by Ivy Asher
I dismiss the shock and the thank fuck that fills me at seeing Torrez, and I call on my longsword, giving one last swipe at the injured bear’s neck. His head rolls away from his body, and I send out a silent plea that help is coming as I look up and see two bears closing in on Sabin. I run for him and unleash throwing knives at the bear closest to him, aiming for the eyes and nose. Firing one blade after another, I hope Sabin can hold off the other bear because there’s no way I can take two at a time.
My target swipes at the small knives sticking out of its face, and it rears up to protect its head. I call on my short swords and fall to my knees sliding past the legs of the bear as I slice through the muscles holding it up. My blades meet bone, and I release them calling on immediate replacements to shove up into the belly of the bear as it comes crashing down on top of me. My lungs give up all their air as the furry mass that weighs a fuck ton slams me into the unforgiving ground. I force myself to focus through the panic and hack away at the underside crushing me as much as I can.
I’m covered in blood and gore, and my hold on my knives becomes slippery as I give one last stab and feel the bear on top of me die. I gasp in need of oxygen and magically muscle my way out from underneath the massive shifter. I get up on my hands and knees as I pull myself all the way free, and I’m just in time to look up and watch as the grizzly bear Torrez was fighting rips his stomach open. I try to scream, but nothing comes out as my lungs work to inflate and serve my oxygen-deprived body. I shatter inside as Torrez yelps in pain, and the grizzly bear moves in to finish him.
Desperation and rage surge inside of me as I watch Torrez’s wolf try to crawl away through puddles of his own blood, his organs spilling out from where they’re supposed to be inside of him. My runes light up with violet fury. Sentinel magic pools inside of me and then blazes out, slamming into the bear. The shifter is engulfed in purple flames and the magic blasts him away from Torrez. I run-crawl toward my bleeding wolf, but when I get near him I don’t know where to touch or how to offer comfort, he’s so battered and covered in gouges and bites.
Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! I cry to myself, as I scoop up Torrez’s intestines and try to press them back into his body. He’s not moving, and I’m terrified of what that might mean. A strangled sob bubbles out of my throat, as I run my eyes over his tattered chest trying to detect any movement there. I force Healing magic into him, but it won’t take to any of the injuries, and I scream out my frustration. I scramble towards his face and with blood covered hands and run my palms over the fur around his eyes.
“Stay! Please stay!” I beg, helplessly petting his face and realizing I’m a fucking idiot.
He was right, I am drawn to him, and it’s not in some mysterious where is this coming from kind of way. I like him. I want him. And now I’m going to lose him.
“Mark him, Vinna,” Bastien shouts at me in my head.
“I don’t know how!” I shout out.
The confession slamming into the trees just in front of me and bouncing back to tear at my soul.
“Weave your intention with the magic, Vinna. I read it in that stuff the readers gave you. Chosen have a connection that could save him, but you have to decide what you want.”
I call to my Sentinel magic for the second time tonight and beg it to save Torrez. I don’t weave my intention. I fucking demand obedience. My hands glow deep purple as I place one against Torrez’s head and the other on his battered body. I flood him with Sentinel power and claim him as mine. He jerks against my hands as I flood him with magic, and I watch as he starts to knit together. I seize onto the small amount of hope that swells inside of me that somehow this will work.
A snarl demands my attention, and my head snaps up as the singed bear I blasted comes barreling back towards me and Torrez. A possessive war cry sounds off inside me, and I refuse to let this fucker anywhere near my wolf again. I send one more strong pulse of magic into Torrez and hope it’s enough, as I rise from his body and square off with the shifter. I call on the runes on my toes, and two spiked maces form in my hands. The metal of the weapon is missing the blue sheen of my rune magic that it normally has, and instead is saturated with the purple of my Sentinel magic.
This piece of shit is going to bleed.
