Blood Before Sunrise

by amanda bonilla

  I hadn’t paid much attention to the scenery as we traveled. Why? Everywhere I looked was blanketed with green; it wasn’t like I’d miss anything. But as I looked up and really took stock of our surroundings, I noticed the landscape had changed dramatically in the short time we’d been moving. “You could see for miles in all directions from that knoll,” I said. “I didn’t see a single tree. Where did they come from?” A thick forest had sprung out of nowhere. Lush ferns, bushes of deep green and light with bright-colored berries, and trees of every species imaginable—and some I doubted existed in my world—dotted the landscape.

  “I told you,” Faolán said. I was getting sick of his disdainful tone. “O Anel is special. It isn’t like the human realm we’ve been imprisoned in. Nothing here is as it seems.”

  Sunlight streamed through the many branches forming a canopy above us. The eerie yet ethereal light captivated me, swelling my chest with warm emotion. Beautiful. Faolán was right; I’d never seen anything so awe inspiring in all of my existence.

  Up ahead, the trees began to clear. I squinted through the muted light, trying to make out the shapes looming in the distance. They looked oddly familiar, but I doubted my own eyes. How could it be? Faolán moved with silent grace beside me, barely rustling a blade of grass as he walked. My bones hummed with the power he exuded, growing stronger the closer we came to the hulking shapes. Something of great importance and even greater power lay ahead of us, and my stomach clenched in fear of what I’d see.

  “I haven’t been here for centuries,” Faolán mused, “but even still, its power calls to me.”

  The circle of stones stood tall and proud, nothing like it did in the human world. But there was no mistaking the pattern: the larger circle and the smaller one inside of it, the rough, natural placement of the stones, and the archways they constructed. And though I’d never seen it in person, and though this circle was complete and not damaged by time and man’s interference, there was no doubt of what I was looking at.

  “Stonehenge,” I murmured.

  Faolán laughed. “In the beginning, before the hourglass was split, it was called Kotja A’ma. Font of Time.”

  If I’d thought Faolán’s power overwhelming, it was a drop in the bucket to what I felt coming from the ring of stones. I had no doubt O Anel’s name had sprung from this place. I was staring at the true Faerie Ring, the heart of this realm and probably the twin to the heart of the mundane world. I stood in awe of the structure. A divinity resided here, a connection to something bigger than me—or anything I knew, for that matter. It stole the breath from my lungs to look at it, and I averted my gaze, so overcome by its power.

  “Now you see,” Faolán whispered, “why I would do anything to return to this place.”

  I could. In fact, I’d lost track of the minutes as we stood here. Panic set in as I tried to calculate how much time we’d spent behind the veil. Thirty minutes? An hour? Oh God, how I could I have been so careless? Months could have already passed in the human world. I turned in a circle and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots. I was poised for a full-on anxiety attack.

  “Darian, stop your fidgeting and come here.” Faolán’s voice bounced around inside my brain, bringing with it a foggy confusion. What had I been upset about?

  I walked to his side like any obedient pet, and he pulled me close, as though we were simply two friends looking at a blazing sunset or silvery moon. His silence pressed upon me, coupled with the control he exuded with no effort whatsoever. Idly, he traced a pattern on my wrist with his thumb. “There is something special about you. The other Guardians were weak. They died after I’d taken their blood. A powerful Guardian used her blood to imprison me. It took the blood from an equally powerful Guardian to release me. None of the three who came before you could withstand the connection. And their power wasn’t enough to release me from stone. None of them loved deeply enough. But you…,” he said, trailing off with a sigh. “You are different. Your strength astounds me. This was meant to be, and you have done well. Perhaps I won’t kill you after all. If you continue to prove your worth, I will give you a place of honor in the new world.”

  Through the haze, a small shred of my mind forced its way to the surface. It seemed easier to do here, in this place steeped in magic. Strong? I felt so weak. I let him control me. I didn’t have the will to fight him; yet he thought me strong. A force apart from Faolán supported me, holding me up under the pressure of his influence. I felt safe despite the danger. Brakae was close. Somehow I recognized her energy as a pure force of nature, like a breeze that blew the fog from my mind. Maybe with her help, we could undo this clusterfuck after all.

