Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
A fter removing the claw-ripped shirt, I discovered Anand hadn’t been attempting to keep me from panicking by minimizing the severity of the cut. It really wasn’t that bad. Once I applied pressure to stop the bleeding and cleaned it off, there was just a red line on my stomach. If Anand hadn’t intervened, it could have been so much worse. I knew that. Thoughts of the danger were constant as I navigated through the house to the main library and the magic room, where I could review the spells. The only way to chase the thoughts away was to be proactive. I had to do something.
Despite my attempts to not think about the shades, I fixated on their enigmatic pull to me and what had them swarming around me, maintaining a form that they typically weren’t able to maintain.
My belief that there was nothing magical about me was renewed by the ache from my injury. If magic existed in me, it would ease my pain, surely. But there was no use applying logic to an illogical world.
The shades were drawn to me for my lack of magic in the same way the magic room in the library repelled me. I felt the room’s rejection as soon as I neared it. It was a nudge, shooing me away. For a moment, I considered taking the hint. I could stay in the main library and appreciate the many first editions, take in the beauty of the leatherbound books and peruse the vast selection, inhale the scent of vellum and run my fingers over the gilded emboss on some of the books I’d passed. But that wasn’t going to get me out of the underworld.
Determined to be allowed entry, I pushed against the repelling magic until my hand reached the door handle. The handle turned, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Please,” I whispered to the door. That’s about right. I’m pleading with a room to grant me entrance. Not weird at all.
“I just want to go home,” I pled, my voice low, aware of the dark-skinned man with low-cut hair and round-rim glasses that he moved to the tip of his nose in order to scrutinize me. His attire—crisp white shirt, blue herringbone vest with matching slacks—made me feel underdressed in my t-shirt and leggings. There was judgment in his look, which I ignored, going back to trying to get into the room, shoving my hip against the door to barge my way in. The room remained resolute in its denial.
When I added more force, it responded by tossing me back a few more feet. Once I regained my footing, I approached the door again and pressed my forehead against the cool wood. “I just want to look at your books. I will treat each book with the utmost respect, I promise.”
A pledge that didn’t cause it to waver.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You know me. Let me in the damn room,” I scolded through clenched teeth.
This was a new low. Fighting with a sentient room for entrance. The door remained closed. Removing the anger from my voice, I tried requesting again. It denied my request.
Closing my eyes, I kept my forehead pressed against the door. Maybe the room would have mercy or open just to have me fall flat on my face. I didn’t care what manner the room let me in, just that it would.
Startled by the hand brushing past me and reaching for the handle, I was face to face with Dominic. As soon as we were in the room, he turned me toward him.
“Anand told me about your injury. I’d like to see it.”
I nodded. Taking the same kneeling position Anand had, he lifted my shirt.
“It’s not really an injury. Just a scrape,” I said.
Scrape minimized it, but injury seemed to misrepresent it as well. The warmth of his deeply exhaled breaths breezed across my stomach. His fingers kneaded the skin of my back as he held me in place. If I shifted forward just an inch or so, his lips would be pressed against me. I pushed those thoughts away. Being distracted from my objective wasn’t an option. Dominic blinked. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who’d let my thoughts go to naughtier places, although it was obvious our denial was for different reasons. It was in the tension of his fingers as they held me, the set of his jaw, and the deep contemplation in his eyes. It was obvious that what he’d discovered about me last night was with him.
His fingers moved across my stomach, leaving a menthol coolness in its wake. The scent of lavender permeated the room, and I eased into the peace that it offered. Dominic stood, taking with him the warmth of his body, which reminded me of the room’s cool disapproval of my presence.
“Can you tell me which shade did this to you?” he asked, his deep eyes searching mine.
“No.” It was the truth, but if I could have given him a better description, I wouldn’t have. The thirst for violence and revenge laced his question. I knew nothing of the shades or whether they were like me, victims of circumstance and magic. I wouldn’t sentence them to further violence. Anand’s punishment was enough. I’d never forget their screams.
“I’ve heard Anand’s version of what occurred. I’d like to hear yours.”
