“Beth! No!”
Jeb has no choice but to chase after her.
Three Reflective females plunge out of the middle of the sky and into a lake. Their screams of sheer terror echo over the relative quiet of the water.
Jeb flinches, knowing their horror is like a dinner bell for nightlopers. He gauges the time of day, thanking Principle it's only the start of twilight.
Triple moons bleed wan light over the women. They flail and scream, their wide eyes pitching around for anything solid, familiar.
None can swim.
The others race back to the shore, heedless of who might follow.
Jeb has only the Eighth hammering in his brain: Defend those who cannot.
The group leaps into the icy lake to save those who cannot save themselves.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Beth
Beth took her Reflective training seriously and is well-versed in all sorts of different pursuits not relevant to Papilio. This includes swimming.
Reflecting is so entrenched in the Papilion culture that the few lakes that exist are rarely used to jump, and even less likely to be used to swim. There are so many portals, large and small, that reflect, the papiliones have little use for swimming.
That's why the three Reflective females, assigned to clerical, are currently drowning.
Beth heaves herself into the lake without hesitation, and her boots weigh her down immediately. Using a Three swimming stroke, aptly named “the butterfly,” she tosses her body out of the water, launching back with persistent accuracy.
Jeb uses the “crawl” and gains on the drowning women. Being an expert swimmer was one of the only things that saved Beth in the lake when she and Ryan jumped together.
It would be the only thing to save the women—if she could get to them.
She breaks the surface of the frigid water, takes a wild sucking breath, and sees a pale hand waving like a frantic flag above the surface.
Beth dives, shooting underneath the water and stabbing toward the lone limb.
She grabs the woman about the waist then surges backward and up. They bob along the surface like an unlikely buoy, and Beth gasps.
Kennet and Jeb grab the remaining two. One woman is not breathing. Calvin is waiting on shore, ready to assist.
Beth's spluttering charge fights Beth, possibly still assuming she's drowning.
Her struggling begins to cause Beth to sink. Beth turns her head to suck air, driving her right arm back as she pulls behind her, using her powerful legs to kick backward.
The woman elbows her in the stomach, and Beth folds, going under. When she breaks the surface, she's dazed.
Oxygen deprivation.
Where the hades are Slade and Gunnar? I could use a little help.
Beth hazards a glance behind her and spots the Bloodlings pacing the shore, their unnervingly distraught eyes on her.
Why aren't they helping?
The same elbow strikes Beth hard in the nose, and blood pumps into the water, spreading around them.
Dizziness sinks its teeth into Beth's skull. “Stop!” Beth yells at the woman, and she stills.
Too late.
Unconsciousness slides into the pockets of her mind.
“Beth!” Jeb roars from somewhere close by.
Her hold on the woman loosens. Dear Principle.
Jeb can't reach her—he's got his own woman to save. They'll all go down.
“Slade!” Beth calls weakly. She reaches out, winding her fingers in the woman's hair, and yanks her by the scalp, driving toward shore.
“Ah!” she screams.
Beth's lips curl into a dazed smile. That's what you get for fighting your rescuer.
Beth rolls over, blowing water out of her mouth, and looks at Gunnar and Slade.
Fools.
“Why aren't you chumps saving the day?” Jacky yells. “God, with all the manpower, you two stand around? Doy.”
Jacky dives in, leaving the Bloodlings at the shore.
Beth goes under again. Her eyes catch a single reflection where the water creeps to shore, growing shallow and clear.
Beth's eyes latch on to the reflection, and she sees her own eyes stare back for the span of a blink.
It's enough.
She knows she's too weak to reflect, but she jumps anyway.
Opening her eyes, Beth finds she's beneath Jacky. Surprised, she gasps, dragging water into her lungs.
She can't breathe.
Strong arms tear her from the water.
“Beth!”
Jeb.
He sounds so worried.
Weight settles on her chest.
Her eyes bulge. No air!
Jeb and Slade peer down at her. Slade shoves Jeb, and he flies away.
