Made of Scars

by Eden Wildblood

  She could feel herself drawing power from the Earth itself, like it was living within her, and it was as if something had somehow just been switched on inside of her. A button that’d taken her from a weak and feeble young jinni who needed the life force of a host to survive, to an all-powerful single entity who would never need a host again.

  What at first felt marvellous then suddenly seemed like more of a curse when she looked down and saw the blood pooling between Marcella’s thighs. It was flowing out of her in droves, like she was haemorrhaging badly, and Wynter screamed for help again. And, like before, no one came.

  She pressed her hands over Marcella’s stomach, only to find that it was flat.

  The baby was gone.

  Not delivered, but vanished entirely.

  As if by magic.

  “What have you done?” Wynter screeched, but the Priestess was still out cold, and as the magical circle then began to disappear, she could hear someone wailing from a few feet away. It was her old colleague Jack, but she didn’t know why. At least, not until he fell to the ground beside the pair of them and gathered Marcella up into his arms, where he whispered into her ear that everything was going to be okay.

  She peered into his face and knew then how the baby had been his. “I’m sorry…” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her. He was too lost in his grief, and she couldn't blame him.

  “Yes! There is nothing on this Earth more powerful than the heart of a witch…” Marcus whispered from across the room, and Wynter was still attempting to figure out what’d happened when he then laughed. “Don’t you feel it? And do you not sense anything else that’s different, my sweet?”

  She wanted to tell him no, but actually, something did feel different. And not in a good way. She was whole now, sure, but there was something missing.

  Wynter looked up and over at him, and then watched in horror as he lifted up his right arm, showing off the decapitated head he held in his hand like some kind of trophy.

  It was Jakob’s. Her one and only. Her true love.

  And he was in pieces.

  Dead.

  His blue eyes were dull and lifeless. His skin blue, blood pouring from every orifice.

  Wynter retched and cried and wailed at the sight, but that didn’t make it go away. Didn’t make it any less real.

  “No, no, no,” she cried, tears falling from her eyes in droves. “This cannot be!” she screamed, clutching at her heart, which she expected to feel breaking, but instead it thundered on. It kept on beating without Jakob to make it whole, and she knew then how Marcus had somehow found a way to reverse their merging. Or rather, Marcella had.

  “I took the risk and disposed of him once and for all during your new magical bonding with the unborn witch. And look, it appears your soul is free again, just like I’d imagined.”

  He then threw the bloody remains towards her and Wynter scurried back in shock, screaming her head off as she tried to get away from the awful sight of Jak’s lifeless eyes that were left boring into hers.

  She stood and tried to run, but the alpha soldier intercepted her, along with the thousand or so other vampires all crammed into the caves above and below them. He gripped her waist and glared into her eyes. And then he somehow whispered her name and fisted his icy hands in her hair, smelling it, and Wynter recoiled. But it appeared he hadn’t had enough, because he then licked her cheek and sighed dreamily, smacking his lips.

  “His first word was you, my sweet. I think he might be a bit smitten,” Marcus teased.

  It was only then she remembered she was not human and didn’t need to worry about the alpha vampire touching or trying to taste her. Not any more, and she certainly didn’t need to be scared of him or the others either.

  “Don’t touch me ever again,” Wynter demanded, and then she shoved the alpha away. He went flying back into the wall of soldiers, and for a moment, she stood there in surprise, astounded at the strength she now possessed. Even the huge behemoth was no match for her now, but her revelry was short lived when she remembered why and how this had all come about.

  “Now, come and thank me for releasing you from the binds Jakob cunningly put upon you. And thank your new mother and father for sacrificing their unborn child to allow you to live without your strength ever waning again. You owe them. And you owe me…”

  “No. Fuck you all,” she tried, but it was no use.

  She had no force behind her retorts.

  No strength left to try and fight the magical forces Marcella had conjured in order to capture her using a different set of binds this time.

  All was lost. It was over.

  Wynter knew she couldn't escape Marcus this time, or probably ever again. He would continue to lay waste to those she loved if she dared try, and while she mulled over how best to admit careful defeat, Marcus watched her with an impatient stare.

  “Very well, then I shall dispose of your jinni mentor too,” he answered, and the vampires holding Brodie down lifted him up and then began to pull at his arms and legs. “Did you know, the only way to kill a jinni is by ripping them to pieces and then separating the parts so that they cannot merge back together? Quite brutal indeed, and oh so enjoyable…” he told her, but didn’t stop them, and it was all too much for her to bear.

  His screams were deafening, and Wynter ran to Brodie to help him. She tried to grab at the vampires holding him, but no sooner had she released one’s grip that another would take their place. They were relentless, as was their master, and she knew there was no hope left for any of them. It was time she stopped fighting.

  “No more, please. Don’t take him too. I’ll go with you, Marcus. I won’t run anymore, but you let him go. He never wanted any part of this!” she begged.

  “Oh, very well,” he answered with a satisfied smile, and the vampires released Brodie without needing to be ordered aloud.

