20. Owen

Muffled laughter woke Owen from deep sleep. The first thing he saw was the dark beams of the ceiling. Then the events of the evening flooded back: of fighting Rem, being drugged in the washroom and dragged away. For a moment, he thought it had been a dream, until he found his hands bound so tightly in front of him, he could barely spread his fingers apart.

He winced as he sat up on a bed. The room was dark except for a candle on the bedside table and a curtained window that cut the moonlight into narrow ribbons across the room.

"You're awake," came a smooth voice. "Good. For a moment, I thought I had given you too many drugs. You Astrans are good at repelling it. Figuring out the right dosage is, you could say, an art."

Rem sat in the corner, his outline barely visible. Even now, Owen couldn't get a grasp on the man's energy.

"Where are we?" Owen asked.

"At one of Mr. Kingsland's taverns."

Owen looked down. He was fully dressed, but his dagger was gone. He glared at Rem. Had he been watching him sleep?

"Don't look at me like that. You nearly killed my employer. And whatever he tells me to do, I do it."

Quinnby's alive?

Owen winced. "What do you want?"

Rem cocked his head in the shadows of the candlelight. "If I had it my way, Owen, I would have wanted to buy you that drink in Ivormor."

A chill came over Owen, making him clench his teeth and look away from the man twice his age. He knew all along that Rem had desired him, and now his admission made Owen more tense.

"If it's any consolation, I wouldn't have taken it." Owen forced himself to glare at the man again.

The smile that crept over Rem's lips made Owen's stomach drop. "It's of no concern to me whether you would have taken it or not. A hunter gets to know his prey before he springs. He watches, calculates, waiting for the right moment to strike." Rem stood from his chair and came around the bed, his boots thudding against the floor. His shadow fell over Owen, making him shrink. Rem grabbed Owen's chin and yanked it upward. "Mr. Kingsland isn't as patient of a man as I am. He likes to play with his prey before he strikes. But me… I like to watch my prey, see what he'll do, if he'll bite, if he'll run and keep playing the game. It's all part of the fun." He caressed Owen's cheek with the back of his gloved hand.

Owen jerked away from his grasp and pushed him back. "You're sick," he sneered.

Rem grabbed Owen's shirt collar and pulled him up to his feet, and Owen saw several red marks on the right side of Rem's face. The fire Owen had blasted him with hadn't been enough to disfigure him, but it had been enough to leave blisters.

"I let you live, and I'm sick? I had a cart waiting for your arrival outside the catacombs, as you saw. Did you not think I'd keep my word?"

"Keep your word? You meant for us to be Cleansed! Gilda and I. You beat Colt and Brom. Yet you thought we wouldn't fight back?"

The curious look in Rem's eyes made Owen's stomach twist. "I knew you would fight, but I didn't think you'd nearly kill Mr. Kingsland. The hunt was only supposed to last within the tunnels, but you took it further."

Owen's nostrils flared as he glared up at Rem, trying to shrug the man's hold off him. "You planned on killing Brom. His bag wasn't there."

Rem smiled slowly. "You're a smart boy. One I would love to have as part of my group."

"I'd never join you," Owen hissed.

A snarl appeared on Rem's lips. He checked the ties on Owen's wrists. "Let's go see Mr. Kingsland."

Rem pulled him out of the room, and his legs trembled as they came into a loud mess hall where men ate and drank. Owen dropped his face away from the sudden light in the smoky room. He swallowed hard as a few men sneered at him. Several of them patted Rem on the back while others shouted a victory roar. Passing the bar, they came through a lone door.

After being shoved inside, Owen looked up with wide eyes as he found Quinnby Kingsland sitting with two half-dressed women on a sofa. Behind them sat a four-poster bed and an armoire.

Quinnby raised an eyebrow when he saw them, then dismissed the two women, and two of Quinnby's Hunters took watch at the door. Owen glanced at the four men in the room: Rem with his firearm, the other two at the door, and Quinnby, probably with his Core. He was outnumbered again, tied up, groggy, and alone.

