by Ivy Asher
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask Becket, my voice filled with gravel and my limbs growing heavier by the second.
“I was taken,” Becket croaks out before Adriel squeezes tighter and his ability to talk is silenced.
“You really should be more careful with your Shields, Vinna. When you let them wander off alone like this one was, you’re just begging to have them taken,” Adriel teases, and I once again wish I had the energy and ability to rip his fucking head off right now. A small amount of relief fills me at knowing Becket didn’t show up here because he was working with Adriel after all, but it’s quickly squashed under the reality that Adriel just put another obstacle in my path to turning him into ash.
My legs buckle, unable to hold me up anymore, and my knees slam to the ground as fatigue fights to shut me down. “Shield?” I manage to ask, not able to help my confusion from slipping out as I replay Adriel’s words in my mind. He looks a little shocked by my question, and he tilts his head and studies me for a beat.
“You don’t know what he is to you?” he clarifies.
“This shit didn’t come with an instruction manual,” I snark, and I try to fight my vision as it starts to tunnel.
“I have one, pet,” he states casually. “Would you like to read it?”
I stare at Adriel’s red-gold eyes, and just when I think I can’t find anything more to hate about him, he shows me something new. I stay quiet, mostly because I’m pretty sure I’m going to black out at any moment, and I’m trying to conserve my energy.
“Shields can be called as guards or protectors. You bond with them in a unique way, bestowing on them the markings of your choosing, and they live to protect you. If I recall correctly, there’s about a page of information on them in the book I have. I’ll let you read it, pet, if you’re good,” Adriel chuckles at his taunt, but I’m no longer paying attention to him.
My brain is slow, and it’s like I’m wading through jello as I try to think back to the night Enoch and the others showed up to my house with runes. I work to recall which runes Becket said he had. I think it was my maces, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.
“So I can create bodyguards by marking them with a weapon?” I ask Adriel like I’m confused by the concept, but my eyes are locked on Becket’s.
I hope he’s catching what I’m trying to throw his way, but I realize even if he does, I’m not sure if he’ll be able to do anything about it. He hasn’t been training with us. He probably has no idea how to tap into whatever I did to him. I blink, the movement slow, and I tilt to the side, not able to keep my exhaustion at bay a minute longer. My body shuts down against my will, but I swear the last thing I see is Becket shoving the tip of an arrow through Adriel’s neck before my head slams against the black, shiny stone floor.
“Vinna…” a distant voice calls me, and I groan against the intrusion into my peaceful sleep.
“Vinna, can you hear me?” Valen asks again, and I turn toward the sound of it. I grunt in disappointment when I roll over and he’s not right there to cuddle with.
“I miss you,” I tell him sleepily, and I hear him release a relieved sigh.
“We miss you! Tell me you’re ready for us to come get you,” he pleads, and I groan against the ache I’m starting to feel in my body as I drift further away from dreams and sleep and move closer to consciousness.
“Adriel killed Keegan,” I confess to Valen, and I can sense the shock and subsequent sorrow that flashes through Valen, even though he doesn’t immediately say anything.
“How’s Lachlan?” he asks, a hitch in his voice and worry bleeding out of every syllable.
“Shattered,” I tell him resolutely. My chest aches with sadness, and I try to bat away images of Keegan bleeding to death in Lachlan’s arms as they rise to the surface of my mind.
“Fuck,” Valen laments, and I realize I just accidentally shared the image with him. “Shit! Valen I think Siah is still with us—,” I start, but he interrupts me.
“We’re coming, Vinna. Enough is enough.”
“I don’t even know where I am, Valen. We’re underground somewhere, but I couldn’t tell you where.”
“When you wake all the way up, activate your runes on your ring finger, the ones that signal us. We’ll compare it to the tracker we had on the car, and then we’ll get into position around that area. The next time you’re with Adriel, activate those runes again, and we’ll pinpoint where you and he are more specifically and attack. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yeah, if I don’t keep those runes activated for too long, I should be able to manage the pain.”
“Okay, we’re going to start heading your way now, so just hang in there. This will all be over soon.”
“I couldn’t stop him,” I confess, and sorrow bleeds out of me with the admission. “You guys were right. We should have never split up. I thought I could do it alone…” A sob cuts me off.
“I love you, Vinna. We love you. We’re coming for you, and then we’ll end him together.”
Relief floods me and helps drown out the throbbing ache that’s hammering my insides. I start to become more aware of my surroundings, and Valen’s voice gets further away.
“I’m waking up,” I warn him, and a soft echo of, “We love you, we’ll be there soon,” wraps around me before it disappears.
I open my eyes slowly and look around. I’m in a cell, but I can immediately tell it’s not the same one I was in with Lachlan. That cell had stone walls that were darker, but the stone in this cell is tanner and more porous. I test my muscles by trying to sit up, but it hurts and takes too much effort, so I drop back to the cool rock floor.
