E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Adjust it by forty minutes,” I said before grabbing the body patch that kept track of my temperature to slap it over my shoulder.

  Rhys had a top-notch metalsmith room that was about to kick my ass. I placed the mold on the table before me, grabbing the cauldron without gloves or protection, and dumped the contents of the melted metals into the blade mold. Once I finished pouring, I set the cauldron down, pushing my bare hands into the ice-cold water set beside the table. I turned to gauge Rhys’s response outside the room. His eyes were locked on my hands as if expecting them to be charred.

  After a few moments had passed, I poured cold water over the mold to solidify the metal. The hiss of steam comforted my mind, soothing over me as a soft smile played on my mouth. I loved creating weapons, but Winchester had warned me several times not to make anything other than ammo. Though, she had never told me why or what was so dangerous about the process.

  Next, I pulled the glowing red blade from the fire and carefully placed it into the water, looking over the shape. I pulled it out quickly, and set it back onto the coals to keep the metal at the heated temperature I needed, placing it on a long table, grabbing the hammer beside me. I started shaping the sword slowly, pounding the hammer against it as sweat dripped down my face, sizzling against the glowing metal. I beat it slowly, forcing it into the correct shape, solidifying the metal together.

  Once the metal became too hard, I placed it back into the forge and hummed with magic, slowly holding my hands over the blade to enhance its strength. Silently, I added detailed runes, slowly etching them into the dragons I engraved over the blade. As an extra touch, I added the Van Helsing crest on the chest of the dragons. Rhys’s name sat on the other side of the sword, written in old lettering that enhanced the weapon’s overall look.

  I repeated the steps until I was satisfied with my creation. Moving to the thermostat, I turned the temperature down, spinning on my heel to stand near the glass wall where Nyx waited. Her lips turned up as she and I began to do jumping jacks, her eyes never leaving mine, laser-focused as the room started dropping in temperature at a dangerous speed.

  My forge had been built by me, allowing the temperature to drop over time. Rhys didn’t have that option, which meant I’d have to keep moving or chance hurting myself. I’d known that coming into it, since most didn’t plan for a person to be within the room as the weapon finished curing.

  My eyes fluttered closed, and Nyx slammed her hands on the glass, jolting them back open. “Look at me! You keep moving, Remington Aliana Silversmith. You don’t close your eyes. Understood?” she snapped, her eyes wild with worry.

  “Got it,” I stammered, and immediately started moving again.

  I followed her lead, dropping to the ground to do pushups, lunges, and then back up to do more jumping jacks. She kept her eyes bouncing between my armband that told her my temperature, and my eyes that grew heavy. My body fought the urge to go into shock at the extreme temperatures with the sluggish movements we made.

  “What is happening?” Rhys demanded.

  “It’s normal. At least when Remi makes swords,” Nyx snapped, dismissing him to focus on me. “She isn’t a bladesmith. She’s a damn silversmith. Swords are harder because they need more metal. High temperature is needed and frigid temperatures too. It just went from being 500 degrees in there to 100 below freezing.”

  “That’s impossible. She’s mortal.”

  “Have you never watched a Silversmith work before?” Nyx asked, and my eyes narrowed as ice dusted my lashes.

  “No one has,” he growled.

  My head turned, staring at the room packed full of men, all watching me do jumping jacks. I scowled and would have rolled my eyes had they not been trying to freeze in the position they were currently in, forcing me to blink repeatedly. I paused, moving to the thermostat to bring it back up, then withdrew the blade from the fire to grind it down.

  My family was going to crucify me. No wonder they never let me outside. I hadn’t known that no one had never before watched a Silversmith forge a blade before, let alone how we created our pieces in extreme temperatures. Winchester was going to skewer me, and I was going to deserve it.

  I held the sword to the machine, watching as sparks flew from it before lowering it to eye-level. Turning off the grinder, I gazed at the sides, then running my hand over it, bringing up a bloodied palm. I held the blood over the blade, watching as it dripped on the design, turning the metal golden in color as my blood magic fueled the protection runes.

