Crowned by blood, p.22
Crowned by Blood, page 22
part #3 of Daughter of Cain Series
I guess that means it’s back to the old-fashioned method.
I turn my focus to carving a path, flitting through forms with familiar ease. The pack sticks close to me, their thrall bonds humming with concentration as we make a beeline for the way out.
Ten paces into the cave, and the scale of the threat we’re facing becomes painfully apparent.
A cut on my thigh makes me hiss, and the scent sends growls up all around me. A second later, Vane curses as he also falls victim to a lucky shot.
Our momentum slows, then stalls, as Ivan’s men adjust their strategy to match ours. There are just too many of them.
Shit. We’re not going to make it.
I check the distance to the exit, but it’s still too far. I glance behind me to where Draven is studiously avoiding the patch of sunlight left by the fallen ceiling, and defending Finn as he does it. There are just as many vampires back there, cutting off any retreat. The omega has a dagger, and is guarding the vampire’s back where he can, but he’s not a fighter. He may be well trained, but he doesn’t have the instincts that the rest of us possess.
There are too many for Draven alone, and he’s limping. Silas notices and forces himself into the gap in Draven’s guard, taking it upon himself to cover the vampire’s weak spot.
A hand grabs my sword arm, and I claw blindly outwards at my attacker. But the brute strength holding me doesn’t relent.
Ivan himself has joined the fray.
I’ve never fought Cain’s butler before—why would I? He was always just a servant. His strength—far greater than my own—catches me off guard.
I twist, using my weight and the pain of my heel sinking into his instep to free my arm just in time to raise my sword to block another attack from a different vampire. Ivan frowns at the interruption, darkness marring his typically bland expression for less than a second before he strikes back. This time, he uses his incredible speed to grab my hair.
I’m pulled from our tight-knit group like a dog, and dragged into the sunlight where those ropes are still hanging, ready to lift us into the air.
I sense the second the entire pack’s priorities change from escape to my rescue. They give up heading for the exit and switch their attention to the vampires between them and me instead. The decision costs them. Soldiers quickly shore up the gaps in their ranks that might’ve allowed us to escape.
Frustration lends me strength as I struggle, and I manage to elbow Ivan in the nose. I get the momentary satisfaction of hearing a good snap before I feel cold metal encircle first one wrist, then the other.
Fucking silver.
Dammit, I am through with being kidnapped by Cain and his minions!
Doesn’t stop me struggling, but Ivan’s growl does.
“Enough!”
At first, I think he’s talking to me, but he’s not. All of Cain’s forces freeze, stepping back to form a ring around the pack. My eyes meet theirs over the line of warriors between us, and I see the grim determination on their faces. They’ll fight to the death for each other—for me—and I just… can’t let them.
There’s only one way out of this. A deal with the devil.
“Grigoriy!” I yell. “I accept your deal!”
He has to hear me. He’s immortal, and I was loud enough to make Ivan wince.
I’m not sure what I expect to happen, but the silence that follows my outburst isn’t it.
“Foolish child,” Ivan spits, finally losing that pleasant facade. “Do you even know what you’re dealing with?”
No. I don’t. But I know Cain, and in times such as these, the enemy of my enemy…
I look at the pack to distract myself. Gideon is glowering, as predicted. Vane and Silas are edging closer to Finn, who’s glancing around nervously. Frost and Draven have frozen in place, and the latter is warily eyeing the patch of sunlight creeping closer.
Another second passes, and nothing happens. Either Grigoriy isn’t interested, or he didn’t hear me. I feel Ivan’s sigh of relief against my neck a second before his grip in my hair relaxes. I try to take the opportunity to slip away, but his fingers wrap around my throat.
“If you gentlemen will kindly allow yourselves to be escorted to the tiltrotor, there will be no need for further violence.” Ivan’s bland tone is back, for all that his claws are digging into my throat, drawing blood in the process.
I stamp on his foot again, but he moves it before I can, and all my struggles accomplish is more damage to my throat. The sharp metallic scent grows stronger and there isn’t a vampire in the room able to control their fangs in the face of such powerful blood.
