Dust: A Bloods Book

by Andra Leigh

  “These possessions have value far beyond your life.” His gaze strayed to the shadows spreading out from her back. “Although...”

  “Want to keep me now, Harmon?” she asked seriously. “I’ll never be kept again. I was kept for years. Made to forget. I was tortured. And you helped that happen. But I got out. I’m no longer their prisoner. So no, I’m not here for an apology or even to break your things – though it is enjoyable – I’m here as a warning. You will never help the Reigner make people vanish or die ever again.”

  Harmon smirked. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I believe ‘warning’ was the word I used.”

  “And what exactly are you going to do to me if I ignore this warning?”

  “Well, I’ve become somewhat successful at kidnappings,” Eliscity mused. “Perhaps I could simply make you vanish like so many do in this Realm.”

  The truth was she didn’t know what she would do. What could she do? She wanted him to be afraid. To see the evil in the things he had done. Yet the man had no feelings. Not for anything beyond his precious collections.

  As if proving her point Harmon laughed loudly at her.

  “You can’t do anything to me,” he whispered dangerously. His mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “In fact, very soon you won’t be doing anything ever again.”

  He lunged for her.

  She leapt away, almost evading his grasp. But his fingers tangled in her hair and she was wrenched forward by the scalp. She yelped in pain.

  “You are something…impossible,” Harmon revelled as he dragged her across the room. “I’m not letting impossible disappear.”

  While she hadn’t expected him to attack her so forcefully, she hadn’t forgotten that he had easily slapped her to shut her up the day he had given her to the Clinic. Which was why she had made sure to hold onto the broken stem of one of the goblets. A broken stem she now plunged into his foot.

  He cried out, letting go of her in his desperation to get the crystal out of his flesh. She climbed to her feet ready to head for the double doors but he was already moving toward her again. She ducked, swivelled and tossed him over her shoulder in one smooth movement, using a strong flick of her wings to rush air up under him and throw him further. He landed on his side with a crunch. Nursing his left arm from the elbow he clambered to his feet. With his good arm he grabbed for her throat, she blocked but he was expecting it and grabbed her arm instead, flinging her into one of the wall cabinets. Glass rained down her body, slicing shallow cuts down her. Goblets clattered, bounced and broke.

  “See, isn’t it fun breaking your things?” she spat.

  Leaning into the jagged remains of the cabinet she kicked out with all her strength, catching him square in the hip. He buckled to the side and leapt for her. She dropped, diving out of the way. Becoming aware of a throbbing sting in her shoulder blade she reached around and yanked a sliver of glass from it. It wasn’t serious, she decided. She’d been lucky. She frowned. Or had her wings offered her a shadowy layer of protection? Before she could consider this Harmon was springing at her again, glass glinting in his hand. Just dodging his strike she aimed a jab at his injured arm. Hissing in pain he swiped the glass shard at her once more. It missed. And again. As she twisted out of his way for a third time he knocked her to the side. She stumbled. He was on her in a second, pushing her to the ground, his weight too much for her to hold up against. She collapsed. Holding her down and fighting against her thrashing, he spun her around, tearing at the back of her shirt.

  “How are they possible?” he breathed. “Like silk. Can they be real? Such an ordinary person like you doesn’t deserve them.”

  She couldn’t move. Couldn’t get out from under his weight. The sting of the glass edge touched her back, ready to cut off her wings.

  So she retracted them.

  The shadows slipped and slid into the slits in her back, disappearing from Harmon’s reach. The glass left her skin.

  “Wha– no. No!” Harmon cried. “Bring them back. Now. Bring them back.” As he rolled her over – no doubt to continue his demanding – she punched him in the mouth. It caused enough of a shock for her to be able to push him off and clamber to her feet, shaking out the tingling sensation in her hand. Her knuckles really didn’t appreciate it when she hit with a closed fist.

  Harmon spat blood at his feet, brandishing the glass shard like a knife.

  “Bring. Them. Back.”

  “Say please.”

  He sprung. She was focused on the hand holding the sharp weapon, desperate to keep it well away from where Harmon was aiming it; her heart. That was why she wasn’t prepared when something solid slammed into her ribs. Her breath exploded within her chest. Her body buckled and locked. Black spots tunnelled across her vision.

  Harmon let her fall to the floor. She had to get up. She couldn’t stay down, he’d kill her for sure. Coughing and spluttering for air she pushed up to her knees. But Harmon’s foot connected with her ribs, crunching into her bones and sending splintering shoots of pain through her.

  Finding herself on the floor again she held onto her ribs, gasping shallow breaths.

