The Underground Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (21 page)

“Take her to
the pit,” Tiergan said to Demyan. He marched out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Emmeline
gathered herself to her feet and pressed a hand to her cheek.

“Go ahead,” Demyan said
gesturing to the fire. “Heal yourself. I am not afraid to let you use your gift in my presence,”

Emmeline’s b
row creased. How was it that Tiergan seemed clueless about the most basic rules of her power, and yet Demyan knew she could heal herself with it? How much did he know?

“Are you so unwilling to open yourself to the flame around me? Rest assured, i
f I wanted to control you, your hands would have been bound the second you walked into this room.”

Emmeline pressed her lips
together. He knew more than she thought. One word of it to Tiergan and her battles with him would become a thousand times harder. And yet three weeks had come and gone and Demyan had said nothing. Why? Surely Tiergan had expressed his frustrations about her with him. Emmeline scowled. Why hadn’t Demyan said anything?

She needed
to heal herself, but could she trust him enough to take on heat while he remained in the room? If she opened the floodgates, would she be able to shut them? She tested the room for a pull from the fire, an unnatural need that was not her own. She felt nothing more than her own desire swelling up inside her. She craved the fire’s touch, its warm embrace. Her cheek throbbed. Perhaps she could take on a little heat.

Keeping her eyes on Demyan
, Emmeline drew in a quick burst of heat and then cut herself off. She could have spent all day drawing on the fire’s strength, but she wasn’t taking any chances with Demyan in the room. Not with so much at stake.

The fire’s power coursed through her veins, soothing her aches, healing her wounds, and relaxing her tired muscles.
It energized her and she felt her bones stand a little taller.

“
Come, sit,” Demyan said, gesturing to the leather couch.

“I’m finished.”

“I see that. You’re eyes have turned to silver as well. The moon must have risen.”

Emmeline glanced around, but there were no windows.

“I never tire of watching the change.”

Emmeline frowned. When else would he have seen an Incenaga’s eyes change from blue to silver?

“It is a pity I have to throw you into Cantil’s Pit. It is a messy way to die. I prefer quick deaths. They are cleaner. Wouldn’t you agree, Emmeline?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Demyan chuckled. “Of course not. You are such a young flower, not yet in full bloom. I suspect you have not seen much that is unclean.”

Emmeline grimaced. She had seen enough death in her life to know that quick or slow, it was never clean. She turned her gaze away from his penetrating stare.

“Ah, but you have a fire in you,” he said. “A fire that burns brighter than the four fires in this room combined.”

“I won’t help you. I refuse to use my power to help you or Tiergan.”

“That is not the fire I had in mind, although your gift alone is substantial. I watched you with the pirates. That was no small feat. And for one untrained…" His voice trailed off.

“Who was that woman?” she asked
, tilting her chin toward the corner of the room.

A flash of weariness shadowed
Demyan’s face, but it was gone faster than it had appeared. “What woman?” he asked.

Emmeline pointed to the corner of the room. “I saw a woman over there.”

“There is no one there.”

“Not anymore. She vanished.”

“Vanished?”

“Don’t play coy with me. I know what I saw and I know you saw her too.”

Demyan stared at the fire, his eyes brooding.

“Who was she?”
Emmeline asked.

“Someone you need to forget.
For now.”

The crackle of burning wood
irritated her. “She looked like me,” she said.

Demyan nodded. “I won’t discuss her. Sit. Now.
”

Something flared inside her. Anger? Pride? Whatever it was, Emmeline snapped. She was tired of people ordering her around.
Closing her eyes, she opened the floodgates and the fire whooshed toward her. Her hair whipped behind her and her skirts pressed against the fronts of her legs. She pulled harder. If she killed Demyan, who would Tiergan have to threaten Erick? No one.

Emmeline
shoved her arms forward and the couch flipped over, dumping Demyan to the ground. He landed in a crouch, his black eyes slicing into hers.

“What are you doing, Emmeline?” he said in a calm voice.

With another wave of heat, Emmeline sliced her hand in front of her and the couch crashed into the wall. Nothing stood between them.

“What does it look like?
” she said. “I’m ending this and then I’m going home.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. If she eliminated Demyan, she would eliminate the biggest threat against Erick.

Demyan stood to his full height. “It’s too soon.”

“For who?” she shrieked.

She pushed her palms forward and a stream of heat left her hands. Demyan twisted and took a step forward, untouched. She sent another surge toward him
and he twisted again, still untouched.

