Blood Ties Page 13

  “Wait,” Robin said, standing sharply. Just as Reykon brought his hand up, Darian advanced, and Robin whipped into motion to stop the vampire. “Hey!” she barked, thrusting her hand out onto Darian’s chest. “Back off.”

  Thud.

  Reykon thought she was going to lose her arm, but Darian was stopped mid stride, and by the surprise in his expression, he certainly wasn’t expecting it. His eyebrows pulled together in a terrifyingly smooth motion as he turned to face Robin.

  Oh boy. Reykon deepened his stance, a growl of anger erupting from him. “Get away from her,” he seethed.

  “Reykon, no,” she said, turning to him. Her blue eyes were pleading. “I brought them here. It’s Lucidia.”

  His eyes widened in confusion and despair. “What… why?”

  “She’s dying,” Robin whispered. “We can stop it. We can save her.”

  “And then what?” he hissed. “Then we’re all dragged back to chains. He probably planned this!”

  “Watch yourself, Reykon Thraxos,” Darian growled, a deep, bone-chilling sound.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Please, Rey, just look at her. She’s been poisoned.”

  He ripped himself away from the Texas stand off and stalked over to the table. Robin retracted her hand and sat back down, while Darian remained standing, tense and guarded. Lucidia looked like… well, like a corpse. A reanimated corpse, except that she hadn’t died yet, but boy, death had definitely been knocking. The once fierce, formidable warrior was skin and bone, her hair wispy, her gray flesh nearly translucent, not to mention there was a massive gash on her torso. As he looked closer, he saw a gaping, ragged wound near her collarbone, and grimaced at the sight of it. “What did that?” he muttered.

  “Zenecai, with a poisoned spear aimed for my heart,” Darian said bitterly. Shame, Reykon felt like saying. But everything in his upbringing had drilled it into him to hold his tongue around vampire masters, and even though Darian had little authority here, Reykon wasn’t petty enough to risk his head over the last word. He pushed a hand through his hair and drew in a deep breath, calming himself. At the very least, a positive was that Darian didn’t seem to be gunning for either of their heads at the moment. Not to mention, watching his wife stop the grand master Darian Xander in his tracks with one hand…

  That was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  He planted both hands on the table, the sight of his fellow strongblood in such bad shape sending a metallic taste spreading through his mouth. He and Lucidia had their differences, that was for sure, but he respected her immensely, and they both sharpened eachother like rocks and steel, always pushing, always testing. She deserved better than this. He took one last glance at the strange partnership before turning his sights away and walking tensely into the main area of the house. As he gathered supplies, he felt the golden weapon in its sheath, concealed underneath his shirt. The illegal vampire-killing weapon. He faltered for only a moment before tightening his fists in anger and barreling into their bedroom. He pulled the weapon and sheath out and then called on his abilities, using his strength to lift the corner of their mangled bedframe up and tossing the weapons underneath, letting it thunk to the ground once more.

  He regained his composure and grabbed what he was looking for from his duffel, getting the rest of his supplies, and heading back into the lab. Robin brought her tired eyes back up to him, tracking his movements across the room. He carried a small saucepan of boiling water over to the table, setting it down and letting his eyes trail over to the hole, carved into the other side. “What happened there?” he asked.

  Chadwick shook his head tersely. “Just don’t touch it.”

  “Okay,” Reykon scowled. He set the pot of water next to Lucidia’s head and walked past them, skirting around the other side of the table and peering down into the hole, clear through the floorboards, where some sort of acid had eaten through the foundation and was now melting through the sand underneath. Don’t touch it is right, he balked, slipping outside and walking to the beach. It was dark, nearly 3 a.m., but he had no problem finding what he was looking for. Wild bushes of rosemary, cropping up all along the side of the beach, amidst tall, wavering grasses. He picked about five stalks before coming back into the room.

