Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars

by Shannon K. Butcher

  The poison. It was gone, along with the burning, numbing effects.

  There was no time for words, but he let his thanks slide into her, along with the next pulsing glow of energy she was pulling from him.

  She hadn’t stopped slinging magic around since combat had broken out. He didn’t know how much more she could do, but it was already more than he’d ever expected for such a short burst of time.

  Cain was holding his own, keeping the demons off both of them, herding them toward the flames consuming the hulk they’d taken down.

  Iain ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. The hilt of his sword protruded from the burning demon, and he made a quick grab to recover it. His shirt smoked, but none of the heat met his skin, so he shoved his way up to Cain’s side, cutting a path through the few remaining demons scurrying about.

  When the last one had fallen, he turned to find Jackie. She was slumped against a wall, breathing hard. A bright, pink flush covered her cheeks, and her bloodshot eyes glowed with a sense of accomplishment.

  “Autumn,” she panted. “Over there.”

  Iain wasn’t letting her get more than a few steps away, so he wrapped his arm around her waist, taking her weight, and urged her forward.

  Smoke wafted through the room, obscuring their vision. Jackie waved her hand, and the smoke parted from their path. Lying on the floor, on the other side of the bars, unmoving, was a young, scrawny girl.

  “Autumn?” said Jackie, as if she found it hard to believe.

  The metal bars were rusty, but not flimsy. Each one went into the surrounding stone at top and bottom. Iain grabbed one to test it and found it sturdy.

  He was strong, but there was no way he was breaking those without some tools.

  “I’ll do it,” said Jackie, weaving on her feet.

  “Just unlock it,” said Cain. “Save your strength to cover our exit.”

  She nodded and put her hand on the lock. Her eyes closed for a moment, and then he heard a faint metallic squeak. The door slipped open a scant inch.

  “I’ll get her,” said Cain.

  Iain turned to watch their backs, peering through the thick smoke. Smoldering demons lay scattered across the floor. The big one still twitched occasionally, its skin blistered and cracking.

  Jackie’s jolt of panic was his first sign that something was wrong. His head spun around to find the threat, his sword rising to destroy it.

  Before, all that had been on the other side of the bars was a rock wall, but that had changed. Whatever illusion or veil had covered what really stood there, it was gone now, revealing a larger room stuffed full of eerily human guards. Each one was armed with a sword, and there were at least thirty of them, maybe more.

  Standing in front of them, with his long, bony fingers wrapped around the throat of the little girl, dangling her unconscious body off the ground, stood another demon. He radiated power. Not a single creature behind him twitched, as if they wouldn’t dare do anything without his permission.

  He was so human looking that it took Iain a moment to figure out that he was Synestryn. The faint green glow to his eyes and the black blood pulsing beneath his pale skin gave him away.

  “Murak,” said Jackie, her hatred for the demon coming through both her tone and their link. Pulsing waves of anger spilled out of her, splashing against him, rousing the monster inside.

  It wanted to kill this creature for her. It wanted to mount its head on a plaque and offer it at her feet as a tribute.

  Iain tightened his control and shoved the desires of his beast aside.

  “You’re looking well,” said Murak, his eyes lingering on her throat.

  Cain shifted forward. Murak tightened his grip until Autumn’s face began to darken with lack of oxygen. “I wouldn’t do that. Not if you want the girl to keep breathing.”

  “What do you want?” asked Jackie.

  “To bathe in your blood. For starters.”

  “Fine. Take me,” said Jackie. “Let the girl go.”

  Iain growled.

  Cain said, “Like hell.”

  Murak grinned and his gaze caught Iain’s. “Judging by your bare throat, you’re her power source, correct?”

  Iain said nothing.

  Murak continued to stare at Iain as a grin widened his mouth, displaying sharp teeth. “I’ll take you in exchange for the girl.”

  “Done,” whispered Iain at the same time Jackie screamed in denial.

  “Drop the blade. Come here.”

  Leave. Take the girl and run, Iain told her silently.

  He felt her resistance, but even as it formed, it crumbled. She knew his time was up. This was as good a way as any for him to go.

  Iain stepped past Jackie and through the cage door.

  Murak tossed Autumn at Cain, who caught her before she hit the ground.

  “Go now, before I change my mind,” ordered Murak.

  Cain backed out, never taking his eyes off the demon. Tears slid down Jackie’s cheeks, and she bit her lips as if trying to contain a sob.

  Murak pulled a foot-long dagger from his belt and shoved it into Iain’s chest. The strike was so fast he barely had time to realize what had happened before pain bloomed inside of him, shoving out all rational thought.

  The blade ripped out of his body, and blood cascaded down his naked chest.

  Jackie screamed in horror. He tried to tell her it was okay, but he couldn’t gather his concentration enough to form words or thought. And even if he could, all breath had left his body, rendering him mute.

  “Run, Jackie,” warned Cain in a tone that screamed he knew what was coming next.

  Iain fell to his knees, landing there before he recognized that he’d started to collapse. Blood seeped from his wound, wetting the waistband of his jeans. Strangely, he wasn’t upset. He was freeing Jackie. Cain would protect her now.

