by S. D. Grimm
“Impressive.” Franco chuckled. “Faster than even Madison. Will the tattoo stay?”
Belladonna looked into Serena’s eyes and smirked. “We can find out. Do you have the potion?”
Serena’s heart stalled. Her soul cried out like a scream at the bottom of a well. She was trapped. She belonged to no one. This unicorn would not be bridled. A fire lit inside of her, and she started to pull at her bound ankles and wrists. What were broken bones that would heal? Missing skin that would regrow? A small price to pay for her soul.
Franco dipped a long, metal stick into a jar of black liquid. No! He would not mark her for all eternity!
She screamed.
“Serena?” Dash’s voice filled her mind. She tried to block her thoughts from him again. He couldn’t save her from this. They’d only take him, too.
Belladonna held her head to the side, and Serena bucked against the chains. A huge man, wearing leather bands with spikes, smashed her into the stone wall. The shackles pulled her wrists, and her shoulders popped from their sockets. “Be still, sprite. Just a dab of bandy weed for you.”
No!
He leaned too close and she bit his ear. Ripped.
He roared. “Stupid girl.” Then his fist met her face and her vision wavered. Winked out.
She woke with a start and the harsh pain of a needle in her neck. Her heart fell to her stomach. Everything inside of her squeezed. “No!” She was unable to move. “No!” The word drew out in a tearful mourning. And it echoed in the depths of her soul.
Her will would no longer be hers.
And that would make her soul captive to the one who had placed his blood in with the black lion’s in that cursed, spelled liquid.
“It’s done. You’re mine.” Franco’s breath heated her hair. The burn in her neck cooled. Healed. Sealed the ink into place. Her own talent had made her prisoner. She’d been marked.
Franco’s voice grated. “And look, it’s healing. Her powers are back.”
The beefy man released her, and she fell to the ground.
“It’s too late.” Even in her thoughts her voice trembled.
“No.” Dash’s thoughts pulsed pain and agony into her. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“They knocked me out.”
“Now what?” His question felt hopeless at first. Then the fire inside of him ignited. The fire of hope. She could not lose hope.
She clenched her fists. “Now I get Ryan and Madison, and I figure out how to kill Franco. Because no man will claim me, Dash. Not for long.”
“Good girl.”
“Now.” Franco rubbed his hands together. “Whip her again. I want to see how this works.”
The jagged metal and rock scraped across her skin. Tore it open. Again. Another lash. Another. Again and again they whipped. And her cries echoed off the walls, pounding in her ears, louder and louder until Ryan’s head popped up.
His gaze met hers, and she fought to keep from passing out. Another lash pelted her. Another scream.
“Stop healing yourself.” Franco’s voice cut through her cries.
Something steel seemed to push against her will. Unbreakable. It hurt to draw breath. The tattoo pulsed, and her body stopped healing. “No!” Tears escaped through her closed eyes.
“Now whip her again.”
“Please!” The word escaped her mouth. Not for the pain. For mercy. He’d stolen her will to heal.
Another lash.
“Please.” It came out as a strangled sob.
Another burning rip across her skin.
With each new cut, her will to heal suffocated. She could feel the hope draining from her. Dash began to kick against his stall.
“Again!”
“Stop!” The sound of a sword being unsheathed made her open her eyes.
Ryan stood in front of her, sword drawn against the king.
She sucked in a breath. He’d be killed. “Ryan!”
He didn’t seem to hear her plea. He slashed, and his blade dragged across Franco’s exposed chest.
Serena trembled, trying to support the weight of her own head.
Madison cried out and pressed her hands against her chest as Franco’s wound healed. Ryan swung again, but Franco’s guards sprang to face him.
“Stop. Please!” She begged him, but he wasn’t hearing her.
He stabbed one guard through and clashed swords with the next. Men started to surround him. Too many. One stabbed Ryan through, and he fell to his knees. Another pressed a blade to his neck. Serena screamed.
“Stop!” Belladonna yelled. “If you kill him, the Mistress will strike you down where you stand.”
The men halted. Ryan looked up from where he hunched over on the ground even as Belladonna pressed her hands against his wound and healed him.
Franco grabbed Serena’s hair. “Heal yourself, witch.”
Immediately her wounds closed. She spat in his face, and he smacked her. Ryan lunged from the ground, but the guards blocked him.
“Punish him, then put him in the dungeon.” Franco turned to Serena. “Put them both in the dungeon.” Then he grabbed Belladonna’s collar. “Control your pet, or lose him.”
Someone else’s pain ripped into Serena’s side, and she glanced at Kara, who fell to the ground, knife in her gut. Madison staggered away from her.
Franco snarled. “Heal her!”
Madison dropped to her knees and healed Kara.
“What happened?” Franco demanded.
Kara motioned to Madison. “Seems your Healer had a weapon. She stabbed me.”
Lie. Serena could hardly breathe. Kara had set everything up. Serena’s heart sped so fast she thought she’d never contain it.
“Put her in the dungeon, too.” Franco stalked out of the room.
Now everything depended on trusting Kara.
