The Dark by Marianne Curley Page A

a chorus of whistling and wheezing.
    Marduke waits until it is over. During this time he stares at me with his one eye narrowed. He seems to be assessing whether to give me the information or not. His hunched shoulders suddenly jerk forward as if he’s come to a decision. ‘Lathenia will be here before you are eliminated from your earthly world.’
    His choice of wording is chilling. ‘Eliminated? As if …?’
    ‘You never existed.’
    ‘But that would mean killing me at birth, or my mother before she bore me.’
    ‘The portal to the time of your birth is opening as we speak. You have but hours before our soldiers succeed. Long enough to answer a few questions. You should feel honoured. Lathenia insists on questioning you herself. And then, old friend ,’ he mimics my own words, ‘you will exist no more.’
    I try not to let his words faze me. I’m not going to die in this miserable place! I yank my arms, testing the straps, but they’re tight and cut into my wrists. A hissing sound snaps my head back to Marduke, only an instant before he slaps a whip across my chest. It rips my clothing right through to my skin. Blood oozes from the wound, staining my shirt with a dull red streak.
    ‘Now,’ Marduke says thickly, ‘before my mistress appears, I have a question for you myself.’
    ‘Ask away, for I will tell you nothing!’
    The whip slashes the air once more, striking my chest at the exact same angle. He might as well use a butcher’s knife; the damage would be the same.
    ‘Stretch him,’ Marduke orders, and his creatures – two together – turn the wheel.
    Every limb and joint of my body burns like fire. Marduke’s hand rises and the wheel stops. ‘Where is my daughter being kept?’
    I stare at him from the corner of my eye. This, of all questions, is the last I expect. Mostly because of its personal nature. ‘Safe from you.’
    His arm lowers and the stretching starts again. It’s so hard not to scream out this time. But I don’t. I would rather die. He raises his arm and the wheel holds still. ‘Is it true she is Named ?’
    ‘Yes. As you were once.’
    He must see something in my face, because he turns away with an expression that looks something like regret, then mutters, ‘We shall be on opposite sides.’
    ‘It doesn’t have to be that way.’
    He turns back to me. ‘No, because you will tell me where she is.’
    He goes to raise his hand again, but I jump in quickly before he gives his order. ‘You may as well kill me, Marduke. Right now if you want. I’m not going to tell you where your daughter is. But before you finish me off, you’d better think about how you’re going to tell Lathenia you killed me before she had a chance to ask her questions.’
    ‘There is no need to concern yourself, my pet,’ Lathenia’s voice echoes around the room a second before she appears. ‘For I am here now. And when I am finished, you can have your fun with him.’
    Marduke nods and bows his head, stepping back from me.
    She fully forms, dressed in a long white gown, beltedat the waist with a purple sash to match her lips. Alongside her, the mortal shape of a man forms. A young man. And for a second I think I recognise him, but he moves, and the moment is gone.
    And while Lathenia stands before me, I take the moment to study her. The only other immortal I have been this close to is Lorian. I was his Apprentice for two hundred years and came to know him well. They are very different. Opposites in fact. Where Lorian is gentle (mostly), with translucent skin, eyes empowered with an energy that makes them difficult to withstand, Lathenia is more mortal in appearance. By anyone’s standards she would be considered quite beautiful. There is irony in the fact that her soul-mate (for how else could she have rescued Marduke from the middle world?) would turn out to be so … disfigured.
    She absorbs my thoughts, and even though my truthseeing power is contained, she lets me know hers. And now I