Slade gazes down at her, cupping her face.
“Tiny frog.” His teeth tear at his forearm.
Beth shakes her head, just the barest motion, and he smiles down at her.
No more of his blood.
The expression never reaches his eyes. He can't erase the worry from his features, no matter how hard he tries. Slade pretends around Jeb, but not when it's only her.
Hot blood splatters across Beth's face, and Jeb looms behind Slade.
Gunnar lays hands on Jeb, and they begin to beat each other with fists.
Kennet attacks Gunnar; Calvin joins in.
“Look only at me, tiny frog.”
Beth's eyes roll frantically from Gunnar to Slade's depthless eyes.
I can't breathe, she tries to say. Opening her mouth allows his blood to enter hers, and Beth tastes it. The first drop, then the second.
It scalds her tongue.
She swallows, though she still can't breathe.
Beth's back arches off the sand. She chokes, coughing blood and lake water.
Slade moves her gently onto her side. He rubs his palm in slow circles over her back.
Beth's ashamed, but she reaches for the raw wound of his arm, taking what he offers. Sighing, she latches on then breaks away, coughing.
She strikes again, drinking deeply of his vein. When Beth is satiated, the sounds of fists against flesh recede, and she falls away.
“That is so disgusting!” Beth hears Jacky say, but her eyelids don't flicker.
Strong arms lift Beth, cradling her.
“Put her the fuck down.”
Groaning ensues from below her.
“No.” The hold tightens, and Beth knows she's safe. “Do not interrupt what I've done,” Slade says.
“What you've done is tie her more strongly to you,” Jeb growls.
“And what did you do, Reflective, but let your partner drown?”
“I was right there!” Jeb roars. “I had her, and she jumped to move closer to shore. If she had not, even now, she would be free of the poison of your veins.”
Beth's eyes slowly open, and her hand falls out of Slade's embrace. She beckons with her hand, and after a hard look at Slade, Jeb comes.
“Don't,” Beth coughs, and a bit of Slade's blood escapes her lips. She unselfconsciously licks it off. “He did what he could. I don't know what was causing the trouble. I couldn't tell—” She clears her throat, and Jeb takes her hand, resentment for Slade leaking from his pores. “I couldn’t tell how far away you were. I figured we'd both drown.”
“Bloodlings can't survive in water,” Slade says.
Gunnar gets to his feet. His face is swelling from the attack from Kennet, Jeb, and Calvin. Maddie is crying softly in the background.
Jeb has the grace to cast his eyes away. “He was trying to keep me from you.”
“I don't think he'd hurt me, Jeb. He just wanted to make sure I started breathing again, and Slade was making that happen.”
Beth sits up straight.
“Slowly, tiny frog,” Slade cautions.
“Where's the Reflective I saved?” Beth looks around frantically. “Did I save her?”
“Yes.”
Beth turns her head in the direction
of the voice.
She knows that voice.
Daphne.
Beth flops back against Slade, throwing an arm over her face.
Figures.
“I'm sorry. I know you hate me.”
Beth's arm falls away, and she looks at the woman.
She doesn't look like the same highly coiffed Daphne of old. She looks like a barely put together, soaking-wet shell of who she used to be.
“I don't hate you,” Beth lies.
She shrugs her narrow shoulders, looking at the ground. “I was one of the females who regularly made fun of you.”
Beth lets out a deep breath. True.
She's about to be gracious after her near-drowning. “Maybe, but everything's different now, isn't it?”
Daphne nods, eyes still glued to the sand. “I can't swim. I didn't mean to…” She bursts into tears.
Maddie moves to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “We're all lucky Beth and Jeb came back.”
Daphne's tear-stained face rises, and raw accusation lies in her wide, sea-green eyes. “Why did you ever leave us in the first place? Do you know what we are now?”
“Put me down,” Beth says.
Slade sets her on her feet. He must sense she'll plant her face in the sand, because his grip remains firm.
