Blood Before Sunrise

by amanda bonilla

  “I should have killed you sooner,” he seethed, heaving me off his body. “But not to worry, Darian, I’ll remedy that shortly.”

  The hell you will. Jesus, had it really come down to him and me in the end? Brakae was wounded, maybe even dying. And Moira, well, I’d fucked that up royally. Every other creature in this backward place had gone into hiding, it seemed, and so the fate of both worlds rested on a one-on-one fight to the death. Winner takes all. “I’m not so easy to kill, Faolán,” I said through the burning pain. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Spoken like a true Guardian,” he drawled before licking blood from his swollen lip.

  An invisible force of energy blanketed me, drawing me toward darkness. It wasn’t going to work. Faolán had controlled me for the last time, but the fact that he was trying gave me hope. Controlling me meant putting me at a disadvantage. If he needed me incapacitated, he obviously didn’t think he could take me without the upper hand. A grim smile curved my mouth. I had him.

  “Where’s my katana?” I asked, because, well, for one I was curious. And two, I knew it would throw his focus. I needed to buy myself a couple of minutes to allow my flesh to at least begin to heal. “I’m taking my ring back too.”

  Faolán’s brow rose in an elegant arch. “I think I’ll hand-deliver your head to your Jinn. Wrapped in a bright red bow. Knowing he couldn’t protect you will probably send him straight into madness.”

  My stomach curled in on itself. “Oh, he’ll get a gift all right.” Christ, this could go on forever. “But I think it’ll be your head, not mine.”

  Posturing is just part of battle. Elk paw at the earth and thrash their massive racks of antlers; birds display and puff their feathers; canines circle one another, hackles raised and lips curled. We upright animals, we talk shit. Faolán’s threats were meant to make me cower and reconsider an attack. “I’m going to kill you, Faolán.”

  “You’ve said as much. A few times. And yet I still live.”

  I eased back a step, crouched in a defensive position. The big talk would last only so long; one of us would have to make a move soon. Snow stuck to my hair as I moved, as if walking through cobwebs, and I wanted nothing more than to see the white flakes drift to the ground as they should. Faolán’s eyes narrowed as he tracked my movement like a cat about to pounce. He palmed his dagger, rotating it in his hand as if the movement soothed him.

  I tensed.

  Faolán sidestepped, one foot over the other, circling me and turning his back on Brakae. A flutter of movement from her body caught my attention, but I refused to break eye contact. I stared at the center of his face, right at his nose. I wanted it to seem that I was looking right through him, as if he mattered as much to me as the snowflakes hovering around my head.

  He smiled.

  Chills chased a wave of adrenaline as I waited for him to make his move. Better to be on the defensive, ready for a head-on assault. He was armed and I wasn’t. Charging him wasn’t in my best interest. Brakae stirred again, her movements more lively this time. I watched her in my peripheral vision, unwilling to rat her out with a sideways glance. Faolán continued to circle, making me nervous. With just a few more steps, Brakae would come into his line of sight, and he’d know she was regaining consciousness. Damn it. I had no choice. I had to protect her….

  Weaponless, defenseless, I did what I’d planned not to do. Faolán saw it in my eyes, and his own flashed silver as he dug his feet into the snow-covered earth and braced himself for the attack. There wasn’t enough space between us for me to pick up any kind of momentum, but I led with my feet, letting the thick soles of my boots take the first slice of Faolán’s blade.

  The sonofabitch was fast, bringing the dagger up and stabbing down before I had a chance to stand. The blade nicked my thigh, and I rolled away before he could put his weight behind the action and stab through to the muscle. My legs scissored, and I caught him in the groin. He fell to his knees, his face a snarling mask of rage.

  “When I’m through with you, I’m going to describe your death to your lover in detail.” Really? I’d thought we were through bullshitting. “I don’t think just your head will do. I’m going to cut you into tiny pieces and present each little bit to him on a silver platter.”

  I didn’t dignify him with a response. It was what he wanted after all. And what I wanted was to keep him nice and occupied—away from the hourglass and away from Brakae. With a quick roll, I was off my back and leapt to my feet. First thing I was going to do was break his jaw so he’d shut the fuck up.

