Chapter Five

DAY FOUR—Jamaica

Since the first afternoon at the pool bar, both crew and passengers had been shyly approaching Marcus and asking him to draw their likeness. Though bizarrely similar to his day job, the sunshine above, the friends he didn’t have at work, and the cocktails he couldn’t imbibe while tattooing made it fun. Everyone—especially the crew members—gave him free creative license to draw fantasy caricatures of them.

Unfortunately they all insisted on giving him money, though just like he told Daniel and Chris at the bar, he didn’t want any.

After two fun-filled days at sea, Marcus had spent the third day of the cruise snorkeling with most of his friends off a catamaran in St. Martin—Lewis had refused to get in the water. Marcus hadn’t found the opportunity to harass his little friend about his exploits with Daniel yesterday, but this morning seemed like the perfect opportunity.

The Pride had docked in Jamaica and while most passengers were on the island already, Marcus had stayed behind because Theron had taught a sword aerobics class on the deck where passengers often practiced yoga. After a killer workout, a shower, and a well-deserved breakfast, Marcus found himself with the grooms-to-be and Kendra at the coffee bar Insomniac. The ship wouldn’t leave Jamaica until midnight, so there was no rush to go exploring just yet.

Enjoying the hell out of his dark chocolate double-shot mocha iced latte, Marcus perused the ship’s daily newspaper. He’d checked the box for the actual print version rather than going for the app option because he loved the nostalgic feel of a newspaper. But posts about parties, art auctions, Caribbean history, cooking classes and daily cocktail specials were forgotten as an idea came to him.

It would be hilarious to text Lewis about Daniel with Theron sitting right beside him!

Before Marcus could make Lewis squirm, however, a familiar blonde minced over to their table.

“Hello, grooms and friends,” Penelope said in a cheery voice, her brow sparking with glitter makeup. She had a big streak of hot pink in her hair and super-long fake eyelashes. He spent a lot of time with his sister and her wife. He could recognize falsies anywhere.

“Hello, Penelope,” Theron said.

“Hello, Magus.” She offered a reverential nod.

“What did you call him?” Kendra questioned.

“It’s a French nickname,” Lewis said dismissively. He and his hubby were fluent in French. Though pretty good with Spanish and even a little Navajo, Marcus couldn’t attempt to guess more than a few words if the two decided to have a real conversation in French.

Penelope smiled at Marcus, batting those long eyelashes. “My friend Adam said you drew a picture of me. May I see it?”

“Of course,” Marcus said, smiling. “I guess it’s the picture that started everybody wanting me to draw them. I was just doodling and well... I guess you inspired me.”

She leaned in with a wink. “Of course I did. I’m adorable. The perfect muse.”

Marcus laughed heartily at her good nature and twinkling smile.

“Fair enough.” He reached down to the messenger bag he carried everywhere during the day, and withdrew his sketchbook. It opened to his friends’ pictures first, so he shuffled back a few pages, looking for Penelope’s.

Penelope and Theron sucked in a gasp in unison.

Marcus paused. “What?”

“Go back,” Theron ordered.

Curious what he wanted to see, Marcus showed him a drawing but Theron gave him the gesture to go further. He slowly turned pages until Theron said, “That there. What’s that?”

Marcus had drawn the black, mythical man-creature weeks ago. With long, streaming white hair and giant, glistening wings, the creature possessed a seductive mischief bordering on evil twinkling in his purple eyes, a coy smirk dancing on full, dark lips.

“Oh that?” Marcus felt both protective and embarrassed of the image for some strange reason. “I was playing with ideas for a new tat for myself.”

Penelope and Theron exchanged a meaningful glance while Lewis irritably tugged on his fiancé’s arm. “Why is that interesting?”

Theron shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s interesting, but it’s beautiful.”

Lewis said something in French, and Theron shook his head and replied in turn.

“No talking in languages we don’t know,” Kendra scolded loudly, though she’d been ignoring them and playing a game on her phone.

Lewis scrunched up his face as if he didn’t like what his fiancé had said.

Marcus quickly placed his hand over the page, not wanting them to look at the drawing anymore. Which was stupid since he’d been considering tattooing it on himself, which meant people would see it eventually.

“Is that a unicorn?” Penelope asked excitedly.

