Crown of Blood: Book Two - Crown of Death Saga

by Keary Taylor

  Chapter 15

  I’m mentally depleted by the time I walk back into Eshan’s room an hour before the sun will come up. It’s been an incredible day, but so draining.

  I’ve just taken my shoes off and changed into comfortable clothes, about to climb into the bed, when my phone starts vibrating.

  Larkin’s name displays across the top.

  With my heart jumping into my throat, I step out onto the veranda and answer.

  “Larkin,” I say breathily. “What have you found?”

  “I’ve been watching the house since I arrived in town,” he immediately reports. “No one has been here since.”

  “So, if there were any other players involved besides the one Cyrus killed, they’ve moved on,” I say, my stomach sinking. Who knows where they’ll go from here.

  “I don’t think so, Sevan,” he says. “There have been two cases of animal attacks at the hospital. The victims don’t remember anything, but they have bite marks and were missing a lot of blood.”

  I sink into a chair. My face feels cold suddenly. “So someone is still in the area. But how would they not know Cyrus has left?”

  “They could think he’s gone just temporarily,” Larkin speculates. “Or perhaps these attacks are separate.”

  “Somehow, I doubt it,” I say. I straighten in my seat, holding the phone to my ear. “Either way, I think it’s time to get the House of Valdez involved.”

  “I called them just before I called you,” he says. “They will arrive in a few hours.”

  I nod. “Good. Something with this still doesn’t sit right, Larkin. It was an attack on Cyrus, but it was weak. Almost as if they were only testing something. I just don’t know what, yet.”

  “I will, my Queen,” he says, and then ends the call.

  I turn and walk back into the bedroom. Silently, I stare at my phone, tapping it on my hand as I consider for several long minutes.

  There are people I care about that are still in Greendale.

  Amelia. Tanner. Emmanuel. My parents are in the next town over, but not far.

  Just a month and a half ago, it was a serial killer who was shredding women and decapitating them. This was only two people bitten, but the danger is still very real.

  I sit in the chair in the corner, still staring at my phone.

  We do this, over and over. Bite innocent people. Take their blood.

  I picture Amelia, puncture marks in her neck, her eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. I picture my mom, stone white, never to offer me a smile again.

  I walked into the room, and the smell of it hit me before my eyes could register what was happening.

  Blood.

  I smelled blood.

  And there was the man lying on the floor, blood running from his neck, spilling onto the floor. Four puncture marks sank deep into his skin.

  “Hel…” he struggled for breath. “Help me.”

  Fear set his eyes wild.

  Kneeling over him—blood, so much blood, dripping down his chin, was my husband. My Cyrus.

  He looked back at me with wide, startled and terrified eyes. Eyes that were glowing red. Eyes that were framed with sprouting, raised black veins.

  “Sevan,” he breathed, his voice cracking. He looked down at his hands, also covered in blood. And then down at the man. As if startled to see him lying there, dying, Cyrus scrambled back away from him, backing into the wall. “Sevan, I…”

  A little whimper-scream muffled over my lips as my eyes filled with tears and I backed across the room. “No,” I muttered. “No, no, no.” I shook my head, over and over as if it could make the last few minutes disappear. “You promised. You promised you would never let this happen again. You promised it would only happen once. You promised you would fix this!”

  Cyrus knelt there, his breathing ragged, his eyes still that brilliant red, glowing so bright. Brighter than anything save the sun.

  “I promise I have been fighting it, Sevan,” he pleaded. “The burn…” He actually made a coughing-growling noise, sounding very much like a predator. “I swear I am burning alive. It calls… I can feel it, the only thing that will stop it is blood.”

  “These are people, Cyrus,” I said, my voice a trembling whisper. “Real human beings. Just like me. Just like…” My lower lip trembled as I stared at the man I married. The man I didn’t even recognize any longer. “Just like you used to be.”

  Cyrus tucked his knees up to his chest, making himself very small. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t supposed to be this way. It worked, I can feel, it worked. But this…” He stared down at his blood-covered hands. He just shook his head, at a loss for words. “I do not know how this is science. How this is magic.”

  I backed up, toward the door. To escape. “This is neither, Cyrus,” I said quietly. “You went against the gods. And now you’re cursed.”

  I turned. And I ran.

  * * *

  A sharp gasp rips through my throat, as if indeed I have been running. The space around me is blurry. Dim gray covers everything. It all feels like smoke.

  But it’s all here, and I exist in two worlds.

  The present.

  Here in this room, at the House of Conrath. My brother lying on the bed as science and magic once more changes a man.

  But I’m also in the past, inside a body that has long since been buried in the ground.

  I reach a hand out, trying to grasp…anything. To feel what is real.

  All I feel is air.

  And then dust chokes my lungs.

  And I grip the smooth, firm surface of the fruit.

  Chapter 16

  I glared at the man as he put the apple in my hand, acting as if he were giving me gold.

  He smiled. Though it was more of a sneer. A sidelong look, with the devil in his eye.