Chapter 29
Blue Weed
Ethan scanned the dismal patch of brown and gray ahead of them, Zephyr and Quinn walking near him. No blue weed in sight—they needed it in order to get through the Mistress’s next level. They’d found the firemilk already and sent Zephyr to take it to Melanie. It had to work. Zephyr had already returned but had no news of Jayden’s condition.
No trace of black veins around her eyes.
Hope shuddered within him, desperately trying to stay alive. A strange whooping laughter echoed over the breeze and made his insides clutch. The sound wanted to cut down his rising hope. He wouldn’t let it.
Zephyr bristled next to him. “They smell you.”
“The maelvargs,” Quinn whispered.
“That’s what we face in the next level?”
She nodded. “The blue weed keeps them away.” She closed her eyes. “I see it. The trees are showing me. It’s a slender plant with a long, blue tassel-like flower.”
Ethan swallowed. He knew the trees were showing her what to get and where to look, but it took everything to keep from yelling at them to hurry up and give her the message already. “I thought you said the trees would—”
“Hush.” Quinn’s voice was calm, soft even, but Ethan turned around, ready to slam his fist into anything.
He wanted to know how Jayden was doing. Zephyr had said she appeared fine when he left, but that wasn’t enough.
A twig snapped. Quinn spun around, pressing her back against his side and breathing rapidly.
He steadied her. “Hey, you okay?”
She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. The whooping laughter that they’d heard all day drew closer.
Ethan scanned, but saw nothing. “What do you know about these maelvargs?”
She trembled. “They’re awful. Armored with spikes on their tails and horrible, sharp teeth.”
“These aren’t poisonous though, are they?” It seemed everything the Mistress created was.
“She poured poisoned blood into everything she created. Maelvargs’ laughs are their poison. They’ll look deep into your soul and laugh. If you let yourself stare at them, the laughter can pa
ralyze you.”
Great. He offered her a smile. “Stick close then, okay?”
She stared at him and her lips parted. Then her face turned soft in a way that reminded him of Kinsey. “Ethan, you would protect me.”
“Of course.”
Something about her smile looked older. “I wasn’t asking.” Her forehead wrinkled, and she stepped closer to him, taller than his chin. So she had grown. She tilted her head, and one corner of her mouth pulled down. “You shouldn’t protect me, though. I should protect you.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll protect you, Quinn. No matter what.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I feel a pull of protection for you.” He sighed. “One of my talents is to feel threats for those I love.”
“Like family?” Her eyes rounded.
“Exactly. But associated with that is this . . . need to protect.” Ethan shook his head. It was hard to put his talent into words. “I feel threats for Logan, you understand?”
She nodded.
He pointed to his chest. “But I don’t feel an ache in my very core to protect him.” Why was this so hard to say? “When I feel a threat for you, or Jayden, or Serena, or Ryan, I—I have to intervene or I think my heart would beat through my chest.”
She touched his arm and her hazel eyes grew wide. “Even if it puts you in danger?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re telling me I have to stay out of harm’s way or you could throw your life away for my sake?”
“I’m saying I would gladly give my life to keep you safe.”
“Heavens, Ethan. The Creator must have given you this power for a reason, but I sure hope he gave you enough protection.”
“What?” The word came out with a laugh.
She smiled. “You’re a Deliverer with the heart of a Protector.”
Ethan breathed deep. No response outside of acceptance was adequate. “I think it’s time for you to learn a little about sparring. What do you say?”
“Whisperers don’t fight, Ethan. We hedge and protect. We heal and grow. We’re not supposed to kill. Her eyes met his, and, for the first time, he saw anger there.
“No one is supposed to kill, Quinn.”
She glanced away from him. “Yet you do.”
Her words broke the wall. The faces of all the men and women he’d killed tried to knock on the door of his being. Too often he brushed them into his peripheral vision. Sometimes he saw them. Dead. Dying. Crying out. A weight he wasn’t willing to let crash down on him until this was done. Right now it wasn’t done. He could handle it. It wouldn’t break his resolve. But the way Quinn looked at him now, that wall started to dissolve.
What he’d done.
It would crush him.
He swallowed, pushing it all back. “I do.” His voice cracked. “And I will continue to do so to keep those I love safe.”
Her delicate hand touched him and stopped him from walking. “And I love you for it.”
A lump caught in his throat as he looked at her. “You . . .”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ethan. That might be your path, but it isn’t mine. Violence is not mine. I’m sorry it’s a burden you must bear.”
The air rushed out of his lungs, and he turned away from her, afraid that she might actually be able to see inside of him. Tears fought to form, and he breathed deep, forcing them away. “Me, too.”
Her soft fingers brushed against his arm. “We are in the middle of a war. Your strength is the ability to see what others don’t in a shard of a moment and make hard decisions out of love. I don’t understand it, but I understand you. Your ability to take life or spare it is a strength I do not possess. And I am blessed to have you as my protector.”
“She gets you.” Zephyr’s voice urged him to face Quinn again. He didn’t expect to see her smile. He wanted to thank her for understanding him, for not seeing him as a monster. But instead of speaking, he expressed his gratitude with a returned smile. Then something on the ground behind her caught his attention as it rippled in the wind.