On the page next to the winged black creature with lilac eyes, Marcus had drawn a unicorn in a trippy universe. Indigo sand, a green sky with a pink moon made up the background of a gleaming white unicorn.

“Have you ever seen a unicorn?” Penelope wanted to know.

Marcus chuckled. “Sure, they’re kinda everywhere, ya know? Little kids love them. And I’ve tattooed my fare share.”

Penelope shared a meaningful glance with Theron, and Marcus once again had the sensation of being left out of some inside scoop.

Popping her head up from her phone, Kendra leaned over her Baileys and coffee to see the drawing. “Looks like another van mural. Did you know van culture is coming back? Maybe you should get into the airbrush business. I bet you’d make a fortune.”

Marcus chuckled because he did know a few people who were in the market for 70s and 80s conversion vans. He’d considered getting one himself if he hadn’t bought his new Jeep Gladiator, Rubicon edition. Everything old eventually became new again, and vans were one of them apparently. Maybe Kendra had an idea.

Not wanting them to look at the black, winged creature anymore, Marcus flipped to the page of Penelope. “There. What do you think?”

“I’m beautiful!” she gushed with wide eyes.

“You can have it, if you like,” he offered.

“Can I truly?”

After snapping a pic, then signing and dating it, Marcus carefully tore the page out, checking the back to make sure it wasn’t anything important. Just that quick sketch of the gargoyle from the hallway. He took a pic of it, though he could easily redraw it since he’d taken pics of the actual statue. Then he handed the paper over to her.

She stared at it, completely enraptured with her own self. “It’s beautiful. She dropped several strange gold coins in his hand. Marcus didn’t recognize the money, but assumed he could take it to the currency exchange desk on the ship.

“You don’t have to pay me,” Marcus said. “Your pretty face gave me a muse, which is payment enough.”

“That’s okay,” she quipped. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.” She stared at herself for another moment, then smiled at Theron and Lewis. “I’ll see you later for your pre-wedding photos. His Majesty has a car to take you to the location I found in Jamaica. Kevin will be on ramp seven at two o’clock.”

“We’ll be there,” Lewis promised and Marcus chuckled at her apt description of the bossy wedding coordinator, Kevin.

His Majesty, indeed.

Then she flitted away.

“I don’t know why you keep saying you don’t wanna be paid for your drawings,” Kendra said to Marcus. “It’s like getting paid to be on vacation.”

“I already decided I’m gonna donate it all to charity.”

“I’d keep it,” Kendra said seriously.

“That’s because you have a black heart,” Lewis told her.

Without skipping a beat, she gave him a wicked smile. “It matches my black soul,” she said in a spooky voice and everyone laughed.

They settled back into their coffee, phones, and people watching. Stuffing the ship’s newsletter into his bag, Marcus decided it was finally time to mess with Lewis. He pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message.

I met your friend Daniel

He hid his grin as he waited for Lewis to get the text.

When Lewis’s phone pinged, he glanced at it then scowled at Marcus before furiously typing a response. He must’ve typed then deleted quite a bit because Marcus only got the reply: Daniel who?

They stared, measuring each other up. Marcus bit back a laugh, imagining a Wild West musical score playing as they faced off. Phone’s poised, thumbs at the ready, Lewis with one brow arched, and Marcus with both up.

After a moment to build tension, and thoroughly amused, Marcus typed out: The famous author U had a fling with. His word not mine

Lewis went three shades of red, glanced at Theron, then quickly typed an answer.

Marcus grinned wide when he read the reply.

Ancient news. B4 he wrote the book, n B4 I met Theron. T is VERY sensitive about that particular fling

Just giving you shit, playa

He added a poop emoji and a few sunglass guys, fighting the urge to laugh out loud at Lewis as his scowl deepened.

How did u meet Daniel n why was he talking about me?

So paranoid LOL He n his friend Chris were at the bar the other night. We were all talking n dancing. You were only a brief mention. No reason to fuss

Before Lewis could respond, Theron looked up from his book, and Lewis grinned stupidly at him. Theron made a face, then glanced at Marcus.

Marcus couldn’t hold in his laugh.

“What’s funny?” Kendra wanted to know. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Lewis said quickly before shooting Marcus a warning glare.

Which only made Marcus chuckle harder.

“Fine don’t tell me. What are you guys doing in Jamaica besides wedding photos?” Kendra asked, setting her phone in her bag. “Did you sign up for anything?”

