Blood Before Sunrise

by amanda bonilla

  I reached out, drawn to the emerald’s call. So far lost to Fallon’s control, I hadn’t even considered using the pendulum as a means to escape. And if I had, would I have even known how to use the damned thing? My trips into the Faerie Realm had been accidental at best. My fingers brushed the silver chain, and time seemed to suspend itself….

  A pounding on the other side of the cheap metal door rattled the hinges that threatened to break from the pressure. “Darian!” A familiar voice called out. “Darian, are you in there?”

  Raif.

  Jesus Christ, my heart pounded at the sound of his voice, drawing my attention from the pendulum. Fallon seized the emerald from my hand, stuffing it in his pocket before drawing his dagger, which he held tight to my throat. “Not a word.”

  Raif! I screamed in my head, desperate for him to break down the door. Get me the fuck out of here!

  My captor pulled me against his chest, one arm squeezing the air from my lungs, the other wrapped tight around my neck. All it would take was a long, loud sigh and I’d be as good as dead. Fallon wasn’t the kind of person to waste his time on idle threats. Another round of thunderous pounding followed Raif’s shouts, and the door creaked in its frame. Fallon’s wards held, though, and Raif might as well have been trying to kick through a solid stone wall.

  Despair stabbed at my ragged emotions, sharper than the blade Fallon held to my skin. And even if I’d had the balls to call out to Raif, a nagging thought stole the fight right out of me: Why bother? You’re as good as dead. Don’t bring him down with you.

  As if he’d heard me, Raif’s struggles with the door stilled and a dead silence settled. Oh God. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered. What would happen to me if my only hope of escape had actually thrown in the towel?

  The air around me became dense, permeated with a sweet aroma that banished the stench of Delilah’s death from my nostrils. I stared at the door, my breath stalling in my lungs, and watched as dark threads of glistening shadow snaked their way through the tight cracks between the door and the jamb. The Soul Shadows twined back and forth, in and out, weaving around the doorknob, the hinges, the door itself, before crushing the barrier upon itself like a rag being wrung dry.

  Raif stood on the other side of the threshold, sword in hand, a warrior’s fierce battle lust shining in his deep blue eyes. He stormed through the entry, Fallon’s wards broken by Shaede magic, poised and ready for a fight. Unfortunately for both of us, I stood between him and my captor’s death, a shield well used, my body tight against his.

  “I thought you and the Jinn would have killed each other by now,” Fallon said. “I suppose if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself.”

  Raif didn’t grace him with an answer. Instead, his discerning gaze raked me from head to toe, no doubt taking stock of my bloodied face, evidence of every bruise, cut, or scrape Fallon had just given me. I wanted to shrink away from his appraisal, my shame at allowing myself to be victimized all the worse from having him bear witness to it. I healed fast, but I couldn’t do anything about my disheveled appearance or the blood that remained.

  “Darian,” Raif said, calm as a still pond, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to fight me for the right to kill this piece of shit.” Did he know me, or what? “Because I swear to you now, he’s going to fall beneath my sword.”

  God, I hoped so. I could live with knowing it wouldn’t be me ripping his soul from his body as long as the bastard was dead. Fallon pulled me back until the bed stayed his progress. Then he hitched the dagger high beneath my chin. “Stay right here.” His too-warm breath sickened me as he whispered in my ear. “Don’t move a muscle.”

  Arms limp at my sides, I waited in mute silence, literally unable to move. Raif stood at the ready, looking damned near itchy to launch himself onto Fallon and be done with it. But my kidnapper had something Raif didn’t: a determination born of madness matched with fanatical purpose. He didn’t waste time posturing for a fight. Nor did he use his voice to issue threats of violence. Oh, no. Fallon was a straight-up killer, and he launched himself at Raif without preamble.