  Kevork was an ugly man. He had a bulbous nose, turned red by too much wine. His skin was pitted and pocked. His hands were gnarled and his nails were always stained yellow, just like his teeth, the ones that were left, anyway.

  “Come,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the street.

  It was lined with tents and merchants. Loud voices called, pitching food and spices, jewelry and shoes.

  Dust billowed in the air. It was suffocating, especially in the heat of summer.

  I loved the market. It was my favorite thing to do, to just wander and take in the sights and smells. Nothing was more alive than the market.

  But today I was with Kevork. I’d rather be anywhere in the world than with the man I’d been promised to.

  He greeted the man selling silk and cotton fabric. They laughed and joked and began talking money.

  I stood there, not better valued than a fat sheep. Kevork held up fabrics to me, commenting on if the color would match my hair, bring out my eyes.

  How it would cling to my figure.

  How easy it would be to rip off come our wedding night.

  Bile rose up my throat as I just had to stand there like a statue while these men laughed about young women on their wedding nights.

  I was already an old bride. I’d fought my parents for the last few years, stalling them, telling them I refused to be pushed into a marriage.

  But no more.

  My parents had given my dowry to Kevork and told him we had to be married by the next moon cycle.

  My fingers rolled into fists and my jaw tightened as my betrothed settled on some fabric for my wedding gown and paid for it.

  I’d been born comfortable. Not the most wealthy in town, but certainly better off than the majority. But I hated it. Money brought arrogance and pride and the loss of humanity.

  I was just a pawn my parents could use to further advantage themselves.

  “Come,” Kevork said, grabbing my arm and dragging me further down the street.

  “Do not touch me,” I hissed, keeping my voice quiet as I jerked out of his hold. I looked around, making sure no other heard me.

  Kevork chuckled and grabbed me once more. �
�It is my right, geghets’ik,” he sneered, leaning in close. “I shall touch you as I like.”

  I jerked away from him again. “I am not your wife yet,” I seethed. “And I will do everything in my power to keep your hands off of me even when I am.”

  His face hardened, his ugly face contorting with rage. “Watch your tongue woman,” he growled. “Or I will have it for dinner.”

  I took a step away from him, walking backwards. “You can try.”

  Oh, he was going to kill me.

  He lunged forward, faster than I expected his old age to permit. His wrinkled hands wrapped around my upper arms, crushing down hard enough I knew I’d be bruised later. Before I could even scream, he dragged me to the side, behind the tents.

  With wide, terrified eyes, I realized we were in an empty alley.

  I could see it in his eyes, exactly what he intended to do to me.

  “No,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Do not lay your hands, or any part of you on me.”

  “It is my right, geghets’ik,” he said with a wicked grin.

  I turned to run, but he grabbed me, shoving me against a wall. My head hit with a crack and little lights burst in my vision.

  He flipped me around, and his disgusting hands greedily groped at my skirts.

  “No,” I muffled, still dazed. “Get…get off.”

  He hauled my skirts up and I heard the sound of buckles and fabric.

  “No,” I said again, blinking to clear my head.

  I searched. My hands swept at the stone wall I was pressed against, looking for anything to fight back with.

  “Step away from the woman!” a voice yelled.

  My vision cleared, my thoughts less foggy.

  A second later, Kevork was ripped away from me, just as I felt his warm skin pressing against private parts of me.

  A possessed yell, scuffling.

  I was frozen for just a moment as I realized just how close he’d been to being inside of me. Of how close he’d been from taking that one thing from me that I only had once to give.

  So close, he was practically there.

  Beneath me, I felt something sharp. My hands wrapped around it.

  A piece of metal. Long and slender.

  I turned, lifting its weight.

  The two men were fighting, but all I could see was Kevork. I raised my weapon, and I brought it down through the air.

  It easily found its way. Split his skin. Cracked bone. Pierced through tissue.

  I embedded the rod through Kevork’s chest.

  He made a small gasping sound. His eyes swung over to me, wide, shocked.

  And then he collapsed to the ground, further impaling the rod though his heart. He made one more gasping breath.

  And then he was dead.

  I was filled with horror. I was.

  But I just stood there, stone faced, looking at his dead body.

  “Are you…” a shaky voice asked. “Are you alright?”

  I remembered that there was someone else in this alley, someone who had pulled the man off of me.

  My eyes slid over, and met the most dazzling ones I’d ever seen. I get lost in those eyes. Green, dark green. Like the trees just before their leaves change color. Leaves in the forest at night.

  He was medium height and build, but he looked strong. Lean arms and trunk. Hands that seemed powerful, powerful enough to stop Kevork.

  His dark hair was thick and wild from the scuffle.

  And his lips. The most beautiful lips I’d ever seen. The top one was slightly fuller than the bottom.

  “Are you alright?” he repeated the question, his eyes full of fight and worry.

  I nodded. I was still slightly numb, perhaps in shock that he’d very nearly raped me, and now he was at my feet, dead.

  “Thank…” my voice came out rough. “Thank you.”

  “Did you know him?” the man asked.

  I swallowed once, tasting blood. I realized I’d bitten my tongue at some point. I nodded. “My parents promised me to him.”

