He didn’t say that, in that case, Marguerite was the most likely target, since she was the one with
a dozen accounts at banks and merchant guilds across the region. He didn’t need to.
On that note, they settled into glum silence, and not even Shane’s arm around her shoulders could warm Marguerite at all.
SHANE DIDN’T KNOW how many hours passed before someone came. Candles burned down and were replaced, but from what he could see, they were mostly candle ends. Their guard had a chair and a crossbow and the ennui that descends on all prison guards regardless of their fundamental decency as human beings. He didn’t move, but by the way he jerked occasionally, Shane was pretty sure he was sleeping with his eyes open.
Unfortunately there was no obvious means of escape. Despite having read many novels where the heroes cleverly snag the keys from a sleeping guard by means of braided rope and concealed hooks, Shane had failed to absorb what to do when the guard wasn’t the one carrying the keys. The cell door hinges were old, and he and Wren could almost certainly have smashed their way out, but that would cause a great deal of noise and unless they knocked the door down on the first hit, the guard would wake up and get at least one shot off, at nearly point-blank range, directly into the cell.
Given what they were facing, Shane would almost have been willing to try it, except that there was a second archer stationed up a short flight of steps, who would also get at least one shot off, and who had already proved their lethal accuracy. There was a good chance that both he and Wren would be shot. With the battle tide, that might or might not matter. Shane had once fought most of a battle with an arrow lodged in his thigh, but a headshot kills the berserk and the sane alike.
And then we fight our way through a keep we don’t know, having made enough noise to let everyone know we’re escaping, and the demon finds us anyway and decides to stop toying with us and do…whatever it’s going to do.
No, the wisest thing to do was to wait until they were moved and hope for an opportunity. If not to escape, at least for a clean death.
Actually, the wisest thing to do is probably to strangle each other right now and spare our souls.
He was considering this depressing thought when footsteps rang on the stairs and the creature that called itself Wisdom entered the prison block, followed by Erlick and another archer.
Shane scrambled to his feet, dislodging Marguerite. Wisdom waved one hand. “No need to rise.
I’m not royalty.”
“I’m glad to see you,” Marguerite lied. “I hope you’ve considered what we said. This is all a—”
“Misunderstanding, I know.” The demon’s voice shaded with amusement, just as a human’s would. Shane wondered if it was doing so consciously, or if the creature had lived in a human body so long that it was second nature. Neither option was particularly comforting. “You’ve said. I’m afraid I don’t actually care why you’re here. The question is what to do with you now that you are.”
Marguerite’s gaze flicked to Shane, but he had no answer for her.
“I suppose I could have you all killed,” Wisdom said. “But that would be a dreadful waste, don’t you think?”
“Yes?” offered Davith hopefully.
“That was what humans call a rhetorical question.”
“Sorry.”
Erlick’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker at the word human. Shane had been wondering if they knew that their leader was a demon. Apparently they did. Dreaming God have mercy, it really is a cult.
He’d fought cults before. They died by swords like anyone else, but absent that, there was usually only one way to stop them. Take out the leader, however you can.
He took a deep breath and reached for the voice. It welled up in his throat, power and calm and ultimate authority, and it rolled out like the tolling of a great iron bell.
“Kneel,” he ordered the demon.
Wisdom faltered. For just a moment, he thought that it might have worked, that perhaps this one time, the Dreaming God’s power might be within his reach.
It put a hand on the bars and looked at him, and then it smiled. Alien intelligence flickered behind the host’s eyes.
“You first, paladin,” the demon said.
“Let the big one out of the cell,” Wisdom said, nodding to the guard.
“What if I don’t choose to come with you?” asked Shane.
Two archers stepped forward, bows drawn. The demon let out a very human sigh. “There are at least a dozen things that I could threaten your friends with that will force you to obey me. I know it.
You know it. Must we really go through the motions?”
Shane swallowed. He did not want to accommodate a demon. Once you agreed to anything, no matter how innocuous, you were on a slope that wasn’t just slippery, it was glazed with ice.
On the other hand, it was right.
He looked at Marguerite, who shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid she’s negotiating from a position of strength here.” Wisdom chuckled softly.
It would probably try to possess him. Whether or not it could succeed, he truly did not know. He was, most likely, going to his death. But if nothing else, it would be forced to kill him well away from the others, and however long that took was time they might use to work up a plan.
I must keep it focused on me for as long as possible. Whatever that takes.
“Wren,” he said, lowering his head, “it’s your responsibility now.”
Wren gulped, knowing what he didn’t say aloud. She rushed forward, hugged him fiercely, and then turned away, straightening her shoulders.
And if I come back with a demon behind my eyes, sister, I hope that you will be able to kill me
quickly.
And then, because he was going to die or worse and all his fears no longer mattered, he turned to Marguerite, put his hand beneath her chin, and kissed her.
Perhaps it would have been wiser not to. If it knew that he loved her, the demon could control him using Marguerite. But it could control him using Wren as well, and in Shane’s heart of hearts, he could not believe that anyone looking at him could not tell that he was in love. Surely it was branded across his face for all the world to see.
It was not the time or place for a passionate kiss, but he put as much of that love into it as he had to give. Marguerite’s fingers curled around his wrists as she responded.
He heard, faintly, the sound of the guard saying something, but Wisdom’s voice was sharper overriding it. “Let the man say his goodbyes as he wishes, Erlick. We’re not monsters.”
And then, reluctantly, he felt the end come. He stepped back and let his hand slip away from her cheek. Marguerite blinked up at him, then turned away, wiping at her eyes.
“Brother—” Wren barreled into him and he caught her reflexively.
“Take care of them,” he whispered, and kissed her on top of the head. She clung to him tight enough to make his ribs creak, but he ignored the stab of pain. “I have to go.”
“Dammit,” she said, her face against the dusty fabric of his tabard. “Oh, dammit all to hell.”
“I know.”
She let him go and she too turned away, scrubbing angrily at her face. Shane nodded to Davith, who grimaced, then stepped up to the door and let the guards lead him away.