Текст книги "A fire in the flash"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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I moved to the side, in front of the bed, and carefully extended my arm through the bars. I flung the key into the cage, watching it slide deep beneath the bed.

“Just in case,” I told myself as I spun. If I ended up back in the cage, I’d at least have a key.

The shadowstone was cold beneath my feet as I crossed the chamber. My mind quieted when I neared the doors. It was almost like donning the veil of nothingness because I felt nothing. No fear for my life. No fear of failure. That had been trained out of me, but unlike the times my mother had sent me to deliver her messages, I didn’t feel like a monster.

I felt like vengeance and wrath come to life.

The embers in my chest hummed. Cleaning my hand on my gown, I curled my fingers around the gilded door handle. I doubted these were unguarded.

Opening it, I kept myself hidden and pressed against the wall. A second later, I saw that I’d been right. Through the crack between the door and wall, I saw a guard’s white and gold armor.

I waited, knowing it was likely a god, and there could be more. There should be, but only the one entered.

One?

Kolis only had one guard stationed outside the chamber. Seriously?

I was kind of offended.

The moment the guard caught sight of the mess in the cage, he halted. “What the—?” He cursed, gripping the edge of the door and moving to close it.

I struck, pushing off the wall. Gripping the back straps of his chest armor, I thrust the glass into the base of the guard’s skull as I leapt, driving my knee into the center of his back.

The god grunted, staggering forward under my weight and the unexpected blow. He went down on one knee, his hand reaching for the hilt of the short sword at his waist.

“I don’t think so,” I snarled, wrenching the god’s head sharply to the side. The crack of bone was sickening yet satisfying.

I didn’t think a broken neck would keep a god down for long, but shadowstone? That would. Leaving the fractured glass cock embedded in the back of the god’s skull, I reached for the sword—

The air charged around me as I unsheathed it. I could feel it dancing across my skin when the god straightened his neck. The cracking of bone turned my stomach as he planted his palm on the floor. Bluish-red blood darkened his brown hair.

“You fucking bitch,” he spat. “What in the fuck is in the back of my head?”

“A cock.” I lifted the sword.

“What?” The god froze.

“A glass cock,” I said with a smile, driving the blade down.

The shadowstone cut just below the bulge of glass protruding from the base of his skull, silencing whatever the god was about to say. The blade cleaved through bone and tissue with little resistance, ending the rapidly building power.

Stepping back, I ignored the warm pulse of the embers—the urge to undo what I’d done. To restore life, not take it.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Sword in hand, I turned to the door, finding a sunlight-filled hall—a breezeway of sorts. Closing the door behind me, my gaze darted to the leafy palms beyond the rounded archways. Ahead was another door, and to my left, a solid wall made of gold and marble. Fine cracks had formed webs all along the surface.

I didn’t want to go farther inside if this was Cor Palace. But what if Ash was being held somewhere in there? Kolis had ordered Attes to take him to the cells. The House of Haides in the Shadowlands had cells beneath the sprawling structure. So did Wayfair Castle, my home in the mortal realm.

“Shit.”

I probably should’ve attempted to question the guard first. Then again, that wouldn’t have been wise. It would’ve only given the god time to use eather, and that was something I couldn’t fight.

I had a choice to make, and I had to decide quickly. Go into the palm trees and see where that led, or travel farther into the palace.

Ash would not be in the palms.

Grip firming on the sword’s hilt, I stalked forward. A warm breeze wafted through the opening, sending several pale curls speckled with blood across my face. I reached the door at the end of the hall and yanked it open.

It was a chamber—a bedchamber—darkened by drawn, heavy curtains. The smell of stale lilacs was strong here, and I had a sinking suspicion this was Kolis’s room.

Situated against one wall was a large, unmade bed. Clothing lay strewn across the floor. White pants. Tunics. Bowls of fruit sat on a dining table. Crystal decanters were everywhere: on the nightstand, the table, and the end tables by a large sofa, some half full of amber-hued liquid, others empty.

Did Kolis overindulge to help him forget the atrocities he committed? I snorted. That would mean he actually felt bad about what he did, and from what I’d seen and knew, I didn’t think that was the case.

I headed for the double, gold-plated doors and pushed one side open.

A wider, absurdly long hall greeted me, windows and alcoves lining one side and doors on the other. Either luck or the Fates were on my side today because the hall was empty, and no hot, breathy sounds came from the alcoves as they had when Ash and I had first come to Dalos.

I went forward, trying each door as I passed. Some were locked. Those that weren’t were either completely empty spaces or contained only narrow beds, barely more than cots. Some rooms held four to five of them.

