BloodMarked (The Fraktioneers Book 1)

by Lu J Whitley

  “Yeah,” Stein goaded, “And?”

  “We need intel, and we’ve got a person on the inside.”

  Stein gave him a dubious look. “The girl?”

  “The girl’s name is Greta.”

  “Fine.” Stein shook out his meaty hands. “Greta. Whatever. Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, last time you were screaming like a mad man.”

  Jami dropped to his ass, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cave. He motioned for Stein to follow suit. “If I get too loud, just hit me or something.”

  “How ‘bout I hit you now and save myself the trouble?”

  “Ha ha,” Jami said, deadpan as he closed his eyes and sought out the beast in his head. The thing roused, but he felt no power flowing out from it. The customary surge of adrenaline in his veins was absent.

  Must feed, it whined, So hungry.

  “No,” Jami growled.

  “I didn’t fucking move,” Stein groused.

  “Not you.”

  Must feed, the beast repeated.

  This was getting him nowhere. Jami grunted in frustration and opened his eyes, looking directly at Stein. His crimson stare was reflected back at him in his friend’s wary glance. “I hate when you give me the crazy eyes.” Stein grimaced. “Nothing good ever comes from the crazy eyes.”

  “Roll up your sleeve.” He really didn’t have time for this shit.

  Stein leaned back, pulling his arms behind him. “Why?” The word stretched out into at least five syllables.

  Jami let out a sigh and rested his head on his palms. “Because the thing needs to feed, and you’re all that’s available.”

  “Oh, hell no!” The troll lurched backward as if he’d been clocked in the jaw. “I am not your fucking blood buffet, Jaromir.”

  “Do you have a better idea? Because this is all I’ve got.”

  The troll huffed and, hesitantly, slid one arm out from behind him. The other one followed. “I hate you right now.” He began slowly rolling up the sleeve of his trench coat, exposing the thick, throbbing artery on the inside of his wrist.

  “I know,” Jami said, the words garbled by his quickly elongating canines.

  Stein set his forearm, palm up, in Jami’s outstretched hand. He was putting up a good front, but Jami could smell the sharp scent of his fear mingling with the dust in the air. “If you get a hard on from this, I swear I’ll rip your dick off and feed it to you.”

  Jami lifted Stein’s wrist within striking distance of his fangs. “Understood.”

  ★ ★ ★

  After the last guard had slipped through the door and locked it behind him, Greta let out the rough sob that had been lodged in her throat for the past hour. Ever since she’d seen her father standing in front of her. Alive. No matter how many times she ran it through her brain, she just couldn’t make it stick. He was alive. And he was an asshole.

  She stomped a foot and wrapped her arms around her ribs. Sure, it was a little childish to throw a temper tantrum, but Christ, didn’t she deserve to be a little childish? Her five-year old self had just gotten her biggest wish. But you always had to be careful what you wished for. You just might get it. And it just might suck.

  Now, she didn’t know what to do. The Takers had apparently been warned to watch out for the one-trick pony. The only way she knew to hurt or kill the bastards was to get them to choke down a mouthful of her blood. But these ones had been in full-on head-to-toe body armor, complete with hoods that covered everything but their insidious yellow eyes. No mouth = No kill. “Urgh,” she grunted. “C’mon Greta, think.” Her mind kept racing to the horrid images of a Taker army painting the ground red with the blood of their victims, and trying to think her way around the visions was easier said than done.

  Maybe if she had a few answers under her belt, the task wouldn’t be so daunting. She was their salvation? What the hell did that mean? Why did everyone have to be so fucking vague? For once, she’d just like someone to spell it out for her. Instead, she was left with more questions than answers… again. All she knew for sure was her blood could kill. She’d seen that. Well, not seen, but at least felt it. She shuddered. Eww. So, how was she supposed to save them? In the vision, she’d seen her blood running out to the Taker army, as if she was fueling them somehow. But, how?

  She wandered over to the bed and plopped her ass onto the fluffy down coverlet. What she wouldn’t give for someone to sit down with and talk it all out. Like she and her mother used to do whenever she had a problem that seemed to have no solution. Jesus, Mama. How could her mother have looked her in the eyes for all those years and not told her that her father was alive? Or that he was a raging lunatic? That probably would’ve been useful information to have.