I run towards the bear, violet magic streaking in my wake, and I skid to the side as I slam both maces into the bears face in a one-two combo that sends him reeling. One mace gets stuck in the side of his skull, and I let the magic go and call on another. They’re not the most practical weapon in my arsenal; I could make this fast by slicing him up with blades instead, but I need him to suffer. I need him to know with every spike point that brings this piece of shit closer to death, that you don’t fuck with what’s mine!
He swipes at me, but I don’t even feel the claws as they shred my side. I slam him in the head with my mace and follow up with an uppercut to his muzzle. I bring a spiked ball down on his paw as he swipes at me again and the bones shatter in first his hand, and then his forearm as I bring the other mace down hard there too. I twirl around and use the momentum of my spin to slam one mace into his face and the other lands in his throat. His skull gives way to my spiked vengeance, and the bear collapses to the ground. I raise my weapons for the final blow when I notice two people walking slowly towards me.
My haze of rage clears just long enough to see that it’s Sabin, and he has a knife to his neck.
I immediately release my hold on the maces, and they evaporate into nothing as my runes reabsorb their magic.
“Ah, ah, ah, Pet. If a new weapon so much as blinks into existence near you, I will slice his throat!”
Big, Burly Douche punctuates his statement by applying pressure to the blade, and Sabin’s eyes widen in fear. He tries to lean away as the blade knicks his throat, but with the shifter standing behind him using him as a shield, there’s nowhere for him to go to escape the knife and it moves even deeper into his skin.
“Stop!” I demand, and hold up my hands. “No more weapons. I’ll come with you wherever you want, just stop.
He gives a self-satisfied grunt and jerks his chin toward the road that leads into the warehouse. “Start walking, pet. Stay where I can see you and Harry Potter here won’t die an agonizing death right here in front of you.”
I start walking in the direction that he tells me, and about five minutes later I see a black van parked on the side of the road.
“Open the doors and take out the tape and the hood.”
I do as I’m told and then hand them to Sabin as instructed. I hold out my hands as Sabin wraps thick, silver duct tape around my wrists and then my forearms. My eyes stay locked on his as he tapes me up, and it breaks my heart to see how helpless he is right now.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him mentally, and I work hard to blink back the tears that fill my eyes. “I didn’t protect you. I’m so fucking sorry, Sabin!”
A sob wracks my chest, as Sabin pulls a hood over my head and my world goes black.
“I don’t know how close you guys are, but we’re being taken. We’re in a black van, but I can’t tell where we’ll be going from here.”
“Can you stall? We’re less than five minutes away!” Knox begs me.
“He has a knife to Sabin’s throat. I’m taped up in the back of the van. I can’t do anything without risking Sabin.”
Tears stream down my face, and I bite back the shuddering lament that wants to escape me.
“I fucked up. I tried to save Torrez, but I don’t think it worked and I got so wrapped up in wanting to punish the shifter that hurt him, I didn’t watch Sabin’s back. I just left him to fend for himself.”
“Vinna, don’t do that. It’s not your fault; we’re going to get you two out of this. Evrin and Aydin are in a car behind us, they’re going to go check on Torrez. We’ll look for the van and follow you guys to wherever he’s taking you. We’re here, you’re not alone, and as soon as we can, we’ll get you.”
Valen’s words pierce my desolation, and
I try to calm my breathing and get control of my emotions. I don’t know where we’re going, but crying about how I fucked up can happen later. Right now, I need to keep it together and help the guys to get me out of this. I try to recall how far away the nearest airport is and I wonder if Big, Burly Douche will try to bring us to Adriel himself, or if he’ll hand us off to another group of lamia like Faron did.
A small spark of hope kindles inside of me at the thought that somehow Sorik might be part of the group responsible for bringing me in, maybe he’ll be able to help, and the guys will have better odds at a rescue. He tried to warn me that Adriel had something planned, but I thought it would somehow be another lamia attack of some sort.
With that thought, a flash of wolves chasing a bear on their pack run pops into my head. I growl in frustration at myself. How the fuck did I not make the connection? Just how long have these fuckers been watching me?
