27. My Hands Are Tied #2
I wonder if her parents did name her Selene for the moon, because she looks like an ancient goddess carved from marble.
Flawless skin that glows like opals. Hair that falls loose to her waist in a slight wave, the blonde silvered in the magic hovering light.
Her eyes are the blue-green of the Mediterranean Ocean, lips pink as if she’s stained them, along with delicately arched eyebrows above long, dark lashes, set in a heart-shaped face.
She’s wearing a floor-length gown in rose pink that clings to her curves and floats around her legs, incongruous in this setting. She’s a princess in a dungeon. But she’s no fairy tale.
The Warlock turned Necromancer is the opposite. Skin so dark it’s hard to see him, even with the glowing ball of magic drifting between us. The whites of his eyes and the flash of teeth almost look as if they’re floating in the darkness.
More lights appear, moving on a phantom wind, showing me more of my surroundings and my kidnappers.
He’s massive, towering over the rogue Vampire who is his partner, and it’s all muscle.
His eyes are pools of black in a harsh face surrounded by dreadlocks.
He’s wearing a sleeveless vest that shows a great deal of sculpted muscled chest and arms, with leather pants.
As he leans closer, I see scars on his hands, across his cheeks, and one as thick as a rope winding from his chest up his neck.
I could swear they’re healed claw marks.
In a flash of insight, I know He’s having trouble controlling his pet Daemon. The more he raises it, the harder it becomes to control. It looks as if it’s already attempted to kill him. I store the info away to use if I have the opportunity.
Except…‘Nice scars,’ I say conversationally, my smile viciously taunting. ‘Made by a friend of yours?’
His hand flies at me, a blur of motion. Before it can connect with my cheek, a moon-white hand grips his wrist. Selene stands casually beside him, bending it backwards before she lets go.
‘Not yet,’ she says with a coolness that’s somehow more unsettling than the almost slap. ‘Cut the ties on her ankles. I need her on her feet.’
The Necromancer bends down and pulls a knife from a sheath on his thigh.
Tattoos lighter than his skin are inked from wrist to shoulder, moving down across his chest. They’re strange patterns of symbols and what I think are letters, although I couldn’t begin to guess what language they’re in.
He flips the blade over and smoothly separates the flexi-cuffs from my ankles.
The relief is overwhelming, but I’m not sure if I can stand yet. I’m not stupid enough to think I can run from a Death Magic dealer who controls a Daemon from the bowels of hell, and an ancient Vampire who sets up elaborate murders for revenge. But I feel a spark of hope ignite.
He hauls me to my feet. Unable to brace my body with my hands, still tightly cuffed in front of me, I use the wall to hold myself up. I also can’t reach my gun. But they don’t know I have it, which I choose to see as an advantage.
Silence is my only weapon, and I refuse to give them anything. I’m not afraid. I’m a detective who leads the Paranormal Police Squad. A Witch has already tried to murder me, and she’s dead. As the Warlock moves away, I tip my head back against the wall, smiling as if I know something they don’t.
Which I do. Micah will find me. I may be bait, but he can take Selene. He Turned her.
Selene sweeps her cold gaze over me, where I lean precariously against cold brick.
I’m not usually vain, but she’s a goddamn princess who rejected the man who didn’t want me when I threw myself at him- literally- and I’ve looked better.
My pants are no longer cream, and dirt is smeared across my t-shirt.
I don’t need a mirror to know I probably have dirt on my face, my hair is a tangle around my face, and there are purple smudges beneath my eyes.
I’m also sure I have bruises in several places.
‘So what’s the plan, Selene?’ I full-on smirk at the stunning Vampire.
‘You’re awfully cocky for a girl who’s about to die,’ the Necromancer tells me with a flash of teeth. He flexes, and even without Dark Magic, he could easily break me in two.
‘That’s because it’s not going to happen,’ I say with far more confidence than I feel. I cross one ankle over the other and stare at them.
‘Micah always did like strong, willful females.’ It’s not a compliment. Jealousy hangs heavy in her words. She didn’t want him, but apparently, no one else can have him either. I almost roll my eyes at the cliche of it all.
‘I didn’t catch your name,’ I say to the Warlock. His legs are spread, arms crossed over his broadly muscled chest, in that pose men take when they’re trying to show how tough they are. Honestly, he doesn’t need to. He could be an MMA fighter.
‘Because you have balls, it’s Nahaz.’ His amused smile is unnerving. They have the upper hand, and no amount of bravado on my part will change that.
‘Wanna tell me the point of all this?’ My legs are steadier now, and push away from the wall. I wish I could cross my arms. Or even better, reach for my gun.
‘Didn’t you figure it out?’ Selene looks bored and annoyed. A bad combination in a sociopathic narcissist.
‘The part where you want revenge on Micah for some slight centuries ago.’ I shrug at how ridiculous it is, keeping my eyes locked on hers. ‘Why Evan? Why Jason? Were they random choices?’
Even if I’m going to die, the detective in me needs to tie up loose ends.
‘The Werewolf was easy to Compel.’ Now it’s Selene’s turn to shrug. I’m sure humans are interchangeable to her. ‘He knew Jason, and I wanted the Cartel to blame your boyfriend. Stirring up trouble between rival Packs is just a bonus.’
Confirmation that it was a misdirect doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I thought it would. I don’t mention Lila. I can easily guess why she was murdered. This is all about Micah. Everything else is a means to an end.
‘What do you get out of this?’ I switch my gaze to Nahaz, who’s flipping his blade over and over idly, as if unaware he’s doing it.
‘Power,’ he says, and the knife flies at me, embedding in the brick just beside my ear, no small feat. I twist toward it, my hands half-raised, but Selene leans over and plucks it out before I can. Her movements are slow, deliberate, letting me know she doesn’t need to use her Vampire speed.
I want to make a snarky comment about men and power, but the fear I’ve been forcing to the depths of my soul is leaking into my blood and bones.
‘Raise Ashrael,’ Selene tells Nahaz. ‘It’s time.’
The Warlock moves to the center of the room, several of his magic lights floating along with him.
He pulls a pouch from his pocket and opens it, tipping what looks like dust or ash into his hand.
Sprinkling it onto the floor around him, every place it falls glows red.
Once he’s finished, he’s safely inside a pentagram that flares brightly around him.
Drawing symbols in the air, words I think must be an incantation pour rapidly from his mouth.
This is like every bad horror holo ever.
Despite the cliches, fear grips me. I’ve seen what this monster can do to a Werewolf and a Vampire, and I do not want its demonic claws ripping through my skin.
Instinctively, I push back against the wall as if I can force my body through it.
‘Micah should be here soon,’ Selene says, her eyes lit in a way I would definitely call unhinged.