The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(91)

The reminder of the years they'd spent together didn't soften her. "Let me go. Please." Droplets of water trickled into her mouth, droplets that were fused with dirt and she didn't want to think about what else. Grains scratched at her gums. "What did you do to the men, the warriors? Where are the other women?"

"I'll answer your questions in good time, Ashlyn. Right now, I want you to answer mine. Okay?" He coughed again. At least he sounded reasonable. Not like the crazy fanatic she'd encountered in the fortress.

She shivered in cold. "Okay." But then she could say no more, voices crashing into her mind. She stiffened.

She thought she heard McIntosh sigh, thought she heard him utter, "I see you're in no shape to answer questions now. I'll be back when the voices quiet." She thought she heard footsteps, the bars slam shut. And then she heard only the voices.

There were so many, so many. Prisoners, killers, murderers, thieves. Rapists. Oh God. A man was raping another man, and the victim was screaming in pain and humiliation.

"Maddox," she whimpered. Her hands were locked together by those cold metal links, so she couldn't even cover her ears. So loud, so loud, so loud. "Maddox." His image formed in her mind, strong, determined. His violet eyes were tender, his lips soft from kissing her. Dark hair hung over his forehead.

I'm here, he mouthed. I'm here. I will protect you always.

Instantly the voices slowed, quieted. They didn't vanish completely, but they were no longer debilitating. She blinked in surprise. How? That had never happened before. Was Maddox close by?

His face shimmered, faded as hope swelled inside her chest. As his image vanished, however, the voices grew louder. Louder. Eyes widening, she pictured him again. Again, the voices slowed. Again, they became manageable.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, she would have grinned. I can control it on my own. I can control it! The knowledge was astounding. Amazing. Wondrous. No more hiding away. No more avoiding heavily populated areas. No more!

Uh, Darrow. Hate to be the downer at this party, but you're trapped. With a hunter. Remember?

As if hearing her internal dialogue, a voice chuckled gleefully. I know how to escape. You want in on the action or do you want to stay in this shithole? All we gotta do is a little digging.

The man from the past wasn't talking to her, but to another prisoner. Their conversation caught her attention, causing her ears to twitch. Never releasing Maddox's image, she listened to instructions about exactly where to go. Soon she was grinning.

"Thank you," she whispered when the voices stopped their chatter.

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome," a new voice said. Present, not past.

Smile collapsing, she narrowed her gaze and searched the cell. She was alone, yet something... thickened the air. Hummed with power and energy. "Who's there?"

"You want to know how to break a curse or what?" A woman's voice. A declaration, not truly an inquiry. "I thought I heard you asking about that before."

Ashlyn felt a tingle of heat trail from one shoulder to the other, as if someone ran a fingertip over her skin. Then a warm breeze danced in front of her. Still she didn't see anything. Whatever she was dealing with, she knew it wasn't human. An immortal? One of Maddox's gods?

"Yes," she answered on a trembling breath. "I did."

"Cool. I can totally help with that."

Cool? Totally? From a potential goddess? Where were the thous and thys? "Will you help me escape, too?"

"One thing at a time, kitten." Something shimmered in the corner, then long white hair came into view. Next she saw a tall woman with the body of a supermodel - a body clad in a red crop-top and a black skirt so short it barely covered the line of her panties. Tall, inky boots. Then, finally, a face materialized and Ashlyn found herself beholding the incarnation of loveliness. Features so perfect, so sublime and majestic they could only belong to a god. "Your friend, captor, whatever, mentioned fairy tales, yes?"

Had delusion set in or was this woman for real? "Yes."

"So you already have the answer. Think about the stories." Frown. A lick of a bright pink lollipop. "What did they teach you?"

Real enough for me, Ashlyn thought. "To search for a prince?"

"Ick. Wrong. Think, girlie. I want to get back."

Back to where? What was this being's name? And why was she here, helping?

"I said think, and babe, you don't look like you're thinking. You're sizing me up. You want a piece or something?"

Of her? "No. Of course not."

A shrug. "Then I suggest you get to it."

Okay, okay. Thinking... It was hard to recall story details when the need to escape weighed so heavily, but somehow she managed it. The prince in Sleeping Beauty fought through thorns and fire to slay the dragon and save his woman. In Maid Maleen, the princess dug through the walls of the tower she had been locked in for seven years, her determination to live and find her prince giving her strength. In The Six Swans, the princess gave up her voice for six years to set her brothers free from a terrible curse.

Ashlyn had always sighed over those stories, had tucked them deep in her heart to remember when she was alone. She had always secretly wanted a prince to gallop into the Institute and sweep her onto his white steed, riding off into the sunset to a land untainted by old voices. He never had. And that had been for the best, because she'd learned to rely on herself.