The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(20)

Aeron thought they would have better luck figuring out a way to patch the charred, tattered remains of his soul when he killed those women. And even that seemed hopeless.

As it was, they sat in silence for a long while, minds churning with options. Or rather, lack of them. Finally Aeron gave a shake of his head and felt as if he had just welcomed a new demon inside him. Doom.

Sometime during the endless night, Ashlyn stood and felt her way around the cramped cell. Her ankle throbbed with every step, a reminder of the hours she'd spent climbing the snowcapped mountains outside and the sense of hope she'd lost with six swings of a sword.

Her search for a way out had proved fruitless. There was no window like the one in Rapunzel's tower, no wicked witch's magic mirror to walk through. Nor had she found any bars to squeeze through or tunnels to burrow into like Alice. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost her cell phone. Not that she could get reception in the dungeon of a castle.

As time ticked by, the darkness seemed to close tighter and tighter around her.

The mice had stopped squeaking, at least.

She just wanted to go home, she thought, once again huddling on the floor. She wanted to forget this entire experience. She could live with the voices now. She would live with them. Trying to silence them had cost her too much. Her job, perhaps. Her lifelong friendship with McIntosh, maybe. A piece of her sanity, definitely.

She would never be the same.

Maddox's lifeless face would haunt her, waking and asleep, for the rest of her life. Oh God. Tears streamed down her cheeks, chilling with the cold. How many would she shed before the ducts dried completely? Before the ache in her chest faded?

Please, just let me go, a voice babbled. Please. I swear. I'll never return.

Me, too, she thought miserably.

"Have you been here all night, woman?"

A moment passed, the question unanswered as Ashlyn oriented herself. That voice... she would swear it came from the present, not the past. The rough, booming sound of it echoed in her ears.

"Answer me, Ashlyn."

Another moment passed before she realized it was the voice that had come to haunt her above all others. A voice that was somehow imprinted in her mind, even though she'd only heard it a few times before. She gasped, eyes straining through the darkness, searching...searching...but finding nothing.

"Ashlyn. Answer me."

"M-Maddox?" No, surely not. It had to be a trick.

"Answer the question."

Suddenly a door was opened and rays of light flooded the cell. Ashlyn blinked against the orange-gold spots clouding her vision. A man stood in the doorway, a tall, black shadow of menace and muscle.

Sweet silence - silence she'd only encountered once before - enveloped her.

She flattened her palms against the wall behind her and inched to a stand. Shock pounded through her and her knees wobbled. He wasn't... He couldn't be... This wasn't possible. Wasn't even fathomable. Only in fairy tales did something like this happen.

"Answer me," the man said yet again. There was violence in his tone now, as if he spoke with two voices. Both dark, thick and thunderous.

She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound emerged. That double voice was guttural, turbulent and yet sensual beyond her wildest dreams. Maddox. She hadn't been mistaken. Shivering, she wiped at her tearstained cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I don't understand," she breathed. Am I dreaming?

Maddox - no, the man, for he couldn't possibly be Maddox, no matter how similar the voices - stepped into the cell. His attention jerked to the side, away from her, as if he needed a moment to compose himself.

Golden rays of sunlight danced over him, reverently caressing his beautiful face. Same dark eyebrows, same thickly lashed violet eyes. Same blade of a nose and lush lips.

How could this be? How had her captors produced the exact likeness of the man she'd met last night, down to that same feral edge? A man who stopped the voices of the past with his mere presence?

A twin?

Her eyes widened. A twin. Of course. Finally, something made sense. "They killed your brother," she blurted out. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he was glad. But maybe, just maybe, he'd take her into town and she could report the horrendous crime she'd witnessed. Justice could be served.

"I do not have a brother," he said. "Not by blood."

"But... but..." Maddox will be fine, the gorgeous man had said. She shook her head. Impossible. She'd watched him die. But an angel could have been resurrected, right? A hard lump formed in her throat. The men of this household were most definitely not angels, no matter what the townspeople claimed.

His gaze swept back to her, down her body in a possessive appraisal and up again. He scowled. "Did they leave you here all night?" Countenance darker by the second, he scanned the rest of the cell. "Tell me they gave you blankets and water and only removed them this morning."

Shaking still, she smoothed a hand over her face and through her hair, wincing at the tangles she encountered. Dirt probably caked her from head to toe. Like that matters. "Who are you? What are you?"

For a long while, he didn't speak. Just studied her as though she were a bug under a microscope. She knew that look well. It was a favorite of everyone at the Institute. "You know who I am."

"But you can't be him," she insisted, not wanting to accept the other alternative. He was not like the others, the demons who had slain him. "My Maddox is dead."