“Yeah, Marcus, did you sign up for anything? I know Skip and the twins are going snorkeling again. But, yeah, Lewis doesn’t do saltwater swimming,” Lewis said, no doubt eager to get Marcus onto another topic.

Kendra groaned. “No speaking in French or third person.”

Marcus laughed. “I don’t get how you love saltwater fish, but refuse to swim in the ocean.”

Jeremiah maintained the saltwater aquarium in Marcus’s tattoo parlor, but he and Lewis had monster tanks in their homes they were always fussing with. Jeremiah even had a shark, which was totally badass. He even fed Kitty the catshark and the trigger fish in his home tank live goldfish.

Lewis’s one brow shot up. “Fish are for dinner or in my fish tank, not for swimming with. I’m not a merman, ya know?” He chuckled as if that were hilarious.

Which it wasn’t.

“Theron and I are going on a sunset cruise after the photos,” Lewis finally answered Kendra’s question. “We’ll probably go shopping before we meet Kevin, though, see if we can find anything for the store. Wanna come?”

“Can’t,” she said. “Theron, don’t let him buy anything at full blown retail like he did last time. I still can’t believe how much you paid for that old book and rosary. You so overpaid.”

“I have not one ounce of buyer’s remorse,” Lewis retorted, taking hold of Theron’s hand and smiling broadly at him before scowling at Kendra. “Why can’t you go with us?”

“Because I’m meeting Brian at two-thirty.” She’d had a torrid affair with the cruise director the last time she’d been on board and sounded like she was picking up where they’d left off. “We’re gonna hang out with his friend Michael. Michael owns a pretty swank house on the beach.”

“Ah, you asked what we were doing so you could brag about your plans,” Marcus teased.

Lewis scrunched his brows, one up and one down. “Like hang out hang out, or like a three-way hang out?” Then he threw his hands in the air. “Nope, never mind. Don’t wanna know. Now I’m visualizing it.”

Kendra looked like the cat that ate the canary and they all laughed.

“Good for you, getting your freak on,” Marcus told her. “My plans are a tad less physical. Theron already made me sweat my ass off today.”

“No doubt. My arms are gonna feel that tomorrow,” Kendra agreed. “I’m surprised those young girls were able to keep up.”

“Right?” Marcus agreed. Aside from Marcus, Kendra, and a few others, the class had mostly been attended by a very large family—he assumed they were related, since they all had the same short, stocky build, heavy facial features, and big noses. Several of the young ladies must’ve been born with swords in their hands, they were so good.

“They did well, didn’t they?” Theron said proudly.

“Total girl bosses,” Kendra agreed. “What are your plans for Jamaica, Marc?”

“I heard about a tattoo parlor I wanna check out. I emailed the guy who runs it. He’s got an amazing TikTok following, and he does phenomenal work on dark skin. He said it was cool to stop by and check out his flash and talk shop. I’m gonna head out after lunch.”

Having been to the island countless times during his years working aboard the Pride, Nathan had warned Marcus the tattoo parlor was in a shady part of Montego Bay, but Marcos was 6’3 and not really worried. He’d been fighting his entire life—with his father, bullies, or gangbangers, pick one—but he’d developed real fighting skills since training with Theron. He’d been told more than once, he possessed a “don’t fuck with me” aura, so most people tended to steer clear of him.

Including handsome little blonds.

Absently, Marcus fingered his cross necklace, hands restless as disappointment swamped him.

They’d been on the ship four days, and again Dane remained elusive. Hell, Marcus didn’t even know if he still worked on the ship. Somehow, he’d resisted asking Adam, Daniel, or Chris if they knew Dane. And since Marcus refused to be a needy bitch, he hadn’t drilled Mitch or Jasmine when her estranged father boarded in St. Martin yesterday and the trio had joined them for an uncomfortable dinner. Kaleeb, with his long navy blue hair and piercing dark eyes, spoke little as he feasted on seafood and scowled at everyone. Aleek and Jeremiah had been visibly uncomfortable, borderline pissed by his presence, much to Mitch’s disappointment and Marcus’s surprise.

Every hour that passed not seeing Dane again felt like grains of an hourglass slipping from his fingertips, time running out.

But for what?

He closed his sketchbook and busily stuffed it back in his messenger bag, not wanting melancholy to take him.

