Shadowstorm (The Shadow World Book 6) (26 page)

“Nico…” She took another step forward and held out a hand. “It’s going to be okay. It’s terrible—I won’t pretend it isn’t. Just…take my hand. You can come home and rest, and we’ll figure all of this out tomorrow.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and she braced herself, but before he or Miranda knew what had happened, he drew a ragged breath and fell to the ground.

She ran to his side, kneeling. There was a dart sticking out of his throat. It wasn’t another one of the little Morningstar specials; it was a more traditional looking syringe dart, about four inches long.

The Queen looked up at Deven. “Did you—”

“Tranquilizer,” he said, looking as shaken as she felt. “Enough to put down an elephant. It’ll only last ninety minutes. We need to get him out of here before more of them come.”

“I don’t think they will,” she said, looking around. “I get the feeling like the humans left here were meant as cannon fodder while the others vanished. Hopefully we can get more information…later.” She was about to call the Elite team in, but something occurred to her: “How did you get here so quickly?”

“I Misted. Chris had the coordinates.”

She’d forgotten most Signets had way more Misting range than she did. David could reach the city from the Haven when he had to, though it took a lot out of him.

She didn’t say any of the hundred things she wanted to; she didn’t want to scare Deven off again. “Elite teams 1 and 2, commence building entry—I want this entire place swept for evidence and then the interior torched. Harlan, I need you here immediately.”

Miranda barely heard the chorus of affirmatives; she was too busy trying to assess Nico’s injuries, and fighting back both sickness and sobs as she did. “I don’t understand why they did this,” she said, tears in her voice that she’d kept at bay talking to her people. “Was it just for fun?”

Deven knelt next to her. She felt him raising healing energy—not along the bond, but via his gift—and pouring it gently into the Elf. The rest of the scars began to disappear rapidly. “I don’t know,” he said. “Look at his ear—they cut it off and reattached it. Most of this looks surgical.”

His hand hovered just over Nico’s face for a moment, so close to touching him, but he withdrew, clenching his lowered hand into a fist.

Miranda let out a breath and forced herself not to remark on it. “They went to a lot of trouble for this. It just doesn’t make sense.”

Near-silent footsteps heralded the arrival of the Elite teams, who all drew up short when they arrived at the scene. The carnage took them all aback, as did both the sight of Nico in such horrible shape and Deven armed.

Miranda rose. “27, 44—get him to the car. The rest of you know what sort of thing the Prime will want to see.”

Because they worked for whom they worked for, all the Elite had evidence bags and a few other tools of that sort. Part of their training included learning the numbering system David used for specimens that would go to Hunter Development or to him. She’d thought it was silly when he first instituted the protocol, but it didn’t take long to see she was wrong.

She stood back as the two warriors she’d indicated gingerly lifted Nico up off the floor and carried him out of the building. She and Deven both followed, neither speaking.

Harlan was waiting in the parking lot. They had to do a bit of maneuvering to get Nico into the car, as he was taller than the seat was long. They ended up with the Elf’s head in Deven’s lap and his feet in Miranda’s, more or less.

She could see a tumult of emotion moving through Deven’s eyes, but again, she held her tongue. It would be too easy to say the wrong thing and make him shrink back into his self-imposed exile. Best just to let him brood until he made a move.

“Miranda.”

A knot in her chest untied itself. “David —are you okay?”

“No. Tell me.”

“I don’t even know how,” she said. “He’s alive, but…it’s bad. I can’t even—”

Suddenly Nico’s entire body twitched, and his eyes flew open, black as hell. He tried to push himself up and at Miranda, teeth already extended, a combination of anger and mindless panic on his face. She threw herself back against the door, crying out, as he fought to get away from them like a cornered wild animal.

Deven’s hands closed around Nico’s throat and hauled him back. He twisted so that he had a knee on Nico’s chest, pinning him solidly to the seat while he produced another tranquilizer dart and jammed it hard into Nico’s neck.

