Shadows Before the Sun (19 page)

Okay, Charlie. Time to think.
I lifted my manacled hands and rubbed both hands down my face.
You can’t change what you saw. You can only move forward.

I’d made it this far. They hadn’t killed me, hadn’t even harmed me, which meant they were saving that bit of fun for later.

Whatever the Circe planned, the first thing I had to learn was how to brace myself against their voices. I had to put the force of my will and my power behind keeping their voices from overwhelming my thoughts. I had to be prepared before they spoke because if I wasn’t they’d have me enthralled with the first syllable. My power was strong enough. It had to be. And though the Circe were far stronger than the siren who’d attacked me, I knew it was possible. I knew my power could, at the very least, lessen the impact of their power.

And I had to find out what had happened to Alessandra because if the Circe knew about me, then everything about the oracle’s presence in Fiallan was in question. I hoped like hell she was currently lying her heart out, telling them I’d tricked her, that she had no idea who I really was.

And lastly, and in keeping with my mantra, I had to kill the Circe.

“No problem. One step at a time, right?” I let out a hefty sigh and scooted so my back rested against the wall.

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, at the hopelessness, and it made me remember Hank laughing. He’d sounded . . . like he’d gone insane.

He wasn’t surprised by much these days, but the Circe coming back into his cell was an unwelcomed surprise. His neck was freed and he was lifted to face them, held up by two sirens on either side of him.

Dizziness made the Circe’s faces blend into one and then separate into six. Funny, that.

Except he was hungry and being upright made his stomach turn like one of those fun house rides at Stone Mountain. Fuck. He was going to hurl.

His body lurched and he dry heaved at their feet. There was nothing to come out but spit and bile; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

The Circe stepped back. He laughed at them.

“Niérian is much stronger than we thought.”

“Perhaps better used in other ways, sisters.”

“This human will be our leverage. We must know her secrets.”

“Shall we torture her first?”

“Surely she will break much quicker than a son of Elekti-Kairos.”

“Surely.” One of the bitches grabbed his face. “What is she to you, Malakim?”

“Release me, witch, and after I dismember you and strangle you with your own guts, I’ll have mercy and throw your remains into the sea.” He grinned at her, wanting her to fight him, wanting to lash out, even if it killed him. He wanted her death so badly, he could taste it.

She smiled at him. A beautiful smile. Evil to the core. Her grip tightened and then she looked down at his chest where he had clawed the marking. “You are linked to this human.”

“Yes, but how are you linked?” another one said, which made him frown in confusion.

“He doesn’t remember.”

He hated that they spoke of him like this, so plainly, as though he did not exist. He struggled against the guards.
“He
is right here, morons.”

For that he received a punch in the stomach by one of the guards, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. Without support, his legs were too weak to hold him and he collapsed onto the floor. Onto his back. He screamed in pain and rolled to his side, the shock of it stealing his breath, and then the kick to his back sent him to blackness.

He came to on his back, his entire body humming with pain; three faces stared down at him, chanting in the most beautiful melody and tone he had ever heard. Each reached down and touched him with their pointer finger. One on the
forehead, one on the left temple, and the other on the right temple.

Bright light blinded him. And then he saw flashes. Of the woman in his dreams. But these visions, they conflicted with the ones he’d had before. Of her sitting on a couch . . .

“Do you love him?” someone, a female, asked her.

“No.”

Then other visions, bits and pieces of her, laughing at him, thinking him dim-witted and slow. Using him to get what she wanted. He heard himself groan. He didn’t like these things. These confusing things that somehow had the power to hurt him.

“Who wouldn’t want a siren in their bed?” the Circe’s voice echoed inside of his head. “You are but a trophy, a thing to be used, so she can say she had you.”

“She doesn’t love you.”

“She doesn’t respect you.”

“She believes you to be lesser than siren, not raised as a siren, not taught as a siren, not educated or sophisticated.”

And it was all true. He had fled Fiallan as an adult male with not even the most basic knowledge about how to live or care for himself. He’d had to learn it all from a hermit in the woods of Gorsedd.

The conflict inside of him pushed like a living thing at his chest until he demanded they stop.

“Do as we say, Niérian, and you shall reclaim the honor your treachery stole from your family. Do as we say and the name of Elekti-Kairos will be exonerated with honor and your estate reclaimed.”

“Fuck you,” he said, knowing they lied.

“Do as we say,” the voice whispered softly against his ear, “and we will release you from the NecroNaMoria. Your soul will find peace, Niérian. Peace.”

Peace was more than a word, an idea, or state of being. It was a place. Something he’d seen for himself, felt for himself, a glimpse of true heaven, true paradise for his broken soul. His will cracked, just a small fissure, but a crack that spread. All he had to do was agree.

But then, he could always kill the bitches instead and release the spell that way. If only he had the strength within him. He was one siren against three of the most powerful siren witches in history, and they’d made sure his body was weak and drained.

“Remember what it feels like, siren,” the beautiful voices whispered as one, one so powerful the temptation-laced words made him shudder. “Your soul free from the confines of your body. Aren’t you tired, Niérian? Of the pain, the regret, the longing and guilt? We offer you freedom, the infinite beauty, the absence of all but peace . . . Stillness. Serenity. Silence.”

And that’s when he caved, when he couldn’t fight it anymore because he had tasted paradise so many times his heart and his soul wept for it. Those brief encounters with freedom haunted him, destroyed him. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes and his throat tightened, but not before he said, “Agreed.”

