Page 1 of Heir of Broken Souls (HOBF #3)

Chapter 1

Delilah

“H e’s going to reward us well for her, brother,” a deep, gravelly voice hisses as I begin to stir.

My right finger twitches, only for pain to barrel down the length of my arm.

Something is wrapped around my wrists so tightly the blood has stopped flowing to them. A quick flinch of my toes confirms my legs are bound, too.

I try to open my eyes but the moment I do, the golden hue of a fire burns them, sending stars through my eyelids until I squeeze them shut again. Stars seem to occupy my mind as well because…

Everything is a blur.

The hissing voice across from me is a blur.

How I ended up restrained is a blur.

And why I can feel thick liquid dripping down the back of my head is all a blur.

“I wish I could tear her limb from limb,” another deep voice growls, the acid in its words making my body lock up. “Make her pay for what she did to our sister.”

Hounds.

The word slams through my mind, flying through the misty fog. Suddenly, my magic flares within my chest, writhing and stirring as it rises as quick as a snake. Clenching my teeth, it takes everything in me to shove my magic away and down.

If it could curse at me, it would do just that, but the hounds can’t know I’m awake. Not yet, especially as they whisper to one another under their breaths.

Idiotic fools.

Don’t they know Fae have the best hearing in all of Aloriah?

“Why is he taking so long?” the second voice grumbles again. “We’ve been hunting her day and night for two months, and once we have her, he doesn’t arrive?”

“You know he’s busy.”

A derisive snort rings throughout the space. “Busy pissing on her precious little treehouse.” The sound of a slithering tongue makes my stomach roil. “I don’t understand why he occupies such a wasteless space.”

“Everything he does is to torment her.” I can hear the smile in its voice as it drawls, “I can’t say I blame him.”

The treehouse?

Are they talking about…

Memories assault me, one after the other, as everything my body has been subjected to surfaces. The moment I foolishly separated from Knox as we were searching the grounds of the abandoned library, hoping to find something after searching it countless other times to no avail.

It was for that very reason I let my guard down, despite all that took place there two months ago. It was why I was shocked when a doorway suddenly appeared before me, one filled with a crimson hue—the same crimson that is no doubt sliding down the back of my head from the blow they gave me before they sank their talons into my fighting leathers and pulled me through.

For two months, warriors and Fae alike have adorned similar leathers, sliding them on like a second skin day in and day out as they pray for protection—as they pray to live another day.

The leathers have never offered such a thing.

Knox is probably beside himself. Except the bridge between our minds is utterly quiet.

I wish I could say this is the first time they’ve captured me. Aloriah, I fear, has seen more death in the passing weeks than in all its lifetime. All because of a power-hungry man named Peter.

These pesky hounds have been tracking me constantly, forcing Knox to place spells and shields around my scent, although the prick of the branch that scratched my neck as I entered the dark, forgotten library no doubt broke through the spell.

Gods, how foolish of me.

Too much is bombarding my mind. The worry of what exactly will happen to me once these hounds hand me over to the dark lord. How Knox is faring. The memories of the day Peter Bartholomew Covington marched tens of thousands of demonic creatures to the border between humans and Fae and declared war. The same day he took something irreplaceable from us—Ace.

Knox?

The bridge remains quiet but the river rages below, the only sign of Knox’s emotional turmoil.

Gods, he’s going to have words with me when he finds me.

The golden magic within my sternum stirs again, banging along the confines I’ve kept it in for months. I know it’s begging to help, but I can’t allow it, not when every time I give it the reins it threatens to consume me to a point of no return. I can’t trust my magic to not sweep me away.

Gritting my teeth, I try my wrists again, only for my body to freeze as a low snarl rings out. Not in a warning but a promise of harm.

I slowly lift my head from its uncomfortable position. I’m in a cave, bound to a chair, a firepit burning between myself and the two hounds that are now sneering at me.

“Didn’t your mothers ever tell you frowning causes wrinkles?”

They blink furiously. They didn’t expect that, it seems. What, were they were waiting for me to wake screaming and begging for mercy? I’m no longer afraid, of them, of anyone. Because no amount of pain will ever compare to all I’ve lost.

The hounds move toward me, utterly unaware of the demise that’s about to occur. You’d think they would learn their lesson about ropes—and how the only thing that can bind us is iron.

A saccharine smile stretches across my lips as I snap the rope wrapped around my wrist in a blink, earning a deep rumbling growl from the hounds. One snaps their razor-sharp teeth at me while the other hisses, their snake-like tongue darting out.

I kick my feet out to the side, snapping the ropes around my ankles. A sudden pain draws my attention, and for the first time I notice a blade embedded deep within my right thigh, crimson blood pooling from the wound. Wrapping my hand around the handle, I pull it out in one fluid motion, ignoring the way my blood flies in all directions.

The hounds’ eyes narrow as I stand, knocking the chair backward.

“No one ever taught you not to leave a weapon with your captor, either.”

One hound launches at me. With its jaw unhinging wide enough to snap down on my neck, I spin at the last moment and it crashes into the cave wall behind me. Not allowing it a moment to recover, I strike out, the small blade dripping with my blood now embedded in its leathery black neck.

The high-pitched wail that fills the cave makes my ears ring. I pull the blade out again, bringing with it a chunk of the hound's neck. A low hiss comes at my back.

I turn, finding the other hound leaping over the fire with a log, one end of it wrapped in cloth alight with an orange flame. The heat of the flame slicks my skin as I veer left, then right, and before I know it I’m sliding along the cave floor, the blade in my hand dripping with black blood as thick as oil as I swipe its back heel.

The screech that it lets out as it falls to its knees is music to my ears.

