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Pain swirled through me in rough, insistent eddies. My vision wasn't working right. Circles of darkness spun across it, expanding and contracting in dizzying rotation until, finally, I closed them. I couldn't think, but somewhere deep inside, I knew two things. I was alone, and I was dying.
Drakat was inventive. I'd give her that. The elaborate designs cut and burned into my arms and legs might qualify as artwork. But where scarification only cut the top layer of skin, Drakat had gone deeper. I lost the use of my left hand in the first few minutes when her knife slipped and she severed the main tendon in my forearm. She’d carved strange patterns into my torso.
I wondered hazily if she was creating some kind of spell work in my blood, her comment about turning me into a wall hanging notwithstanding. If she was, there was nothing I could do about it.
A soft draft of air whispered through the room and I shifted my eyes to look for the source. I didn't have the strength to turn my head.
"Oh Charlotte, what has she done to you?" Imogen eased the door shut behind her and hurried across the stone floor.
Why is she naked? The thought faded before I could catch it, and I met the horror in Imogen's eyes without flinching. I could only guess at what she was seeing, and given my recent past, I didn't want to know.
"Imogen, don't..." I said, but my voice was nothing more than a thin wisp of sound.
After her illusions, and my subsequent defiance, Drakat spent an hour working on me before she threw a sheet over my body, commenting that she didn't want me to catch cold while she stopped for lunch.
I thought it far more likely that she knew the cloth would be rough against my open wounds, providing a subtler form of torture than she'd tried so far.
She hadn't gotten what she wanted. I couldn't take any pride in my refusal to cooperate, though.
I couldn't give her what I didn't have.
She'd used magick to keep me awake through all of it, and the spell hadn't worn off yet. I was tired. So very tired. Any kind of sleep would be welcome, even if I never woke up again.
Drakat left a trail from me to the door with blood dripping from her fingers. Imogen's foot slipped and she looked down, going sallow when she saw what she'd stepped in.
My blood.
Her approach cleared the fog in my brain and I scanned the room frantically. "Is she here?" But I knew she wasn't. If Drakat had been present, Imogen would not be alive to track more crimson footsteps across the floor.
She couldn't be here. No one could be here. Drakat would be back, and then there would be two tables.
"Get out. I'm already dead. You can't save me." The words were in my head. I wasn't sure they made it past my lips, but Imogen shook her head.
"I wouldn't leave a seagull to suffer like this, let alone a person. Those are iron, yes?" Not waiting for my answer, she turned to the tool tray Drakat had been using, and I flinched. Her lips tightened, but she didn't comment, searching among the bloody implements until she found a long, thin blade Drakat had been particularly fond of.
It was all I could do to lie still as she inserted the end into the keyhole, trying to push the tumblers into place so the lock would release.
"Not that one," I rasped. She was working on my left hand, and if she had a chance of succeeding, I wanted the working appendage free first.
She didn't ask why, but switched to my other side.
"Why are you..." My voice ran out of gas and I licked my lips, trying to work up enough spit to moisten my dry throat.
"The countess sent imps to Trócaire House to take me. I'm guessing she intended to force Ryleigh to trade the Ouroboros for my safety."
I’d already guessed as much. "No, why are you..." My throat clogged, cutting off my words again.
"They brought me here, and from their talk, I figured out they had you, so I—"
The lock clicked, freeing my wrist. I pulled my arm up and cradled it against my chest, only to hiss in pain as I scraped the open wounds there.
"No. Why are you naked?"
Her head came up, mouth open, eyes wide with surprise. Then she grinned. "I'm a merlin shifter," she said. "Clothes don't shift."
The smile faded as she hurried around the table to the other side. On the way, she stopped to undo the leather restraints on my feet. The binding had buckles, not locks, but with my hands tied, they'd been just as effective as manacles. Once my legs were free, she finished her circuit and started work on the shackle on my left hand.
The tiniest movement sent waves of agony shooting through me, but I felt hope unfurl its soft wings inside me. For the first time since I realized I was bound with iron, it occurred to me that I might not die here after all.
