The Angel of Elydria (The Dawn Mirror Chronicles Book 1) (56 page)

Annette allowed sobs to wrack her body, buying time while she got her thoughts in order. The thought of trying to use her Angel’s tongue for protection as soon as they removed the gag crossed her mind, but what chance did she have against Nestor? How could she escape the Angelic Lord?

Something deep within her was screaming to stand up, to refuse and to go out fighting instead of playing part in the destruction of thousands of innocent lives, but Annette also couldn’t bear the idea of being subjected to the unknown horrors of Phobos and Deimos’s twisted desires. Her heart slowed to a defeated whisper.

Annette thought of herself as a good person, and had always assumed that when given the choice to save others or help herself, she would unwaveringly choose the former. The shame and despair of being proven otherwise was almost more than she could bear.

She nodded, misery overwhelming her.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to break out in gooseflesh. Deimos’s eye ran first over her face and then the rest of her body before his dark iris flashed upward, connecting with her gaze. “Even in such a wretched state your beauty shines through. No matter what Valentine might say, you really are a lovely creature…seems like such an awful waste to kill you.” He shrugged and stood up, moving across the room. “Now we wait.”

A tortuous year seemed to be hidden within every minute spent in that room, the tension mounting between her and Deimos. It finally grew to its zenith when he turned back around, his bristled ponytail swinging as he gazed once more upon Annette. She regarded him, every fiber of her being on high alert. Deimos laughed, chilling Annette to the bone.

“You must be so frightened.” He sauntered back over to her bedside and brushed the hair away from her eyes. “Perhaps Lord Nestor will take pity on you…he is kind to those who are loyal to him. He brought my brother back from the furthest reaches of madness in return for my help in creating Cyrus and all those wraiths.” Deimos rubbed his chin, his leer causing her stomach to churn. His one dark eye traveled all about the room as if deliberating something.

“Truthfully, I may not be so opposed to helping you myself. It does pain me so to see such a lovely specimen destroyed. Beauty is a scarce commodity in dark times. I wonder—I could take it upon myself to persuade Lord Nestor to spare your life.”

Annette made no movement as Deimos sat back down, a contemplative expression on his face.

“I wouldn’t ask for much. All I would require in return would be your obedience. Can you promise me that?” Deimos prodded, and Annette knew he had misread her stillness as a hint at compliance. She stared into his eyes, Della’s words echoing in her mind.

You are not helpless. You are not selfish.

Her expression remained impassive as everything came crashing down within her. The previous notion that she would comply with the sordid plot burned away and faded to naught. In an instant, Annette no longer cared what was to become of her life, or what she might be forced to endure as a result. Where there had only been crushing despair before now burned a flame of inexhaustible courage. She was ready.

She nodded to Deimos, feigning vulnerability. A smiled flowed over his lips and he reached to undo her gag. Her jaw clamped as she felt his fingers pry at the knots. Deimos let the cloth fall away from Annette’s mouth, their gaze lasting less than a second before he lurched forward and pressed his lips hard against Annette’s, not even giving her the chance to take a breath. Annette writhed in disgust as she felt Deimos grasp her head to stop her from breaking away. His other hand crawled up her stockings and under her skirts, gripping her naked thigh as a heady moan rumbled in his chest.

He held her steadfast as his greedy lips moved across hers, the hold on her leg growing painful. Annette tried to wriggle away, but this only seemed to excite him more.

She felt his tongue cross her lips and bit down with all the force she could muster, tasting a rush of salty, hot blood. Deimos reared back, howling as a mouthful of blood dribbled through his teeth and down his face and hands.

Fighting the urge to retch, Annette sprung to her feet, spitting as she made a mad rush for the door. It was a trick to get it open with her hands bound behind her back but she managed, feeling the rush of victory.

Annette stumbled into the hall as fast as her shaking feet would move, Deimos’s wails still ringing out behind her. Resolved now to her task, she hobbled down the dark hall, her ankle stinging with pain from her fall in the woods. The castle corridor twisted, but Annette did not care where she was going. She had to put as much space between Deimos and herself as possible.

A rush of adrenaline hit as a roar shook the hallway behind her. Deimos appeared at the end of it, his front covered in blood as he drew the long blade from the sheath at his side. The image of him impaling Della became more vivid in Annette’s mind than she cared for.

“
You will pay for that!
” Deimos’s voice, thick with blood, erupted.

It was only a matter of time before he caught up. She knew with her injured foot she was moving too slow to put any real distance between them. Deimos rushed toward her with his rapier lifted high, the blade whistling like a wasp in the darkness.

Annette took a deep breath and started to summon the Angelic power, but Deimos was too fast. She heard a rushing sound, and then a painful thump on the back of her head sent her tumbling to the ground. Deimos kicked her onto her back and reached down, clamping his sinewy hand across her throat, cutting off all her air. Deimos lifted her, choking the life out of Annette as he slammed her delicate frame against the wall. She could see his bloodstained grin through her watering eyes.

“Your suffering will be the makings of legend, Annette Deveaux,” Deimos growled, blood still bubbling over his chin. He looked at her chest, a flicker of concern flashing across his face. Annette peered downward to see a golden thread of light streaming from her body.

Deimos’s grip loosened. “What…is this?” he sputtered. “What are you doing?”

Annette looked around and spotted Hector and Simon speeding down the hall toward them. Empowered by the sight of her friends, Annette lashed out, her knee finding the pit of his stomach.