A smile taunts my lips, until pain explodes along my back, a burning hot fire from the hound’s jagged claws. Its hot, rancid breath puffs along my cheek, assaulting my nose.

“That got your attention, you golden bitch.”

My gaze hardens as I try everything within my power not to succumb to the pain. I gasp, short and measured, terrified if I breathe too deeply its sharp claws will puncture a lung.

“You’ll pay for every drop of blood you’ve spilled of our kind, you fucking whore.”

“Whore is a new one,” I wheeze, wincing as it twists its hand inside me.

“That’s what you’ll be when we’re through with you,” it hisses low in my ear.

At the revolting sound of its chortling laugh, I catapult my head backwards into its face. My vision flares with white-hot light, and my wound that had slowed gushes once more, but the hound screams. It rips its claw from my back, pulling a mangled cry from my lips. Despite the pain, satisfaction sizzles through my veins as the hound retreats a few steps to try and stop the flow of black blood pouring from the two slits in its face where its nose should be.

Its companion takes one look at the blood and roars with such ferocity I quickly scramble backwards, squinting through my swaying vision for the blade I dropped in my haste. “You fucking whore !”

The hound, whose head I smashed, lunges for its friend to stop its attack. “He specifically ordered us to keep her alive .”

“We’ll say it was an accident.”

I can’t help but snort. “Like he’ll believe that.”

Their eyes narrow into slits. “Accidents happen all the time. People fall and snap their necks, they trip and land on blades?—”

“Fae who don’t know how to fly tumble off cliffs and die,” the hound with the healing neck drawls.

That’s a first.

With the order to keep me alive, they never do any real harm, but the vengeance pooling in their dark eyes has me stepping backwards. They sniff the air, smirks dancing along their leathery faces.

“That is what we drink, child. Fear . And we have been waiting months to taste it from your blood.”

Wind suddenly encases the small cave, shadows plunging it into darkness. I would know this magic even with my eyes closed. It is everything the hounds are not. It is pure, it is kind, and it is wise.

The hounds move to launch across the space, that order to leave me unharmed suddenly forgotten in their haste to kill me before what’s to come, but they’re too late.

“Lucky for me, I’m not a mindless sheep controlled by a raging lunatic.” The voice drops several octaves as he purrs, “And I have no orders to keep you alive.”

The hounds whirl as a tall, menacing Fae warrior, strapped with blades and steel, steps through the darkness of his own shadows, with such a wicked smile my heart soars.

“Do give Peter my love,” Knox says a moment before he swings his blade.

The hounds’ heads fly, black blood spraying the cave and dousing the flames, plunging Knox and me into utter darkness. A hand lands on my arm, making me jump before I realize the warmth of the hand has my heart settling.

“Shh,” Knox eases. “It’s just me.”

“Took your time,” I can’t help but quip.

Knox brushes his hands over the back of my neck, a blue light flaring to life in the cave, illuminating the hounds’ bodies as they begin to twitch. I frown despite the relief flooding my body as Knox heals me.

“A thank you will suffice,” he says, ignoring my jab.

I scoff, but mumble under my breath, “Thank you.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” Knox coos, moving his healing light to my back. He quickly wraps an arm around my waist as the pain leaving me makes my knees buckle. “I must say, that’s one of the sincerest apologies I’ve ever received.”

I snort and elbow him. “Don’t be sarcastic, it doesn’t look good on you.”

“I thought that was part of the charm that made you fall for me.”

“That and your confidence. Do tell me, how does it feel to be so full of yourself?”

Now it’s Knox’s turn to snort as the blue light fades. “Feels fantastic,” he says dryly as he clicks his fingers, igniting the fire again. “How are you feeling? It took me longer to track you this time. This cave system is endless.”

“Where did they take me this time?”

“The aerial island.”

My eyes widen and I whisper, “Is it still occupied by the Phookas?”

“Most likely,” Knox says, but he doesn’t seem to care much for the danger lurking within the tunnels. Instead, he bends and drags a twitching hound into the fire.

I cup my hand over my mouth, coughing and sputtering at the rancid smell. “They’re stirring faster than normal,” I point out, the demonic creatures already beginning the somewhat lengthy process of reincarnating from whatever world they return to after dying in Aloriah.

“The king must have been watching somehow to summon them so quickly.”

I shake my head, remembering what the hounds said as I roused. “He’s not near here. The hounds mentioned he’s hiding at the treehouse.”

Knox stumbles to a stop, whipping his head to me. “And you only think to tell me this now?”

“I was a little preoccupied,” I deadpan.

Knox hums, already moving past his annoyance that I didn’t tell him sooner. “Why the treehouse?” he muses.

“To tarnish my memories of it even more than he already has?” I shrug, watching as the flames eat away at the hounds’ skin. “He thinks it still means something to me. It does, but not what it used to. The cottage holds more of Easton now.” And he couldn’t possibly know about that one. Emory, a brilliantly wicked spell cleaver who also helped me with the spell that saved the Fae, placed it under a mountain of concealment magic.

The king hiding out in the treehouse is another one of his many chess moves, one that he no doubt was hoping would strike my heart. Little does he know that nothing is left of the old Delilah. She died the moment Ace was decapitated and Hazel stood beside the enemy.

Knox drags the other hound into the pit of fire, his face pensive as a thousand thoughts flit through his ocean blue eyes. Yet not one of those emotions contain an ounce of empathy for the creature as it goes up in flames.

They and their kind have killed thousands of Fae and creatures in our lands over the past weeks. I wish for them all to perish and they will, one by one. I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life killing them as the king summons them back the moment they die.

I will leave a path of destruction until the day it leads me to him.

Then the true torture can begin.