  I couldn’t let Faolán in on my clarity. So, like a good little zombie slave, I stood passively at his side, accepting his light touch as if I had no other choice. What I really wanted to do was break his arm in two.

  “What now?” I asked, ignoring his musings. “I brought you here, like you wanted me to do.”

  “Yes, you did.” He patted the top of my head, and I suppressed the urge to slap his hand away. “But this is only the beginning, Darian. There is much to be done.”

  “What?”

  His lips curved into a sardonic smile. “Why would I tell you?” he said. “No, I think I’d best keep that secret to myself for the time being. First, we have to find the Time Keeper. And after she surrenders her half of the hourglass, all will be set aright.”

  I could only guess what kind of shit storm would be caused by bringing the two halves together. “What makes you think she’ll do that?” I mean, give me a break. Faolán had to be pretty full of himself to think this would all tie together with a neat little bow.

  “I have no doubt she will.” His confidence sickened me. “She’s going to surrender the glass to you.”

  “Not likely.” But the cold feeling of dread sliding down my spine said otherwise. Reaver hadn’t tried to stop me. In fact, I probably could have marched right up to the front door and asked for it. But since I had not a goddamned clue why that was, I had to assume Faolán knew something I didn’t. I mean, didn’t everyone have one up on me in the knowledge department?

  Faolán turned me to face him so quickly and so roughly, it nearly gave me whiplash. He hit me across the face—with a closed fucking fist—a right hook that sent me headfirst to the ground. Christ, I was tired of getting smacked around. Blood trickled from my nose, mouth, and cheek, staining the grass that cushioned the unbattered side of my face.

  Before I could drag my sorry ass up to a sitting position, Faolán drew the dagger from his belt. The veins of green glowed bright against the black, and he pounced, pinning my legs beneath his and holding me down with his hand constricting my airway. He held the dagger high and looked around us, his eyes glowing deadly silver. “She is beloved by your father!” Faolán shouted to the sky. “Do you hear me, Brakae? Will you sit idly by and watch her die?”

  Fucker! Faolán was well versed in the ways of abusive control. Mental, emotional, physical—oh yeah, he had it covered, the triple play of abuse. My entire face throbbed, and my blood continued to flow, which shouldn’t have happened. I usually healed fast, almost instantaneously. And I hurt like hell. Unconsciousness threatened, the pain sending me into a state of near shock. I hadn’t felt this degree of prolonged agony since—well—since the beatings I’d endured from an abusive husband in my human life.

  Silence answered us. A dead silence made all the more dramatic for the promise inherent in Faolán’s words. He’d kill me and not even bat an eyelash. I’d brought him to Brakae, making me as good as expendable. “Perhaps she thinks I’m bluffing,” he said more to himself than to me. “I’m sorry, Darian, but I’m going to have to prove to the Time Keeper just how dire your situation is.”

  Sure, he warned me, but that didn’t mean I was close to prepared when he brought his arm down in one forceful, sweeping motion. He drew the dagger across my skin from my collarbone to my sternum, opening a deep gash in my flesh. S
creams pierced the still air. Shut the fuck up! I thought, until I realized I was the one screaming. Liquid fire seared from the wound, spreading through my body like poison.

  His laughter fueled my rage, and I snarled like a wounded animal, working my broken jaw, despite the hurt it caused me, to toss out a string of curses. Holy shit, I was in some serious pain. My body could start with the healing…anytime now…. Come on, damn it. Heal. “Faolán!” I shrieked. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die!”

  “Quiet.” The command stalled my mind, numbed my pain, and stilled my body. Our surroundings blurred in my vision, leaving only the two of us alone in a sea of gray nothing. Faolán towered above me, looking too far away to be so close. “I’m going to kill her!” he shouted again. “Just like the others! Do you think your father will weep for her? Will he relive the pain of losing his child? Would you be the one to deliver that agony upon him for the second time? I. Will. Kill. Her!” His words rent the still air, ragged and strained with his rage. He looked down, his eyebrow cocked, and he whispered the last words for me alone. “Believe it.”

