CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
EMMERY
They descended a flight of stairs into a dark entrance way. Reminiscent of the mausoleum, pictures of wings, beasts, demons, and wicked things that made Emmery’s skin crawl, decorated the walls. Ahead loomed two colossal wooden doors etched in the same designs. Their steps quickened toward it.
Emmery had just turned to Dez when she ran smack into something. Dull pain radiated through her face.
She rubbed her aching cheek. “I found the barrier,” she grumbled.
Dez had the audacity to chuckle. “I suppose that’s one way to do it.”
Emmery reopened her wound from Dez’s thorns and coated her palms with blood before she placed her hands against the translucent wall.
Her eyes fell closed as she leaned into it, reached for that barrier, lost in the dark space in her mind.
But as she groped for the magical, buzzing energy, she found nothing.
She searched again. And again. Her eyes flew open and she grit her teeth, her pulse a dull thump in her throat.
Dez stepped up beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“Usually I—” She slapped the wall with her hand. “I can see it in my mind. It appears and I can touch it. But I can’t find it. It’s like it’s not there.” She frowned and tried once more, but only darkness answered her call.
He pursed his lips and tilted his head. As he reached out, and she prepared to roll her eyes, his hand passed straight through like air.
Emmery’s jaw fell slack.
“What were you saying?” he asked. He smiled wide and bright, and like an arrogant ass, wiggled his fingers on the opposite side.
“H-how?” For fear she might have lost her mind, she thumped her fist against it.
Slow as molasses, her stomach sank, harsh questions heavy in her gut. What if he could pass, but she couldn’t? Would he leave her? Would he get her memories? Could she use compulsion? Could she figure out how?
With that same shit-eating grin on his face and blood sliding down his temple, he turned and sauntered backward through.
A cold sweat pricked the back of her neck. She braced her hands on the barrier and shoved, but it didn’t budge. “Dez—”
Like he couldn’t hear her, he frowned and cupped his ear.
“Destonne! This isn’t funny!” Desperation bled into her voice as she felt her memories slip further away. After all she’d endured, she would not be left here. She summoned her flame, but it merely blackened the barrier.
In an impossibly long stride, Dez crossed, seized her around the waist, and dragged her through. Her heart lodged in her throat as she glanced over her shoulder at the barrier, then up at him.
“How did you know that would work?” she breathed.
“I didn’t, but I’m glad it did.” He held her tighter. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Speechless, she stared up at him. His smile only made her chest ache. And suddenly, she couldn't breathe, caught in this strange moment with him.
But the longer he gazed at her, the more the joy drained from his smile; and, as if he couldn’t look at her a moment longer, he turned to the entrance. With a vexed creak the door opened, and they slid through.
Once inside, Emmery’s eyes widened.
The enormous study could easily devour the Merikh’s library, but unlike Castle Dusk, this shadowy windowless space sent a chill skittering down her spine.
Since neither of them knew what to search for, they perused the cluttered tables and shelves littered in papers and strange magical contraptions.
The thin red rugs covering the creaky floorboards reminded her far too much of the blood river.
Like the room itself sensed their presence, sconces flared to life as they passed by.
She surveyed the wall covered in countless books, each more ancient than the next, all in a blur of earthy colours.
Each book hummed with the same strange energy.
She turned to a series of closets and locked doors.
Over her shoulder, she whispered to Dez, “What do you know about Deimos?” The first doorknob rattled under her trembling hand.
“He was a scholar,” Dez replied, equally hushed though his deep voice carried. He rifled through the papers on a nearby table, then moved to the bookshelves. “He was passionate about animals and beautiful women. Before he was trapped in that slab of ice, of course.”
Emmery eased open the door to find a mostly empty broom closet. She clenched her teeth and slid it shut with a soft click, though clearly no one else was here. And why would they be? This damn vault of a room only had one key, which now was tucked between her breasts.