I didn’t want to even think about what those chambers and beds were for.

I kept going, searching for any door that may lead to a stairwell, all the while afraid that it would be like the House of Haides, where the entrance to the underground level was near the study and close to the throne room.

Well aware that Callum could wake at any moment, I picked up my pace, trying door after door until I found one that opened into a narrower corridor. I entered, scanning the numerous wider openings framed by gold-plated columns on both sides of the hall. My skin tingled as I picked up on the whispering sound of cloth.

My steps slowed when I neared an opening to my left. I peered around one of the columns and felt the air leave my lungs in an unsteady rush.

I had to be right about being in Cor Palace.

Because all I saw was white.

White robes and veils that covered nearly every inch of those inside the sunny, airy space. There had to be dozens of them. They stood by windows, sat on thick, ivory-and-gold-tasseled cushions. If any of them spoke, they did so quietly.

They were the Chosen, brought to Iliseeum during the Rite to serve the Primals and their gods. Because they were the third sons and daughters, they had more essence of the gods in their blood than their siblings did, which allowed them to be Ascended into godhood—a tradition revered in the mortal realm and once honored in Iliseeum for the purpose it served. It replenished the realm of gods with those who remembered what it was like to be mortal.

But none of them Ascended. Not since Eythos ruled.

Now, the Chosen were ushered into a waking nightmare.

Gemma, one of the Chosen Ash had saved, said that many of them went missing. Most didn’t return, but those who did? They didn’t come back the same. They became something cold and starved, moving only in dark spaces. Holland had called them Craven, what I believed the poor seamstress Andreia had been turned into.

Something clicked into place as I watched them lift their veils, only enough to drink from crystal chalices. Could the Revenants have been Chosen at one time also?

I looked ahead, swallowing. The hall curved and turned as if it had been built while following a serpent. Would the Chosen help me? Could they be of any help? Probably not. The best thing for me to do would be to get past this chamber without being seen. But…

But these were Chosen.

Innocent mortals who were likely being abused. Or worse. And, gods, I thought about Andreia again. There was worse, and I could walk right—

A scream made my heart leap in my chest. My head cut to the chamber. A Chosen stood at the opening, gloved hands lifted to their veiled head.

“It’s okay.” I stepped forward. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

More screams tore through the air as another Chosen spotted me. They rushed forward, grasping the one who stood near the opening and hauling them back from me. Not that I blamed them.

I looked quite…murderous, covered in blood and carrying a sword.

A door within the chamber swung open, and a silver-haired man shuffled out, clothed in gold robes. “What in all that is holy is going—?” Gray brows shot up, causing deeper creases in his skin as he got an eyeful of me. “My gods,” he uttered.

“I’m not a threat,” I began. “I’m—”

“Guards!” the man shouted, his robes swishing as he twisted around to the door he’d come out of. “Guards!”

“Damn it,” I gasped.

Left with no choice, I took off running as fast as I could. My heart pounded in rhythm with my steps. I flew down the hall and then moved into another, the chambers on either side a blur. It was only then when it occurred to me that the guards weren’t the only thing I needed to be worried about. The vicious, flesh-eating dakkais were pets in Dalos. Little too late to worry about that now.

Shouts erupted from behind me, but I kept running, darting into another hall, a different chamber—

I came to a complete stop. I couldn’t process what I was seeing for a moment, even though I understood the soft, breathy moans and flashes of bare skin. It was all just so very unexpected.

People in all stages of undress were sprawled across the floor in groups of two, three…and, wow. My gaze danced over a woman riding a man, her heavy breasts swaying while another took her from behind, her hands and mouth full. She smiled around one cock as the man groaned…

Goodness, that took talent.

A man had another bent over the arm of a couch, his hips plunging while the other buried his head between a half-dressed woman’s thighs. She had her mouth on another woman who reclined, legs spread. Some were on gold and sapphire silk-draped mattresses. Others on couches. Some merely watched the festivities, their hands pumping cocks or fingers delving deeply inside themselves.

Blinking, I shook my head. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen something like this. After all, there were similar spaces back home at The Luxe, but these weren’t mortals. Instead, the lust-laden eyes here glowed with eather. This was a chamber full of gods fucking. Fucking gods.

Slowly, I backed out and returned to the hall.

Without a single person seeming to notice me, I was running once more. Damn it. I didn’t know where to go, and the place was a maze of halls and chambers. I skidded into yet another passageway, my breath coming out in shallow, short pants.

The area I’d entered was darker, with no windows to let any natural light in, and there was a strange smell in the air.

Metallic.

