by Apryl Baker
“I don’t understand.” She made no sense to Katyia.
Olivia rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Did you honestly think I’d let you take Nicolette’s rightful place as Regent? You? A filthy little bastard?”
Katyia paled. What was she going on about? “Why would you say that, Mother? I never wanted the role of Regent.”
“Lies!” Olivia’s hand whipped out and slapped her. “You’ve always been jealous of your sister. No more will I allow you to take what is hers! All these years, she’s had to share everything with you. Never again!”
Her hand came up to cover her cheek, stinging with the force of the blow her mother dealt her. Had Olivia lost her mind? Alarm spread through her when three guards entered, grim faced and stoic. “Mother?”
“Stop calling me that!” Olivia hissed. “I am not your mother. She was a filthy whore, and I’ve had to clean up her mess all these years. You are nothing but a reminder of my husband’s inability to stay faithful to me.”
She cringed back from the venom in her mother’s voice. Katyia had never realized the extent of the hatred Olivia felt for her. It scared her. The wild look in the woman’s eyes told her something bad was coming; she just wasn’t prepared for what.
The guards grabbed her, binding her mouth, her hands, and feet before she’d even processed the attack. Olivia laughed, the maniacal sound reverberating through the room. Katyia couldn’t even use her magic to defend herself. She needed her hands to release the defensive spells, but they’d bound even her fingers together. It hadn’t occurred to her she’d need to defend herself against her own mother.
“Tonight, I will be rid of you for good. Not even your father will allow you back into this house.”
Panic crawled up her spine as she fought against the bonds holding her. They’d used silver. Her magic was useless against silver bonds. It caused her no pain, just nullified her magic. What was Olivia talking about? What could make her father cast her out?
One of the guards picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Oh, God, where were they taking her? Her bindings made it impossible for her to fight in this position, but she pushed up enough to see Olivia. She stared back, smiling. Happy. What had she ever done to Olivia but love her?
“Go out through the back. A horse is waiting. Take her directly to the camp.”
The guard carrying her grunted and started walking. Fear encased Katyia, but she tried to force it aside. She did her best to kick, to struggle, but it was a useless fight. She screamed as loud as she could as they swiftly fled down the hall, past her brothers’ and sister’s bedrooms. The rag stuffed in her mouth prevented her screams from being anything more than a whisper of a sound.
She was out of breath by the time they made it to the horse. The guard tossed her up, belly down, and then climbed up behind her. He pulled her up onto his lap and secured her before kicking the horse, spurring it into movement. Wind tore at her, and the cold invaded her bones. She’d been bundled out in nothing more than her thin nightgown. The bitter winds ripped at her skin, the cold doing nothing to numb the pain eating up her side into her shoulder from the ravager’s wound.
Tears spilled. She let her head rest against the horse, trying to calm herself. Pain knifed into her side and she fought off the blackness threatening to consume her. Her mother’s betrayal hurt as much as the physical pain now needling away at her. While Olivia might not be her birth mother, she was the only mother Katyia knew. She’d tried so hard to make Olivia love her like she did the rest of her siblings. Nothing had ever been good enough, but she kept trying. Now she understood that no matter what she’d done, Olivia would never love her. She despised her for something Katyia had no control over, something that wasn’t her fault.
That knowledge did nothing to dispel the hurt inside, a hurt so deep Katyia didn’t think it would ever heal. She remembered her own mother. She’d come to live with her father after the ravager attack that killed both her mother and little brother. She’d survived the attack, but barely. Even at the young age of five, her magic had saved her. She’d somehow killed the beast, but to this day she didn’t know how.
When her father arrived three days later for his usual visit, he found the remains of her family and her sitting, terrified, in a corner. Nicolette and the boys had taken to her immediately, but Olivia had been cruel from the beginning. Katyia had needed Olivia’s love and support during those first few days, but she’d only gotten disdain. It became Katyia’s obsession to gain the woman’s love. A feat she’d never accomplished and never would.