The Elf struggled for a few more seconds, then his muscles went slack.

She and Deven were left staring at each other and panting.

Miranda swallowed hard and said softly into her wrist, “Yeah…it’s bad.”

*****

By the time they had Nico somewhere secure, which turned out to be the reinforced interrogation room they’d built after the explosion during the Council summit, he’d needed another two darts to stay unconscious, and each time fought like a rabid dragon to get free of them.

The room had a window for observation, though it would just look like a wall on the inside. The thought of making him sleep on the floor didn’t sit well with anyone, so the Elite brought in a cot to deposit him on before making as quick a retreat as possible. The Elite were shaken by the situation too; Nico was unfailingly kind to everyone from servant to Signet, and while few really knew him, nearly everyone liked him.

David, who was leaning against Miranda while he regained his strength, watched Kai with unaccustomed sympathy. The Bard stood at the window with his hand against the glass, his eyes shining and periodically brimming with tears he didn’t shed. He looked very young, watching his twin, and said only, “I knew they were doing this. I didn’t feel it, exactly, but…I knew.”

Miranda reached over and squeezed his shoulder but he didn’t seem to notice. They were all a little numb by now.

David stared at Nico for a long time, his heart utterly lost at sea. All he could think was
I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
The words were beyond inadequate. Nico, the most loving person he’d ever met, so past broken there might not be any repairing him…those elegant hands David had felt on his skin, now dyed red…that soft mouth whose kisses he’d fallen into so many times, bloody like the rest of him, some kind of indefinable innocence destroyed. In his sleep Nico couldn’t lay still, and clawed at the blanket draped over him.

The link Stella had created between them still existed, and it wasn’t blocked, but David had pushed himself back from it once he came to. He could feel Nico’s mind affecting his; every few minutes something would twinge in David’s head and he would crave blood so fiercely his canines extended partway, out of his control.

The rage was the hardest part to deal with. It was almost primitive, far too strong for David to wall up like he usually did with such emotions. David knew, watching him, that he wasn’t dreaming of his own torture. He was dreaming of killing.

Stella was with them too, but she had turned away from the window and was crying quietly in the corner.

“Sire,” came a voice. David looked over at the Elite standing a few meters away.

David lifted his chin inquisitively.

“We found this in the building and thought you would want it brought to you right away.” She held up a 12-ounce jar…containing a Signet.

“Give it to Prime Deven,” he said.

The Elite offered her cargo with reverence, bowing as she did. Deven stared at it for a moment before taking it. He unscrewed the lid, lifted the Signet out, and handed back the jar.

She bowed again and disappeared.

Deven held the Signet up where it caught the light…the stone was dark. That wasn’t unusual, really, as when not around its rightful bearer’s neck a Signet usually went dormant, but seeing it like that, almost the perfect symbol of the despair he knew they were all feeling, was insult to injury.

Bowing his head for a moment, Deven stowed the Signet in his pocket. David’s gaze followed his hand and ended on Ghostlight, at her place on the Prime’s hip as if she’d never been removed. Should that feel good, or not? David had no idea. He knew one night didn’t automatically make Deven himself again, but it was a dizzying amount of progress. Somehow Miranda and Kai had gotten to him when it mattered most.

That had to mean Nico could come back. He could entertain no other possibility.

He hadn’t thought they could all hurt any more than they did already.

Finally, Deven said, “All right…I’m going in there. He’s going to wake up in a few minutes. I want to see if I can get a better read on his condition.”

“Are you sure?” Miranda asked. “You’re the one he was angriest at. It might be too soon.”

Deven looked doubtful, and David said, “I’ll go. I wasn’t there tonight, and the last time he saw me was under positive conditions at the show. If he tries to attack I’ll Mist out.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it? You still look awfully peaked.” Miranda looked even more doubtful than Deven.

“I am. It’s fine.” He pulled away from her, squeezing her hand before he completely broke contact, and made his way around the side of the cell to its entrance. He put his hand on the scanner to unlock it.