As she tried the second to last door, her chest cinched tighter. A strange stain seeped beneath, darkened the carpet, the colour aged like it had been there for hundreds of years. She fought with the sticky handle, but when the warped door nudged open, her stomach bottomed out.
“What sort of animals?” she whispered, her voice full of horrors.
“All kinds, but the stories say he had a couple of pet sabers. Some believe he experimented, and that’s how he created those demons and the guardians. It was a trade for—” Destonne stalled as he caught sight of her face. He set down the book in his hand. “Emmery?”
She barely heard him. Her blood iced over as she stared, unable to comprehend what lay in that dark room of death and pestilence.
As the edges of her vision frayed, Dez’s hands found her shoulders.
He briefly glanced into the room before he turned his face away.
But Emmery stared.
Cages of all sizes, some as tall as the ceiling while others were the same capacity as a satchel, lined the room. Dried blood and decayed flesh seeped from them and into that red carpet.
Then there were the bones.
The twisted skeletal remains gave no impression of what they once were. Like animals had been grafted onto others and extra limbs sewn on to bodies to see if they would keep. Those images seared into the backs of her eyelids.
Emmery leaned to the side and her stomach heaved. Destonne caught her hair as she convulsed, but nothing came up.
“It’s alright,” he said. His voice shook as he rubbed her back. “It’s alright—I’ll close the door, Em.” He edged it shut and helped her to a chair. “Here. Sit. I’ll get you some water.” He searched the room like it wasn’t a chamber of horrors and refreshments would be within reach.
Numbly, Emmery plunked herself down, and choked, “Why? Why would anyone—” She clamped her hand over her mouth as thoughts of those poor creatures’ daily pain consumed her mind.
And Aera. What if someone had done that to her? She’d been in the Guardian’s clutches. Had he planned that? What if she hadn’t saved her?
Too fucking tight, her chest stuttered, and she sank her fingers into her dress to tug at the laces and clasps, but they wouldn’t loosen. Panic seized her and she clawed at the corset to no avail. She gasped and wheezed.
Dez’s attention snapped to her. He crossed the room and crouched, a slight tremble to his hands as he placed them on her knees. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t—I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” She gasped, hot coals raking her lungs. “Take it off!”
Without hesitation, Dez tugged his shirt over his head and draped it over her, while she yanked her dress down to her waist. He rounded the chair and his deft fingers snapped the clasps one by one until the corset’s hold released.
It sprang open and she nearly doubled over in relief.
She sucked air into her oxygen-starved lungs as her ribs expanded.
With disdain, she tossed the corset across the room and clutched Dez’s shirt to her chest.
He retrieved the key that had tumbled to the floor, and turned to give her privacy. “Not exactly how I imagined undressing you tonight,” he said so low she assumed the words weren’t intended for her.
Since her dress provided no modesty, she shrugged out of it and buttoned herself into his shirt. The long garment covered to mid-thigh anyway. She rolled the sleeves to her elbows to free her hands. It would have to do. No universe existed in which she would put that contraption back on.
Dez toed a bunched segment in the rug and shoved his hands into his pockets. The muscles in his back flexed and stretched the smattering of bloody wounds, scabs, and scarred skin. “I’ll miss that corset. We have so many fond memories with it.”
Emmery huffed a hollow laugh. “I’m sure we’ll make new memories that don’t include aphrodisiacs, seducing a man to steal his keys, and suffocating for hours.” Also kissing you until my soul wept, she neglected to add.
He walked over to a large wooden chest and skimmed his finger along the thick layer of dust. The latch popped open and Dez sifted through it until he pulled out an impressive sword with a dark iron blade the length of his forearm.
“Heavy,” he noted. “And possibly useful.” He strapped its scabbard to his hip nonetheless.
“Anything in there for me?” she asked, peering around him.
“You hardly need it.” He walked to her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You already are a weapon.”
He gave her a lingering look before he continued past her to the last door.