The horse slowed and Katyia’s fear spiraled, her breathing ragged and labored. Her choices were gone. She was helpless for the first time in her life. Where were they? She tried to turn her head, but she couldn’t see past the horse’s neck. She strained her ears. Faint sounds of crying reached her, people arguing, and general shouting. Where were they?
The guard grunted, stopping the horse, before removing the gag from her mouth so she could breathe a little better. He must have noticed the difficulty she had pulling air into her lungs. Katyia took several deep breaths and tried once more. “Please, what is going on? Where are we? My father…”
“It is of no matter what you plead, girl. It falls on deaf ears this night.” The coldness in his voice made any last vestige of hope shrivel up. “It will be quick. I promise. You won’t feel a thing.”
Katyia felt the needle prick her skin and tried to fight, but it was useless. Within seconds she felt her body grow heavy, her eyes droop as sleep tried to claim her, but she fought it. He’d drugged her. She needed to stay awake. Bad things happened when you were unconscious. Another lesson her brothers had taught her. Fight the effects until you couldn’t.
The guard moved her off his lap and then dismounted. He hefted her up in his arms and started walking. Was he going to kill her? Was that what he meant by being quick and not feeling anything? With each step, her despair grew. If she managed to get out of this alive, Katyia would never allow herself to be compromised again. It would be a cold day in hell before she felt this helpless again.
“Another one for you.” His chest vibrated as he spoke. “This one isn’t for the feeders’ lot, though.”
“All the new ones are to be feeders.” A woman’s voice pierced the fog trying to wrap itself around her senses. “We have more than enough…”
“No. The Regent was specific. This girl is not to be a blood mule. He wants no harm to come to her.”
“No harm will come to any of our feeders.” She sounded appalled he’d think such a thing.
“Be that as it may, there are specific instructions regarding this girl. Will you honor them or not?”
“What is wrong with her?” the woman demanded. Katyia felt a warm breath on her cheek The woman had leaned in close to inspect her.
“The Regent wished her to feel no harm. He requested we drug her. I was assured that would in no way complicate the turn.”
The turn? What did he mean? Katyia strained her ears to hear the reply, but the voices became muted, like she was at the end of a long tunnel. She knew it was the effects of the drugs, but she tried once again to move, to speak. She couldn’t force movement into her drug induced limbs or words from her lips. There was no stopping what was planned for her. She just wished she knew what it was.
They were walking again. Her body jostled just a little as they moved. Soon, he laid her down. It wasn’t soft, so maybe just the hard packed earth? It felt cold, like the ground. Her eyes became weights, closing. What was happening? Frustration and rage welled up.
“This will hurt. I wish it were otherwise, but I have no way to spare you the pain that is coming.” The words were whispered against her ear, the only reason she could make them out. Pain? What…
Something like a blade pierced her neck. It wasn’t that bad. The drugs must have muted her pain response. The sensation of something pulling at her skin, though, was a little uncomfortable. It was the oddest sensation…wait. Her father had
made a deal to protect his people, a deal with vampires. He refused to tell her the price, but she understood now. He’d bartered with the lives of the few to save the many. He’d given them to the vampires to serve as blood mules.
The woman pried her mouth open and hot liquid filled it. She tried to spit it out, but between the drugs and the sheer strength of the woman holding her head, her feeble attempt failed. It coated her mouth and slid down her throat. Her taste buds exploded with sensation as the coppery substance washed over her tongue. It tasted of honey and the sweetbreads filled with fruits the cooks made on special occasions. Delicious sin.
She found herself craving more, and drug induced or not, her arms came up and latched onto the woman’s wrist and she began to suck hard at open wound. She heard a yelp of pain, but paid it no mind. Her only intent was to savor the flavor. Katyia had never wanted anything more in all her life.
