Chapter Forty Five
She looked around. She was on her hands and knees surrounded by pitch black. “Am I dead?” she wondered aloud.
“Hell, I hope not, that would be ever so boring,” drawled a rich, velvety voice beside her.
Dahlia jerked her head towards the sound to find a lean, handsome man with shockingly auburn hair and eyes entirely filled with a strange gold color. He was cuffed to a large, ornate chair by his wrists and ankles. He smiled at her and wickedly pointed canines displayed among impossibly white teeth.
“Hello dear,” he said.
Dahlia jumped to her feet and spun to face him. “What the hell is this?” she demanded.
“Your mind, you tell me,” he said pleasantly.
“Then tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Enjoying the view, mostly. You are quite lovely but I am getting tired of the men. I’m pretty open minded but would it kill you to change it up a little? I bet Borreal would share Fidelity if you asked,” he licked his lips. “That woman is intriguing. And that’s saying a lot coming from me.”
“That doesn’t help. What is a pervert doing in my head?” She snapped out, looking around for a way out. There was nothing but darkness.
“Watch who you’re calling ‘pervert’, sweetheart,” he said, still in a pleasant tone.
“I’m pretty sure voyeurism is a perversion. I don’t have time for this right now, people are going to die.”
“Pot calling the kettle black. I never even thought of mating with the dragon. That was all you. Interesting possibilities though. Now what are you worried about time for? We could spend hours here and it would seem like the blink of an eye for your physical body.”
“Fine. If it’s my mind, it’s my rules. Tell me who you are.”
“Don’t you know? You came looking for me,” he leaned in toward her, the muscles of his body shifting like a cat’s, his wrists straining slightly against the metal cuffs.
“I wasn’t looking for anything except power to break the damn band…” Her eyes shot open and she recoiled. “No.”
The man smiled like a cat trying to charm a canary, “Oh yes.”
“No. Get out of my head.”
He sighed, “You haven’t exactly given me great accommodations but sadly I can’t. What I can do is make you a rather attractive offer. You’re still so young, your power has so much room to grow but you just don’t have the time. I was alive for over three hundred years. I have enough power in one hand to allow you to free yourself then save that adorable lieutenant and the other soldier you care so much about.”
“No. I’ve never wanted anything to do with you before and I want nothing now. You’re legacy has caused me nothing but trouble. Puppet Master,” she spat at him.
“Leon will be just fine, no need to be formal,” he said primly. “I can tell you want nothing to do with me. How do you think I ended up imprisoned here? But I’m not asking for much. The power is here in you whether you use it or not. Would it be right of you to let your friends and lovers die because you wouldn’t use what you’d been given? Just free my right hand, that’s all you’ll need.”
He sounded so damn reasonable.
“Why would you want something as seemingly simple as that?” she asked him.
“Have you ever had to go decades without scratching your nose? If you had you wouldn’t have to ask.”
“Yeah right, nothing more than that.”
He smiled at her again. Leon, right. Forget a cat--he looked like a lion trying to sweet talk a canary.
“You know I really wasn’t as bad as they say. History can be so cruel to the losers.”
She’d been backed into a corner, she needed strength, she’d hit her limits. “Tell me this. What happens when you’re free.”
He looked pleased. “Excellent question! It depends on you and what you’re doing at the time.”
She held his strange eyes with her stare, “That was an evasion. Answer me directly.”
“So it was,” he agreed, “but true. A number of things could happen. I could be your friend, a part of you. You would access all my power, my memories, and use them as you would. I imagine I’d be stronger and more independent than your other imaginary friends but similar. Or I’d incorporate into your personality if you were enough like me. Or, if you are very unlucky and I am very lucky, our roles would reverse.”
“So you’re locked here for a very good reason and you want me to start to free you?”
The man tilted his head slightly, “Do you really have any choice?”
“I could die.”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t die. These men would use you. If I’m not mistaking Horan’s intentions it would be in more ways than one. You might still choose that route and hope to escape. Except you won’t sacrifice the people you care about, the ones you’re supposed to protect.”
Dahlia stopped. He was right. She might have sacrificed her own life to avoid giving sway to the shadow that had stalked her for so long. She wouldn’t sacrifice the lives of the people depending on her though.
She braced herself and faced him then. “It seems I am truly out of options. I accept your offer, monster.”
“Pot and kettle, dear.” He flashed his gleaming canines again.
She focused for a moment, steadied the fear that rose up inside her, and willed away one of the cuffs on the chair.
He stretched his arm, now free, and golden light raced over his arm. “You can have this for free,” his voice turned sharp, the velvet warmth gone. “Take the draconite and keep it hidden. Now, goodbye, my dear Dahlia,” he pushed his palm flat out at her and she felt herself shot back into awareness.
Shit, he had the power to push her out of an area of her own mind with only a small portion of his abilities. That was terrifying. She heard Traedon hit the floor. She didn’t have time to worry about it now. She reached for the same gold power she’d seen Leon wielding and it crackled around her vision. The band on her neck burned terribly but her body took the punishment without risking unconsciousness. She pushed the power into the band and the pain intensified exponentially. Then, with a burst of gold sparks, the pain vanished and the band exploded around her. Ahriman stepped back, shielding his face.
“Die maggot,” she growled and sent a bolt of the energy slamming into Horan’s mind. His shield shattered. His eyes rolled up into his head and he fell. Five puppets appeared around her. Four severed the cuffs holding her to the table while one pushed Ahriman back, caught off his guard.
He quickly recovered and slashed through the woman but Dahlia was already freed and on her feet. He looked at her eyes and fled.
“No you don’t,” she said, grinning madly. Flushed with a wild strength she’d never felt before she craved dominance over this man who had hurt her, thought to use her as his tool. She took off after him and two more puppets appeared as the other four darted over to Horan. She was surprised by her own increase in speed but kept her footing. Ahriman had to slow down to avoid the puppet’s strikes and she caught up with him easily. Grabbing him by the hair, she pulled him back and down, forcing his eyes up towards hers. One of the puppets stepped in to block a strike meant for her as Ahriman swung desperately.
“Let me break you,” she cooed as her eyes met his, wide with fear, and she dug into his mind.