Those Who Fear the Darkness (BloodRunes: Book 2) (12 page)

“Yes, please,” answered Layna emphatically,
returning his smile with enthusiasm. “Tell me about your family
then, how much of what you told me was real?”

Gryffon sobered. “Unfortunately most of that
was. My mother grew ill when I was young and we fought hard to keep
her alive, but in the end the suffering to continue living
outweighed her fear of dying and she let herself go. My father was
never the same, and though he did right for me, once I was on my
own he faded away as well. We didn't lose our holdings as I told
Jezebel to gain entrance to her manor, but ever since I enlisted
with the Ieldran's spies, it has been managed by my cousin.”

“I'm sorry about your parents.”

“No need. They were both wonderful people,
and I will remember them both with happiness. They are together
once more in Gamoland.”

Layna was silent for some time. “Are you
going to get in trouble for not following orders and staying in
Avonmora?”

“I thought we weren't going to talk about
things like that,” he scolded her playfully.

“Sorry,” she replied, “I hope not
though.”

He didn't answer.

*

Jezebel moaned and opened her eyes. Her wrist
was sore, but the rest of her was substantially better than the
last time she had woken up. She blinked until she could focus and
at once noticed that the man she had just been dreaming about was
there with his back to her. He seemed to sense her waking and he
turned.

“Ah, you are finally awake. That was quite a
nap you took.” He laughed an eerie sort of chuckle.

Jezebel just stared at him. She didn't like
being laughed at.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and she felt
compelled to answer.

“I believe that most of my body is healed,
but I can't seem to remember anything.”

The man nodded as he undid the shackles
around her arms and legs. “I expected as much, I'll have Devon fill
you in on what's been happening and maybe he can jog your memory. I
need you back in action as soon as possible.”

Jezebel tilted her head as she sat up slowly,
rubbing her wrists.
Back in action
, he had said. This was
the King she had decided, her memory would not relinquish any other
information about him, but of his identity she was suddenly
clear.

So she had been correct in thinking that she
worked directly with the King.

But of course, what else would a woman of my
standing be doing?

Her body protested the movement, but
nonetheless she forced it to sit up straighter and she jutted out
her chin stubbornly. “I won't be doing anything until you explain
to me why I am being held here against my will.”

The King gave her an appraising look, a smile
playing on his lips. “Against your will, my dear? You have been
unconscious for weeks now. I have spent countless hours performing
strenuous healing,” he waved a hand towards the table, “which is
the purpose of the restraints,” he paused and had the good graces
to look ashamed as he said, “some of the healing was rather rough
on you and your body would have reacted by flailing even in your
unconscious state, so I regret the need to hold you. However, at no
time were you my prisoner as you imply, but rather my patient. But,
that is behind us now and we can begin to move forward. As I said,
I will be requiring your services as my First Advisor as soon as
you feel up to it.”

Jezebel raised an eyebrow.
First Advisor,
well now. That sounds important
. “I am sure that I can perform
my duties as needed right away. But tell me, what happened to
me?”

The King gave her a pitying look. “I'm sorry
to say that an experiment you were working on went terribly awry,
almost killing you in the process. Had I not been there to stop
them...” the King trailed off.

Jezebel's mind played tricks on her as she
swore she could hear the barking and snarling of dogs and she had a
flash of intense fear, an emotion she was not at all comfortable or
familiar with. Then it faded.

The memory was gone, and she was once again
left with the horrible void of her past. She didn't pry further,
refusing to admit to herself that she didn't want to know, didn't
want to relive whatever it had been that had caused the unwanted
emotion.

“So,” she said instead, “I'm sure that
whatever I was working on was extremely important, I assume I have
quarters that you can have a servant direct me to and then you can
send along this Devon fellow to fill me in. I want to get started
right away.”

The King's smile grew wider.

“Well?” she prompted, stepping carefully off
of the table. Every inch of her body felt weak and battered but she
didn't flinch - it never paid to look weak in front of your King.
She obviously deserved respect and knew that she probably already
was working on a plan to get even higher. Perhaps this Devon would
know.

The King nodded his head to her appropriately
and waved a hand indicating that she take the stairs ahead of him.
She did so, noticing for the first time that she was wearing a
ghastly robe, no doubt picked out by the King.
Men simply have
no taste
. She had a moment's embarrassment as she remembered
she had been naked on the table earlier, but it passed quickly. It
wasn't worth worrying about such trivial matters when she had
important royal business to take care of.

The top of the stairs opened up into what
must be the King's office area and she paused to let him catch up
to ring for a servant. As soon as he closed the passageway behind
them which blended into the wall as it shut, the door opened and a
servant came in and bowed to them both, without the King ever
having to lift a finger.

“Your Majesty.” A quick bow. Then to her,
“Advisor, welcome back.” The man turned sideways and held out a
hand. “This way to your suites, ma'am.”

The King had settled behind his desk and was
ignoring her, and he did not even bother to look up to dismiss
her.

She turned on her heel and swept ahead of the
servant, pausing in the hallway to let him take the lead. He led
her back out of the King's wing, passing more guards than Jezebel
would have thought necessary, and she idly wondered if there was a
reason for the King's added security. She was led down another
hallway, and they stopped at a door partway down.

The servant bowed to her and opened it,
letting her step inside first before asking if she required
anything else.

“No,” she said absently, her eyes taking in
the room around her for something, anything that she might
remember. Nothing seemed familiar, and she turned to the servant
who was still annoyingly hovering. “No, I don't require anything
else, you may leave me.”

The man bowed again and took his leave,
closing the door behind him. Jezebel glanced around once more. The
room was large and tastefully decorated though once she completed
her plans -
whatever plans they may be
- she was sure her
new rooms would be much more lavish.