The woman tugged at her arm, trying to free herself, but Katyia held on. No one would deprive her of this wonderful elixir. She heard the woman call out, and then a moment later, strong hands pried her fingers loose. Katyia lay there, exhausted. Her head began to ache. The pain started right behind her eyes and radiated to the base of her skull. It reminded her of the time her brother had given her her first swordsmanship lesson. He’d accidentally hit her on the head with the sword. The headache lasted for days. This pain felt very much like that, only ten times worse. Why were they being so loud? Every whisper felt like a clap of thunder.
The hiss made her body freeze up, ignoring the pain in her head. It was a sound she knew well. Why didn’t they hear it? Her eyes were too heavy to open, but she heard it. Where was it? Why didn’t those fools do something? They were just chatting away while the thing got closer to them.
A scream broke out and Katyia’s reaction was to jump, but her body lay motionless. The hissing sound came from right beside her, and the two people in the room suddenly went quiet. Katyia tried to open her eyes, but her body refused to cooperate. She could smell it. That sickly lavender scent. Panic crawled through her when she heard the distinct sound of a blade being drawn. He couldn’t get to her in time. Not with it this close.
It crouched over her, hissing. Oh God, please help me, she prayed. Don’t let it kill me. Its claws dug into her skin and it settled over her like very much like a bird did with its babes in the nest. The heaviness of its body covered her, and the screech it let out deafened her. Her ears worked overtime to try to hear what was going on. The screams outside were a symphony of chaos, but the whistling of the sword slicing through the air held her attention. She heard the crunch of bone and then the body on top of her went limp, collapsing.
Hot, sticky goo filled her open mouth, and then fire lit her mouth, molten lava traveled down her throat and landed in the pit of her stomach. Nausea rolled through her, and she gagged. The body lifted off her and she heard their gasp of horror. They saw what she felt. The black blood coating her face, dripping into her mouth. The heat spread out from her stomach, traveling along every nerve ending she had. It blazed a fiery trail through every cell in her body. She was hot. So hot. Pain exploded. Every muscle, every organ, everything suddenly decided to assault her. It felt like her insides were melting. The pain…oh God, the pain.
She screamed. This time she heard it. Not even the drugs could stop the scream of agony that came from the center of her very being. Flashes of red coated her vision. Violent images flickered at the edges of her consciousness. Disturbing as they were, nothing competed with the pain. It ripped her apart from the inside out.
“Don’t touch her!” the woman shouted. “It’s not safe.”
“But…”
“Get Roman. Now.”
Katyia barely heard them. Her vision pulsed red, then black. The pain overwhelmed her consciousness and it faded to blessed darkness.
Roman sheathed his sword, a dead ravager at his feet. At least no one died. One sliced up Braun pretty good when three of them broke through the west side. The lad would be fine in a day or two. There were a few humans who would be turned who had been marked as feeders because of mortal wounds received in the fight. One good thing about being a vampire was their unnatural healing ability. A deadly wound for a human was a scratch to them.
He walked through the camp, checking on people. Several of the humans, while still terrified of him, had grateful looks on their faces. He and his warriors had saved them from the ravagers. Roman had to wonder just how much the Regent’s guard let them fend for themselves, especially those outside of the failing barrier. Ivan wasn’t a bad man. Roman sensed the Regent’s burning desire to protect his people. The guards, however, were lazy idiots. He’d guess they rarely lifted a hand to do much of anything toward protection. The Regent’s inability to see what was happening within his own brotherhood of warriors rested squarely on the man’s shoulders. It made him a weak leader. Refusing to see problems helped no one.
The girl had balls, though. Her bravery impressed him. She’d stood her ground and fought against a ravager. That tiny little bit of fluff standing up to a ravager. He smiled just thinking of it. She’d stood up to him too. Not many dared to do that, but she only gave him sass. Granted, she’d been about to pass out from blood loss. Roman had no doubt if she’d been at her full faculties, she’d have ripped into him for the slur against her father. The girl was loyal to a fault.
Greggor fell into step beside him, cleaning his sword. “Three will need to be turned. There is no saving them.”
