Blood Seeker

by Lexi C. Foss

  “A topic we are still evaluating,” Lucian called over to them. “Some infractions require pain as punishment.”

  The mind reader’s jaw clenched. “Not today.”

  Sethios shrugged. “Fine. I can intimidate her without true physical harm. Just open the door.”

  “Or perhaps I should enter first. I have no quarrels with the Ichorian. I just need to borrow her ability.”

  Balthazar’s irises flashed with instant suspicion. “Borrow?”

  “Yes.” Gabriel didn’t see the need to elaborate. He’d purposely used that term.

  Balthazar narrowed his brown eyes. “Explain how you intend to ‘borrow’ it.”

  “It would be more prudent to show you instead.” He didn’t necessarily care if they learned about Gabriel’s rune. It wasn’t like they could remove or replicate the charm.

  Gabriel took a step forward, only to have Balthazar block him like he’d done Sethios seconds before. “Will it hurt her?”

  “Minor scrapes cause pain in some beings, so potentially, yes.” He planned to use a blade against her palm or wrist, whichever proved easier.

  Rather than wait for a reply, Gabriel misted through Balthazar and the door to reach the prisoner inside. Lucian had already provided his permission for this experiment. He didn’t need the mind reader’s acceptance as well, just his willingness to convey the captive’s thoughts. Which he would do once he realized the girl was mostly unharmed.

  Only, the sight of her had Gabriel pausing upon his entry.

  She sat in a corner with her slender arms wrapped around her exposed legs, the long shirt she wore barely covering her thighs. Her crystal blue eyes held a manic gleam to them that enhanced her odd rocking.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Sideways.

  Repeat.

  He frowned at her quick repetition, his surprise at her condition costing him precious seconds and allowing Balthazar the chance to unlock the door and enter.

  Gabriel materialized but didn’t try to approach the female. Instead, he studied her, noting the bizarre aura around her. Her blonde ringlets were tangled, indicating it’d been a few days since her last brushing. But that wasn’t what confused him—it was the bathroom attached to her cell with the shower she’d clearly not used for some time. If ever.

  Was she rebelling? That would explain the uneaten food as well. But what practical recourse did that serve? She was hurting herself more than others, as evidenced by the dark bags beneath her eyes.

  Ichorians needed blood, and this woman had clearly not imbibed much lately. Balthazar had worried needlessly about Gabriel harming her. She was doing that just fine on her own.

  Fortunately, Gabriel didn’t need her coherent to borrow her abilities.

  He misted to her side, a blade already in his hand, and knelt. “I need a sample of your blood,” he informed her softly.

  The words just sort of came out of him without permission or purpose. She didn’t need to know what he wanted or why he intended to touch her. Prisoners had no rights. She’d also more than earned this fate. Yet some part of him felt the need to explain himself.

  Rather than evaluate the oddity, he quickly sliced the knife across her forearm. She didn’t move or react, just continued that inane twisting, her eyes focused on some point ahead of her.

  His lips nearly curled down at the sight, but he busied himself by tasting the essence coating his blade.

  Blood never really appealed to him, despite it being a primary source of power for his kind. However, Clara’s essence contained a tangy flavor that briefly caught his attention as he swallowed. Then the tingling began at the base of his spine as his rune engaged, distracting him from the female’s taste.

  He sheathed his blade, waiting for the power to ignite. The last time he did this—about two decades ago—it’d taken only a few seconds for him to feel the effects of the new talent.

  This one appeared to be coming to him gradually, likely because he’d imbibed less blood than the other experience. He could take more if—

  His knees nearly buckled as the full force of her ability stole his breath.

  Fuck!

  The pain.

  It hurt his heart, squeezing the organ so tightly he couldn’t breathe. It overwhelmed him, bringing tears to his eyes. He’d never felt anything like it, as though someone had taken a dagger to his chest and shoved deep.

