“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” the guy seethed. He was holding back anger. I knew the feeling.
“Of course you do,” Saint Dane said jovially. “When you entered the flume, you did not come here. That much I know for certain.”
I grabbed Patrick’s arm. What was Saint Dane talking about? Who were these guys?
“I’m not sure how you ended up here,” Saint Dane continued. “Obviously it was before the flumes were destroyed. That is of no interest to me. What I want to know is where you were sent when you first entered the flume. Is that so much to ask?”
My heart raced. These guys weren’t Travelers. But who were they? My heart leaped. Was it possible? Could these guys be the very people we were looking for? Were they some of the enemies of Ravinia who were sent into exile? I was excited and terrified at the same time. Excited that we may have found them. Terrified because Saint Dane had found them too.
“So tell me, my friend,” Saint Dane said to the man on his knees. “All I need is a word. The name of a territory. Where is it that you ended up when you entered the flume? Tell me and your suffering will end.”
“All right,” the guy wheezed. “I’ll tell you.”
I saw the other victims tense up. The Ravinian guards held them tight.
“Wonderful,” Saint Dane exclaimed.
“Come closer,” the guy said with a raspy voice.
Saint Dane walked up to the guy and towered over him.
The guy whispered something so softly that I couldn’t hear. Neither did Saint Dane, for he bent over to get closer. When Saint Dane was down on the same level as his prisoner, the guy spit in his face. Even from where we were, I could see that there was more blood than saliva. Saint Dane didn’t flinch. The Ravinians started to pull the guy back, but Saint Dane held up his hand.
“Leave him be,” he said calmly.
The demon got right back in the guy’s face. He didn’t even wipe off the blood and spit that dribbled off his chin. He locked eyes with the poor guy. I knew what that felt like. The guy was in serious trouble.
“I will kill your three friends first,” Saint Dane said icily. “It will be slow. It will be painful. I will break their bones with my own hands, starting with their feet and working my way up their spines. They will bleed. The best they can hope for is that the pain will cause them to pass out, for drowning in your own blood is a horrible way to die. Is that the fate you wish to condemn them to? The choice is yours, my bold friend.”
The guy didn’t look away from Saint Dane, though I felt his fear. He wasn’t being bold; he was desperately trying to hold on to his sanity. He started to whimper. His body shook as he was overcome by emotion. Still, he didn’t break eye contact with Saint Dane.
“Tell me,” Saint Dane said with mock kindness. “Tell me. The truth will be your salvation.”
Finally, in a haunted voice that seemed to come from a tortured place, the guy muttered the single word that Saint Dane was looking for.
”Cloral.”
“Cloral?” Saint Dane repeated.
The guy nodded and dropped his head in defeat.
The other three prisoners seemed to deflate.
Saint Dane allowed himself a small smile. He backed away. Then, with one quick movement he grabbed the long silver weapon from one of the Ravinian guards and pointed it at his victim.
“No!” Nevva shouted.
The prisoner let out an anguished cry.
Saint Dane didn’t react to either of them.
Paf!
The sound of an electric charge cut through the room as the weapon fired a deadly charge. The two Ravinian guards backed off quickly, so as not to be burned. The prisoner tried to dive away, but it was too late. A moment later he was a cinder. As with the guy we saw under the Eiffel Tower, the victim’s body became a thin tower of ash that dangled in the air for an impossible second, then fell to the ground in a heap of black soot.
Patrick let out a small, pained gasp.
My head spun. Saint Dane had killed the man with no more thought or remorse than if he had swatted a fly.
“Kill them all,” he commanded while casually tossing the weapon aside. It clattered onto the tiled floor, its deadly work complete. Saint Dane strode for the stairs that led up to the throne, his mission accomplished.
“You can’t,” Nevva called after him.
Saint Dane slowly turned back to her.
“Why is that? I am keeping my promise. I told him that their suffering would be over. His most certainly is, and theirs will be as well.”
“I’m just saying that there may be another way,” she said, regaining her icy composure. For a second I thought I actually sensed compassion from Nevva. It didn’t last long.
“There is no other way, Nevva dear,” Saint Dane said patiently. “They must die. They must all die. As distasteful as that may be to you, it is the only way that we will-”
He stopped himself in midsentence. His eyes flashed. He was suddenly on alert. He looked up, his eyes scanning everywhere and nowhere, as if trying to make sense of what he was feeling.
“What is the matter?” Nevva asked.
Saint Dane held his hand up to quiet her. He looked around, as if confused.
“Impossible,” he said aloud, but it seemed more like he was talking to himself.
Something was wrong. Something he hadn’t expected. There were very few times that I had seen Saint Dane thrown. He always had every angle figured. Every move was calculated, planned for, and anticipated. Not this time. Whatever was bothering him, it had come as a complete surprise. This might be going too far, but in that moment Saint Dane seemed nervous.
I was pretty sure I knew why.
“Get back to Solara,” I whispered to Patrick. “Tell Uncle Press everything you saw.”
Patrick’s eyes were wild. “What are you going to do?” he whispered back.
“I’m going to shake things up a little.”
I knew what Saint Dane was sensing. I knew why he was confused. He thought I was done. He thought we were done. He was wrong, and that’s what he was sensing. He felt our presence. I figured I might as well confirm things for him.
“Pendragon, don’t-,” Patrick warned.
I stepped out from behind the pillar into the light.
“Man, that suit is just wicked cool!” I called out.
Saint Dane spun toward me. I was right. I was the last person he expected to see wandering into his palace.
“Hi, Nevva,” I said casually. “You guys get your hair done at the same place? Cute. Love the outfit, too. You’ve got a kinda retro, sixties Star Trek thing going on.”
Nevva opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. They both looked as if they’d seen a ghost. Maybe they had. Since the moment I’d let Alexander Naymeer fall from the helicopter, I had seen the impossible. I had learned more truths about Halla, Saint Dane, and myself than I could have imagined. I can’t say that I was at peace with any of it. At least, not yet. Most of the news that Uncle Press had given us about the struggle against Saint Dane was bad. Our backs were to the wall. We were running out of time and opportunity. We all knew that this was our last stand. Up until that moment I had been moving forward semi-numb, going through the paces. It all seemed so futile.
Until that moment.
I saw fear in Saint Dane’s eyes.
That told me we may have been down to our last chance, but it was a good chance. He feared us. He feared me. My confidence soared.
This really wasn’t over.
Chapter 12
Every eye in the place was on me. I’m sure that the Ravinian guards and their prisoners had no idea who this wiseass intruder was. You’d think they would have jumped me, but they were waiting for orders from their boss.
The order didn’t come. Saint Dane stood there with his mouth hanging open. It was awesome. This might be a weird thing to say, but I was enjoying myself. I felt for the first time in, well, the first time ever, that I was one step ahead of him. I had to make sure that I stayed there. I strolled around the circle, acting all nonchalant, looking at the opulent surroundings.