32. Chace #2
Aldine pocketed his hands in the open ends of his sleeves and took several paces back, drawing both himself and the bastard deeper into the cell and creating more space near the open door. “Something tells me you know exactly why I’m here.”
On numb feet that no longer registered the cold floor, I slipped into the darkened hall beyond. My shaky movements managed to remain soundless as I walked backward, holding my focus on the confrontation taking place.
I could possibly glean some insight into Aldine’s plan to get us both out of the situation safely and intact if I knew him better.
Unfortunately, I did not know Aldine. I knew only the unskilled version of the reaper Ubel had shared with me.
That bumbling, unqualified reaper did not stand before me now.
Aldine appeared every bit the strong-willed manipulator and fighter of the mind.
And his familiarity to my captor might be the reason he was chosen for the Citadel of Veritas reaping task.
“In fact,” Aldine said. “I have it on good authority that my team is not the first to visit you, be it in your basement or elsewhere.”
“Yes,” the jailer drawled. “Not the first. And likely not the last. You would think the powers that be would have learned by now to leave things well enough alone. Although, we do appreciate the sacrifices. We have put all of them to good use.”
I’d only ever seen my captor and his clearly simple-minded minion. Who constituted the rest of “we?”
Aldine didn’t ask the question.
Standing here watching the exchange proved too painful. I needed to get out—needed to rest. But not without Aldine. I had to somehow help extract him from the situation. Maybe find a way to put the bastard down or entice him to leave.
Only, I noted nothing available that I’d consider useful. No weapons. No loose items one could toss to a far corner of the room in an attempt to draw the male away. Maybe I could lift the wall torches from their holders, do something with them.
Should I hit him over the head or set him on fire?
A solid whack to the head seemed sufficient enough…hopefully.
I reached for a torch. Began to lift.
“Never going to happen,” Aldine said, louder than necessary.
I paused and tightened my focus on him. Had he raised his voice because he saw the torch move and guessed what I was up to?
“If my charge has managed to free himself,” Aldine continued, and the bastard’s back stiffened. “He will go to those powers and make sure they come down on you with everything they have. There will be no more sacrifices. Only consequences…for you.”
Unsure of my next move, my hand hovered in the air beside the torch.
“Is that so?” the jailer taunted.
Aldine cleared his throat. “He will. He will go immediately, without hesitation.”
Receiving Aldine’s message loud and clear, I pulled my hand away from the torch. He wanted me to leave the dungeon and do so now. But how could I leave him, knowing the horrors the bastard in his presence could create?
The jailer spun and took in the entirety of the visible space. “Where is he?”
“I have no idea,” Aldine replied. “That is what I have been telling you. Asking of you.”
In a swift move that my tired eyes struggled to follow, the jailer grabbed Aldine in a stranglehold and pressed a dagger to his throat.
“I’m no fool, Liam. You were passing him a message.” His gaze darted left, then right. “Where is he hiding?”
At the tip of the blade, a bead of blood bloomed on Aldine’s skin.
“Not here.” Aldine grabbed the blade, the jailer’s hand upon the handle.
A thin line of blood trickled down Aldine’s wrist.
The dagger jerked back and forth in a battle of strength. Slowly, the blade pulled away from Aldine’s throat. An impressive show of strength on his part.
“I am sorry this happened to you because of me. It should have been me. But you will not win this time,” Aldine said between gritted teeth.
“Who said anything about winning?” The bastard pressed his weight onto the top of the hilt. “This is not a game or a competition. And I am not the one for whom the sacrifices are made.”
The bastard yanked the blade forward, the angle shifting. Aldine smiled, an expression of resignation and acceptance all at once.
Pain sparked in my chest like the gods poked me with a pitchfork. Several times.
“I shall not be used in any form to capture the lad.” With one sharp, swift tug, Aldine pulled the blade into the side of his own rib cage, burying it deep in his flesh and bones.
My eyes popped wide as my hand flew over my mouth, holding back the holler trapped in my throat. Everything inside of my head raged, roared, as my blood boiled. My back pressed against the wall, I slid to my butt and stared. Stared at the impossible.
This didn’t happen. This couldn’t have happened. Aldine did not just give his life for me.
The jailer released his hold and stared at Aldine intensely.
My mentor gasped and crumpled to the ground.
Why? Why would he do such a thing?
I shook my head, my jaw so rigid I thought it might crack.
“You surprise me, Liam. I didn’t think you had it in you.” The bastard kicked Aldine in the side, rolling him onto his back.
Aldine gasped and gasped and then fell silent.
From somewhere down the long, dark tunnel on my left, footfalls rushed toward us.
My captor’s underling appeared a moment later, wiping at his sweaty brow and huffing for breath. Unlike Aldine or the bastard, who exuded a green or muddy haze about their bodies, the underling emitted a colored aura akin to the child—pinkish, but dingier than that of the young girl’s.
The bastard held his focus upon the cell floor and Aldine’s bloody and unmoving body.
He jabbed a firm hand into the air. “Put our men on alert and find the prisoner.”