Or for his friends to notice.

“Do you think you’ll get a tattoo?” Kendra questioned.

“I don’t have an appointment,” Marcus said, then slapped a bare spot on his right thigh. “But if a master’s got time, I got skin.”

A cell phone buzzed.

“It’s me.” Lewis waggled his phone. “It’s my alarm. We have to meet with a lady from catering to pick out appetizers, cake, and the dinner menu before we meet Kevin.?Wanna join?”

“That’s this morning?” Kendra asked and the grooms nodded. “Oh, I’m such a bad maid of honor.”

“You are,” Lewis said.

“She isn’t,” Theron countered.

Kendra laughed. “Do we get to sample the food?”

“Yup,” Lewis said. “That’s why I skipped breakfast.”

“Well let’s go,” she said, glancing at her phone for the time. “It’s only ten-thirty, so I have plenty of time to go with you then get ready to meet Brian and Michael.”

“Don’t hurt yourself bragging there,” Lewis teased.

“I hope they have chocolate cake,” Theron mentioned.

Lewis patted his cheek then kissed his lips. “It was your only request. There’s going to be all sorts of chocolate desserts to sample.”

“You and chocolate,” Theron agreed, twining their hands. “It’s all I need.”

“You guys go ahead,” Marcus told them. “I’m just going to sit here, finish my coffee, and people watch before I head to that tattoo parlor.”

“You sure?” Lewis said, looking concerned. “No pressure, but it could be fun.”

“I’m good.”

“Sure?” He raised one brow.

“Yes, now go get Theron some chocolate cake before he wastes away to nothing,” Marcus joked before they walked off, appeased by the big smile Marcus didn’t fully feel.

He couldn’t explain how all these weddings were depressing the hell out of him so he waved goodbye to his friends. A bittersweet feeling of having friends who cared for him, coupled with the weight of loneliness, settled heavily on his chest. Trying to brush it away, he took a sip of his drink, forcing himself to enjoy the last of the beverage.

Happy vacationers who hadn’t gone to shore yet passed by the numerous potted plants surrounding the café-style seating area outside Insomniac, making Marcus feel conspicuous and alone. His fingers itched for his pencils. Though he’d put his sketchbook away to disguise his emotions, the urge to withdraw it once more struck him. He’d given Penelope the picture of herself, and on the back had been the only sketches he’d made of that gargoyle. Since he’d photographed both, he opened the photo app on his phone to draw some flash for the studio. He’d told himself he wouldn’t work, but anything was better than getting stuck in his head.

“What the hell?” Marcus paused and scrolled through pictures of a plant beside the elevators.

No gargoyle.

Stupid fucking phone.

Needing to kill some time before his appointment with a fellow artist, he gathered his things and headed toward the elevator, intending to get another snapshot of the cool gargoyle statue. If he put the guy on his flash wall at the shop, clients would love it. Dark creepy shit sold well to a certain clientele, just like butterflies and dolphins did to another.

The latter weren’t his favorite kinds of ink to sling down, but they paid the bills.

Messenger bag over his shoulder, Marcus finished the remnants of his drink and tossed the paper cup into the recycle bin by the garbage.

When he got to the elevators, there was no gargoyle.

He looked around curiously. Maybe he’d been at a different set of elevators. Determined, he walked the promenade where the gift shops welcomed shoppers, glancing here and there to see if someone had moved the decoration, or if he’d gotten the location wrong.

Much to his surprise and delight he found the wicked little gargoyle perched on the rocks by a beautiful water fountain decorating a common space. Dismissing why it had been moved—maybe there was more than one?—he sat on the empty, ample ledge around the fountain. The pool’s bottom glistened with coins wishing for luck and dreams. With one knee bent, he had his lap to draw on and a good view of the gargoyle. Then he spent an hour sketching tattoo versions of the little guy, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for a beautiful blond with lilac eyes.

––––––––

Finally!

Lowery couldn’t believe how long Dane’s human mate sat there and drew him.

He couldn’t believe the stupid human kept seeing him at all!

Once the damn human left, Lowrey responded to the summons that had been itching up the back of his spine for almost ten minutes.

He teleported off of the ridiculous sanctuary ship Pride of the Caribbean.?Hatred for the human named Marcus, soul-bound to Dane, festered like black poison inside Lowrey’s bitter heart.