Jeb moves to her side as Gunnar spits a wad of bloody mucus in the sand, eyeing the Reflectives warily.
“I know what Reflective Ryan did,” Beth confirms in a low voice. “I know that it's a miracle you and the other two Reflectives managed to leave whatever sector you were in and coincidentally jump to where we happened to be. And I know that you don't have to be what he forced you to be anymore. We're not going anywhere.”
Jeb takes Beth's hand again, and gives Slade a look that seems to clearly say, I've got her now.
Slade maintains his hold.
Beth gently drags the two behind her as she crosses the short distance to Daphne and Maddie.
The men are silent, even Jacky.
“The thing we accused you of, laughed at behind your back—we're so much worse, Reflective Jasper,” Daphne says with a defeated laugh.
“Whores for The Cause.”
Jeb releases Beth's hand, and she presses her fingers to the other woman's blue-tinged lips. “You are whores no longer. Choiceless no longer. Reflective Ryan will pay for his crimes, as will all those who share in the wrongdoing.”
Daphne grips Beth's hands so tightly, the blood retreats from her fingers, leaving them ghostly pale.
Daphne blinks back her tears and gives a small nod.
The Cause was an absolute.
Now it's a broken ideal.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Slade
Jeb Merrick is a problem.
He's remained a burr in Slade's side since he was able to heal himself after his fight with Reflective Ryan.
Merrick will not go quietly. He's staked a claim on Beth, and though Bloodlings do have kindred bloods in the rare female from time to time, there is no such thing as a soul mate. It is a folktale among his ancestral Blood Singers on sector Seven and unheard of on One. Males and females form alliances merely to propagate the species. That is what is of critical importance to Bloodlings.
Romantic-soul-mate searching is for fools, and Slade is no fool. He will ignore the tenderness he feels for this tiny frog. He will conquer the weakness inside himself until it is soot in the bottom of a burning heart of hate.
He loathes Dimitri. The advantage he enjoyed during Gunnar’s captivity has endangered all Bloodlings with the taking of their females.
“What troubles you?” Gunnar asks quietly as the group makes their way to the forests of the Bloodlings.
So much is deeply troubling, but he can convey none of it to Gunnar. Slade can just imagine the consequences of telling Gunnar the unvarnished truth.
Yes, Gunnar, your newly discovered warrior Reflective daughter of Lucinda, the love of your life? She is the price for the return of the remaining Bloodling females.
Slade would last a solid three minutes, at most.
Beth would be endangered.
Instead, Slade says, “Nothing, just that we be light on our feet and that we reach the tops of the great forest to secure the females.”
Gunnar frowns, keeping his stride.
Slade can almost feel the older Bloodling weigh each one of his words—and he finds the comment wanting.
“What of my daughter?” he asks slowly.
Slade gives a minimal shrug, then ticks off the facts. “We assisted her escape. Their world is in turmoil. It was a mercy to help.”
Gunnar grabs his arm, and Slade steels himself.
The mirrored black of Gunnar’s irises flashes in the growing gloom. “I know there is something more. I understand our little hopper was here. She was nearly under the thumb of that derelict Reflective…”
“Ryan,” Slade volunteers.
Gunnar nods, his eyes shifting toward the tight-knit group of Reflectives and threes not twenty paces behind him.
“This is not the safest sector for her.”
It is not the safest sector for anyone. “She doesn't appear to like you,” Slade states.
Gunnar shrugs. “Her liking me does not change what she means to me.” His eyes glitter as his anger rises to the surface like oil in water. “She is the Bloodling daughter of Lucinda, and I'll not desert her as so many apparently have during her short life. I will defend Beth—as I did today when you gave her the restorative blood share.” Gunnar viciously tightens his hair club, looking back at the group as they draw nearer. “The Reflectives who are pure blood do not understand what it is to be a Bloodling.”
He has no idea. Slade remains in contemplative silence.
“When Dimitri gets his claws into me, he will try and imprison me again. We can't have that.”
