The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse

by Melissa Myers

  “Glad we see eye to eye on the matter.” Kali grinned at him, looking far too pleased with herself. There were times when he w anted to slap her, given her temper, though he generally just walked away. Which was exactly what he intended to do now. “Nighty night, Hemmy. Let me know the moment you return,” Kali added cheerfully as he crossed to the portal stone.

  “Of course, Kali,” Hemlock replied with his own forced smile. Someone in the city would have a very bad night, now. He needed to vent his irritation on someone other than Kali. Kali was too useful to kill, and that was the only thing that had kept his blade from her throat for a very long time. He was a survivor to the core, and he knew he needed Kali to survive. He would do whatever he had to, even if it was allying with a nutty bitch, to save a world he despised. The irony of the situation brought a smile to his face and his irritation with the night eased a little. Hemlock, the savior. He nearly laughed at the thought. Charm would choke on his own vomit if he ever learned the truth of it all.

  Chapter 10

  The Darklands

  Seth sat down wearily at the table and stared at the unconscious girl on his bed. She was little more than skin stretched over bones. It was a state of starvation that was far past anything he’d seen other Undrae able to control. Typically the creatures siphoned from anything that got near them when they were hungry, yet somehow Zoelyn had managed to limit her power to touch alone. It was remarkable, really. In her current state, she shouldn’t have had the willpower to resist draining.

  He knew he could get her in good condition before she woke, but it would require regaining some of his own power, first. That was the part he was dreading. It would be simple if Finn would simply grant him a soul as Death had done so often. One single spirit and he would be spared the torment of regaining his power the other way, but Finn didn’t seem to understand, and he wasn’t allowed to ask.

  Frustration welled in his chest and Seth rose abruptly from the chair. His eyes lingered on the room for a long moment before he forced himself to accept the truth. If he wanted power, he had to serve penance. He had motivation for it now, though. There was an Undrae in existence. That meant someone knew the only spell to bring a soul back that Death had no way of stopping. With the proper sacrifice, he could live again, and there was nothing Finn could do to stop it. All he had to do was figure out who created the girl. With a deep sigh, Seth gave Zoelyn a final glance and headed out of the room toward his own personal hell.

  Everyone who sinned had penance to serve in the Darklands. That was simply how it was. His, however, was different from most. Death had fine-tuned his penance to excruciating levels and then forced it to be his choice. He didn’t have to face the pain he was walking to, unless he wanted power. He could ignore it for years, but then, he wouldn’t have the strength to travel to the sunlit world, or to hold his status among the creatures of the Darklands, for that matter. Death had created the room as one option, the other had been to do as she wished and she would reward him with souls. Now she was dead, though, and Finn was clueless, so his only choice was the room.

  Seth rubbed his face and stared hard at the door before him. Ravens had been carved into the black wood with such detail that they seemed ready to take flight. A knot coiled in his stomach as he pressed his palm against the door. A pale glow illuminated the seams for a breath and the door slowly swung open. The interior was black as pitch, and not even his eyes could pierce the shadows inside. He entered without hesitation, though. He knew nothing was waiting inside for him. The only other creature in the Darklands that could open this room was Death itself, and Finn had not yet learned that this room existed.

  He could feel the magic of the room coil around him as soon as the door closed behind him. It pulled at him like a neglected child demanding his attention. With a low growl, Seth pushed it back, and tried to organize his thoughts. The magic in this room held every moment of his life that had led him to where he was now. As Death had explained it, the more he suffered, the more strength he regained. He typically spent days in this room when he served penance, slowly building his power back with the short memories that were least painful to remember. He didn’t have time for that now, though, so he really only had one option: Dashara. The knot in his stomach grew tighter as he focused his mind on her. The room began to fade around him as the room’s magic seized his focus. Walls fell way, leaving trees and green fields around him as the magic fully immersed him in a pain he never thought he would face again.