Getting to his feet, Quinnby squared his eyes in on Rem. "He's bound tight?"

"Yes," Rem said, keeping a hard grip around Owen's arm.

Quinnby turned to cough violently into his arm. When he was done, his face was more pale. "Excuse me," he said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. "A bit of an issue that arose after you tried to kill me."

Owen's blood boiled at the mention.

"You're frightening," Quinnby chuckled. "My gods, who would have thought all that power could come from someone so…" He stopped himself, cocking his head. "No, I don't want to set you off. Not again. Rem here seems to be fine, though, despite you nearly scorching him to death. I have to say, I'm quite envious of your Essence."

Owen glared at the tall, thin man before him as he thought of a way to escape. With his hands bound, he wasn't sure if he could manage to use his Essence at all.

"You've got to stop looking at me like that," Quinnby said sternly. He nodded at Rem. "Sit him down."

Rem pushed Owen forward and sat him on the cushioned sofa, then handed over Owen's dagger to Quinnby, who tossed it onto a table behind them without a second glance.

Quinnby stood in front of him, his hands in his trouser pockets as he looked down at Owen. "You know, I could either take you all the way back to my manor or we could hang out here for a while. What do you think?"

Owen opened his mouth but said nothing.

"You aren't making this easy on me. It's your decision, after all."

"You already know what you're going to do with me," Owen said. "Just be done with it."

"Why? So you can try and kill me again?"

"You tried to kill me!"

"No, I was only going to Cleanse you," Quinnby mused. "I was going to spare you, but you attacked me before I got the chance."

"You deserved it." Owen realized he no longer felt guilt at thinking he had killed this man before.

Quinnby bent down to Owen's level, his face inches away. "You killed several of my men in your escape," he said, eyes wide. "Their heads bashed against the walls, blood gushing from their open skulls, one with a broken neck. Did they deserve it?"

"Yes." He trembled, knowing well that it was a lie.

Quinnby pulled away and popped his back, then breathed in deeply. He looked at Rem and smiled. "I'm keeping calm. See how I'm keeping calm?" When Rem only stared, Quinnby licked his lips and looked back at Owen. "You're not an amoral soul. I could tell that just by looking at you. You wouldn't have stopped when you did with me otherwise. You wouldn't have kept on until I exploded from the inside. It's just not in you to torture, to thirst for blood."

Owen could feel Rem's eyes on him, watching as he caressed the handle of the firearm at his belt.

Quinnby moved to an end table and picked up a crystal decanter, then he poured himself a glass of the golden liquid and downed it in one gulp. He made a face, then turned back around. "I'm willing to look past all this, of course. I know you have friends on their way to find you. That's fine, but they won't be doing themselves any favors by coming here. Because should they arrive, we'll kill them for good." He pulled out the small silver Core from his pouch and cast his dark eyes in Owen's direction. "It craves more Essence."

Owen's heart pounded, and he tried to wiggle his hands free from his binds, but Quinnby came forward and clasped them tightly, making sure Owen didn't do so much as even move his fingers.

"Now, calm down. You knew this would happen. I hear it's much better to Cleanse first, then kill. Ensures the power stays intact, and it's proper etiquette." Quinnby looked at Rem. "Where's my Cleansing chest?"

Rem made his way to the armoire and opened the doors, where he pulled out a small, brown box with roses painted on it. When Owen glowered at him, Rem met his eyes.

He saw my purple fire. He has to know I'm more than just Astran.

"Open it up."

Rem did as Quinnby demanded and opened the box. Inside was a sharp knife and a vial.

"We can do this here, but depending on your cooperation, it could get a little messy. I'm sure the owner won't mind, seeing as the tavern belongs to me." He chuckled lightly at his own jest until it faded into a sigh, then his face turned serious. "Get him up."