  Faolán parried the blow, striking with the dagger. The blade swept down my forearm, my heavy sleeve tearing open, no longer there to add extra protection. Shit. I was going to be plated up like sushi if this kept up. I jumped back, the dagger missing my jugular by inches. I blew out a heavy breath of relief that clouded the air, mingling with the suspended flakes of snow.

  Faolán had been bred for battle, a true beast of war and a goddess’s strong arm. He was a warrior right to the marrow of his bones. He fought like one too. Ruthless, with a savage instinct. Raif hadn’t been able to keep the advantage in a fight with him, and I was suffering. Blood oozed from my many wounds, and my head swam as my vision darkened at the periphery. I fought to hold on to consciousness. My arms and legs felt like lead weights dangling from my body and, damn it, I was tired.

  Blow after blow, kicks and stabs, slicing into my skin over and again, Faolán made it apparent he had no intention of losing. I stumbled, then wiped the blood from my forehead to keep it from running into my eyes. He was playing with me now, like a cat with an injured mouse. Tyler, I thought, kicking out with my leg and hitting nothing but air, I wish you were here. I need you.

  I caught Faolán’s foot as it rocketed toward my head, but I didn’t have much strength left, and as I tried to twist it and break his knee, he pushed against me and threw me off balance. As I landed on my back, the breath left my lungs in a jarring whoosh, and I couldn’t draw new air to replace what I’d lost. Chest aching and eyes bulging, I was desperate for a deep breath. Faolán capitalized on my distress and brought his heel down on the center of my stomach. “Bastard!” I wheezed.

  I hated this place—hated it with every fiber of my being. I was weakened, nearly impotent in this fucking Faerie Realm. I wanted to go home. I wanted to throw my hands up and just—

  “Surrender.” Faolán finished my thought, kneeling so he could stare into my bashed and bloodied face. “You can’t stop what’s going to happen. So don’t try. I’ll kill you quick. I owe you that much for the part you’ve played. Just lie there and be still, and I’ll put an end to your suffering.”

  My mind must’ve been addled, because I thought about closing my eyes, nice and compliant, as I waited for Faolán to deliver the sweet, blissful oblivion he promised. But, as always, Fate had other plans for me. I wasn’t thinking when I let my eyes wander to the spot where Brakae had been lying unconscious—the spot that was now unoccupied.

  Faolán spun on the balls of his feet, rising to his full height. Brakae stood before him, the long dagger I’d discarded held aloft in her shaking hand. Bruises marred her beautiful face, blood dried and crusted on her robes. So much for true love.

  I rolled onto my hands and knees and dragged in ragged gulps of breath. My lungs burned, and I wanted to throw up. But I didn’t have time. Get your shit together. I sniffed, pulling dripping blood back up into my nose and choked as the coppery taste blazed a trail down my throat. Come on, Darian, get with the fucking program.

  “What are you going to do, my love?” Faolán’s voice was tender, concerned, as if the SOB hadn’t beaten and sliced her up earlier. “Would you kill me?”

  “Y-yes.” Brakae’s voice quavered, her eyes brimming over with tears that spilled down her cheeks. “If you don’t stop, I will have no choice but to kill you.”

  I pushed myself back up to my knees and took a moment to stabilize before standing. Brakae had Faolán’s undivided attention, her
sapphire blue eyes glistening with a steady stream of tears. Her jaw trembled as she fought to keep it raised in a defiant set. But she was struggling; I could see the almost-imperceptible breakdown of her resolve. She’d loved him. Hell, she might’ve loved him still. I knew better than anyone what that felt like. I’d taken Azriel’s life, and despite everything he’d done to me, I’d held him close to my heart.

  Faolán inched closer to Brakae. Her eyes darted from side to side, frantic like a trapped animal, and she flinched as he brought his hand up toward her face. “Don’t touch me.” She raised the dagger as a warning.