“Your leech friend told me to give you this as soon as you woke up,” a voice sounds behind me. The distinct pang of metal on rock rings out to my right, and with way too much effort, I turn my head to find a metal canteen. I know what’s in there, and I’m painfully aware of how badly I need it, but fuck I hurt. I stare at the silver container and realize, even if I can manage to grab it, which is doubtful since I’m pretty sure I just spent all the energy I have turning my head, I definitely don’t have the strength to lift it to my mouth.
I close my eyes and breathe through the feeling of helplessness that rises inside of me. I’m getting really fucking tired of feeling this way. I grab onto Valen’s promise that they’ll be here soon and lick my dry lips.
“I need help,” I tell Becket, who’s sitting somewhere behind where I’m lying. He doesn’t say anything or move toward me. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t have to, but I can barely move my finger, let alone drink that,” I grudgingly admit. I wait in the silence that overtakes the cell, and just when I think he’s going to leave me here to struggle on my own, Becket’s hand reaches out and picks up the canteen from the ground.
He scoots closer to me, and the next thing I know, his hands are under my arms, and he’s pulling me into a somewhat upright position. Becket’s legs are sprawled out on either side of my body, and my back is supported by his stomach and chest. He unscrews the top of the canteen and brings it to my lips. I empty the contents quickly, greedily swallowing every last drop of blood, and wait for it to heal all the damage I did in my failed attempt at killing Adriel.
The blood immediately starts to work, and I’m able to tilt my head to the side and look up at Becket. I’m shocked when a very bruised and battered face stares down at me, and I suddenly feel like a selfish bitch for drinking the whole canteen without even offering a sip. “Sorry, I should have saved some for you from the look of it,” I tell him, nodding my head at the canteen that he’s set on the ground.
“I’d have to be hurt a hell of a lot worse than this before you’d catch me chugging down blood like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted,” he tells me, the disgust and judgement in his tone clear.
“Noted,” I tell him as I push off his chest and move away from him as fast as my tired muscles can take me. The blood continues to move through me, repairing and fortify
ing my body, and I stretch out and take stock of any injuries. “So I take it, by the state of your face, that I didn’t simply imagine you stabbing Adriel through the throat with an arrow?”
Becket releases a humorless snort, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile that doesn’t reach the one eye that’s not swollen shut. “Some good it did. He didn’t die, and his guards were on me before I could do anything else. I got to watch that piece of shit get thrown across the room over and over again when he kept trying to bite you so he could heal. It took some of the sting out of the beating I was receiving,” Becket chuckles and then winces when the movement pulls at his split upper lip.
I mentally high-five my magic for continuing to protect me even though I was unconscious. I smile at the thought of Adriel getting thrown into a wall over and over again. “Bet that pissed him off.”
“Oh yeah, he finally gave up when he realized he wasn’t going to get so much as a hint of a fang in your pinky finger and then turned on me.” I tense at his revelation and start searching his exposed skin for bite marks. “But guess which runes you marked me with?” he asks, and his brown eyes light up with amusement.
“You have fucking shields,” I recall with a chuckle, and he nods his head yes.
“I got to throw him into the wall five more times before he was carried out of the room, raging and covered in blood. Too bad it’s so fucking hard for them bleed to death,” he grumbles, and I grunt in agreement.
“Learned that shit the hard way my first night here,” I confess. I lean against the wall and start to work the tangles out of my hair with my fingers.
Silence seeps back into the cell, and it’s like Becket just remembered that he hates me and shouldn’t be laughing about getting the best of Adriel.
“I didn’t know if you would be able to use your runes,” I admit, fully expecting him to ignore the statement now that he’s once again classified me as the enemy.
“Elder Cleary practically forced me to start trying to use them. I’m shit with the bow and arrows, and the mace seems a bit useless. You need to update your arsenal. Bring those magical weapons into this century. No one uses a mace anymore,” he grumps, and I chuckle.
“I just killed a bear shifter with one,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Of course you did,” he deadpans.
“It’s a good option when you need to do damage and work out some aggression at the same time,” I offer, and he just shrugs and shakes his head.
“Would you like me to try and heal you?” I ask, gesturing with my hand at the eye that’s black and swollen shut.
“I thought you couldn’t with that thing around your neck?”
“It doesn’t stop me from using magic; it just makes it fucking excruciating.”
“You could barely move five minutes ago, and now you want to hurt yourself even more to heal a couple bruises?”
“A couple bruises?” I challenge. “Bruh, you look like one big fucking bruise.”
He smiles like he can’t help himself and then works to put his scowl back in place.
“You’d be doing me a favor really,” I throw out casually. “I need to learn to push through the pain and still function, because who the fuck knows when this collar is coming off. Plus I’ve had my daily dose of delicious blood today, so I’m good to go,” I snark. “No pressure or anything, though. We only have a psychotic lamia we have to kill and his nest we have to battle, but if you can do your shit impression of Robin Hood with one eye and all the other injuries you have, be my guest.”
Becket rolls his eye at me again but doesn’t say anything. The silence grows awkward, and it presses in against me, demanding I say something, but what the fuck can I say? Hey, can we just move past that whole I killed your father thing? Or maybe I should go with a more casual so you’re talking to Elder Cleary; does that mean you believe your dad kidnapped and was going to rape me? I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened and that we don’t have some fucked up history between us, but given the alternative, it’s probably the best plan of action while we’re in this cell.
