Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
MORGANA
I ’d killed only a handful of men. Watched even more die. But here was something gut-wrenching about the way those shadowy figures tore apart that man as if he were bones to a dog.
I slowly stood when his howling screams silenced and the darkness settled around the two figures. The gloved man was unfazed, but the victim collapsed out of the chair and onto the ground. Flaps of skin were flayed from his face, and his eyes— gods. His eyes were hollowed out.
There were no gods here.
I let out the smallest gasp and, on instinct, ran. I knew I needed to keep on, to run until I breached the latch onto the roof, but as I reached the stairs, I could feel that diabolical stare burning into my back. I turned my head to catch his haunting gaze. I didn’t wait for him to run, but my moment of pause—my selfish desire to know the man wicked enough to do such a thing—was enough sign that I lacked the discipline to keep on. To outrun him.
He wouldn’t catch me. He couldn’t as I sprinted up the stairs, around the corner, and toward the ladder that led to the rooftop. I could hear his footsteps a beat behind me, each echoing stomp taunting me and daring me to trip.
I’d never scaled a ladder so fast. The latch had been closed though—that was my first mistake. Between panicked breaths, I cursed and tried to coil my slippery fingers around the handle. In my periphery, black, misty vines swirled in the air around me. I looked between my feet and saw the man gazing up at me with a mischievous glint in his eye.
With a smirk, he called, “Need some help?”
I froze, jaw agape. His finger flicked, and the shadowed magic slipped between my own and opened the latch. I gasped, nearly falling back as I tore my skin from the cold embrace. It sliced through my gloved, leather fingertip like a butterknife, but the second the windy air of Rivereast Plains whooshed into the opening, I pulled myself out and bolted for the nearest rooftop. I turned over my shoulder to see if he was behind me, but the hatch fastened shut.
I blinked, slowing my pace until I was skidding to a halt at the ledge. I foolishly waited, but he didn’t break out into the open air like the monster he was.
Breathing out in relief, I shimmied across the glass paneling before leaping across to the nearest building. Eventually, I found myself at the pipe I’d used to evade the prying eyes of the city streets and slid into the alleyway. I cursed and tore the glove from my hand, sucked on my finger, and paced back and forth between the narrow walls as I tried to understand what I’d just seen.
I knew magic of all kinds existed. Those that healed, killed, and everything in between. But that? That was unheard of—only the crown family was said to have such power. No one from the royal family would ever end up on this side of town. They’d send one of their men to do the dirty work, right ?
I cursed audibly and kicked a piece of loose stone with my boot. As I was about to step into the dull moonlight, a wall of darkness lashed at me. I stumbled back and screamed. My hands reached to block it, but that was useless.
The magic simply sliced through my wrists, just as it had my fingers.
I hissed out in pain and held my forearm, rolling onto my side to try and pull myself off the ground.
Tut. Tut. Tut.
I clawed at the dirty rock to try and create space between me and my assailant, but a boot gently pressed into my bleeding wrist like a threat. I cried out and let the weight roll me onto my back. I stared at the shadowed face that had just been torturing the man in the abandoned museum. He let off my forearm, lowering so he was closer to me. His eyes were dark, but beneath the midnight gaze were specks of crimson that all but glowed. His skin was smooth, pale, and his lips widened into the evilest smirk I’d seen in my entire life.
I knew this man. I knew those wretched eyes and cocky smirk. My heart pounded beneath my chest, and I was scrambling for control once more.
“Miss Tillington?” he said, though the name was a tease. “Care to tell me your real name, and why you sought out such a sick bastard once more?”
“Aster? Fuck you!” I hissed.
“Fine then. Little dove it is.”
I bared my teeth, even if I knew he couldn’t see it, and scrambled onto all fours before slowly raising into a half-crouched position. He lifted his head to keep my eye contact, that smirk never faltering. He was handsome, in a twisted way. “You’re diabolical,” I hissed. “I saw what you did!”
“And what is it you think I did?” he challenged, rising at the same pace as me. He held out his hands in some sort of pathetic act of surrender. No, I knew men like him. Even if he let me go, he’d never let me live this down. Not without a price. He’d already saved me once too.
I was in his debt.
“I don’t have to play your little game. Just let me go and we can both pretend like this never happened.”
His head cocked, and though I didn’t know him—who he really was—the look he gave me was like he knew all my tells. That, even if it was a damn good lie, the way my eye twitched and skin reddened gave me away.
I’d never sleep with the vision of that man burned into my brain. How could I be trusted to keep quiet after seeing such twisted, evil desire unleash upon him? He inched closer, silently egging me to continue.
