Читать книгу The Darkest Touch - Gena Showalter - Страница 11
ОглавлениеKEELEY WASN’T SURE how many days or weeks had passed since the warrior had offered his still-beating heart as a macabre gift the darkest parts of her had actually appreciated. All she knew was that he’d spent the next however long moaning in agony and, if she had to guess, coughing up pieces of his lungs.
Sickened by his own demon? Deserved.
And while his suffering had dulled the sharpest edges of her rage, she still planned to kill him. I won’t forget. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.
“It’s the right thing to do. Don’t you agree, Wilson?” she asked the rock that liked to watch her every move.
He remained silent, always silent. Cold-shoulder treatment was his specialty.
She wasn’t upset by his attitude. They’d never really gotten along.
“I had plans to free Mari, you know. I only needed time. Just another few weeks, in fact.” Or months. Maybe years. Time had ceased to exist. But Mari hadn’t cared about herself—she’d cared only about Keeley.
The girl had known what Keeley was doing to herself day after day. Well, maybe known wasn’t the right word. She’d suspected. And she had hated the thought of Keeley in any kind of pain. So Mari, sweet Mari, had decided to act, to take Cronus up on his suicidal offer and procure Keeley’s release the only way she could. Despite Keeley’s protests.
“Cronus didn’t even keep up his end of the bargain,” she explained to Wilson. Mari had died upholding hers, and yet Keeley had not been freed.
Hatred burrowed deep inside her, taking root in the darkness of her soul and feeding on the rich soil of her bitterness. So much to do. First she would take care of Torin. Then she would do to the king of the Titans what she’d once done to Prometheus, who wasn’t the good guy everyone thought. He hadn’t blessed the world with fire. How laughable. But he had tried to engulf every inch of it in flames.
“But I punished him, didn’t I?” She laughed with maniacal glee. “I cut out his liver every time it regenerated and fed it to a flock of birds.” Day after day...year after year.
Zeus, of course, had taken credit for the deed. But not this time.
I am the Red Queen. The entire world will learn of me at long last—and fear.
“Soon,” she said.
Wilson might have snorted.
“You’ll see.” Keeley huddled in the corner of her cell, stabbing the lower part of her arm with the rock she’d sharpened into a shiv. Blood poured from the throbbing wound, and spiderwebs of black drifted through her vision. Still she pressed on, cutting harder, going deeper.
Experienced far worse than this.
Like losing Mari...the only ray of sunshine in a life as black as pitch.
“Mari always offered comfort rather than censure. Not once did she say a cruel word to me.” Keeley pointed the bloody shiv at Wilson, adding, “But you...oh, you. Don’t even think about denying the fact that the only thing you’ve ever given me is grief.”
The bastard smirked at her.
“You have always mocked me, but she constantly fed me. I can’t count the number of rodents she tossed to me.” How many people shared so selflessly, giving away the only meal they were likely to find, knowing they would eventually starve? None!
Was it any wonder a literal bond had formed between them, tying them together?
But then, such bonds were the lifeblood of Keeley’s people, the Curators. Or, as other races liked to call them, the Parasites. The bonds were imperceptible to the naked eye and, like mystical tentacles, latched on to others with or without approval to syphon strength...and whatever else the person on the other end had to offer.
The more bonds Keeley procured, the more power she wielded and the more control she had over that power. But she had to be careful. Bonds worked both ways. She took, but she also gave.
It was never fun to have her own strength used against her.
“But the bond failed to help Mari, didn’t it.”And now it couldn’t.
Keeley’s rage returned and redoubled. She screeched, dropping the shiv. Captivity had long since whittled away her humanity, and she suspected that had never been more apparent as she stood and ripped hunks of rock from the walls, until nothing remained of her fingernails. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
Royalty doesn’t cry.
Royalty. Doesn’t. Cry.
That’s right. Tears were a weakness she could not afford. She wiped at her eyes, her arms shaking. Her newest wound protested, bleeding more profusely. Inhale...exhale.