“I do not need to bring any of your thralls back alive,” Ivan says. “Though I believe my Lord Cain would be grateful for some leverage. If you want them to live, then behave.”
He has me there, and he knows it. But there’s just one problem.
“Draven can’t walk into the sunlight,” I object. “He’ll burn.”
Ivan shrugs, his indifference plain. “He’ll do it, or the rest of you will die. Lord Cain expressed a preference for returning you alive, but I’m certain he won’t mourn the loss of a practising witch.”
No. He won’t. In fact, the second he realises I have control over my powers, he’ll reassess the threat I pose and have me put down. He’s not let any other witch live, and I’m not stupid enough to believe I’m the exception.
I meet the pack’s eyes with my own and give them a minuscule shake of my head. In my chest I send my opinion clearly to all of them, making it as clear as I can that they should flee.
I’ve slipped out of Cain’s clutches more than once. I can do it again. They exchange a look, but Ivan interrupts before they can do more.
“I am a patient lycan, but my lord is not. Decide.”
A fresh ribbon of blood drips down to pool in the hollow of my collarbone.
Draven takes the first step forward, the toe of his boot crossing the edge of the pool of light.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DRAVEN
Evie is bleeding, but given her poor self-preservation instincts, I doubt she’s aware of quite how bad it is. Her throat is being torn to ribbons by the lycan’s grip, and if he squeezes a little harder, it won’t take much to rip her head from her shoulders.
It might not be enough to kill an immortal of her age, but there’s no guarantee she’d come back from it.
I’ve watched the woman I loved die once. I won’t do it again.
I glance back at Frost, trying to convey with my eyes that after I’m dead, I fully expect him to make Cain’s death hurt, but he’s too busy fucking struggling against the soldiers who have stepped up to restrain the others.
Ah, I guess Cain’s flair for the dramatics has rubbed off on his butler. Ivan is probably recording all of this for Cain to jack off to later.
My next step feels heavier, but maybe that’s just the audience. They’re all silent as they watch me, but I don’t particularly care.
Once this is over with, they’ll have their chance to finish Cain. Shame about Callista—I can’t see the pack tracking her down and giving the bitch the comeuppance she deserves—but I’ll split my afterlife between haunting her and watching over Evie.
I take another step forward, grimacing at the warmth on my legs. They’re covered with fabric, so it’s not too painful yet. In some ways, I’m glad I didn’t pack my sunscreen. That would’ve just dragged this out.
I lock eyes with Evie as I take another step, willing her face into my memory. If I’m to die like this, I want to be thinking of her in my final minutes.
Was the sun always this hot?
Smoke is curling around my limbs. The smell of it fills my nostrils as sunlight engulfs my body. My mouth is so dry, begging for blood to repair the damage that’s already being done. The thirst burns almost as badly as the ultraviolet.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow dance, but I don’t turn to look. I won’t tear my gaze from Evie’s. She’s using the thrall bond to scream at me to run, to get away.
The ice that I’ve always used to surround me cracks, melting in the blaze that’s starting to tickle my skin. If this is how I die, she should know…
I let it all go and fling the depths of my unhinged devotion back at her. Nothing is held back, and that surprises even me. Her big blue eyes blink, and that’s all the permission her tears need to finally spill over.
Maybe now she understands. My obsession with Evie is a feral thing, stronger than any feelings I once held for my human wife. I’d walk into the sun a hundred times for her.
I lose my balance. One of my legs gives out. It takes a second for me to think past the thirst and realise that it’s not just me. Everyone has been staggered. The tremor keeps going. The floor is shaking and trembling beneath us. Seismic activity isn’t unheard of in this part of the world, but it’s not common.
At this rate, the damned earthquake will bury Evie before the sun can finish burning me.
I’m not even on fire yet.
Come on, you flaming death ball. Finish this.
The longer this takes, the less likely Evie is to survive.
