The Darkest Touch

The storm broke, revealing the temper she’d lauded.

“I’m going to kill you,” she screamed. “Kill you so dead.” The bars of her cage rattled with increasing fervor. “You’ll experience agony in ways you’ve never dreamed possible, for I will do to you what I’ve done to so many others. I will skin you with a cheese grater and stuff your organs into a blender to make a smoothie. I will donkey punch your skull so hard your brain will ooze out of your eye sockets.”

“I...don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Don’t worry. Soon I’ll cut out your tongue and use it as a cleaning rag—you’ll never have to respond to anyone ever again!” A rock skidded into his cell...the first of an avalanche, rage and grief giving her the strength that centuries of imprisonment had surely stolen.

I’m wrecked. He’d robbed this woman of her best and only friend, leaving her with nothing but pain and misery.

Story of my life.

He wished his next deed would kill him but knew it would only make him wish he’d died. Any wound he received damaged his resistance to the demon and thereby his own immunity, allowing Disease to rise up and infect him. At least for a little while. Still. Torin did as he’d imagined. He clawed his way into his chest, scooped out his heart...and rolled it into Keeley’s cell.

CHAPTER TWO

KEELEY WASN’T SURE how many days or weeks had passed since the warrior had offered his still-beating heart as a macabre gift the darkest parts of her had actually appreciated. All she knew was that he’d spent the next however long moaning in agony and, if she had to guess, coughing up pieces of his lungs.

Sickened by his own demon? Deserved.

And while his suffering had dulled the sharpest edges of her rage, she still planned to kill him. I won’t forget. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.

“It’s the right thing to do. Don’t you agree, Wilson?” she asked the rock that liked to watch her every move.

He remained silent, always silent. Cold-shoulder treatment was his specialty.

She wasn’t upset by his attitude. They’d never really gotten along.

“I had plans to free Mari, you know. I only needed time. Just another few weeks, in fact.” Or months. Maybe years. Time had ceased to exist. But Mari hadn’t cared about herself—she’d cared only about Keeley.

The girl had known what Keeley was doing to herself day after day. Well, maybe known wasn’t the right word. She’d suspected. And she had hated the thought of Keeley in any kind of pain. So Mari, sweet Mari, had decided to act, to take Cronus up on his suicidal offer and procure Keeley’s release the only way she could. Despite Keeley’s protests.

“Cronus didn’t even keep up his end of the bargain,” she explained to Wilson. Mari had died upholding hers, and yet Keeley had not been freed.

Hatred burrowed deep inside her, taking root in the darkness of her soul and feeding on the rich soil of her bitterness. So much to do. First she would take care of Torin. Then she would do to the king of the Titans what she’d once done to Prometheus, who wasn’t the good guy everyone thought. He hadn’t blessed the world with fire. How laughable. But he had tried to engulf every inch of it in flames.

“But I punished him, didn’t I?” She laughed with maniacal glee. “I cut out his liver every time it regenerated and fed it to a flock of birds.” Day after day...year after year.

Zeus, of course, had taken credit for the deed. But not this time.

I am the Red Queen. The entire world will learn of me at long last—and fear.

“Soon,” she said.

Wilson might have snorted.

“You’ll see.” Keeley huddled in the corner of her cell, stabbing the lower part of her arm with the rock she’d sharpened into a shiv. Blood poured from the throbbing wound, and spiderwebs of black drifted through her vision. Still she pressed on, cutting harder, going deeper.

Experienced far worse than this.

Like losing Mari...the only ray of sunshine in a life as black as pitch.

“Mari always offered comfort rather than censure. Not once did she say a cruel word to me.” Keeley pointed the bloody shiv at Wilson, adding, “But you...oh, you. Don’t even think about denying the fact that the only thing you’ve ever given me is grief.”

The bastard smirked at her.

“You have always mocked me, but she constantly fed me. I can’t count the number of rodents she tossed to me.” How many people shared so selflessly, giving away the only meal they were likely to find, knowing they would eventually starve? None!

Was it any wonder a literal bond had formed between them, tying them together?

But then, such bonds were the lifeblood of Keeley’s people, the Curators. Or, as other races liked to call them, the Parasites. The bonds were imperceptible to the naked eye and, like mystical tentacles, latched on to others with or without approval to syphon strength...and whatever else the person on the other end had to offer.

The more bonds Keeley procured, the more power she wielded and the more control she had over that power. But she had to be careful. Bonds worked both ways. She took, but she also gave.

It was never fun to have her own strength used against her.

“But the bond failed to help Mari, didn’t it.” And now it couldn’t.

Keeley’s rage returned and redoubled. She screeched, dropping the shiv. Captivity had long since whittled away her humanity, and she suspected that had never been more apparent as she stood and ripped hunks of rock from the walls, until nothing remained of her fingernails. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.