Currently Keeley had only one remaining bond. To the land around her. It would have to be enough for everything she had planned.
She sank next to Wilson, saying, “I’ll strengthen. I’ll succeed.”
Will you? he seemed to ask.
She raised her chin. “No one steals from me and lives to tell the tale.”
She’d had so few things worth treasuring. A kingdom—eventually everyone in it had rejected her. A gorgeous fiancé—until he lied to her and betrayed her. And then Mari, who’d never hurt her...
Now gone. Forever.
A sob burst free.
Royalty doesn’t cry. Royalty endures.
“I’m just a girl.” The words razed her throat, making her feel like she’d swallowed acid. “A girl without her friend.”
Torin gave an agonized groan. “Sorry. So sorry.”
Healed already? Too soon! “Your apologies will never be good enough.” She swiped out her hand, sending more debris into his cell. Wilson, too, rolled out of her cage.
Screaming, “Wilson!” she frantically chased after him. He made it into the hallway—where he stayed put, once again staring at her, forever out of reach.
“Fine,” she told him, her chin quivering. “Be that way. You’re nothing without me. I never really liked you anyway.”
“Keeley?” Torin asked.
Rejected by a rock. “Stay out of this, warrior. It’s between Wilson and me.” Too agitated to sit, she paced in the center of her cell. Out of sight, out of mind.
At least in theory. I’m alone. Again.
“Been here centuries,” she muttered to herself. “Wilson stayed with me through it all. Even when I was shackled to the wall.” With no weapon, she’d had to gnaw through her wrists to free her arms, and then, after her hands had grown back, she’d had to sharpen rocks and bone into blades and hack off her feet to free her legs. “And he abandons me now? He’s as much a bastard as Cronus.”
Well, he would miss the big finale. She would finish the painstaking process of cutting the brimstone scars out of her skin...and everything would go boom.
The scars had a name...a name...wards! Yes. That’s what her people called them.
The wards! Though it took several tries, her fingers nearly too swollen to close around the shiv’s handle, she managed to pick up the weapon.
“Stupid wards and stupid brimstone,” she grumbled. Somehow they were the Kryptonite of her entire race. Basically, Keeley’s worst nightmare.
Running the sulfuric rocks over spirit or flesh would scar even an immortal, but on her, those scars were accompanied by weakness. If she had enough of them, they would totally negate her power. Even as immense as it was.
Brought so low by so little.
She couldn’t punish Torin and Cronus properly until every single one of her wards had been removed. And they had to be punished.
Considering her flesh sometimes wove back together—with the scars still intact—it was meticulous, frustrating work. Everything always depended on the condition of her body. Well-fed, she could create brand-new cells. Starved, she merely regenerated the old ones.
Exactly why I saved every bug to pass through my cell these past few weeks. Dead beetles crawling. Had a big breakfast just this morning.
Once, the wards had covered every inch of her. To remove them from her back, she’d had to treat the walls like scratch pads from hell and rub, rub, rub. Her face, torso and legs had been easier, though no less excruciating. All she had left were a few tiny scars on her arm...and one that had regenerated again and again.
Not this time.
“I truly am sorry,” Torin said.
She would have found the throaty, masculine tenor of his voice thrilling if she hadn’t hated him so much. Was his remorse even genuine?
“At least you still have Wilson,” he added. “Whoever he is.”
“My pet rock. We recently parted ways.”
“Oh. I’m...uh, sorry about that, too.”
“Don’t be. It was a mutual decision.”
A pause. Then, “I’m still sorry.”
“Just...save your breath, as it will soon be your last.” Her hand tightened on the shiv. What was done was done and could never be undone. Never, never, never. “I made the mistake of pardoning someone who wronged me once before.” The man she’d loved and had planned to marry. “I’ve had to live with the consequences ever since.”
