Shadowdance(132)

“Mary.” He gave her a gentle shake, but she remained silent and staring. Her eyes void of life. “Merrily, wake up. Wake up.”

Still nothing.

“Fuck.” Tearing at his flesh, Jack held his wrist over her parted lips. Blood poured into her mouth, but it merely ran over her lips and down her cheek. She was gone.

He’d destroyed everyone who had hurt him. And it meant nothing. Not without her.

Mary. She’d died for him.





Chapter Thirty-Six





She was in Nowhere. Mary would rather call it Hell. Attached as she was to Amaros’s soul, she had known she would be dragged with him. It was not a physical place, but one of spirit. No fields of ice or lakes of fire. There was simply sensation and reflection. Every deed, experience, regret, every small secret part of her soul reflected back at her. She felt it all magnified to such a degree that her soul yearned to shatter, if only to end the overwhelming barrage of emotions.

Hell indeed. But for Amaros it was agony.

The instant they entered Nowhere, his terror and suffering rippled through her like the recoil of a gun. But while Hell wanted him, began to feed on his soul with greedy pulls, it seemed to know this was not Mary’s place. Their souls divided once more. And she was cast out of Nowhere.

With dizzying speed she hurtled through the dark void and then slammed into her body with so much force that she lurched upward.

Air rushed into her lungs on a great gasp. Her eyes focused. Jack Talent scowled down at her.

And wasn’t that a lovely sight.

His blazing green gaze traveled over her face, and then, with a sob, he hauled her close. “Piss and shit and buggering, bloody, fucking hell, Mary. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

He buried his face in her hair as his thick arms tightened around her, and his ribald litany continued.

She snuggled in closer, letting him curse, letting him pet and kiss her. Because Jack Talent, in all his imperfect glory, made her perfectly happy.

Something stirred from without. Holly could feel it as much as she heard it. So could her fellow prisoners. The quick, clipped sound of the approaching footsteps sounded nothing like those of her jailers. And though every inch of her was battered, she hauled herself to her feet and pressed her face to the bars of her cell, straining to see what she could.

Across the way a pair of dark, glittering eyes peered out from behind thick glass. Watching. Waiting.

Holly looked away. At her side Thorne lay still and quiet. Too quiet. Were it not for the slow, even breaths he took every few seconds, she’d have believed he was dead.

At the turn of the lock upon the outer doors, her icy fingers gripped the bars tighter.

As if flowing on a wave, the sound of her fellow prisoners beginning to move filled the cellar. Locks clattered, a man’s murmur of reassurance following. A giddy sort of hope grew within Holly. And then he was there. Jack Talent. Holly reared back, her nerves destroyed.

“Easy now,” he said softly. “You’re safe.” As if he knew exactly how frayed and open she felt. He glanced at Thorne and horror darkened his face. Uttering a ripe curse, he opened the door and hurried to him.

Then Mary Chase appeared. On a sob Holly flew into her friend’s arms, and Mary held her fast.

“It’s all over now, dearest.”

Mary and Holly went to help with Thorne when a commotion broke out in the cell across the way. A violent darkness swarmed there, and the unsuspecting man who’d been opening the glass cell leapt back with a yelp as a hundred spiders scurried past and out the door.





Chapter Thirty-Seven





Mary woke to find the space next to her empty. Cool, rumpled sheets told her that Jack had been gone for some time. Pushing her hair back from her face, she sat up, and the sound of crinkling paper alerted her to his note.

In true Jack Talent fashion, it was brief, though the words were surprisingly formal.


I apologize for my absence. I had to see about a matter of great importance. Would you do me the honor of meeting me at headquarters at four o’clock?

Yours,

J


Mary let the note fall to the bed. What matter was so very important that he could not wake her?

Her curiosity stirred higher when, having dressed and ventured downstairs, she encountered Jack’s day housekeeper, who brought her a fine breakfast and news that Mr. Talent had sent for a few of Mary’s gowns in order that she be properly attired. Indeed?

She was still perturbed, hours later, when she arrived at headquarters wearing her best day dress—for Jack had only selected her most formal gowns—a sleek creation with a pale-bronze silk bodice and overskirt and a rippling underskirt of deep, luscious wine satin.

Her trepidation only heightened when Inspector Lane met her instead of Jack. Where was the blasted man?