back, and his knee buckled. He stumbled, righted himself clumsily,

and made a half-hearted attempt at the exit.

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Heather Killough-Walden

Adonides waved his hand, as if swatting at a fly, and Talon was lifted off of his feet

and slammed down, flat onto his back, at the foot of the bed on which Raven sat. The

slaver lay there, not daring to move, his breath trembling audibly.

“Your Highness, you are entitled to his life,” Adonides then said, his voice at once

respectful and low as he bowed in place, his hand over his heart. “And so I offer it to you now.”

Raven blinked. What was he offering to her? The right to kill Talon? Her eyes

widened in surprise. Was this some sort of code amongst devils? She glanced down at the

man in front of her. He seemed so diminished, so much less frightening than he’d been

only seconds before.

She almost felt sorry for him.

But not quite.

She shook her head, slowly, and in the next instant, Adonides pulled the sword from

the scabbard at his belt and plunged its steely length into the man’s midsection. He sunk

it deep, effectively pinning the slaver to the ground.

Talon’s eyes went very, very wide. No sound escaped from his mouth. He moved his

lips, from which blood began to pool and pour, but silence was his only reward.

Raven felt bile rise in her throat.

Adonides waved his hand a second time, and the offending slaver was suddenly

gone. Without a trace.

The devil turned to Raven and knelt before her. Deftly and gently, he ran his

fingertips over the manacles around her ankles. They fell away at his touch. He freed her

wrists next, and all the while, she stared at him in disbelief.

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“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head.

Adonides rose then and offered her his hand.

She hesitated, not sure she was entirely ready to stand. But then she placed her hand

inside his and he helped her rise from the mattress. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

Strong hands on her arms steadied her, and the dizziness passed. Raven looked up at the

tall devil beside her. He smiled down at her, his white fangs flashing, his golden eyes

glowing.

Adonides waved his free hand in the air and spoke an enchantment. A hooded snow

white cloak of the richest velvet appeared, clasped between his fingers. He released her

hand and moved to stand behind her. Once there, he lowered the cloak over her shoulders

and fastened it around her neck.

She was instantly grateful for its warmth. The mid-summer’s morning was fair, but

she felt cold, and very weak. She pulled the cloak tighter around herself and strode to the tent entrance. Adonides followed closely behind. With a shaking hand, she pulled the flap

back and stepped outside.

Sprawled across a grassy field before her lay half a dozen dead men. Each bore

expressions of agony, frozen forever beneath the layer of ice coating their twisted bodies.

Raven stood stock still, her gaze moving from one corpse’s face to another. She

recognized one of the men who had captured her. He had deep furrows in one cheek,

where her nails had dug in.

Beside her, Adonides muttered several cryptic words and moved his arms. As

suddenly as Talon had disappeared, the dead men vanished. The grassy field was empty.

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Heather Killough-Walden

The tents were gone, the campfire and bodies were gone. All that remained were her and

her protector.

Raven continued to stare at the empty field for several minutes. Beside her, Adonides

allowed her the silence. And then Raven straightened a little and turned to face him.

In a voice not quite as steady as she would have liked, she said, “Perhaps you should

show me how you did that.”

*****

Astriel strode through the castle’s corridors, his cloak billowing out behind him, his

boots echoing coolly on the polished marble floors. He was distracted, his mind on