Although...she should probably be grateful to Hades. Before she’d met him, she’d had very little control of her abilities. With a single burst of power, she’d slaughtered more than half of her people—in less than a second.
The rest of her people had sought revenge.
Hades swooped to the rescue, carrying her to the underworld, his home. He’d taught her everything she needed to know to not only survive but thrive. He’d even praised her when she’d leveled his palace and he’d had to build a new one. That’s my good, fearsome girl.
Keeley rammed the shiv so deep she hit bone.
“I know you crave vengeance,” Torin said, his voice a life raft of calm in the sea of her mounting anger, “but even if we get out of here, you won’t be able to claim it. You can’t touch me or you will sicken.”
He sounded remorseful about that, too.
A lie, surely.
“Killing you isn’t the only way to achieve vengeance, warrior.”
A pause crackling with tension. “What are you saying?”
“I told you I had heard of you, yes?” Galen, the keeper of Jealousy and False Hope, was one of the greatest enemies of the Lords of the Underworld...and he was a prisoner here. Had been for months. They’d spent the first few weeks of their association exchanging information and would have continued to do so if he hadn’t deteriorated from illness and hunger and gone radio silent.
Which was unfortunate. Knowledge was more precious than gold, and she always craved more. The very reason I once set up a network of spies stretching from one corner of the world to another. She knew things even the Titans and Greeks didn’t know. She just had to remember them.
“You love your friends,” she said. “Provide for them. Protect them.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
As a former royal soldier for the Greeks, who made Roman gladiators look like marshmallows, he had to know where she was going with this. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one, but...I can kill them.”
The bars of his cage rattled.
Direct hit.
“You won’t go near them,” he bellowed. Either he’d returned to full strength, or his mounting rage now drove him. “They’ve done nothing to you.”
“Like Mari had done nothing to you?”
“You weren’t there. You don’t know how things went down. You’re blaming me for an accident.”
“We both know you blame yourself. Why shouldn’t I?”
A moment passed, and when next he spoke, he was cool and collected once more, his tone actually languid. “Don’t you go getting all psychoanalytical on me, princess. I blame myself, yes. You can blame me, too. But take it out on me, not anyone else.”
Though he couldn’t see her, she raised her chin. “I am a queen. Call me ‘princess’ again and I will castrate you before I kill you.” For many years, castration had been her preferred method of punishment. The secret was in the turn of the wrist.
He muttered, “You should be grateful princess is all I’m calling you.”
“And you should know I will do whatever I deem fitting to whomever I deem deserving.”
“Your attitude makes me think you’re still unclear about the huge mistake you’re making.” He’d moved from calm to charm, but not even that dulled the sharp-edged steel accompanying his every word. “You may or may not be the Red Queen immortals fear, but I am a warrior with whom one does not screw. On the field of battle, I enjoy the feel of a blade slicing through my opponent. I like the scent of blood. It invigorates me. I even think screams of pain make a beautiful soundtrack while I’m working out.”
In their world, strength mattered. And the way he’d just described himself...
Sexy.
No, not sexy!
“Yawn,” was all she allowed herself to say.
“Yawn?” The bars rattled much harder. “Did you just yawn me?”
“Just so you know, I’ve eaten warriors like you for breakfast.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Well, did you spit or swallow? Never mind. Don’t answer. Your sexual kinkiness has no bearing on this situation. I’d appreciate it if you’d focus.”
Heat flamed her cheeks. “I wasn’t talking about that!”
“Hey, I’m not here to judge. I’m here because I’d hoped to—” He stopped, a palpable sense of amazement thickening air that never quite lost the stench of unwashed bodies and filth.
What was going on? “You hoped to...what? Help Mari? Well, too late. You didn’t. She’s gone, and—” Keeley’s chin quaked so violently she had trouble getting out her next words. “And someone has to pay. Several someones.”
“Trust me. I’m—” click... “—paying.” The groan of rusty hinges accompanied the last word. Then...pounding footsteps sounded?
