Jocelynn Drake - [Asylum Tales 02] (28 page)

I started to turn to look for Fox when I heard a voice directly behind me.

“Interesting approach,” he said as if he was admiring an artist’s use of light in a bucolic landscape painting.

Before I could move, pain exploded behind my eyes, blacking out the world. A sense of falling overcame me, but I couldn’t recall ever hitting the ground. My last thought was that I should have used the spell I’d perfected to debone fish on Henry Fox.

23

THE WIND WAS
blowing, but I couldn’t feel it. Tall grasses were swaying and the thick wall of trees in the distance was dancing in the strong breeze, but I felt nothing. I had no sense of time because the sky was a heavy gray as if a storm had moved in but had yet to dump its load of rain. Fingers twined with mine on my left and I looked over to find Lilith standing next to me. The sickly, gray cast to her pale skin made her look almost dead, but a frightening light danced in her dark eyes.

“Where are we?” I asked.

With a jerk of her chin, she motioned toward her left. I looked to find that we were standing a few yards from an enormous tower made of white marble. It gleamed against the dark sky like a spotlight shooting up toward the heavens. The Ivory Tower was one of eight that dotted the earth, housing the witches and the warlocks of the world.

I tried to step away from her, but she tightened her fingers around mine. “Why are we here?” I didn’t want to be anywhere around the monster that was clinging to a piece of my soul.

Lilith smiled and my blood turned to sludge in my veins. She was the queen of the underworld in a way. When a creature had to spend a year dead to pay a debt to magic, Lilith was the one who watched over him. When I passed through the underworld a few months ago, she had begged me to help her escape. And with my one-year debt and a portion of my soul, Lilith was positively itching to get me back into her domain.

“Help me escape, Gage,” she whispered in a silky, sinuous voice that coiled around my brain. “We can set everything right. Just you and I.” She raised her free hand toward the Ivory Tower before us, and in a rush, it was engulfed in flames. Behind it, one after another, trees burst into flames. Fire broke out of slender windows in the Tower followed by thick ropes of black smoke. The front double doors were flung open and people in black robes ran out as flames danced on their flailing limbs. Screams rose in the night to accompany the crackling of the fire and the thick scent of smoke that perfumed the air.

“I’m more powerful that any warlock or witch,” she said. Her low, breathy voice brushed against my ear, sending a chill across my flesh. “With you helping me, we can destroy the Towers. We can make this world new.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes off the people streaming out of the Tower, dying wretched, pain-filled deaths. People ran free of the building, engulfed in flames, only to drop to the ground and roll in an attempt to escape, but the fire didn’t stop until they were dead. Lying lifeless in the tall grasses that curled and blackened in the flames, the bodies sizzled and hissed like bacon on a cast-iron skillet. The witches and the warlocks were mostly horrible creatures, and maybe they deserved a horrible death for the atrocities they committed, but it wasn’t my place to decide.

“Would your reign in this world be any different than theirs?” I asked.

Her laugh was like someone had shoved fat needles into my skin. “Of course.” Yes. It would be different. The world would be far worse than its current fractured state with her running loose. The vision of the Tower burning was only the start. Lilith would bring hell to earth.

Unlike my dream of Bryce in which I woke up on a scream, this dream slipped away quietly and I slowly eased back into consciousness. Lilith was taunting me. Time was running out and I had yet to think of a way to escape her.

It hurt to
think. It felt as if every stray thought bouncing through my head came armed with a sledgehammer and a sadist grin. I was vaguely aware that my body ached, but it was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching, soul-searing pain filling my head. I could feel the bones cradling my brain sliding around, sloshing fluids and pinching tissue as they tried to settle into their respective spots.

Sucking in pained breaths through clenched teeth, I cracked one eye open to find a witch bent over me. Her fingers were pressed against my head, but I could barely feel it. She was staring down at me with chocolate-brown eyes, but by her grim expression of concentration, I wasn’t sure if she saw me.

“Take slow, deep breaths,” she directed in a low voice. “It will help.”

I tried, but it wasn’t easy, as I started to get light-headed. My eyes fell shut again and I could feel her move her fingertips to another location on my head. As my breathing evened out, the pain was starting to ebb and I could feel the soothing flow of magic through my body. She was using a healing spell, fixing whatever Fox had done to my head.