  Something in the distance stole his focus from the business of sending me to my death. Lucidity returned, and with it an excruciating pain that made me want to retreat back into my mind, anywhere but the present moment. My breath came in shallow pants—all I could manage with Faolán’s hand squeezing my throat. Above me the dagger hovered in his fist, dripping my own blood onto my body. He leaned back, his grip slackened, and I resisted the urge to turn my head and look. But when I noticed the half-crazed expression creep onto his face, my heart sank into my stomach. Stupid girl. She’d done just what I would’ve done in her situation.

  Brakae had surrendered.

  Chapter 24

  Faolán eased himself up from the ground, dismissing me like an insect beneath his boot. I could have just closed my eyes and drifted away right there in the fragrant grass for all the attention he paid. He stumbled backward, his eyes glued to the figure standing barely beyond my line of sight. Hate, jealousy, and—could it be?—love twisted his features into something even more otherworldly than he already was.

  The longer we’d been in this strange place, the more his Fae glamour slid away, as if he couldn’t spare the concentration to keep the guise intact. And I focused on those things: his face, the way his body trembled in Brakae’s presence, the slight shifting of his eyes, how they’d become rounder and brighter. Because if I didn’t, I’d succumb to my fear and pain, and I’d be damned if Faolán saw me weakened by anything he’d done.

  Grass rustled in the distance, and with it came a stirring breeze and the fragrant scent of Shaede, though there was something foreign about it that my senses could not identify. I closed my eyes, the hairs standing on my arms as I felt her presence beside me. She knelt and gathered my head in her hands, cradling it on her lap. Don’t open your eyes, I thought as she combed her fingers through my hair, sweeping it away from my temple. Just lie here and sleep.

  “Faolán, my love.” Brakae’s words jump-started my heart as if I’d been struck by lightning. “What have you done?”

  I’d heard her wrong. Of course, she’d said, “Faolán, you low-life piece of shit, what have you done?”

  But, no, just like all of the lovely surprises in my life, I’d heard her plain as day. “My hand has been forced.” The longing in his voice was unmistakable. “You helped them imprison me. And why? For the pestilence known as humanity? I loved you. I love you still; yet you would rather see me dead than a race so disgustingly fragile their lives are nothing more than a flash of lightning against a black sky.”

  Here I was, sliced open and bleeding to death in a realm where time flew by at a blurring pace, with Brakae and Faolán positioned on either side of my battered body having a bittersweet lovers’ reunion. Wasn’t this just fan-fucking-tastic? Brakae continued to stroke my hair—did the whole of the supernatural community have an affinity for petting?—as Faolán paced back and forth, as agitated as I’d ever seen him.

  “This is an old argument,” Brakae said. “Too old for us to revisit. Life, all life, is precious, and there is not one of us who deserves a higher place above another. I will not reopen healed wounds by entertaining your madness again.”

  Hello? Anyone remember the bleeding girl here? And why the hell was I still not healing? God, I wanted to pass out from the pain. Yet the little Days of Our Lives moment unfolding at my head and feet kept me nice and conscious. “I hate to interrupt,” I said, struggling to lean up at least on one elbow. “But, Brakae, this should be the part where you stand up and run the fuck away!”

  “Shhh.” She cupped the side of my face Faolán hadn’t managed to break. “Don’t worry. I trust you.”

  You trust me? What the hell kind of thing was that to say at a moment like this? Good Lord, I was beginning to wish Faolán would hurry up and kill me, just to give me a reprieve from all of their cryptic talk and strange behavior.

  “Get up,” Faolán commanded, and I felt my world go fuzzy and gray. “I don’t have time for idle discussions. Brakae, take us to the glass.”

  I looked up at Raif’s daughter, the deadly smile on her face an exact replica of his. How had I not recognized it the moment I’d met her? A light of calculation gleamed in her sapphire eyes. Maybe she wasn’t as harmless as I’d thought. “Yes,” she said as she placed her hands under my arms, easing me to a sitting position. “It’s time to go.”