  The pot of boiling water was billowing steam, and Reykon crossed the area, snapping the ends from the stalks. He slipped past the gaping hole in the floor and nestled two rosemary stalks into the water, using the other three to create a loose canopy over the top of the saucepan. Leaning over, he sniffed, smelling the rich, herby scent as it diffused in the air.

  “Rosemary?” Darian hummed, looking curiously at the pot.

  “I’m surprised you’re not familiar with wolven healing techniques,” he muttered. “They believe that rosemary and steam help purify the body during hibernation sleep. Lucidia loved the wolves.” Reykon stood, pulling the object he’d retrieved from his room and stepping over to her hand, the one that Robin wasn’t clutching for dear life. He cupped her palm and placed the slim black nightstick in it, closing her fingers around it and squeezing.

  “Her nightstick,” Robin murmured, a small smile on her lips.

  “Forged by the fight,” Reykon hummed, eyes fixed on his fellow strongblood’s broken form. “Something for her to hold onto, you know. Remind her of what a badass she is.”

  Robin’s smile widened, momentarily eclipsing the ragged exhaustion still clear on her face. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  Darian’s burning red eyes hung on Reykon for a moment longer, studying him before turning his gaze back to Lucidia. “She is lucky to have such friends surrounding her, in the midst of peril.”

  Reykon’s gaze lingered on the vampire after he looked away. He wasn’t sure if Darian had any idea about what was happening out in the world, in his stronghold, but for the moment, he seemed entirely focused on Lucidia. It was almost enough to trick Reykon into thinking that he cared, but after everything he’d seen, he reminded himself of their stark, harsh, and violent reality.

  Robin

  It had been hours, and Robin was nearly shaking. The effort and concentration necessary to hold a steady stream of burning energy, to funnel it from both Darian and herself, into Lucidia, was taking a severe toll on her. She closed her eyes, leaning over on the table and resting her forehead against her arm. A moment later, she felt Reykon’s hand rubbing her back as he crouched next to her. “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “It’s just been a long time.”

  “Is she…”

  “She’s weak, but I think it’s stable, for now. I don’t know much about it, but I feel like I can’t push too much in at once.”

  “It’d probably obliterate her cellular fabric,” Chadwick muttered, fiendishly grinding something in a pestle and mortar.

  He’d been working on the cure for a long time, and while she didn’t want to push him, she was feeling the effects of the draw. “How long does that take?”

  “The hardest part’s over, but it still needs twelve minutes and seventeen seconds to cure once I add this.”

  “Oh,” she hummed.

  The smell of rosemary was heavy in the air, suffusing around them and thankfully masking the smell of Lucidia’s rotting wound as Chadwick worked. Finally, when dawn had just brightened the sky, Chadwick nodded. “It’s done.”

  Darian straightened up, and Robin glanced to the caster.

  “This is the tricky part,” Chadwick said. “Everybody ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “This stuff isn’t actually a cure, but it burns away whatever poison is still festering in there.”

  “Alright…” Robin said.

  “So it’s going to hurt, a lot. Just a fair warning.”

  “At least she’s unconscious,” Robin muttered bleakly.

  “She won’t be for long,” Chadwick said with a grimace. “Reykon, get ready, you might need to hold her down.”

  He gave a tense nod and moved next
to the caster. Robin drew in a deep breath and focused her attention on the link between them, the steady stream of fire burning through her. Chadwick hummed something else, and the antidote rose out of the bowl, floating in one long stream, curling in the air, until Chadwick drove his hands down, and the liquid shot into Lucidia’s wounds in one jarring movement.

  She immediately seized. A cry of anguish so piercing that Robin nearly jumped out of her chair shot out into the room, and Reykon planted his hands on either side of Lucidia’s shoulders. She thrashed, her eyes rolling back in her head, every muscle in her body corded as the pain burned through her. Robin had a death grip on Lucidia’s clammy hand, keeping the tether intact. Robin felt something inside Lucidia give, and the stream of energy connecting them fizzled out. All the strongblood’s movement stopped, her body falling limply to the table. Robin drew in a ragged gasp, her eyes wide in prickly fear. Even Darian stiffened, leaning forward, close to Lucidia. “Her heart has stopped,” he growled, a warning, command, and threat all in one.

