Black Blood

by S. D. Grimm

  He shook his head and tried to calm his shaking nerves. It didn’t work. His wolf form wanted to shift just below the surface. This moment was ripping him apart limb from limb. He didn’t even recognize his own body right now. He needed to let the power out. He ran as far away from the Feravolk as he could.

  Ran until it was safe to shed his clothes and run in wolf form. And then he caught the scent of Westwind loping toward him.

  Connor stopped and turned, his insides vibrating. Burning. He lowered his head and growled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get away from me. Far away.”

  Westwind halted. “What’s wrong with—?”

  “I command you as the Wielder to run from here!”

  Westwind’s ears flattened, and his back arched as he lowered his head. Then he fled.

  Good. Tears leaked out of Connor’s eyes as he raced farther, deeper into the woods.

  “Master?” Cliffdiver’s voice filled his mind. “You are—”

  “Stay away! Please! I can’t let you get hurt.”

  “As you wish.” Cliffdiver sounded sad, but he’d been through this with Connor enough times. Cliffdiver at least would understand. He hoped. He pushed himself to the limit and ran faster. Until he couldn’t contain the raging storm inside any longer. With a roar, he set a blast of his power free.

  The explosion rocked through his core—an echo of what he’d felt in his body. Only when the tremors beneath his paws died away did he open his eyes to survey the damage.

  Trees surrounding him for at least a hundred meters had shattered.

  His power had upturned the earth. Sent birds and squirrels to their deaths. Made the area surrounding him a barren wasteland. He walked amid the disaster he’d created and sat beside what looked like a family of dead squirrels. Then he scanned the area. Dead animals lay everywhere in the wreckage he’d created. One by one, he dug a hole and buried their tiny bodies, and then he howled. The mournful sound ripped through his heart and left an ache in his chest.

  What had she done to him? He was ruined now.

  Ruined. Slowly, Connor stood. He shook his coat and turned back toward the Feravolk camp. Ruined or not, he still needed to find the answers in Quinn’s book. He winced. And probably ask her forgiveness for yelling at her.

  By the time he’d made it back to Quinn’s tent, he was exhausted. That surge had taken everything out of him. He made sure his shirt was as properly tied as he could make it, then called out, “Quinn? Are you in there? It’s Connor.”

  He waited, but no one answered. He turned to leave, but her voice from inside the tent stopped him.

  “I’m sorry I touched you.” Her words quivered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He swallowed and faced the tent again. “Quinn, can I . . . can I come in and talk to you?”

  “Why would you want to?”

  “I need to know if there’s anything in that book that’ll tell me what I can do to save everyone when I open the door of death.”

  Shuffling inside the tent told him she was approaching the door. He waited. She pulled the tent flap back and stood there, clutching the book to her chest, using her hair to hide most of her face. But her pink nose and one visible red-rimmed eye made it clear she’d been crying. “I haven’t read it all. I—I think it wore me out.”

  He wanted to comfort her but stepped back instead. When she finally looked into his eyes, the wolf beneath his skin wanted to shift. To run. He forced himself to remain focused.

  Heat.

  Fur.

  Heat.

  Skin.

  He cleared his throat. “Quinn, I know we don’t have a lot of time. I don’t want to rush you, but—”

  “I know. And I’m sorry.” She moved aside. “Please come in.”

  He took a deep breath and stepped inside, careful not to let any part of him touch her, lest she trigger another outburst of his power.

  “I guess I was just a little overwhelmed.” She walked past him and over to the bedrolls on the ground, every movement cautious. She sat and looked up at him as if inviting him to join her. “Where did you go?”

  He stared at her. How was he supposed to answer that? The images of the massive grave he’d dug today caused his throat to feel thick.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” She hid behind her curtain of hair again and set the closed book in front of her.

  Connor sat, but not too near.

  “I think I found something,” she said.

  The pages fluttered open, and Connor drew tentatively closer. She pointed. “This looks important. If you can use it to open the door of death, it will magnify your powers.”