I told him, taking out a lot of the commentary, especially the familiarity of the touch exchanged between Anand and Helena. I paid close attention to Dominic’s reaction when I told him of Helena’s comment about Areleus’s intolerance for abnormalities, an opinion shared by the supernaturals in my world. Dominic’s expression remained indecipherable. His eyes were intense with thought.
“They were able to maintain their solid forms around you?”
I nodded. “They were shadows until they were close. There were a lot of them. What are the shades?”
“The truly cursed. They’re Sorcees. Their own race, best described as sorcerer-demon hybrids. It’s much darker magic, stronger than anything witches possess. They were never given Strata designation because their magic fell into its own category. Like ours. They’ve existed longer than I have, forced to live in this underworld for their misdeeds in your world. They could take on less offensive forms than the ones you saw, allowing them to navigate through your world quite effectively. You saw them in their true form. They are agents of strife and cruelty.”
Well, that decreased my desire to protect them, and the guilt I felt about Anand’s response.
“Their loyalty lay with their kind only. They directed their cruelty, violence, and magic to everyone alike. My grandfather discovered a way to capture them and imprison them here in the underworld, where their lack of form gives them no power. Death would have been preferable, but that had proven very difficult. This was the quickest way to eliminate them. And with their history of hurting supernaturals, they quickly relinquished some of their authority to us because of that.”
“That’s why you were given the role of policing them,” I surmised.
He nodded. “It was a dark archaic spell.” From the rigidity of his voice, I knew he was holding something back.
My speculations ran rampant as I tried to piece together everything that had taken place over the past few weeks. “There’s more to why you eliminated the Dark Casters, isn’t there?” I asked.
Dominic took a long time to answer, perhaps deciding whether to give me the varnished version. I grappled with which version I wanted, as well.
“Dark Casters are the only ones who would be able to release the shades, and they made it their objective to do so. They are menace by nature. No peace or rules work for them. When that happens, clearing the slate is best.”
Clearing the slate is best? Banal description for such a violent act. Killing off a whole group of supernaturals. My goal to leave the underworld refueled, I moved to the bookshelf, grabbing books in English and perusing them for spells. As I stacked the books I wanted to review more thoroughly, I could feel the weight of Dominic’s evaluating stare.
Taking a seat across from my stack of books, he reclined in the chair, his fingers laced behind his head as he tracked my every movement as I removed books from shelves. The buzz of energy from the room’s offence at my invasion continued. Something had changed since my last visit. Before, the room offered me wary acceptance, whereas now there was poorly repressed hostility.
“You believe I missed a spell,” he stated.
I understood the humor in his voice and the implication that a novice would be able to discover something he hadn’t. Plopping down in a chair across from him, I set several English spellbooks on the table.
“This has nothing to do with your capabilities. I need to do something. Be proactive. Is it unthinkable that something could have been overlooked?” Opening the books, I reviewed each spell and attempted, with my limited knowledge, to figure out how they could be used to free us.
After reading an unbinding spell, I looked up from it to find that I was still the target of Dominic’s unwavering stare. His tongue swept languidly over his lips, moistening them.
“I’ve done every reversal and unbinding spell I know,” he said. He quickly masked the frustration that eked through. “I have no idea what spell is being used on you to keep us here.”
Dominic looked past me, pulled into his thoughts, his expression whetted by knowledge and experience of a world where I didn’t belong. The rawness of his curiosity and dark magic pulsed frenetically, needing a target, only to be left unsatiated.
“You are quite the enigma,” he mused softly with a touch of acute interest.
In a world of magic, being an enigma can’t be good.
Dominic leaped to his feet and turned to the door. He sensed it moments before I did, and what I felt triggered me into the opposite response. He moved closer to the door as the torrent of strong, ominous magic swept into the room. Nor was he bothered by the turbulent energy that accompanied it. My self-protective response had me on my feet in a rush, shuffling back and pressing my body into the corner, wanting to shrink as far away from it as I could. Putting on a brave face wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t have been able to find one no matter how hard I tried. Dominic appeared to welcome it.
The door opened and a man approached us with an ethereal lithe movement. The room shuddered and then calmed to an eerie stillness, quieting at the presence of the man wearing a charcoal-gray shirt, stone-black slacks, and a scowl that was just as dark. Magic swarmed the room. The ominous change of energy that accompanied his presence was a trumpet announcing him and all the introduction I needed. I was in the company of the Lord of the Underworld.
