Лори Девоти - Unbound

Something flicked against Kara’s hair. She bit her lip, refusing to look for the cause. She was fine. She was on her way to finding Kelly. Better she didn’t know right now the complete reality of her situation.

Ahead a translucent wall blocked their path. Her companions began hissing and speaking in some language she couldn’t understand, but based on the tightening of their grip, she guessed they were excited.

The one on her left released her to step forward. Her other captor’s twin beams shone ahead revealing the back of a bald head, and what appeared to be a normal if somewhat short-legged and slim form.

Kara let out a puff of air. Not so bad.

The captor in front pulled a stick from his black jump-suit and swung it into the doorway like a gong, three times. His body swayed side to side with the motion. He paused for a second, his arm dropping slightly, then pulled back and repeated the process twice more.

There was no answering sound, but vibrations of what Kara now recognized as power pounded against her, making it impossible for her to breathe or even think.

As the last vibration faded away, the wall thinned and her captor shoved her forward, through the opening.

She fell, landing on her knees in a room much wider than the hallway, but curved and with the same rounded walls. She glanced up, startled to see a blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds overhead. Had she gone through yet another portal?

Her guards shuffled forward, only their feet visible to her from this angle.

“Stand her up,” a voice boomed.

Kara was jerked from behind, landing on unsteady legs. Upright, she could see she was still in some kind of hall, but more what she imagined from a medieval castle than the tube she’d just walked through.

Fine rugs covered stone floors, and tapestries depicting dragons and large serpents devouring unsuspecting knights adorned the walls. And the ceiling…she peered at it…still appeared to be the sky on a warm summer day.

Shrugging off a sense of surreality, she searched the long room for the source of the voice.

Far in the back, stretched out on a bed of pillows, lounged a giant of a man. “Bring her forward,” he yelled.

One of her companions prodded her from behind. Squaring her shoulders, Kara walked toward the man she assumed was Jormun. He was entirely hairless — from his bald head to his face to the V of skin exposed by his voluminous shirt.

“Far enough.” He held up one hand, rings on every finger. He studied her for a second, then reached into a basket to retrieve something alive and wiggling. “Report,” he ordered, then dropped the hapless animal into his wide-open mouth, swallowing it whole.

Kara’s stomach flopped. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose, the thick moist air offering her no sense of calm.

When she opened her eyes, one of her guards had left her side and now kneeled next to Jormun. He gestured and nodded, then following Jormun’s gaze, turned to look back at Kara.

Kara’s heart slowed, her mouth going dry. Her captors weren’t odd-looking humans. They were…She licked her lips. Snakes. Humanoid, but still snakes.

Two giant yellow eyes shone back at her, and as the creature talked more with Jormun, his slitted tongue flicked in and out of his mouth. His skin was white, but too white, and with a greenish cast. Long body, short legs and arms — like a science experiment gone terribly wrong.

The guard still lurking behind her gave her a tiny shove. Kara turned her head, giving herself a glimpse of him, too. The hair on the back of her neck flew up and a shudder shook her body. Same eyes, same tongue.

Swallowing the bile that had crept to the back of her throat, she placed one foot in front of the other and trudged toward Jormun.

“Twins?” Jormun lurched upright, his eyes filled with interest.

The snake-man beside him hissed something in reply.

“Good. Good.” Jormun motioned for Kara to come closer. “How are your powers, witch?”

A drip of perspiration fell into Kara’s eye. She blinked, refusing to be demeaned by raising her bound hands.

Jormun rested his meaty arms on his bent knees, his gaze glued to her face. “Bring her closer.” He motioned with one hand.

The snake-men nudged her in the back of her knees until she crumpled forward, her hands in front of her keeping her face from colliding with the stone floor.

As she struggled to right herself, Jormun grabbed her chin with strong fingers and tilted her face up. “Amazing,” he muttered, his gaze meeting hers.

Clapping his hands together, he leaned back. “She’s perfect. Take her to her sister.”

Kara’s heart leaped. Kelly. Kara had done it. She’d found Kelly.

The snake-men shuffled forward, bodies bent and stubby arms ready to tug her to her feet.

Not waiting for them to touch her, Kara hopped up and held out her hands.

Part one was accomplished. Now she just had to get her and her sister out of here. She squeezed her eyes against the image of the burned witch she’d seen at the morgue.

They might not have much time.

Risk stood on the doorstep of the Guardian’s Keep, Lusse beside him, her cape flapping in the wind. The witch held up her hand to adjust the bottom of her white leather glove.

“Is this it?” She raised a brow. “Really, garm take no pride in their surroundings, do they?” Huffing out a breath, she jerked the door open, leaving Risk to follow behind.

The garm stood leaning against the mirrored back of the bar. At their appearance, one eyebrow shot up.

“Back so soon?”

Risk glanced around. Two men seated near the door watched them with undisguised interest. Risk bared his teeth, turning their interest quickly back to their drinks.

Three tables were occupied, but neither the troll he’d met outside nor the thief who’d transported Kara were present. Just as well. Risk was not in the mood for renewing old acquaintances. Once he was sure no one in the room posed a threat, he replied to the garm. “I’ve brought the toll.”

“Her?” The garm shot Lusse a disbelieving look. The witch stood feet apart, hands on her hips, obviously assessing the other occupants.

“Her,” Risk replied.

The garm paused for a second, then shrugged. “Fine. Bring her over.” He walked from behind the bar to stand by a doorway, two thin straps in his hand.

Risk walked to Lusse, then gestured toward the garm.

With a bored sigh, she sauntered to the doorway. “This is the garm?” she asked, her gaze roaming over the bartender’s muscled body.

The garm crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed.

“You here alone, garm?” she asked.

The bartender glanced at Risk. “You ready?”

Risk nodded, the hair on his arms rising. Lusse stood with her hands still on her hips, studying the garm the way a cat studies a mouse.

“What powers do you have?” she asked.

The garm passed a questioning glance to Risk. “She your toll or not?”

Risk placed a gentle pressure on Lusse’s elbow, urging her forward. She turned her head with an annoyed snap, but moved closer to the doorway.

“She has to wear these.” The garm held the thin straps over his open palms.

Lusse laughed. “Jormun’s idea?”

Ignoring her, the garm twisted a strap into a circle and leaned forward to slip it over Lusse’s wrist.

She stepped backward, pulling her hunting horn from inside her cloak. “Lovely bauble, though it is. I don’t think so.”

Before Risk or the garm could react, she tipped the horn to her lips and blew.

The air around Risk began to shimmer.

The garm vaulted over the bar, reappearing with a silver bar in his hand, just as five hellhounds in human form shimmered to solidity behind Lusse.