Bloody.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Unease snaked its way through me as I crept forward. Tapestries with gold brocade hung from walls and gently rippled, disturbed by some sort of breeze. I glanced up, spotting the spinning blades of fans along the ceiling.

I swallowed, pushing forward. Several chambers were empty, only full of shadows, but they… I squinted. They appeared damp. Wet. The rich scent of iron permeated the air.

There were sounds here, too, coming from candlelit spaces with shrouded archways.

 Hungry, greedy noises.

I tightened my grip on the sword as I passed a marble statue of a man holding a shield in one hand, and a small child against his chest with the other.

Both were missing their heads.

Keep going, I told myself. Just keep going. There had to be a stairwell somewhere.

A shout exploded from within a shrouded chamber, one filled with pain and terror, not pleasure.

I stopped, turning to my right. A cry sounded, weaker and shorter. Keep going. My chest clenched as I glanced back to where I’d come from. I had no idea where the guards were, but the sounds, the greedy slurping…

Damn it.

Some days, I hated myself. Prowling toward the gauzy black curtain, this was one of them.

Shoving the barrier aside, I scanned the dimly lit space. There were no couches or chairs in here, just mantels full of lit, half-melted candles and a mattress on the floor—one with rust-hued stains.

And it was not bare.

A dark-haired woman was on top of a man, her face buried in his throat. She wore a shapeless white gown or robe, but I could still see her body writhing beneath the cloth. Under her, the man was half-dressed, his skin nearly as white as his shredded robes. His frantic, darting gaze collided with mine.

His lips peeled back over tightly clenched teeth and then moved, forming one word I didn’t hear but felt to my very bones.

Help.

A different kind of instinct took hold as I rushed forward. The woman moaned deeply as the man beneath her jerked, his eyes squeezing shut so tightly the skin puckered at the corners. The woman was so caught up in what I figured was feeding that she was utterly unaware of me.

Reaching the side of the mattress, I grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked with all my strength.

I caught a glimpse of the jagged puncture wounds in the man’s neck as I shoved the woman to the side.

Her head snapped in my direction, lips peeling back to reveal two bloody canines smaller than what I saw on the gods and Primals, but still sharp. She growled at me, and it once more reminded me of Andreia. This woman didn’t have two fangs on the bottom row of her teeth, though, nor did she look…well, as dead as Andreia had.

My gaze flew to hers. Good gods, her eyes were pitch-black, so dark I couldn’t see her pupils.

They weren’t like a god’s or a mortal’s.

She moved quickly, getting into a crouched position, her knees jutting out from the sides of her gown.

I had a sick feeling that both of them were Chosen, but she was what Gemma had spoken of: the Chosen who went missing and returned hungry.

Because this bitch looked like she was starving.

Her head tilted to the side as she sniffed the air. “You smell…”

I frowned at the raspy, throaty voice.

“You smell of Revenant and god,” she purred, moving fluidly, much like a pit viper. She moaned, and thick lashes fanned her cheeks. “And something else. Stronger.”

“Thanks?” I murmured, keeping an eye on her as I moved closer to the man. He wasn’t moving. “I think.”

A soft hissing sound came from her before she pressed her hands to the waist of her gown. “I’m so hungry.”

“Uh-huh.” Keeping the sword level, I bent and touched the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. I found one. It was weak but there.

The woman angled her body toward me as she ran her palms up her chest. “You smell…”

“You already said that.”

“Like life,” she whispered, her lashes lifting. Pitch-black eyes faintly lit from within fixed on me.

“What the—?”

The woman leapt at me, full-on jumped like a large feline.

She was fast—faster than I expected—and crashed into me. The impact knocked the sword from my grasp. I stumbled back, tripping over the man’s legs. I went down, my hands on the woman’s shoulders. Hitting the stone floor was brutal, but the snapping fangs inches from my face were far more violent.

“Fuck,” I gasped as I held her back, my arms trembling as she grasped my wrist.

“Let me have some,” she cooed, her knees pressing into my hips. “Just a little bit. A taste. That’s all. Please.” She moaned, her hips rolling and grinding. “Please.”

“What in the fuck?” I exclaimed. She was almost as strong as a god. “Get off me.”

“I need it. I need more,” she whined, her voice thickening. “I need—”

Pushing with everything in me, I thrust her to the side. I didn’t stay on my back, realizing how damn fast she was. I popped to my feet and looked for the sword.

She flew at me, her movements frenzied and untrained, all arms and fangs. Was she biting the air? I shoved her back. If she were Chosen, I didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe whatever had been done could be undone. I didn’t know. “You need to calm down.”

