Dark Harmony
Page 78

Next to me, I sense the Thief about to speak.
“Why am I here?” I ask, swiveling to him. “Why not just kill me or incapacitate me like all the other fairies you’ve come across?”
That would’ve been easier.
The Thief pauses, assessing me.
“Why?” he finally says. “Why, why, why? You creatures and your need to have orderly, logical answers. When someone falls in love, is it logical? And when they blindly hate, is that logical either? Your deepest drives are based on nothing. What you’re asking for is an explanation for the unexplainable.”
I didn’t expect that answer. The Thief of Souls went and got philosophical on me.
He steps in close. “Stop trying to understand me. You will never fathom my motives. I am not like you or anyone else.”
I study him. “What do you intend to do with me?”
Now that sinister smile is back. A minute ago, I could almost pretend he was civilized. I can’t now.
“Whatever I please,” the Thief says.
We’d like to see him try.
“Yeah, I fucking get that, but what does that actually mean?”
“Is the anticipation killing you, enchantress?” He touches a lock of my hair, his hand sliding down it. “It means that I’ll have you in all the most obvious ways you fear—I’ll fuck you, I’ll eat out that enchanting little pussy, I’ll make you go down on me. But that won’t be the end of it. There are many things you will do to please me, and there are many things I will do to you to please myself. It will go on and on like this until you can no longer do them.”
Until my spirit is utterly broken, he means.
“The true question will be how long you survive my … attentions. Your life is now measured in centuries, not decades. That mind of yours is more resilient than it was when you were human—and of course, your bond will keep you sane and keep your priorities right where I need them to be. I have a feeling you will last a long while.”
The horrible truth is that even though we’re both aware the Thief’s using my bond against me, I’m still going to play right into his hand. Because seeing Des in pain and feeling him slip away from me, it makes me panicked.
“You’re going to find that I’m not that fun of a captive.” I wasn’t when I was his prisoner before. I won’t be this time around either.
“On the contrary, I think you’ll be exceedingly pleasing.”
I can’t even fathom the future he intends for me. All those minutes, hours, days, years—centuries. All of it a sick, twisted horror show.
Maybe this is hell. Maybe this is hell and I’m getting my first taste of it.
I glance out at the sea, frowning. It stretches into the night, and it’s not clear what—if anything—lies beyond it.
A pier juts out from the castle grounds. Tethered to it is a lone ship, its sails in tatters and its hull sunk deep in the water. It leans severely to one side, and the ship’s rigging dangles limply, and there isn’t a breeze to stir any of it.
At once, I’m struck by the true oddness of this place.
Why would the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth have a palace right next to a strange ocean? Why would there be a ship? And why would that ship fall into disrepair?
And speaking of hell and the afterlife—
I glance around. “Where are all of the dead?”
You’d think they’d be roaming these halls, either as specters or as full-blooded people, yet I haven’t seen a soul other than Des and Galleghar—and the Thief, of course.
The Thief stares at me, his mind a mystery. “I’ll show them to you, shortly.”
With that cryptic response, he takes my hand and placidly leads me back inside his palace, with its pale walls and the blood red vines that look like gashes.
We pass through several rooms, each one looking a bit like the last, and this one should be no different, except it is. When we enter, I see someone I don’t recognize.
The fairy is covered in iron shackles—his neck, his wrists, his ankles. Thick, iron chains link the manacles together.
I suck in a breath at the sight of his blistering skin.
The fairy is not alone, either. The woman at his side has an ethereal glow to her.
She’s dead, I realize with shock.
I hadn’t thought the Thief was going to show me the dead so soon after his cryptic response.
If the dead look like that …
Des isn’t dead. I hadn’t thought he was, but then I hadn’t been sure. This place bends reality.
The shackled man ignores us entirely, leading the dead woman on.
“Who is he?” I ask as we pass the two by.
“Kharion, the ferryman.”
The ferryman?
“You mean the guy that transports the dead?” Back on earth we had human myths about that. I hadn’t realized that at least in the Otherworld, the afterlife really worked this way.
“Just when I think your only redeeming quality is your face, you surprise me with your infinitesimal intellect,” the Thief says.
My gaze thins.
“Why is he shackled?” I ask.
“We don’t see eye to eye.”
Before I can ask any further questions, the Thief drags me out of the room, and onwards we go.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
I’m getting impatient. My siren is still whispering her dark deeds, and I’m not acting on any of them because I’m afraid that nothing will stop the Thief—nothing but patience and surprise.
“I assumed you’d want to see where you were staying.”
I’m not staying. I’m leaving here with Des as soon as I see a good opportunity to do so—or else Temper is coming down here for all our asses.
The two of us arrive at a Gothic door, and I glance at the Thief, an eyebrow raised. In response, he flashes me a sly smile.
With an ominous creak, the door opens.
“Welcome to our rooms.”
Our.
My blood chills as my eyes sweep over the space. Even though I’m brave and angry, I still quake at the sight in front of me. The bed, with its crimson sheets, has iron cuffs and chains affixed to the four posts. It’s obvious they’re meant for me.
There’s an iron maiden in the room, a human-sized cage hanging from the ceiling, and a breaking wheel. There are chains dangling from the walls and ceilings, and just about every surface has iron or leather braces affixed to it.
It looks like a BDSM dungeon met the Inquisition and they had some fucked up kids together.
My hand edges for my thigh holster.
Kill him, kill him now before he can chain us.
The Thief leaves my side and wanders over to the wheel. “Care to test this one out?”
“That’s not my kink,” I say.
Watching you die is.
“Have you ever tried it?”
Obviously not. I don’t dabble in light torture on the weekends.
“What do you think?” I say tartly.
“I think you won’t know what you enjoy until you’ve tried it.”
“I didn’t realize my enjoyment mattered to you.”
His hand leaves the wheel, and he walks over to me, stepping in close. “You better hope it matters to me, enchantress. Otherwise, the next two hundred years of your life could be very, very bleak.”
I’m tense, waiting for the Thief to break this brief stretch of civility. It won’t last with him—it never does. And where better to begin than in this fucked up room?