Fine. He wanted to play a game. I’d bite. I struck the flat side of my hand into the notch of his throat before twisting away and lunging for the exit. He choked on the air, but it didn’t do much to subdue him. At first, I thought it was his hands grabbing hold of me, but when I was flung backward like I had run into an elastic rope, I saw nothing but shadows. I collided with his chest, his arms pressing into the soft flesh of biceps and holding me there. One of his hands reached for my face and snatched the mask tied around my face, tearing it free with the simplest tug.
“I’d be careful, little dove,” he said and dragged a finger down toward the gash in my arm. “It’s impossible to fly without your wings.”
“Let me go,” I pleaded, trying to thrash out of his hold. He chuckled dryly and grabbed a fistful of my hair to pull my head back and look up at him. Tears welled, and I embraced the dark crimson eyes that were soaking up every inch of my face. His gloved hand traced the skin of my neck, right over the healing cut as if he were recalling our last night together.
He knew my face—had seen it twice now. He’ll never let me live this down. Again, again, again—I reminded myself of this fact until it was a screeching, harrowing poem in my head.
He was the perfect hunter—designed to kill his prey at night. Dark, curly tousles of hair fell over his face as he whispered to me.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He let go of my hair and shoved me forward. “Let’s chalk it up to me feeling sourly about our falling out at the banquet. A lover’s quarrel is a nasty thing, isn’t it?” When I turned to face him, his eyes dragged down my body before licking back toward my face. I shuddered. “Nasty until they amount to a resolution, if you will.”
The dark wall still entrapped me. He adjusted the one glove he still wore, tugging at each finger so they were taut. Up close, raven ink colored his veins. The back of his exposed hand was poisoned with the darkness he was using against me, a testament to the dangers that lurked deep beneath his glare.
“I’ll let you go if you do one small thing for me.”
I gulped. I knew it. I fucking knew it.
The shadows acted as if they had a mind of their own, swirling in the air around me in this twisted dance. Its tale was of death—a fate I desperately wanted to avoid. He had to be related to the crown. There was no such power that existed elsewhere, or should ever exist. It was unforgiving and brutal.
But the prince was all but a legend. No one had seen the king’s children—not even at birth. They were myths. A last lie to keep the crown strong for one more generation.
“You’re going to help me with that miscreant’s death. He was scum, but he was scum with family. Powerful family, but I am certain you know that if you sought him out again?”
“What?” I breathed. Rapidly, I started to shake my head. Again, he chortled and stopped in front of me. Delicately, he grabbed hold of my chin and forced it still. I could look nowhere else besides his eyes.
“Why would I help you? I’d rather die—you’re a murderer. ”
“Those blades at your hip tell me you’ve tasted blood a time or two before.”
I’d never glared at someone with so much hatred. If it weren’t for this twisted magic, I would have used my daggers to slice clean through his throat. “Why can’t you do it yourself?”
His gaze glimmered. “Oh, I could. I could also take that sight of yours so nobody believed you when you tried to explain what you saw. Is that what you’d rather I do?”
As if the threat was enough, the magic bled from his fingertips and burned into my skin. Every bone in my body trembled, and although I tried my best to stop, my bottom lip quivered. I tried to speak, but my voice was no louder than a croak.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would be enough to stop the spidery vines from creeping past my eyelids, but of course it wasn’t. Within seconds, I felt fire behind the pitch blackness that I wished protected me. I screamed, jolting from his hold and falling onto my back. I clasped my hands over my eyes to rub away the pain.
“That was just a taste, little dove. Shall I show you more?”
“ Fuck you!” I cried and peered up at him. My vision was blurred, but I knew what he’d done was just the start. I could only hope it wasn’t permanent.
“That’s not a yes,” he said, cooing down at me. The shadows crept closer, and I crawled backward to try and create space. “Just say yes. All of this ends.”
I backed into the cold wall that prevented me from escaping, and when it lunged down at me like a veiled wave, I screamed. “ Fine !”
It all vanished.
The dark magic, the cold barrier that prevented me from my escape. I dropped my hands from my face and slowly looked back up at him, watching as he tugged the other glove onto his hand. Finger by finger, he tightened it until it was snug against his skin. He beamed down at me.
“Lovely. I’m glad we are agreed.”
“What—”
“Go. Before I decide you aren’t worth your sight after all.”
I slid to the side a few paces before stumbling onto my feet. The second my body slipped into the pale moonlight, I turned to run. He didn’t chase me. I was free to find my way home, blinking through the blurred vision of my ruined eyesight.
His voice, however, was a haunting omen. “I’ll send word for you, little dove. You still have your wings—for now.”
I didn’t know who he was or how he’d find me, but I knew our deal would not be forgotten. This was not the last time I would see the shrouded murderer of Rivereast Plains.