Not doing that at all, she launched herself at me once more. I dipped under her arms, coming up behind her. Twisting at the waist, I kicked out, planting my foot in her back. She careened forward, dropping to her knees. I turned, spotting the shadowstone sword lying on the mattress. Grabbing it, I spun. She ran at me at full speed. I stumbled as my arms bent—

The woman jerked, her head and legs falling forward, her back bowing. I looked down to see the sword’s hilt flush with the white robes of the Chosen’s midsection.

I looked up at the same time she did. Her lips parted on a soft exhale. My eyes locked with hers, and time seemed to slow as tiny cracks appeared in her cheeks. They spread much like the fissures in the walls had, traveling across her face and down her throat.

Her weight against the sword disappeared first, like she went hollow. Then her skin flaked off, turning to dust as it hit the air.

My mouth dropped open as she caved into herself, breaking and shattering until the sword I held pierced nothing but robes.

“What the fuck?” I repeated, frozen for a moment before shaking the blade clear of the robes and looking for some sign of the Chosen. A bone. Something.

There was nothing.

I swallowed, taking a step back. I hit the edge of the mattress and turned, looking down at the man. He was paler than before. His eyes were open, but they were glazed over and fixed. Glancing at the pile of empty robes, I knelt, touching his neck.

“Damn it.” My chest squeezed. There was no pulse. I started to pull my hand back when movement caught my attention.

His fingers twitched. Then his arm. A ragged breath left me. I pressed more firmly on his neck, searching for a pulse and still finding none. “Shit.” I looked at his arm. It was still.

Okay. I must have been seeing things.

I looked at all that remained of the woman: nothing but a pile of clothing. She hadn’t been what Aios had once called a demis. That was when a mortal who was not a third son or daughter Ascended.

The heavy fall of footsteps echoed from outside in the hall, snapping my attention to the gauzy curtain. Several shapes rushed by.

One stopped.

A man with long, light-colored hair that fell down his back lifted his chin. He turned to the curtain of the room I was in.

Stepping over the Chosen, I lifted the sword.

“Found her,” came an unfamiliar, gravelly voice.

Damn it.

Damn it.

Another appeared outside, his gold armor dull in the low light. The long-haired man thrust the curtain aside a heartbeat later, striding in.

I shot across the space. The man cocked his head, making no move to protect himself. That was fine. I leveled the edge of the blade to his throat.

“Move,” I ordered.

Though his features were lost to the shadows, I could’ve sworn he smirked as he lifted his hands.

“Moving,” he replied. “Your Highness.”

Hearing the title was jarring. Somehow, amid all of this, I’d forgotten that a Consort held a status similar to a Primal.

“Back,” I added, not having the time to wonder if this was a god or a Revenant. “Move back.”

He did just that, exiting the chamber and entering the hall. “How far would you like me to move?”

Keeping the blade at his throat, I darted behind him. The man was freaking tall, several inches taller than me, but I grabbed hold of his arm as I forced him toward the guard.

“I want you two to listen closely because I won’t repeat myself,” I said, pressing the tip of the blade against his throat. “If either of you makes even one move I don’t like, I will cut off his head. And I’m fast. You won’t be able to stop me.”

“How fast are you?” he asked, far too casually for someone who had a blade to his throat. “I’m thinking you have to be pretty fast to have made it this far.”

My heart lurched and sped up. His skin? It was warm, almost feverish, and it felt either scarred or…ridged. The man turned his head to the side.

Several blond waves fell back, revealing his cheek. “But how strong are you?” he continued, and I looked up. “Because you’re going to have to be really strong, Your Highness.”

My stomach tumbled as I saw the ridges along his jaw and cheek. They formed a pattern of scales. Then I saw one ruby-red eye.

A draken.

I was holding a blade to a draken’s throat.

Two thoughts occurred simultaneously: Had this draken wanted to bond with Kolis? And could a shadowstone blade kill a draken? I was about to find out, so I really hoped this draken was happy to serve Kolis and not doing so because he had no choice.

“Don’t,” the guard warned.

I jerked my arm back—

The draken turned, grasping my wrist and twisting. Pain shot up my arm, but I held on to the sword. It was my only weapon. My only—

He increased the pressure on my wrist, digging into the tendons there. I gasped as my hand spasmed open. The sword clanged off the floor as I kicked out, slamming my foot into his chest.

The draken didn’t even budge.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, smirking. “But if it makes you feel good, please, by all means, continue.”

“Fuck you!” I spat, angling my body away. I swung with my other arm, catching him in the chin as a thud came from somewhere behind me. I had no idea what it was, and I didn’t have time to find out.

“Ouch,” he grunted. A deep laugh came from him. The blow likely caused me more pain than it did him. “That was…cute.”

Cute?