A knock sounded at the door and she called
out, “Enter.”

A wolfish man came in and gave her a lopsided
grin. “My lady,” he greeted her. “I was so glad to hear that you
were back.”

She stared at him, without recognition. “And
you are?”

His forward steps faltered. “Devon, my lady.
You don't remember me?” He seemed rather more hurt than he should
have been seeing how from what she had gathered he was simply her
errand boy.

“I seem to be experiencing some memory loss
from my accident,” she told him waving her hand as if swatting a
fly. “I was informed that you would be bringing me up to date on
what I missed and helping me to recover my memory.”

He inclined his head towards her, “I will.
And it seems as though we will be taking a little trip as
well.”

*

Blood flowed freely from Katya’s neck as she
tossed the collar aside. Detaching it had been slightly harder than
she had imagined and her neck had taken a beating in the
process.

It felt wonderful, though, and she didn’t
mind the wound in the least. Despite the warm stream of blood that
was running down her body, she was happy.

The freeness she felt as the weight of the
collar was relinquished from her was indescribable and she grinned
from ear to ear. Marak raced around her arm feverishly, much like
he did before a kill. But there was no such excitement in the
future. Their biggest excitement was -

Well, she didn’t know. And
that
was
what was so exciting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d
been able to make a real decision for herself.

And how many have I killed?
She felt a
moment’s remorse, but quickly repressed it.
No matter
. Let
it be on Karl’s conscience.

It was like being reborn. She was a new
person, and would not let past wrongs interfere with her new
persona. The assassin she had been while under Karl’s control was
no more.

She growled under her breath. Thoughts of
Karl led her to a murderous rage, and she quickly suppressed these
feelings. They were not conducive to her future self. She didn’t
know what exactly she would be from now on, but had no doubt that
she would not simply be someone’s useless killer.

Where she should go, and what she should be
were questions that burned in her mind. Never before, at least in
her memory, had she had such a choice. It was tempting -
oh so
tempting -
to stick around just to see what happened to Karl
without her. No doubt those in this secret society he thought he
was so important in would be annoyed at him for allowing her to
escape. She wondered what kind of punishment would result from the
misplaced trust. It would be amusing to find out.

Perhaps that was what she would do. After
all, what else did she have pressing that she should attend to? As
far as she knew, her parents were dead, and she had made no other
acquaintances that she hadn’t then killed, so why not?

Something bothered her, though she didn’t
really know why, about the thoughts she had gathered from Karl
before breaking the unwanted contact. She felt as though something
that he was involved in was vile, but was not so convinced that she
felt any compulsion to find out more by direct contact with him.
Maybe she would just disappear but continue to watch him. That way,
she could satisfy her curiosity how well he did without his
favorite pet and with his peers angry with him, as well as
hopefully finding out more of what was nagging her without actually
having to maintain a contact with him again.

She didn’t care if he was planning on taking
over the world. She would never -
ever
- initiate a contact
with him again. Her lips curled in revulsion at the memory of her
first unwanted contact.

No.

But just watching wouldn’t hurt…her at
least…

Yes
. It would make her happy to see
him hurting. She would stick around until she was satisfied that he
was doing so. Or if it didn’t come fast enough by itself, she would
make him suffer for what he did to her…

CHAPTER 6

Here in Treymayne, they were able to stop at
the inns, as there were no wanted posters displaying their
identities all over the place. Layna was almost disappointed since
she was still nervous about being in a new land, but her fear was
unwarranted as it turned out to be very similar to back home.

Back home
. This was a phrase that her
thoughts had been using a lot in the last few days, and Layna was
beginning to grow homesick. Not for Jezebel's manor, certainly, and
not even really for her parents’ house. Though maybe for Mila's a
little, and there was definitely still the pain from Mila's
passing.

More than anything though, she longed for the
feeling she used to have. The feeling of home as a place where she
knew who she was and what her purpose was in life. It seemed like
just yesterday that she had been sitting around the fireplace in
the kitchen with Aaron and Katrina and the bunch gossiping about
the nobles' love lives. How different her thoughts were now.

In between memorizing new spells and
practicing with her newfound talent, she thought about kings
chasing her, hellhounds being created by her former mistress and
sent after her, and now horses that talked. She constantly had an
itching feeling like something was sneaking up on her from the
shadows.

She also hadn't mentioned it yet, but the
mark on her neck had started to burn shortly after they had
dissolved the barrier. She had thought it was her imagination at
first, but she couldn't continue to ignore it as she was now sure
it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her. She couldn't deny
the very real sensation that persisted. Her nightmares had worsened
as well, and the King’s face kept appearing before her, urging her
to join him once again as he had in the cavern. Aileen’s warning
seemed to be correct.

To make matters worse, for some reason Echo
kept throwing mind probes at her at the strangest of times. Gryffon
said she was probably just trying to be helpful in reminding Layna
to keep up her shielding, but Layna found it awfully draining both
physically and emotionally.

Layna did notice some subtle differences to
the countryside that at least made the differences she was sensing
a little more bearable as they had physical manifestations. She had
observed several altars to the Three that had been erected and
obviously well-used as they were overflowing with the offerings of
the worshipers.

The number three was even more prominent than
at home, and Gryffon had explained to her that unlike in Gelendan
where the nobles had mostly converted to the worship of the
Sleeping God, that in Treymayne the people were almost ubiquitously
still loyal to the Three. Layna herself was a believer in the
Three, a fact she was even more grateful for having heard Aileen's
account of the Sleeping God's true identity. She was eager to reach
the capital and pass along the burden of their information to those
more capable of handling it.