  His horse pranced nervously beneath him and Seth stiffened in the saddle. His gaze swept over the surrounding forest and then to the small house. As far as he could tell, nothing was out of place. Everything looked just as it always did. His eyes swept over the yard once more, counting the scattered hens before moving to the stable yard. Dashara’s small sorrel mare stood in the paddock, eating peacefully.

  “I think you are getting as paranoid as I am, Crow,” Seth murmured as he ran a hand down his black’s neck. It would stand to reason that the horse would be paranoid, he supposed. The gelding had been through every battle Seth had fought, not to mention the quieter missions in the dead of night that Dashara didn’t know about. Pushing the thoughts back, Seth pressed his heels lightly into Crow’s sides, urging the gelding forward once more. The horse snorted loudly and tossed his head before breaking into a quick trot. “Not sure what has gotten into you, but you can sort through it in the stall,” Seth grumbled as they neared the stable door.

  He glanced toward the house as he dropped from the saddle. Dominic usually ran out to greet him when he returned home. The door was still shut, though, with no sign of his son anywhere. With a frown Seth grabbed the reins and led his horse toward the stable. Crow gave another loud snort as Seth pulled the door open. The gelding danced back, his eyes rolling, pulling the reins free of Seth’s hand as he whirled and ran.

  With a muffled curse, Seth dropped flat against the barn wall, one hand on his dagger. He hadn’t seen anything inside, and all of the animals in the barnyard were behaving normally, but Crow had bolted. Crow never bolted.

  “Smart horse you have there, Seth,” a man’s voice called from inside. It was low and calm with no trace of the Avanti accent.

  “Who are you and what the bloody hell are you doing in my barn,” Seth growled back as he raised his dagger before him and tilted the blade toward the open door. The light caught the polished metal and for a moment it served as a mirror into the barn. He caught a glimpse of a figure moving to the left of the doorway and readied himself to attack.

  “You might want to reconsider throwing that dagger. You might accidently hit Dominic here. You don’t want to do that, do you, Seth?”

  The voice paused and took on a sweeter note. “Tell your daddy not to hurt you, Dominic. That would be wrong, wouldn’t it?”

  “Daddy, please don’t.” Dominic’s childish voice was louder than the stranger’s, with a note of pleading in it that sent shards of pain through Seth’s chest.

  “Where is mommy, Dominic?” Seth called carefully, trying to keep the desperation from his words.

  “Dashara is inside waiting for you, Seth. We just have to settle a few things first,” the man replied calmly. “Toss that dagger on the ground and step around the wall. I have a game for you Seth. I know you must love games. You would have to after all of the time you have spent playing hide and go seek with High Lord Avanti.”

  “Who are you?” Seth demanded as he obeyed the man’s order and tossed the dagger to the grass. It hardly mattered; he had plenty more to use. He never carried just one weapon.

  “I’m wounded, Seth. Do you really not know who I am?” Mockery laced the man’s every word and Seth prayed there would be a way to land a dagger without risking Dominic.

  Muscles tensed, he pushed off the wall and stepped inside the barn quickly. The man stood just inside, leaning against Crow’s stall with one leg balanced on the wall. Dominic sat on his upraised leg while the stranger’s arm supported him and held him fi
rmly in place. He couldn’t tell much about the man beyond his basic build. The long gray cloak he wore covered every detail that Seth could have used to identify him.

  “I have no idea who you are, but it was a remarkably bad idea to use my son against me,” Seth replied in a low voice that would have sent most running. Everyone on Sanctuary knew him, and most had known of him before Sanctuary even existed. This man had to either be a complete fool or a clueless pup to prod him in his own home.

  “Tsk, Tsk. You of all people should know me. We are the topic of enough gossip you know. Everyone is always speculating which of us is better…” The man’s voice trailed off and Seth could feel pleasure radiating from him. “Time to give them all the answer, Seth. Let’s decide here and now who is the better Assassin, you or me.”

  “Hemlock,” Seth breathed as panic welled in his chest. It wasn’t that he was scared of the man in a fight, it was the fear of what the man had already had time to do. Dashara could be dead already.