  Wynter helped him stand, and then hugged him hard. This was goodbye and they both knew it, but it appeared he wasn’t going to leave her without one more reminder. In spite of the danger, he leaned close and whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t trust any of them. And don’t forget who you are. Jinni’s are far more powerful than vampires, Wynter. Fight him. Fight for what you want and don’t become his slave all over again. Call upon me and I shall fight beside you. Remember that.”

  She thanked him but shook her head no. She couldn't do it all over again. Marcus was too powerful, and too merciless. She’d lost so much already, and couldn't lose Brodie too.

  “Find Archie. Make sure he’s safe. And for goodness sake, show that poor boy how you feel,” she demanded, and then went timidly to Marcus’s side. She was trembling with fear at being near him again, but forced herself to stand tall and stare him right in the eye. “Let’s just go,” she pleaded, but it appeared he had other plans first.

  With a smile, he took her hand in his and then turned to Marcella, who was still covered in blood from the waist down and only just about managing to stand by the looks of things. She’d regained consciousness in Jack’s arms, but she was still a mess.

  The Priestess stared into Marcus’s eyes and was suddenly glowing with pride, as though she’d planned it this way, and Wynter gulped. The powerful witch had seen this coming. She had foreseen this and gone ahead with the attack, having known she would have to lose her unborn daughter in the process. “How could you?” Wynter whispered in surprise, but was ignored.

  “My lady,” Marcus insisted, and then nodded to her.

  Before Wynter could ask what more he possibly wanted of her, his Priestess recited yet another spell in some ancient language she had no idea of, and then conjured some kind of magical bond around the pair of them.

  A sort of golden thread seemed to settle around their linked hands, and she figured it was a kind of binding ritual. A way of him always being able to find her, no doubt. Her word never had been good enough, so Marcus was clearly putting some kind of hex on her, but she didn’t fight it.

  Everyth
ing was already lost, including her hope, and Wynter simply felt broken. An empty shell where a soul that had once loved and dreamed had been.

  “You may kiss your bride, my lord,” Marcella then said, and Wynter turned to her in shock. No way was that a done deal. They’d said no vows and she certainly hadn’t agreed to marry him, and she was about to tell them both so, when the Priestess used her moment of confusion to her advantage.

  With a cunning grin, she lifted her hand and blew some kind of dust into her face from atop her palm, and Wynter felt herself fall back into Marcus’s outstretched arms. Her initial confusion was followed quickly by nothing but blackness. She felt herself fade away, and not a single one of her magical skills seemed able to stop whatever potion Marcella had brought and had at the ready.

  Her fight truly was over.

  Twenty-One

  The entire exchange was like something out of a horror movie. The bad guy had somehow won, while all the ‘good guys’ were left dead, scattered to the wind, or captured. Poor Wynter had also been forced to endure a transition from fledgling jinni to one of the most powerful forms their kind were capable of embodying, and Brodie still couldn't believe Marcus’s Priestess had sacrificed her baby in order to make it so.

  There were very few Jinn around the globe who possessed the heart of a witch. Doing thus had not only given them an immortal existence, but also a never-ending source of life force to live on. Their strengths depended on the type of witch, of course, but everyone knew Marcus had not aligned himself with a mere elemental coven. No, their power was drawn from the Earth itself and so their supremacy would last forever. Until the end of days, and then some.

  Brodie only wished Wynter realised what that meant. She was now stronger than both Marcus and Marcella combined, but with that power came a curse, because she was connected to them too. By magic, marriage, and also by blood. No power on Earth could part them now, especially since Marcus had also been sure to murder her soul mate while she was protected within the magical circle the Priestess had created.

  The vampire soldiers began to disband, and Brodie could do nothing but watch as Wynter was carried away in the arms of that bastard, leaving him behind on the island they’d called home. He’d fought hard in spite of the never-ending string of vampire foes, but hadn’t had the strength to carry on forever. He hadn’t expected himself to either, but had been ready to die in battle if that was his fate.

  However, after Wynter had pleaded for him to stop, he’d then forced himself to do exactly that and had gladly accepted the precious gift of freedom she had given him.

  There was no choice in it for her, and perhaps there never had been. Marcus was clearly far too formidable an opponent. Too ready to watch the world burn rather than let her have her own way, and even after all the months since they’d left him, he’d still come for her. Laid in wait and, of course, bided his time while they had become complacent.

  They had been such fools to think they could simply hide and let things blow over.

  As the sun then began to rise, he listened for any sound both above and below him, but the vampires truly had gone. Rafferty had hidden, and he didn’t blame him. Goblins were not made for fighting. He wouldn’t know where to start, and he too emerged and began the epic task of cleaning up, while Brodie stood at the cave entrance and glared out at the new day, wondering where Archie was.

  Had he made it to safety and left them far behind? He sure hoped so. But instead, when he reached out for the human with his mind, hoping to sense him somewhere on the mainland, it was to discover he was actually close. Far closer than he ought to be.

  “Damn,” he whispered to himself, and then followed the call to the ledge outside, where he looked across the stretch of sea and towards the lighthouse. The foolish boy hadn’t followed his orders, and he cursed him. Either that, or the storm had swept the currents away from the mainland and taken him into the path of a different kind of danger.