  Wind blew through his ears, roaring with rage, inundating his senses and handicapping him entirely. Where was it coming from? How was this possible?

  More tears streamed down his face, his cheeks aching from the assault. Fuck, he was wheezing, and at some point, he’d ended up on the floor beside the female. She stared down at him with sharp blue eyes filled with the agony he felt inside.

  How was she doing this to him? Crippling him beneath this wave of unknown pain?

  Deep voices boomed overhead, their presence flaying the skin right off of Gabriel’s prone form. He’d never experienced such brutality, nor did he comprehend the source.

  What was this power? It reminded him of Alik’s ability to mentally torture his victims. But Gabriel was immune to those gifts. Unless Clara’s blood was somehow connected, but he doubted it.

  Her blood, he thought to himself, trying to regain his focus. This is her blood.

  No, not her blood.

  Her power.

  He was feeling the results of her empathy. Emotions.

  His eyes widened at the realization that he was experiencing her emotions through empathy. And all the emotions surrounding them. At once. Something he’d never been exposed to in his entire existence.

  He’d only meant to test his own levels of humanistic sensibilities. He hadn’t considered what turning on this ability would mean for him in regard to others.

  All their emotions became his own.

  And Gabriel had no training in how to handle this forced sensation. He never had a practical reason to learn it.

  Yet it was the anguish emanating from Clara that startled him more, and the fact that he wanted to help her. Because no one should ever endure that kind of agony.

  Except, no, she’d earned that pain.

  But did she? he wondered, conflicted by what he sensed in her emotional aura.

  He shook his head, attempting to clear it. The words of the others started to infiltrate his mind, Balthazar commenting that it seemed Gabriel had more than just borrowed Clara’s ability—he’d consumed it.

  Which was an obvious statement.

  What they should be paying attention to was Clara’s pain. Did they not sense it? Couldn’t Balthazar hear it? Could no one else feel it? The emotions burned against Gabriel’s conscience, forcing him to act. He needed it to stop so he could concentrate! To find himself again and wait out these negative consequences of her ability.

  One thing was astutely obvious to him—he was not at emotional risk levels.

  However, he might be after this. Because fuck.

  “Help her,” he managed through a dry throat. “Fuck. Make it stop!”

  Silence met his words.

  An unacceptable reaction.

  “She’s in agony.” Gabriel’s jaw clenched around the words, his hands curling into fists. “Fix. It.” As soon as he finished speaking, he realized the solution, his Seraphim mind taking over and misting him as far away from Hydria as possible.

  Only, it took him to the one place he shouldn’t have gone—home.

  Where two messenger Seraphim were waiting for him in his living room.

  Apparently, there was a deadline after all.

  Of right fucking now.

  “What the hell just happened?” Lucian demanded, entering the room about five minutes too late. He’d been so focused on that Eliza chick that he hadn’t witnessed Gabriel’s intense reaction to Clara’s power.

  It seemed experiencing emotions after a lifetime of disregarding them had been a bit too much for the Seraphim to bear. Or, more specifically
, it’d been the “agony” he’d felt from the blonde Ichorian in the corner.

  Sethios studied her while Balthazar brought Lucian up to speed with a quick summary of the events. “Gabriel imbibed some of Clara’s blood, thereby inheriting her empathetic abilities. He didn’t seem to enjoy it.”

  “He said he needed an empath to test his emotional levels. I assumed that meant he wanted someone who could read him, not someone he could literally drink power from.” Lucian turned thoughtful. “I wonder if all Seraphim can do that.”

  “Caro couldn’t,” Sethios murmured as he went to his haunches before Clara, a strand of familiar energy catching his eye.

  “Stas can’t manipulate vision, yet she has obviously bitten Wakefield,” Balthazar added, his words painting an unwelcome picture in Sethios’s mind. He chose to ignore it and follow the enchanted lines weaving an invisible trail across Clara’s svelte form. It wasn’t an essence many would recognize or even be able to identify, but he had a lot of experience playing with spells such as these.