  They were broken.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Harmon winding up to kick her again. She couldn’t let that happen. If it didn’t kill her then it would make her pass out. Which would mean her death anyway. This man had already made Drae and her family believe she was dead. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of bringing about her actual death. Steadying herself for pain, she waited for him to lash out then rolled away, grabbing his leg at the same time. Latched on to him, she twisted. He went down. His head cracked against a marble goblet, but he didn’t lose consciousness. He crawled over her, blood streaming down his face and dripping onto her. So much of his blood was trickling down onto her. More than just his head wound provided. Crimson was blossoming across his collarbone, a large sparkly splinter in its centre. He had stabbed himself with the glass shard as he had fallen. And he hadn’t seemed to have noticed yet. Eliscity decided the kind thing to do would be to inform him. Clutching at the protruding weapon she twisted it within his collarbone.

  He screamed.

  Falling away from her he clambered to his feet as she did the same.

  She had no strength left. Her ribs were scraping together. She couldn’t kick. Couldn’t put any power behind a punch. Harmon still had his right side. He still had the strength to win this. He seemed to realise this. Grinning sickly he stepped toward her.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Bring her wings back.

  They slid out behind her, stopping Harmon in his tracks, glee lighting his face. Then they did more than stop his approach. She flapped them, moving the air around them forward with one quick snap. The force knocked into Harmon and he fell back, smashing into the centre piece of his collection. Glass shattered. Metal screeched. Then silence.

  Nothing moved. No noise. No shifting or cascades of glass. Had time stopped?

  As her breath grinded in her chest and a ringing in her ears began Eliscity realised time had not stopped. But the room had stilled.

  Harmon was lying in the broken remains of his collection. And he wasn’t getting up. He wasn’t going to get up.

  Harmon Reinhold was dead.

  She had killed him.

  She had…

  She had to get away.

  Eliscity stumbled out of the house, blood painting the doorframe as she grabbed it to stop her falling over.

  A barking interrupted the ringing in her ears. The dogs, she realised hazily. They were both at the end of their chains, straining up to her with shrill yelps. Of course they were. She was covered in their master’s blood.

  But the dogs didn’t attack. Instead the first dog licked her hand. The second whined against her leg.

  She pulled at the chains, looping them over the dogs’ heads, before tossing them far away. The dogs pawed at their suddenly bare necks as if unsure of their new found freedom.

/>   “Go,” she wheezed. “Off you go.”

  She pushed at them lightly and they caught on. They scampered and fell against each other before shooting out the gate and out of sight.

  She wasn’t far behind them, not paying any attention to where she was going. She was focused only on putting as much distance as possible between her and Harmon’s body. How long until he was found? How long would he be lying there for? Blood pooling around him. Oh, Bloods. She felt ill. Bile was rising in her throat. Falling to her knees she threw up in a bush, crying out at the stabbing pains it caused in her ribs. Pushing the images of Harmon out of her mind she lurched to her feet. She couldn’t think about it right now. About him. All she knew was she had to get away. Far away. She kept walking. Away from the houses. From the people. Away from Talcony.

  When she finally paused to take in her surroundings she almost passed out.

  She spun around. And around again.

  It was all the same. Every way she looked offered her the same perspective. The Cityel stretching out so far it shifted into sky. There was nothing else. No towns or wagons. No life.

  She had stumbled into The Horizon.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Wolf and the Reigness

  • Acanthea •

  No one was in a good mood.

  Acanthea had thought it wouldn’t matter to her whether the Family’s disposition was cheery or stormy, but as it turned out she wasn’t enjoying its current icy temperature.

  There was tension, snappy comments and brooding. A whole lot of brooding.

  While she knew her little Dust adventure was to blame for much of the tension, Jinx’s irritating brooding was all because Eliscity had gone and skipped off somewhere. She found it strange that Eliscity had left in the first place. She thought the Family were inseparable. It didn’t make any sense that Eliscity would pack up and run away the same way Acanthea had done. Acanthea had had reasons to run. Unlike Eliscity who seemed to have disappeared just because Jinx had snapped at her.

  Most of the others didn’t seem to look at it as running away though. Despite their sadness at Eliscity leaving, they appeared to be happy for her that she had left. It was all completely baffling.

  Unfortunately, she was unable to escape the brooding bafflement as she was no longer permitted extended stays on the surface with Cyan. It was part of her new punishment for leaving. Though she was under the impression it was the reason for her leaving that was more the problem than her actual leaving. She could still feel the itch of her Dust craving creeping through her veins. And she wasn’t getting any more Dust. Not here. Jinx had made that much clear. If she was ever going to Dust again she would have to leave the Manor for good. And she couldn’t do that yet. She still hadn’t found Wyon Eddwist.

  A shattering sound interrupted her thoughts.

  Acanthea looked around the large underground room. Laleita was rushing to the kitchen bench. She disappeared behind the chive shoots that sprouted from one of the garden boxes.

  Initially, Acanthea wasn’t going to move, thinking something had simply been knocked over. That wasn’t her problem. But then the three brothers stopped their fast paced talking. Fur-Ball and the Boulder stood up. Jinx let the blades he was throwing slide to the table. The whole family moved toward the bench as one.

  No, that wasn’t right.