Another tremor hits, and this time, it sends me falling to my forearms. Ivan’s hold on Evie’s neck is forced to loosen, and her eyes harden.
Her shoulder lowers, using his distraction to shove him back. The move creates just enough space for her to wrench free of him. Blood sprays, but I can’t pick up the scent of it over the smoke in my nostrils. Her wound is serious, but Evie ignores it in favour of dodging her way out of reach.
The second the two of them are separated, the ghouls strike.
They drop from the ceiling like rotting, man-sized spiders, landing on the heads of Ivan’s men without warning, screeching their glee as they tear into their prey. A horde of them fly forwards, sacrificing themselves to the sun in an attempt to slow down Ivan.
Evie isn’t even paying him any attention. She’s staggering to me, while trying to hold her throat together. The instant she reaches me, she tackles me out of the sunlight, bringing her throat straight to my neck as she uses her body to shield me.
I’m so thirsty that I can’t resist. I lick up the freely flowing liquid, gulping it down without even using my fangs. I barely manage a few mouthfuls before she’s scrambling to her feet, dragging me with her through the chaos and the carnage towards the crack we emerged from.
Towards Grigoriy.
I pull her to a halt. “You don’t have to do this,” I protest. “We can just run.”
Her eyes tell me she knows that as well as I do, but then they flick back to Ivan, and I see her logic.
The lycan was freakishly strong for a beta, and he certainly had no trouble restraining her. It makes sense that she doesn’t think we can handle him alone. I can also sense her underlying fear. She’s just as aware as I am that Grigoriy could turn those ghouls on us if she reneges on their deal.
For better or worse, this is the path we’re on now.
She shoves me through the crevice first, stubbornly ensuring I’m as far away from the sun as possible—even though she’s the one with her hands bound in silver. I wait on the other side for her, unsurprised when the omega follows me through instead of Evie.
Finn is battered and bruised, despite our best efforts. His glasses are cracked, and his shirt torn, but he’s still alive. In removing him from the danger, Evie has freed up the rest of the pack to fight alongside the ghouls without distractions. When she herself scrambles through the gap, she launches herself into my arms.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she snarls into my chest. “You’re lucky you’re old enough that you weren’t incinerated on the spot.”
Her fury, fear, and relief blend together, forming a potent mix that slithers along our bond.
“He got a bad sunburn and a bit of smoke,” Finn reassures her, rubbing her back soothingly. “He’s still alive.”
“You would’ve survived without me.” I gently extract her from my body, trying to put distance between me and her mouthwatering blood. “Drink from your omega, doll. You’re going to need all the blood you can get if you’re going to break that barrier.”
Evie stares into my eyes, and I stare impassively back at her. My projected apathy is a lie. My heartbeat is still racing in my chest, trying desperately to break free of my rib cage. I’m three seconds away from grabbing her and running as far away from this place as possible or drinking from her until the faint redness of my skin is healed completely.
Reluctantly, she accepts Finn’s offered wrist and takes a few long draws from his vein. The wound on her neck seals, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Ivan has been added to my list. I had no strong feelings about the butler before now, but he sealed his fate when he hurt Evie.
I eye her cuffs, then head for our discarded packs. The electric locks can be short circuited, I just need to find my gear.
Getting them off is easy enough, and I’m finished before she even notices. She gives Finn’s vein one last lick, and the burns the metal left on her creamy skin disappear.
That sorted, the three of us turn back to Grigoriy’s cave. The black fog is there, still obscuring the details of the creatures beyond, but Evie doesn’t focus on them as she digs around in her little belt of herbs. Her sword was lost in the fight, but she pulls the dagger at her hip and uses it to slash open her palm, letting the scarlet liquid pool and mix with the dried plants until she’s satisfied before smearing it across the barrier while she mumbles some spell I can’t understand.
The black wall shudders, but doesn’t budge. Evie snarls a curse and digs her hands into the herb pouches again, repeating the spell, louder this time. Another tremble.
The third time, she gives up smearing the herbs onto the sticky surface and punches her fist through it instead.