“How are y
-”

He dove toward her, cutting her off, and they tumbled to the ground. Her head cracked against the marble
and she screamed in frustration. Fury took control and with sheer strength alone, she pushed him off her. He recovered himself in an instant and reached for her wrist, but she pushed a wall of heat toward him, sending him flying back. Just when she thought he would crash into the wall, he flipped in mid-air and landed on his feet.

“You’ll have to kill me with your bare hands, Emmeline,” he said as he sauntered toward her. “There are no weapons in here for your fire to push into me.”

“I don’t need a weapon.” She’d crush his windpipe, she set him ablaze, whatever it took.

“You do with me.”
             

Emmeline frowned. What did he know that she didn’t?
And how was he able to avoid the heat she pushed into him? She sent surge after surge of heat toward him and he twisted and turned his way out of every one of them. Meanwhile, he never stopped advancing toward her.

He was a breath away when she realized how he was evading her. Perhaps her power
only touched whatever she focused on. It would explain why she could control the tiniest element, like the flour particles in the air or the grips of the pirates’ weapons. She imagined Demyan four times wider and flung another wave of heat at him. He dodged to the left, but it wasn’t far enough. His body folded in half as the heat punched him into the far wall.

He bounded to his feet
, brushed off his pants, and grinned. “You are learning. You are much more powerful than I thought. It is a pity you haven’t had anyone teach you how to use your power correctly. I could educate you, Emmeline.”

“I don’t want to learn anything from you.” She drove more heat into him, flattening
him against the wall. His cheeks rippled back as if he were riding a race horse.

“I know how to k
eep someone from mastering you,” he said with a strained voice.

Emmeline’s concentration broke and her wall of heat crumbled. Demyan took advantage of her surprise and leapt on top of the
nearest fireplace.

“Liar.” Emmeline breathed, furious with herself for letting his lies distract her, no matter how badly she wanted them
to be true.

Demyan laughed as he climbed up to a high
er ledge. “I do not lie,” he said. “And I wasn’t lying when I said you’d have to kill me with your bare hands. I know more about your power than you do, Emmeline. You’re parlor tricks are not enough to stop me.”

E
nraged, Emmeline’s fists shook at her side. She wouldn’t let him get the better of her. Drawing in more heat, she used a portion of it to pull the couch from the wall. Plaster crumbled to the ground and a plume of dust floated into the air. Emmeline raised the couch to the top of the ceiling and then let it drop to the marble floor. Wood shattered out from underneath the leather covering, splintering to the four corners of the room. They were long, sharp, and just what she needed. She swept her arms in front of her and the splinters gathered into a mass of sharp points directed at Demyan.

He stood on the ledge, his arms folded.

“I’ve found my weapon, Demyan,” Emmeline said with a low voice. She pushed the splintered wood closer to his face.

He bowed, sweeping his hands to either side of him.

Emmeline pulled her hands back, ready to hurl them at him. Was she ready to do this? Was she ready to kill a man by her own choosing?

Demyan mu
ttered under his breath and the next thing she knew, she was flying through the air into the closed door. She hit the ground on her back and the splintered wood showered around her. Flipping over, she scrambled to her feet and her heart jumped.

Standing near the fire was the vanishing woman.

“Orinda,” Demyan said in a low voice. He jumped from the ledge and stood at the woman’s side. The fire surged behind them and Emmeline’s mouth went dry. How could someone else look so much like her? Unless she was an Incenaga too. But she thought she was the only one?

“You should learn not to hesitate, girl,” the woman sai
d. “It’ll get you killed.” She faced Demyan, her black gown swishing around her ankles as she turned. She held herself with elegance, her back straight, her chin held high. She commanded attention and Emmeline found herself a willing spectator. How could she not look? She had Emmeline’s face, her black hair, her fair skin. They were identical. And yet she knew Orinda was a thousand times more beautiful. Something about her was different. She seemed more formidable, more…powerful.

“That was too close
,” Orinda said to Demyan. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Demyan nodded once.

“Are you an Incenaga?” Emmeline asked, afraid to hope. Perhaps Orinda could teach her how to keep from being controlled.

Orinda
swiped her arm in front of her chest and Emmeline found herself pinned to the wall. She struggled against the heat’s invisible grip, but it held firm.

Orinda
laughed. “You are right, Demyan. She knows nothing of the Incenagas. Or her power.”

E
mmeline squirmed. The heat seemed to press harder the more she struggled. Her throat constricted. She looked up to see Demyan and Orinda watching her with an expectant look. Emmeline gritted her teeth. The heat pushed harder against her and so, rather than trying to push back, she pulled it inside her.

