The Soother (21 page)

Eron bristled.

Riona blew him a kiss. “I’ll give you your reward later.”

Calliope gagged. “Get a room, already.” What would Krystoff think of having this over-sized gorilla for a stepfather? Probably not much. Had Riona come five minutes earlier, Calliope could have asked him. Timing really was everything. By now, he and Scout should be far away from here, maybe even off the mountain completely. Calliope thanked the stars for that. She and Krystoff had a lot to sort out. They couldn’t do that if Riona killed him.

“Speaking of rooms,” Riona said. “I have one all set up for you.”

Death didn’t appeal to Calliope either. Even with her new strength, she didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed. “Yeah. No thanks,” she replied, backing up. “Your accommodations won’t be needed.”

Riona tsked. “Suit yourself. If you like sleeping outside on the damp ground, I won’t stop you. I just thought you’d prefer something a little more homey.” She narrowed her eyes. “Like my dungeon.”

Dungeon? How archaic.
“Like hell.” Calliope took off. Riona’s cackling echoed, cocooning her in false cheer. Riona wasn’t happy. Just demented. No matter which direction Calliope headed, the bitch’s laughter caught up to her, headed her off. Calliope weaved, circled, flashed, drifting farther and farther down the mountain and most importantly, father away from her coven. Still, the laughing ricocheted off the trees. She stopped to get her bearings. Big mistake. A web-like net fell from above and pinned her to the ground. She scrambled to get out from underneath it, but only managed to tangle herself more in the sticky web.

Several fae with black sparkling wings hovered nearby, whispering, watching. Only a handful were Calliope’s height, the rest not even half her size. Either way, she didn’t have a chance with the numbers stacked so high on their side. One of the smaller ones drifted close, studied her face with his golden eyes. His skin shimmered like crushed black diamonds. He turned and muttered something intangible to his clones. Calliope strained to decipher his words, but she didn’t know the language. Nor could she focus solely on his voice with all the others talking over one another. Their pointed ears twitched and the whispering suddenly stopped.

“Bring her to me.” Riona’s command sounded both near and far.

The fae swarmed Calliope, lifting the net and securing it tightly around her body. With her arms pinned, she had no way of fighting them off, no way of throwing her magick. A sickening sludge crept up her throat. She swallowed it back until it fell to the pit of her stomach. The only blessing she could find in this scenario was that at least she had been alone and far away from camp. She hoped her coven was safe.

Calliope kept silent as the fae flew her through the woods. Ideas formulated, but she ruled them out one by one. Getting out of this mess wasn’t going to be easy. Fear sliced her veins wide open when she saw Isabelle crouched behind a bush. Thankfully, the leaves hid everything but Isabelle’s eyes. Calliope held her gaze for a long time and issued mental orders knowing that indeed Isabelle would hear
. Stay here. Don’t come after me.

Isabelle shook her head, but Calliope shushed her with a slight shake of her own. The fae flew right past Isabelle without slowing. Hopefully that meant they hadn’t spotted her. Closing her eyes, Calliope continued her mental plea to Isabelle.

Tell Ambra to help you lead the coven away from here. Warn everyone. I’ll figure a way out of this. I mean it, Isabelle. Don’t come after me.

Isabelle didn’t respond and since Calliope couldn’t see her anymore, she didn’t know what to think. Calliope gritted her teeth, bore down harder, hoping to reach Ambra herself. She trusted Isabelle to deliver her message, but if she could warn her mother before Isabelle reached the hideout, the witches would have a head start. Calliope pulled her mother’s image into her mind’s eye and sent Ambra the same warning over and over again.
I’ve been captured. The enemy is near. I’ve been captured. The enemy is near. The enemy is near.

And then Calliope severed the connection, leaving her with a pounding headache. She just hoped Isabelle would listen and that her warning had reached Ambra. Calliope would figure a way out of this. Or she’d die trying.

Riona crossed her arms and waited. The witch wouldn’t get far. Now that she’d found her, she wouldn’t let her escape again. Her army shuffled impatiently behind her, more than ready to go home. She agreed. If Eron had handled his business days ago instead of defying her orders for his own masochistic reasons, they could have already been back in Mistropa. His punishment had not been severe enough. Riona looked forward to that task. Being away from the shadow realm had taken a toll. She hadn’t slept in her bed for far too many nights. The cool satin sheets would soothe her road-weary body. Her horde would walk amongst the shadows once again. All would be well. Soon.