One of the Hunters from the door grabbed Owen and forced him to the wide open space between the sofa and the bed. When the other Hunter pulled the rug back, Owen's eyes widened as he took in the designs painted in white on the floor.

Owen struggled, jamming his elbow into the larger man's side. He tried to loosen his binds enough to use his Essence, but it was still too difficult.

"Stop struggling," Quinnby demanded. "This works better if you sit still."

"I should have killed you!" Owen spat.

Rem kicked the backs of Owen's legs, and Owen landed on the floor with a grunt.

"Your mouth is going to end up making this much worse." Quinnby bent down before him with the knife in his hand. He grabbed a fistful of Owen's hair and yanked his head back, making Owen seethe in pain. "Now, this will only hurt a little. I just need to fill the vial with your blood." He ran the knife along Owen's cheek. "They can hold you down, or you can cooperate."

Out of instinct, Owen spat in Quinnby's face. He took in ragged breaths as his body quivered with anger. He had to summon his power somehow.

Quinnby stilled and ran a hand down his face, wiping off the saliva. His eyes widened as anger took over his features, as if no one had ever dared to do such a thing to him before. With a loud growl, he took the Core in his hand and rammed it across Owen's jaw.

The impact sent a sharp pain through Owen's face as he flew to the floor once again. He groaned as blood filled his mouth. He swished the metallic taste around as something hard caught on his tongue, and he spit out a tooth. Shaking, he brought the sleeve of his arm up to his mouth, catching the blood as it flowed from his exposed gum.

"Damn, that was a good punch!" Quinnby laughed and picked up the tooth. "Forget the blood, this will do just fine. As long as it"s something from you."

Owen whimpered as the pain surged through his mouth. He slipped his tongue between the space where his upper canine had been and drew it back with a wince.

"So, where's this big bad power of yours?" Quinnby placed the tooth in the vial. He chuckled, but it turned into a harsh cough against his arm. "I'm a bit disappointed. I was hoping you'd grab me again and show me what you're made of, Astran. Guess you're not really that powerful after all. Perhaps it's only when the right buttons are pushed. What a shame."

Owen grit his teeth so hard, the pain radiated across the left side of his jaw. He had to come up with a plan. He wasn't about to go through this ritual again just to reveal to them who he truly was.

The window.

One of the Hunters left the room, while the other locked the door and stood in front of it, blocking it. If Owen could just try and use his hands and eliminate him…

He turned his attention away from Quinnby and focused his mind. When he felt for Quinnby's energy, a whisper carried on the air for his ears only. The shadow man appeared behind Quinnby, and Owen blinked, but no one could see the spirit but him.

"You can use your Essence, Owen," the shadow man said. "You need only look at your enemies and unleash your fury upon them." The spirit disappeared, and Owen was left on his own once again.

His eyes widened. Could he really do such a thing?

As Quinnby took out a small book from the box, ready to read from it for the ritual, Owen stood to his feet. Turning his attention to Rem, he focused on the firearm now held in the man's hand. He allowed his Essence to run through his body, but rather than releasing it from his hands, he released it from his mind. Within seconds, the firearm shook, until he forced Rem to aim the weapon at the Hunter guarding the door.

"No!" the man shouted, but Owen forced Rem's finger down on the trigger, and when he did, a loud shot rang out, making Rem stagger back into the wall.

Quinnby jumped, covering his face with his arms. On the floor, the slain man lay still, blood gushing from a wound in his chest.

"Rem, what the fuck?" Quinnby held out his arms.

With Quinnby's back turned, Owen glared at him. Power pulsed from him, sending Quinnby flying back into an end table. Rem pointed the firearm at him, but Owen caught hold of it. He stared intently at Rem, then he began to pull the man forward by using his mind alone.

Rem struggled, trying to both move back and pry his hand away from the firearm. The room grew dim, and the shadows deepened, as if something sinister was in their midst. Owen's ears rushed with blood so loud that he couldn't hear Rem shouting at him.