  “If you feel nothing for me”—Faolán edged closer to Brakae and I tensed—“then do what you must.” He made a show of bearing his chest to her and lifted the tip of her blade with his fingertip, positioning it over his heart. “Your new Guardian couldn’t protect you. It was her fault you were hurt. I never wanted harm to come to you. If you don’t believe me, take my life.”

  The heavy dagger vibrated under Brakae’s trembling hand. She couldn’t kill him. Not the man she’d loved. She was Raif’s daughter, a warrior’s blood coursed through her veins, but she was no killer. If she had been, she wouldn’t have needed a Guardian to help protect the natural order.

  Slowly, her fingers uncurled from around the dagger. Faolán had his back to me, but I didn’t have to see his face to know the triumph written there. He’d kill her, I had no doubt. He’d come too far, and his insanity had taken him to a place he couldn’t return from.

  I no longer wobbled on my feet. My lungs rose and fell as I drew deep, steady breaths. I watched as the dagger slipped from Brakae’s hand, falling soundlessly in this place frozen in time. Faolán reached out, his hands curled into claws, and a snarl tore from his throat. I pushed at the ground, the heavy tread of my boots slipping and then catching hold of the snow.

  “I’m sorry,” Faolán said as he reached for Brakae. “I will always love you.”

  I jumped, arms outstretched, and shoved her out of the way before Faolán could seize her. It wasn’t a graceful maneuver by any standards as Brakae went flying, but it got the job done. I rolled in a swift, fluid motion and scooped the dagger into my grasp.

  With a quick, upward stab, I aimed for the spot Faolán had laid bare for Brakae. The dagger sliced through skin, muscle, and bone as though his body were nothing more than a sheet of silk fabric. Veins of green glowed against the obsidian blade as Faolán pitched forward, knocking me backward. As he fell, the long dagger drove farther still, burying itself to the hilt.

  I shimmied my legs up between us and used the leverage to roll him off me. Blood, red and bright, stained the pristine snow and covered my hands with a slick warmth that nauseated me. I’d never had such an attack of conscience before—unless you considered Azriel’s death. The tragedy of it all hit too close to home for me to feel anything but regret. Only love could drive a person so completely into the arms of madness.

  “You are a Guardian worthy of the Order,” Faolán rasped. “My Enphigmalé brothers would be proud to have you amongst their ranks.”

  I knelt beside him, speechless.

  “Thank you.” His breath labored in his lungs, an ugly, gurgling sound. “For protecting her.”

  A scrambling noise drew my attention, and I looked up to see Brakae crawling through the snow, silent sobs catching in her throat. The dagger still protruded from Faolán’s chest, and I pulled with everything I had left, determined to provide Brakae with a slightly less gruesome image to remember her beloved by.

  Taking the dagger with me, I turned my back as Brakae gently lowered herself on to his torso and wept in earnest. Had she been able to look into his eyes one last time before he faded away? I refused to intrude upon her private moment by turning back to see. Brushing away hovering snowflakes, I limped to the stone podium at the center of the ring of stones. A pit-pat sound accompanied every step, blood dripping from my scored and stabbed flesh to stain the snow-covered ground with shiny red tears.

  I approached the hourglass with caution. It wasn’t every day I attempted to set time aright. My ring glowed white on the neck of the broken half as if waiting to be put to work. Love really was an amazing thing. It could mend hearts, break them, and bend the very fabric of time and space. It bowed to no one, and could bring you to your knees for the right person. My eyelids drooped; I was keeping my eyes open by sheer force of will. Damn, I wanted to sleep for a century or more. But my job wasn’t finished—yet.

  Chapter 31

  I stared unblinkingly at the hourglass for what seemed like forever. I looked around past the ring of stones at the naked tree branches and snowflakes dotting the air. Time to set the natural order back in balance. I shivered, finally feeling the chill. Or was it fear that shook me? How much time had passed at home? Were my loved ones safe?

  All I had to do was reach out and pluck my ring from the neck of the glass, but my brain was having a hard time getting my arm, hand, and fingers to obey the command. How could I face Tyler again? My actions had been a betrayal of our love. Shame boiled in my stomach, twisting it with regret.

  “Just reach out and take it, Darian.” Moira’s voice was soft, soothing.