She frowned, confused. Had he just—
Escaped!
Keeley jumped to her feet, the shiv falling from her hand. Torin stood in front of her cell, a backpack hanging from his shoulder. Oh...my. He was everything a girl could want—and more. Mercenary-tall and cold-blooded-killer honed. My favorite. My weakness.
She’d gone centuries without seeing another person...without touching one. Why did Torin have to be so magnificent? His hair was snow-white, but his brows and lashes were night-dark, and the contrast was a sensuous delight. But, oh, his eyes...they were his most startling feature. They were the rarest of emeralds, intertwined with different shades of green, all without a single flaw.
Nerve endings she’d thought long deadened stirred to life and tingled. Moisture flooded her mouth. The blood in her veins turned molten.
Close the distance...touch him...
Definitely not...well, maybe. There was a rip in the collar of his shirt, causing the material to gape over a massive, muscular chest completely healed from his impromptu self-surgery. Taste...
“How did you escape an inescapable prison?” she demanded. I’m deprived. That’s all. An aardvark would have had this effect on her.
“A secret I forgot,” he replied.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.” His gaze raked over her, the intensity of it staggering—aggression in its purest form. His pupils dilated, black quickly overshadowing green. The most exquisite eclipse. One caused by...lust? Did this bad boy find her attractive despite her oddities?
The blood in her veins utterly boiled with desire.
What about his crime?
The boil tapered to a simmer. “You had best run while you can, warrior.”
“Or what, princess?”
“I’ll hurt you worse.”
He flicked his tongue over an incisor. Struggling for the tranquility he’d seemed to display so easily before? “I will warn you once. Only once. Never again threaten my friends. You do and I’ll end you. I won’t want to, and I’ll even hate myself afterward, but I will do it. Do you understand?”
Oh, yes. She understood. “You’re even more of a protector than I’d realized.”
For a moment, she experienced a keen jealousy directed at his friends. They were loved by this man wholeheartedly, nothing held back. With Mari gone—razors in my chest, slashing at me—there was no one in the world who would defend Keeley. Not that she needed defending. I am, and will forever be, a powder keg without equal. But the gesture would have been welcome.
He rattled the bars. “I said, do you understand me?”
So fierce...
She breathed in deeply; the leather and musk of his scent should have been a welcome reprieve from aeons of rank, but the goose bumps breaking out over her arms aggravated her. If he’d been any other man, she would have called the reaction animal attraction. But he wasn’t. And if she’d possessed a weaker will, she would have given in to her craving and moved closer. She would have remembered how it felt to be a woman rather than a prisoner.
But she was the Red Queen and she didn’t possess a weaker will.
She planted her feet and remained in place. The male disturbed her. Noted. There was no reason to make the situation worse by flirting with temptation.
Such beautiful temptation.
Nothing would stop her from avenging Mari.
“Keeley,” he prompted. “Pay attention to me.”
Orders? “Tell me what to do again and I will rip out your spine through your mouth.”
He didn’t even blink. “That’s harder to do than you probably realize.”
“Oh, I know. It takes experience—which I have. In spades.”
Again, not a blink. “Hubris is never a good look.”
“I’m not wearing hubris. I’m wearing truth.” Calm. “Here is what I understand, warrior. Once I vowed to hurt anyone who hurt me, and I never lie. Especially to myself.” She raised her chin, knowing she was the picture of stubborn female. “You, Torin, have hurt me.”
He sighed with dejection, and yet excitement glowed in his eyes. The juxtaposition confused her. “So we are to war?” he asked.
She offered him a cold smile. “We’re already warring, warrior.”
“In that case, I would be wise to kill you now.”
“Please. Try it.” He’d have to open her door the same way he’d opened his own...something she’d attempted a thousand times. How did he do what I could not?
He frowned at her. “You actually think a woman like you can defeat me?”
A woman like her? What did that mean?