  He reached for the book with his right hand, which wasn’t there, then his left, still trying to quiet his simmering thoughts. His shaking soul. “What’s on this page?”

  “You can’t see it, either?” She scooted closer and his body warmed.

  Heat.

  Fur.

  Skin.

  He created more distance.

  She looked up at him, and her eyebrows pulled together. She shook her head. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t touch you.”

  Damage done. “I know—just—please.”

  She breathed deep. “It’s called a Wielder’s tool. I think it’s some sort of bracer.”

  The bracer? He needed it? Then why had it made him feel sick? Maybe because it wasn’t the whole piece. Did he also need the rings? “Will it kill me?”

  “Not if I touch you while you use it.”

  “If you touch me?” Was that it? He needed a Whisperer to be able to wield it. That made sense. He rubbed his hand over his face. So it was inevitable.

  “It’s a powerful weapon, and it needs to be handled with someone who is in perfect balance. If you use it, with your power, it could kill you. But if I touch you, the door of life will also open.”

  The door of life? Then everyone wouldn’t have to die. Only half. Half! He rubbed his eyes and growled. Could he do nothing more than that?

  She bit her lip and looked at him. “I’m sorry it would come to that.”

  Sorry? For what? He looked up at her and her big eyes. Oh. She meant because she’d be there. She might die. It was her or him. Half of the team. He swallowed. “I’m sorry, too.” Where was the bracer?

  “Your mother gave it to me the night she left.” Cliffdiver’s voice filled his head. “I placed it in your room. I came looking for you. I . . . saw . . . this was your largest surge of power. Are you all right?”

  Connor’s chest squeezed. He was anything but all right. The only way to fix this was to see it through. End it. “Thank you, friend. I am for now.”

  So the bracer had been in the palace when the Mistress destroyed it. His heart sank. He had to find it. “What about the next page?”

  Tears trailed down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly. All of this must be overwhelming to her, too. Or else she knew it would possibly kill her. If he could prevent it, he would. But he couldn’t promise her that. Not until he knew for sure. Creator, take me, not her. Please.

  She sniffed. “Oh. Umm, it says that Whisperers and Wielders complete each other.”

  “Is that why you touched me?”

  “You needed me to in order to get your powers.”

  A lump formed in his throat. She knew. And she was terrified of him. He ran his hand through his hair. “I needed you to wait. I—”

  “It would’ve overtaken you.” Pink colored her nose and cheeks. “Your power won’t die off inside you. If I didn’t complete the circle, it would have taken over completely. It would have killed you.”

  Heat.

  Skin.

  Heat.

  Fur.

  Skin.

  He moved back.

  “Here.” She pointed and held out the book so he could see. He reached for it with the wrong hand and growled at himself. With his left hand, he tore it from her grasp more harshly than intended.

  She shrank away from him.

&n
bsp; He wanted to apologize, didn’t want her to be afraid of him, but truthfully, he’d be afraid if he were her. He looked at the blank pages. “I–I still can’t—” he stopped when he caught sight of her wide eyes and open mouth. “I’m sorry I growled. It wasn’t you.” He held up his half-arm. “I’m getting used to this—I keep trying to use my right hand.”

  “Oh.” She offered a sad smile. “I’m sorry you’re frustrated. I’m sure it doesn’t help that I haven’t read the whole book and I keep doing things you don’t want me to.” She looked at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her dress. “I can read more. And I won’t touch you unless you’re using the bracer.”

  Now he’d done it. “It’s not you, Quinn. I—” Her interactions with people hadn’t incited trust, and here he was making her afraid and pushing her to do things and chastising her for . . . heaven’s sake . . . for touching him. Whether or not pushing her away was better for her, he needed to apologize. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to scare her again. She must be wondering what kind of a person he was. “Quinn.”

  She breathed in sharply as she turned toward him. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

  Damage done. But he needed her to trust him. “I’m not.”