With great effort, I pushed from the corner where I’d retreated and squared my shoulders to stand taller. Once he was in front of me, I managed to hold his depthless smoke-black eyes despite the panic racing through me. His pronounced features were sharpened to a blade’s edge and accompanied by a wide full mouth and thick, short-cropped dark hair silvered at the temples with such precision and perfection I wondered if it had been professionally done. Perhaps to distinguish himself from his strikingly similar son. Looking between him, Dominic, and Helena, who trailed behind him, the minimal deviations in their appearance made me wonder what their mother’s contribution to the gene pool had been.
Just an inch or two shorter than Dominic, the man had a similar build, equipped not only for immense power but speed, too. A deadly combination that I’d seen in action with Dominic.
What were their rules of etiquette? Were they the same as meeting the royal family? You’re not supposed to touch the queen, but this guy’s not a queen, he’s Lord of the Underworld. A president of sorts. It’s okay to touch the president, but do it unexpectedly, you’d probably be tackled to the ground. Or worse.
How do you greet him? Bow, like I was meeting a dictator? Nope, wasn’t going to do that. Salute? Curtsy? A simple handshake? “What’s up, Lord” definitely wasn’t right. Fist bump definitely not a contender.
The Lord of the Underworld cocked his head and skewered me with a look.
“This is the problem?” he asked, his lips drawing into a tight line. His eyes trailed over me in scrutiny. Great, not a curtsey, bow, or handshake. I was really fighting giving him the finger. I mirrored his critical gaze that regarded me with cynical interest.
“Yes, she is the problem,” Helena chimed in, confident that it would now be handled in the manner she wished.
His eyes flicked to Dominic. “I’m assuming you’ve checked for any new wards, binding spells, cloaks.”
Dominic’s head barely moved into a nod. Heat inched over my face at the reminder of his exploration.
“He did detection spells, checking our domain only. But nothing with her. We have no idea what his little pet is hiding. Or if there are any spells on her,” Helena provided.
The lord took in the information, his attention sliding from Dominic and dropping back to me.
“She has been checked for any magical bindings, wards, and cloaked spells,” Dominic refuted, shooting his sister a sharp look. I wouldn’t meet the gaze she slid in my direction, hoping I wouldn’t reveal my knowledge that Dominic was withholding information. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t disclose about my birthmark being hidden, but they wouldn’t get that information from me.
“The problem needs to be eradicated.” The lord looked at me, clearly identifying me as the problem . Problem, human, or human pet weren’t names I was willing to accept while imprisoned here. Nor would I continue to allow them to speak about me as if I didn’t exist.
“Hi, I’m Luna,” I greeted, extending my hand to him and hoping that giving a face to the problem would make him soften his position. He regarded my hand for a few moments then ignored it, switching his attention back to Dominic and then to Helena, who had moved closer to him, treating Dominic to the same judging gaze given by their father.
“You’ve not found any new wards or bindings. It’s safe to assume she’s the conduit being used to block our travel. Why is she still alive?”
His satiny smooth tone was far too casual while inquiring why a person hadn’t been murdered yet.
“Because Dominic would like to play detective and find out why she was chosen, opposed to fixing the problem,” Helena piped in as her self-appointed role as Underworld Commentator.
The lord’s mouth pinched in disapproval.
“Shall we get rid of the problem rather than finding the source of it, to prevent this from ever happening again?” Dominic challenged.
Without a moment of thought, he responded. “Yes. If it frees me from being trapped like an animal, then yes. Destroy anyone and anything responsible for it.”
“Or I can prevent its reoccurrence. Since this is my responsibility, I chose that option.”
Areleus cleared the distance between him and Dominic with a lightning strike of movement. Mere inches from each other, their looks were an unspoken challenge, one that seemed to perpetually exist when powerful people share each other’s space. It was even more pronounced with them; similar magic and an obvious bitter history that could not be ignored.
“This doesn’t need to be an issue, Father. Have I ever failed?”
The lord just offered a cocked brow in response. There was something hidden behind it.
