Read Dying Dreams (Book 1 of Dying Dreams Trilogy) Online
Authors: Katharine Sadler
Tags: #Book 1 of the Dying Dreams Series
Liza’s trigger finger itched. She wanted so badly to shoot Arty and, if she’d been alone, she would have done it and damn the consequences. If she timed it well enough, she could fire, leap onto his boat and hurt him as he died. But she couldn’t risk Sloane and the redcaps getting hurt because of her bloodlust.
Another boatful of pirates sailed up next to Arty’s boat and a third appeared on the other side of the sea beast.
“Wilhemet,” Arty said. “Why don’t you put them down so we can all talk? I do believe that’s what they called me here for.”
The beast huffed and slowly lowered the boat back to the sea. He slipped under the water and, when he rose again, a few feet away, he watched them with red eyes and snarls that repeated like the purrs of a happy cat.
Arty studied Liza for a long moment. “Leo told me of your prediction, Liza. I knew you’d come into your full powers, but I had no idea you’d be so strong.”
“Strong enough that you should fear me,” Liza said, but her voice shook, betraying her own fear at facing down the man who tortured her.
“I did a bit of research, after you were taken from me,” Arty said, looking not the least bit afraid. “Did you know your father is a death dealer?”
Liza wanted to know what he meant, but she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of thinking she cared that he knew something about her father she didn’t. She kept her expression blank and glared. She wanted to rip Arty limb from limb, but the more important goal was to get him to admit, while Sloane recorded it with a wire, that he was planning to turn the human world into a fairy realm, ruled by twisted fae like Arty. And she could sense just how twisted he was, the darkness and the death surrounding him thicker on him than it was on the pirates she’d killed. She wished she had the power to make him experience the death and pain he’d caused from the victims’ perspective.
“You don’t need to keep glaring at me,” Arty said. “You don’t think you carry death smut, yourself? How do you know I didn’t kill them all in self-defense or for some greater good?”
“Like turning my world into Fairy?”
“You belong in fairy, princess. You’d be free to be a true warrior there and have all the power and prestige you could handle. You should be by my side, fighting with me.”
“So you can use me? Torture me until I go insane?” Arty winced, but he didn’t back down.
“I needed answers, and I got them. I never tortured you,” he said. “And now that I know about your death dealer heritage, you will be even more useful to me. Rice and SPA won’t allow you to be who you’re meant to be, but I will.”
Liza shuddered. She wanted Arty so bad she could taste it. She wanted him laid out at her feet and hurting because of her. Sloane didn’t move or speak, he was letting her decide how this went down and she couldn’t be more grateful to him. He might be willing to throw away his job for her, but she couldn’t let that happen. “Will you continue trying to make earth into another fairy? Will you use the rocks to make the humans of earth slaves to those with magical abilities?”
Arty laughed. “And what will you do if that is my plan? You think you can best me? You think you can put me in a human prison? You think you can stop me before I find your mother?”
Liza’s gun hand twitched. She wanted to raise it and be done with that conversation. The idea of seeing him dead sang to her like a sweet lullaby, and she saw no reason why she shouldn’t do it. Except that she and Sloane would be on the run for the rest of their lives. Dangerous, rogue fae who SPA would not allow to live.
Arty chuckled. “I see the indecision on your face, Liza. You want to shoot me so, so badly, and I almost hope you will try. Come now, wouldn’t it make you feel better to shoot me?”
Liza’s hand and gun rose without conscious thought and she aimed at Arty, a desire to hurt him coursing through her. He had killed people, he deserved to die. Her hand shook as she fought the impulse. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t just want to shoot him, she wanted to cause him the most possible pain. She wanted to taste his blood. As the thought crossed her mind, her stomach roiled, and she dropped the gun to the deck with a clatter.
“Ah, stronger than your father, then. He would not have wasted such an opportunity, but you are young, yet.”
Sloane put a hand on her back, and she shook him off. She wouldn’t be weak in front of Arty, not ever again. She forced herself to stand and met Sloane’s eyes, a question in her own.
“You do whatever you need to do,” he said. “I’ll stand with you.”
The sincerity in his voice almost broke her heart. Who was she that he could give up his life as he knew it for her? Something whizzed between them and Liza somehow knew it had been a bullet. She whipped her head around in time to see Arty backhand a pirate and send him flying into the water with a splash. The pirate sank beneath the surface without a sound.
“As entertaining as this is,” Arty said. “I am a busy man. What have you decided? Will you kill me or arrest me?”
Liza was tired of talking, it was time to finish it. On top of that, she heard the back-up arriving. While a confession would have been ideal, they’d have to hope what they did have would be enough. Arty’s face blanched as he heard more boats coming. He raised his hand, a gun in it, and pointed it at Sloane.
“You’d quickly forget your moral qualms with him out of the picture,” Arty said.
“My morals are the only thing keeping you alive,” Liza said, her voice raspy with fear and anger, her heart in her throat. “If you kill him, I kill you. I will never work for you again.”
“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” Arty said, and she saw his finger move on the trigger of his gun. Time slowed but Liza discovered she could move quickly. She fired off a shot at Arty and dove for Sloane the moment the bullet left her gun. She knocked Sloane to the ground and felt pain slice through her right bicep as they fell.
Above and behind her, she heard the redcaps hooting and hollering, more guns firing, and metal against metal. She got to her knees, and looked for Arty, but he was gone. She stood and spun around, but saw him nowhere. She did, however, come face to face with Sloane, his face red and his jaw twitching. He grabbed her injured arm, studied her shoulder, and grunted. “What the hell do you think you were—?”
