Part 21

Ronan collapsed on his knees in the dirt, and Zara pictured an invisible pair of steely claws gripping his shoulders and pushing him to the ground. The demon he had been harboring finally getting its way. Zara crouched in front of him, trying to quiet the many, frantic voices in her head. The one that wanted to charge after Ardon and end this, the one that wanted to scream, the one that want to comfort Ronan though she wasn't sure how. There was nothing she could say or do that would make any of it right and that was the worst of all.

The last lingering bits of anger and betrayal she felt toward him vanished, suddenly no longer mattering. All of this, all the intertwining threads that led to this moment, were connected to one person. To Ardon. He had dug his claws into both their lives, ripping them each apart in his own way to get what he wanted.

She pressed her hands to either side of his face, tilting his head to look at her. He looked dazed, eyes glazed over in pain. He wasn't there with her, he was somewhere else. Either with Annika, or remembering that day with the Shadow Coven. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ardon watching them with a satisfied kind of patience.

"Get up," she whispered urgently. "This isn't over. Annika needs you."

The sound of his sister's name snapped him back to reality. His eyes swept over Zara's face for a moment before he slumped forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder. Zara buried one hand in his dark curls. There was a part of her that wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Watching him fall apart was a different kind of pain, and it was unbearable. If there was a way, she would've taken some of it for him.

"They'll kill her. For what I did," she heard him finally say. "I did this to her."

"No, you didn't. You did what you were told. That's your only fault," Zara said, trying to make her voice firm. He lifted his head, looking at her with a pained expression. She lowered her voice. "Your sister needs you now." She swallowed hard. "And I do too. So stand up."

Ronan paused for a moment, and took in a heaving breath. His eyes closed for another beat longer, and when he opened them, she saw both fear there and resolve. His gaze locked with hers for a moment before he was standing. He rolled his shoulders back, straightening them as he turned to Ardon.

The werewolf king looked smug. "Now you understand? You and your sister, are my ticket to power."

"Trusting a witch is always foolish," Zara spat at him before she could stop herself, one hand on Ronan's lower back.

Ardon narrowed his eyes. "And entering these woods was foolish for you. Now walk."

Ronan's knuckles had turned white from how hard he was squeezing his hands together. He stubbornly hesitated for a single moment before taking a step and brushing past Ardon, who's arm shot out and grabbed Zara by the wrist. He tugged her closer to him, pressing his lips close to her ear. "Make no mistake, I've already won. So breathe in the forest air, feel the ground beneath your feet, and commit it to memory. You won't be able to enjoy it much longer."

His words crawled their way into her ears, nesting in her brain like little insects. He let go abruptly and stalked away. She suppressed a shiver, halting it midway up her spine. Her wrist burned from his tight grip, reminding her just how lucky she'd been he hadn't grabbed the other one. She let her mind wander to Silas as she caught up to Ronan, a wolf prowling behind her and making sure she stayed in line. There was no way of knowing where the Nightwalker was now, or if he had delivered the message. All either she and Ronan could do now was hope.

#

It felt like hours later when the silence was finally shattered by a single howl. The eerie sound was followed by at least half a dozen more, coming from all directions. Zara craned her neck, trying to figure out what all the sudden noise was about. What she saw made her footsteps falter. In the middle of the trees ahead of them loomed a tall crumbling building of stone. She hadn't noticed it before because of the trees that grew tightly and closely around it.

It looked like it had once been a manor house. Two pointed spires reached towards the sky, each sitting on either side of a wide, arching doorway. At one point there must have been an impressive wooden door there, but it was now missing. Dark windows covered the walls, some with missing panes of glass and others still with dirty, tattered curtains hanging over the glass inside. The stone walls were made of a combination of gray and tan colored bricks, worn from the elements but still standing tall and strong. Ivy and moss snaked up the sides of the walls, claiming them as part of the forest. There must have been over a dozen rooms at least, possibly more. This must've been Ardon's lair.

