by Kallysten
But now… If what Simon said was true, Marc knew. He remembered.
Was it a coincidence that he had been taken by demons right after uncovering that knowledge that shouldn’t have been his? He had battled demons for decades upon decades and never received more than scrapes. Blake couldn’t believe that the timing was a coincidence. What Marc had seen had to have affected him. He must have lost focus. That was why he had been captured.
Blake refused to think even for a second that Marc hadn’t been captured and had been killed instead. The possibility was too terrifying to even acknowledge.
“We have to go.” He was almost startled by how rough his voice sounded. “We have to go and get him now.”
Kate was trembling against him, but her voice was steady when she asked, “Simon? Are you coming? We could use your help.”
Simon didn’t hesitate for even a second before nodding. “Yes. Of course.” For once, there was no scent of fear wafting from him. “But I’m not sure I remember the way. I wasn’t feeling too good, and I just followed Jen.”
“Wait,” Daniel said, “slow down. Think for a minute.”
At the same time, Jen said forcefully, “I’m not going. You said you’d do that spell on my tattoo, mage. That was the deal: I go with you two and you make it impossible for demons to track me. Do it now. Before you leave.”
“Deal?” Daniel’s voice rose in volume. “I didn’t agree to any deal. And we can’t go rushing through the breach like that. I need to ask my superiors—”
“Daniel,” Kate interrupted him. “You already know that they’ll say no. They only agreed before because they couldn’t afford to lose Simon, you said so yourself. If you don’t want to go without their approval, then don’t. We’re going, and that’s that.”
When Kate told Simon to go inside to do his magic on Jen—and do it fast—Daniel didn’t react. The most peculiar expression was etched on his face, and it remained there even after Kate turned in Blake’s embrace to tell him she would get their weapons and armor, and try to find volunteers to accompany them. Blake remained in the courtyard with Daniel and couldn’t begin to understand what was holding Daniel back.
“You’re his Childe,” he said, causing Daniel’s head to snap up. “If you were the one trapped there, and there was anything he could do to get you out, he would, and you know it.”
Even as he said the words, Blake realized how true they were—and how they applied to him as well. He had lashed out at Marc about it, but he wouldn’t do that anymore. He would use that anger as fuel to fight demons. And he would free his Sire.
Before that, though, there was one thing he needed to do.
He left Daniel to his own thoughts and strode back into the hotel, following the trail of Simon’s and Jen’s scents to the otherwise-empty dining hall. Jen was sitting on the edge of a table, her pants pulled down to her knees, exposing the tattoo on her leg. Blake slowed down, scratching absently at his own thigh as he watched Simon whip up a greenish paste in a small wooden bowl. Simon glanced back at him but only acknowledged Blake’s presence with a light nod and didn’t stop mixing his ingredients or whispering the spell under his breath. Blake had vague recollections of Simon doing a similar spell on him, a few months earlier.
He watched in silence as Simon spread the paste over Jen’s skin, obscuring the tattoo without fully covering it. A few more chanted words caused the paste to glow, and Jen shuddered. Simon wiped beads of sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and pulled back to turn to Blake.
“Would you like me to do it on you, too?” He gestured to Blake’s thigh. “It’s a little different from the spell I did on you, and I think it might be better.”
Blake shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“But you’re scratching it again,” Simon pointed out.
Blake looked down and made a conscious effort to stop. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just an old habit. You could remove the tattoo completely and I’d still do it.” He turned his attention to Jen and gestured to her leg, now covered again as she fastened her pants. “You’ll keep scratching, too, spell or no spell. You won’t leave the demons behind by hiding from them. I’ve learned that much.”
With a scoff, Jen pushed past him. “Maybe not, but I’ll sure try.”
“He believed in you.” Blake turned to follow her with his eyes. “He left his own Childe behind because you asked him to. And even after you betrayed him, he still let you out of that cell. He still believed you were worth a shot. Don’t you think he is?”
Jen had slowed down, although she didn’t look back. She paused, shook her head, then strode away.
When Blake climbed into the truck a few minutes later with Seneca in his hand and Kate at his side, twenty or so other fighters were waiting. Daniel was there. So was Jen.
Blake only wished the reinforcements could settle the growing apprehension in his stomach, like a black hole that threatened to swallow everything, including his hope and courage. He couldn’t falter now, though, not when his Sire’s life was at stake, maybe even lost already.
No breach had ever seemed as foreboding as this one. Blake took Kate’s hand and nodded. She nodded back and called out a, “Let’s go,” to the rest of the soldiers.
The two of them stepped through first—together.
Chapter 22
As they crossed the breach, Kate kept a close eye on Blake, or as close as she could when her stomach was lurching. It was night in the demon dimension, and with only the faint glow of the breach to provide light, she had some trouble gauging Blake’s expression. She wanted to ask him if he was all right, but she knew he would lie if he wasn’t, so what was the point?
The rest of the strike team came through behind them, with Simon close to the front. His face looked strained, although in a different way from the soldiers, all of whom seemed to feel sick like Kate did.