  She stood behind me, and I didn’t turn to face her. “When did you come to?”

  “Too late to be of any use.”

  “Sorry about that.” I really was. “I shouldn’t have knocked you out.”

  “No. And I won’t forget it either.” She sounded playful, but the moment was too somber for comic relief. “You did well.”

  I choked on a sob, swallowing it down. “Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ll be counting it as a victory.”

  “No,” Moira whispered. “This is indeed a tragedy.”

  Understatement of the century. “Just reach out and grab it, huh?”

  “The ring belongs to you.”

  “It’s not going to explode or spontaneously burst into flames?”

  Moira laughed without humor. “Not likely. Just take it, Darian. Trust.”

  Trust. Like I had any idea what that was. But I reached out anyway, my fingers trembling. God, I was afraid. I wrapped my fingers around the ring—my ring—and the warmth pulsing from the silver put me at ease. If the ring hadn’t burned my hand to ash, then maybe that meant Tyler could forgive me. I pulled it from its perch, and as I did, the snow left its stasis and began to float in a slow waltz to the ground. A warm breeze kissed my cheeks, and the branches of the trees quivered, tiny buds of green dotting their once-bare arms.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered.

  “Darian…”

  Brakae’s voice, tiny but somehow strong, drew my attention from the natural wonder before me. Slipping my ring back on my thumb, I left Moira to collect Reaver’s half of the hourglass and went to check on Raif’s daughter. Raif’s. Daughter. My God, I’d really found her. Well, more to the point, she had found me.

  She left Faolán’s body in the now-melting snow and walked toward me with slow, measured steps. Like a hollow representation of her former self, she limped along, gripping her side to stem the flow of blood from one of her many wounds.

  “Are you all right?” What a stupid question.

  “No,” she said, and I respected her for her candor. “But I will be.”

  Time heals all wounds, right? “I—Brakae—” Fuck, what the hell was I going to say? Sorry I killed the guy you used to love.

  “We are nothing more than the servants of destiny,” she said, holding her hand out to me. I took it, and, well, it didn’t even feel a little awkward. “Leave this behind like a stone on the road.”

  Raif had said that to me once. I felt the sting of tears at my eyes and bit back the emotion. I missed him. Brakae looked as tired as I felt, as emotionally raw and worked over. We’d both passed through the eye of the storm and come out on the other side. And I knew neither of us would ever be the same for it. Her gaze lowered to my neck, and her lips curved in a sad, wan smile. From her robes she produced a glowing green emerald
suspended from a length of silver chain. “The Key,” I said, taking it from her waiting hand.

  “It’s not an easy job,” Brakae said, “being the Guardian of Time.”

  “Or the Keeper of it,” I added. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and sorrow consumed her expression. She had it much worse than I. She’d suffered and sacrificed. She needed a ray of sun in the dark of her life. “Can I bring your father here?” Hope swelled within me at the thought. I refused to believe Raif had died in that hotel room. Damn it, he had to be alive, and I was going to reunite him with his daughter. “So he can see you?”

  I saw a trace of sunlight in her expression, maybe the beginning of a long road toward healing. “I would like that,” she said. “Very much.”

  Suddenly, I felt a little sun as well.

  Moira joined us, carrying Brakae’s half of the hourglass in one hand and Reaver’s half tucked in the crook of her arm. Weren’t we just the embodiment of girl power? “Brakae,” she said, “your wounds need tending.”

  Her knees wobbled beneath her, and I reached out to support her. Where were those trauma nurse Sprites when you needed them?

  “I can help her,” Moira said.

  “You’re a Healer.” Levi had mentioned that. I was going to have to keep that guy on retainer. “Right?”

  Moira nodded and made her way to Brakae. She touched her fingertips to her skin, and a soft blue light flowed from the wound, moving outward like rings on glassy water. She began to hum while she worked, a rhythmic, melodious tune that snaked around me and filled me with emotion. It struck me as strange, the way lives and events intertwined to form the knotted chain of destiny. It made me think that, maybe, life wasn’t just a random pattern of bullshit tied to bad luck or good fortune. “Moira…”