I hear wings beating above me. Willem lands lithely, folding his wings against his back. “Kane,” he says, voice filled with warning.
I ignore him, eyes locked on the shadowy form hidden in the trees. Aron, a castle guard, ushers the others out of the way as I stop beside the body. A girl with black hair, dressed in servant’s robes, lies in the grass. Her pupils are dilated, hiding her irises completely. But there’s no life behind these eyes.
“She was soul-leeched,” I mutter. “Inside my walls.”
“We think the intruder came through the servant quarters,” Aron offers.
“I want all of our best men hunting for the rogue Nephilim.” I tear my eyes away from the servant girl. “And I want all of you searching for Briar.”
I glance back down at the corpse. She was once beautiful, I’m sure. But now, in death, she simply looks terrified. I feel sorry for the woman. But I can’t deny the swell of gratitude in my chest, or my relief that the victim wasn’t Briar. I shove past the guards and into open space, taking a lungful of air. Grateful indeed.
Chapter 13
Briar
The cold seeps into my skin and into my bones, making my body ache uncomfortably. My fingers twitch as I wake, dragging over a freezing, smooth surface; like granite. I force my eyes open, fighting against the heaviness of the lids. I just want to sleep. I could sleep forever, if it weren’t for the cold tugging at my consciousness. I run my tongue over my dry, cracked lips and realize that the familiar weight of my mask is missing.
I wonder vaguely if I left it at the ball before I came to wherever this place is. I turn my head, taking in the space. I’m lying in a dimly lit room. A low-burning torch hands from the wall adjacent to a warped wooden door. The room is sparse, empty of furniture except for the slab I’m laying on and a rickety wooden chair. My mind is a fog of confusion as I take in the unfamiliar surroundings. There’s a warning prick in the back of my mind, a nagging thought that I shouldn’t be here.
The last thing I remember is being on the balcony with Kane’s mother. She threatened me. Is this another part of the ball? Another strange custom I don’t know? Perhaps it’s how the Gods and immortal creatures of the Underworld amuse themselves. I stare up at a spider on the ceiling. It works judiciously, weaving a web just above my head.
“Hello?” I call nervously.
Silence. My words echo around the small space, but there’s no response. Not even the spider acknowledges my words. I struggle to sit up, even though my limbs feel heavy like they’ve been dipped in lead. I grunt, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t rise. Panic sets in, fear and confusion roiling together until my heart is beating faster than it ever has before. I look down, eyes aching from the odd angle, and see a thick band of leather running over my breasts and biceps. Gasping, I try to move my legs but I feel the same binds holding them in place.
My fingers twitch with fear and I can’t seem to catch my breath. Eyes wide, I stare wildly around the room for any sign of my whereabouts. Deep down, I know this isn’t some prank, or even Desona’. This is real. Vaguely, I remember hearing rustling outside the balcony. I remember a dark shadow blocking out the city lights. And that’s the last thing I remember at all before the cold.
I swallow thickly, my thought dry from fear. I’ve been abducted. The spider above me starts making its way down on a silken thread. I watch in agony as it grows closer. Grunting, I wrestle against the restraints but they’re tight and immovable. My blood roars in my ears, pumping so quickly I begin to feel like I’ll pass out again.
“Help,” I cry, my voice strangled. “Somebody help!”
Footsteps echo in the hall and I clamp my mouth shut. Unless someone were already looking for me and had found me—the only one the footsteps could belong to is my kidnapper. I feel sick, wishing I had kept my mouth shut, as a shadow passes beneath the door. The spider stops its descent. My eyes dart between the spider and the shadow at the door as sweat beads on my forehead. The doorknob clicks and the spider scrambles back up its thread.
I stare, wide-eyed at the door as a figure darkens it. Bright light streaks around the man in the doorway, blinding me. I turn my head away from the light instinctively and then back towards the door, intent on not taking my eyes from the man. He closes the door, stepping into the room. My eyes adjust back to the dim light and I watch him fearfully.
The man is tall, with narrow shoulders and hips. His jaw is angular and sharp, and his eyes are small and beady and red. His white blonde hair has been cropped short on the sides and one lock hangs limply on his forehead. I feel a tremor shoot through me as he takes silent steps towards me. I wonder if it’s my soul shaking from fear.
“Hello, little mortal,” The Nephilim says with a warm smile.
“Let me go,” I whisper, straining against the leather.
“You don’t even want to ask why I brought you here? Or beg for your life? Or make me empty promises?” The Nephilim cocks a brow.