  Robin pressed her hand over Lucidia’s heart, desperately searching for the flicker, for that candle of light. She called on her abilities, energy dancing underneath her palm, ready to shoot into Lucidia, the strangest AED ever made, but something made her stop. She didn’t know what, or why, but she knew they had to wait.

  “Steady,” she whispered. “Come on, Lucidia.”

  “Do not let her die,” Darian hissed.

  “I can’t bring her back yet.”

  Chadwick’s hands hovered above her, his brow pulled together in concentration. “The antidote is still working.”

  Robin looked at Lucidia’s skin. Slowly, patches of gray were receding, replaced by creamy, pale flesh. Lucidia’s skin. The antidote was burning away the poison, yes, but if her heart was idle for too long…

  There was no coming back from that.

  “Do something,” Darian said sharply.

  “We have to wait,” Robin snapped, feeling that dim, fading core of energy. If Lucidia didn’t hold on long enough for all the poison to be gone, then the energy dump Robin would give her would rip her apart.

  “If you let her die,” Darian began, his voice rising in anger.

  Reykon glared at him fiercely. “You’re not helping.”

  “Everyone shut up!” Robin shrieked.

  Moments passed in tense silence. She was so close, so close to being whole once more, to being free of the toxic poison. “Almost there,” Chadwick strained, wincing. The second Robin felt a spark, she pressed on Lucidia’s chest and let a tidal wave of potent energy stream into her sister’s core. Lucidia’s body tensed, lifting up like Harley’s had, golden light thrumming underneath her skin. Robin panted, gasping for breath, feeling for the power, but it faded, slipping out.

  “No, no, no,” she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. Robin saw movement from the corner of her eye, Darian’s agitation and Reykon’s caution, stepping between them and protecting her. But her mind was solely focused on her dying sister, and the fact that she hadn’t been able to save her. To protect her, after everything Lucidia had done for her. A wave of burning anger plummeted through Robin, galvanizing everything inside of her. “NO!” Robin cried, feeling something snap deep inside of her brain, the same place that had been touched by Jadzia’s Comet. Her mind rumbled, the lights in the room flickering, everything fading as she mounted a tsunami of fire and sent it crashing into Lucidia, shooting through her body in a lightning fast infusion. Lucidia’s whole body tensed, and a ragged cry escaped the strongblood’s lips, golden light sizzling underneath her skin. When it was done, Robin’s whole world shifted, and she stumbled slightly, just to see both Reykon and Darian collapse on the ground before darkness slammed over her.

  Chapter 7 Reunions

  Megan

  They continued walking down the passageway, Megan’s heart still recovering from the waves of piercing emotion that had crashed over her from that foolish, idiotic lie and Fausta’s admonishment. Fausta’s warning to her. In the turmoil, Megan hadn’t even been paying attention to where they were going, but as they rounded another corner, Megan realized they’d arrived at the prison. Her heart quickened, thumping louder and louder, her mind flashing back to when they’d been dragged to Darian’s prison the first time. She had no doubts that Fausta would consider Megan’s lie to her cause enough to be thrown into a cell.

  The stone doors, guarded by fierce vampires, opened slowly, and they were swallowed into the tomb-like hallway, until they came up to that iron door, the first of the gates that led to the individual hells that every prisoner had experienced. But instead of entering the prison, they kept walking. Megan’s eyebrows pulled together, her breath shallow in her chest. They turned the corner, passing more and more guards, the torchlight flickering menacingly on the stone walls and casting sinister shadows across the passageway. After a labyrinth of twists and turns that Megan couldn’t even hope to keep track of, they came up to a smaller door, and it swung open without a single word from Fausta. The air inside smelled like damp hay, like a dusty barn, and at first she thought that there was a hailstorm somewhere, because that’s what it sounded like, hail on a metal roof, but then she realized that no, those were chains.