  Questions. Questions. Questions. What she needed was a plan. She sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around long enough to figure out how they were going to try to use her blood against her. She liked her blood right where it was, thank you very much.

  Greta? She heard a nearly inaudible whisper and thought she’d imagined it until it sifted through her mind a second time, only slightly louder than the first.

  “Jami,” she whispered back, though she felt stupid the moment it left her lips. Who the hell else would it be?

  Are you okay?

  “No.” She let out a humorless laugh. She was so not okay. Her heart was beating a rapid tattoo at the sound of his voice and the aura of masculinity she felt filling her mind. She inwardly chided herself. She was mad at him, wasn’t she?

  Are you hurt, he said gruffly, sounding for all the world like he would tear anyone to shreds if they as much as looked at her sideways. But that thought didn’t make her heart beat faster or her chest ache from missing him, not the tiniest little bit… Because she was still angry, livid even.

  “No,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just scared and hungry… And really fucking tired of being lied to,” she added the last part a little pointedly, knowing he would get her meaning. If he knew where she was, she had no doubt he knew exactly why she’d been brought there as well.

  He grunted under his breath and followed it with a curt, We’ll discuss it later, shutting her down completely.

  “Always later with you.” Oh, no. She’d had enough vagueness and deflections for one evening. “Were you ever planning to tell me?”

  Greta, we don’t have much time…

  “Just a simple. Straight. Answer,” she gritted, “Yes or no?”

  Yes. The impatience in his tone was infuriating.

  “Why do I not believe you?” She huffed out a breath and flung herself backward, sinking into a cozy nest of down.

  Jami mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out, but before she could ask about it, he groused, Look. This isn’t a social call. I don’t have much time, and we need your help. So could you get over yourself and focus, please?

  Get over… Why that no good… Wait, “We?”

  Focus, he scolded, How many Takers are there?

  “Total?” She was confused by the sudden shift in topic, the flame of her rage guttering just a bit.

  In. The. Castle.

  Okay, she wasn’t a moron, but she still muttered, “I don’t know.”

  Guess. Two? Fifty? A thousand? Give me a rough estimate. She tried to think back to the circle of guards from the dining room, right after she’d blasted her father onto his skinny, pompous ass. There had to have been at least a dozen. Four more had been guarding the large entryway as they’d dragged her from the room. Greta?

  “Hold on, I’m thinking.”

  Think faster.

  “Urgh,” she huffed, but her mind kept racing. So that was sixteen, and there had to have been at least ten more between the dining room and the chamber she’d been unceremoniously returned to. “Thirty,” she blustered, when she could tell another command to hurry was on its way. “There has to be at least thirty from what I’ve seen.”

  Shit… Where?

  “In. The. Castle,” she parroted back to him,
taking a little too much enjoyment out of the small victory when she heard him emit a low growl.

  Greta, he warned. She rattled off all the guard posts she remembered, as well as the duo of Takers she assumed must be stationed outside her room… Cell… Whatever. She hadn’t seen any, but they wouldn’t leave her unguarded, right? The implications of that were too insulting to even think about. Fine, he said curtly. Stay put. We’ll be there within the hour. Be ready to run.

  “Wait, you’re already here?”

  He didn’t answer, and she couldn’t feel his presence anymore. The nerve! She wasn’t too familiar with how this whole telepathic thing worked, but she was pretty sure she’d just been hung up on. She got up and paced the length of the room, tearing at her layers of skirts when they got caught around her feet. “Stay put,” she grumbled, “As if I have a choice.” She gave up trying to renegotiate all the yards of fabric, unfastening the skirts one by one and pushing them all down around her feet. Leaving her in a dashing set of green velvet bloomers, Jami’s T-shirt, and a pair of shoes that was at least a size too big. She ditched the shoes. Even with the handkerchiefs she’d stuck in the toes, walking was slow going, and Jami had told her to be ready to run. Be ready to run. Humph. At least he didn’t plan to carry her out of here caveman style this time. She was perfectly capable of keeping up on her own, and she was so sick and tired of getting ordered around and moved about like a pawn.