“The nausea will fade,” Simon said through gritted teeth. “And the glamour I’ve got over all of us will do the same soon. I can’t hold it much longer. Last time there were demons right ahead. Maybe we can take them by surprise and clear the way.”
Daniel gave quick orders and stood in the front as they advanced in a triangle formation. Blake was only two steps behind him and to the side. Kate soon didn’t have much time to worry about what was going on in his head anymore: the demons Simon had mentioned were right there, blocking the way forward. They were all armed and seemed restless, sniffing the air like they were searching for something. The glamour had to be still holding, but clearly they could tell something was up.
“Glamour’s about to crash down,” Simon warned, out of breath.
Daniel’s sword slashed at the closest demon; it fell in a gurgle of blood. Its companions roared in surprise and outrage, but before they could react any further, the rest of the squad rushed at them. The glamour must have come down at that point because a few demons managed to block the swords and axes that were swung at them, and the sounds of battle erupted all around Kate. She managed to kill her first opponent in one blow and immediately went to help Blake. They had fought side by side so many times in the past that it felt like falling back into the well-known steps of a favorite dance. Kate caught a glimpse of his face as they fought an unusually large demon; she could only read determination on his features. There wasn’t even any anger that she could see. Somehow, it made her feel better to know that he had his emotions under control.
It took only minutes for the squad to eliminate the group of demons. They suffered their first loss, and a couple of superficial wounds. While a medic tended to those, Kate stood beside Blake as he watched the road ahead of them.
“He’s there,” he murmured.
Kate wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. “Marc?” she asked quietly. “How do you… Oh. The bloodline? You can feel him?”
Blake nodded absently before tearing his eyes from the horizon and looking at her. “He’s alive,” he said simply.
&nb
sp; Kate gave him a brief but tight hug before turning to Simon. He knelt on the ground, a flashlight balanced on his knee as he filled small plastic bags with supplies from his magic stash. She had been about to ask whether to follow the road to the prison, but she found herself frowning down at him instead. “What are you doing? Do you think now’s the time to play with magic?”
He glanced up at her with an offended look. Before he could reply, Daniel was by Kate’s side.
“We’re ready,” he said curtly. “Which way, Simon?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Blake asked, a derisive laugh in his voice. He pointed to the road with his sword. “That way. Straight ahead.”
Daniel rolled his eyes, and Kate felt such a pang at how familiar this all seemed that she almost choked up. She only wished Marc had been there, but he would soon be with them again; she was sure of it.
* * * *
Blake led the way for the squad along the dirt road toward the prison. When Blake had first made this journey with his two captors, he had been coming from a different direction, and it had been full daytime. Still, everything seemed familiar, from how stale the air tasted in his lungs to the dusty road under his feet.
For a little while, he remained tense, expecting the memories to surge forward and take him over. However, they remained at the back of his mind, present but unthreatening—at least for now. It helped that he had sensed the bloodline as soon as he had stepped through the breach. It was a reassurance that Marc was still alive on the other end of that link; Blake hoped it would help Marc, too, when he realized they were coming for him. How much time had passed since he had been taken? It hadn’t been more than a couple of hours in the human world, but time passed much faster here. Had it been days? Weeks?
The thought caused Blake to speed up until Daniel hissed at him to slow down for the rest of them. Blake gritted his teeth and obeyed. Simon had warned them that another larger group of demons was guarding the entrance. Blake remembered passing that group, shoved forward by his guards while the rest of the demons laughed and talked to him in their harsh-sounding language. He was looking forward to walking through them again, this time with a sword to spill their blood.
Daniel had suggested that they approach this fight like they had the first, under the cloak of a short-timed glamour, but it soon became obvious that the demons knew they were coming. Fires lit up the night ahead of them, projecting the demons’ shadows onto the walls of the prison.
“All right,” Daniel called out, his voice steady and calm. “They’re waiting for us, and they outnumber us, but that’s okay. We’ve done this before. Simon, do you have any trick in your bag that might distract them a little?”
Simon muttered under his breath and rummaged inside his bag. He stopped to kneel on the ground and the rest of the squad stopped as well, forming a loose circle around him without ever turning their backs on the demons. The squad was only a hundred yards or so from the prison now, and they could hear the demons growling and rattling their weapons. Simon crushed a few herbs together before throwing a lit match in his mixing bowl. A flash of light enveloped the squad, ruining everyone’s night vision and raising complains from several soldiers.
“There,” Simon looked around with self-satisfaction.
Blake looked around as well and was startled to see three Kates standing near him, all identical, all wearing the same frown—then the same smile—as she figured out what Simon had done.
“I won’t be able to hold the illusion for long,” Simon warned. His voice was already strained. “Hurry up.”
Daniel gave the signal, and the squad spread out, their doppelgangers filling in the voids in between them so that they appeared to be a solid wall of fighters rather than less than two dozen. Blake caught Kate’s gaze and gave her a nod. He had her back, he said with that small gesture. She replied in kind, and he knew she’d be next to him the entire time.