  “You aren’t?” She tucked one leg underneath her and stared at the ground. “I’ve been alone for most of my life. Sometimes I just get a bit overwhelmed and don’t know how to communicate appropriately with others.” She offered a sweet smile and swept her hair behind her ear so he could see her whole face. “I bet you didn’t ever get lonely in the palace.”

  He breathed deep. “It’s easy to be lonely when no one understands you.”

  “Even with others around all the time?”

  “Especially then.”

  She shifted her weight, and her arm brushed against his. A tingle rushed through him. His body wanted to shift. Started to shift. Connor snatched his arm away from her at the same time that she jumped back. “I’m sorry, Connor. I didn’t mean to.”

  He’d done that. She probably thought he hated her. “It’s okay.”

  “It is?”

  He sighed. “I have problems communicating appropriately, too.”

  She looked at him, eyes wide. “But didn’t you grow up around people?”

  “Yes. And I have a tendency to push them away.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say “oh,” but her expression changed, and she seemed a little sorry for him. “Well, you don’t need to push me away.”

  Those words pierced his soul. If she only knew. “Quinn, can you tell me what you saw about the passage relating to the four thrones? I think it can help me find them.”

  “Yes.” She flipped the pages while he got out his map book.

  She sucked in a breath when she saw it. “There are instructions here.”

  He looked at the pages as the instructions became visible. This was new. Wait. He tilted his head. He’d been looking at the map all wrong. The Deliverers wouldn’t need to split up and head to different thrones at the ends of Soleden. He folded the pages as instructed, and the rivers and landscape formed a shape as the folds lined them up. It appeared to be a huge tree.

  “The ancient white alor,” Quinn said.

  “You know it?”

  “I was born from it. A seedling that fell into the flaming nest of a phoenix.” She smiled. “It’s in the middle of the Forest of Legends.”

  Connor sighed. “We have to tell Logan.” He stood and held out his hand for her.

  Her eyelashes fluttered and she stared at it. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Her fingers slid over his skin, and he focused on staying human. Then she pulled against him, feather light, and stood. “We’re meant to be a team, Connor.”

  “I know.” And he was meant to kill her or die.

  Chapter 50

  Door of Hope

  Logan paced in front of his tent. Even a day and a half away, he was

    still too close to the shadow of the demolished palace. He couldn’t stay here for another moment—wounded warriors or not. The Mistress knew approximately where they were. The stench of death and decay still rode on the wind. Her blood tainted everything. The animals had started fleeing.

  Desolation spread. And just a few hours ago, a strange explosion rocked the land.

  Connor raced up the hill, Quinn following him. “Logan, call the others. We found the four thrones. I know how to defeat her.”

  Logan looked at Westwind. “Please tell me I heard him right.”

  Westwind just smiled. “Your ears already betray you?”

  “Tell me our bond isn’t too weak, friend.”

  “Never.”

  Quickly, Logan invited the group of his most-trusted members to his tent. The Deliverers, and Connor, Quinn, Morgan, Melanie, Gavin, and Rebekah. As soon as he had all the information he needed, he himself would go to Alistair and tell him the next move.

  The moment they were all seated, Logan nodded for Connor to explain everything.

  “It’s the center of the Forest of Legends,” Serena said.

  “Have you been there?” Logan asked her.

  “Yes. Healers visit the white alor tree there. It’s said to guard the heart of the forest. There are ruins there—some kind of old castle. All that’s left is the foundation and a few pillars. Everything’s covered in vines. There is a secret chamber below the foundation. It used to be a hiding place that was turned into a dungeon of sorts at some point.”

  “That’s where we go.” Logan looked at Connor. “And you know how to defeat the Mistress?”

  “I have two options,” Connor said. “I don’t have the bracer, so my power will not be magnified. I will have to be close enough to the Deliverers to use my powers to open the door of death. That’s what we have to push the Mistress through. But she’ll have to be weak enough first. I’m certain she must be now. The Deliverers can push her through the door.” He looked at Ethan. “More specifically, you can push her though with your wind.”