“Why are you healing me?” I asked, my voice rough. I opened my eyes to see her frowning, but this time she was looking at me.

“Master Fox can’t question you if you’re in a coma.” She released my head and took a step back.

I sighed with relief. A killer headache was still banging against the back of my skull, but it was significantly weaker than what I had been feeling. “Thanks.”

The witch’s face twisted with ugly rage. Lurching forward, she reached between my legs and grabbed my balls in a grip that had me screaming. Fresh pain lanced through my body, bowing it off the bed I was lying on while all the air rushed from my lungs. “Thank me again, traitor, and I’ll rip your balls off with my bare hands and feed them to you!” she snarled. She gave them a quick twist before releasing them and stomping out of the room. I was vaguely aware of the door slamming and locking behind her, but I could barely hear the sounds over my own moaning.

I tried to roll on my side, wanting to pull my body into a fetal position, but my arms and legs were tied to the posts of the narrow twin bed. There was no mattress below me, only a metal web of hooks that were now digging into my back and squeaking as I shifted. The pain eased, but I was ready to throttle the bitch. Shoot me, stab me, or set me on fire . . . that was fine. Just don’t grab my goddamn balls!

I took a deep breath and willed my heart to slow back down as I assessed the damage. My head and balls hurt like a motherfucker, but the rest of me seemed fine. I wiggled my fingers and rolled my ankles, checking to make sure that blood was reaching all my extremities. Well, if I could get loose, there was a good shot at me moving. The problem was getting loose and getting out.

Looking around, I found that I was in a small, windowless room with white walls and bare wood floors. The single door held a slight blue glow that I could pick out from the corner of my eye, indicating that it wasn’t just locked but also guarded by magic. Shit. Bunch of sneaky bastards. They couldn’t just put a guard outside the door to keep an eye on me?

Of course, I had a feeling there was a guard outside the door as well. A shudder ran through me as fractured memories from the parking lot seeped back into my consciousness. I had shut down when I hit Brownie and Greasy with those spells. I couldn’t let myself remember because I was afraid I would start screaming and never stop. It was one thing to kill for survival, to protect yourself and those you love. It was a completely different matter to subject your prey to a slow, painful death.

Sadly, I was certain I wouldn’t be penalized two years for killing them with magic because you couldn’t die from having your skin peeled off. You died from shock and blood loss. It was a technicality, but for some reason, the fates and balance of powers observed it. And Greasy wouldn’t die from being spun and heated. No, it was more likely that his feverish fat ass fell once the spell wore off and he died of splitting his head on the ground. I couldn’t dare owe Lilith a second year. Not after her most recent dream visit. A second death caused by magic would mean that I’d have to fight her for two years, and I doubted my resourcefulness when it came to such a task.

For a moment I wasn’t sure if it was sadder that those men had died because of what I did or because Fox had done nothing to save them. I banged my head against the springs beneath me in frustration and winced as fresh pain bloomed behind my eyes. Fox had hit me on the back of the head, cracking my skull and giving me a serious concussion.
Asshole.

It could have been worse, but I was sure that it was only a matter of time before Fox came back to put me in some real pain, in the name of extracting information.
Fantastic.
Considering the comment from the witch, I figured he either suspected that I had released the locations of the Towers or he was going to torture me until I confessed to doing it so he could have an excuse to kill me. I had to get out of here. Even if I handed over Reave’s name, it wouldn’t save me. I needed to strike a bargain with the Towers if I was going to get them to back off.

Looking up at where my right wrist was tied to the bedpost, I twisted my arm, testing the strength of the knot. It was tight, but as long as I didn’t mind a little rope burn and blood, I was pretty sure I could work it loose. I knew a spell to unravel the knot, but I didn’t want to use it. If there was a single brain in the building that held me, they would have set a spell to alert them if I used magic. I had to sneak out of here the old-fashioned way.

With my teeth clenched, I pulled and jerked, twisting the rope and stretching it as much as possible so that it slid over my hand. Blood was streaking down my arm and it hurt like hell, but this was nothing if I didn’t get moving. Carefully turning to my left so that I didn’t make any noise, I untied the knot and freed my hand before bending down to free my ankles.

