I found myself in a dimly lit, rectangular room. At the furthest end from me, an alcove of three shelved walls showcased a breathtaking array of literature, a grand elaborately carved desk nestled in the library’s cosy niche. On the desk sat a small silver tray, a decanter and two glasses. I stood at the other end, where a fire crackled merrily in the grate at my back, my bare feet sinking into the pile of a thick, burgundy rug.
A long, gossamer gown clung to my figure when I moved, its nude shade perfectly matching my skin. Looking down, I realised I was naked beneath, and felt very exposed. The filmy material did nothing to maintain modesty. My hand went to my hair, curls somehow piled on top. The room was empty, but I could not drag my attention from the door to my left at the halfway point of the longest wall, which was covered by rich crimson-and-gold flocked wallpaper.
I willed myself to go over and try that ornate brass knob, to check it was locked. Maybe I could jam a chair underneath it. My feet refused to move. What was the point anyway? I didn’t have a key or a suitable chair. Making a dash for freedom didn’t even enter my mind. A cool draught forced me closer to the warmth of the fire and I sank to my knees, still rapt by that door.
Something was very wrong, but I could not decipher the cause. Memories trickled away when I tried to concentrate, replaced by a void of confusion. Was I drunk or drugged?
And then the handle softly turned. My heart thudded like a sparrow trapped behind glass, riveted as the door swung slowly inwards. Seth slipped into the space, moving with leonine grace.
Up close, he was obscenely attractive. The type of man whose charisma sucked the oxygen from a room when he entered, slowing time, as all who looked upon him stared with open-mouthed envy and awe. People would fall over themselves to please him and bask in the privilege of his favour for even a fleeting moment. His magnetic pull was abnormal.
“On our knees a little early, aren’t we? We haven’t yet been formally introduced.” His eyes roved slowly over my body and I didn’t have enough arms to cover myself properly. “Although I dare say the view is delicious.”
I blinked briefly up at him, too scared to stare for more than a nanosecond. He gazed back at me with a captivating smirk. The glimpse was ample, his magnificence scalding me. He wore jeans and nothing else. Bliss budded deep inside without my say-so. He seemed fully healed from his ordeal with Finesse I’d seen in my visions – not a bruise or abrasion marred his glowing tawny complexion. A little over six feet tall, when not doubled over by a noose around his neck, his physique was formidable.
He radiated an addictive charm, a masculine appeal so enticing as to be impossible to resist. I dared not appraise his face for longer; there was trouble enough in the rest of him. I kept my attention on the mat, squared my jaw and swore I would not yield to his allure. Unfortunately, any oaths I made were disposable as he addressed me in a quiet, cultured tone that was a symphony to my ears.
“Did you like the poem?”
“A version from Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil,” I mumbled, not wanting to, ‘To the Reader’.”
“Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin invade our souls and rack our flesh; we feed Our gentle guilt, gracious regrets, that breed Like vermin glutting on foul beggars’ skin. A perceptive assessment of humanity.” His voice grew softer and sadder. “I did not expect you to be so like her. Look at me.”
My lips pressed thin with the exertion of resisting. I laboured not to extend my neck and bring my face upright. I would keep my eyes closed. I would not look at him. On both counts, I failed miserably.
“Oh!” I could not help exclaiming upon sighting his angelic features.
Any offensive I planned faded away; he was so breathtakingly gorgeous. His straight lustrous hair, cut longer around his face, shone in shades of chocolate. His lips were full and inviting, his cheekbones wide and high, his nose regal. But his eyes fascinated above all else. I could not tear mine away. His were the most startling, fathomless blue that twinkled in the light. I was hypnotised, entranced by a cobra.
Seth glided over and knelt to face me. “Except for the hair.”
He reached out, pulling a pin from the bun and my hair tumbled down my back. He uncurled a strand next to my cheek. I would combust under the intensity of his lingering stare. I forgot to inhale until he let it go. The view of his carved chest, muscles tensing with motion, his chiselled stomach, a hint of dark fuzz trailing his belly to the low-riding stud of his jeans, moved my focus down to a place they should not. Denim strained over tight thighs. He smelled divine.