  They were his father’s favorite creations, after all.

  This one was crudely done, as though he’d thrown this compulsion on her in a hurry or perhaps without much care. Maybe he’d anticipated someone seeing it and undoing the persuasion. “Has Astasiya seen Clara since you imprisoned her?” Sethios wondered out loud, his focus on those loose strands around her.

  “No, why?” Lucian asked.

  “Because I think my father left her a present to unravel.” It would be just like him to compel someone as a training gift. Sethios paused for a moment, considering the opportunity to teach her, but decided against it. He wanted to know what his father had persuaded this girl to do before he endangered his daughter with the task.

  Just a few more strands, he thought, untying the proverbial bow with his mind. And... done.

  The girl shrieked in response, the scream harsh enough to make his ears bleed. He nearly commanded she shut up, but words were streaming from her mouth in a rapid fire of insults and accusations that all seemed to blend together. None of it was meant for him but was directed at the two Elders behind him.

  “How could you?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she lost herself to a sob that had Balthazar immediately kneeling before her. “I would never do that! You know I would never do that! God, and the excuse. Issac. Are you kidding me? Aidan was my father. My family. I would never... I would never!”

  Sethios moved out of the way as the mind reader reached for the girl. He didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever the fuck this was.

  Which turned out to be the right move because Clara punched Balthazar half a beat later. Then she cried out in horror, another scream parting her lips.

  The Elder massaged his jaw, his brown eyes narrowing up at Sethios. “What did you do to her?”

  “I removed Osiris’s compulsion,” he replied. “I don’t know what he persuaded her to do, but it’s gone now.”

  “You can do that?” Lucian sounded intrigued.

  “Not typically, no. This seems to have been done on purpose. I think he meant for Astasiya to remove it.” Given the female’s reaction, he was glad he’d handled this instead of his daughter.

  Someone cleared a throat from the doorway, causing Sethios and Lucian to turn.

  Alik stood with his arms folded across his chest, his hip propped against the door frame. “I assume this means Clara wasn’t actually our mole but was framed as one.” He didn’t phrase it as a question so much as a statement. “Which means we have an even bigger problem.”

  “Unless Clara can tell us who did this,” Lucian pointed out.

  “She doesn’t know,” Balthazar murmured, his palm against the girl’s cheek. She’d quieted a little, perhaps because he’d engaged his ability to manipulate emotion. Sethios had never actually witnessed that talent before, but he could see its usefulness in this situation.

  “What does she know?” Lucian countered.

  “That everyone she loved betrayed her,” Balthazar growled. “That we chose to believe a cruel trick over decades of friendship.”

  “She admitted guilt,” Alik drawled. “And she provided reasons.”

  “Reasons I said were asinine,” Balthazar countered. “She’s never been romantically inclined toward Wakefield. We all know that. We were just quick to assign guilt because we wanted a solution to the problem.”

  “Jonathan received a call with the location we gave her,” Lucian said softly. “Mateo tracked the phone records.”

  “It wasn’t me!” Clara shouted. “Why would I give that monster anything?”

  Sethios considered asking what all this meant, but he had enough on his mind in regard to Caro and wherever the hell Gabriel had fucked off to.

  “My services are no longer needed here,” he said, heading for the door. “Call me if you have a prisoner I can actually play with.”

  He didn’t wait to hear a reply, his steps already carrying him out of the room—after Alik had moved out of his way—and down the hall.

  The female Guardian stood waiting at the end, her friend long gone after whatever Lucian had said to her. Sethios gave the woman a nod, then left the hut and went to find Astasiya. They needed to have a chat about her dreams. Gabriel would come back eventually. If he didn’t, Sethios would send Leela to find him.

  I’m done wasting time, angel, he thought at Caro. If you don’t want to reply to me, that’s fine. But I’m going to find you. Even if it means crashing the council chambers and dragging you home.