She dropped to the floor
. The heat was gone, or rather, it was inside her, fueling her.

“Well, look at that,” Orinda said, her eyes brightening.

“She is a fast learner,” Demyan said with a pleased smile.

“She
figured it out so quickly. She is perfect.”

“Tiergan hasn’t controlled her yet,” Demyan said. “She isn’t ready.”

Orinda moved closer, her steps so graceful she almost appeared to float. But like a viper, she snapped Emmeline’s cheeks between her thumb and forefinger and held her in her sights. Her silver eyes pierced through Emmeline’s.

“You must let him
own you, just for a little while,” Orinda said. “You are useless to me until then.”

Emmeline shook her head, confused. Why would an Incenaga
want a fellow witch to lose control?

Orinda
’s eyes hardened as they searched Emmeline’s face. “Have you been mastered before?”

Demyan spoke. “A Dolmertian claimed to have controlled her, but I was unable to confirm it
before he passed.”

Orinda
chuckled. “Did you lose your temper, Demyan?”

Demyan smirked.

Orinda pulled Emmeline closer and her eyes seemed to brighten with excitement. “Is that true? Have you already been mastered?”

Emmeline matched her stare, but said nothing.

Orinda released her and paced across the room. Emmeline threw herself at the door, turned the handle, and then found herself thrown against the fireplace mantle.

Orinda
smiled. “I have not dismissed you.”

Emmeline shoved a wall of heat toward
Orinda, but at the last moment, Orinda raised her hands and pushed it back. Their heat collided in the center of the room and Emmeline’s ears popped with pressure. She pulled back and tried again. Again and again Orinda deflected her blows.

Orinda laughed and Emmeline wanted to cry. She was throwing everything she had at Orinda and the woman didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. She fought like Demyan – swift, precise and with a confidence that would intimidate any foe.

Orinda raked her fingers in front of her and the leather hanging off the couch shredded. Strips of black swirled above them before snaking toward Emmeline. Emmeline shrieked and threw heat at the leather snakes, but there were too many. Hundreds of strips slithered around her, some shrinking against her heat, but most moving unhindered. It wasn’t long before several strips twisted around her arms and bound her wrists together.

“Just tell me what you want,” Emmeline
shouted as the leather snaked around her throat.

Orinda
turned to Demyan. “Find out if she has been mastered or not. We cannot proceed until then. Do you have a handle on this now?”

“Of course.”

Orinda glared at Emmeline and then vanished. The leather dropped to the floor, lifeless once again.

Demyan
turned his back to Emmeline and gazed at the fire.

“What just happened here?” Emm
eline said as she stepped out of the limp leather.

Demyan whipped around and his hand
s were at her throat in an instant. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, you will die. Understand?”

Emmeline nodded, still too stunned to speak.

Demyan pushed off the mantel and took hold of her wrists. “I believe I have been asked to take you to Cantil’s Pit.”

“What? You aren’t going to explain
who she is and how she just appeared out of thin air? I have a right to know!”

“You have no rights here.”

He pushed her out of the room and then towed her behind him. The temperature dropped as they descended to the lowest level of the castle. They entered a circular chamber where moisture clung to the walls and pooled on the floors, feeding the growth of mildew and moss. A few open windows allowed a small breeze into the room but nothing strong enough to blow away the smell of rot.

Demyan faced Emmeline. “Do you have any heat left in you?”

“No.”

Demyan’s jaw flexed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I used the last of it before she shredded the couch.”

Demyan snatched her chin up in his hand and after a long look in her eyes he released her. He turned to a large door and banged
a fist on the rotting wood. “Open! I have Cantil’s next offering.”

The door creaked open and a guard appeared
with a lantern held near his face.

Emmeline had just enough time to see the guard’s chin jerk back in surprise before
Demyan smashed the lantern against the stone wall.

“No flames,” he said
to the guard.

“
You can’t mean the girl?” the guard questioned in a raspy voice. He cleared his throat, but his voice remained as rough as before. “She is so fair. She does not belong here.”

Demyan
pushed the guard aside and pulled Emmeline into the dark chamber. “It is not your place to question me, guard.”

The odor of rotting flesh and
human feces slapped Emmeline in the face. The nauseating stench assaulted her gag reflex and she doubled over, retching at Demyan’s feet. He released her with a disgusted grunt.