“Hers was long and straight, lighter than yours. She was very lovely too.”
He feathered my cheek with the side of his thumb. If touching my hair short-circuited my lungs, this level of intimacy torched me to ashes.
“Your eyes though … As virid as Egyptian jade. Stunning.”
I froze, insensate and unable to repel his advances. My mind was disturbingly blank, filled with an insatiable need. Every compliment he gave was exquisitely flattering, eroding my flimsy resistance. What reason was there to resist? He placed a hand on my chest and gently shoved me flat to the floor, dropping to lounge next to me. His face was so close to mine, I could see sapphire flecks in his cornflower irises.
“Tell me your name.”
An angry chorus of women’s whispers swept through my mind. Ignorant as I was, I grasped the innate truth: an enemy could never have my name. It was the key to dominating a Keeper, just as the acquisition of our enemy’s name was the key to controlling her. No. He leaned in, his lips at my earlobe. His hands lingered over my body to arrange me like a splayed butterfly. He rolled onto me, propped up on elbows, his legs between mine. I desperately swerved from awareness of his arousal. It was forbidden. I was meant for someone else. I defied the urge to touch him.
“Tell me your name.”
No. My body burned like blown embers, delicious flames licking below. This was wrong. I shook my head dumbly.
“I will make you tell me. And when you are under my influence, I will compel you to give the festering witch her Stone. She will murder us both and we will grieve no more for those lost. It is a favour to you, my gift. She can scour this tick-infested squat for all I care. Call it timely population control. Once we are gone forever, it will not matter.”
I listlessly moved a hand to press my temple. An out-of-place clatter accompanied the action. His lips imprisoned mine and he kissed me roughly, one hand behind my neck, pressing my face to his, the other at my waist, but heading south.
“Tell me your name,” he said gruffly, on surfacing. I quivered beneath him, gasping for air. “Do not fight me. Give in to your want and we can experience pleasure beyond heaven. A final indulgence before I die and am released once and for all from this torturous hole.”
My every atom ignited, ravaged by the wildfire of his unquenchable yearning. I drowned in him, his scent, his honeyed words, his passion so unrestrained I felt he’d never had another girl. His hand tickled my thigh, slowly bunching the folds of my skirt, fingertips sparking against bare skin to make me jump. Reflexively, my arms circled him. But that incongruous metallic jangle stopped me. What was that sound?
“Yes, that’s it.” He reached around and positioned my hand at the small of his back, within teasing reach of his tight bum. “Tell me your name.”
Winsome, my brain supplied, losing control. My lips trembled and I weakly willed them to be silent. He writhed against me, grinding rhythmically until white heat ignited, tingling from my toes. His hand reached the concavity of my ribs beneath my breast, the hotness of his skin a delectable contrast to the coolness of the night air on flesh no longer covered by fabric. A moan came from the distance, maybe my own, and I almost abandoned any pretence of refusal.
“Give yourself to me. Tell me your name.”
How could I not choose Seth? Lust swamped me.
“Goddamn it, Bear!” I mentally heard Smithy shout.
“Tell me your name.”
“Wake up, Dumpling.” A cranky yell, this time in the real world, brought me to full understanding. “Make the right choice!”
In Seth’s dream-state, one hand flew to my head with more clanking. The other grabbed for his trespassing fingers. No! “Get out of my mind,” I shrieked. “I am not yours!”
I roused with a start, blurry and disoriented. Alone, I lay on a blanket, which failed to stop the chill from the cold tiles beneath seeping through. My clothes, damp from a trip through the rain, clung to me and made the chill worse. My teeth started to chatter. Was this real? Fortescue hadn’t presented with spirulina and goji berries, as he usually would when I woke.