He hated Dane.

He hated that he’d found his soul mate.

He hated that he’d escaped and Lowrey had been punished.

Most of all, he hated the fact that Dane’s escape meant Lowrey would never be free.

Lowery reappeared in his master’s home, outside his study door. He took a deep nasal breath and smoothed the front of his Armani suit, pointed black nails shimmering in the soft lighting. After a knock on the large oak door, he was bid entry. He kept his gaze on the floor, as previously commanded by Master.

“Why did it take you eleven minutes to respond to my summons, gargoyle?” the warlock demanded. “Look at me and explain yourself!”

Physically impossible for Lowery to refuse a direct command, he looked up at his master. Mortimer was not a particularly handsome man, nor too ugly. Gray-haired and unassuming, he wore casual slacks and a blue silk shirt. The only person who might notice him if he walked by would be a cougar hunting for a sugar-daddy who recognized the value of the Rolex on his wrist and the Louboutin’s on his feet.

In his peripherals, Lowery noticed two unknown men. One a wizard, and if Lowrey’s senses weren’t off, a powerful fire wizard. While unusual for a light magic practitioner to be canoodling with a dark warlock, this wasn’t the first wizard Lowery had found in his master’s presence. He hadn’t seen this one before, but his master had instructed him to look right at him, so Lowery’s eyes could not disobey and avert toward the wizard or the human seated in the chair by the window to examine either of them. However Lowrey could sense the ancient age and the Fae blood lingering in the human’s tissues. One of the Illuminati Mortimer used to do his bidding, no doubt.

Human conspiracy theorists weren’t wrong that an elite and wealthy oligarchy ruled the countries of this realm. However, the powerful influential group of humans once widely known as the Illuminati—now they were leaders of global economic forums—merely served as the human face for their overlords. In other words, paras like Mortimer.

Lowery was too old to think of them as anything but the Illuminati, and preferred not to think of them at all. He despised them. They’d made a blood bound deal with dark magic practitioners like Mortimer who refused to be a part of King Raoul’s absurd peace treaty. Humans and paras alike were mere chattel to these evil beings.

And Lowrey was owned body, soul, and magic to the warlock who possessed his gargoyle statue.

Mortimer had made Lowrey do unspeakable things for centuries, only Lowery’s cunning wit and self-preservation skills finally convincing Master he would be more useful working for him than against him.

Now, Lowrey understood any hesitation in answering his master about a delay would evoke wrath, so he quickly responded, “I was aboard the Pride as you instructed, Master. Searching for the missing Fae Lord. He’s yet to surface, however.”

Far too often Mortimer refused to hear the reasons why Lowery didn’t satisfactorily obey his commands. Mostly because he got a fucking boner from punishing Lowrey. The last time involved branding irons shaped into sigil’s meant to cause extreme pain until Lowrey’s skin repaired itself. The bastard had grinned maniacally as he’d tortured Lowery, his dick hardening with every scream.

At least today, his master gave him permission to explain his tardiness.

“I was invisible, but for some reason the Fae Lord’s mate can see me,” Lowery offered. “I did not wish to disappear and alert him to my presence, lest he tell the Fae Lord. That caused my delay, Master.”

Sadly that explanation wouldn’t save his ass today.

Shit.

Mortimer’s face contorted with rage. “The fairy has discovered his soul mate?”

Before Lowrey saw it coming, Mortimer dashed a potion onto the floor and a powerful blast of lightning struck him in the solar plexus. Thrown violently to the ground, the stink of sulfur and ozone filled the air. The only way to kill Lowrey was to destroy his stone gargoyle statue Mortimer had under lock and key somewhere, but the potion still hurt like a bitch.

Without permission to stand, he stayed on the floor.

“All of this is your fault, gargoyle. I trusted you to guard the Fae Lord, yet you allowed him to escape. Now you tell me he has discovered his soul mate aboard the damn king’s ship? How could you be so inept? So selfish and lazy? Look what you’ve done to poor Richard.”

At his master’s words, Lowery’s eyes were given the unwelcome command to look fully at the human sitting by the window. He could barely conceal his revulsion. He’d seen this condition before, but it sickened him anew, every time.

Zombie-like, the man’s skin hung from decaying flesh like melted cheese, exposing red tissue and bone beneath. Something repulsive, from a horror movie or nightmare.