A sharp snap reported her defeat as the blade broke.
"You've done enough, Imogen. You need to get your baby out of here while you still can," I said as hope fluttered against my insides in agitation.
Instead of leaving, Imogen looked around the room. There were five small windows and one door. Only the door had a latch and could be opened. Furniture consisted of a wall mirror, bookshelves, the table I lay on, and the instrument tray set on a wheeled cart. The second shelf held a selection of hammers.
I shivered. Drakat hadn't used any of those yet, so I hadn't known they were there.
Imogen ran to the bookcase and grabbed an armload of books, which she stacked up under the window. Returning to the cart, she studied the array of hammers before picking up a medium-sized one and marching back. Standing on the books, she knocked out one of the glass panes, cursing softly when she realized there was a screen outside. Moving faster now, she came back to the cart, tossed down the hammer, and picked up a large blade knife, which she used to slice a good size hole in the mesh. The damn cart seemed to be a one-stop shop for escape and torture both.
"There," she said. "If the countess shows up, I can shift in a minute and be gone. Now, I have a job to finish." She flipped the lock over and shook it, letting the piece of snapped blade rattle out, sending sharp tremors through my arm.
I sucked back my gasp and let her work. Picking up the scalpel just larger than the one she'd broken, she stuck it carefully into the lock.
"Well, now. This is a surprise."
Imogen whipped around, the knife clutched in her hand. Hidden behind her, I stuffed the corner of the sheet between the iron manacle and my wrist. If I could break the connection between the iron and my skin, maybe I could reach a ley line.
It was a slim hope, but better than nothing.
"But a pleasure, nonetheless." Drakat leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. "Pregnancy suits you, Miss Chase, as does nudity, but I'd rather see you in this." She held up an iron band, and Imogen flinched. The collar would keep her in human form.
"Leave her alone." Abandoning my efforts at creating a buffer for the moment, I reached to my right, feeling for a blade. My vision was still cloudy, but maybe if I threw it, Drakat would be distracted long enough for Imogen to shift and get away. I prayed silently to the goddess that the demon didn't know what the woman was.
Drakat laughed. "What a delight you are, Ms. Knox. Nearly dead yourself and still trying to defend others. Seems almost a pity to kill you." Her laughter stopped abruptly. "But I'm going to anyway."
She lunged and I threw the knife. "Imogen, go!!" The knife sang past Drakat's ear and the demoness dodged as Imogen ducked under my table. Adrenaline surging, I grabbed two more knives from the cart, dropping one on the bed next to me and throwing the other.
It went wide. Drakat didn't even have to change direction. Desperate to give Imogen more time, I threw the second one, taking a split-second longer to aim.
It landed with a solid thunk right between Drakat's feet, and she paused to stare at me. A flurry of wings erupted from under the bed and a merlin falcon streaked for the broken window.
Drakat’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widening. "No! Get back here!" Sprinting after the fleeing bird, Drakat stretched to catch her, but it was already too late. Imogen burst through the broken pane and out into the sunlight.
The demoness snarled as she stalked toward me. I inched my free hand toward the cart, biting back a sigh when my fingers closed over the hammer's handle.
"Back off, Drakat. You'll never get Caraigama now. You've lost."
She didn't hesitate. Her face a mask of fury, she launched herself across the last two feet, claws out to rip my throat. Screaming through a surge of pain, I swung the hammer with every ounce of force I had. It was angled sideways and the flat edge slammed into her head, knocking her off her trajectory.
She fell to her knees and swayed, stunned.
I doubted it would last long, and I dropped the hammer to the bed between my knees. Fingers free, I tugged and jerked at the sheet, trying to create the buffer I needed between my skin and the iron.
"A second," I muttered, glancing up every other heartbeat to check Drakat's condition. "All I need is a—"
Drakat's eyes cleared, and she staggered to her feet. I felt the impact of my connection to a nearby ley line as I pulled the cotton sheet further through the narrow gap between the iron and my wrist.