  I whispered the magic enhancement spell, lifting the sword to place into the cooling water, and then lifted it out to test the metal’s temperature, making sure it was safe to touch. I stepped on a button on the floor, as a wood statue emerged from the ground, covered in gouges where other blades had left marks, and I smirked.

  Holding Rhys’s stare, I lifted the blade as I spun, sending the sword in a spinning move before releasing one hand and slammed the blade through the wooden frame. I never broke Rhys’s gaze as the statue severed into two pieces, proving that I was worth my weight in gold—or silver. The door buzzed open, and I walked out of the room covered in sweat, still holding the blade in my hands.

  “For you, Rhys Van Helsing,” I stated over the excited chatter in the room. My words stopped all talk. Rhys narrowed his eyes on mine, lowering them to the artwork of the blade.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “It was made for you. I’m pretty sure no one else will want it with your name engraved on it.” I frowned, noticing the expressions on the men’s faces. It was just a damn sword. So why did they look worried?

  “Remington Silversmith, are you sure you want to give me your silver?” Rhys repeated carefully, holding his hands out.

  “If you don’t want it, brother, I’ll take it,” Cole chuckled, but his eyes held wonder as he looked between Rhys and me, and then turned to Acyn, who looked frozen in place.

  “I made it for you, Rhys. Why is everyone acting weird?” I asked. I stepped back from him, but he grabbed the blade before I could step back any further or change my mind.

  “I accept, Remington Silversmith. I accept your silver and your blade.”

  “This is weird, even by my standards,” Nyx stated awkwardly.

  “I may need that sword back,” I frowned, watching his eyes smiling like a cat who just tasted cream for the first time.

  “Once a Silversmith offers a Van Helsing her silver, it’s unbreakable,” Rhys said, holding the blade so his brothers could take in the details.

  He didn’t seem impressed by the sword and had barely looked at the fine details. Instead, he watched me like he’d captured me or just found something so unique that he wasn’t sure how to handle it at all.

  “Why do I feel like I just did something foolish?” I asked, swaying on my feet as Nyx steadied me with her hand.

  Rhys smiled and turned to see his brothers and his men salivating over the sword I’d made. They pointed to the dragons and their family crest before noting the runes etched within the dragon’s scales.

  It was the finest weapon I’d ever crafted, and I had taken some precautions. You know, because I wasn’t a total idiot. Rhys couldn’t use the blade to draw Silversmith blood or it would shatter.

  Nyx caught me as I swayed on my feet. Rhys sheathed the blade, stepping to me and lifting my sweat-covered body into his arms. The grin was still smugly on his face as he walked us out of the room and started up the winding staircase that led to a secret passageway into his bedroom.

  “My room is fine,” I grumbled.

  “That is the finest blade I have ever seen in my entire life, Remington. Thank you for the gift of your silver. You’ll stay in my room tonight, as Cole is staying as well. I’d rather you be near me when he is in residence. I am uncertain of his newest plan to pay me back for the Silversmith he lost, and I’d rather he not use you against me, all things considered.”

  “All that animosity is over a Silversmith who played y
ou both?”

  “Roslyn was supposed to become my wife until I found out she had lured my mother to her father and betrayed me.”

  “Ouch.” Rhys laid me down the softest mattress I’d ever been on in my life. I sank into it as it formed around me, cradling me. “Our families really went at one another, didn’t they?”

  “They did, but none of yours had ever offered their silver to us, until you, Remi.”

  “Shit, I did do something dumb.”

  He smirked as he stripped and undressed, staring into my eyes. “That depends on how you look at it.”

  “I can’t look at it, Rhys. I have no idea what the hell it even means.”

  “You offered me a part of your soul, Remington. Our curse is a blood bond created by powerful magic. You and I are already bonded by that, since we sort of shared body fluids.” I grimaced, and he chuckled at my response. “Now, the deepest bond a Silversmith and a Van Helsing can ever share is when he vows to protect her against her enemies, and she gives him her silver. I vow to protect you against your enemies, for they are now mine. You are a part of me, and I am now a part of you, Remington Silversmith. From this day forward, you are my silver, and I am your strength and protection.”