“He is suffering because the Fae blood we’ve given him is not strong enough,” Mortimer went on in a cool tone more terrifying than his branding irons or magical blasts. “Our other royal has done something to his blood, preventing his essence from being the life-giving nourishment my humans need.”

Lowrey kept the opinion to himself that perhaps the other Fae Lord held in captivity may have been drained one century too long and could be dying.

Like, duh!

But Master hadn’t given him permission to speak.

“Get off the ground, you sniveling fool,” Mortimer snapped with contempt.

Lowery quickly obeyed, his gaze continuously darting to the grotesque human in the chair.

“I want the fairy back, gargoyle,” his master continued. “You will not be pleased if you return to me without him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Mortimer waved a disgusted hand. “Get out of my sight!”

Granted blessed permission, Lowery teleported to his tiny room in the cellar.The stench of old wine and rotten root vegetables permeated the damp, musty air. But at least the place was his... in a manner of speaking. No bars on the tiny window in the corner held him prisoner. No manacles chaining him to the wall. Yes, Master could lock him in here, but at least he’d removed the collar preventing Lowery from accessing his magic.

Damn you, Dane!

If only that stupid fairy hadn’t gotten so skinny!

How he’d freed his feet, Lowery would never know.

It had taken Lowery months to find him aboard the Pride. Only in the past few days, while Lowery had been monitoring the portals connecting this realm to the others, had he discovered a clue as to where Dane might be.

Gargoyles were made for guarding secret places like magical portals, so it was intrinsic to be aware of their locations and of paras crossing back and forth through them. Fae could cross dimensions, but occasionally they opened portals to realms they frequented or to take along a non-Fae. Lowery had been reaching out with his magic when he’d felt a heavily warded portal in the Caribbean.

He kicked himself for not thinking to check that stupid sanctuary ship earlier.

Drawing on his powers, he’d teleported as close to the portal as possible. He couldn’t travel through it, but after locating the entrance, he’d been able to board the Pride undetected. The amount of magic protecting the ship from unapproved visitors was unbelievable, really. Thankfully gargoyles had skills that few knew about—including Master.

Too bad Master had forbidden him directly from using his powers against Mortimer mere seconds after summoning him.

The second Lowery managed to get onboard, he’d felt the all-too familiar Fae magic, along with the unwelcome surprise of a human man tethered partially to Dane’s soul.

Hatred and jealousy filled Lowery’s heart now.

He studied his dank room, the small cot, a pathetic bare lightbulb, the dirty floor. Only magic kept his person clean and stylishly dressed. He had the magic to conjure more comfortable surroundings, but his master had forbidden it directly. Master only let him wear designer clothing because he was forced to look at him.

Meanwhile, fucking Dane had a soul mate and lived on a damn cruise ship in the tropics!

Fuck, I hate that fairy.

Lowery clenched his fists and let sharp nails dig into the flesh. Blood dripped, but the pain distracted from the impotence within his own life.

I need a plan!

He needed to lure Dane out of hiding.

Lowery knew he was still on that damn ship because his lingering essence was all over the public spaces. Unfortunately Dane had not surfaced and countless wards on the crew quarters kept Lowery from searching for him.

Now, the human was a different story.

Would Dane reveal himself if his human mate was harmed in some way?

Lowery had never known any mated Fae couples, but he’d been taught the other could feel when the other was injured or dying. Lowery knew Dane had not completed his bond with the human, and wondered why. He’d followed the human for days, and Dane never showed. Dane’s magic had to be damaged from his imprisonment, so what reason did he have for not bonding with his soul mate and fixing it?

Such a fool.

Would an untouched soul bond be strong enough to lure Dane away from the protections aboard the Pride? Lowery had seen the human wandering around the ship alone, drawing people and things—including Lowery’s supposedly invisible self!—yet no sign of the Fae Lord. Did Dane even want to bond with Marcus? The plan formulating in his mind relied on that soul connection.

Lowery didn’t have another choice.He might be taking a big risk, but the punishments Master would inflict would be both horrifying and creative. He might even lock him up again in the cells.

Or the iron maiden.

His stomach dropped in terror.

Maybe the rat cage.

No, Goddess please!

That was worse than the floggings.

Shaking his head to clear it, Lowery took a collective breath. No. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t. He was out of options.

He had to get that fairy back!