"Oscailte!" A thin beam of white light struck the lock and it fell away with a sharp ping. Free now, I scooped up the hammer and threw it at Drakat, slipping off the bed as she ducked.
My knees buckled and I grabbed for the edge of the exam table, determined to stay upright. If I fell now, there really was no hope.
Touching two fingers to the wound on the side of her head, Drakat brought them down and stared at them for a moment in bemusement. Her expression hardened. "No one has ever struck me and lived to tell about it."
"I would dearly love to be the first." I shoved the bed hard, hoping like hell I was right and it had wheels like a hospital gurney. The table rolled away from me, smacking into Drakat at hip level and sending her sprawling.
Breathing hard, I looked down. The pentagram I'd seen before wasn't just painted on the stone tile; it was carved into the floor. My blood glistened in the rim of the center circle, filling it without a break. Jerking my gaze up, I was just in time to collapse to my knees as a hot wave of ley line energy hurtled toward me.
The ugly green ball passed overhead, hissing as it smashed into the instrument tray, sending knives and hammers flying in every direction. A dagger with a wavy edge spun to a stop lying across the circle's boundary and I grabbed it up as I dragged myself backward out of Drakat's physical reach.
"I will kill you. Slowly, painfully," she said, her lips drawn back in a feral snarl.
"You tried that," I panted, scooting back another foot. Black spots danced across my vision and I gritted my teeth, willing them away. I wasn't going to last much longer. I had to get on the other side of the circle and end this quickly.
Drakat glanced from me to the blood circle she had accidentally created, and I felt the crushing weight of despair settle over me as she grinned. "Clever, clever little witch." She threw her head back and laughed, taunting me. "But if you think I'm going to oblige you by stepping into a trap, you are out of your mind."
Stepping lightly, almost dancing, she moved around the circle and I scooted back, every movement, every touch on my wounds a sea of glass shards stabbing at me.
Pulling on a line, I shoved the energy out through my right hand, sending it to slam into Drakat, pushing her away from me. The power burned, leaking through my cuts and bruises like water through a sieve. I didn't have enough strength left to use even my normal amount of magick without hurting myself.
Drakat stood up, brushing the dust from her outfit, now ripped down one side and stained with my blood from her slide across the floor.
I grinned tiredly. At least I managed to muss her hair before she killed me.
"You are getting far too annoying." I felt her tug on a ley line and, with a flip of her hand, she sent the scattered blades flying at me.
Curling protectively around my damaged left hand, I lifted my right into the air. "Sciath." He trotted to the back door and poked his head in. A muffled roar from inside was the only warning before he stumbled backward, tripped over his feet and went down.
A large, lumpy female imp trudged out of the rear entrance, warty hands on her ample hips. "Where in Hades have you been? I made us a special dinner, which is all ruined now, because you ran off. Again." Her eyes squinched above her pug nose and she sniffed the air as Grag scrambled to his feet.
"I wouldn't leave you, Brulg. I just went so's the mistress wouldn't act all hasty like." He glanced around furtively. "She ain't close by, is she? It's only, I don't have what she wants, and I'd hate to upset her."
Crossing her hairy arms over her chest, the imp glared down at her boyfriend. "No, she's upstairs with the latest morsel. We got a bit of time." Her arms fell to her sides and her shoulders drooped. "Why'd you come back empty handed? You know how she is. You best disappear before she finds you here."
Stepping closer, Grag took her hand, tugging until she fell into step beside him. "I will, soon. But I wanted to see you again before I go." He led her to the far side of the blackthorn, where they would be hidden from the house. Still talking, he encouraged her to sit with her back to the kitchen and neglected garden.
Cole led the other three in a half crouch across the grass to the back door. A moment later, they were inside.
The elf chained to his bench looked up without hope, sitting silent as they filed in. Tall and thin, he looked young, as elves always did. Blond hair with green streaks in it fell to his shoulders, dirty, but with the beauty shining through. Leaf green eyes looked the newcomers over without expression.
