Waking Beauty [Windsong Keep] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  “I can’t have you running around risking everything we have built here. You are to remain pure and due to your irresponsibility, you have left me with no choice.”

  Uncaring about whatever punishment the Shadow Witch had in mind, Talia sank back down to the cold stone floor and pulled her knees up to her chest, arms tightly wrapped around them. Her head rested atop her knees and her golden hair tumbled down around her legs as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  The Shadow Witch knelt beside her and pulled one of her hands free. Talia thought for a brief moment that the motherly side of the Shadow Witch was preparing to make an appearance, but she should have known better. Through tear-blurred vision Talia watched in confusion as her mother twisted the blood Diamond from the top of the wooden staff, revealing the sharp point of the pavilion. In one quick motion the Shadow Witch turned Talia’s hand palm side up. She then slammed the tip of the Blood Diamond into her open palm. Talia pulled back in pain and with a slacked jaw stared down into her hand. The small pinpricked hole left by the Diamond began to bleed and the blood started to pool. Before she could ask her mother what she had done, Talia felt her vision blur from more than simply tears. Her eyelids felt heavy and she fought to keep them open as the room around her began to spin. The feeling of the onslaught of sleep became overwhelming and Talia was unsuccessful at shaking it off. Her body was numb, her head was heavy, and her breath came in slow, deep waves. The room began to darken and as the edges of the darkness closed in around her, Talia unwillingly succumbed to the deep sleep.

  Chapter One

  Tar. That’s what the darkness reminded her of. Tar and her father fixing the roof. It was a bittersweet memory, though, as it was one of the few memories that Talia had of her birth father. She was sitting in front of the home that she’d been allowed to live in until her moon cycles began and as she picked mindlessly at the blades of grass, she watched him. He stood on the roof of their home with a large wooden bucket filled with thick black goop, and numerous piles of wooden squares were scattered around him. His movements were fluid as he dipped the head of an old mop into the bucket, soaked it with the black goop, and then slathered it over a small area on the roof. When there was an ample amount of goop, he’d lay the mop down and then one by one, pick up a wooden square and painstakingly arrange them in a pattern. He’d told her he was repairing the roof, which sounded boring to a ten-year-old girl, so as Talia watched him, she pretended he was putting together the largest puzzle she had ever seen and couldn’t wait to see what beautiful picture would emerge from it.

  She never got to see the finished puzzle. When the sun set and he was finished for the day, they went inside to clean up and enjoy the venison stew that had been cooking since earlier that morning. It was a special treat that her father prepared for her on rare occasions. He was not a great hunter therefore deer meat was hard to come by for them, but when he was lucky enough to snag a deer, he spoiled Talia with stews and steaks and sausages he would craft from grinding the meat down. Most of the venison would be sold off to other farmers, but he always made sure to keep just enough that he could treat his only child to some of the finer meals he could offer her. That was the last time she was able to enjoy venison, and it was the last time she saw her father.

  The following morning, as the sunlight crept through the cracks in her shutters and danced across her face, she opened her eyes to a new life. The Shadow Witch sat across her room in the rocking chair that her father had crafted for her years ago, perfect like a statue with creamy white skin, sleek black hair that hung straight down her back, and a flat expression on her face. She was breathtakingly beautiful and as Talia stared into her crystal-blue eyes framed by long, curly lashes, she knew why her mother had finally come for her. Slowly, she pulled back the blanket that covered her body and revealed the bright red stain on her nightgown and bedding. Tears began to flow from her eyes and Talia screamed out in protest.

  “No! I’m too young! I don’t want to go with you! I want to stay with Papa. Papa!”

  Her screams fell on deaf ears and as she continued to call for her father in a squealed pitch that only a young girl could produce, the Shadow Witch stood, walked over to her and touched her forehead with the tip of her ice-cold finger. Sleep took her and when she awoke several days later, she was no longer in the comfort of her old bed, in her old room, in the home she had grown up in with her father.

  The bed she lay on was soft and luxurious, layered in thick feather-down blankets the color of a sunset. The room was bigger than her father’s humble homestead. It was filled with dark cherrywood furniture that had been handcrafted by a very talented craftsman and the walls were whitewashed to make the room appear even brighter and bigger than it was. The large window that sat open against the opposite wall from her bed had large curtains that fell from ceiling to floor and were the same color as the blankets on her bed. They were created with a sheer fabric that Talia had never seen before.

  As she attempted to sit up, pain shot through her abdomen, causing her to scream out and flop back down onto the pile of fluffy pillows that were stacked up behind her head.

  “Well, that should be your first lesson now shouldn’t it?”

  The voice that came to her from the corner of the room was silky and pleasant, yet void of emotion. Talia turned her eyes to the location of the voice, wrinkled her nose, and mumbled, “Go away.”

  “I will soon enough, child, but for now you must suffer through my presence.”

  The Shadow Witch emerged from the corner of Talia’s new room and walked up to the foot of the bed.