  Arms flailed, legs kicked, and fists flew, the muffled sounds of the fight coming to my ears as if through a tunnel. I watched in mute horror, unable to aid my friend, utterly helpless. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my teeth gnashed to the point of shattering as I fought against Fallon’s influence—invisible shackles even the strongest will couldn’t break. The quarters were close, their bodies too mashed into the tight space of the room’s entrance to gauge who had the upper hand. Raif fought like a man possessed, hacking at Fallon with two hands gripping his sword. But Fallon was fast and deft. He matched Raif’s assault swing for swing, defending as though he knew what Raif had planned a second before he executed. Raif raised his sword high, and a shout of pain followed by a grunt drew my attention just in time to see Fallon pull his dagger from Raif’s stomach. The deep crimson of his blood was barely visible against the black blade until it dripped from the sharp point, landing on the dingy gray of the hotel carpet.

  “Nooooo!” My voice exploded out of me, breaking whatever magical barrier that kept it silent. I swooned from the effort it took to exert the one word, the sound dragging out to a keening cry as Raif’s hand fell limp and his head listed to the side.

  Fallon stood, his steel gray eyes flashing silver. He cocked his head toward the gaping doorway and then swung his attention back to me, urgency flashing across his cruel face for the briefest of moments. Blood streamed from Raif’s stomach; his breath seemed to still in his lungs. Dying? How? Not the quick-healing warrior I’d grown to love like a brother. I refused to believe what my eyes beheld. He couldn’t die. Please. God. No.

  My mind clouded with the force of Fallon’s influence. Against my will, I turned my eyes from Raif’s unmoving form and watched instead as that sonofabitch took the emerald from his pocket and held it aloft. I plucked it from his waiting fingers, holding it before me just as he wanted me to. The room blurred in my peripheral vision, the emerald glowing bright as it became the focus of my entire existence. Seconds—time that never left me—slowed to a standstill, and I realized what Fallon wanted me to do. Only when the emerald consumed me so completely could I travel to O Anel. And he’d known it all along. No longer patient, through with playing games, he pulled me close—so close our bodies contoured to each other. His hand snaked around my neck, burying itself in the curls of my hair and winding the locks into his fist. With a cruel jerk, he forced me to look past the glowing emerald and into his cold silver eyes.

  “You should have left him out of our business, Darian. He’d still be alive. But won’t Delilah be pleased,” he mused. “She finally got her revenge.”

  “Fuck you!” I shrieked, desperate to dig my nails into his smirking face. “I am going to kill you, Fallon. Do you hear me? I’m going to kill you!”

  His face drew close to mine, and I felt my knees go weak. Again, my mind filled with a foggy haze, and I blinked to clear my vision. What had happened here? The door was gone off its hinges, and someone lay on the floor, blood pooling around his body and soaking into the carpet. Who was he?

  Fallon squeezed my cheeks in his hand so hard that tears sprang to my eyes. Somehow, I felt that I deserved his treatment and that I needed to be punished for something I’d done. “Since you’re a curious little chit, haven’t you wondered how I can manipulate you with such ease?”

  My mind cleared, no doubt because he willed it so, and the pain of the moment crashed over me again. Raif lay on the floor, bleeding to death, and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. Eyes narrowed in hatred, I was bound and determined to send Fallon to the hereafter once and for all. One wish was all I needed, and I could laugh while Tyler handed this bastard his ass. The words rose up, hovering on my lips before something gray and evil swirled in my head to swallow them up.

  “You’ve never asked how you came to this end. Why? Don’t you want to know when it really happened? When you were chosen
by Fate to serve this purpose?” He dropped his gaze to the emerald for the briefest moment before turning his attention back to me. “You weren’t the first Guardian to give a blood sacrifice to the Enphigmalé. Your predecessor died during the last ritual.” The words sounded as if they’d been wrenched from his chest and ended in a vicious snarl. “And the one before him, and the one before her as well.

  “Guardians are chosen for their character, their desire to protect, and strength of will. When a Guardian dies, the next in line is called to serve. Transformation is inevitable. As you moved higher in the ranks of the chosen, Fate prepared you. You became a Shaede because a shadow had been cast on your soul in your human life. And when you found love”—a look of jealousy crossed his face—“you took the light of the sun into your heart, making you even more powerful. The Oracle was my key to freedom. She collected the Guardians and performed the blood rituals. None of the others were strong enough to release us. You were hidden until you grew into the protector you were meant to be. But you didn’t hide well enough. Maybe if that Shaede King hadn’t paraded you around like some sort of concubine, you’d still be safe. No one can interfere now.” The wild tone of fanaticism crept back into his voice. “And you’re nowhere near strong enough to stop me.”