I braid my hair quickly in hopes that it will help keep it from ratting up again, and I rip off an already tattered piece of the red sweater I’m wearing, which will need to be burned if I ever get out of this place. I don’t look too closely at the darker stains that mar the once soft fabric, as I don’t need a trip down the memory lane of horror that this place has now stamped in my mind. I tie off the braid and lean back against the tan stone wall, Becket watching me the whole time.
“Fine,” he finally relents. I simply nod my head and move to kneel near him. “This doesn’t change anything between us,” he warns as I push up his shirt and take in the deep purple and black bruises on his side and stomach.
“Fair enough,” I concede and place my hands over his darkest bruises. I pull my gaze from his ribs and look into his deep brown eyes. “Apologies in advance for the screaming,” I tell him, and with that, I call on my Healing magic and shove as much as I can into Becket before I pass out again.
23
Chips of stone explode from the wall, and I turn my face to protect my eyes from the projectiles.
“Perfect hit,” I cheer, and Becket swings his arm back and then forward to land another one.
The spikes of the mace dig into the stone wall, and Becket yanks hard with a grunt to dislodge them.
“When that happens, instead of spending time trying to free the spikes from whatever they’re imbedded in, just release the magic. The mace will automatically disappear, and you can call on it again. It will flash back to you, and you’ll have the upper hand again,” I instruct.
Becket lets go of the handle of the mace that’s still stuck in the wall and does exactly what I just told him to do. The handle of a new mace pops into place in his palm, and Becket stares down at it with a smile that calls to my own.
“Not such a shitty outdated weapon after all?” I tease, and Becket shakes his head.
“Outdated for sure, but there is a certain level of kickass warrior you can’t help but feel when you use it,” Becket admits, and this time I do crack a grin.
“It does have a certain je ne sais quoi, doesn’t it?” I admit as I push myself up from the ground and stand up. I steady myself on the wall and wait for the dizziness to subside before stepping toward the middle of the cell. “My turn,” I announce.
“You just woke up an hour ago. I think you should sit this one out,” he advises, his eyes filled with concern as I move slowly into a defensive position in front of him.
“No holding back this time,” I warn him. “No one else out there is going to pull their punches, so I can’t afford for you to do it either.”
“You’ve passed out three times already. I could fucking blow on you too hard at this point and you’d probably fall over. I’m not pulling punches so much as refusing to beat on a defenseless, stubborn idiot. Seriously, sit down. You can help me with my form some more; my shots are still drifting just slightly to the right.”
“Stop babying me,” I growl, and Becket laughs.
“First of all, you sound like a grumpy kitten when you do that, and second of all, we’ve been doing this for hours. You need a break. What if Adriel comes to get us right now? How are you going to hold your own if you get any weaker?”
“I’ll show you grumpy kitten…scratch your fucking eyes out, and then we’ll see what’s what,” I mumble as I move to sit back down.
Metal clangs outside of the cell, and it’s as if Becket just spoke our retrieval into existence. Footsteps sound on the other side of our door, and it’s unlocked and pushed open. Becket and I tense while the hinges of the heavy metal door squeal in protest. Siah steps into the cell, and his eyebrows immediately furrow with confusion as he takes in the state of the space. Nicks and gouges decorate the wall from where Becket’s been working on his mace skills. Slivers of rock litter the floor, and Becket and I are both covered in a thin layer of dust.
Siah runs
his gaze over me and lets out an exasperated huff. “Why do you look like you’re on the verge of passing out?” he queries.
Becket snorts. “Because she is.”
Siah looks around the room for the canteen, and his gaze narrows when he finds it in the corner. We used it as target practice, and it’s been beat to shit by Becket’s arrows and is now sporting several holes.
“Did you not drink it?” Siah asks, his ice-blue eyes moving from the swiss cheese looking canteen to mine.
“I drank it. I’ve just been doing some training,” I offer with a shrug that takes entirely too much effort for me to complete.
Siah runs his hands through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t bring anymore. I didn’t think she’d need it,” he speaks to someone behind him.
I catch a flash of golden hair before Siah moves further into the cell to make way for Sorik. Relief swims through me when he walks into the room, but I quickly dowse it in wariness and mistrust.
“Did you attack my Chosen?” I accuse, and Sorik looks offended by the question.
“Of course not, that’s just where we told Adriel I would be to cover what I was really doing,” he tells me matter-of-factly as he takes me in. “We’re not going to get very far with her like this. You’ll have to feed her directly,” Sorik tells Siah, and his features are apologetic.
Siah hesitates for a second and then rolls up the sleeve of his navy blue sweater. He walks over to me and crouches down in front of where I’ve wedged myself in the corner. His pale blue eyes soften when they meet mine, and then a red sheen takes over his irises, and his left hand elongates with claws. His right arm is stretched out to me, and he moves to slash at his wrist.