  He’d always wondered how it was going to end for him. At least now he knew his life had saved that of a little girl. It was a good trade.

  Murak kicked Iain the rest of the way to the ground. There was a smile in his voice as he ordered his troops. “Kill the man. Bring the women to me.”

  Chapter 29

  Beth woke up from her bleak dreams suddenly. Her heart fluttered in her bony chest, and a deep tingle spread out through her arms and legs. She kept her breathing quiet out of habit. The less attention she drew, the better.

  An unfamiliar noise echoed down the stone wall to the small cell where she was kept. Voices. Words. Not the gurgle of demons. A woman’s voice.

  Someone was here.

  Excitement trilled through her. What if whoever was out there could save her? It might just be another unfortunate soul being sentenced to this living hell, but she had to try.

  Beth yelled, “Here! I’m here.”

  She strained against the bars, pressing her ear as far through the space between them as she could. Whoever was there, their voices faded, growing more distant.

  They were leaving.

  Your blood is the key….

  Her blood was her enemy. Every time she bled, the demons would come, hungry for a taste. The little ones would crawl through the bars, nipping at her until one of the bigger ones would come and chase them away.

  Your blood is the key….

  It was her curse. The demons could all smell it—even the smallest cuts would draw them.

  She pounded against the bars in frustration, yelling for those people to come save her.

  Their voices were gone now. She could no longer detect even the faintest echo of them any longer.

  Your blood is the key….

  She didn’t know what that meant. All she knew was that if she bled, the demons would come.

  Maybe that’s what these people were after. Maybe if she drew the demons to her, they’d come, too.

  What did she have to lose? She wasn’t going to last much longer in here. If they didn’t kill her now, delivering the demon baby inside of her would. Her life was down to a few
months at most. This was the best chance of escape she’d had since that fence had loomed high overhead, taunting her with freedom.

  Beth brought her wrist to her mouth and dug her teeth into her skin. The grit and dirt coated her teeth, and the metallic tang of blood smeared over her tongue. She spat the muddy, bloody spit onto the ground and blew a breath across the seeping wound.

  Fear curled around her, making her shiver. If this didn’t work, if the little demons came fast, she had just become food.

  Jackie stood in stunned shock as Iain fell to the ground. Rage and horror mixed together within her, swirling in a thick, black fog she couldn’t see through. Her body was frozen, her voice locked in her chest. Pain sliced through her where the dagger had hit Iain as if it had struck her as well.

  Her legs were weak, and the need to scream bubbled from deep within as she felt Iain fading from the world.

  Cain tossed Autumn’s limp body over his left shoulder. “Work fast, Jackie,” he said. “Once he’s gone, you’ll have no power.”

  Power? That’s what he was worried about? She didn’t give a fuck about the power. She wanted Iain. Forever.

  But that had been stolen from her, just like her former life. Everything she cared about, everything she’d ever wanted for herself, had been taken from her and burned to ashes at her feet.

  It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. The pain and injustice that these demons had heaped on her was not something she’d earned. How dare they cause her more pain? How dare they even touch a man like Iain—one who’d devoted his entire life to helping others?

  Jackie let the rage have her. She threw herself into the chaotic mass, letting it fill every cell until she felt like she would explode with the pressure. A high, ragged scream broke free of her mouth, vibrating her whole body with the force of it. The air shimmered, throbbing with her anger, seething in barely visible waves as it stretched out toward the armed, humanlike demons charging toward them.

  The first three rows of soldiers clutched their heads, clenching and bowing over in agony. Blood leaked from their noses and ears as her scream stretched out, filling the cavern. Several demons fell. Those behind them trampled them under dirty feet.

  Cain grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the charging horde.

  She looked at Iain. He’d crawled aside to the base of a wall, and was struggling to regain his feet. One of the soldiers lifted a crooked, rusty sword to strike at him, but instead hit the flickering blue light of her shield.

  She extended the protective wall across the barred door, preventing any of the soldiers from getting through.

  “What are you doing?” asked Cain. “We have to run.”

  “I’m not leaving without him.” She couldn’t. Even if all she carried out was his body, she couldn’t leave him here as food for demons.

  He tugged on her arm, making her stumble. “I’m not letting you die.”

  “Then put the girl down and lift your fucking sword. I’m doing this, with or without you.”

  She didn’t wait for Cain to agree or even respond. She jerked her arm from his grasp and sucked in as much of Iain’s power as she could stand.

  Fire. It poured out of her, roaring from her body in a golden cone of heat and light. It splashed through the bars, making them glow red. More solders fell, turning to ash before their screams had finished echoing off the cave walls. The stench was overpowering, but she didn’t dare try to juggle anything beyond fire and shielding Iain from it.

  The flow of energy coming from Iain stuttered, and the fire simply stopped lurching from her body. She fell to her knees, shocked at the sudden loss of what she’d become so used to having. The emptiness rang through her, leaving her feeling scraped hollow, brittle, and weak.

  Jackie reached up, expecting her throat to be bare of the luceria, but it was still there, hot and trembling with the recent barrage of power.

