Darkest Mercy 5 by Marr Melissa

Author:Marr, Melissa [Marr, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 0061659258
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-02-22T08:00:00+00:00

Niall watched as all too eagerly they fled. His rage and grief had made him capable of cruelty they hadn’t expected. What he hoped to do now was a step beyond grief. He was willing to bargain for things that he shouldn’t, but he felt as if his mind was only barely in order. Even before Irial died, Niall had stopped feeling anywhere near sane. He’d heard of humans “snapping,” and that was as close to an explanation as he could get. In one sudden moment, he’d felt like the parts of himself that weren’t already grieving, worrying, or raging were all swept away. Something inside of him tore.

If I had been clearheaded, could I have found a way to save Irial?

The Dark King shook his head. He wasn’t clearheaded. Great chunks of time had vanished, and he had no idea what had happened in them. Yesterday, he came to himself with Seth caged, and he wasn’t sure how long they had conversed or what had been said.

“What are you going to do?” Seth asked.

“You see the future. You know what I’m about to do.” Niall glanced at the warehouse door. “Will it work?”

“Niall—”

“Tell me. He’ll be here any minute. How do I make him give me what I want?” Niall’s abyss-guardians flashed into their semisolid state and patted his arms consolingly.

Mutely, Seth shook his head.

And then the Dark Man walked into the warehouse.

Death had entered the Dark Court’s center, and Niall bowed low to him as if a supplicant before a deity. “I ask a boon.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I seek.” Niall’s voice was barely more than a snarl, but it wasn’t offensive.

Yet.

Far Dorcha sighed. “You seek what they all seek when grief becomes madness.”

Undeterred, Niall offered, “I would trade my life for Irial’s. Another’s life. Anyone.”

“Listen to yourself,” Seth hissed. “This is not how you make a faery bargain, Brother.”

Neither of the faeries present looked at Seth.

Far Dorcha prompted, “Anyone?”

“Anyone.” Niall leaned forward in his throne. “There are those I’d gladly give you, but there are others I would mourn. . . . Tell me which faeries you would accept. We can make an exchange.”

Far Dorcha waved his hand, and a table and chairs of carved bone formed. One of the chairs slid out as the Dark Man approached it. The bone legs scraped across the cement floor.

“What about the girl? Leslie.”

“Leslie’s not of your domain. She’s mortal,” Niall protested. “You cannot . . . no.”

“Irial lent her his strength, let her leach bits of his immortality, bound her to the Dark Court with tears and blood. His essence is in her flesh.” Far Dorcha sat in the chair at the head of his bone-made table. He rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in front of him. “These things are so, yet you say she is not mine? If I ask for her, would you bargain?”

Niall came to stand beside the other chair. It slid out for him, but he did not touch it.

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