The fight was brutal. The demons had not only an advantage in numbers, they were also on their own terrain. But they seemed unsettled, maybe taken aback that humans had come to fight them in their own world where they should have been safe. That gave each of Blake’s blows an extra ounce of strength and speed. There was something exhilarating about taking the fight to the enemy rather than waiting for an attack. Judging by how fiercely the fight around him was progressing, Blake wasn’t the only one to feel that way.
When the last demon fell, Kate was standing shoulder to shoulder with Blake. They looked around together. Five soldiers were on the ground, still as the grave. Three more, maybe four, were wounded to various degrees. Blake was thankful for all of their help, but he couldn’t do anything for them now. Marc was waiting.
As Blake started toward the prison entrance, Kate was, like always, right by him. Predictably, Daniel called for them to wait.
“There could be more demons inside. Let’s stay together.”
Blake didn’t bother to reply, but Kate glanced back without stopping.
“We’ll be fine,” she said. “You get the prisoners; we’ll find Marc.”
Finding Marc was only a matter of following the pull of the bloodline. Blake strode through corridor after corridor without slowing down, not even when, twice, they stumbled upon a demon. Blake killed one; Kate, the second. Finally Blake stopped in front of a door, identical to a dozen other doors he hadn’t looked at twice.
“Is he there?” Kate asked. She reached for the lock without waiting for his answer and pushed the door open, already calling out Marc’s name.
Blake remained on the threshold, frozen to the bones, looking in. From where he stood, he couldn’t see much: stone floor and walls, no window other than the narrow slits at the very top of the walls that let in the diffuse light during the day. He finally moved forward with slow steps, as if in a dream.
He tried not to let his memories resurface, but he had spent hours upon hours—entire weeks, even months—trying to devise a way to reach those slits. He had been sure that, if he could simply look out, he would be able to find relief from these four walls and the way they pressed on his mind, the way they made his skin itch like it was one size too small for his body. He would be able to breathe—and it didn’t matter that he didn’t need air anymore, that he wouldn’t collapse from lack of oxygen as he sometimes had when he had been human; the claustrophobia rendered him just as useless now as it had then. Only one person had ever managed to calm his body and mind, and that person was the same one who was keeping him in that cell.
He had never found a way to look out. The slits had always remained as far out of reach as freedom itself.
He wasn’t looking at those slits now, or at the straw on the floor, or the blood stains on the stones, or the steel manacles, so similar to the ones whose unyielding hold had left a phantom touch on his wrists. Instead, he was taking in the scents of the room and realizing that this pile of damp straw was where he had slept for so long. The terror of nightmares still clung to it. Those stains had been left by his blood, and those manacles were the very ones that had cut into his skin.
This wasn’t just any cell. It was his cell.
His hand tightened over Seneca’s hilt—he couldn’t have said whether in anger at everything that had happened or for reassurance that he had a weapon.
Someone said his name. He turned, and when he saw Kate, words started to rise to his lips. They had to get out of there. They had to run before their Master returned, before…
But their Master was right there, standing by Kate’s side, covered in blood—whose blood? Hers, again? Blake’s vision blurred, and he roared. He would have slashed with his sword if not for the fear that he might hurt Kate, too. Instead, he sheathed the sword and threw himself at his Master. He might die for this offense, but at least he would die fighting. Fighting for Kate, but also, mostly, fighting for his own freedom.
* * * *
The thirteen longest days of Marc’s life ended when Kate entered his cell, took one look around her, and dropped her sw
ord to throw herself into his arms. Stunned, Marc could only hold her to him, breathe in her scent, and hope that this wasn’t just a dream.
But no, it couldn’t be a dream. Blake had been pulling at the bloodline for close to an hour, his presence growing stronger as he grew nearer. Marc hadn’t imagined that.
“Are you hurt?” Kate asked, breathless, as she pulled away and took a good look at him. Her hand rose to touch the bruises on his face, stopping when Marc jerked back reflexively. “What happened?”
“I’m all right,” Marc replied, his voice rough from disuse. What had happened to him didn’t need to be shared. Besides, he figured that the cuts, bruises, and dried blood on his face and torso told enough of the story already. “Where is Blake?”
Before Kate could reply, Blake came through the door. His expression was blank, and when he looked at them, his pupils were huge, darkening his gaze. The next second, however, his eyes filled with a fiery glow. He slid his sword into its scabbard and yelled as he threw himself at Marc.
Startled, Marc only had time to push Kate away so that she wouldn’t get hurt. The next instant, Blake crashed into him and started to pummel him with his closed fists. Marc raised his hands to defend himself, but when he saw the wild look in Blake’s eyes, he froze.
He had seen that look before.
He had seen it in Riverton, when Simon had broken the spell on Blake’s mind. He had also seen it in this very cell, before he had broken Blake’s spirit.
It didn’t matter at that moment that Marc himself had never set foot in this cell before being taken prisoner. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been the one to break Blake. He remembered doing it, remembered every second of it. More than that, though, he had allowed Blake to be taken from him, had given up on finding a way to get him back. If Blake found relief in inflicting pain on him or killing him, Marc would let it happen.