  Yes, Jami was hot - like panties on fire hot. And he’d saved her ass on more than one occasion. Did that give him the right to tell her what to do all the goddamn time? Or withhold information whenever he saw fit? She didn’t think so. Then on the flip-side of that coin was her father, a term she used in the very loosest biological sense. As far as she was concerned, her real father had died in the raid on their home eighteen years ago. The uber-maniacal man who was keeping her captive wanted to use her to further his endgame just like Jami did. Only his endgame seemed to involve bleeding her dry to fuel an army of indestructible Takers. Didn’t that sound like a barrel of laughs? With Jami, she didn’t know what he wanted to use her for, other than sex - which he’d made abundantly clear. But at least he hadn’t trapped her in a castle tower like some fucking fairy tale damsel in distress waiting for her prince charming. That was a plus one in her book.

  Her racing mind came to a crashing halt when the heavy latch on her door lurched to the side, the sound of grating metal on metal making her hair stand on end. Her heart hopscotched up her throat almost vibrating her vocal cords into one hopeful word. Jami? But she tamped it down. If it wasn’t him, she didn’t want to alert any of the guards to his presence in the castle.

  The door opened a few inches and a bundle of rags was shoved between the door and jamb, the guard’s retreating hand, letting the bundle drop to the floor with a thud. Greta didn’t move until the door was locked again, and she heard the guard’s footsteps disappearing down the hall. The rag pile on the floor let out a muffled squeak of breath, and Greta jumped backward in alarm. It was alive, but not moving. What was it? With a few timid steps forward, she was in striking distance. The brooch pin was in her palm, though she didn’t remember grabbing it. Maybe it’d been there the whole time.

  The bundle groaned again, the feminine lilt of the sound bringing Greta to her knees. She pulled at the bloodstained rags. The pieces of cloth that were tangled with matted golden hair. “Mady,” she cried, “Oh Jesus, what did they do to you?” The little woman was naked from the waist up. Her simple shift had been shredded from her shoulders by rough hands. From bicep to wrist, she looked as if her skin had been flayed from her body, cut down to the bone in some places.

  “Jakob,” a shallow breath hissed through Mady’s split lips, dried blood flaking away at the movement.

  Her cherubic face was carved with runic symbols, and Greta felt a pit of guilt so deep in her stomach, she thought she might fall right into it and never climb out. She gingerly brushed back Mady’s golden curls from her forehead. So much blood, she thought. There’s no way she could survive this much blood loss. With as much care as she could, she gathered Mady’s tiny hand up in her own and squeezed it reassuringly. “Hold on Mady,” she whispered, a sob threatening to break free of her tenuous hold. “Help is coming.”

  ★Chapter 13

  Jami winced as the rusty iron hinges creaked loudly, echoing back through the cave. Gods, he might as well be setting off fireworks down here. He slipped silently through the opening, trying not to cause any more of a ruckus. The corridor seemed abandoned. Silent. No lights shone down this far, he noted with a hint of satisfaction. The Takers and their master apparently still didn’t know this part of the castle existed. Good. His eyes darted to the left and right anyway, making sure they didn’t have any company. None so far, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think would last for long. As soon as they were out of this disused segment, they would be in the castle proper, and they’d be in August Brandt’s domain. Jami knew it wouldn’t take much time at all for the wily bastard to sniff them out.

  Jami sighed, and for the first time, he was worried about having what was tantamount to an overgrown grizzly bear trailing behind him. As if on cue, Stein’s hulking form followed him through the door and closed it softly behind them. The troll looked a little green around the gills, and Jami felt a bubble of guilt forming in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t planned to drink from Stein’s thick wrist for so long, and he didn’t know why his friend hadn’t clocked him upside the head long before he’d forced himself to release his hold. The wary glances the troll kept flicking in his direction made Jami want to give the big man a hug, or a punch in the gut, or whatever friends did in this situation to make things right.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d fed from Stein. Though in all other cases, he’d been injured in a fight or had been just plain out of control. It hadn’t been a purposeful, premeditated thing like it’d been this time. He knew he’d pushed his friend a little too far, but he hoped it wasn’t a permanent loss. The troll was resilient. He’d have to wait and see. He sighed again - what was starting to become an unshakable habit. Right now, he had more pressing matters to focus on.

