To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (18 page)

“Knees,” she said. The pain spiked again and he struggled to his knees, gritting his teeth. “Good,” she said and knelt in front of him, still holding the mask. “I am a very patient woman.” The pain spiked again. He grunted and leaned forward, his hands balled into tight fists. “Still, we have spent enough time on this one task and it is time we move on.”

The pain continued and he cried out. As it disappeared, he was left panting and resting his forehead on the hard floor. He sat up, taking a few steadying breaths, and tried desperately to keep the image of Cecily in his mind. He could feel his heart thumping, his pulse pounding in his temples. The woman moved and he flinched, waiting for pain to strike again.

“You know what I can do to you if you refuse me,” she said. “I can leave you here, lying on the floor, unable to move. How long do you think it will take before you put the mask on? How many days of lying prostrate on the floor, in the black, with nothing but rats to keep you company? You see, I can leave you helpless,” she said. Daro’s body went limp, and he crumpled to the floor. “But I can allow you your senses.” She pushed him onto his back and ran her fingers up and down his chest. “You can feel this, but you can do nothing to stop me,” she said and traced her fingers lightly down his arm.

Daro’s breath quickened and he squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to move, but his body refused. Calm eluded him and panic began to rise. “No!” he shouted, and the word cut off as he realized he was able to speak.

The woman smiled and stroked him gently. “Ah, my darling, I can make everything better.” She rubbed his chest and let her fingers trail down his stomach. “You are an enticing specimen, I must say.” She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “There is so much we could discover together. This,” she said as she clutched her necklace, “allows me to do far more than cause you pain. This connects us. I can give you more pleasure than you ever dreamed.”

The pain fell away and a warm sensation spread through his body. He wanted to fight, to turn away, to take control, but he was helpless. His body tingled and he railed against the sensation. “No.”

“No?” she asked and leaned in so her mouth brushed his ear. His body twitched as the sensation heightened. “This could be a far more pleasant way to work together. Close your eyes, relax. You have been through so much.” She rubbed his chest again, then ran her hand down his stomach and nearly brushed his groin. Her head tilted into his field of vision, and she licked her lips and smiled. “My poor darling,” she said, caressing his face with her fingers, “let me make everything better.”

Daro ground his teeth together and fought against the growing arousal. “Stop this,” he said through his teeth.

“Stop? Oh, you don’t really want me to stop.” She ran her hand up his chest and curled her fingers, gripping his shirt and nearly scratching him. “I would much prefer to do things this way. Strictly speaking, I am not supposed to. But it can be our little secret, yes?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily. The sensation heightened, hovering between pleasure and pain. His eyes rolled back and he let out a low moan.

“Yes,” she said, her breath hot on his neck. “That’s it.”

His legs twitched and he curled his fingers. Something in the back of his mind told him he could move again, but the sensations washed over him with such strength, he couldn’t bring himself to. Sindre pressed her hands to his chest and leaned over him as she threw her leg over his hips and came to rest, straddling him. She ground into his groin, her body warm, and pleasure tingled through his limbs.

He took a shuddering breath and his eyes fluttered open. Sindre’s eyes were narrowed, her mouth curled in a smile. “Yes,” she said again, “this is what you want.”

He shook his head, fighting the arousal. “No,” he said, barely able to manage a whisper.

She leaned into his face, her mouth next to his ear. “Don’t fight it. You want this.” She nipped at his ear with her teeth and his body shuddered.

“No,” he said again, his voice rising a little. “No. I don’t want this. My wife…”

The woman laughed, a low purring sound. “You don’t have a wife. Not anymore. Not here. She’s dead.”

Daro’s eyes shot open and he grabbed Sindre’s wrists. He sat up as he pushed her onto the ground. He squeezed her wrists and held her down on the floor as he spoke through gritted teeth. “My wife is not dead.”

“Interesting.” Her eyes were bright and she showed no fear. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Dead or alive, you have no wife here. You only have me.”

“Damn you,” he growled. “Damn all of you.”

“You will let me go.”

Daro gripped her wrists tighter until pain exploded through him. It knocked him backward and sent him reeling to the floor. He called out, unable to check himself, his will nearly exhausted. He beat his fists against the floor as the agony drove through him, pulsing from his back into his limbs.

As the pain retreated he heaved his tired body up to rest on his knees. Sweat trickled down his back. The woman held the mask out to him again.

“Put it on.”

Daro looked up at her through the hair falling across his face. “No.”

The pain knocked him over again and he writhed on the floor. He gasped for breath as the sensation abruptly changed to pleasure. He curled onto his side and fought the betrayal of his body. She lashed pain at him again, and the sensation hit him like the crack of a whip. His body burned and he cried out as the heat built in his groin. Arousal washed over him and she struck him with pain, the sensations mingling, making his body shudder. He lay on his back, unable to think. “Please,” he said, “stop this.”

The pain heightened and he arched his back, roaring with the intensity of it. As suddenly as they had begun, the sensations disappeared and he lay there, his chest heaving.

“I can continue as long as necessary,” she said, her voice casual. “Or you can cooperate and we can move on.”

Daro ignored her and steeled himself for her next attack. She hit him with pain again and he rolled to his side, grunting. The pain vanished quickly. “Perhaps you are right about one thing,” she said in a low voice. “Your wife may still be alive. But believe me when I tell you she will not be for long.”

With a flash of anger, he reached out to grab her throat Agony pierced through him before he could connect, and he fell backward, yelling in rage.

The pain dulled and he turned onto his side. She leaned in close. “But perhaps you can still do something about that. I can see to it that she is not harmed. But only if you cooperate with me.”