“Don’t create a fight when one isn’t warranted,” Dominic said.
A half smile curled the corners of the lord’s lip. “Is it truly a fight if one is outmatched with no chance of winning?”
“Perhaps, but that’s not the case with us, is it?” Dominic said.
I wasn’t witnessing a dispute between a father and son, but a tumultuous relationship between a ruler and his successor. My attention bounced between the two, trying to determine how one ascended to their position. Does the lord retire or is he dethroned? I abandoned my thoughts to focus on the delighted smile on Helena’s face. Violence, chaos, and strife was thick in the air, and it appealed to her no matter the source.
“I’m sure we can figure out a way to break the curse and let me live,” I offered in a low, neutral voice, feeling like the slightest misstep would only add fodder to the volatile situation. My diplomacy induced an eyeroll from Helena.
Canting his head, the lord’s brows arched but the ominous air remained. Dark amusement washed over his face, revealing a small smile as ominous as his presence. “What gives you such confidence, Luna?”
“Because we found a solution before when the prisoners were released. I’m confident it can be done again. No one will have to die.” With a confidence level that was well under fifty percent, I gave him all the bravado and assurance of a person fighting for her life because, essentially, I was.
“I assure you, someone will die for this. Perhaps it won’t be you. But someone will pay.” He turned and headed toward the door, offering a temporary stay of execution. Helena’s thrilled expression suggested that it wouldn’t be for long.
Dominic kept a razor focus on his father’s back and didn’t appear surprised when his father stopped with his hand on the door.
“Remove Helena’s restrictions,” he demanded.
“Why don’t you do it, Father? After all, your magic outmatches mine—or so you believe.”
The lord looked over his shoulder, putting Dominic in his assassin’s scope, but Dominic’s comment had bothered him. It was obvious that he couldn’t do it. A man who possessed limitless power wasn’t used to being limited by magic or the threat of violence to get what he wanted.
“Because you restricted her magic, you need to be the one who makes her whole again.” As he opened the door before closing it behind him, he tacked on, “It wasn’t a request, it was an order.”
Once Areleus was gone, Helena, beaming, presented her arms to Dominic.
He approached her, resolution in his expression. Her chin tilted in defiance as he took in her marks before returning his attention to her face.
“I’m not removing your restrictions,” Dominic told her.
Helena’s expression switched to fury. A wintry scowl skewed her features. She tensed, looking as if she was going to crumble under the self-imposed restraint. “It was an order,” she hissed.
“You’re no stranger to disobeying orders. What makes you think that I can’t follow suit?”
She inched closer to him. “This has nothing to do with principle and everything to do with your pride. I refused to be controlled by you and your wounded ego.”
Her selective memory was astonishing. His request for her not to kill me had led to her clawing his face and later putting a jagged wine glass to his throat. If that’s her being controlled, what was she like unfettered?
“I’ve done worse.”
What kind of defense was that? The ‘I’m always terrible, why try to rein it in now?’ strategy.
Despite my best effort, slight admiration seeped through my disdain. This woman had audacity to spare, and I was morbidly fascinated by it.
“You have. Far too many times. I have reached my limits with you.” He’d taken her aggressive response well. Better than anyone else had, and I wasn’t convinced he would have retaliated if she wasn’t so dogmatic about going against his wishes and killing me.
Her docile look of regret and innocence was hard earned. I could see the effort she’d put into it. She thought her magic restriction was because she’d clawed him. “Granted, I have been…shall we say, a little overenthusiastic with my response to you chastising me. It was a regrettable act.”
Great non-apology . And when has clawing a person’s face been considered overenthusiastic? How would she describe murder? A guided escort to the afterlife?
Dominic’s low chuckle held no humor. “I no longer have the patience or the forced diplomacy to make amends and excuses for your behavior. Nor do I wish to continue to clean up your messes. We have been placed at a disadvantage far too often because of it. When your magic is returned, you would have earned the privilege by your deeds. When you are no longer an anchor, your magic will be returned.”
Her winged cheeks flushed, the coloring inching over the bridge of her nose as she took short, sharp inhales through her nose. She sounded like a bull readying to charge. She turned in a huff, her eyes raging with promised retaliation. “You’ve never had me as an enemy, brother. It is not something you want,” she grounded out through clenched teeth.
