Keeper(90)

I shook my head, fighting back tears. “I can’t.”

Behind me, Maggie whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. The amulet felt like a fifty-

pound weight around my neck. “I can’t do that.”

The Master sneered at me, his eyes flashing.

“My lord,” a voice called out. “Perhaps I may be of some service.”

The Guard who had retrieved the Grimoire stepped forward.

“Yes.” The Master’s face relaxed back into a grin. “Oh, yes,” he crooned, “I think you shall.” He waved his arm forward. “Proceed, sir.”

The Guard walked forward and bowed mockingly at the waist to me. “My lady,” he said, something oddly familiar in his tone. “The Master is a benevolent man, and you try his patience.”

“Benevolent, my ass.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. A tiny spark of amusement bubbled under my skin as the crowd gasped and murmured.

The Guard laughed out loud, but it was a cold laugh. “Give the Master what he seeks and no harm will come to you.” He stepped closer and said so only I could hear, “Unlock the Grimoire, you stupid girl.”

Everything within me was screaming in warning, but I stood my ground, refusing to say a word.

The Guard chuckled again and then looked to the Master, who nodded. His eyes were full of light, and he looked very much like a child who has received a present. I tasted bile again.

“Very well.” The Guard moved closer to me and slowly removed the mask he wore from his face.

Gareth.

I cried out, clamping a hand over my mouth to stop the sound.

The look in his eyes told me the answer, confirmed what I already knew in my heart to be true. My Gareth, the man who had raised me, the man who had always made me feel safe and loved, was not the same man that stood in front of me. This man’s face was severe, his features hard, his eyes dead and unfeeling.

“Gareth?” I finally whispered, not wanting to believe what was in front of me. “What happened to you?”

Gareth smiled, a cruel smile, and bowed again. “Compliments of the Master, my lady.” The words were a knife to my heart.

Lainey.

Josephine appeared, standing a few feet away, tears streaming down her face. As our eyes met, it hit me: those exact words, the look in Gareth’s eyes. I’d seen it all before. Henry.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from screaming.

“Are you . . .” Every ounce of courage left in me evaporated, and I began to shake, a torrent of emotions rushing over me. “Are you dead?” My voice cracked on the last word and swallowed hard, nearly choking on the panic and tears that were forming.

“It appears we Fae aren’t as strong as we seem,” Gareth replied coolly. “We break fairly easily given the right amount of . . . encouragement.” He grinned.

“Oh, allow me,” the Master said. He snapped his fingers, and then, with a blinding flash of light, the world split open.

At first there was nothing but darkness and haze, but when the perspective shifted, images and figures shot before my eyes, moving so quickly they seemed to blur.

I could still feel the Master’s eyes trained on me, could tell I was still standing in the ballroom, but I was lost in a sea of swirling color—blind except for the flashes he was sending through me.

A swirl took shape, and Gareth stood before me with his back pressed against a brick wall, three of the Master’s men surrounding him. Blood poured down the side of his face, and he was weaponless, but his face twisted in rage and determination as he launched himself at the Guards. He fought like a man with nothing to lose, though I could see his strength was failing. “Lainey,” he said, seconds before they overcame him.

I opened my mouth to scream his name, but before I could even squeak out a syllable, the flash was gone, replaced by a new frame: Gareth, bent and broken, lying on the floor of what looked like some kind of holding cell.

“You will tell me what you know.” A voice, strong and melodious, ripped through the air. My body jerked, reacting to the voice: the Master.

Gareth winced as he tried to move, to sit up. His movements were jerky as though he were fighting against invisible restraints. His face was a swollen mask of blue and black, and blood poured from a wound in his shoulder, but I could tell that it was neither of these that was paining him enough to move like that. He smiled, his teeth coated crimson. “Go to hell,” he spat, and blood splattered the floor.

“Bravery only gets you so far,” the Master fired back, laced with fury. “I guess we’ll have to see how brave you really are.”

Gareth’s body began to twitch and arch violently. His limbs contorted and twisted while his face was a picture of pure agony. As he began to scream, I felt my knees give way and I cried out for him through the haze of colors. “Gareth! Gareth!” It was no use, though. He couldn’t hear me. Instead I watched the man who raised me endure more suffering than I could possibly imagine for one reason only: me.

The terrible wail of his screams punched a hole in my chest, and tears rolled down my cheeks as the scene faded away.

The Master released me, and I doubled over, covering my ears with my hands, desperate for the echo of the screams to end. I was trembling violently, and every cell in my body seemed at war with the images that flashed through my mind like a movie on repeat.