It was not what Zara had been expecting. She'd thought maybe a damp, empty cave with winding tunnels, or a camp filled with crudely built wooden huts. Instead, he had been holed up in a home that once must have belonged to a nobleman, or someone of wealth and power. Now that she was standing there in front of the manor, it made sense. Ardon craved power. He craved dominance. Of course he would want the best. This was not a man who settled for caves and shacks. And while the home was far from its glory, it was still impressive to look at.

"Home sweet home," Ardon purred, striding toward both her and Ronan. "What do you think?"

Ronan didn't respond, his jaw clenched tightly. Zara thought about not responding either, but Ardon was watching her with an expectant expression. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that warned her against saying the wrong thing.

"Impressive," she finally said shortly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Ardon grinned, his teeth impossibly white against the darkness around them. "Isn't it? Perhaps not compared to the castles your rulers laze about in, but in time..," he trailed off without finishing.

Around him, the rest of the pack had begun shifting into their human forms, heading inside the manor. She watched as lights began to glow in the windows, filling the rooms with shadows. What he meant to do with them now, Zara didn't know. She hadn't expected him to lead them to the place they'd been searching for since they'd entered the forest. It made her wonder, though...was Annika somewhere behind the stone walls? She glanced at Ronan. His jaw was still clenched, but his eyes had yet to turned away from the expansive building in front of them. She thought she saw hope there.

"Where are my manners?" Ardon crowed suddenly. "Do come in. I expect our guests are waiting."

Her curiosity pricked at the word 'guests'. She didn't ask, though, certain they would find out soon enough. He led them through the arched doorway and Zara found herself in what once must've been an impressive entrance all. Ahead of them, a splintering grand stairway curved upward toward the second floor. The room on her left opened into a sitting room filled with moth eaten furniture, the walls covered in peeling, moldy wallpaper. The room on the right was a dining room complete with a long, wooden table, though there were chairs missing. Members of Ardon's pack busied themselves lighting candles in iron holders that jutted from the walls. Soon, everything was cast in a dull, orange glow.

"Ardon, the ladies are waiting in the sitting room," One of his men came forward, dipping his head in a gracious bow. When the man lifted his head, his blonde hair fell over his eyes but not enough to shield the sickening admiration Zara saw there. Shaking her head in disgust, she looked away. They all looked at him the same way. Like he was a hero, a savior. Perhaps they were all brainwashed, maybe that was what it meant to be a part of a pack. Maybe you lost your own identity and you all became exactly the same. Either way, it sounded horrible.

"Thank you," Ardon responded, those his gaze barely touched the other man before he was curling his fingers and beckoning Zara and Ronan to follow him down the corridor past the grand staircase. He led the way into another room, this one much like the first living room they had seen, though the furniture had been replaced. The wallpaper had been stripped, leaving the walls bare and pale. There were three cushy, straight-backed armchairs sitting in the room along with a long ivory colored sofa that while frayed and faded, was not in the worst condition.

The room was not empty of people though, and Zara's felt her entire body tense as she caught sight of two women pacing the stone floors in front of the dusty, unused fire place. Ardon clamped a hand on Ronan's shoulder, digging his fingers into his skin as he steered them towards the women. Zara followed with fearful anticipation, each footfall heavier than the last. The three of them stood side by side in the flickering candle light. Ardon's mood was bright, eyes lit with excitement. It only added to her growing unease. Both women were dressed in long, flowing gowns. The hems teased the floor. One of them flicked her hand and a roaring fire started in the grate behind her. Zara's stomach plummeted. Witches. As they moved closer, Zara saw a thin silver chain in one of the women's hands. She yanked on it and a girl curled in the corner of the room let out a cry of pain before stumbling to her feet. She lifted her head, fearfully looking toward the three newcomers in the room.

Ronan stiffened. "Annika?" he croaked.