He howled and dropped Annette and she took a long, ragged breath that stung her throat all the way down. Hector rushed forward and grabbed Annette while Simon hurtled himself at an incapacitated Deimos. They collided in a flurry of limbs while Hector pulled Annette out of the fray.

“Are you all right?” Hector gasped, waving his hand to make the golden thread disappear from Annette’s chest. She nodded through quivering gasps, massaging her throat.

Deimos leapt to his feet and shuffled around Simon, his blade raised high. Simon flicked his wand at Deimos and a shower of ice blustered out, but Deimos was ready. He pulled another sword with a wide, black blade from his belt, and swept it through them, causing the icicles and hailstones to shatter in midair. As the fragments tinkled to the ground, Deimos sheathed the rapier and darted forward, ducking low to the ground and making a wide swipe at Simon, who leapt out of the way just in time to keep from getting his legs cut out from under him.

Hector spun his hand in a wide circle, an arcane circle blossoming from his fingers. Deimos did not wait to see what Hector’s spell was going to do, and hurtled himself toward Hector. With a graceful movement Hector laced his fingers into a bizarre hand sign and drove his interlocked hands through the golden circle, causing it to shatter into a hundred tiny shards of light.

The lights swarmed Deimos as he flew forward, crystallizing into a golden bubble around his body. The fragments sealed themselves and everything went silent for a second before Deimos thrust his sword forward and pierced the golden bubble, ripping a wound in its shimmering side and causing white hot veins to course through the sphere.

“Seival protect us!” Hector yelped, leaping backward as Deimos tore out from the center of the bubble, heaving the full weight of the sword at Hector’s head.

Annette screamed as Deimos brought the razor edge of the blade down toward Hector’s skull, but Hector crouched and tossed up his hands, his palms sparkling with runes as he used the last of Simon’s magic to arrest Deimos’s movement in midair. Simon stumbled as he struggled to stay conscious. Deimos’s expression of savage dominion changed to one of abject confusion.

Hector shoved his palms at Deimos, throwing him back into the wall where his head collided with stone. Deimos slumped down the wall, his blade clattering to the floor. Annette limped forward and landed a heavy kick to the side of Deimos’s head, causing his good eye to roll back.

The three victors stood wheezing over Deimos’s crumpled form, expecting him to shudder to life once again. Simon was the first to stumble backward and lean against the wall for support. His face was pinched, and he looked as if he were just holding onto consciousness after the large amount of magic Hector had taken from him. Hector stumbled over to Annette, untied her wrists, and looked her over for wounds.

“You’re okay,” Hector sighed.

Annette swallowed and nodded, hardly daring to believe that she had survived the encounter. She could not begin to understand how Simon and Hector had found her, but it only took a few moments for the gratitude to come rushing out. She looked at both of them with a quivering lip and tried to form words without success. In a rush of emotion, she lunged forward with her arms spread wide to catch them both in an embrace. Hector whined as she caught him around the middle and squeezed hard.

“Look, we’re very happy you’re safe, but we need to get out of here―urgently,” Hector reminded them, looking down the hall in the direction they had come in. “I’ll just target Penelope and Argent with the spell and―”

“Hector, wait!” Simon shouted, his voice echoing as he pointed to the opposite end of the corridor, where a line of four doors could be seen. Hector didn’t seem to realize what he was supposed to be looking at and glanced back at Simon, nonplussed.

“Don’t you remember what Della told me? ‘The right-most corridor and up the stairs’! I think this is what she was talking about―”

“Oh, of all the idiotic―” Hector cried.

“No, no, no! I’m serious, I have a really good feeling about this. Come on, let’s go!” Simon gestured for them to follow, but Annette stopped, putting her finger to her lips.

“Are you sure it was the right-most?” she croaked. “I could’ve sworn she―”

“No, I’m positive! Please, let’s not waste time!” Simon did not wait for them to agree and galloped toward the door farthest to the right. Hector sighed and they trailed Simon, plunging blindly into the darkness that lay ahead.

S
tay close, Penny. You don’t want to get lost in this,” Argent warned as they stepped into the crowded street.

The lane was hung with paper lanterns and gaudy decorations. Carnival booths lined either side of the street, and between them a heaving mass of bodies awaited the appearance of the king. The flashes of bright color from fireworks and the menagerie of grinning masks were threatening to send Penny into an anxiety attack. They burst through the thickness of the crowd and retreated into a deserted alleyway.

“We’ll wait here until the speech is over,” Argent panted, lifting his beaked mask to wipe the sweat from his brow. Penny saw unmistakable fear in his eyes; their chances of getting away unscathed were starting to seem slight.

“Argent…if they…if they don’t come back after tonight, promise not to leave me, okay? I don’t think I can―”

“I’ll have none of that,” Argent snapped, his sharp tone catching Penny off guard. “They’ll be fine. And what do you take me for, anyway? I would never abandon a friend. Now shut up and see if you can spot anything out there.” He pointed to the street and replaced his mask.

Penny smiled behind her mask and poked her head out of the alleyway to peer into the crowd, feeling her heart almost stop beating as she came face-to-face with Phobos. He was crossing through the group of people when his eyes fell on Penny. She gasped and shrunk back into the shadows of the alleyway. Argent bristled at once, sensing something was wrong. Before Penny could explain, Phobos’s shiny bald head bobbed into the grimy alleyway. His shoulders hunched over as he approached Penny and Argent.

“Hello, little brother, little sister. Why so sneaky-sneaky, eh? Shouldn’t you be out watching for dear old King Yulghrat? You know it’s dangerous for humans in Hulver right now,” Phobos reminded them in his wavering voice.