“Hey.” He pointed to the small, fragile plant. “Isn’t that blue weed?”
She spun around and crouched near the small, blue flower. “It is.” Her smile was bright, but it faded. “There isn’t enough.”
“You can grow more.”
“I don’t know how.”
He crouched next to her. “I watched a Whisperer do this once. She started humming and the plant grew until it seeded.”
Quinn laced her fingers together and pressed them beneath her chin as she stared at the plant. “Call the life cycle to end to create more life. I have to kill it.”
“Kill?” Ethan’s voice sounded a bit dry.
“There are consequences for everything we do. Any of us. But you know that already.” She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and smiled. “You have to be willing to face them.”
“Are you?” he asked, but the question seemed more for himself once he said it. All that life he’d taken. He would have to face it sooner or later.
She started humming, and the blue flower danced in a breeze he couldn’t feel.
Chapter 30
Proper Punishment
Another lash ripped across Ryan’s back, and he whimpered, not
enough strength left to even scream.
“That’s enough.” Butch’s voice clamored through the ringing in Ryan’s ears. Ringing from clamping his jaw so tight.
“It doesn’t pay for what he did.” Belladonna struck him again.
His vision darkened. He was so tired. No fight left in him. His eyes closed. Blood dripped from his mouth. Sweat from off his nose.
“You’ll kill him. He’s moments from death.” Butch defending him. Now that was funny. If he wasn’t so tired, he might actually joke about it.
“He betrayed me for that inferior Healer!” Belladonna’s voice screeched.
Inferior Healer?
Serena.
He’d—heavens, where was she? The dungeon. How had he not recognized her the moment they brought her into the palace? How had he stood by and let them hurt her? He wanted to shake his clouded thoughts. Everything inside of him hurt.
You cannot die. That voice gripped him, and he sputtered awake. Was it his? Another lash brought tears to his eyes. “You and I are bound now. You have to live.”
For her? Never.
But Serena was still in the dungeon. He couldn’t leave her there. Not after what he’d let them do to her. That was something to live for.
The door slammed open, and Ryan didn’t need to turn to know who ushered the cold air into the room. The Mistress was here. “If you kill my vessel to this land, I will rip your head off, place it back on your body, and rip it off again. Do you hear me?”
Belladonna set down the whip. “Yes, Mistress.”
The shackles loosened, and Ryan fell to the ground. More pain shot through him, but he hurt too much to know from where.
“Now heal him . . . but not fully. I can’t have him trying to escape.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Belladonna dropped to her knees beside him as the Mistress’s presence left the room. Not his head. She never left his head.
“Pet?”
He tried to answer.
Belladonna pulled him onto her lap, and he whimpered like a dog.
“What have I done?” she asked.
“You . . . whipped me.”
“You made a mistake. You have to know that’s why this happened. If you hadn’t made such a terrible mistake, I wouldn’t have had to hurt you.”
He wanted to spit in her face, to tell her she was crazy, but her healing bled into him. Coursed over the ripped skin. Mended cracked ribs. Replenished his blood. And he gripped that feeling. Let it flow through him. He craved the healing. Needed it. He was her snared pet. “Thank you.”
She smiled and leaned closer to him. That familiar taste of pears filled his mouth as she kissed him. And suddenly he ne
ver wanted to betray her again.
They tossed him into the dungeon. This cell was smaller and danker, and it carried the heavy scent of death. His back stung with every movement as he lowered himself to the straw and lay on his stomach. Why did she have to leave so many half-healed gashes? If he never had to move again, that would be all right.
“Ryan?” A small voice told him the cell across the room from his was occupied. White light glowed in a small sphere in the person’s palm, lighting up her face.
He knew that face. She—a thunderous roar split his head.
“You don’t want to know her. She is a Healer. You know what Healers do to you. Don’t you?” Smoke’s voice was like a carriage across crushed gravel.
“They heal.”
“They wound.”
The dragon was right. And Ryan’s blood burned. “They take away my free will. They torture and tease and . . . hurt.”
“That’s right. The Mistress won’t do that to you. She won’t make you her pet. She will make you her lover. Fire-bringer.”
“Fire?”
“You can control the fire, can’t you?”
His palms heated and flame burst in the center. Started the straw on fire. He tamped it out with his hand. Nothing singed him.
Smoke laughed. “Be careful. That room is full of straw. You will light it on fire.”
“Can you hear me, Ryan?” The girl across from him leaned closer to her cell bars.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” He sat up, slowly—unable to keep from groaning—and pressed his back against the cold wall. It stung first, then brought some relief.
“She doesn’t heal you fully.” The white light made a halo around her face. Her beautiful face. Did he know her?
“Too much healing would make me soft.”
“I don’t think those are your words.”
He nodded. They weren’t. Fitting. His thoughts weren’t his own anymore—why would his words be?
“Too many voices in your head, Fire-bringer?” Smoke laughed.
“Shut up.”
“You deny our bond.”
“I do.”
“You don’t because I’m still here.”
Ryan closed his eyes and pressed his palms against his head.