  “Good, now that you have that figured out, we can move on to the important things,” Hemlock began. “How did you find me?” Seth demanded before Hemlock had a chance to continue his torment.

  “You went on a rescue mission today and it was a complete success. Did it seem just a bit too easy, Seth?” Hemlock asked in a mocking voice. “It should have. I gave very strict orders to allow you free reign while I located your horse. Funny thing, the bastard must have recognized my scent when you got here. Maybe he was feeling guilty and that’s why he ran,” Hemlock mused.

  “What?” Seth asked in utter confusion. Hemlock was right the mission had been far too simple and it had been eating at him for most of the ride home.

  Hemlock sighed dramatically and tilted his head upward as if beseeching the gods for patience. “I could have had you today, Seth. I was right there the entire time. That wasn’t the deal, though. The High Lord wanted Dashara and your bastards as well. So I had to make this a family affair.” Hemlock paused and shrugged one shoulder as if in a halfhearted apology. “See, you have been a royal pain in the ass for House Avanti, but the real trouble maker is Dashara. He wants her dead and he wants you to suffer. Yet, he has tried for four years to make that happen and keeps failing. So he hired me, and here we are.” Hemlock raised one hand and waved it lightly between the two of them. “You fucked up, Seth. You always ride the same horse, and it’s a rather nice one at that, very easy to find. Every peasant for three hundred miles knows the Crow King’s horse, and there aren’t many Veir bred mounts in Avanti. I think Crow may be the only one, and he is a smart one, just like everyone says the Veir horses are. He remembered the way home perfectly. All it took was a quick mind scan to solve the mystery of where you hide. So, thanks to your horse, and thank you as well, Seth. Without your favoritism, I wouldn’t have found you nearly this easily.”

  Seth swallowed hard and bit back the sharp words he wanted to use. “Is Dashara dead?” he asked in the calmest voice he could manage. Hemlock laughed and pushed off the wall as he lifted Dominic into his arms and cradled the child against him. Seth’s eyes flicked to his son’s face and the look of terror that he wore. The child was only four and Seth doubted he even knew what was going on. He wanted to offer him reassurances, but he had never lied to his son before, and he wouldn’t start now.

  “You know, I never guessed you to be a family man, Seth. This should be fun,” Hemlock said with a chuckle. He bounced Dominic against his hip and smiled down at the boy. “Your Daddy is in an awful lot of trouble, young man. Let this all be a lesson to you for the future. Violence begets violence.”

  “Is Dashara dead?” Seth demanded, his words cracking through the empty stable with enough force to make Dominic jump.

  “Tsk, Tsk, Seth. You scared him.” Hemlock shook his head in disapproval and then laughed again. “Dashara is still very much alive. She is waiting for you, in fact. Of course I need to explain the rules to you. Dominic already knows them. See how quiet he is being and so well behaved.”

  Seth’s hand clenched at his side and it was all he could do to keep from throwing a dagger. Had it been someone else he would have, but Hemlock had a reputation as good as his own. It was possible the man could dodge the knife and then Dominic would suffer for it.

  “Ahh. I can see the desire to kill me so clearly, Seth. Pity you aren’t strong enough to act on it. I’d like to know which of us would win in a fair fight. Avanti doesn’t want fair, though, he wants suffering. So here we go. Dashara is as good as dead, but you have a chance to save your children and maybe even yourself. The High Lord values your talents, but your loyalty is somewhat lacking.” Hemlock paused and traced a gloved finger down Dominic’s face. “Such a good boy, and his life is entirely in your hands, Seth. The key is your good behavior. We are going to go inside shortly and you are going to stand right beside me with every one of your weapons. I won’t even take your sword. You, however, are not allowed to move a muscle once we are inside. No talking, no twitching of fingers, and no tears. I have a bet that you won’t be able to do it, but Uindraely says you can. She seems to think you are made of iron, but personally, after watching your anger and panic in the past few minutes, I think she is wrong.”