My body tilts forward as the van makes a turn and slows slightly. I’m not sure how long we’ve been driving, but it doesn’t seem long enough to have left Solace’s boundaries. The brakes squeak as the van comes to a stop and the van door is thrown open. Someone reaches for me, and I move to get away from their grabbing hands, but the shifter holding Sabin at knifepoint tsks me.
“Pet, same rules apply, be nice or else.”
Sabin gives a pained gasp, and I picture the knife pressing into him even deeper. All resistance leaks out of me, and I go limp with compliance. I’m pulled out of the van and thrown over someone’s shoulder. My hood flips up slightly freeing my mouth but gravity doesn't help it lift any further, and my surroundings are still a mystery. I’m carried into a quiet house or building, and scuffled footsteps echo around me as I’m lugged up a flight of stairs. I’m taken off of whoever’s shoulder I’m on and unceremoniously dropped to the ground. I grunt in pain as my shoulder and hip connect with the floor.
I smell floor cleaner of some sort, and it makes me think I’m definitely in a house. I don’t reach out to the guys; instead, I strain to listen to what’s going on around me, trying to piece together any clues as to where I am, and who is here. A door clicks closed, and muffled voices start up on the other side. I can’t make out anything that’s being said, and I tune it out.
“Sabin?” I ask mentally.
He doesn’t answer.
I push back against the panic that bubbles up inside of me and instead I call on a small throwing knife and slowly angle it in toward the tape on my wrists. I get the blade against the tape with serious effort, but I can’t get the necessary friction needed to damage the tape and free my hands. I abandon the plan to cut myself free and reach up to pull my hood off my head, so I can get a look at where I am. Sabin taped my wrists and forearms, but luckily I can still move them. I reach for the hood, and footsteps sound on the other side of the door. I yank my hands down, just as the door squeaks open and heavy footfall makes its way into the room.
“As promised.” The Big, Burly Douche exclaims.
“Yes I can see, thank you,” a man’s voice deadpans, and something about it sparks recognition in me, but I have no idea where I’ve heard it.
“I want double what we agreed upon.”
At that, a scoff fills the room.
“She practically killed my entire sleuth!”
“Then you should have acquired her cooperation sooner! Your incompetence is your own, and I bear no responsibility for it,” the familiar voice exclaims.
“Well then maybe I should see who else is interested in my pet. At the lengths you’ve gone to procure her, I’m sure there are others out there who would be more than happy to meet my price.”
Footsteps move toward me, and the word stop is bellowed out. The footsteps do as commanded and the familiar voice moves towards where it sounds like the shifter is standing.
“As appreciation for your services, please accept this as a token of my gratitude,” the familiar voice coos.
A gasp fills the room, and the sound of fabric moving against fabric feels strangely loud in the space. It goes on for a couple of minutes, and then the room grows quiet. A thump sounds in front of me, and the loud noise makes me jump.
“Filthy shifter,” another male irritably exclaims, and then the room grows quiet again.
“Sabin?” I try again, but the silence in my head and around me is deafening.
The air next to me shifts and the presence of someone next to me is now all I can focus on. The hood over my face is gently tugged off, and I blink against the dim lighting in the room. I turn to track whoever is in here with me, but I spot an unmoving Sabin in a large chair that's pushed up against one wall of the dark wood paneled room. Before I can even think about springing an attack, air rushes past me, and I watch as Sabin’s eyes fly open and he starts grasping at his throat. I push up on my feet and scream for them to stop when I feel a knife pressed flat against my throat.
“Just tell me if he's okay,” I beg, as a figure steps out from the dark corner.
As the shadows fall away from Elder Albrecht’s face, confusion wars with anger inside of me. Looks like the question of where I stand with the elders just got answered.