His body ached and he was terrified she would leave him paralyzed again. He knew he could not trust her, but his fear for Cecily grew. Whoever these people were, they had orchestrated an attack and succeeded. They had him and he could see no way out, not while he wore the stone implant. Visions of his wife coming to his rescue faded, replaced by an image of her lying on the ground, blood trickling from her mouth. They had nearly killed her once; he had little doubt they could do it again.

“How can you protect her? And why should I believe you?” he said, his voice hoarse from yelling.

“You are an important subject and it is my task to ensure your cooperation. The sooner you are made ready, the more my work is appreciated.” She brushed his hair away from his face. “The men who brought you here take orders from me. I can ensure they leave your wife alone, as long as you continue to comply.”

He looked up at Sindre, her strange eyes intent. “Promise me,” he said. “Promise me she will not be harmed.”

One side of the woman’s mouth curled in a smile and she held out the mask. “You have my word.”

Daro reached out, took the mask, and pulled the slick fabric over his head.

18. BLACK MASKS

The wind picked up and tugged at Cecily’s cloak. She pulled it tight around her shoulders and clutched the clasp in one hand. It was midday, but the sun was hidden behind low-hanging clouds. It was unseasonably cold, even for autumn, the crisp air tingling against her skin. She wandered past the crowded market near the Life Tree and circled wide so she wouldn’t come within sight of the beautiful Imaran sculpture. It reminded her too much of Daro.

The days drifted by and none of the leads they followed turned up any clues. Callum tracked down families of missing men and women, but none of them could shed any light on Daro’s disappearance. They found no patterns, no indications of why he may have been taken, or where.

It was a long walk from the market to the Boar’s Head, but she welcomed the reprieve despite the chill air. She veered west to take the Lyceum Span across the river. Each of the three spans were unique. The westernmost, and most heavily traveled, was the Merchant Span. It was wide enough for two carriages or wagons to pass, leaving room to spare on each side. The walls were waist high and made of thick stone. The entire structure felt immovable, even at the center, high above the wide water below.

The eastern span was known as the Royal Span, named for its proximity to the palace and the exclusivity of its use. Only bearers of a royal seal could use the Royal Span. It was narrow and glimmering white, the delicate walls carved in detailed relief, depicting the first kings of Halthas.

Despite the fact that it was open to anyone, the center span was the least used of the three. Known as the Lyceum Span, its shiny black surface gleamed like ice and there were no walls to prevent a fall. Youths often dared each other to cross the Lyceum Span, goading each other closer to the sheer drop off the side. Most travelers who chose the Lyceum Span were careful to stay close to the middle as they crossed.

Cecily approached the Lyceum Span and walked onto the shining black tiles without hesitation. She loved the Lyceum Span and had crossed it often when she’d still lived in the city. No one else was on the north side of the bridge, so she slowed and wandered out onto the span with measured steps. The wind brushed her hair from her face, and the cold air smelled fresh. She crept as close to the edge as she dared, to peek out over the side to the river far below. There had been a time when she would have walked all the way to the edge and sat, her legs dangling over the side. She had a greater sense of her own mortality now and shook her head at the foolish girl she had once been.

A light drizzle began to fall as Cecily made her way through the southern city toward her inn. The streets were crowded, a slew of people walking in either direction, others milling about in doorways or stopping to buy fresh food from the open tents and carts placed haphazardly on street corners. The smell of roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the scents of leather and horses.

She looked up and a man dressed in black caught her eye. He walked toward her, his head buried in a deep cowl, but his eyes shone from inside, unnaturally bright. Her breath caught in her throat. She slowed and peered toward him. She couldn’t be sure, but his face appeared to be covered in a black mask. But it was his eyes, multicolored and shining with an abnormal brightness, that made her adrenaline surge. They looked like the eyes of the man who had taken Daro.

She stepped toward him and his strange eyes widened as he looked at her. He brushed past, hurried his step through the crowd, and crossed to the other side of the street. She whipped her head around and turned to follow, trying to nudge her way past the throng of people. He turned a corner and she pushed people out of her way, ignoring their protests. She turned the corner and caught another glimpse of him. He ducked through the crowd and turned down another side street.

She opened her Awareness and zeroed in on his moving form. The outlines of people pressed at her, an overwhelming shock of movement. It was difficult to track a single person in the throng of bodies, but she honed her Awareness in front of her to sharpen the images and kept the man within her range.

She followed, moving as fast as the crowd would allow, as questions floated through her mind. Was he as dangerous as the ones who had attacked them? Had she imagined the eyes? What would she do if she caught him? She pushed the questions away. This man might know something about Daro.

She turned down the side street, not much more than a narrow alley with walls that drew close together. Cecily had to turn to squeeze out the other side. The street beyond was bustling with people, but she kept her mind on her target and felt him dart in and out of the crowd. A flash of black caught her eye and she dashed into the street after him.

Someone bumped into her, knocking into her shoulder. He shouted something unintelligible as she pushed past him, his voice quickly lost in the din of the crowded street. Her target flashed a quick glance over his shoulder before ducking into another alley.

She chased after him but couldn’t close the distance in the crowd. She held her Awareness on him and felt his movements as he tried to lose her. He pushed onward, moving in and out of the groups of people traveling down the street. He spared another glance behind and made an abrupt turn. Cecily darted to the side, trying to avoid the crowd by hugging the sides of the buildings. A door flew open in front of her, and a woman carrying a basket emerged. Cecily nearly slammed into the door. She jumped to the side and spun around as she narrowly avoided crashing into the woman.