Blood Before Sunrise

location. But then again, that was exactly why Fallon had chosen it. No one would bother to ask any questions. I watched the cars speeding by on the freeway. People headed home from work, going to dinner or a movie, living regular lives. My life was far from average, but it had been good. I had a job that paid enough to keep me comfortable and made me feel that I’d been serving a purpose. I’d finally managed to make a friend or two, and I had Tyler. Had. I doubted I could claim Tyler as mine anymore after I’d run off on him. And I might never see him again. I had no idea how long Fallon planned to keep me in O Anel. And for that matter, I had no clue how I was going to manage to kill him and get home-not when he controlled me so completely.

And what about Brakae? I had to protect her too. How long would all of this take? Centuries? The thought of returning to that green and endless place terrified me; yet I knew I had no other choice but to go and finish what I’d started.

Fallon came up behind me and squeezed my shoulders. How he could have thought we’d actually bonded over my kidnapping was beyond me. But then again, he was off his rocker in a serious way. Who knew what he thought about how I felt about him. “Iskosia is what connects the Guardian to the Time Keeper. The hourglass is like yin and yang, each keeping in balance with the other. The Guardian must be able to travel between the realms in order to protect the essence of time and the natural order.”

“Reaver?” I asked. “He’s a Time Keeper too?”

“Yes,” Fallon said with disgust.

“Who is his Guardian? Is there another key as well?”

“You ask too many questions.” His features hardened, becoming the threatening guise of controlled rage.

“Azriel used to tell me that.” I don’t know why I said it. And in the next moment, I regretted it. Fallon backhanded me, closed fist and all, sending me sprawling to the floor. My jaw had to be broken; the pop echoed in my ears like an explosion, the pain searing and instant. Without my quick healing, I’d have been FUBAR. As it was, Fallon’s heavy-handed punishments left me bruised from the inside out.

“You must like this sort of treatment to provoke me so often.” He spoke too calmly for my peace of mind before grabbing me by the hair and dragging me to my feet. Once, twice, and again for good measure, he slapped me. Blood trickled from a split across my cheekbone, mingling with what had begun to flow from my lip. The bastard didn’t need much provocation to rough me up. “What else did he tell you?” He shook me, hard, his face nose to nose with mine. “What secrets did he whisper in your ear before he died?”

“N-nothing,” I stammered. God, I did not want to be hit again. Banished memories blinded me with their pain. “He never told me anything. Ever. The entire time I knew him, he kept the truth from me.”

Fallon’s body relaxed, and he let go of my hair. I stumbled back, leaning on the tacky upholstered desk chair for support. Wiping at the trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth, I asked, “Why are you upset?”

He lunged toward me, and I shrank away, trying to make myself as small as possible. In midstep he stopped, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath. He rolled his shoulders, tipped his head to the ceiling, and exhaled. When he leveled his gaze on me again, liquid silver swirled in his eyes. “Come here.”

I only stood a few feet away; yet I felt the pull of his command and the sudden urge to sprint to his side. With hands as gentle as they had been harsh, Fallon released the toggle from the clasp and removed the emerald necklace from my neck, making it once again a simple pendulum. Dangling it in front of me, he commanded, “Take it.”

I reached out, drawn to the emerald’s call. So far lost to Fallon’s control, I hadn’t even considered using the pendulum as a means to escape. And if I had, would I have even known how to use the damned thing? My trips into the Faerie Realm had been accidental at best. My fingers brushed the silver chain, and time seemed to suspend itself…

A pounding on the other side of the cheap metal door rattled the hinges that threatened to break from the pressure. “Darian!” A familiar voice called out. “Darian, are you in there?”

Raif.

Jesus Christ, my heart pounded at the sound of his voice, drawing my attention from the pendulum. Fallon seized the emerald from my hand, stuffing it in his pocket before drawing his dagger, which he held tight to my throat. “Not a word.”

Raif! I screamed in my head, desperate for him to break down the door. Get me the fuck out of here!

My captor pulled me against his chest, one arm squeezing the air from my lungs, the other wrapped tight around my neck. All it would take was a long, loud sigh and I’d be as good as dead. Fallon wasn’t the kind of person to waste his time on idle threats. Another round of thunderous pounding followed Raif’s shouts, and the door creaked in its frame. Fallon’s wards held, though, and Raif might as well have been trying to kick through a solid stone wall.

Despair stabbed at my ragged emotions, sharper than the blade Fallon held to my skin. And even if I’d had the balls to call out to Raif, a nagging thought stole the fight right out of me: Why bother? You’re as good as dead. Don’t bring him down with you.

As if he’d heard me, Raif’s struggles with the door stilled and a dead silence settled. Oh God. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered. What would happen to me if my only hope of escape had actually thrown in the towel?

The air around me became dense, permeated with a sweet aroma that banished the stench of Delilah’s death from my nostrils. I stared at the door, my breath stalling in my lungs, and watched as dark threads of glistening shadow snaked their way through the tight cracks between the door and the jamb. The Soul Shadows twined back and forth, in and out, weaving around the doorknob, the hinges, the door itself, before crushing the barrier upon itself like a rag being wrung dry.

Raif stood on the other side of the threshold, sword in hand, a warrior’s fierce battle lust shining in his deep blue eyes. He stormed through the entry, Fallon’s wards broken by Shaede magic, poised and ready for a fight. Unfortunately for both of us, I stood between him and my captor’s death, a shield well used, my body tight against his.

“I thought you and the Jinn would have killed each other by now,” Fallon said. “I suppose if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself.”

Raif didn’t grace him with an answer. Instead, his discerning gaze raked me from head to toe, no doubt taking stock of my bloodied face, evidence of every bruise, cut, or scrape Fallon had just given me. I wanted to shrink away from his appraisal, my shame at allowing myself to be victimized all the worse from having him bear witness to it. I healed fast, but I couldn’t do anything about my disheveled appearance or the blood that remained.

“Darian,” Raif said, calm as a still pond, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to fight me for the right to kill this piece of shit.” Did he know me, or what? “Because I swear to you now, he’s going to fall beneath my sword.”

God, I hoped so. I could live with knowing it wouldn’t be me ripping his soul from his body as long as the bastard was dead. Fallon pulled me back until the bed stayed his progress. Then he hitched the dagger high beneath my chin. “Stay right here.” His too-warm breath sickened me as he whispered in my ear. “Don’t move a muscle.”

Arms limp at my sides, I waited in mute silence, literally unable to move. Raif stood at the ready, looking damned near itchy to launch himself onto Fallon and be done with it. But my kidnapper had something Raif didn’t: a determination born of madness matched with fanatical purpose. He didn’t waste time posturing for a fight. Nor did he use his voice to issue threats of violence. Oh, no. Fallon was a straight-up killer, and he launched himself at Raif without preamble.

Arms flailed, legs kicked, and fists flew, the muffled sounds of the fight coming to my ears as if through a tunnel. I watched in mute horror, unable to aid my friend, utterly helpless. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my teeth gnashed to the point of shattering as I fought against Fallon’s influence-invisible shackles even the strongest will couldn’t break. The quarters were close, their bodies too mashed into the tight space of the room’s entrance to gauge who had the upper hand. Raif fought like a man possessed, hacking at Fallon with two hands gripping his sword. But Fallon was fast and deft. He matched Raif’s assault swing for swing, defending as though he knew what Raif had planned a second before he executed. Raif raised his sword high, and a shout of pain followed by a grunt drew my attention just in time to see Fallon pull his dagger from Raif’s stomach. The deep crimson of his blood was barely visible against the black blade until it dripped from the sharp point, landing on the dingy gray of the hotel carpet.