"Every soul you take bleeds back to me."

The voice that spoke to Owen was deep and commanding, but it didn't belong to anyone else in the room. Did it belong to the shadow man, or was it something else? Had Owen attracted another entity? He quivered as a deep hatred fell over him.

"They are part of the sacrifice."

Gritting his teeth, Owen closed his eyes. He didn't hear the next shot from the firearm. He only knew that he had turned Rem around to shoot Quinnby. When the man's rotten energy cut off from him, he knew the man was dead.

That left only Rem. One glare at the man, and he was under Owen's spell again, but something in the connection broke, and Owen gasped. He couldn't hold onto Rem for much longer, as his Essence was draining. After using the bulk of his energy, it was as if someone suddenly pushed him off a cliff, and he landed hard, his Essence knocked from him like a breath of air. He saw black spots over his eyes for a moment, and his head felt faint.

Without his hold over Rem, the man coughed and sputtered. Had Owen been choking him? He looked at the floorboards stained with dark blood, and the rush in his ears faded as he could once again hear the sounds of alarm rising from the mess hall. Someone was shouting in the distance, and then someone pounded on the locked door.

Spotting his dagger on the table near the wall, Owen rushed for it as his head cleared. If he could line it up against his binds, he could free his hands and use his Essence better. But with his Essence still fatigued, he wouldn't have enough time to release his binds and summon his energy. Instead, Owen brought up his leg and slipped the dagger into his boot before heading for the window. But Rem caught his leg and tripped him to the floor, and Owen landed with a thud.

Groaning, he looked up to see Rem on his feet, his eyes ablaze with fury. Owen tried to build up his Essence, but Rem crouched over him from behind and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

"You don't know when to quit," Rem hissed. "You may have killed him, but I'm not afraid of you. I want to hunt you, Owen. It's turning out to be a fine chase, and it's so thrilling, I can't contain myself."

Owen's energy bubbled up inside him, but it reached only a simmer. He let out a panicked breath, gritting his teeth as Rem's lips came close to his ear. He jabbed his elbow into the man to get away, but Rem held his head down, bearing his weight against him.

"Get off me!" Owen seethed. "I'll kill you too!"

"I've been granted protection in the name of the dark one." Rem shoved Owen's face against the floor, making him grimace. "He who seeks release will grace those who worship him. I already know what you are, Shadowborn. I can help you. Amias is no longer here to aid you, but I can be your mentor. Just you and me."

The door shook as someone pushed against it, and then the wood splintered. "What's going on in there?" a man called.

When Rem eased off him, Owen managed to reach over and bite Rem's arm so hard, he drew blood. Rem cried out and pushed Owen away.

Now free, Owen scrambled to his feet. Spinning around, he spread his fingers enough to release the purple fire from the tips. Staring at Rem, he unleashed a powerful burst of air toward the man. It was enough to ignite most of the room, and now that Owen could feel its heat, he scrambled to the window. Bringing up his leg, he kicked the glass in with his boot and struggled out, pieces of glass and wood tearing at his legs, shoulder, and face.

He fell to the ground with a thud that almost knocked the wind from him, but he scrambled up and ran into the trees.

"Run, little rabbit. I will find you."

Owen whirled around, his eyes widening as he took in Rem's form in the window, watching as he ran. He made his way through the forest of trees, the voices of men fading with every step. Faint moonlight streamed through the branches, aiding his way as he stumbled through brush and over roots.

Then a familiar bark came close to him. Gasping, Owen turned around and put his bound hands up as Clove ran for him. But rather than use his Essence on the wolf, he only spoke to her.

"Clove," he breathed, his heart pounding.

The wolf stopped and growled at him, her teeth baring and her fur bristling.

"It's alright. I won't hurt you."

Her body loosened, and then she whined. Coming forward, she licked Owen's fingers as he reached out to her.