43
Whatever they’re strangling Sabin with relents, and he starts to cough and struggle to suck in large lungs full of air. Helpless rage slams through me, and I glare at Elder Albrecht. He gives me a polite smile and motions toward a grouping of green velvet chairs on the opposite side of the room. The knife falls away from my neck, and I’m tempted to make a move, but I need Sabin more recovered and ready in case I can’t get to Elder Albrecht and the bald guy fast enough.
So, I follow Elder Albrecht to the designated cluster of chairs and sink down in one with exaggerated defeat.
“He took an unfortunate bump on the head, but he's alive and well as you can see,” he reassures me, as he sinks into his own chair, crossing his legs and leaning back like he’s the fucking king of the world.
The knife-toting bald man saunters over to Sabin and looms over him, the threat clear. I sneak one last glance at Sabin, as his breathing smooths out a little, and I cling tightly to the momentary relief that flashes through me. I turn my attention to Elder Albrecht, ready for him to explain just what the fuck the elders want now.
“Vinna, I must remind you that it is completely in your control if Conscript Gamull continues to stay alive and well. I hope that our unfortunate acquaintance made at least that much clear to you.”
Elder Albrecht turns to look at something on the floor, and I follow his gaze down to find the grizzly shifter that brought me here dead by the door. I feel no sympathy for the wide lifeless eyes that were clearly filled with fear in his last moments. I only wish that I could have dished out the justice myself.
The door opens to the room, and Elder Balfour walks confidently in, closing the door behind him and barely sparing a glance at the dead shifter on the ground, or at Sabin on the couch.
“I called him; he'll be here soon, although I want it noted that I don't like the lack of planning on your part for this.” Elder Balfour announces, flicking his fingers in my direction, indicating that I'm clearly the this he's referring to.
I swallow the retort that snakes up my tongue. I want nothing more than to mouth off to these pricks, and then fucking kill them, but I've already failed Sabin once. I won't let them hurt him again because I can't rein in my temper.
“You worry too much. Everything is working out, despite having to move up our timetable; he won’t be any different. In situations like these, you can't control everything. We just have to take things as they come," Elder Albrecht reassures Elder Balfour, as the squat, balding elder sinks down into a seat across from me.
I fix him with a murderous stare and wonder how long it will take for the rest of the elders to show up.
“Don’t answer back, I need to stay focused on what’s happening here, but it’s the elders who are behind this. I’m staring at Elder Balfour and Elder Albrecht right now,” I tell the guys.
/> I don’t know what they’re going to be able to do with that information, but maybe they can think of something I can’t. I breathe through the mounting rage that's festering inside of me as I fight my need to act, to kill each of these corrupt men. Elder Balfour won’t look at me, but Elder Albrecht watches me like a cat stalking prey.
“We’ll be joined soon, and then you will need to make a very important decision,” he informs me, as he steeples his hands in front of him.
It makes every inch of him so much the cliched villain, that I fight to keep from rolling my eyes.
“We know what you are, and subsequently what you can do, and your decision is simple, share your magic with us, or refuse, and we’ll kill your mates. Then, we’ll hand you over to a certain lamia who has been keen to get his hands on you. I can’t imagine that life would be very pleasant for you, but I suppose it’s ultimately your choice.”
Elder Albrecht flicks an imaginary piece of lint from the knee of his crossed legs, his casual tone, and body language giving off the impression that talk of me handing over my magic or being tortured into it, is the kind of casual conversation he takes part in every day.
“I still don’t understand why we can’t just take it,” Elder Balfour mumbles, still refusing to look at me.
Elder Albrecht glares at him, his calm, patient persona, cracking, and the irritation he has for his fellow council member seeping out.
“If I chose to share, what happens then?” I ask, pulling Elder Albrecht’s attention back to me.
“Once the transference is complete, you will be free to live life with your mates.”
I lock my muscles against the shudder that tries to break free at the thought of what I’d be required to do with these disgusting, power-hungry parasites in order to give them my magic. If he thinks for one second that I believe that I’d just be free to go about my life after that, then he’s a fucking idiot.