  I couldn’t look away, no matter how the emerald screamed for my attention. It glowed so bright, casting a green shadow on Fallon’s face as if pleading for me to fight. Helpless, I stared into his eyes, the silver swirls consuming his irises, no longer gray but shining silver orbs. Something reflected in their depths—a great beast—a gargoyle running through the woods in escape. A voice from my dreams haunted me, the familiarity now clear. “I’ve had your blood,” the Enphigmalé said. “And you will obey me.”

  My heart pounded, threatening to break right out of my goddamned rib cage. It was impossible. He couldn’t be. But how could I deny what Fallon had all but admitted. “What are you?” I whispered, desperate for his words to prove me wrong.

  “I am Faolán, the Wolf of Badb, and one of the nine. The first Guardian. Banished. Cursed. Forgotten. And you”—he licked his lips, hungrily—“belong to me.”

  Chapter 23

  I stared at him in stunned silence. Never in my wildest imaginings would I have guessed that the lunatic holding me prisoner by force of will had been the Enphigmalé I’d failed to kill on the island those many months ago. Isn’t it great the way life can pull the rug right out from under you every now and then?

  Delilah tried to tell me in her strange, circular way. But I hadn’t listened. Just like everything in my life, I turned a blind eye and a deaf ear while being beaten over the head with the truth. Even Reaver, though he’d let me steal the hourglass while he watched, had tried to warn me. And Moira, I now realized, had every right to kill me, and probably should have.

  “Darian,” Faolán whispered in my ear. I almost laughed. His true name suited him much better. Somehow the long “a” sounded more sinister. The gentle tone of his voice sent chills across my skin, and I shuddered. “Take me to O Anel.”

  I couldn’t resist the command. Through my blood, he controlled me, and it must have been an ancient, potent form of magic. It prevented me from resisting the compulsion to do exactly what he wanted me to do. Fight him, damn it! If I could just break free, get some distance between us, maybe I could form a coherent thought. But he had a death grip on my hair, and when I tried to shake free of him, he held me tighter, crushing me in his embrace. My thoughts clouded, the haze sticky and thick like being bound with cotton candy, and as if I’d planned it all along, I gazed into the emerald with no other thought than going back to that grass-covered knoll.

  “I’ll take you,” I said, my voice sounding thick with sleep, “but you’re going to die, Faolán. Believe it.”

  The emerald called to me, with endless green and beautiful light. The calm spread through me, warm and pleasant like soaking in a hot tub filled to overflowing. Time—the ceaseless cadence that plagued me—slowed again to near silence, and my body went limp in Faolán’s arms. Infinity beckoned, and I gave myself over to the euphoric calm. Don’t you die, Raif. I found your daughter, and damn it, I’m bringing her back to you. I resisted Faolán’s influence, holding on to every last coherent thought. My heart sank as the emerald called to me and the haze of confusion pushed farther into my mind. I fought for one last oath, and I was sure as hell going to follow through on it. Tyler, wait for me, I thought. I promise I’m coming back to you.

  I closed my eyes as tight as I could, and in turn, Faolán pulled me even closer. I’m going to kill you. I repeated the thought over and over, drilling it into my mind. No matter what, I had to make sure he didn’t get his hands on Raif’s daughter—not while the responsibility to protect her rested on my shoulders.

  A pulse rocked me backward, and Faolán’s body relaxed, his grip no longer squeezing the air from me. As if a breeze had cleansed the fog from my mind, coherent thought returned; only then did I open my eyes, though I dreaded to do so. A blanket of green surrounded us as far as I could see. There was no sign of Brakae. At least something had gone right for me in this never-ending string of bullshit. My Enphigmalé companion dropped to his knees and wept, kissing the ground and running his fingers through the grass. I expected him to shuck his clothes and roll around naked for all of his weepy dramatics.