  It was a shame that she was so beautiful. Talia wanted to hate her, and for the most part, she did. Watching her graceful movements, hearing her honey-silk voice, and seeing a mirror image of her own crystal-blue eyes stare back at her caused a small part of her to want to know and love this woman. She was, after all, her mother, but she was also the woman who had taken her from her Papa. Talia had pulled one of the pillows from behind her head and covered her face with it right after she shot the Shadow Witch a dirty look. “Go. Away.”

  Through her own muffled cries for the loss of her father and of her previous life, Talia heard her mother whisper, “I wish there had been another way, Talia, I truly do, but this is for the best… I will visit you in a day or two. In the meantime, drink the tonic. It eases the pain.”

  Talia did not move, nor did she drink the tonic. Rather she lay in her strange new bed, cried herself to sleep, and had nightmares of thick black goop falling from the rooftop like a black waterfall as it consumed her father.

  The darkness that now chased her moved in similar fashion to the tar her father had used. It was slow moving and sticky like molasses, and as it rolled closer to her, it enveloped everything it touched. Talia watched the darkness as it crept closer to her, conflicted with what to do. She could run, but she’d spent countless years running, and quite frankly was tired of it. Or, she could just accept her fate and be done with it. It wasn’t as if her life had a happily ever after waiting for her on the horizon. She was the victim of circumstance and the product of two powers that should have never created an offspring. Her future was meek, if she even had one, and it would be much easier to lie in wait, and welcome the darkness.

  As Talia stared, watching it crawl closer and closer to her, debating on what her next move should be, she heard a voice call out to her. The tone was deep and distant and Talia could not make out the words, but the sense she got from it was urgent. Perhaps it was her excitement at hearing someone else’s voice that triggered the feeling of urgency. She’d been locked away in this hell for years thanks to that bitch who called herself a mother. Putting her current dilemma aside for a moment, Talia turned from the dark goop and moved toward the location of the voice.

  The Veil that she resided in was much like what she might envision a cloud to be. There were no walls, no ceilings or floors, and no distinct rooms. It was simply a vast opening, with no end and no beginning.

&n
bsp; Off in the distance, Talia heard the voice again. The words were more distinct, although she still couldn’t quite make them out and the sense of urgency was definitely there, not manufactured from her own excitement over it. Talia picked up her pace and rushed closer to the source somewhere off in the hidden distance of the wretched Veil she called home. As she ran toward the voice, panic crept in. It could be a trap. Granted, the creatures that resided in the Veil had never spoken to her before, but they were not against playing foul tricks on her and perhaps she was about to walk smack into yet another one. She stopped and looked around at the familiar pale gray mist that surrounded her. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, the sadness began to build…again.

  When she had first opened her eyes and found herself in the Veil, Talia fell into fits of hysteria. She didn’t know who she was, where she had come from, or why she was there. She spent years aimlessly wandering, wondering if she had ever known a life outside of the gray, cloud-like mist that was her home. As time went on, memories slowly made their appearances and Talia was able to piece together bits of her previous life. She remembered being taken from her father’s home, being integrated into the world of magic by her mother, and having a full and exciting life. She even remembered that she had once been in love, although that memory was a black void in her mind. She simply remembered the feeling and nothing more. The longing to be home and to live again became a heavy weight on her heart.

  “Enough!” she yelled into the empty Veil. “I refuse to shed one more tear. What’s done is done.”

  Taking a deep breath, Talia gathered her thoughts, pushed the memories of a life that once was back from the front of her mind and continued forward toward where she thought the voice might have been coming from. After walking for what seemed like an eternity, she thought she really had fallen victim to another trick, but before the doubt could truly settle in, she heard it again. Clearer this time, enough that she could actually make out some of the words.

  “…kiss her,” one of the voices teased.

  “Are you mad? I’m not…kiss a corpse…I don’t…is beautiful.” That had been the voice Talia was sure had caught her attention in the first place. It was a low whisper, but the tone gave cause for Talia to believe it was a man. It resonated in her mind and opened up a desire to hear it again. She slowly edged closer to where the voice called from, and as she did, she suddenly felt quite silly. No one lived in the Veil with her. She wouldn’t be sneaking up on an actual person for hell’s sake. She raised her body from its slightly crouched position, and with the regal posture and glide that had been drilled into her by the Shadow Witch, Talia marched over to the source of the ruckus to find out exactly what she was hearing, and why.

  “Shh! Wait… Do you hear that?” The voice had become less of a calm whisper and had crossed over to near panic.

  In response, Talia stopped and looked around. What were they hearing? She didn’t see any of the Veil creatures lurking about, so it couldn’t be them. She took a few steps closer and waited impatiently for the voices to come again.

  “I don’t hear anything.” The one voice that had previously been teasing was now flat and sincere, hiding its own fear. Talia couldn’t tell, but she assumed it was another male voice simply based on the banter from earlier.

  “No…I’m not hearing it…I’m feeling it…” The deeper of the two voices had suddenly taken on an edge of sorrow. “It feels like a woman crying.”