Zara's stomach plummeted. The young girl, no older than fifteen, was pulled to stand in front of the witch, giving Zara a perfect view of the dark curls that cascade over her shoulders, tangled and matted. Her face was pale and round, a thin, red cut marring her left cheek. It was the eyes, though, that solidified the fact that this was Annika, Ronan's sister. They were the same deep forest green. Zara's heart ached for the girl who looked like a frightened mouse, trembling and cowering beneath her captor's gaze. She was dressed in what looked like a nightgown, though it was torn and tattered now. Zara noticed the girl was barefoot, her feet almost black with dirt.

"R-R-Ronan?" Her voice shook, the last syllable breaking into a sob. She lurched toward her brother, but was violently jerked back by the chain Zara now saw was wrapped around her ankle.

"Stop it! Please, don't hurt her," Ronan begged, his eyes finally leaving his sister to look at the two witches. "I'm the one you want."

They stood with an heir of regality, as many magic wielders did. Witches often believed themselves to be "chosen ones", above the average human because of their unique ability to control magic. It made Zara want to roll her eyes every time she heard it. It was that idea that had gotten so many of them killed. The one holding Annika's leash had a faded red scar between her eyes. It looked like an X, the mark of a witch who had gone through a witch's trial. Before the kingdoms had begun dispatching clans, villages had often held their own trials, putting men and women to death for dealing in dark magic. How this one had escaped a trial alive and unscathed, she couldn't be sure. Though if all it took was a flick of the hand to start a fire, how hard would it have been to escape from a village?

The witch holding Annika sneered while the other one merely gave Ronan a wicked smile, looking at him like he was a meal. She had long red hair that was braided down her back, and eyes so dark they looked almost black. "Yes you are, aren't you?" She stepped forward and grabbed his chin, roughly tilting his head so he was forced to look down at her. "What a shame too. So handsome."

"Stop playing, Wren," the other one scoffed. Her skin was the color of caramel, clearly young and beautiful, though that could've been an illusion created by magic. Her dark hair fell in thick waves all the way past her waist. She shook her head, finally looking at Ardon. "So, it seems you are true to your word."

Ardon tilted his head to one side. "Don't sound so surprised, Daya." He turned toward Zara and gave her a little push forward. "And would you look at this little gift the Huntsman was kind enough to bring me. Meet my niece, Zara."

Wren, the red-headed witch, stepped back from Ronan reluctantly and gave Zara a once over. "Lucky indeed. Looks like you'll be getting your blood sacrifice after all."

"Are you certain, Ardon? She's much nicer to look at than you," Daya said with a sickly sweet smile.

Zara stood there as rigid as a statue, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the two witches. She was nothing more than a body filled with blood to them, an ingredient for a spell. Annika had started crying softly and Ronan looked tortured, unable to go to her.

"Please, let me see her," he begged again, but he was ignored.

"Now, Daya, is that any way to talk to the man who brought us such a lovely gift?" Wren glanced from Ardon to Ronan. "My, I have dreamed of this. Of listening to you scream while I rip you to pieces for killing our sisters. But I think I'll make you watch me kill your sister first. Fair is fair after all and the punishment certainly fits the crime. But I'll try not to drag it out. After all she did get you here. Like a pretty piece of bait."

Ronan's lips were moving, but he was soundless, though his eyes pleaded with her.

"Let him see her," Zara spoke up. She couldn't take it anymore. It seemed almost worse to keep them a part, to let Ronan be within steps of the one person he loved the most and had spent days searching for. The agony on Annika's face was palpable.

Wren let out a sigh, sauntering back toward Daya and Annika. "What do you think, Daya? Does he deserve that?"

Daya clucked her tongue. "Fine. Perhaps a final reunion will make her demise even more torturous for him to watch."

She released the chain and Annika was scrambling toward her brother. He fell to his knees, hands still bound and unable to sweep her into his arms like Zara was sure he wanted to. Annika clung to him like a wounded animal, fingers clutching at his shirt as she cried into his shoulder. Ronan was mumbling something to her. She couldn't hear the words but his tone was one of forced comfort. Like he was trying to convince her of something he knew to be a complete lie.

