by Cait Ashwood
Vex crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not keeping secrets from Dad if that’s what you want from me.”
“I never said Zad shouldn’t know about her. I said she shouldn’t know about him.”
Vex’s eyes glinted in the darkness. “I see.” She circled him slowly, sizing him up. “And how exactly do you think she’s going to ‘help’ us?”
I’ve really got to start thinking this shit through in advance. “I don’t know. If nothing else, she’d be good for a ransom or a bargaining chip. The third-gens have trouble healing and connecting with the Groves. An actual Lily could teach them, help them through that connection so they can be useful to us.”
“I hadn’t considered that they might actually be teachable.” Vex touched her forefinger to her pursed lips. “So, what’s the catch?”
“Her twin brother and an assassin are guarding her, and I’ve spent the bulk of the night running from their Trackers.”
His sister sniffed disapprovingly. “You’re weak.”
Stryker stared at her with dead eyes. “You try phasing around the world all night with two assholes on your tail.”
Vex waved her hand, dismissing the point. “So you want to go and bring her in. Today.”
He shrugged. “It’s best if we move quickly. I don’t know why they haven’t taken her home yet. They could at any moment.”
She squinted her eyes at him, analyzing him in that way she had. “I’ll get one of the energy powders Dad cooked up, then. Should we have a room ready for her before she arrives?”
Stryker thought about the passage he lived on. He’d set up a secondary crash pad that he wasn’t sure Vex knew about. He used it when he didn’t particularly want to be found. While he was sure Zad knew about it, his father seemed to respect the need for the place and left him alone. “I have a place she can stay. Isolated, but not actually hard to get to.”
Vex humphed under her breath. “Fine then. I’ll fetch the powder, then we’ll go. You are armed, yes?”
“What exactly do you take me for?”
She grinned sweetly at him. “Just had to check, brother dearest.” She practically skipped down the passage and out of sight.
Stryker leaned against the cave wall, tilting his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. At least I won’t have to worry about him thinking I’ve gone soft for a while, now.
Rowan stirred, perking up as a black shape slipped around the rear of the stables. Guess he’s ready to do this. At least one of us is. He’d been watching his sister for so long, it was going to be hard to figure out how to react to her. They were strangers to her. He could sense their connection, but would she? Nerves jumbled around in his gut like a hornet’s nest as he slid down the rickety ladder and landed on the ground floor. He slipped outside, Lily out of view for a moment.
“Where do you want to do this?”
Zeche glanced around as if he hadn’t already decided ages ago where he wanted this confrontation to happen. “There’s a little side alley where they have their supplies delivered. No one will go back there today.”
Rowan nodded; he knew the place. The question was, how were they going to get Lily there?
As if reading his mind, Zeche placed his forefinger against his lips in a shushing motion, then started off around to the pastures. Rowan waited in place, confused as hell. A few minutes later, Zeche’s plan became clear.
“Why are you following me? Who are you?” Panicked footsteps approached and Rowan hid in the shadows of a doorstep. She passed right by him without noticing, then panicked when she realized the passage dead-ended into the supply room. Zeche approached steadily down the alley, and she darted for the door to the small room.
Rowan stretched his arm to the side, blocking her passage and stepping out into the light.
Trapped, her eyes darted between the pair of them as she backed away, desperate for escape.
“We’re not here to hurt you, Lily.” Zeche stood with his hands out to his side, palms open in a placating gesture.
“I don’t believe you.” Her hands were clenched in fists, but she didn’t appear to be armed.
“Yeah, I’m not really big on roughing up girls, especially ones I’m related to.” Rowan leaned into the door frame as her eyes raked over his figure, searching for any resemblance.
“Stryker told me about you.” Her eyes flicked to Zeche. “You’re an assassin.” She spat out the accusation as if it alone was all the reason in the world not to trust them.
“Which means if I wanted you dead, girl, you would be.” Zeche flicked off an imaginary piece of lint from his black uniform, regarding her almost lazily.
She backed up until her back was brushing against the wall opposite the supply room. “You’re here to take me back to the Tower, aren’t you?” A tremble accented her words.
“That’s our orders.” Though I’d really like to shove those orders up Hound’s ass right about now. Zeche stared at him, and Rowan swore the assassin could see right through him.
“Your mother has lost one child already.” Zeche gestured to Rowan. “Don’t make her lose another.”
‘One is enough.’ Is that what she meant?
“She doesn’t care about me. She’s more worried about the loss of babies for her precious breeding project!” Lily shrieked at Zeche. Rowan winced, looking around for any bystanders. They were clear for the moment, but they wouldn’t be for long if she kept that up.
Zeche was apparently also getting tired of her bullshit. Or he was just plain tired. Either way, his face set in a stony grimace. “We can do this the easy way, where you come with us willingly, or the hard way, where we take you however we can get you there. Either way, Hound has ordered that you’re to return home.”
Lily scoffed. “Since when have you followed his orders on anything?”
“My, my, quite the confrontational group we have here. Stryker, you didn’t tell me they were so entertaining.”
