Dead Man’s Deal. Jocelynn Drake

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      7

      IT WAS DARK. The world had been reduced to shapes lacking definition so that everything took on a menacing demeanor. My eyes strained, desperately trying to give meaning to my world, but it was useless. Any light that crept into the room was quickly swallowed up in the great maw of blackness that enveloped me.

      I stretched out both hands, determined to use my remaining senses to figure out where I was, how I had gotten there. My fingers hit cold, damp stone. Dirty grit crusted under my fingernails and embedded itself in the fine grooves of my fingers as I slid them along the rough surface. The wall beside me was composed of giant stones, while the floor beneath my feet seemed to be made of the same uneven rock. The room curved slightly, as if it were circular rather than square.

      There was no sound beside the soft scrape of my fingers along the stone wall and the scuff of my feet on the floor. My heart pounded in my ears, frustrating me. Was I alone in this room? Was someone else here, tracking me by my thudding heart and shuffling feet? Would it kill me? Help me?

      Footsteps broke through the silence. I froze, waiting in the stillness as they grew steadily closer. The tread sounded even and familiar. A friend? The footsteps stopped close, followed by the clang of metal on metal and then scraping, like a key turning a rusted lock.

      Light surged into the room, blinding me. I fell back against the wall, throwing my arms up in front of my face to protect myself from the sudden invasion. Shrinking back, I squinted and blinked, willing my eyes to adjust to the brightness rather than stay frozen and helpless.

      “Come along!” snarled an angry voice that chilled the blood in my veins.

      I moved shaking hands from my face, praying that I was wrong, but I wasn’t. Simon Thorn stood in the open doorway, a magical ball of white light hovering above his shoulder. This wasn’t right. Simon was dead. I’d killed him months ago. Simon had to be dead.

      But if Simon was dead and trapped in the underworld, did this mean I had died as well? Had I passed during the night, called by Lilith to pay the year I owed magic for killing Simon? I couldn’t be dead. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and the cold seeping from the stones through my thin shirt. I wouldn’t feel these things if I was dead, right? Was I dreaming? Remembering? Both?

      In the bright light, I stared down at my hands to find them smaller than I remembered. My arms and body were smaller and thinner, while Simon was taller. It all seemed wrong, but my mind kept stumbling as if the wheels in my brain were slipping as they tried to puzzle out this problem.

      “Now, boy, or I’ll drag you by your hair,” Simon said, pulling me from my internal struggles.

      As if willed by some unknown force, my body obeyed his command and I pushed away from the wall. On shaky legs, I crossed the small stone cell and followed my mentor down the long, narrow hall marked by other heavy doors in front of silent rooms. There were others behind those thick doors, huddled in the darkness, cold and wounded.

      At the end of the hall, we turned left and walked down a wider hall until we came to a large circular room. There was more light here, created by torches and little balls of magical light. A pair of witches and a warlock stood near the back of the room, silent and grim. I stopped just past the threshold and looked around, taking in the bleak gray walls. This room was familiar, creating a cold chill in my mind. I’d been here before and it hadn’t been a pleasant place.

      Simon roughly grabbed my shoulder, his thin fingers biting through the ragged cloth of my shirt to pinch muscles and nerves. “Get in there,” the warlock said. He gave me a hard shove and I fell into the shallow circular pit in the center of the room. My knees hit the hard compact dirt, sending a sharp pain down to the bone.

      Placing my hands against the dirt floor, I pushed back to my feet and my eyes fell on Bryce. Oh God. Now I remembered why this place seemed so familiar. The young boy lay on his side, his breathing ragged as the air slipped between split lips in short, quick gasps. Dirt and blood crusted his face. His clothes had been taken away, revealing an all-too-thin frame covered in ugly bruises and long, festering cuts. Pain glazed his eyes, making me wonder if he was aware of where he was and that I was near him.

      I backpedaled until my back slammed into the wall of the dueling pit. Turning, I looked up at Simon. My hands were on the chest-high rim, ready to climb out of the arena. I couldn’t do it. I knew why I was here and I couldn’t do it.

      Simon stepped directly in front of me, blocking my escape. “This is your third and final chance to finish this. You kill him and we will move on with your training, or we will keep him alive indefinitely, locked in constant pain. Kill him or I kill you.” Placing his foot on my shoulder, the warlock shoved me backward, away from the wall and into the center of the pit.

      I stumbled, but managed to stay on my feet. Swallowing back the bile in my throat, I looked down at the wounded apprentice again. Three days ago, Bryce and I had been placed in the dueling pit. We had both been learning curses used in fighting, and our mentors had decided that the best way to prove we were proficient was a duel to the death. I won the duel, but refused to kill Bryce. I had been locked in a cell, while Bryce had been beaten and tortured as they waited for me to submit to their wishes.

      Shaking my head, I tried to backpedal again when I heard Bryce give a little whimper. His head moved so that he was now looking up at me. Pain cut heavy lines through his young face, sweat glistened on his brow. His lips moved, forming the words Help me but he lacked the strength to put sound to it. There was only one way to help him, to remove the pain and the fear.

      My hands were trembling when I raised them, gathering together the energy I needed. I kept repeating in my head that if I did it quickly, Bryce wouldn’t feel more pain, he wouldn’t have a chance to be afraid.

      “No!” Simon’s harsh СКАЧАТЬ