Pinned to her jacket, Ouroboros watched with interest as Ryleigh took in the chain and her eyes filled with anger. Creeping closer, she laid a finger over her lips, and the elf nodded. Ryleigh looked over the lock, careful not to touch the chain or the manacle with her bare skin.
"We don't have time," Cole began, but Ryleigh ignored him, beckoning Nate with a nod. The boy hurried over, digging a pair of thin metal rods from his pocket as he came. Grimly, he set to work on the lock.
Cole looked at Nate. "How fast can you—"
A sharp, metallic click struck the air and the lock fell from the elf's shackle, freeing him. "Have you seen a bird? A falcon?" Ryleigh asked him.
The elf shook his head. "Are you here for the women?"
Cole crouched close to him. "Women? One blond and the other dark haired with streaks. You've seen them?"
"No. I'm sorry, I didn't see them, but I heard the imps talking. One escaped. The other is in the tower."
"Thank you," Ryleigh said, resting a hand on his forearm.
He covered her fingers with his. "Thank you. I would stay and help, but..." He cast a frightened look at the kitchen's interior door. "They took my magick. I am no warrior, and now I have nothing to defend myself." He dropped his head in shame. "I am no good to anyone."
Squeezing his arm lightly, Ryleigh got him to look up. "I'm sure your family would disagree. You should go to them now. Maybe they can help restore your magick. We'll take care of the countess."
His eyes blazed. "Good," he said. He stood, swaying, and made his way to the door. Hesitating on the threshold, he looked out into the yard, then hurried silently out of the murky room into the light.
“The countess is with Char.” Boros turned his black gaze on Ryleigh. “Your mate was working to free Char when the demon returned and she had to flee.”
“Is Char alive?” Cole asked.
Boros looked at him. “For now.”
"I'll run point," Nate said. Before anyone could stop him, he shifted. His clothes fell away as he shrank down, his extra mass eliminated through the process of the shift. His arms elongated, the skin stretching, and feathers morphed from what had been a thin coating of downy body hair similar to that of any human child.
In under a minute, he was a raven, taking wing to make sure they weren't surprised.
"He's gotten faster," Ryleigh said.
"He's been practicing," Georgina said. "He wanted to surprise you."
"Let's go." Cole started through the door, edging around the opening carefully, the other two following as he moved into the hall. Nate was sitting on a lamp above them. He cawed softly and took flight down the hall, ignoring the flight of stairs to their left.
"In the tower." The whisper sounded loud in the silent building and Ryleigh turned, hands set to gather fire as her mother taught her. Imogen rushed down the stairs, fastening the buttons on her shirt as she came. "The countess has her in the tower. We have to hurry."
Cole took three steps down the hall before the kitchen door crashed open, the hinges shrieking in protest.
Brulg stood in the open doorway, holding Grag by the scruff of the neck. "You freed the elf!" she roared. "Now who will gather the herbs and stir the soup? I think maybe one of you will."
Knocking Grag on the head with a meaty fist, Brulg dropped him to the stone floor. "I only need one of you. The rest I will hang for meat. Which of you will be the best slave?"
"Cole, go. We'll handle this," Ryleigh said. She faced Brulg with quiet determination.
Georgina and Imogen closed ranks on either side of Ryleigh. Georgina crouched, her fingertips resting lightly on the floor. Her skin glowed tawny gold as she shifted, her limbs melting and reforming in new configurations. A moment later the spotted leopard growled at Brulg, the sound a challenge and a threat rolled into one.
Imogen’s clothes collapsed as she disappeared in a flutter of feathers, landing on Ryleigh's shoulder a moment later.
Cole sprinted down the hall after Nate.
Brulg roared, her voice echoing through the house, and the air trembled with the pounding of running feet.
"Ladies, sounds like we are about to have some extra company," Ryleigh said. "Keep them entertained, will you, while I take care of Brulg?"
Spinning, Georgina focused on the two halls, while Imogen took flight, watching their backs.