"You have to let me go, girl," he told her. "Rem wants to kill me. Please don't let him."

As if understanding, Clove made a strange sound, almost like a sneeze, before she ran back the way she came from.

When no one else pursued him through the woods, Owen collapsed at the base of a tree to catch his breath. His body shook with weakness. He had frightened himself, as this time he knew he had complete control over his actions. When he'd attacked Quinnby in the tunnels, he had taken action based on desperation and instinct, overwhelmed by his own power. But now, he knew every move he made had been intentional.

He had killed several men. The feeling didn't bring him satisfaction, but it did bring him relief. At least Quinnby couldn't hurt him, or anyone else, again. But then there was Rem.

It was evident the man had known about Owen since he'd used his purple fire in their escape from Coopersburgh. Either that, or Rem somehow knew more than he let on, which was terrifying to think about.

What did he mean about wanting to be my mentor? Mentor of what…

Then there was the shadow man to think about, how he had known where Owen was. This spirit was aiding him, but there was something else… another entity speaking to Owen, who had only spoken to him two other times since leaving Emberton. He recalled the first time he'd heard such a deep, almost angry voice was when Elian had tried to Cleanse him in Covehaven's prison. During the painful ritual, Owen had heard voices surrounding him, echoing strange things he couldn't fathom. And the last voice that had spoken had said, "I am coming for you." The other time had been only days ago, when Owen had faced Quinnby in his manor and nearly killed him then. The deep voice had told him to embrace his role as Shadowborn.

Owen didn't understand what any of this meant. He was too terrified to speculate further. But there was no denying that this same voice had spoken to him, just as the shadow man had appeared to him. Owen recalled Amias telling him how such spirits were attracted to powerful minds.

Perhaps just a cursed mind. And what did it mean about sacrifice?

The whole thing had Owen on edge. Grimacing, he glanced down at the binds around his wrists. It was some kind of wiry rope, and it was strong. Being far away from his enemies now, he reached down and slipped the dagger from his boot. Unsheathing it, he lined the sharp blade against his binds, and within minutes, they were off.

I have to get back to Colt.

Owen pushed himself onward. When twilight brushed the sky pale blue, he saw a shadow and looked over to find the shadow man that now seemed to act as his guide, taking Rem's place. It hovered just above the ground, watching silently.

Owen swallowed hard and ventured, "You tried to aid me, in Quinnby's tavern."

For a moment, the spirit remained quiet, then it said, "I can't do much in this form, but I want to help in any way that I can."

"But what for? Who are you?"

"You will know in time. For now, you need to go to Vanhelm. The Hunters will not cross over into that territory. Now follow me, I will lead you out of the woods." The spirit rushed forward.

Letting out a breath, Owen followed, moving swiftly through the trees for a long time, until the shadow man disappeared. Owen stopped and looked around, searching for it, but then noticed he was near a back road.

As he came out into the open, he looked down at himself. His clothes were a mess; blood had dried on his collar and sleeve, and his shirt had been ripped at the shoulder. The rush of adrenaline had fueled his escape through the woods and allowed him to ignore any pain in his body. Now that he was calm, he became aware of the stinging pain that came and went like a wave through his throbbing gum. He glanced both ways down the road, choosing the direction he hoped would lead him back to the inn where he'd left his companions.

After some time, a hooded man on a horse appeared ahead in the distance. Owen's heart lurched as he scrambled into the damp grass off the road, but as the rider neared, Owen picked up the unmistakable scent of lemon and honey and smiled.

"Thank the gods," he breathed.

"Owen!" Colt pulled on the reins, halting his horse, and reached an arm out to help him up into the saddle behind him. Owen held tight to his companion as they started forward, shutting his eyes against the wind as it whipped by.

The horse raced along the beaten path for a long time. It wasn't until they slowed down that he dared to open his eyes. Coming to a line of trees, Colt dismounted and pulled the horse around, out of sight.