  From the moment I’d opened my eyes, I began to count the minutes. Each one that passed helped to guarantee I’d return home to a lonely, changed Seattle—one without Tyler. My accuracy wasn’t great—the sound of time had gone silent in this place—but I had to at least try. I looked out across the vast fields of green, turning full circle before letting my attention fall to Faolán, still acting the fool as he smelled the grass.

  “I’m home, Darian,” he said, wonderment coloring his voice. “It looks just the same as when I left.”

  “Good for you,” I said. Lucky Faolán. He didn’t have to hide his emotions. Crazy bastard just let it all out like he were a guest on a Barbara Walters special. But not me. I took every emotion swirling within me and bottled each one up, storing them all in the deepest, darkest recess of my soul. If I allowed myself to feel the despair, the pain, the loss—I’d crack. And I was already running at half capacity. Faolán had made sure of that. I needed every ounce of apathy I could muster.

  While I waited for Faolán to pull himself together, I took stock of the situation. Preoccupied, I realized he didn’t exercise quite as much control over me. His concentration must’ve been the key to absolute control, and that had definite benefits for me in this place. I stretched my neck from side to side, releasing only a fraction of the tension I felt. No weapon. Not even a goddamned throwing knife. If anything had happened to my katana…well, let’s just say I’d kill him twice.

  Faolán’s black dagger—the one he’d killed Delilah with and later used on Raif—hung at his side. The only justice worthy of what he’d done would be to kill him with his own weapon. I could take his knife, but that would require close combat and concentration. With his full focus on me, I doubted I could overpower him. Some Guardian I’d turned out to be—captured, manipulated, without even a stick to hit the enemy with. Lovely.

  Finally, Faolán’s homecoming celebration ended. Silver chased across his eyes as he dusted himself off and came to stand beside me. His influence pulled at my mind, clouding my thoughts just enough to confuse me. But I held on by the barest of threads. Kill him. Protect Brakae. Get home. No matter what. From my backpack, Faolán produced the broken half of the hourglass. The sands no longer passed in a peaceful track up and down, up and down. Now they swirled about the glass in a torrent before traveling up into nothing and back.

  “We’re so close,” he said. “I can feel it. The last time I saw this place, I was beaten, chained. About to face exile and eternal imprisonment. But then she helped her,” he said to me in disbelief. “My Time Keeper helped Moira and her army to capture me and my brethren. She betrayed me, Darian, and she has t
o pay. Since she’s now yours to protect, you’re going to deliver her to me. Come, let’s find her, shall we?”

  “How do you think we’re going to manage that?” I asked. I mean, seriously, did he not notice we stood in an ocean of green grass? There wasn’t another soul for miles. “It’s not like I can pull her out of my ass.”

  “You have a foul mouth,” Faolán snapped, grabbing me by the arm. His fingers bit into the skin, bruising. If I had to rip him apart with my bare hands, I would. “You have yet to see the true Faerie Ring, Darian. I’ll find her without your meager assistance.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said with a sneer. “What are you going to do—go gargoyle on me and sniff her out?”

  Faolán shuddered at my words, his steps faltering. “I was trapped in that form for centuries,” he said, none too graciously jerking my arm. “Don’t think for a moment that I’m anxious to return to it anytime soon. Besides,” he continued, his cruel gaze locked with mine, “I don’t need to assume the form of a beast to be deadly.”

  He pulled me along, and I jerked my arm free of his grasp. But he let me. I knew if he’d really wanted to hold me, he would have. We walked for somewhere close to fifteen minutes, and every step made my stomach sour. Minutes equaled days, and in this place time stretched out in an unfathomable distance. Every step took me farther away from Tyler. Five minutes here was two days in the real world. It had already been almost a week since we’d left the hotel room, and I had just gotten here. Despair constricted my lungs as I thought of Raif, lying on the floor as he bled out. I couldn’t save him. I’d stood by and watched as Faolán ran his dagger through Raif’s stomach. But I had to hope that he’d lived, despite his injuries. For the moment, hope was all I had.