Despite the filthy layer of grime,
Emmeline pressed her face against the cool stone floor. The nausea overwhelmed her, but before she could calm her stomach, Demyan wrenched her to her feet and pulled her deeper into the dungeon. The more she slipped or lost her footing, the more Demyan’s tight composure seemed to slip.

“Pick up your feet!” he
said.

Emmeline
shot him a glare although she doubted he could see it in the dark. She didn’t
want
to fall, especially considering how often her steps dipped into something soggy, or crunched against something unknown. But, Demyan seemed determined to dispose of her and get out in as little time as possible. Not once did his steps slow for her ineptitude.

They cam
e to an abrupt halt and Emmeline’s toes hung over a break in the floor. Several small windows dotted the top of the ceiling and a small amount of moonlight filtered into the circular room.

It didn’t take long for Emmeline’s eye
s to adjust to the low light and notice the dark circle on the floor in front of her.

“Welcome to Cantil’s Pit, my dear,” Demyan s
aid. “Do you have any questions before I toss you in?”

“Toss me in!
Are you mad?” Emmeline cried.

“I assure you, I am not mad.
It isn’t much of a fall. The height of two or three men, I would guess.”

Emmeline leaned forward
and squinted. She saw nothing but blackness.

“I’m not going
down there,” she said.

“You are and you have about three seconds before I
throw you in.”

Demyan shifted on his feet. It was the most agitated she’d ever seen him.
She searched the black hole. What was at the bottom? Water or dirt? Emptiness or living creatures? She held her breath to listen for movement. Nothing. She glanced at Demyan and found her voice stuck in her throat.

“
Your time is up,” he said.

Emmeline
’s stomach turned. “Wait! Who is Cantil?” She asked, finding her voice.

Demyan’s laughter filled the chamber.
“It’s not
who,
my dear. It is
what.
”

H
e pushed her shoulders and she tumbled into the darkness.

Erick had slept very little on the journey to Volarcus, and even less since Emmeline disappeared. Every time he closed his eyes, images of her haunted him. He couldn’t believe how much time he’d lost wallowing in self-pity. She could be anywhere.

Volarcus was a large, busy
city, but he navigated the streets with swift familiarity. Reaching the door of Joph, chief scribe of the city, he pounded the wood with a heavy fist.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” the old
scribe called from inside.

Several locks
clicked before the door pulled open to reveal a black haired, lanky man. He stepped forward with an easy smile, his eyes widening upon recognition.

“Your Grace!” he said with a bow, “For
what do I owe this great honor?”

“
Greetings Joph. Princess Emmeline has been abducted. I received a letter from your office written by the man I believe to have taken her.”

“Yes, yes, I
heard she was gone. Come in, Your Highness.”

Joph
opened the door wider and Erick stepped inside an office that smelled of ink and parchment. Shelves covered every wall with papers and books piled in neat stacks.

“About a month ago a messenger from your office carried a letter from an unknown ma
n to my palace,” Erick said. “The messenger claimed you did not know where it came from or who the author was. Do you remember this letter?”

“I know the letter you are referring to,”
Joph said. “I assure you, Your Highness, that I keep accurate records. I have gone over them several times, in fact. Nowhere did I see any notation of the letter being accepted by my office.”

“
May I see the records?”

Joph
pulled a large ledger from a low shelf and dropped it onto a desk with a thud. He thumbed through the thick parchment.

“Here,” he pointed.
“This is the day I found the letter and had it sent to you straightaway. I noted the messenger’s name who delivered it to you.”

Erick leaned over the ledger book.
Written in black ink was the name, Penne Cardoon, with the date and time, along with what he carried.

“Ah yes, Penne,”
Joph said. “He is one of those fellows who could do no wrong. Good man. He happened to be here the day I found it. He had plans to deliver something else near Dolmerti so he offered to take your letter as well.”

“D
oesn’t it seem coincidental that he happened to be here on the day you found the letter?” Erick asked.

Joph
shrugged. “Or my good luck.”

“
Where can I find Penne Cardoon?”

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since that day he
left for Dolmerti. But it is common for him to come and go from the city without too much notice. He could be anywhere, I suppose. That is the life of the messenger.”

“He does not reside here in Volarcus?”

“No, I don’t believe he does. If I remember right, and don’t trust this old man’s memory, but I believe he has family near the sea.”

“Which sea?”

“Let me think.”

Erick waited while the old man searched his memory.
He took a calming breath and a clock’s tick filled the room. Several minutes passed with the old man scratching his head and clicking his tongue, scrunching his nose and holding his chin.

“Mishel!”
Joph finally declared. “I’m almost positive he came from Mishel.”