Beads of anger rolled through her. “I’ve taken down bigger and better than you.”
“Bigger maybe, but better? Doubtful, considering there is no one better.”
Hubris certainly looked good on him. “Have you heard of Typhon, the supposed father of all monstrosities? Half dragon, half snake. All attitude. Zeus likes to brag about defeating him, but I am the one who ripped him into a thousand pieces and stuffed him under a mountain. And do you know why? Because he frowned when I walked past him.”
“Yawn,” Torin said.
Her spine went rigid. “You have underestimated your opponent. A fatal mistake many before you have made. You could ask them about the experience...but they are dead.”
His gaze shifted between the lock on the door and the wound on her arm. Finally he said, “You’re mourning the loss of your friend. I’m going to give you a pass. This time. I won’t give you another.”
Aw, did the big bad warrior think he was being nice? “You have a choice. Stay in this realm or leave. One day soonish I will topple this entire prison. The moment I do, I will come for you. If you have stayed, we will conclude our business here in this realm. You have my word. If not, I will hunt your friends and start with them.”
He punched one of the bars.
Temper, temper.
A shiver stole through her.
“You can’t win against me, Keys. Why put yourself through a battle?”
She disregarded his familiarity, saying, “I suggest you use your remaining time alive setting traps for me.” No matter what he did, he would lose. But the effort might make him feel better about the defeat to come. Or not. Probably not.
His eyes narrowed. “Very well. Until we meet again...your majesty.” With a final glare that, shockingly, rendered her breathless, he left the dungeon.
* * *
KEELEY WORKED AT a fiendish pace, cutting and carving at the final brimstone scar. This is for you, Mari.
She would have finished already, but her mind had constantly drifted to Torin....
Hate him!
And yet she couldn’t stop wondering if his white-blond locks were as soft as they appeared. Or if his wicked lips would be firm against hers or soft. Or if his bronzed skin would burn oh, so good, and the hard muscles beneath clench every time she touched him.
A full-body shiver overtook her. Bad Keeley. Bad! But after everything she’d suffered, she deserved pleasure. And really, Torin owed her a little—
No way. Not going there.
Torin was forever off-limits, no matter how desperate she happened to be. He was pretty, there was no denying that, but she had to keep things in perspective. Look at Hades. A few inches taller than Torin, with a strength she’d never seen on another. His black hair was never not sexily mussed, and his midnight eyes always promised a wild carnal indulgence he was perfectly equipped to deliver. And yet Hades was just as likely to peel the skin from his bed partner as her clothing.
Keeley, the queen who had never known affection, had been helpless against his appeal. She’d fallen for him. Hard. A sizzling romance had bloomed, spanning centuries.
“You are so powerful, pet,” he’d announced one day. “But that power is unstable. You could accidentally hurt me...unless we ward you and mute the worst of your abilities. Only then will I be safe from you. And I want to be safe. I want to spend my eternity with you. Don’t you want that, too?”
She had loved him, and she’d also agreed with him. Her powers had been unstable. Bad things happened every time her emotions had gotten the better of her—whatever the season, the weather had responded in kind. Tsunamis. Hurricanes. Polar vortexes. Tornados. Wildfires. If ever she’d harmed the male she was to wed, she would have wanted to die.
When she’d pointed out he could be safe from her power by scarring himself with brimstone, negating her power over him specifically, he’d pointed out that his people would never be safe, and she couldn’t expect everyone under his command to go to such lengths, now could she?
So reasonable.
Such a manipulator.
Hades, the fiercest warrior in existence, the male with hundreds of demon armies at his command and quite literally the ex from hell, had feared her power had become greater than his own, nothing more and nothing less. He simply hadn’t been able to bear it.
But the scars weren’t even the worst of his crimes. After he’d weakened her, he’d sold her to Cronus—for a barrel of whiskey.