  The more he considered that plan, the more he liked it.

  What would they do? Rehabilitate him, too?

  He nearly laughed.

  If they couldn’t fix his father, they certainly couldn’t fix him. And neither of them could be killed. So why not?

  If only I had my wings, he mused. Then I could mist right in there and grab you.

  I miss you, she whispered back at him, causing him to freeze on the beach.

  Caro? Was that really her, or a memory loop sent to taunt him?

  Shh, she hushed him. They’ll hear you.

  Who will?

  I’m not supposed to be here. I have to go.

  Go where? he demanded.

  Nothing.

  He growled low under his breath, fed up with this game of hints and no solutions. I’m done with this, he said. It’s time to do things my way.

  With brute force.

  Anger.

  And a hell of a lot of blood.

  He just needed a location for the rehabilitation facility, and he knew just whom to get it from—the only Seraphim currently on this fucking island. Leela.

  There was a reason Gabriel preferred to live just outside the main Seraphim boundaries—privacy. That didn’t exist within the water veil encircling the primary cluster of South Pacific islands.

  The barriers were built to keep mortals out. Ships and planes were diverted away from this area by technological and magical suggestions that essentially kept this place a secret on the globe. No mortal had ever discovered it.

  Well, no mortal alive, anyway.

  Gabriel had once heard a myth about the Bermuda Triangle from a mortal at a bar. He supposed the Seraphim region was a similar concept, only real and entirely undocumented. His kind ensured it stayed that way.

  Once through the misty walls, a city of advanced tech and prosperity was revealed over hundreds of islands. They all varied in size. Except for the principal one at the center.

  The central city was built into a dormant volcano that the Seraphim kept well under control. It housed all the primary business functions of their world, including the council chambers.

  Gabriel drifted along on a breeze, choosing to fly instead of misting directly to their door. He needed time to rid himself of Clara’s power. Fortunately, he wouldn’t experience much of a reaction here, surrounded by unfeeling Seraphim. The problem was more that it made him feel. Sort of. Or he thought that might be the cause of this strange fuzzy sensation in
his chest.

  Was he feeling nostalgic? No. That couldn’t be right.

  Worried? Maybe.

  His brow furrowed. What is that nagging feeling? And why do humans put up with this bullshit? It dragged him down, making him long to avoid his destination.

  Maybe this was what dread felt like—that negative pull that had him wanting to return to Hydria, not head farther into Seraphim territory. He’d never experienced it quite like this before.

  Typically, he just did his duty and left. It was quicker and more efficient than this floating along in the clouds.

  Yet something about the wind in his feathers felt rather pleasant.

  Why do I avoid this? he wondered, rolling onto his back to drift along. It’s... soothing. His lips curled down. Did I just call something “soothing”?

  “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and gazing blankly up at the dazzling sun. It was closer to noon here. Maybe. His concept of time today blurred from all the traveling and his lack of sleep. He didn’t actually require rest, but it helped with establishing a routine. However, his routine of late was nonexistent.

  With a sigh—a noise he had probably never made in his life in this manner—he dove through the clouds and headed toward his destination.

  This empathy gift wasn’t leaving him anytime soon. So he’d use it to his advantage instead and see if any of the council members were showing signs of emotion that he could use against them. Because this conversation was going to be a painful one, indeed.

  Gabriel marveled at the golds and silvers of the main island on his approach. He’d never noticed just how sparkly it all was, the sunlight illuminating it and giving the metal structures a majestic appearance. Tall palm trees and other vegetation decorated the scene, adding to the enchanted atmosphere.

  There were trees on top of buildings and inside them because the Seraphim had built around the natural landscape. Branches poked out through the myriad of glassless windows, the city climate one that kept everyone comfortable despite the humidity. It was another magical antidote that Gabriel had never really considered yet viewed in an entirely new manner now.

  This truly was paradise.