  “What did you do?” I gasped, fighting to sit up past the spinning in my head as light blinded me. He held my hand, smiling wickedly while watching my panic unfold.

  Pain filled my chest, as if something within me clicked, and settled into place. I shook my head, anxiety rushing through me, while blinding pain throbbed in my head. Rhys gritted his teeth, holding his chest as if he felt the same pain. Still holding my hand, Rhys lowered his mouth, claiming my lips in a pain-filled kiss that sent lightning rods rushing through me as tears slipped from my eyes.

  “It hurts, Rhys. Stop it!” I pleaded, but he couldn’t, and I knew it without him having to tell me. I heard his teeth gritting together, grinding over enamel as he groaned against my mouth.

  “Remi,” he whispered, lifting his eyes to study the tears swimming in mine. “Breathe, beautiful girl. Stop fighting me. Just let it happen.”

  “It hurts!” I screamed, feeling like my insides were filling with lava instead of the blood that had once run through my veins.

  “That’s because you’re fighting the part of me that is combining with you.”

  “What the hell? Why would you do this?” I whispered thickly, swallowing past the pain.

  “I did it so that you can never harm me with your silver, and in return, I can never raise arms against you. I outplayed you, and your mother. The glyphs that glowed on your pretty face inside your home? They’re the sign of a newly born alpha to the House of Silversmith. I wasn’t certain at first, since it’s been hundreds of years since anyone has seen the glyphs of a newborn alpha heir. You are the strongest Silversmith I have encountered, which means your mother strategically chose your father to breed a new alpha.”

  “I’m more of an omega.” I shivered as his eyes dipped to my mouth, slowly lifting to hold mine before he continued speaking, ignoring my outburst.

  “The Silversmiths have always had a female alpha. Your house will not rise again, because you’re now my silver, and I will never allow it.”

  So that happened.

  I was going to end up helping my sister crucify me at this rate. I should have known there was a reason he wanted a sword. Why would my family ever think waiting to tell me this shit was a good idea?

  He’d just outsmarted me, and I thought I was the one being smart! My mother hadn’t taught me anything. And our lore? It wasn’t in books. The stories were rumors, because we had people who went around erasing any trace that we’d ever existed from records. There was no correct history about us in the libraries, only fictional shit that people romanticized. So how was I supposed to know what not to do, or to do, if no one told me?

  “Rhys, I think we should break up. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m a dumb ass. I am so stupid! They’re going to hang me up, and I am going to hand them the bat to use me as a human piñata!”

  “First, they’d have to get to you. Second, you’re mine to protect now, so that scenario isn’t happening. Get some sleep. Beltane comes this week, and I can’t have my silver worn out before the witches’ celebration. I am throwing a ball that is open to every Alpha House and their family members. I can’t wait to show you off.”

  “I’m going to be sick that day, sorry.”

  “Go to sleep, woman. You worked for fourteen hours straight on a blade today. You were sexy in that room, dripping sweat as you held burning metal in your pretty, bare hands. How did you hold the metal straight from the fire? Better question, Silversmith, how did you live through being in a room that was 590 degrees as a mortal?” I swallowed as his eyes narrowed on the pulse beating wildly on my neck. “That’s what I thought. They didn’t die in that fire, did they? It’s why they never allowed anyone to see them work. It wasn’t to keep the magic a secret. It was to keep other aspects of their nature a secret.”

  Yup, I was a dead woman walking. I hadn’t even considered that when I’d felt the urge to make his blade. I’d wanted to impress Rhys, and by doing so, I’d exposed my family’s secrets. I’d watched that fire burning, and while the children had more than likely perished, their parents had snuck out through the secret panel in the library and lived, and I’d known it. That hadn’t clicked, though, not until just now as he’d asked the questions on the edge of my brain, the ones I’d shoved into a box to look at later, once I was free.

  I hated ah-ha moments, but worse; I now understood why no one had ever told me the important things. I was an open book, a source of information without even realizing I was spewing it until I’d fucked up so badly that I couldn’t take it back.