Owen got off the animal and leaned against one of the trees. He took in a breath as his heart slowed. When he looked up, he saw Colt's distraught face leaning down to inspect him.

"What did that bastard do to you?"

Owen winced. His gum stung, and he pushed his tongue through the gap where his tooth had been. It felt odd. "Rem cornered me in the bath back at the inn. He drugged me and took me to a tavern Quinnby owns. Quinnby tried to Cleanse me again. I killed him, Colt. He's gone… but Rem is still alive. I managed to set fire to the tavern."

"Shit." Colt pulled Owen into a warm embrace and sighed in relief.

As Owen held him back, nuzzling his face against Colt's familiar chest, he smiled. But then he winced and made a painful whimper as his gum ached.

"What's wrong?" Colt pulled away and stared at him in concern.

"Quinnby knocked my tooth out…" Owen groaned as he rubbed his chin.

"What?" Coming close, Colt pulled up Owen's upper lip with his thumb until he saw the missing tooth. When Owen swatted him away, Colt's eyebrows popped up. "What a fucking bastard. Does it hurt?"

"Yes, but it's not as bad now. Where are Gilda and Brom?"

"Back at the inn. Brom's useless right now, and Gilda wanted to come, but didn't want to leave him there."

Despite their situation, Owen let out a soft laugh. "So you came after me instead."

"I've been out since last night." Colt rubbed Owen's cheek gently with his thumb. "I won't ever rest unless you're beside me."

Sighing, Owen leaned forward and hung his head against Colt's chest, winding his arms around Colt's waist. "When did we become such pathetic saps, Colt…?" he muttered. He had never felt such a bond with someone as he did with Colt. Not even Amias, or his own mother. This was different, almost dangerous. It made his heart sick when they were apart.

Colt let out a trembling laugh. "I don't know, but we're together now, that's all that matters." He pulled the horse forward, and they continued on. As they walked, the scrapes and bruises on Owen's head, face, and shoulders from being thrown around and cut from the window began to throb.

"Rem's going to come after me," he said. "He knows I'm Shadowborn." Owen didn't look at Colt, but he stopped walking, preparing for what he'd say.

"How?" Colt asked.

"I don't know. It could have been my fire." He raised his heavy head and looked at the trees. "He said the dark one graces him. And when I escaped out the window, he told me to run. He wants to hunt me…"

Colt looked behind them, then he grabbed Owen's arm and craned his head down until Owen looked him in the eyes. Eyes, Owen noticed, that were not only full of fear, but also full of anger, fire. "You killed Quinnby. You're sure of that?" When Owen gave him a weary nod, he went on, "We're not going back to the inn. Brom and Gilda will meet us in a town called Greenwater."

Owen then noticed their bags tied to the horse. "How will they know you found me?"

"If we don't show up at the inn in Greenwater, they'll know." Colt let out a breath and dug in his pocket for Owen's necklace, then held it up. "I found your necklace by the tub. That's how I knew something had happened."

Owen grinned so big, it reached into his brown eyes, but then he grimaced and rubbed the left side of his jaw. "It must be a lucky charm, then."

"Yeah…" Colt tilted his head and gazed at Owen tenderly before he nodded for him to turn around so he could put the necklace back on. He pulled the cord around Owen's neck and clasped it, then he squeezed Owen's shoulder before patting the saddle. "Come on. We're getting ahead of these Hunters."

Owen let Colt get up on the sleek brown horse first, then he pulled himself up behind. Colt started them forward, and Owen pressed his face against his lover's back, his arms winding around his waist.

He tightened his hold around Colt, but when he closed his eyes against the cold rush of the wind, blood filled his thoughts. He had just killed a very renowned man in the region of Calwick, and now Rem and Elian—no, the whole country—were after them. He and Colt were fugitives, a fact that took Owen a while to accept, and he realized for the first time that in order to keep Colt alive, he had to start living like one.