  Jami turned, facing Stein in the otherwise vacant hallway. His eyes easily made out the other man’s features in the blackness. “Ready,” he chuffed, hoping to get this done quickly. They’d discussed a plan on the flight here, sussing out the whens and wheres and whos. Stein hadn’t been a fan of the outcome, but Jami was counting on his ability to man-up and take one for the team.

  The troll nodded, a slight sneer breaking the set of his upper lip. “Yeah,” he grumbled, pulling his field knife from its sheath and twirling it between his fingers. “Just don’t like it.”

  “Tough shit.” Jami punched him softly in the chest when he dropped his whiskey-colored gaze to the floor. “I’m trusting you to get her out of here safely.” Stein would never know how much of a compliment that statement was, and Jami sure as hell wasn’t going to spell it out for him. He’d wanted to go after Greta himself. The need to wrap his arms around her and make sure she was all in one piece and breathing, it had him breaking out in a cold sweat. But he wasn’t an idiot. This was two against an army - even if it was a small army. Their best chance of coming out alive was if they split up. One went for the mark. The other drew fire. And the mortal one never drew fire. Ever. Even a kindergartener could figure the odds there.

  Jami pulled the tattered strap of his satchel over his head and laid it on the dusty stone floor. He’d momentarily considered taking it with him. The thing had become a kind of safety blanket over the years, but he knew it would only weigh him down. In the cave, he’d stuffed every available pocket on his body with mags of ammo for his sidearm. Normally, he preferred knife-work to the clunky butt of a gun in his palm, but this run called for loud and dirty. He wanted all eyes and, more importantly, all weapons trained on him so he could give Stein as much leeway as possible.

  He popped the snap on his shoulder holster and pulled
the cold piece of steel free, taking in a deep breath as he readied himself for what was coming. “Fylg.” His mother tongue dripped from his lips for the first time in at least a century, seeming so at home in this place. Stein nodded and took the command, immediately stepping behind Jami. The troll followed him down the corridor and up a set of rough stairs that rose from the floor at the other end, where the stairwell emptied out through a hidden door behind a tapestry.

  Jami caught Stein’s gaze just long enough to signal the troll with a two-fingered point toward the southern bend of the hallway. He nodded and turned away. Without looking back, Jami turned as well, wending his way northward, toward the dining hall.

  ★ ★ ★

  “Hold on,” Greta whispered as she checked Mady’s pulse for the hundredth time. “Help is coming.” It was as much a reassurance to herself as it was to the little woman lying across her legs. “Help is coming.”

  The seconds ticked into minutes as she watched the slow spread of Mady’s blood. The fluffy white towel she held against the woman’s chest was now stained a bright crimson. But still Mady clung to life as tightly as Greta clung to her.

  Greta cursed the useless thrum of power she felt coursing through her. Not for the first time, she turned her head to the star-shaped mark on her arm and said, “Light up, damn you!” But it didn’t obey. What was the word her father had used? It had to be the key. “Sher Ball?” She tried, unsuccessfully. There’d been an ‘n’ in there. “Shern Ball.” Nothing. “Sharnie Ball!”

  Mady’s eyelids fluttered as Greta shook her fists in frustration. With a few tempered breaths, she ramped it down a couple of notches so she wouldn’t jostle the little woman’s prone form. She let her head fall back as she slipped her eyes closed, searching her brain for the answer. It just had to be in there somewhere. The briefest hint of a whisper flitted through her mind. “Chernobyl,” she said dubiously. Really? Nothing happened. She shook her head from side to side, trying to throw off the outside world and concentrate on the voice. Inside the white palace of her mind, she found the words she needed. No trying this time. No racking her brain in an attempt to activate that source of power inside herself. Just like that, it welled up, pushing past her vibrating vocal cords. The three syllables slipped past her lips and hovered in the air like a tangible orb of light. Her left arm began to pulse and throb, a fire was taking root under her skin. She glanced down and saw a thin line of red shimmering from beneath the sleeve of her shirt. It worked! “Yessss,” she hissed, pumping her fist in the air and completely forgetting for a moment that she was still holding Mady in her lap.