A long chain, handcuffed to my wrist, snaked from an open vanity attached to the drainpipe within. That was the clinking I had heard! I jerked my arm to test the strength of my bond. The metal links rattled noisily in the confined area, the steel bracelet unforgiving. Even though it kept me restrained, I blessed the sound that had saved me from certain disaster.
Water lapped rhythmically in time to the steady rocking of whichever prison this was. It took a while to grasp the sensation was genuine, not a figment of my overstimulated imagination. I was on a boat! How much time had passed since my capture? Not long enough for my clothes to dry, at least. I groggily took in my surroundings. I was in the head: nautical speak for the bathroom.
I’d been on plenty of luxury cruisers; the more ostentatious of Bea’s associates used them for networking. This closet was probably an amenity for staff, located deep below the waterline and not showy enough for a wealthy patron’s use. An absence of throbbing motors confirmed we were stationary. But for how long? And where was the enemy who had humiliated me to such an extent? The disgrace over what Seth could so easily force me to do was far worse than any threats of my slaying by the Crone.
I eased myself upright, cramped muscles protesting, and rubbed warmth back into my aching limbs, while inspecting my jail with more awareness. About three metres by two wide, there was a shower cubicle of beige tile to my right and a washbasin opposite with a mirror above. I rested my back against a narrow expanse of wall facing the toilet. Next to it was a sturdy door. It was locked, no doubt. The length of chain stopped me from crawling far, but stretching out to my fullest extent, I tried the handle just in case. It didn’t budge.
Repositioned at the wall, I lifted my arms to inspect the thick gauze snugly winding my wrists. Odd. What was the purpose of these bandages? Was Seth concerned I’d chafe? But that was ridiculous. Besides, I only had a silver cuff on one arm, not both. I gulped an involuntary laugh, unwilling to give him a reason to investigate the hysterical status of his prisoner. As soon as I turned my focus to him, the scratching of a key in the lock happened instantly.
It was Seth, this time the actual version, not a phantom to besiege my brain.
I averted my eyes, concentrating on my sneakers framed by a square of tile at the base of the toilet. My pulse stampeded and my palms were clammy. He seated himself on its shut lid with a rustle of denim and I pulled my feet up close, hugging my legs. His bare feet encroached on my restricted view; even this limited bit of him appealed.
“We have established you are not completely without defences, Keeper.”
He was less than a metre away. From beneath my lashes, I peeked up his jean-clad calves at bloodied, torn knuckles resting on his knees. The true Seth had evidently been in a nasty punch-up. Considering his advanced healing capacity, the fight must have been recent. Seeing him hurt was most satisfying.
Seth spoke, that rich tenor overloud in the confined space and triggering fresh anxiety. “Are you curious as to how I penetrated your security?”
I was, and made the mistake of looking into his face with raised brows. I gasped, but not because of his beauty. One cheek was marred by a puffy, eggplant bruise. The shape of a diamond indented its centre, where a familiar ring bearing the engraving L&H 4ever had left a mark. The force of the blow had swollen the eye above shut.
Hugo had attacked Seth and broken his cheekbone, bless him. But if Seth had won the clash, I hated to guess what Hugo looked like. If he was still alive. Yet, I’d heard him shout, loud and clear … And somewhere close enough for me to heed. Hugo was definitely on this boat. Once in awareness, the certainty would not fade. It gave me a new purpose and a reckless disregard for my true danger.
Seth smiled that smug smile, sprawling on his throne. Palm to his face, he swept his hand from the bottom of his chin to his forehead. Hugo’s likeness suddenly shimmered where Seth’s had been a moment previous. My jaw dropped in dismay.
“All the better to trap the unwary. Transformation is another of my many skills.”
How would I ever trust my eyes again? He passed his palm back down and his true visage reappeared. Then the bastard did it again, displaying a new portrait. This time, the mask was almost too hazy to identify. I squinted until recognition struck. It was a poor rendering of Smithy.
“No,” I yelled. “Leave him alone.”