  I couldn’t quite read his expression. I was still in too much shock.

  “Did you love him?” he asked.

  My stomach was actually ill at the suggestion. I shook my head.

  The man nodded. He looked down at the man. “You tell them that he was robbed. That he tried to fight, but the robber killed him, and you escaped.”

  I could feel it, the numbness wearing off.

  And surprisingly, it felt good.

  I felt good.

  I nodded. “What is your name?”

  He met my eyes again. They were still difficult to read. “Cyrus,” he said.

  I took him in then. His ratty clothes suggested he was little more than a hard laborer. But he carried himself in a way that said he could handle himself. There was a humble confidence in the lift of his chin and the gaze in his eyes that I’d never seen before.

  “Thank you, Cyrus,” I offered. “I’m in your debt.”

  He shook his head. “It was only the right thing to do.”

  I shook my own head. “Most would not see it that way.”

  “A person is a person,” he said. “No matter if they are a woman or a man.”

  I smiled, something fluttering in my stomach. No one had ever said such words to me.

  “I’m Sevan,” I said.

  “Like the lake,” he said, smiling.

  I decide then that it was one of the most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen.

  I nodded.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Sevan,” Cyrus said, bowing his head just slightly, but keeping his eyes fixed on me.

  I smiled, feeling my cheeks warm.

  Chapter 17

  Hesitantly, I watched the hut from around the corner. The streets were fairly quiet out here on this far side of town. But I stood there, still. I hardly even dared breathe.

  I saw him once last week. He spoke with a man, engrossed in the conversation. And then the man stepped into his shop, and dragged out a dead dog. Cyrus took it, and carried it back to that hut.

  Two days ago I happened to be walking down the same road. And without looking up, I ran straight into a firm body.

  It was him.

  With smiles and hesitant words, we spoke.

  He invited me to come see his work. He was studying to be a physician.

  But that dead dog… The nearly exiled location…

  I hadn’t found the courage just yet. So out here I stood. Watching.

  I rocked forward onto my toes. My body said go. My heart wasn’t sure why he cared to say the things he’d said.

  Go, every part of my body said.

  I stepped forward. I crossed the street.

  My heart was somewhere in my throat as hesitantly I called his name outside of the hut.

  The fabric parted and there was Cyrus’ face. “Sevan,” he said in surprise.

  I smiled, so nervous. “You invited me, so here I am.”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he said as he stepped aside and let me in.

  The space was dark. It smelled of blood and decay.

  Slowly my vision adjusted, but instead of looking around, I looked at him.

  I smiled hesitantly as he stood in front of me. I searched his eyes, and I was sure that it was genuine happiness to see me.

  “I worried my work might scare you off.”

  I turned then, observing the small space.

  That dead dog lay on a table. It was cut open, its organs set here and there. Beside it, there was also a piglet, cut open similarly.

  In truth, his work did scare me a bit. Cyrus was studying to be a physician, but here were these animals, gutted. And physicians were men you only saw when you’re at death’s door.

  “Come,” he said, turning. He places a hand on my shoulder, ushering me in.

  What I could not see before is now clear.

  There was a mat on the floor, and on it, was a woman. Her skin was pale, damp. She looked so sick.

  Beyon
d her, against the far wall, there was a table. On it lay a man.

  He was dead. I knew it because his chest was cut open, and some of his insides were lying on the table beside him, instead of inside where they belong.

  “Cyrus,” I said in horror as I began turning, my stomach rolling. “I don’t…”

  “Please,” he said, holding onto me. “The things I’ve learned today, I promise, they’re fascinating. I will be able to help so many people now.”

  Warily, I looked up into his eyes. I wanted to run. To erase what I’d just seen from my memory. But there was so much excitement in his eyes, so much hope.

  I couldn’t deny him.

  Hesitantly, I turned back, and he guided me over.

  He explained, excitedly, knowledgeably, but I didn’t understand. Something to do with breathing. Something about the air and the dust. I didn’t really grasp what he tried to explain.

  But Cyrus spoke with so much passion. The way his eyes lit up… The gestures he made with his hands. The excitement he declared at the possibility of helping so many people.

  “It’s amazing, Cyrus,” I said, even if I didn’t understand it.

  He smiled, and it was so beautiful. “So many less will die because of this,” he said. “If only people will give me a chance. People will live longer because of this.”

  There. It flickers into his eyes. A darkness.

  “Who have you lost?” I asked, stepping slightly closer to him.

  His eyes slid away from mine. A muscle in his jaw tightened. “My parents,” he said. “They both died of illness four years ago. They left me alone.”

  I reached forward, but stopped myself before touching his arm. “I’m so sorry,” I offered.

  He looked down, to where my hand fell at my side once more. And as he reached forward, gently taking it himself, my heart fluttered.

  “My days are generally filled with darkness and grief,” he said. “But since that day I met you in the market, they have been a little brighter, Sevan.”

  My name.

  Cyrus said it, and I felt it. It would never sound quite the same again.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day,” he said quietly. His eyes rose from our hands to my eyes.