  Talia’s breath caught in her throat. What did he mean feel? It sounded like an Empathic gift, but men were never born with them. Their hearts were too closed off from their emotions to be able to handle the heavy burden of Empathy. During her time at the palace, Talia had been educated about numerous magical gifts, and the empathic gift was one of her favorites. The girls who had been blessed with the gift were always the kindest, most understanding of people and Talia had gained the friendship of a girl whose gift was stronger than most. She could practically hear the feelings of everyone around her and though it often broke her heart to hear the true nature of people, she was also a great ally. She had been moved into the sector of Dungeon Politics as they’d gotten older so that she could train in the law side of the palace, but they remained close until Talia’s bitter end. She had been the only one who had known Talia’s secrets and had sworn to never spill them. She had been her best friend.

  “Now it’s loss…the woman is remembering loss. Ian, we need to leave. Someone is down here and I don’t want to get caught.”

  Loss? Could he be hearing her? It would be oddly coincidental if he wasn’t. Talia’s heart beat in her chest so rapidly she was sure it might just burst out. She had to try. If that Empath could feel her, maybe he could find her! She had to hurry before he ran away. She quickly tried to think of some other memory from her past that could trigger a heavy enough emotion to reach him. But she didn’t need to look into her past. A cold chill crawled across her skin and as Talia turned to face the black goop of the darkness, fear exploded within her. She had forgotten about the damn goop as she hunted down the voices, and now it was closer than it had ever been. She really didn’t want to die! She needed to live, especially now if there was someone with the gift strong enough to sense her…Maybe he could save her.

  Panic flooded her body and then she heard him.

  “Shit! She’s in trouble…Hello!” he called. “Can you hear me? Call out to me so I can find you…We can help you!”

  Talia did just as instructed. Tears fell down her face as she screamed out, backing away from the goop that had snuck up on her. “Please…Help me!”

  Chapter Two

  Hunter stared down at the sleeping beauty. There was no way the feelings he was experiencing were coming from her. According to the plaque that sat on the outside of her chamber, she had been dead for near 200 years, though her body did look damn good for a corpse.

  “Do you see anyone?” he called out to Ian, his partner in crime in every single bad decision he’d ever made.

  Instead of calling back, Ian came running and stopped next to Hunter and the body, his slight panting showing evidence that even though he often boasted to the women how fit and strong he was, he truly was out of shape.

  “There’s no one here. You must be getting it from her.” He gestured to the body and as Hunter continued to stare at her, he knew his friend was right. There was no movement from her, no shallow breaths or twitches from her eyes, but Hunter knew that she must be in there somewhere. According to the plaque, she was the infamous Sleeping Beauty. She was said to be a woman who had been sentenced to death because of her unspeakable crimes and her inability to control her unique gift. The description on the plaque was fairly vague, but in the history books, the Sleeping Beauty had been said to be the daughter of the Shadow Witch, a detail which prevented the council from having her head. There was annoyingly very little information on this woman or the nature of the apparent crime she’d committed. It must have been horrible to end her up here.

  She was so beautiful. Her pale skin was smooth like peach-colored porcelain, her long, flaxen hair slightly wavy and thick, draping down over what Hunter was positive were full, supple breasts, and her lips…a full pout the shade of blood, or rather, deep red rose petals. He couldn’t pull his eyes from her and then it hit him…the fear. It had subsided for a time, but slammed back into him with enough force that he was actually knocked back a few steps. Something was chasing her, something she couldn’t get away from, but within the fear, there was an odd feeling of hope. It was a feeling that was new to her, but she clung to it with every bit of strength she could muster as she ran for her life.

  Hunter looked around the chamber, trying to piece together an escape. Not that he even knew what kind of escape would even save her, considering according to everything he knew about her, she was already dead.

  Down in the depths of the Keep, the chambers were home to history’s most notorious criminals, therefore the security set to keep people in was heavier than anywhere else
that Hunter and Ian could normally easily maneuver through. Their only hope was that since the chambers had been all but forgotten, perhaps some of the magic had worn thin and would allow them an opening. Ian was, after all, a master at phasing through even the thickest magical walls, and with Hunter’s Empathic gift he was always able to keep them out of the view of prying eyes.

  The thick steel bars that surrounded the woman’s chambers had sent small shock waves through Hunter’s body when he had first brushed up against them and he took it as a warning to not go any further. Being that he wasn’t one to heed warnings, though, he pushed past the pain and found himself standing over a woman of legend. In contrast to the rest of the chambers, hers was set up more like a bedroom rather than a prison cell. The cot that was a staple in each of the other chambers had been replaced with an oversized bed that was most likely filled with expensive down, and it conformed to the curves of her body. The blankets were starch white and showed no signs of aging. They didn’t even have the slightest layer of dust on them. Her head had been propped up with a pillow that was covered in some type of sheer fabric the shade of a sunset, and she had been dressed in an ornate gown of similar color. Beside the bed, a small nightstand held a tall, skinny vase, and inside was a single long-stemmed rose that looked as though it had just come fresh from the gardens.

  Hunter found it odd that even in death she had been afforded certain comforts, but he brushed it aside, assuming that the Shadow Witch had pulled some strings to make her prison homey. However homelike it was in here, though, it was still a prison, and he still needed to save her.