“He is rather prominent in your head,” Seth purred. “Shall I take his name in your stead?”
“If you find it so simple to raid my thoughts, why don’t you just steal my name. Why bother with the porn act?” My cheeks burned, which amplified my anger.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Seth chuckled, using Smithy’s mouth. “Fun. You are a little firecracker, aren’t you? And your sexy squirming and groaning suggests anything but an act.”
“Unlock this thing.” Blushing furiously, I rattled my chain. “And I’ll show you fireworks. Coward.”
“You’ll need to do better than that, if you want to insult me. Do you know nothing of your heritage?”
“Thanks to your betrayal of the woman you were supposed to love, there’s no one left to teach me.”
How about that for an insult. His jaw twitched. I wondered what would happen if I goaded him to rage.
“Whatever have the Trinity been doing all these years?” he said reproachfully. “A Keeper’s name is her most cherished secret, accessible only from her own sweet lips.” He lingered over the words ‘sweet lips’, using Smithy’s voice. I wanted to vomit.
“The baby was a girl. Did you know? How could you be so disloyal to someone who tried to save you?”
“You judge matters you can’t possibly understand,” he snarled.
I told myself to shut up and stop baiting him, but the grief over my parents spilled out. “It’s a fairly simple choice: don’t disclose Raphaela’s location or save your own skin by telling that monster all you’d learned.” He blinked at me, as if I’d reached over and slapped him. “She loved you.”
“Let us talk about the one you love. Or are you too gutless to tell him how you feel? Your boy. Have you let him taste you in the dark? Has he peeled apart your layers with his tongue, little girl?” In the guise of Smithy, Seth moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Have you offered him your innocence for a quick hump in the muck?” Seth’s tone was savage with anger. “No, still pure? A rare trophy. If you like, I’ll spare you the indignity of dying a virgin.”
“Stop it!” I couldn’t stand the words spewing from this awful imitation of Smithy. And the reminder of him made the guilt acute. I missed Vegas badly, even the bossy, over-protective version. Seth warped what should be special, so it seemed worthless and vulgar. “Keep your grubby tricks to yourself. You’re a fiend who knows nothing of love.”
“Have you not heard, Keeper? Didn’t Hugo tell you? Love is trade, good for a cheap bargain. And he sold his sister for less than cheap. We all have our price, even your special boy.”
“What of your crimes? How much did your soul go for?”
“I never had a soul. Like you, I was damned from the moment of my birth.” He was Seth again, no longer taunting, but regarding me with an arctic stare.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I said, refusing to look at him anymore. I dropped my chin to my chest where I was determined it would remain.
“I would never have broken cover had I known what was at stake,” he spat. “Keepers are more deceitful than even her. You lie and pretend and make promises you have no intention of ever upholding. You peddle death like a plague. The world would be better rid of you completely. If I return Finesse’s cursed Stone, she will wipe us all from history. No misery can touch one who has never existed. That will be my reward.”
Suddenly, I understood. Raphaela had broken him when she’d hidden the truth of their child. He wanted revenge for what he saw as the ultimate treachery. And he was hell-bent on taking it out on me.
My head rose. “How many Keepers have you known to make claims about all of us?”
“Insolent, aren’t you? Have you not been taught respect?”
Wow, the guy who held me hostage took offence because I was being rude? “Respect is earned.”
“It is the least you owe me.” Seth leaned in close, glaring at me. My lungs seized and a cold sweat pooled along my spine. “I’ll tell you my greatest secret. Something the mistress of woe doesn’t even know.” I gulped. Sharing such a secret implied he didn’t believe I’d be around to pass it on. “I was there when the first of you started this hell. I was there when that thieving bitch, Isadore, stole the Stone from Satan’s whore and cursed the whole lot of us.”
My ancestors triggered this? We were responsible. Had Aunt Bea lied to me or didn’t she know?