Cute?

Fury erupted from deep within me, mingling with the rising panic and stoking the embers. This was my only chance. If I didn’t make it out now, I likely never would, and I had to. I must. The back of my skull tingled as the embers of Primal essence hummed.

They vibrated deep in my chest, reminding me that the sword hadn’t been my only weapon. I had them.

And they were mine.

From deep within me, an ancient power stirred and stretched. Bright and hot, the eather hit my veins, filling me.

The draken’s head tilted, his nostrils flaring. Shock widened his eyes as his grip on my wrist loosened.

Eather surged, and I didn’t attempt to pull it back. I latched on to the power—my power. I summoned it, thrusting out both arms. Silvery sparks erupted from my fingers, and I slammed my hands into the draken’s chest.

His feet left the floor, and he flew backward, hitting the wall across the hall with enough force to crack the stone. Then he fell onto his side, limp.

A strangled laugh left me. Holy shit, I’d just knocked out a draken. There was no time to be awed by my awesome strength, though. I spun toward the brown-haired guard.

Eather pulsed behind his pupils. “Shit.”

I threw my hand out. Power erupted from my palm, and something happened. The crackling and spitting Primal essence took shape in my hand, stretching and lengthening, forming a thunderbolt.

My eyes widened.

“Good Fates,” rasped the guard, stumbling back.

A low rumbling growl came, jerking my head to the side. The draken pushed off the floor, his skin thickening into scales and darkening to a crimson shade. His jaw opened, and his ruby eyes flashed a bright, shiny sapphire as smoke spilled from his nostrils.

I reacted out of an old instinct, one born of the Primal power I wielded. My arm cocked back as I prepared to throw the thunderbolt—

What sounded like the moan of the wind echoed from within the chamber I’d come out of. A low, howling noise that rose into a shrill cry, causing my skin to pimple. I looked over my shoulder.

Something bolted out through the gauzy shroud, crashing into me. Concentration broken, the thunderbolt collapsed into a shower of harmless sparks as I fell backward.

Grasping it by the shoulders, I hit the floor hard. Air punched from my lungs as the thing went wild, shrieking and snapping. But it wasn’t a thing.

Even in my confusion, I knew it was the man who had been dead only moments before.

And he still looked dead.

His skin had taken on a ghastly gray pallor, and dark shadows had blossomed beneath his eyes—eyes that now burned coal-red. Pale, grayish-blue lips peeled back, revealing four long canines that hadn’t been there before, two on the upper row and two on the bottom.

Just like the fangs that had appeared on the seamstress, Andreia.

“What the fuck?” I gasped, shoving him off.

I scrambled away, my heart thumping as he landed on his side. His body twitched, arms jerking uncontrollably, and head whipping toward me. The sound he made then was like the shrieks of a hundred souls sentenced to the Abyss, sending a chill down my spine. He launched to his feet, coming right for me like no one else was around.

I stumbled to my feet, bracing myself—

A shadowstone sword swept forward, catching him at the neck. His scream ended abruptly as the sword cleaved through, severing the head.

Stunned, I watched the body crumble, unable to process how the Chosen had gone from what I’d seen in the chamber to this.

“Fucking Craven,” the guard muttered, and my gaze snapped to him. A lock of brown hair fell over his forehead as he nudged the head with his foot. “Abominations.”

I’d been right.

What Andreia—what this Chosen—had become was a Craven. And the woman who’d bitten him had been something else.

“Your Highness,” came a raspy whisper from behind me.

My shoulders tensed. How had I forgotten about the draken? My escape plan? The Craven and whatever the woman was fell to the wayside. I searched for the embers and found them. They throbbed to life, a little weaker than before but still there. I stepped forward and twisted, calling the essence. Heat hit my veins as my eyes locked with ones that flickered between crimson and sapphire—

A hand landed on the nape of my neck, warm fingers digging into the side of my throat. I tried to lift my arms and step away from the sudden pressure, but my muscles went rigid, and a dizzying whirlpool of darkness rose, pulling me into the vast nothingness without mercy.

I dreamt of my lake and the cool, dark waters gliding over my skin as I swam under the bright stars.

Dreaming of it didn’t surprise me. This place was a source of good memories, and I was relieved that my mind had decided to bring me here instead of someplace terrible, but I couldn’t exactly remember what had happened before this. I had been somewhere in Cor Palace, hadn’t I? I wasn’t sure. Everything existed just out of my reach, clouded in mist. And besides, this…

I knew nothing bad could reach, scare, or disturb me here. Because I wasn’t alone.

A wolf sat on the bank of my lake, one more silver than white. He watched.

And I knew I was safe.