If Dimitri doesn't imprison him, Gunnar will kill me for giving up Beth.
“Ah!” Gunnar exclaims softly.
Slade follows Gunnar’s gaze to the glowing lights in the canopy of the trees high above.
Gunnar claps Slade on his shoulder. “It is good to be home and not underneath a partially buried acre of stone.”
Gunnar looks behind him and finds the male Three and Maddie. Slade has a moment of unease. Gunnar had better not start anything with the fragile Reflective. She has no strength of heart. Because she is from the chaotic sector of Three, Maddie is more liability than asset.
And she wishes to return to her home sector, not become a blood slave.
Yet kindred blood is indifferent to intellect and circumstance. It calls, and the ones under its magic answer.
Beth and the other Reflectives come to stand behind him, and Slade tilts his head to study the sky. He and Gunnar part their lips.
The call of the Bloodling, high and sharp, rises to rustle the leaves of their treetop homes.
Ropes unwind to fall head height.
Slade scans the lower trunks, so wide that five linked males would not surround the circumference.
Nothing. The wood is quiet.
Too quiet.
“Do you sense that?” Slade quickly asks Gunnar.
“Yes,” he hisses, turning to the depth of the woods as Slade does.
The Reflectives take their silent cue, and Beth backs toward them, ceramic daggers in each hand. The blades point in opposite directions, traveling in a loose half-circle around her body.
“What is it? Nightlopers?” she asks with quiet intensity, her eyes boring into the darkness.
Slade nods.
“Jacky, Maddie, stand behind us,” Jeb barks.
“Nightlopers—perfect, guys. Can't we get into the treehouses before we get in a catfight?”
“Jacky!” Maddie cries, and he sinks just as a paw swipes over his head. Strands of his hair float to the forest floor after the near-miss.
“Fuck a duck!” Jacky screeches. “That bastard about swiped my head off.”
Nightlopers pour ou
t of the womb of the surrounding forest. Partially furred bodies slink between one-thousand-year-old tree trunks.
Slade tallies their numbers, and the odds are not in his favor. He buries the instinct to protect Beth.
Merrick swings his blade and takes out much of the throat of the rat nightloper who swiped at the Three male.
Slade has a moment's regret that the Three made it before two lions come for him.
He slants his eyes at Beth and sees she is beside Gunnar. His talons punch painfully from his fingertips.
He flies over Maddie, who is huddling beside the Reflective females, and stabs his talons through the skull of the first lion. Impaling the five bony knives at his fingertips, he uses the nightloper as a tether and swings his left arm wide, catching the throat of the second.
His target staggers and stumbles forward, paws circling a throat oozing blood between his fingers.
Beth rushes to his aid, and he shouts, “No!” His fangs impede his pronunciation, and it comes out slurred.
Slade curses in frustration.
Beth ignores his warning. She jumps on his back, using it like a springboard.
She flies through the air, one leg curled beneath her body and one straight out, knives in her fists. “Ah!” she cries as she slams into a wolf nightloper.
Her foot gags his open mouth, and she wraps her free leg around his throat.
Slade stutters at the sight of Beth so close to the nightloper's mouth. He knows the nightloper won't kill a female as valuable as Beth is. But a nightloper can do much that is shy of true death.
Slade pushes off the head of the lion. Strings of his partial mane cling to Slade’s talons as they pop free of the bony skull. He falls to the ground, and Slade hops to the nightloper Beth rides.
The nightloper jerks Beth’s foot from his mouth, and she slashes at his throat with exacting precision.
It nicks his flesh, but it's not a mortal wound.
Slade plows through two more nightlopers.
“No!” he bellows, and the nightloper's eyes flick to Slade's as he stands over Beth.
Mute understanding flows between them.
Do not touch her!
The nightloper's rows of teeth gleam as he follows Beth to the ground. Her elbows slam against the forest's undergrowth. She drops one of her blades as she breaks her fall.
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