  Rattling chains.

  As Fausta’s arm on her shoulder forced her to move forward, Megan was brought into a horrific nightmare so much worse than her first experience in the prison. Because these cells were filled with her own people. Wolves, of all shapes and sizes, some in human form, some in wolven form, locked in chains. They were nearly rabid, sneering at the vampire as she glided through the corridor. Megan grimaced at the stench, at the horrific glares of rabid hatred the wolves were giving to them. Fausta didn’t seem to be phased by it. They moved further into the prison, away from the frenetic chorus of despair and rage, into another section with young wolves. Their faces were downcast, their eyes fixed on the ground in front of them, though some braved a side glance here and there. Bile rose up in Megan’s throat, her mind screaming at her to do something, to comfort them, to fix this, somehow, but she knew that it was no use. She was just as much imprisoned to Fausta’s will and good graces as these wolves were imprisoned by the iron bars. Fausta walked to the end of the line and turned, facing the entire prison block, filled with hundreds of young wolves, children barely ten years old in some cases.

  “They are like you, little wolf. Young. So young, in fact, that none of them have had their first shift.”

  Megan nodded slightly, a small movement.

  “Seeing them like this bothers you,” Fausta murmured.

  “Yes,” Megan whispered. She would never lie to Fausta again, not after the wrathful warning she’d incurred.

  “Good. You will be the one to free them. Each, and every one of them, in time.”

  Megan’s eyes turned to the vampire queen next to her, wide in confusion and concern. “How?”

  “The snow wolves have always been feared and revered for the power which they hold,” Fausta said. “You have the blood, little wolf. You are an alpha, by your making, and you will lead your people into a better life, serving me as it was intended. You will bring them out of their persecution and give them purpose, give them honor, and give them life.”

  “But, I…”

  “What? You are not ready?” Fausta asked, narrowing her eyes. “You are not worthy?”

  There it was, the message that she’d received her entire childhood, about how her mother had illegally consorted with another wolf, outside of her arranged marriage, how she’d had a bastard daughter, of dirty blood, unfit for status in their pack. Not worthy.

  Megan’s head nodded slightly, a reflex.

  Fausta gripped her chin and forced it up, piercing her eyes with those burning red orbs. “You choose your own worth, my girl. There were many that stood in my way, that told me I am not worthy to lead my own house, let alone my people in a war for our freedom and respect, but I have done this, and I have done it well. You are not ready y
et, but in time I will build you up as one of the greatest, fiercest Alphas that has ever stalked this earth. Your name will be written on the stones, your form sewn into the tapestries, your legacy woven into stories and songs right beside Asmund the Great. An alliance that has never been formed before, that will strengthen both of our races, that will make us untouchable, these are the plans I have for you.”

  Megan’s eyes widened even more as she realized why Fausta had kept her, why she’d treated her with kindness when the others were shown torture and slow, gruesome death. It was all because of her blood. The Alpha blood.

  “You will teach these wolves that I am a kind, compassionate mistress that defends those who show loyalty and obedience. That I am the way to their prosperity, and their freedom. You will show them this because I have shown it to you, by my side, both day and night, in my most trusted circle. Together, Megan of the Snow Wolves, we will accomplish such things that the world has never dreamt of. And it all starts with you, reaching out and taking what has been promised to you by the blood running through your veins. So I ask you this, young wolf, are you worthy of the task set before you?”

  Megan’s whole body trembled, her mind flashing back to her grandmother, her mother, the matriarchs of the pack. Their steely gazes, their ever-watchful eyes, glaring at her for speaking out of turn. Every message she’d ever been given had inevitably ended with the sentiment that it wasn’t her, that it would never be her, that it could never be her. But why not me? she finally thought, her heart pounding at the fear and wonder this one thought instilled in her. “I…” she began, her lower lip trembling as her eyes swept around the prison, the rows of her kin, her blood, suffering and wallowing in their shackles. “I am.”