Roman nodded. “I suspected as much. Have we swept the outskirts for any more surprises?”
“I did it myself. We’ll have no more unexpected visitors this night.”
“How many more were there?”
“Two.” Greggor sheathed his sword and rolled his massive shoulders. “It was to be expected with this many humans out in the open. We knew their scent would draw them like bees to honey.”
One trait the vampires shared with the ravagers was their need for fresh blood. Human blood had a distinct smell and taste. Roman had been born a vampire, but Greggor had not. His brother explained to him that blood tasted differently to him now. Before it had been a tinny, coppery taste, but after the change it took on the flavors of some of Greggor’s favorite sweet treats. Roman often laughed when Greggor tried to explain. He’d get all goofy talking of his family’s Christmas sticky buns. Roman remembered them, but to him, blood had tasted better.
“Roman!”
They turned to see Jackovyn running toward them, his face a mask of fear. He and Greggor exchanged curious glances. Jackovyn was not one given to worrying about much of anything. It wasn’t in his nature. The sky could be falling around him and he’d be laughing.
He stopped in front of them, out of breath. “Roman…something…”
“Take a deep breath, man,” Greggor said.
Jackovyn took several deep breaths. “Delia needs you. Something is wrong with one of the turns.”
“Wrong?”
“There was a fight…some of its blood got in her mouth during the turn. Delia’s scared.”
Roman took off at a dead run. He didn’t know what if any effect the blood would have on the girl’s turn, but if it combined with the vampire virus? She could turn out to be a deadly killing machine with no conscience and only a thirst for blood. Or she could be just fine. Either way, he needed to see this for himself.
Delia met him outside the tent. Her face was white, her eyes wide and frightened. Delia was the toughest woman he knew. She never showed any kind of fear, but terror came off her in waves. He smelled it.
“Tell me.”
“It’s doing something to her.” She wrung her hands and looked over her shoulder. “She doesn’t smell right, Roman.”
He stepped past her into the tent. The soft glow of the lantern illuminated the girl. She twisted and turned, her mouth open in a silent scream. Not unusual for a turn. They went through quite a bit of pain as their body rearranged its DNA to that of the vampire. What b
rought him up short was who lay bound hand and foot in front of him.
“Delia!”
Delia stepped inside, hesitant to come any closer to the girl.
“Who brought this girl here?” Fury encased his voice.
“A guard. He said she wasn’t to go to feeders. It was on the orders of the Regent.”
Roman snarled. The man truly had no honor. He’d given his own daughter to the slaughter. He knelt and studied her. He leaned in close and sniffed her. It nearly knocked him off his feet. He’d smelled her earlier when he’d taken her home. Vanilla. It stayed with him all day. She still smelled of vanilla, but there was something more. He leaned closer, burying his nose in her neck. It was rich, dark, and heady. He pushed closer, his tongue swiping at her skin. Her taste invaded his mouth and he almost groaned at the sheer pleasure. He forced himself to lean back and take a good look at her. Hair darker than the darkest night hung in heavy waves around her face. Her eyes were closed, but he remembered them. Green, like the fields he’d played in as a boy. Her face seemed to be luminous even in the shadowy light of the lantern. He’d thought her beautiful before, but now her face looked almost angelic. Their blood didn’t enhance a person’s appearance. It made them faster, stronger, and almost impossible to kill, but it didn’t make them beautiful. The ravager’s blood seemed to be enhancing her beauty, making her even more appealing to her prey. Her scent too, he admitted. All he wanted to do right now was lean back down and breathe her in.
He could sense her body adapting to its new makeup like any new turn. Pain etched itself on her face, the sheer horror of what was happening to her painted on the canvas of her expression. Delia was right, though. This virus bonded with the ravager’s blood.
“Roman?”
His stood and faced Delia and Greggor, who gasped when he got a good look at the girl.
“Isn’t that the Regent’s daughter? The one we delivered to him?”
“Aye.”