There are two things I’ll never forget. The crimes committed against me—and my power. And Hades is going to pay so hard. She planned to cut off his head and scoop out his brain. I’m thinking pumpkin innards at Halloween. She would set up a booth in the lowest level of the skies and allow everyone he’d ever wronged to come and use his skull as a toilet.
In a word: magical.
Keeley hissed as the shiv came out the other side of her arm. Unsteady, she set the weapon aside and lifted the newly shaved hunk of branded skin. As blood leaked to the floor, she studied her arm in the light. Would this last scar return?
She waited, one minute ticking into another. Her skin wove back together—without scarring! She’d...done it? Succeeded?
It couldn’t be....
She pressed a hand to her chest where her heart hammered erratically. I’m me again? Centuries of work, finally finished? She lumbered to her feet, expecting a sudden surge of power to hit her any...second....but there was nothing.
Miss it so much.
She also expected an overwhelming sense of triumph but...she didn’t feel that, either. Resolve filled her up, leaving no room for anything else. There was so much more for her to do. Kill Torin. Kill Cronus. Kill Hades.
Mourn Mari.
She stuffed the hunk of skin she’d just removed into the pocket of what remained of her gown. My trophy. She would have to be careful not to touch it since the brimstone would weaken her upon contact. But she also couldn’t discard it and allow just anyone to find it and perhaps use it against her.
She walked to the bars of her cell, each step more confident than the last, her mind clearer. She attempted to push out the barest stream of power—the metal widened instantly.
I really am me again. Giddy anticipation replaced her resolve, and without pausing in her steps, she picked up Wilson.
“If you had stayed with me,” she told him, “I would have protected you. Now? Forget about it.” With a squeeze, she turned him to dust and focused on Mari’s cell. Another stream of power caused those bars to widen, as well.
The enclosure was the same size as Keeley’s, the walls smoother and unmarked by blood. In the center was a coffin-sized mound of dirt.
Anger shot through her—and as it did, bolts of lightning exploded from her pores, crackling all around her. Yes! This! A second later, she was yanked off her feet by a gust of wind, her skin sizzling deliciously and her blood fizzing as she hovered in the air.
The entire dungeon began to shake, dust and debris raining from the ceiling. All too soon, the havoc was too much for the aged walls to bear. They crumbled, one by one, the bars of the door bending, then crumpling, the ceiling cracking, then falling.
Not a single piece of rock or concrete dared brush against her.
Calm...steady...don’t want to destroy the entire realm.
Not yet anyway.
Deep breath in...out.... The shaking slowly faded, then stopped, the dust gradually clearing. Keeley floated down, down, the dungeon nothing but a heap around her. She landed on a boulder, wind whipping at her hair.
Closing her eyes, she basked in her first taste of freedom in forever. The sun peeked out from behind a wall of clouds, stroking her face despite the winter chill. Glorious.
The snap of a twig echoed, and she stiffened, scanning the forest surrounding her. Blackened trees, scorched ground. Wafts of smoke and ash.
Welcome to the Realm of Wailing Tears, where happiness comes to die.
When it rained without the aid of Keeley’s emotions, it rained, waterlogging the entire realm. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d nearly drowned inside her cell.
Once the home of Cronus, currently the home of the Unspoken Ones, a race of creatures so bloodthirsty and vile hardly anyone dared speak their name.
And yet the Unspoken Ones fear speaking my name.
She grinned, and knew anyone looking on would think she was pure evil. They would be correct.
Poor Torin.
She’d made sure he would do anything to remain behind, if only to end her to save his friends from her crazy. Which meant he was out there somewhere, waiting.
Anticipation...
Can’t get excited. This was business.
Bloody, bloody business.
An idea formed. Soon, Hades would send his minions after her. Every few weeks, they arrived to check on her and ensure she remained a prisoner. Watching them munch on Torin could be fun. He would experience writhing agony, and they would sicken. Then she could remove each of their heads.
The ideal end to so many of her enemies. It’s decided.
Okay. There was no help for it. I’m excited.