  “Don’t beat yourself up too bad, Remi. I’ve had a couple of lifetimes to learn how to get the things I want without torturing my prey. You’re young. Give it time, and you’ll learn how to keep those secrets better.”

  14

  The next morning, women came to my room to take measurements, fitting me for a dress. This situation was made more uncomfortable by Rhys sitting in the room, pretending to work while the women measured me in my panties and tank top. I’d bathed for over an hour to alleviate the aches and pains from standing in front of the forge the day before. I hadn’t even realized I’d been in that room for fourteen hours straight until Rhys had told me.

  The forge was my safe haven. The place I escaped to when things weighed down on me. I wasn’t shocked to learn I’d been within it for hours without realizing exactly how long. I was surprised to hear people speaking about the sword I’d given to Rhys today. They acted like I’d gotten down on one knee and proposed. Which, I guessed, was what I had involuntarily done in the way our world worked? It was insane archaic type of shit, for sure.

  “Stand up straight, ma’am,” someone whispered. I bristled, standing up to square my shoulders while Rhys’s eyes lifted from the laptop in front of him, locking with mine.

  His mouth tipped up at the corners, watching me fidget beneath his intense stare. I felt like I was on display. Lifting my arms, multiple sets of hands measured every inch of me. I wanted to hide from them, sneak back into the forge, and create more weapons, but mostly to use on the obtuse jerk who had outwitted me.

  I was so out of my league here. I wasn’t sure why my mother had ever thought it wise to wait to educate me about our enemies. Had I known anything about the Van Helsings, I may have armed myself better to deal with Rhys. Instead, I was in his mansion, being fitted for a dress for Beltane.

  “Finish. Remi needs to eat,” Rhys said, lowering his stare back to his laptop as he began typing quickly. The sound of the keys was almost soothing compared to the silence of the room when he stopped. “Have the ingredients for her bath ordered as well. Roses and daisies are preferred. See that she has them available to her. I want her dress to be silver, but to keep to tradition, have ribbons that match her pretty eyes added to the corset, along with the necklace
I had made for her. I also want what lies beneath her dress to match as well. Make sure there is a pouch sewn into her dress. It needs to contain rosebuds, primrose, mint, and the rowan tree’s bark within the pouch. Come, Remington. Let’s get you something to eat and drink before we head to the sanctuary to meet with the other alphas who wish to verify your existence.”

  “I don’t wish to be displayed like something you own. You don’t own me, Rhys,” I stated, crossing my arms to glare at him while he slowly moved toward me.

  “Everyone out,” he ordered.

  I watched the women scuttling out of the room. I swallowed as Rhys settled in front of me, smiling with heat pooling in his eyes. Before I could guess his move, he reached up and ripped the shirt from my body. Stepping back, he watched as I lifted my hands to cover my breasts. My breathing grew labored beneath the smoldering intensity of his stare.

  “You’re beautiful, woman.”

  “You needed to rip my shirt off to say that?” I asked, lifting a brow.

  He vanished from sight, and I stood there silently, looking around the room. I started to move away from the spot I was in, but hands grabbed me from behind. One snaked up around my throat, while the other settled on my belly, slowly moving down to push beneath my panties. I whimpered as his fingertips pushed through my sex, feeling the pull of his magic as he walked me toward the couch he’d been sitting on.

  Rhys pushed me down, staring at my body, lowering himself between my thighs. I started to sit up, but he grabbed my legs beneath my knees, pushing them up until my back was leaned into the couch. Rhys lowered his mouth, slowly dragging his heated breath over the inside of my thighs. He smiled at the moan that escaped my lips, watching my chest rise and fall with the storm he created.

  “I want to spread you apart and devour your pretty pussy. Do you want me to do that? You let my demon savor you, and I only got to lick your sweet taste from my lips, little one. Can I make you come for me, Remi? Can I drink you, and hear your sweet noises?” he asked in a hoarse voice that ran up my spine, creating heat that pulsed in my core dangerously.