Rowan whirled to find himself face-to-face with a small, curvy girl with long brown hair. She was armed to the teeth, as was the kid she’d called Stryker, who phased only to reappear at Lily’s side.
“You okay, Lily?” Stryker didn’t sound truly concerned, more annoyed. Rowan wasn’t sure which of them to track. Stryker was technically the more dangerous of the pair, but he was already within reach of Lily. We need Jasper.
“You came back.” Lily sounded dubious, even though he was right there.
Stryker glanced at the small woman, pausing before speaking. “I had a change of heart.”
If the kid felt she was dangerous, that decided Rowan’s foe for him. He turned to square up against the small girl. Zeche had the electromagnet, so this was probably for the best. But why did the kid watch his words around the girl? She was pint-sized, and honestly rather cute.
“You’d be the twin brother then, hmm?” She sauntered closer, suddenly seeming much older than she had a moment ago. “Not bad to look at, not at all.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Too bad I’ve no use for pure bloods.”
Rowan never even saw her hands move, but suddenly she had a pair of blades out and was advancing on him, her steel weaving a web before her that he could barely track. He pulled his blade, immediately on the defensive. Zeche had trained him on fighting foes with two blades, but Vex wasn’t following any of their predictable attack patterns. He reeled, off-balance as she advanced, just trying to keep her blades away from his skin.
“Stryker, please, don’t let her hurt him.” Lily’s voice was high, panicked.
“If they let you choose where you want to go, then we’ll have no reason to fight.”
Zeche snarled at them. “You’ve chosen the wrong folks to tangle with there, boy. Pity it’s a mistake you won’t have the chance to repeat.”
Lily’s squeal distracted Rowan. He turned his head quickly, thankful to see that it appeared Stryker had thrown her behind him, and the move had caught her off guard.
Agony ripped across his back as a blade b
it through his padded leather armor, scoring him nearly from shoulder to hip. He pitched forward and twisted, throwing his back against the ground and bringing his blade up to protect his front. She didn’t come in for the kill, though, and took her time to stalk back in.
Rowan pulled himself up to his feet, black stars floating in his vision and making it harder to track her movements. He thrust his gut forward and lowered his shoulders to reduce the pain.
The girl’s eyes flicked toward Stryker and Zeche, but Rowan had too much going on to attempt to check on his master’s fight. I can’t let her hit me again. His back burned from the cut, but as she continued to circle him, his muscles slowly began twitching of their own accord. The blade didn’t go that deep, I don’t understand.
“It’s a neurotoxin, darling. Makes your muscles all jumpy.”
Zeche hadn’t used that word to describe the poison, but Rowan was familiar with the effects. He wouldn’t have much time before he was completely helpless. He threw himself at her, limiting the reach of his swings to accommodate his torn back.
The girl laughed as she fended off his attacks, at one point even putting one blade behind her back and fighting him off with what he guessed was her non-dominant hand.
“Zeche. Get to Lily.” He was fading fast and had maybe one good phase in him before he was going to be out. The tempo of Zeche’s blades changed and the assassin worked his way toward the girl. She was watching the fighting with a pale, wide-eyed expression. Zeche forced Stryker’s blades high and to the side.
“Now!” Zeche yelled the word, throwing himself into a roll and grasping for Lily. Rowan didn’t wait to see if he was successful; there were currently three copies of the small girl standing in front of him. He chose the middle version of Zeche, made contact, and phased.
He briefly saw the stone of the Tower before the darkness swam up to consume him.
Chapter Eighteen
Audrey stared at the little black and white puppy as it tugged on her covers for all it was worth. The most adorable growling sound emanated from its throat, but it was just a matter of time before--
The puppy went tumbling backward, falling in a crumpled heap with its legs splayed out in all directions. Audrey wanted to laugh and should have, by all rights. All she got was the twitch of a muscle in her face and a heavy sigh. The puppy was one of Mia’s grand-pups, though if her guess was any good, it would be quite a bit smaller than its Great Dane grandmother. Audrey had owned Mia since she was a puppy, back in her native time. She’d left the dog in Lindsey’s care after discovering what she was, and by the time she was in a position to take her back, she’d bonded with Lindsey too well to remove her. Having a piece of her after all these years seemed almost magical.
She still hadn’t named the pup, but having something that needed taking care of had been the only thing to get her up and moving. She was adorable, constantly getting into trouble, but had the sweetest personality and loved to cuddle. While the dog was small, it was doing something to fill in the empty side of the bed where Hound usually slept.
As if sensing the turn of her emotions, the pup bounded over and sat at her feet, tilting its head and whining softly. It stayed seated for all of a second before jumping, pawing at her legs.
“There, there, it’s okay.” Audrey picked up the puppy and promptly had her face slathered in puppy kisses. While laughing was still beyond her, she at least managed a humored snort. “At least Hound is gone for a reason right now.” She let the puppy down on the bed and wandered toward the window. The puppy stayed put for as long as it took her to get up the courage to jump off on her own, then Audrey’s ankles were getting nibbled on.
She’s out there, somewhere. This is the second time they’ve called for Hound, and he took Jasper this time. They’re onto something, I just know it. The thought that her daughter might soon be home, combined with the demands of the pup, was slowly reviving her. Brana didn’t sit with her all day anymore, mainly just in the mornings and at dinner time. It was now, right before lunch, that she was the loneliest.