  “My—I’m sorry?”

  Connor smiled. “It seems I’ll have to tell you all what your powers are.” His smile faded, and he glanced at Logan. “If Quinn is touching me, the door of life will also be opened and her symbiotic power will counteract much of the destruction my power will cause. In other words . . . if she isn’t touching me when I open the door, everything will die.”

  Logan looked at Quinn. Her hazel eyes met his, big and round and innocent. Then he turned his attention back to Connor. “Everything?”

  “If I expel that much power, yes. But if she is touching me, it’s only half of everything.”

  “Half?” Melanie’s voice was quiet.

  “Two of the Deliverers will die. Quinn or I will die. Half of our army will die.”

  Logan clenched his jaw. He hadn’t come this far to let these kids die. To let anything claim them. “All right. We keep Quinn near you at all times.”

  Quinn gasped.

  Logan glanced at her. She’d dropped her hands to her lap and stared at the ground, cheeks blushing. He didn’t want to put her in danger, either. But he understood now why Wielders married Whisperers. “What if you have the bracer?”

  “My power will reach farther. I will be able to direct the door of death from farther away. That means I won’t need to be as close to the Mistress as I would without the bracer.”

  “But you can do this without the bracer?”

  “Only if we get to the thrones before the Mistress’s power taints all the land.”

  “We race time now.”

  “Or we kill her first,” Ryan said. “You said she’s weak enough, right? And she’s close?”

  Connor nodded. “Killing her isn’t enough. We have to push her through the door of death.”

  “She already has the heart, mind, strength, and soul of the Deliverers.” Melanie leaned over the table. “If you get close to her while you wield the Creator’s power and she gets it, we’re done for. Maybe
it’s meant to stay locked up?”

  “How would she unlock it?”

  “The keys,” Quinn said. She pointed to the book. “See these wooden tokens?”

  The tokens Anna had given Logan appeared on the page. “I have those in my possession.”

  “The Deliverers need them when they approach the thrones. That’s how they receive the Creator’s power, I think. I don’t understand this part about the power being unique gifts they have possessed from the beginning, though. But it’s clear that the power is unlocked when all four keys are there together with the Deliverers.”

  “So the Mistress can’t get the power either. Not without these?”

  “Well, that’s easy enough. We won’t give it to her,” Jayden said.

  Morgan sat up straighter. “I saw something you’re not going to like.”

  “What?” they all asked.

  “The bracer. On someone’s arm.”

  “Whose?” Ethan asked.

  “Belladonna’s.”

  Ethan touched the black scar on his chest.

  “Good.” Ryan’s voice was dark. “She’s someone I’ve been meaning to kill.”

  Logan glanced at Ryan and prayed the kid would regain his kind heart. Then he swallowed and turned to Connor. “Can we get the bracer back?”

  Morgan closed her eyes. “I see her at the thrones. You’re all there.”

  “Do we get the bracer?”

  “My visions aren’t as strong as they used to be.”

  “That’s fine,” Logan said. His thoughts churned.

  “Ryan and I also have news.” Serena pushed the counters book to the center of the circle. “I know how to cure the black blood. Idla used a mix of black lion venom and then a spell to stop the damage. Stop it, but keep it knitted into the person’s heart. Not so deep it completely taints their hearts. If we cast the cure spell, some of their hearts will be too tainted to survive without making them mad. But in the ones whose hearts are only slightly tainted, that process could be reversed.”

  “Like Ryan?” Jayden nearly jumped forward to grab Serena’s hand.

  Ryan stood behind her. He swallowed and wouldn’t look in Ethan’s direction.

  Serena’s breath shook. “Ryan’s . . . his heart is tainted deep. But he was never spelled. The old Whisperer saved him. The spell is what kept these other soldiers from becoming what—” She paused and looked at Ryan.