Zara turned away from them, looking toward the floor. It seemed incredibly cruel, all of it. Perhaps that was what happened when you held onto a grudge for so long, when you craved vengeance. It grew like a weed in your heart, its roots squeezing out every last bit of humanity until there was nothing left.

"Touching," Ardon said after a moment, sounding bored. "Now, about the spell—"

"We were prepared to do blood magic, not a blood sacrifice. It'll take us the rest of the night to prepare the ingredients before the moon tomorrow," Daya interrupted him.

Ardon frowned at her response, clearly not the one he had been hoping to hear. "Very well. I suggest you leave now to gather what you need. Don't worry, I'll take good care of your... prizes."

Daya's eyes flashed and Zara had a feeling the young witch didn't enjoy taking orders. Wren wrapped a hand around her wrist, though, giving her a warning glance. "Of course. We'll be as quick as we can."

Daya's fingers grew tighter on the chain, turning her fury away from Ardon and toward Annika and Ronan instead. "I think that's enough."

Zara tensed, already anticipating what was going to happen. Her fingers tightened on the chain, ready to yank the young girl away from her brother. Something in Zara snapped before it happened, though, her own rage finally reaching its boiling point. She was tired of being dragged around, of other people dictating where they went, what they did and how they did it. There was no telling what kind of hell Annika had been through over the past few days, and tearing her away from her brother now seemed beyond cruel. No, it was too much.

"Haven't you tortured her enough?" Zara cried out.

The witch paused, annoyance flickering over her face as she slowly turned toward Zara. Her heart clenched, knowing full well what a magic user could do to her without so much as breaking a sweat. Ardon had made it clear these were her last moments, though. She wasn't going to spend them bowing to his every whim, placating and silent.

"Looks like your pet needs a leash of its own," Daya said, gaze flickering from Ardon and then back to Zara. She snapped her fingers and a second thin, delicate looking silver chain appeared in her hands. Her mouth curved into a cold smile. "I don't like being talked back to by a dead girl."

With a flick of her hand, Zara felt her knees suddenly buckle from underneath her. She hit the ground hard, but the pain was the last of her worries as she realize she was stuck. It was like a magnet had been activated beneath the stone floor, rendering her legs frozen to the solid surface. Her shoulders dropped, arms falling motionless to her sides. Panic flared inside her, rushing through her entire body. She tried wiggling her fingers, lifting an arm, bending an elbow, but nothing happened. She was immobile. Like some sort of pliable statue.

"What the hell did you do to her?" It was Ronan, but she couldn't even turn her head to look at him.

"I just made her more compliant. Ardon, you don't mind. Do you?" Daya asked pleasantly, and the wolf king grunted in amusement. The witch then kneeled in front of her, so close that Zara could make out the gold flecks in her otherwise dark eyes. Zara gritted her teeth, biting back a torrent of words. She felt useless, helpless, vulnerable, all the things she hated and tried so hard to never be.

Daya grabbed Zara's hands and began winding the silver chain around the cuffs of her hands. "There, there. It'll all be over for you—"

She didn't finish her sentence. Instead, her eyes were glued on one of Zara's outstretched wrist. Zara's own eyes followed her gaze. Then, she felt a sharp breath escaped her.

"You have been marked by a Nightwalker!" Daya hissed. She looked appalled, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Panic was flowing freely inside, clawing at her as it desperately searched for a way to escape.

"What?" Ardon's voice snapped and he roughly pushed Daya away. Immediately, the spell was broken and Zara pulled away from him, clutching her wrist closer to her chest.

His pale face was a stoic mask, which was almost worse as she had no way of knowing the true depth of the certain rage hiding underneath.

He held up a hand, beckoning with one finger for her to hold out her arm to him. She didn't move at first. Daya muttered something about another spell but Ardon shook his head. "She'll do what I ask if she knows what's good for her."

Zara resisted for a few seconds longer before succumbing to the fact that she knew it was pointless. Eventually, he would force her. So it was with bated breath that she held out her hand to him. She flinched as his fingers wrapped around her forearm, rotating her wrist upwards. His expression seemed to freeze as he spotted the two tiny incisor marks indented into her skin. He seemed entirely too calm, but his grip on her arm tightened painfully. When he looked at her, his eyes flashed dangerously.