A commotion down in the yard caught her attention. She couldn’t quite see from this angle, being a bit too far past the curve of the tower to have a clear view of the action, but she could hear the alarmed shouts from the guards.
“He’s injured--call the medics!”
“Who the hell is he?” Another voice joined the chaos.
“Everyone get out of my way and let me at the medical stores.”
The last was a voice she’d know anywhere, a voice that had once soothed her but now only haunted her nightmares. Zeche. And if he’d come here, willingly, with a wounded man, then that meant...
“Rowan.” No, that couldn’t be right. But what if it were?
The pup was forgotten as she threw open the doors to her chambers, feet scarcely touching the stairs as she sprinted down them. She hit the landing on the ground floor just as they were carrying him in, a large, strapping lad with a blond flop of hair on his head that passed her by on the way to the infirmary. He was laid out on a stretcher, a guard at his head and foot. Another woman hurried by, forcibly holding him down. He seemed to be convulsing and foam flew from his mouth.
My son. Audrey followed them in a death-like haze. She was afraid to breathe but more terrified of getting in the way of the people working to save him. Jars rattled from the storeroom and Zeche emerged, arms full of supplies with another man following him. She stood in the doorway, a hand at her throat, scarcely breathing as people got him on a bed, lying him face down. It took four people to keep him anchored there. They stripped his armor and clothing, revealing a nasty gash across his back. Audrey nearly lost her stomach, but she couldn’t look away.
She knew she should be panicking, should be losing her ever-loving mind at the sight of her son. Zeche, someone she thought of as unshakable, was clearly frantic as he ground out a paste. Medics had reached them and were even now preparing some sort of brew. Audrey knew everything she should be feeling, but none of it actually touched her.
There’s so much blood. They seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time flushing the wound. They applied Zeche’s paste and the white cream slowly began to turn a few shades darker, eventually taking on a purplish hue. Then they were back to the flushing, and more paste. One of the half-breeds was called in, and she seemed to be able to accelerate the cycle. The process repeated until the paste no longer changed, and then came the needles. Under normal circumstances, there was no way Audrey could have made herself watch, likely not even for Hound. But when it came to Rowan, the son she’d lost so long ago, she found that she couldn’t leave him, no matter the circumstances.
Her mind was curiously empty as the finishing touches were put on his back and medics started cleaning up the work site. She had managed to draw two conclusions, one based on the other. The blade that cut him carried some kind of toxin, and that toxin is related to the taint. She also hadn’t missed the fact that neither Hound nor Jasper had returned, and that there was still no sign of Lily. All of that seemed to pale in comparison to her boy, no longer a babe, lying stretched out on a table.
Zeche finally seemed to notice her. He approached hesitantly, with many glances at Rowan on his way over.
“We’ve... we’ve done all we can for now.” Zeche paused, eyes tight. “It’s up to him, now.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and left the room.
Audrey didn’t say a word as the rest of the team filed out one by one. Eventually, she was alone in the room with her son, except for one remarkably spoiled black and white puppy that somehow knew not to get into things down here.
The pup broke the ice first, low-crawling toward Rowan. One arm hung limply off the cot, nearly down to the floor. The pup approached slowly, sniffing the hand delicately at first. When nothing happened, she licked the hand, then nudged it. She still got no response from Rowan. She turned, looking over her shoulder in the way young things have, and whined at Audrey. Her meaning was clear: fix it.
I don’t think I can fix this, pup. Nonetheless, she found herself moving toward one of the stools and dragging it over to his bedside. He was still lying face down, but that hardly mattered to Audrey. She picked up his hand in hers, not sure if she was alarmed or relieved that it was cool to the touch. Careful not to move him in any way that would stress his back, she folded his arm into a more natural position, with his hand wrapped in both of hers and resting on her knee.
Such big hands. They were bigger than her own and callused from sword work. She explored this small part of him, marveling at the faint scattering of freckles along his forearm that spread up over his shoulders. They were likely only visible because he was deathly pale, but they reminded her of Lily. His nails were short but not bitten, instead seeming neatly groomed. His hands were dirty though, like he hadn’t had a bath in a while. The medics had already stripped him down to his underthings, so Audrey decided to do something she hadn’t done in nearly sixteen years. She was going to bathe her son.
She warmed the water in the kettle over the fire, then cut it with fresh, cool water from the well. When she was satisfied that she’d gotten the temperature perfect, she wet a cloth and vigorously scrubbed soap onto it in the bucket. She rinsed it out a few times to ensure it wouldn’t be too soapy and finally hesitated, warm rag in hand. Would he begrudge her this motherly indulgence? Claim he was too old for this sort of thing and resent her for her intrusion?
She shook her head. It won’t matter if he doesn’t wake.
She cleaned his hand first, paying special attention to the dirt encrusted under his fingernails. Slowly, she worked her way up his arm to his shoulder. It’s too quiet, like death is waiting. She couldn’t talk to him, as she wouldn’t have the first clue of what to say. But she could sing.