“You’ve not had me as one, either. I can guarantee, you don’t want me as one.”
I can attest, you all need a family counselor .
As she angrily flounced away, Dominic returned to his chair in silence. I wanted to return to searching the books for possible spells, but I just couldn’t do it. Were we supposed to behave as though that dysfunctional drama didn’t need to be discussed? Did he consider that entire interaction normal?
I made a sincere effort to overlook it as I flipped through several pages and asked the correct questions only for him to inform me that the spell was inappropriate or had been attempted before. By the twentieth spell, my mind was so clouded with the interaction between his family that I had to give up.
“Your father’s interesting,” I cited, leaving an opening for more dialogue.
His fingers clasped behind his head, the languid way he was sitting back in the chair, his slim-fit shirt pulled over his impressive form, and his eyes roving over the titles on the shelves behind me all gave the impression that his father being interesting wasn’t a mutual belief.
“I take it you two don’t get along,” I probed.
Brow furrowed, he pulled his attention from the books to me. “What gives you that impression?”
What gives me that impression! Had we witnessed two different interactions? An incredulous blink was all I could muster. He had to be screwing with me.
“I don’t think our interaction is any different than anyone else.”
“I suppose. My dad has asked me to kill a bug or two, yours a person. Totally similar.”
A smile coursed over his lips. But I persisted. I wouldn’t be sidetracked by a sultry smile and an amused glint in his eyes.
“My brother and I have our share of disagreements, but he doesn’t try to slice and dice my face when it happens, nor does he add me to his list of enemies. I’m positive his enemies list consists of whoever tries to price gouge when game consoles become scarce, and the inventor of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. He really has it out for that person.”
That pulled a chuckle from him, but it was strained.
“You didn’t share the information about my birthmark being cloaked.”
“I have no answers so there isn’t anything to discuss.”
“Finding that it was cloaked isn’t worthy of discussion?”
He shook his head. “It could mean nothing.” That’s a lie. “Or it could mean everything. Does your brother have a birthmark like yours?”
“Not like mine. His looks like a—” I searched for the right way to describe a haphazard starburst enclosed in a circle. It was the best way to describe it, so that’s what I provided to Dominic, who took in the information with a nod. He stood and approached the bookshelf at the opposite end of the room, unceremoniously putting an end to our conversation. But that wouldn’t discourage me from continuing my questioning. I simply grabbed a notebook and pen from the middle of the table. On the paper, I wrote “Dark Caster” and “Imprisoned.” The cause and the effect. And the line down the middle was to divide the spells that had been performed and the potential.
“You did ward and binding spells for the property,” I said, “but Helena pointed out that you never did one on me. Maybe you should.”
“I have,” he admitted, taking a book from the shelf and flipping through it.
“What? When?”
“When I started questioning you about what had occurred before you ended up here.”
I remembered the lull into complacency as the lavender-scented magic spun around me. I’d thought that was a tool to make me more pliant to his questioning. I didn’t like it but at least I knew what had been done to me.
“You were distracted,” he provided, answering my questioning look. No, he was distracting me. The questioning, the touching, the warmth that wrapped around me were spells being performed without my knowledge.
“Do not do spells on me without me giving approval,” I said. “I get a say in it all.”
His attention snapped in my direction. I got a fleeting glimpse of the man who’d taken on a bar full of people, killed assassins with minimal effort, and struck contempt and fear in powerful supernaturals. It was enough to make me cower. But I wouldn’t.
“Do you?”
Squaring my shoulders, I stood from my seat. “Yes, I do.” Not enough conviction in my voice to do anything more than amuse him.
“How do you plan to enforce that?” he asked in a neutral tone.
My heart pounded, my breath became shallow rasps, and the feeling of hopelessness washed over me. I was imprisoned with the very people the powerful feared. How did I enforce my agency with them?
“I guess I can’t,” I admitted, puncturing the quiet. My anger grew with his continued silence. I needed to get away from him. From the magic. From everything that reminded me of the absurdity, cruelty, malice, and dysfunction that existed in this magical world where I didn’t belong.
Leaving the books where they were, I rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind me.