“Seth!” he snorted. “Most wretched of all. Named for the Egyptian god of storm, Finesse’s mortal lover.” He rambled on, momentarily forgetting me. How? How could I get out of here? “Almost as mighty as the Crone herself, of unparalleled evil. Endowed with deathly charms. Do you know little keeper, that if you stare into my eyes, you are mine forever to do with as I please?”
His speech took on a hypnotic quality. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten me at all. He bent so that his lips brushed my ear, the warmth of his breath ruffling my soggy hair. Paralysed by his touch, I avoided his eyes at all costs. But of course, it was far too late. Combined with the spell of his voice, that gaze would cripple me. I was stupid to provoke him.
“Are you scared, little girl? You should be. I will have your name.”
Seth’s tone dropped an octave. In the periphery, ribbons of shadow seemed to branch out behind him. I risked a glance and regretted it. As sinuous as inky snakes, the shades undulated along the wall, others squirming up over the ceiling. The bathroom filled with a horrible harsh rattle. I was petrified by the thought of what would happen if those things touched me, hunching into a stiff ball.
“With a single word I can tell your heart to stop beating. Or break open your sternum and pluck it out like a quivering oyster from the shell.”
He sat back. Raising his palms to the level of his broad shoulders, he pressed them together as if in prayer. Gradually, Seth spread his hands wide along the length of his forefingers like the opening pages of a book. The loop of my arms broke and my legs parted of their own accord, revealing the front of my t-shirt. Focus glazed, he reached over and trailed two fingers down the middle of my chest between the rise of my breasts. He tapped my sternum and then began to push.
Those terrifying serpent-like things rippled faster across the walls towards me, their grating cacophony filling my head. I scuttled rearwards, but barred by the wall, had nowhere to go.
“Seth,” I gurgled. “Seth, stop.”
Agony radiated from the pressure of his fingers digging for my heart. I clasped his wrist in both hands and pushed back, attempting to wedge my feet against the toilet to gain leverage. But I was too short and the act bought me closer to him and his writhing spectres.
“I am the witch’s enforcer,” he said in a trance. “Anathema’s highest, most feared Captain. Do you like my pets? We call them the seethers. You don’t want to let them under your skin.”
“I’m not Isadore. I didn’t steal it.” I choked out. “I don’t know where the Stone is! I’ve never even seen it.”
His weight increased and I felt as if my lungs would explode. Oily tendrils crossed the mirror and penetrated the shower recess, almost at the wall I pressed against now. They would be on me in seconds. Desperation gave me another idea. Rocking on my haunches, I pinioned one foot on the floor and kicked at his arms with the other. They were bands of steel.
I changed tactic. Aiming for his face, I planted a mighty thrust with the sole of my sneaker on his broken cheek. He grunted, snapping backwards, and the heaviness on my chest immediately released.
We both slumped to our former positions, noisily sucking air. Thankfully, his fiends vanished. I stared up at him. He seemed shocked by his own actions, as if he’d spontaneously let go of control, compulsively running his fingers through his hair. The man was seriously unstable. There had to be a way to escape. What had Mrs Paget said before she left the warehouse? It must have only been hours ago, but seemed like days.
“None of my grubby tricks surpass your foul talents, little leech,” he murmured. “Your special gift for genocide. And of course, self-righteous hypocrisy.”
Genocide? “What are you talking about?” I rasped, battling the white-hot throb in my chest. I kept my hands balled in fists by my sides, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hurt.
He narrowed those dazzling ice-chip eyes at me. Somehow, the more time I spent in his company, the less attractive I found him. Tilting his head he asked, “Could it be that you truly do not know what you are?”
I had the strong impression my current ignorance was a blessing. But I was so sick of operating blind. “Tell me. I have to know.”
Seth peered at me, the faintest tremor of sympathy crossing his features. If that didn’t make my stomach drop, nothing would.
“Keeper, you don’t know what you ask. You offer me a better way to torture you than anything I could contrive.”
Why could I never shut my mouth?