“You’ll do anything we ask of you?”

He glared at them, all the hate he felt burning his eyes. “Yes. Anything.”

•    •    •

“Hello! Anyone out there?” I kicked the door, glared lasers at it, and then kicked it some more. If I had my
boots I could really make some noise. As it was, my bare feet only made the hinges rattle. “Come on!” I yelled. “You have a prisoner in here in case you fucking forgot!”

If it wasn’t for Sachâth hounding my every power move, I’d use my freakish fireball of an arm and burn my way free. But then passing out in the hallway where I’d be found and confined again wouldn’t really do me any good.

“Ugh!” Hours of waiting. Hours of wondering. If they were going to interrogate me, then: “Get it over with already!” I wanted a fight, to avenge Hank, to give the Circe a taste of their own medicine, but they weren’t going to oblige. I kicked the door again and marched back to the wall to sit down. I drew my knees to my chest and pulled the fabric of the white gown around my legs.

I closed my eyes.
Okay, chill. Find your Happy Place.

Of course, my Happy Place was Emma, which was a bad idea. I was too charged, too emotional. I really should have a backup Happy Place where things were good and warm and—my stomach growled—and satisfying. Ooh. Like Aeva buns. The Happy Imp Bakery where all things were fluffy, white, and delicious.

I rested my forehead on my folded arms and imagined myself lounging on white clouds, eating an Aeva bun, savoring every bite, every sugary flavor . . . Finally, I felt exhaustion easing its way into my body and mind.

•    •    •

Note to self: using food to induce a calm state of mind while imprisoned is not the brightest idea in the world—I woke to an aching ass, stiff neck, and a
really
pissed off stomach.

My feet were freezing cold, but at least the ends of the gown had dried. I got up and brushed off my gown, then worked out my stiff joints.

The door to my cell opened. I glared at the siren guard, all my earlier ire resurfacing. I did not plan to be a good prisoner or make it easy for my captors; it was the principle of the thing. “It’s about fucking time.”

He grabbed my arm to pull me to the door, but instead swung me in an arc so that I slammed into the wall next to the open door. “Oops, sorry,” he said, and then jerked me through the door and into the hallway.

Asshole.

But I did note, as we went down the passageway, that his voice didn’t have much effect on me. The Circe were another matter, of course, but I’d been caught off guard before. This time I’d be better prepared.

I was taken into the main chamber, the massive cavern where the sea flowed in and out, the sound echoing off the walls. Some of the white blossoms we had placed in the water during the Panopéic rites remained in the calmer pools. The Circe were gathered behind the altar, their attention fixed on the altar’s surface.

The urge to be sarcastic and disrespectful almost had me saying
Yo, bitches
. But I said nothing and parked a glower on my face as I was led forward.

They looked up in unison and I decided the whole triplet thing was getting old. I glanced down and saw what they’d been hovering over.
Oh great.
A certain stone tablet, yea big, with rounded corners and symbols just as Leander had described.

There was my ticket to free my sister and the others from their
ash
addiction.

Ephyra stepped around the altar and grabbed my right arm, holding it out to examine the writing as I concentrated on bracing myself against her voice. “It is the same,” she said. Her fingers dug into my skin. My arm was still sore from the night before and it felt as though she was digging into a bad bruise, but her voice was so pretty . . .

C’mon. Concentrate on your power!
I drew my energy into my core and envisioned it as a barrier against the Circe’s voices.

Arethusa shoved the tablet at me. “What does this say?”

A wave of giddiness swamped me, but I held strong to the barrier I envisioned, finally finding my voice. “How should I know?” I tried to pull away but was held tight. “You’re the old ones, not me.”

“Yet you have the same writing on your arm.”

“You must know what it means.”

I jerked out of Ephyra’s grip, rubbing the offended arm and taking a deep breath to steady myself
against their thrall. “I don’t. I have no idea what my markings say or what that tablet says. It’s probably an ancient receipt for cows or something,” I added just to irritate them.

“She lies,” Ephyra said.

Calliadne touched my bare shoulder and walked around to my back, trailing her hand over my skin to the marking on my shoulder blade. Her touch made my skin crawl.
Barrier. Think Barrier. Don’t let them in.
“And this, do you know what this means?” she asked.

I swallowed hard, using my anger to focus. “I’m guessing the answer doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Not really,” Arethusa answered, her eyes narrowing. “All we need to know lies with another. With Niérian, as he bears the same mark on his chest.”

“His
name
is Hank.”

“No. His name is Niérian,” Ephyra said, challenging me with a lift of her chin.

Fury leapt hot and ready to the surface, rising in me with every word I spoke. “Well, if you wanted him to keep his given name so badly then maybe you shouldn’t have lied to him, labeled him a traitor, killed his entire family, and then tortured him to death, you stupid bitch!”

Her slap was so quick I didn’t see it coming. There was enough power behind it to send me airborne. I landed in a heap on the cavern floor, so angry that the initial landing didn’t hurt as much as it should have. I saw stars, though, and the side of my face felt numb.

That whole
don’t kill the Circe
thing? Fucking dissolved.
Disappeared. Gone. I stood, rage tearing around inside me like a tornado.

Rational Charlie reminded me I couldn’t let loose the power gathering inside me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring Sachâth here in front of them.

“Her arm, sisters, it’s glowing.”