  “Why is my body not healing?” I asked close to her ear. Confusion swirled in my mind from Faolán’s influence, countered by the cleansing effects of Brakae’s close proximity. A war was being waged within my mind, and I didn’t like it one damned bit. “I’m not going to be much use to you beat up and bleeding. Not to mention weaponless.”

  “A Fae dagger,” Brakae murmured. “It has been forged with magic,” she said. “You’ll heal, but not quickly. If he’d wanted you dead, he would have driven the blade through your heart.”

  Son of a bitch. For once Azriel hadn’t been a complete liar. He’d told me once only a magic blade could kill me. The asshole knew about the blade, and about what I would eventually become. Who would have thought his lies had been woven with the truth? “He’s controlling me,” I said. “I may not be able to fight him.”

  “Darian, you’re talking too much again.” Faolán pulled me away from Brakae, tucking me safely behind him. “Now be quiet and move along.”

  Brakae remained stoic but pleasant as she led us from the circle of stones down a winding path as if we had nothing better to do than take a leisurely stroll in an enchanted forest. Blood trickled down my chest, soaking my shirt. If I ever got out of this mess, I’d ceremoniously burn this particular outfit. I ignored the lush green forest, the brilliant blue sky peppered with dragonflies and other buzzing creatures too strange to be mere insects. I felt the presence of magic all around me and other creatures watching from their hiding places. But none of this mattered or held me rapt. My mind dwelled on one thing and one thing only: Tyler, and the fact that I would more than likely never see him again.

  “You’re not really thinking of handing your half of the hourglass over to Faolán, are you?” At least I could use impending death and disaster to get my mind off Tyler. “I mean, you do realize he’s not planning to bring peace to the world or anything like that.”

  “No,” Brakae said. “I plan on handing it over to you.”

  Was everyone out of their fucking minds? I was the last person on the face of the earth who should have that glass. “I don’t know how well you’ve thought this through, Brakae, but I would advise against that.”

  She looked back and flashed me a very Raif-like smile. “I trust you.”

  Fantastic.

  I worked my jaw back and forth, thankful it had finally begun to heal. The swelling in my eye had gone down, and I traced the cut on my cheek, now scabbed over. It wasn’t my usual speedy recovery, though it was better than human. My chest still felt like I’d been gored with a red-hot
poker, but the blood no longer flowed. A gentle twist of my shoulders sent a violent spasm of pain clear through to my spine. Bleeding or not, I was still pretty worked over.

  “Darian, my father?” Through the strength, I could sense the sadness in her words. “Is he well?”

  How was I supposed to answer that? “I don’t know,” I said as I walked behind Faolán. The last time I saw my mentor, his daughter’s ex was driving a knife into his gut. Honestly, I didn’t think it would help our situation if I told her Raif might very well be dead. “But he’d better be all right.” I lowered my voice for Faolán alone and fixed him with an accusatory glare.

  I had to believe Raif had survived Faolán’s attack. He was one of the strongest people I knew. There was no way a stab to the stomach would kill him—even if it was with a Fae blade. My mentor was too damned tough for that.

  I wondered if she knew about all that had happened since her disappearance. Her mother had died trying to find her, for Christ’s sake. How could I possibly break the news that her mother had been dead for centuries? And that her father might have died because I’d dragged him into this mess. “Brakae—” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and started again. “You’ve been gone a long time.” Shit, this was hard. I didn’t often break bad news to people. “Your mother…”

  “Moira told me,” she answered before I could continue. “She brings me news of my loved ones. You can’t imagine how frustrating it is to be here, unable to communicate.”

  Moira. That devious bitch. “She’s known you were here—talks to you even—and she never told Raif you were alive?” Death was too good for her. When I got my hands on her, I’d make sure her torture was slow and painful.

  “It’s not like that,” Brakae said. “You shouldn’t think ill of her. It is not her place to speak for me. She’s not a Guardian of this realm, and the natural order must be protected at all cost.”

  Oh good. More cryptic explanations. Someone was going to give me a straight answer for once, damn it. “Oh yeah, well, what about—”