“My lady. They’re coming.” Eron tilted his head, gesturing toward the dark woods.

Riona dropped her arms to her side and watched as her fae warriors drew closer, their gossamer wings generating only the whisper of a sound. In the black of night, they were virtually undetectable, which was why she almost always put them on the front line. No one ever saw them coming. Even now, she had to squint to see them until they broke through the trees. She tilted her head. The synchronization in which they flapped their wings was quite amazing to watch. One could become entranced if they stared for too long. She wasn’t that stupid. Any more. She’d learned her lesson long ago.

Riona blinked, and then cut her gaze to the gift the fae had brought her, all wrapped up in a pretty net. The interfering witch sat very still inside the black web, chewing on her lip as if she could think her way out of this situation. A hint of fear dimmed her wide blue eyes. Riona hadn’t felt giddy in a very long time, so when the feeling washed over her she almost didn’t recognize it — almost confused it for illness. She splayed a hand over the front laces of her corset. Pinpricks of excitement danced across her flesh, and delicious warmth spread from her belly to her feet. She smothered a laugh with the back of her hand. All she had ever needed was an opportunity. She hadn’t thought opportunity would come dressed in combat boots and ripped jeans, but here it was nonetheless.

One whiff of the Brennan girl’s blood and she’d known Krystoff had practically crawled inside the witch. His power was unmistakable. Soon it would be hers and with it, she’d conquer realm upon realm, adding to her reign. Beings would flock to her like they’d always flocked to Krystoff. Jealousy wasn’t something she was ashamed of because she wasn’t jealous, no matter what anyone else thought. All the whispers and snide looks meant nothing. No, she wasn’t jealous of Krystoff. She was angry with the lot in life Fate had handed her. Fate had gotten it all wrong. Twisted the threads until everything was backward, like a marionette headed for the land of nowhere rather than the region of everything. She was supposed to have doled out power, not have to beg and siphon it from her offspring. Where was the fairness in that?

Unfortunately for Krystoff, his insolence had made him too hard to love. His outright refusal to help his own mother had forced her hand. She would take every bit of power he had, saturate the earth of Mistropa with his spilled magick, and then she would kill him. All that magick, all his power, would finally be hers. Their last torture session had just been a prelude. The witch thought she had saved him from death. Riona had only planned to bring him to the brink of extermination, over and over again until he gave her what she wanted. Her plan may have been delayed, but it had not changed. She would have Krystoff’s knowledge, his power and every last drop of his magick. Then and only then would Krystoff breathe his last breath. Her next child, should she ever choose to have one, would be mothered with a much stronger hand.

That thought in mind, she reconsidered her plans for Eron. As long as he understood she would always take the lead, maybe she’d make him king after all. Couldn’t hurt to have someone carry out her commands. Especially someone as strong and virile as Eron. Of course, she’d have to have papers drawn up listing all the rules she’d force him to follow. Top of that list would be pleasuring his queen — whenever and however she wanted it. Unlike the giddy laughter, Riona didn’t even attempt to mask her shiver of excitement.

“Eron,” she said, purposely ignoring Krystoff’s witch. Let her squirm and sweat. “How do you feel about a November wedding?” Riona’s thoughts drifted. She could see it so clearly. Her seamstress would start on the gown immediately. A long train. Halter or maybe off-the-shoulder. No. That wouldn’t do. Definitely a high collar and a plunging neckline. Shimmering black. Perhaps she’d even use fae wings. Nothing shimmered like the real thing. Too bad for them wings didn’t regenerate. Well, there was nothing she could do about that. Priorities were priorities, after all.

Eron cleared his throat, narrowed his black eyes. “Whose wed — ”

Riona waved off his question with two fingers. She had more important things to do than enlighten Eron about his inevitable path. Besides, she’d rather deal with his royal enthusiasm in private. In fact, she looked forward to their engagement celebration. She’d teach him all about sexual gymnastics. Riona waved her hand in front of her face to cool her heated skin.

She turned her attention back to her hostage. “What’s your name again? I can’t seem to remember insignificant details.”

The witch lifted a defiant brow.

Riona drew in a long breath. “Eron?”

