Page 58 of Twisted By Darkness

Prince only had so many stones that could break wards. The Collector’s guards outnumber us many times over and, to win this, we need more people. We need the other cages to open. We need everyone to riot. And that will only happen when the Collector is down.

I have to kill the Collector. I have to, or we stand no chance.

As quietly as possible, I leave the Menagerie behind, aiming for one of the corridors. It’s a discreet thing, half-hidden behind a marble statue. The hallway is dark and narrow. Not a place the Collector would bring his clients.

This has to be an entrance to the servants’ quarters, the way Tristan mentioned. I can’t even imagine his huge form squeezing past this corridor. He probably crab-walked all the way in. Poor Tristan, forced to fit in these tiny places because the Collector didn’t like to see his slaves walking about.

My blood boils at the thought. How many others suffered in his hands? How many others in the hundreds of years he’s around? People I couldn’t save, people who are already dead. The idea makes me seethe.

I race into the corridor, picking up my pace and dropping any stealth once I’m out of the main path. My exposed shoulders scrape against the rough-hewn stone walls, lacking decoration or even paint. I avoid looking at them. It only makes me mad.

A crossroads. I shoot a glance at each of the sides. They’re empty corridors like the one I came from. I stop to catch my breath, filling my lungs with fresh air. The scent of something delicious hits me. Someone is cooking. I lean in, sniffing the air after the smell. Ren and Apollo would have an easier time to follow it. It’s coming from the hallway in the right. So maybe the kitchen? I don’t need to go there.

That leaves me with two possibilities. I walk ahead, studying the walls, hoping they’ll give me a clue. The ground here changes. It grows unpolished, rough like cement. I scrape my boots against it, gaping down. Yes, and it also changes the angle. It’s like I’m going down, into the earth.

The Collector is an angel, Giulia said. A fallen angel. Something tells me he doesn’t enjoy going down.

I turn to the corridor on my left and follow it. Nothing tells me I made the right choice. I cross with two servants, but they don’t speak English and I don’t have time to mimic my way through it. They don’t attack me, so that’s good enough. I wish I could meet Mei. I wish I could find her and tell her Ren is coming.

Gods, the happiness she’ll feel! I can’t wait to see that happiness reflected on Ren’s eyes.

The corridor gives into another crossroads. One path leads down, the other leads to what seems another discreet opening in the wall, so I keep going ahead. The next corridor is the one. I know it. The second I turn on it, I know it gives into the Collector’s office. The walls change, and even though they’re still simple, they’re slick and painted in dark blue. My heartbeat picks up, and I rush ahead, eyes on the end of the corridor.

A door waits for me, its outline discreet against the wall. I grip the doorknob and turn it as quietly as humanly possible. The corridor I’m in has dimmed lights, and the room ahead is bright with sunlight. Good. Not even the light spilling into the place will give me away. I peek inside, pressing my face to the doorjamb. The place is fancy as shit. Like straight out of a fairy-tale castle. There’s so much gold it blinds me a little.

“Here she is,” a soft male voice calls out. I freeze, standing unmoving. He must be talking to one of his guards. Maybe that girl who put a knife to my neck twice. “Come out, Shadow Mage. I know you’re there.”

Shit. And here I hoped for a grand entrance.

Straightening my spine and putting on my best poker face, I slip into the room. Pretending to be admiring the decoration, which I certainly am not, I scan the room for the Collector — and for possible exits. There are several immense glass windows covered by silky curtains, but something tells me they’re too high off the ground for me to jump from them.

The Collector stands next to a glass display. He’s in white and gold today, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly. No glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and his black dreads are tied into a bun at the top of his head. As always, he looks gathered and elegant, his dark skin glinting as if he produces light from within.

I hate the sight of him. It takes everything in me not to jump on him and, I don’t know, bite his ear off. That would wipe the smile off his face.

He turns and smiles at me. As if he expected my arrival. “Welcome back,” he says. “I have to say, your arrival is both timely and surprising. A part of me hoped you would come back for the others.” He raises a hand to stop me, even when I say nothing. “I know you’re not a heroine out to do good, but after you rescued Tristan, I just knew the sense of justice inside you wouldn’t let you sleep at night if you didn’t come back.” The smile on his face widens. “You may not be a saint, but you’re fair, like Shadow Mages usually are. And that makes you easy to read.”

I clench my jaw, rage bubbling inside me at his words. “So you expected me? You thought I would come? Then why didn’t you stop me?”

“Why would I? Why, when I now have you exactly where I wanted?”

A shiver races through me. Did I fall in a trap? A trap I did not know I was walking into? I shake my head. This is not the time. Trap or not trap, I have to kill him. I have to, or the guards will overwhelm my men, eventually. Lifting my black-tinted hands, I call for my magic.

The Collector arches an eyebrow. “Not worried, Shadow Mage?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I hiss back at him. “This is the end for you, and for your kidnapping and your killings. I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”

“The way you’re doing with my guards?”

I cock my head, my magic stuttering in surprise. “What?”

A slow smile stretches his lips. No, it’s more like a smirk this time. “You’ve gotten used to it, Shadow Mage. Isn’t it simple? When someone gets in your way, tries to hurt you or yours, you just... kill them.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Oh, but you do. You were about to call on your magic to end me. You killed the fae prince and all of his fae servants, no matter if they agreed with what was happening or not. My guards are going down without a choice, that’s for sure.”

“They have a choice,” I insist. “They could stop fighting for you.”

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