It took me nearly a full minute to sit up and put my feet on the floor. As I shifted my weight on the springs, they screeched loudly. My breath caught in my chest as I waited for my guard to charge into the room before I was ready, but he never did. I moved each hand and ankle, one at a time, making sure that circulation was flowing back into my extremities and everything was working properly.

Standing, I paused to wipe my blood from the bed with my shirt and pocket the ropes that had absorbed my blood. If I escaped, I didn’t want anyone using it to find me again . . . or worse. There was an old belief that if you knew a person’s real name, you had power over them. It was bullshit. Blood, on the other hand, was a great way to get at a person.

I crossed the bare wood floor slowly, rolling my feet with each step to try to reduce any creaks and groans. Stopping a couple feet from the door, I got down on my hands and knees to gaze under the opening beneath the door while praying that I didn’t cast a shadow. At an angle, I could see a pair of shoes. It looked as if someone with big feet was seated outside the door. A man, or rather, a warlock.

Pushing to my knees, I inched a little closer to the door but was careful not to touch it. The spell was a simple one designed to keep me from using magic to pick the lock, which was also quite simple and old. By the age of the wood beneath me, the style of the door, and the old-fashioned iron doorknob with lock, I could easily guess that this was not a newly constructed house, which meant that the floors would creak and groan when I moved. Doorknobs would jiggle and rattle. Doors would moan when opened. In short, this was going to be a noisy fucking house for me to sneak out of.

But I didn’t need to get far. Just out of the house.
Without
being detected. If I could escape to a quiet location that was hidden, I could teleport. If I tried it in the house, not only would they know I used magic, but they’d be able to trace the spell to my final destination. Sure, I was going back to Low Town, assuming I wasn’t in Low Town at the moment, but I wasn’t going to my apartment. I needed to hit the parlor if these fuckers were going to continue to play rough.

But first things first. I had to take care of the asshole guarding my door. Standing, I soundlessly backed up until I was sure that I wouldn’t be trapped behind the door if he threw it open, but stayed as close as I could so I could jump on him when he came in.

I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, willing the twisting and knots in my stomach to ease. My heart was pounding, increasing the pain in my brain, but I was barely aware of it. I had to get this right. If an alarm was sounded, I knew Fox would be here in a heartbeat.

Fisting my hands tightly at my sides, I raised my voice to a frantic scream. “Oh God! No! God! No! Help! Oh God! No! Help! Stop it!” Over my desperate, hysterical shouting, I could hear the scrape of a chair and the pounding of footsteps heading toward the door. I kept shouting as the key was inserted and the door unlocked. As I had expected, the warlock threw the door open wide as he stepped inside, ready to take out whatever monster had apparently snuck into my room from the closet. Jumping across the distance before he noticed me, I gripped his short blond hair in one fist and slammed his head against the doorjamb as hard as I could.

His large body became deadweight as he was knocked unconscious. I grabbed his sweater with both hands and silently lowered him to the floor in hopes of not making more noise than I already had. If anyone had heard me, I was hoping that my shouts had been generic enough for them to think that my guard had stepped in to torment me. Sweat ran down the side of my face as I grabbed his feet and pulled him into the room before closing the door.

The big oaf was out cold. There was a smear of blood on the wall, but a pool hadn’t immediately started to gather on the floor, so he wasn’t hurt that bad. Kneeling next to him, I pocketed the old skeleton key he had used to unlock the door and then grabbed the wand he had dropped. I turned it over in my hand, testing the feel and gauging the energy inside of it before cursing my luck. It was made of yew.

I stood and glared down at the warlock before giving him a swift kick in the ribs. What was this asshole doing with a yew wand? Yew branches were strong in death magic, which was nasty business. I could use the wand, but I wouldn’t have the same kind of control over my spells that I did when I used my hands and I was a hell of a lot more likely to accidentally kill someone with a spell using this wand.

Regardless of my desperation, I wasn’t going to use the yew wand. I was better off with my hands. Of course, I wasn’t going to give this asshole the chance to use the wand should he wake up before I could escape. With a grin, I broke the wand over my knee. I dropped one half in front of him and shoved the other half in my back pocket without the hole. I’d burn the wand later. He wouldn’t recover the magic from this one.