  There were still at least two dozen guards left standing, and a horde of smaller demons. They crawled over the charred corpses of their kind, scrambling to reach the bars. Beyond them, she saw Murak standing watch, his arms crossed over his chest, a grin on his ugly face as if he was enjoying the show.

  Jackie was going to kill him. He’d hurt Iain, and she was going to see to it that he paid for that, even if it cost her her life.

  The first soldier busted the metal door wide and leaped through it. Another followed behind, and another.

  She reached for Iain’s power, but all that was left was a weak, pitiful trickle.

  He was dying, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  * * *

  The scent of the pregnant woman’s blood slid into Ronan’s nose, intoxicating him. She was powerful, even in her weakened state. And she was close.

  He turned around, thumping Drake on the shoulder so he’d follow along behind. “This way.”

  The stone walls flew past him as he rushed forward, letting his nose lead the way. The stench of Synestryn grew heavier, sickening him. He didn’t dare try to block it out for fear of losing the woman’s trail.

  Ronan spun around a corner and nearly ran headlong into a writhing pack of demons. They were all shapes and sizes, snarling and biting at one another as they piled high, trying to get to something he couldn’t see.

  The woman. There were bars here. She had to be on the other side.

  “Back up,” ordered Drake, pulling Ronan back by his arm.

  A wave of flames washed out from Helen’s hand, crashing against the demon pile. Demons hissed and gurgled as they ignited, scurrying away in an effort to douse the fire.

  “There’s a woman behind them!” Ronan shouted so that Helen wouldn’t kill her.

  Immediately, the flames backed off. The smaller demons curled up into balls of ash and cinder. The larger ones turned toward the threat and charged. Two of the biggest ones hadn’t even bothered to stop and put out the fires consuming their fur. They simply charged in, teeth bared and ready for blood.

  Ronan slipped aside, out of the path of the closest one. His thin blade slashed down, slicing through the beast’s tendons, rendering one of its legs useless.

  “Get the woman,” shouted Drake. “We’ll hold them off.”

  Ronan wasn’t a trusting man, but when it came to combat, he’d grown used to putting his life in the hands of the Theronai. Outside of combat, things were much, much different, but for now, he let trust reign and did as Drake said.

  The bars were about ten feet tall, lodged deeply into both the rocky floor and ceiling. It was a standard setup for Synestryn captives, and one he’d seen used far too often for his liking.

  Ronan inched his way around the smoldering pile of demons and kicked some aside so he could peer into the cage.

  The woman was there, dirty and shivering. Her matted hair hung over her face, dragging the floor as she knelt, hugging herself. She was pressed into the farthest crevice she could find, rocking slightly and letting out a pitiful, low whimper.

  Ronan’s heart broke for her. He could tell by the length of her hair and the ill fit of her clothes that she’d been here a long time. Years, perhaps.

  Behind him, battle raged on, but he ignored it, putting all his focus on the frightened woman crouched a few feet away.

  “I’m Ronan,” he told her, modulating his voice so that only gentleness came through—none of his anger. Within his tone, he embedded a hint of power, just a mere whisper of it, urging her to stay calm and trust him. Once she was in reach, he could do more, but for now, it was all he could manage. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

  She looked up, her pale face covered in dirt save for two paths where her tears had run. Panic made her eyes wide, and he could see her heart fluttering wildly in the gaunt hollow of her throat.

  She stayed there, frozen motionless, like a rabbit.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  The bars blocked his path. He had enough strength to bend or break them, but then he’d be left weak and unable to help her further. And
she was going to need help. She’d been starved. She was pregnant, likely with something inhuman. Bite marks covered her ankles, wrists, and throat. One was bleeding now. She was going to need him and his ability to heal her.

  Ronan used his sword and boots to shove away the remains of the charred demons from the doorway. He pulled the leather sleeve of his coat down to cover his hand and pulled on the hot bars. The door was locked. Of course.

  “Duck!” shouted Drake.

  Ronan jerked toward the ground, making himself as small a target as possible. The severed head of a demon clanged against the bars, rattling them.

  The woman looked up, her chin trembling. “The key,” she whispered, her bony finger pointing behind him. Her hand shook, but she was still with him, thinking clearly enough to help.

  Ronan looked to where she pointed and saw the metallic glint of a key hanging from a hook driven into the stone.

  He skirted around the remains of combat, ducking the splatter of black blood flinging from the tip of Drake’s sword. He grabbed the key and sprinted back, wasting no time in opening the door.

  The woman was standing now, her clothing hanging from her frame. The sleeves were too short, as if she’d been wearing it for years. Her jeans were in tatters, held closed over her protruding belly with a bit of shoelace. The faint outline of a kitten was embroidered on one leg—a childish emblem meant for childish clothes.

  Whoever she was, she’d been here a long, long time.

  Ronan held out his hand, planting his feet solidly on the ground so that he didn’t give in to the urge to race toward her.

  She looked at his hand, then his face, then past him to what was going on outside the bars.

  “We won’t let them hurt you. Give me your hand.”

  She took a step. He could see her whole body shaking with the effort.

  “That’s right. Just a bit more and we’ll have you out of here.”

  Another step, then another. She was close enough for him to extend his reach and take her hand, but he held firm, letting her come to him.