Emmery followed, afraid of what hid behind it.
He twisted his mouth to the side and stared at the door handle, like he, too, feared what horrors awaited, maybe infinitely worse than the last. But he turned the handle and threw open the door like ripping off a bandage.
Ahead an enormous fountain centered a lush garden of the reddest roses Emmery had ever seen. Her heart battered her ribs as they entered, and her gaze darted from side to side, sure something lurked in the shrubbery that had absolutely no place being here.
And the roses bled, dripping onto the grass below.
The strange fountain resembled a creature with the body of a man and face of a beast, its jagged teeth bared in a grin. From his outstretched hand, blood spurted. Tucked under one of its arms was an angel, her blank face and severed wings now merely stumps. Emmery’s stomach churned.
Surrounding that fountain sat several rows of empty vials wrapped in vines and overgrown foliage, as if the fountain had been abandoned for some time, and nature reclaimed it.
Emmery plucked a vial and handed it to Dez before she selected one herself. Blindly, he took it, his eyes fixed on some text on the fountain’s base.
Her heart roared in her ears as she watched him read, his hand over his heart, rubbing the space as if it ached.
When his eyes flicked back to hers, he said, “It translates to ‘Make your wish. Claim what’s yours. Leave nothing but blood’.”
“With all magic, there’s a sacrifice of some kind. An offering.” She frowned at the fountain. “Do you think it wants blood?”
Destonne tilted his head and gave a quick nod. “It’s worth a try.”
Emmery stepped toward it first. “But it wasn’t me who made the pactum.” She bit into her cheek until it hurt. “Do you think it’ll still work?”
“I’m not sure, Em. Reize only said the pactums are kept here. And this fountain seems like it.” He stepped up beside her and offered his hand. “Since you’ve already bled tonight, what’s once more, yeah?”
She gave him her hand. As he bowed his head to slice a shallow line from a thorn from his crown, an image of him licking the blood, his soft mouth and warm tongue against her skin, sprang into her mind though she tried to chase it away.
His eyes flicked to hers as if the same image plagued him, too.
“Think of your wish,” he said, his voice hoarse, and attention wholly hers. “What you want. Your memories, and all your unanswered questions.”
Emmery squeezed her blood into the fountain and did just that. She thought of how badly she wanted reasons for her destruction of Ellynne. How she made her way to the gate. Why she had agreed to marry Vesper. Her past.
Answers for Shade. Who he was. If they had known each other before. Or if he truly only existed in her dreams.
The blood flow ceased and the fountain eerily stilled.
Iridescent liquid spilled into the angel’s cupped hands, a rainbow held within its depths. Emmery lunged to place the vial beneath before the liquid spilled into the basin below. When the vial filled to the brim, the trickle stopped. She corked the half-full tube and peered at the strange fluid.
“What do I do with this?” she asked. She searched for somewhere to tuck it, but had to settle for her sleeve, or rather Dez’s sleeve.
“I’m not sure. But I have a contact that may have answers.”
He sliced his palm on one of his thorns and slowly extended his hand over the fountain. Ripples echoed below as his blood dripped.
Like a god, Dez stood before the fountain. The image of him dressed only in his trousers, back covered in scars and blood, oozed divinity, like poets would write ballads about this and artists would spend hours painting his likeness.
She shook the ridiculous thought loose.
As the third drop fell, the fountain stilled and the stream stopped. The surface froze over. Black ice crackled along it. Dez stared, his eyes wide.
But as the angel cried once more, liquid spilled into her hands, however this time, she cried tears of blood.
After he successfully caught the blood in the vial and corked it, the tension fell from his shoulders. He met Emmery’s gaze and gave her a dazzling smile, all sunshine and warmth and victory.
Before she could return it, a huge pair of yellowed eyes appeared in the brush behind him. Then another. And another.
The door slammed shut behind her. A lock clicked into place.
And Emmery bit back a scream.