"What did you do?" He hissed. "This could not be more than a day or two old."

Zara tightened her lips and stared coldly back at him.

It was with lightning quickness that Ardon had seized her by the front of her cloak and hefted her off the ground. A gasp escaped her lips as he slammed her back against the nearest wall, the toes of her boots barely scraping the floor beneath her feet. She heard Ronan yelling, but could see nothing other than the twisted face of rage in front of her. Her hands automatically clamped around Ardon's wrists tightly. He was inches away now and the seething rage boiling off him was palpable. It made her bones quiver.

"What business do you, of all people, have with one of those filthy bloodsuckers?" He demanded.

"Why should I tell you anything?" She managed to gasp.

His hand moved to curl around her throat, and she felt the air slowly being scraped from her lungs. Her fingernails dug into his skin and she kicked her legs desperately, striking him several times but it seemed to have no effect. "Once again, I fail to see how you have any power here." He growled. It felt like sucking air in through a tiny tube, her lungs slowly starving. "Let me remind you, your use to me has been the only thing keeping you alive. I would love nothing more than to watch you choke to death right now." His voice was eerily calm. Zara's clawing fingers began to still, her head spinning and black dots spotting her vision as she struggled to stay conscious. "What deal did you strike with the Nightwalker? I know it was a blood bond."

He loosened his grip just enough to let her take in a gasping breath. Hate so strong, so pungent filled her to the point where her limbs began to shake. She dug deep inside her for the last reserve of strength she had left, biting, kicking, scratching. Trying to hurt whatever part of him she could reach. Ardon just laughed though, easily slamming her back against the tree trunk. Her head smacked against the wall, making her see stars. He abruptly let go of her throat and she crumpled to the floor.

"Fighting is useless. Give in. What else do you have left?" He asked in a whisper, crouching and leaning close to her ear.

"They're coming for you. The Red Capes. That was the deal." Her voice was hoarse, each word causing a stab of pain as she ripped them from her throat. "They'll kill every last one of you."

Ardon's expression hardened for a moment before he once again smoothed it over and it was as if it never been there. "They will be too late. You and I both know it. By then you, all of you, will be dead."

Beneath all her fury, all her grief and pain, Zara felt only one tiny tendril of cold fear wind its way around her heart. "I will kill you first. I promise you that."

Her chest was heaving up and down, furiously trying to pump oxygen back into her starving lungs. Her head was pounding and it was everything she could do to fight off the blackness threatening the corners of her vision.

Ardon gave her one last smile, cold and full of malice. "Oh my dear, I never put much faith in promises."

He stood then and began to turn away, as if to leave her there, but seemed to think better of it. She looked up at him, hating him with every ounce of her body, sprawled on the floor like nothing more than a rag doll. She barely had time to comprehend before Ardon's boot lifted and he stomped down on her ankle.

The snap echoed in her ears and there was a split second of utter horror as she stared at her twisted ankle. The pain rushed her like a tidal wave, pulling her under and dragging her along with it. She crumbled to the floor, writhing in agony as she curled her hands into fists, fingernails digging into her skin. The screams she was making, they didn't sound like they were coming from her own body, but she knew they were. She wanted to pass out, she wanted to die, she wanted anything to make it stop stop stop.

The entire time, a small, tiny part of her was aware of the wolf king standing over her, stoically watching her pain. Feeding off it. Getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of watching her suffering, because why else would he do this? There were other voices now as she squeezed her eyes shut, dizzy from the pain. Her stomach clenched and she thought she might be sick.

More low voices before a pair of hands grabbed her beneath the armpits and began dragging her across the floor. She twisted and squirmed, her broken leg screaming with pain as it uselessly trailed behind her. Her heart was hammering so fast, so loud, the blood pounding in her ears. Finally, it was too much. Too much. She collapsed, letting her head loll against her chest. She begged for darkness to take her.

Finally, it did.