Black shards splinter outwards from the impact, flying in all directions. We duck, but they pass harmlessly through us like ghosts. A haunting, whispery scream ricochets off the walls, spreading chills down my spine, and the scent of rot fills my nose. Before I can seek out the source, Evie collapses.
I just manage to catch her before she hits the ground.
The ghouls who were trapped behind the barrier surge forward, and I brace for them to attack us, baring my fangs. They don’t. We’re ignored by the tide of gruesome undead as they rush for the crack in the wall, hissing and screaming.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Grigoriy’s voice is louder now. The hissing, slurring of his words clearer, though I still can’t see the man himself.
The bone-strewn floor is devoid of life, but the barrier’s destruction has revealed a clear circular space in the centre of the bones, with a sleeping bag, camping chair, and what looks to be the remains of a fire.
Clearly, some poor unfortunate hiker has been robbed by ghouls.
“Show yourself,” Finn demands. “We have questions, and you promised to answer them.”
“Actually, I promised to slaughter your enemies,” Grigoriy corrects, and I catch a shift in the shadows beyond, followed by an audible intake of breath. “But freedom has made me generous. I wish to walk in the fresh air. Then we shall speak.”
Evie struggles up in my arms, staring intently at the shadowy figure drawing nearer. Her caution seeps from the bond and into my bones, and I shift protectively in front of her.
Grigoriy walks like a ghoul; hunched and shuffling. Bones crunch under his feet as he moves. As he draws nearer, I catch a glimpse of pasty skin and dark, shaggy hair. His eyes are bloodshot, and his teeth… well, they explain his heavy lisp.
He’s better made than most ghouls, but that’s not saying much.
He holds up a hand of long, slender claws to halt me when I would’ve said something. “You need not fear the sun. I have taken care of it.”
I don’t know what he means by ‘taken care of it,’ but it’s clear that speaking is difficult for him so I don’t press. His teeth keep his jaw propped open, and his lips are red and raw from where they’re cut by the elongated fangs.
He’s clearly stolen some clothes from one of his victims, because the baggy jeans and oversized shirt he’s wearing are so ill-fitting, they could’ve fallen out of the 1990s. Under his arm, he’s carrying a small pile of… books?
He notices my questioning look and offers them out to me.
“Thousands of years of captivity become very dull without the words of others, no?”
I skim the spines, reading the titles. Everything from dictionaries to… romance novels? I suppose that explains his English. Shrugging it off—because I suppose if I were stuck in a cave, I wouldn’t be too picky about my entertainment—I wait for him to pass before following him towards the main cave. Part of me wants to be in front, but no way am I ever giving this guy my back.
Despite his poor clothing and dishevelled appearance, there’s an aura of power around him that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Evie hovers close by my side, with Finn holding her other hand. The omega has reclaimed his tech-filled rucksack while we’ve been talking and has it slung casually over his shoulder. I don’t bother retrieving the rest, because I know most of us only packed snacks and first aid equipment.
The cave beyond the crack is the same as we left it, except now the bodies of Cain’s soldiers litter the floor, being feasted on by ghouls. Ivan is the only one still standing, and even that is relative. He’s kneeling on the floor with silver cuffs on his ankles and wrists and Gideon’s boot on his neck.
The moment Ivan spots Grigoriy, his eyes slide closed.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he moans. “The plague you’ve unleashed.”
“A lot can change in four thousand years, brother,” Grigoriy replies, levelly.
A ghoul scuttles over to us, depositing a pile of clothes at our feet. They’ve clearly been taken from Cain’s soldiers, but by some miracle, there isn’t too much blood on them.
Grigoriy turns to me, waving his free hand at the pile. “For the sunlight.”
I don’t have to be told twice. I grab a jacket from the pile and shrug it on, buckling it tightly. Cain’s vampires were well equipped, and there are balaclavas, gloves, sun-proof-over-trousers, and even sun-resistant goggles. The fabric is military tech, the kind of stuff even the resistance can’t get its hands on.