  He jumped straight off the side of the nearest cliff and turned to smoke before hitting the water. Brodie then travelled as naught but the breeze, invisible to even the most cunning eye, and he arrived at the base of the huge lighthouse within mere moments.

  There, still in transition from werewolf back to man, was the island’s sole permanent inhabitant. But that wasn’t true now. Brodie stood watching him, and he picked up on three distinct scents. One was a recently deceased female, another a living woman, and a male. A wave of relief spread over him. Archie was somehow still alive, even after a day and night spent on the island, and Brodie knew he had to get him away from there post-haste.

  He followed the now human werewolf inside the lighthouse without delay, and saw as the man began making up some breakfast in the gully. But Brodie didn’t linger there to keep watch. He instead went up to where Archie and the girl were being kept, and was outraged with what he found there.

  He was strung up and clearly in pain, while the poor young woman was chained to a bed by her wrists. They were both in a bad way. The girl had been physically brutalised and taken advantage of, while Archie had been beaten and was suffering from clear hypothermia.

  Brodie materialised before them, making the woman shriek in shock, but she quickly covered her mouth when Archie assured her he meant them no harm. He made quick work of releasing his friend, and tended to him for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. A dozen dark thoughts were whizzing through his mind. What if the wolf had taken him? What if he had died and had been lost? Brodie didn’t know what he would’ve done.

  And there it was, the realisation of how much he really did cherish him. How he couldn't have handled it if the worst had happened to yet another person he cared about.

  “Save her,” Archie then groaned, and he managed to stay on his feet long enough to give Brodie a defiant stare. He was clearly pleased to see him as well, but they still had a fight on their hands. Still had to get back to the safety of their island and away from the wolf.

  “Of course,” he answered, and was just breaking her chains when the Were came in. He dropped the plates of food he’d brought up with him and quickly lunged for Brodie, but he wasn’t at all in the mood to play any games. A far superior creature, he wrestled him to the ground with ease and then let his instincts take over. Let out his anger and rage on an adversary he could get away with bring down and tearing to pieces.

  He leaned down and ripped a chunk out of the man’s neck with his teeth, which he spat on the floor beside them. He then grabbed his chin and turned his face up to where Archie was leaning against the wall weakly. “He is mine, you fucking heathen,” he bellowed, and the wolf-man nodded in understanding, but it wasn’t enough.

  Brodie had an overwhelming need to protect Archie, and so punched a hole straight through the guy’s chest and ripped out his heart. It continued to throb in his hands for a couple of seconds, but his respite from death was short lived. Wolves were simple enough to kill, thankfully.

  The girl still on the bed screamed in shock, but Brodie knew it was the right thing to do. They would all be better off with the wolf gone. Archie was his property, but as far as the wolf was concerned, that girl belonged to him, and he would’ve come looking if he’d left him alive. So, with their newest foe dead, he grabbed the two captives and they ran out the door and down the stairs without delay.

  He then used up an incredible store of his strength to carry them back to his island using his misty form, but it was worth it. There, they went directly back to what was left of the house, and he immediately called to Rafferty for help. Archie was shivering and seemed ready to collapse, and the girl began screaming like a bloody banshee. She had clearly been through an incredible trauma at the hands of the werewolf, and while Brodie wanted to help her, he felt inept.

  He didn’t know what she needed or if she even wanted their help, so just ushered her into the living room to rest on the sofa there and find her bearings. As he then watched the goblin strike a fire and deliver the two humans with blankets and hot
drinks, all he could do was stand there, hovering like some imbecile who had no clue what to do.

  And so he eventually took a seat beside Archie and tucked him under not one, but two heavy quilts.

  With the fire now blazing in the hearth, the poor young man finally seemed to be warming up, and Brodie couldn't take his eyes off him. He knew then how he’d been nothing less than selfish. He had put himself first and let his ego stop him from getting close to Archie during their initial few months together. He’d foolishly stopped himself from moving forward with his life like both Wynter and Jakob had repeatedly asked him to. And in doing so, he had almost lost everyone he’d come to care about.

  He sat back in the chair and just continued to watch Archie warm through, while the poor girl cocooned herself in the blankets and eventually succumbed to her need for sleep. She had to be exhausted, and he didn’t envy her the nightmares that surely awaited her. He would stay with them, he decided. Be there when either of them needed him.

  “What did you mean, I’m yours?” Archie then whispered, and Brodie said nothing at first. He just stared back at him and then reached for his still icy hand, warming it in his.

  “It means I’m sorry. That I do care and that I want you to stay with me,” he then told him, but wanted desperately to say more, however he couldn't pull together the right words.

  Damn, he really was bad at this.

  “I’m guessing it’s just us left, so am I finally here as your friend? Or are we still looking at this as a business arrangement?” Archie asked, and Brodie knew he deserved the icy edge to his tone.

  He shook his head and then kissed the back of his hand. It was the most tender he’d been with anyone in a very long time and it felt so strange, but also like something inside of him had shifted and cracked open. Perhaps his old heart that he’d welded shut. He didn’t know, but one thing he was sure of, was that Wynter had been right. It was time he opened up and told Archie how he felt.