“Her name is Calliope,” he answered.

Calliope
. How utterly charming. “Well, Calliope Brennan, sister to the Luminary, whore to my son, obstructer of my justice … what do you have to say for yourself?” Riona extended her arm and pointed a finger at Calliope’s mouth, sealing her lips shut tight. Now she didn’t have to wonder whether the witch would answer her or not. The question was every bit as moot as Calliope was mute.

Calliope’s mouth twitched but never opened. Brows drawn low, she glared at Riona.

“What did you say? Oh, right. You didn’t say a word. Nor will you until I deem you worthy.” Spinning on her heel, Riona continued speaking to Calliope but made sure every member of her army heard her. “You will make great bait. I believe everyone here knows what happens to bait.” Riona looked over her shoulder and nailed Calliope with a hard stare. “Bait entices, and then bait dies.”

Eron laughed, obviously pleased with the promise of death. “Where to, my queen?”

Feeling euphoric, Riona smiled. “Why, back to Mistropa, of course.”

The horde roared its approval. Riona threw back her head and laughed as the witch struggled to break free of the web. Impossible.

Calliope had been trapped for less than ten minutes and her muscles were already cramping. Pain merged with the coldness of impending numbness, piercing and jabbing like electrical currents shocking her system. The stickiness of the webbed jail made her want to rip her flesh off. Her arms, glued against her sides as they were, took the brunt of the pressure. At least she could still move her head and shift her lower body, even if only slightly. She wanted to stand up and stretch. Scratch her tingling arms. Open her mouth, for that matter. None of that would be happening any time soon. She couldn’t do anything more than silently sit still and plot her escape. So far, the plot lacked substance, but she was working on that.

“A witch without magick isn’t much of a witch. She sure is a looker, though. Wouldn’t mind getting me a piece of that.” The whisper came from Calliope’s right.

Riona whirled, eyes narrowed to slits as thin as a dime. Her overabundant skirt swished until it settled in place around her lower body. Everyone stopped. Waited. Fear rippled through the air. Calliope turned her head and watched the show unfold as she bit down on her tongue and secretly attempted to collect her magick. They thought Calliope’s gift was bound, that she wouldn’t be able to call upon it because of some magical ward they had placed. Being altered may have changed all that. She couldn’t reach her magick easily, but she sensed it was there, simmering in her core, hushed as it was.

“Who said that?” Riona asked, her voice gritty like sandpaper on a chalkboard. Hands on her hips, she stomped her foot, demanding an immediate answer.

A shifter with frantic green eyes and long mahogany hair stepped forward. “I did, my queen.” He bowed. “My apologies.”

Calliope took in the shifter’s shaking hands. Shadowed or not, she felt sorry for him and wished her arms weren’t restrained so she could reach out and soothe him. Not that he’d allow the touch. Still, she’d try if she could.

Riona lifted her chin and slowly made her way to the shifter. She stopped when there was less than two inches between them and stared up into his paling face. She cupped him, digging her sharp nails into the crotch of his jeans. “You like the witch?”

“No, my … queen.” Breath rattling, his nose and mouth elongated into a muzzle. His face half-transformed as the shifter flashed back and forth between his wolf and human form.

Calliope cringed. If Riona could turn someone as strong as him into a quivering mass of goo, Calliope didn’t stand a chance.

“No?” Riona’s expression softened. She released his balls and patted his cheek. His breath whooshed out. “You’re a poor liar,” she said and tsked. “Unlucky for you that your cock speaks the truth.” Her face contorted into madness. She stepped back and slammed her knee into his groin.

The shifter doubled over, panting and moaning, clutching his parts with both hands.

“Eron!” Riona bellowed. “Kill him!” Her shriek made Calliope’s eardrums clatter.

The shifter shook his head like he was having convulsions. His long hair whipped at his face with each frenzied swivel of his corded neck. “It won’t happen again.” His pulse hammered through the bulging veins in his forehead.

Eron laughed and Calliope had to swallow back bile. The bastard practically glowed as he sliced the shifter’s jugular with one swift swipe of his short blade. Calliope leaned to the left as fast as she could, but she wasn’t able to dodge the spray of blood. Splatter hit her eyes. She couldn’t see a damn thing. With a disgusted groan, she lifted her shoulder and bent her head to wipe away the blood.