The air inside the room stank of dried blood and scorched meat. They’d need to arrange a shower for Nico, and soon; the quicker they got that crusted gore off his body the easier it would be to remind him who he actually was.

Inspired, David called for water and soap. It appeared outside the door in minutes.

He carried both over and sat down on the second, empty cot. David knew the others were watching, but he couldn’t think about that—he had to think of what Nico needed right now.

The water was blessedly warm, just the right temperature to scrub blood from skin without leaving it raw. He lifted one of Nico’s hands and began to wash it, at the same time cataloging everything he saw.

Morningstar had, at the very least, broken all his fingers, pulled out his fingernails, and let them grow back. Measuring growth rates, perhaps? Comparing the speed of repair for the bones versus the nails? He kept his touch as light as he could, trying to get as much done as he could before Nico woke. Most of the scars were completely gone by the time he had the skin clean, but he had time to note their locations and likely sources.

How many times will I have to do this for people I love?

One hand, mostly clean; he switched to the other. On that hand a line from the bottom of the index finger made David think they had simply cut off Nico’s thumb and then let it grow back onto the hand. That’s what they’d done with his ear, and thank God they’d let it reattach; Nico wasn’t vain, but Elven ears were such a fundamental part of their appearance that losing one might prove more than Nico could bear. All that was left of the wound was a ridge of skin that might remain, or not; sometimes scar tissue acted oddly in their bodies if the wound was kept open for a long time.

Both hands clean. He moved up to Nico’s neck, and his face, washing and rinsing off the remains of over two dozen men.

The intercom buzzed.
“David,”
Miranda said,
“Kai brought some of his clothes—something simple that won’t be a big tragedy if he ruins it. It’s got to be more comfortable for him than that mess.”

“Agreed.” He waited until the door beeped, and rose quickly to retrieve the armload of fabric Kai had left for him.

He continued to work, continued his inventory. Some of the things they’d done made no sense on the surface unless one knew about forensic pathology…there were only a few uses for an incision like the one on…

David put his head in his hands. He understood.

“What is it, baby?”

He looked up at the window, even though he couldn’t see anything in it. “These lines,” he said. “They’re not random, and not just for pain. They’re very precise and follow a standard method.”

“Method of what?”
Miranda asked.

“Autopsy,” David answered. The word seemed to weigh him down. “On the whole, I…I think they vivisected him.”

He heart Stella retching.

David went back to his work, very lightly pressing on different areas of Nico’s body to see if things were still where they went, and to his disgust…they weren’t.

“Did the Elite destroy all the samples?”

“Yes,”
Miranda said.
“Why?”

“I’m pretty sure the humans removed one of his kidneys. It would have been a fascinating thing to study if they could preserve it — ours are much larger than a human’s, and more complex. Losing one won’t kill him but it’ll make him…permanently delicate.”

He peeled off the foul remains of the clothes Nico had found at his escape, and checked for signs of sexual assault. There were indications that the humans had done…things…but he couldn’t be sure if they were of a sexual nature or just exploratory. The abrasions and raw flesh could have come from either, though generally speaking rape required heightened emotion, particularly rage, and the rest of their work was purely clinical, suggesting detachment. Either way it was a violation…all of this was.

Nico’s chest bore telltale marks besides just the y-incision. He could feel, when he pressed on the bone, that his sternum had been cracked, allowing them access to his chest cavity.

They’d cut him open, chained to a table, without anesthesia, and put their hands into him, reaching in to play around with whatever interesting toys they found inside.

Rage, again. This time David knew it was his own.

He had to fight it down. If it touched Nico, it might wake him, and he needed more time to finish his work. David grounded himself firmly, taking his emotions in hand and shoving them hard behind a shield.

Kai had brought one of the long tunic/loose pants combinations they favored while relaxing; light, with ease of movement, they were equally perfect for a midnight tryst or a week of convalescence. David was quite intimately familiar with how the sides tied up, and left them fairly loose, not wanting Nico to wake up feeling strangled.