Luckily, the pirates took that moment to board the boat. One of them grabbed Liza by the neck and started pulling her backward. Sloane stepped behind them and, moments later, she was free. She turned around to see the pirate on the ground, his neck broken. She looked at Sloane, surprised he had killed the guy, but Sloane was already trading blows with another pirate and she was distracted by the blinding pain of being pulled backward by her hair.
In a move she never would have guessed she could perform, she dropped to her knees, spun as much as the hold on her hair would allow and swung her right leg out in a low kick that caught her attacker in the ankles and brought her to her knees. The woman released Liza’s hair as she fell and Liza leapt up and kicked her in the face. She’d never seen or heard about women pirates before, and this one looked as greasy and as tough as the men. The female pirate reeked of death just as much as any of the male pirates Liza had faced.
Liza placed the heel of her boot on the woman’s neck, ignoring the pleading look in her eyes. Just before Liza pressed down and started cutting off the woman’s air supply, six SPA boats surrounded them all. Liza knew she couldn’t kill the woman in front of her coworkers.
Liza noticed for the first time, that the redcaps were no longer anywhere to be seen. She concentrated, in case they’d glamoured themselves invisible, and she saw one of the pirate boats, full of redcaps, speeding away under a haze of glamour.
Once SPA arrived, it didn’t take long for them to put the thirty pirates in handcuffs and take them and their boats away. They didn’t put Sloane or Liza in handcuffs, but they did make them ride back to headquarters on a SPA boat, under the watchful eye of three SPA operatives. Sloane held Liza’s hand the whole way, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She should have been upset that the two of them could end up in prison or in a lab in West Virginia, and she was, but what troubled her the most was that she’d been deprived of her opportunity to make Arty hurt and to watch while the life left his eyes. She knew that the way she felt was wrong and she tried to push those thoughts away. By the time they were seated in Reynolds’ office, facing the angry woman, she pretty much had.
Since Liza and Sloane had no tangible evidence of Arty’s involvement in the mermaid deaths, the serial murders, or even the drilling, the pirates ended up getting blamed for everything. Liza was pretty sure that Reynolds didn’t entirely believe Sloane’s story that Liza had been kidnapped by the pirates and forced to shoot him, but she accepted the story as though she did. Liza suspected Reynolds just didn’t want to lose her best operative or the woman who could dream of death.
Somehow, it seemed that SPA had no clue Sloane and Liza had been involved in the attack on Arty’s mansion. It meant Sloane didn’t have to make up more lies, but it also meant that their only, admittedly weak, evidence of Arty’s involvement didn’t exist. The records showing that Arty had purchased the drill no longer existed. Once again, Arty was free.
As they left Reynolds’ office, Liza couldn’t stop the gnawing desire she felt to find Arty and hurt him. Sloane wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she smiled up at him, trying to look happy that neither of them had been arrested. Sloane smiled back, but she could see the worry and doubt in his eyes. “Why don’t you come back to my place?” he asked. “I’ll cook you dinner.”
Liza hesitated for just a moment. She wasn’t sure she could keep pretending if she spent the night with Sloane, but she knew he’d only worry more if she didn’t. “Sounds wonderful,” she said.
The next morning, Sloane and Liza woke up together. She smiled at him, the craving she’d felt for violence had been sated by the love and physical intimacy Sloane gave her, and she felt more like herself again. Sloane’s phone rang, just as he was leaning in to kiss her. He started to ignore it, but Liza put a hand up to stop him. “You should answer it,” she said.
He frowned, but he put his phone to his ear and spoke for a few moments. He hung up quickly, his smile wide. “Arty is dead,” he said. “His body washed up on the beach this morning.”
Rage and a sense of loss barreled through her. Someone else had gotten the pleasure of ending Arty’s life. “How was he killed?” she asked.
“His body is too mutilated to be sure,” he said, “but whatever happened to him, it was pretty bad. It wasn’t your bullet that killed him.”
He meant to comfort her with that bit of information, so she swallowed her disappointment and sighed with what she hoped sounded like relief. “Did he suffer?”
“We won’t be sure until the autopsy report comes back, but it looks like he did.”
He wrapped his arms around her and she let him comfort her, trying to be glad they were together and well. She ignored the desire for blood and violence that clawed at her, revived by the news of Arty’s death.
Liza walked out onto the deck of Sloane’s boat while he took a shower, and found an envelope, with her name on it, taped to the door. A darkness surrounded the note and Liza tore it from the door with trembling hands. Inside, she found a letter, typed in dark letters.
Dear Liza,
Arty was just a pawn. His power is nothing compared to mine and everything he did was at my bidding. He died because he hurt you and abused your ability against my wishes. I promise, if you come to work for me, I will make sure no one ever hurts you again. I will allow you to sate the hunger that I believe has come to life in you, and I will tell you who and what you are. I will teach you to be more powerful than you can even imagine.
I’ll be in touch.
Liza folded the note four times and put it in her back pocket. She’d burn it when she was truly alone. She knew she should tell Sloane about the note and let him know that Arty had a boss, but she didn’t want to have to answer questions about the hunger the anonymous writer somehow knew about. She went back inside to Sloane and tried to be the person she’d been before Arty broke her.
Katharine Sadler lives with her husband in North Carolina. She’s been writing since she was ten and has wanted to be a writer even longer. When she’s not writing or otherwise gainfully occupied, she reads like it’s an addiction, exercises, skis whenever she gets the chance, and adds more books to her Amazon wish list.
Learn more about the author at:
http://www.KatharineSadler.com
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THE REAPING (Book 1 of The Reapers Series)
ON A WHITE HORSE (1.5 of The Reapers Series)
THE REVOLT (Book 2 of The Reapers Series)
THE RIFT (Book 3 of The Reaper Series)
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