  “Less taunting, more explaining, please,” Seth growled. This was not going in a good direction at all, but if he had his weapons, he had hope. Even if it was slim hope, it was better than nothing.

  “Fine. You move. I cut the child. You talk. I cut the child. You cry… Well, you get the picture. You fight, though. You fight, and I don’t just hurt him, Seth. I gut the little bastard and let him die a slow death at your feet. Understood?” Hemlock’s voice had grown low and Dominic whimpered faintly at his words. “Now, now, Dominic, we discussed this. You cry or scream and your little sister gets hurt, remember?” Hemlock’s voice grew gentle once more as he chided the boy and Dominic abruptly grew silent. “Manage to behave as Lord Avanti wants, and your children live, Seth.”

  “He wants Dashara to believe I betrayed her,” Seth whispered hoarsely.

  “I think it’s more along the lines of wanting her to believe you were betraying her all along. He wants her to die knowing you never loved her at all,” Hemlock corrected in an amused voice. “After all, how could anyone watch someone they love die without even making a sound?” Hemlock mused as he moved toward the door. “Follow along like a good little servant, Seth. From what I understand, you used to be the perfect dog for Avanti before Dashara spread her legs for you. Must have been damned good sex for you to turn your back on Avanti for this little rebellion. Too bad you fucked up, eh? I mean, just think of how many people died because of you. Not only will your wife die, everyone that followed her will die, too. By the time this night is over, your entire rebellion will be an unpleasant memory.”

  Seth followed behind in utter silence. He was certain the game had begun the moment they started walking toward the house, and he wasn’t about to let harm come to Dominic over Hemlock’s taunting. He had served House Avanti his entire life. There was nothing Hemlock could say that would make him break. Every painful word that could be spoken was already ground into his soul by the Avanti. The true test of his will would come when he faced Dashara. It would take everything he had to remain silent when she looked at him as a traitor.

  The house was silent as they entered. Seth’s eyes scanned the small kitchen and the dining room as Hemlock continued on. Everything was neat and tidy as it always was. Dashara hated clutter and kept the house nearly spotless. His throat tightened as Hemlock paused in front of the bedroom door. The Assassin turned back to look at him with a wide smile showing through the shadows of his cloak.

  “Better let me take a quick peek, first. I have to make sure they are ready for you and Dashara is decent. I think a few of the guards took a turn with her. No doubt they wanted to see if it was really worth a rebellion,” Hemlock whispered as he pushed the door open just far enough to glance inside. “All clear. Let’s get this over with, shall we,” he suggested as
he pushed the door fully open.

  Their bedroom had always seemed large to him before. Seth had lived his entire life as a servant and his quarters had never been as lavish as the home he shared with Dashara. Tonight, however, the room seemed small and cramped. Guards lined the walls while Donrey Avanti himself stood in the center of the room, looming like Death over his eldest daughter. Dashara’s eyes flashed to him and Seth watched with despair as hope lit her battered features. She was tied to a chair in the center of the room. Her beautiful red-gold hair was matted with blood and by the bruises and cuts on her beautiful face, she had endured several beatings before he arrived.

  “Sorry for the delay, High Lord. Seth and I had a few things to discuss. I think we have everything sorted out between us now, though. He understands exactly what his payment will be for this,” Hemlock said as he bowed his head to Donrey.

  “Payment?” Dashara asked, her sweet voice trembling with the word. Her hope turned to question as she watched him and Seth knew she was waiting for him to speak. If he did, though, Dominic would suffer. It took everything he had to hold his words back, but he had no choice. Both Dashara and he had willingly accepted their fates when they turned on House Avanti. Their children had not. His son and daughter were innocent and no matter how much it hurt, he would not let them suffer for their parents’ sins, even if it meant letting Dashara die believing he had never cared at all. His throat tightened at the thought but he kept his face carefully neutral. For all he knew, Hemlock would take a frown as a reason to harm his son. The Assassin had specified quite clearly “no movement,” so he wouldn’t even move his lips.