Page 33 of Light and Shadow
Jax steps beside me. “We’ll have to wait for daylight.”
“I know.” But I don’t like it.
Chapter Nine
Harper
Another elf comes and takes me by the arm. “Come.”
How long have I slept, hours or days? I have no idea. I’m stiff and sore from lying on the hard stones and the torture.
“Where are you taking me?” Maybe I can talk him into going elsewhere.
“She calls for you.” His voice is strong but not aggressive.
I stumble at the cell door, and he grips me tighter to keep me upright. His attempt to save me from a fall is as painful as the fall might have been. I grunt and suck air in through my teeth.
He stops, gentles his grip, and bows his head. “I apologize. I only meant to keep you from injuring yourself.”
Once the sharpest of the pain subsides, I attempt a smile. “I know. I’m alright. What is your name?”
“I am Beran.” His commanding voice makes me think he was a soldier before being enslaved. He whispers, “Are you one of the humans who is prophesied?
I shrug. “That’s what they tell me, but I hardly think I can save anyone. I’m surprised you know about me. I mean, being here, like this.”
Once again taking my arm, he leads me down a long corridor. “She’s afraid of you. She laments your existence to that traitorous pig, Ciaran.”
“I’m sorry I failed you. I came to this world to help, but I wasn’t good enough.” Pain and guilt and hopelessness well up inside me, and I hate that I can’t manage them any more than I can control my situation.
“Stay alive, human.” He pulls his lips into a line, and his jaw tightens.
It seems to me a sign that he’s done talking, which is pretty annoying since he’s probably the last person with whom I’ll ever have a conversation. Pulling my arm free, I lift my chin and walk on my own. Every step is agony, but I refuse to let him or anyone else see how dangerously close I am to a complete meltdown. This Jersey Girl will not be terrorized by anyone or anything. They may kill me, but they won’t break me.
In the hall where I was abused and where I’ll likely die, pillars rise fifty feet to the ceiling, are large enough to hide two men, and I wonder what evil lurks behind them. Though they are stained sooty black like the rest of the hall, a hint of gold shines through at the top of each beveled ridge. The broken and rough floor, which I thought was gray stone, has a pattern beneath the grime, like marble. “I guess she spoils everything she touches.”
Beran takes my arm again and draws me to the center of the hall. With a gentle squeeze, he releases me to continue toward the dais alone, then backs away until I no longer hear his footsteps.
Terrible and familiar, the witch queen steps in front of the throne, dressed in black leggings and a tunic. On the belt at her hip hangs a dagger with a golden stone on the hilt. As if for some effect, she’s wearing a black cape that nearly reaches the ground. It seems completely impractical, but what do I know of elf witches?
She takes out her dagger and buries the tip deep in the arm of the throne. “Your world is puzzling to me.”
Twenty feet from the dais, I stop. She plans to kill me or make me a shadow demon. I’m not giving this aberration any information. Who knows what she’ll do if she can reach Earth. Not that I know anything about magic. Until a few weeks ago, I thought magic wasn’t real.
“My spies tell me humans wield no magic. Why don’t you use the magic available to you?” She narrows her gaze.
Something pokes my back and shoves me forward, bruising just under my right shoulder blade. I stumble, but keep on my feet.
Ciaran, also dressed in black, but minus the cape, circles me. A sword hangs from his belt, and his cuffs are adorned with red lace. Like some demonic drum major, he twirls a pale wooden rod painted with black markings. He strikes behind my legs, forcing my knees to smack the hard ground.
I cry out, but bite my lip, stilling any other sounds.
“Answer, or I will beat you with this until you beg for the chance to speak.” He smacks the back of my head with the rod.
Grabbing the already swelling lump, I say, “I don’t know the answer. We know nothing of magic. Maybe we’ve forgotten over the years.”
“Useless,” Venora says. “You are of no value, human.” She spreads her fingers and thrusts her arms forward.
Jagged black bolts streak toward me from her fingertips, and when they strike, pain rips through my center, burning cold, and I pray for death to end the unbearable pain. It rises from my gut up to my chest, neck, and head. My screams fill the hall in a never-ending cry. I can’t stop myself, nor can I move any muscle. Hovering above the floor, racked with agony, I force my mind to detach.