  She looked around the space, expecting to see another approaching the bench. There was no one else. Realising this, Acanthea followed the others, a sense of dread creeping over her.

  She was the last to round the bench. Peering through the mass of bodies and limbs, she saw Laleita kneeling in the broken remnants of a plate. But that wasn’t what had brought everyone to the bench. The missing family member was.

  Neith was lying on the floor.

  ●

  Acanthea dabbed cold water onto Neith’s forehead, half expecting it to sizzle and turn into vapour as it hit his skin. Her efforts to cool the frail man’s temperature had, thus far, been in vain. The heat of Neith’s sickness would not break.

  Acanthea was scared.

  It had been three days since he had collapsed. Since then he hadn’t eaten anything and hadn’t been able keep any medicine or liquid down. At one point they’d tried warming water up to match his heat in hopes his body wouldn’t reject it. It hadn’t worked.

  As the hours had dragged into days Acanthea’s worry had been replaced by fear. Fear not of whether he would die, but of when.

  Neith was dying. And truthfully, Acanthea didn’t know if she was strong enough to handle watching it happen. To sit at his side, holding his hot, shivering hand and waiting for him to go away. That wasn’t something she could be okay with.

  Yet she couldn’t leave.

  The old man was gentle and kind. It broke her heart to see him looking so small on the bed, his breath whistling in his throat and nose.

  She didn’t speak.

  There was nothing she wanted to say.

  What she did do was hum. A low familiar tune under her breath. It was the song Cathrainra had sung to her when she had been young and afraid, then after each of her Dustings as she had washed Acanthea’s face like Acanthea did for Neith now. It was the only song she knew all the words to.

  Can you hear the children crying?

  Do you cry the tears they weep?

  See, the children are all sighing,

  While the world falls fast asleep.

  See, each night they live their day,

  Shrouded and swallowing double laces.

  While you determine what to pray,

  Are those your saving graces?

  Can you feel the evil growing?

  Do you wane beneath its stare?

  See, the seeds of evil sowing,

  While the parents fuel its despair.

  See, the ruling tide is rising high,

  It’s taking over all our shores.

  While the children disguise why,

  You believe them to be the cause.

  Can you speak of the direness said?

  Do you know the dreams undreamt?

  See, the children’s hopes are unfed,

  While you command them to repent.

  See, you’re blind when you look down,

  You don’t care to notice the dirt.

  While you supplicate a bloodied crown,

  The children wear their bloodied shirt.

  Can you hear the children crying?

  Do you cry the tears they weep?

  See, the children are all dying,

  While the world falls fast asleep.

  Sometimes she thought Neith could hear her. He would flick his bleary eyes to hers, looking at her like he saw someone else. Someone that comforted him. But these moments were fleeting. She hummed out of tradition, letting the familiarity of it keep her grounded and calm.

  Neith had already spent so much of his life dying. Too much. And while she was terrified of him passing away, she feared more that this moment would never end. That Neith would continue to die for the rest of time. That nothing would cease his suffering.

  His entire body shook. Sweat beaded over his skin, soaking the eleventh change of sheets beneath him. Acanthea could see his cracked lips quivering with words too quiet to hear. She knew they were nonsense sentences. He wasn’t lucid, hadn’t been for days. The heat of his sickness had stolen his mind.

  He was lost.

  “How is he?”

  Acanthea blinked a few times, her mind hazy. Jinx approached, staying just out of reach of the bed. She hadn’t missed the fact that he had not touched Neith since the collapse. Unlike the others, he wouldn’t stay by his side for long. Like it was too painful. She could see his tired grief beneath his controlled facials. He’d taken Eliscity’s leaving hard and was now being forced to admit he was losing another member of his strange family. She could tell he wasn’t handling it particularly well.

  She didn’t answer his question. There was no need.

  Instead she wrung the clot
h in her hands out before dipping it back into the bowl of water at her side. Neith barely noticed the splash of cool liquid over his face and body. But she continued nonetheless. Anything to keep herself busy.

  She reached the end of her hummed song. Unlike all the times before, she didn’t restart it. Jinx too remained silent, looking up only when Cyan entered the room.

  The doctor was wan, staring down at his dying friend. There was no medicine he could give him that would make him better. Cyan lay a hand on her arm, stilling her as she went to wring more cold water onto Neith’s burning skin. Thinking he meant to take over, she gave up the cloth. However, he lay it down next to the water bowl and held onto her hands over Neith’s body for a moment. With a gentle squeeze he let her go. Tears wet her cheeks as she realised what was happening.

  It was time to let Neith go.

  Acanthea wasn’t sure how long they sat in silence together. She and Cyan held Neith’s hands, soundless tears streaking down both of their faces. Jinx leant on the far wall, head bowed.

  As time crept on, heat from Neith’s body rose, clinging to the air surrounding him. His body shook and seized. Desperate not to see, Acanthea shut her eyes tightly. While blind to his writhing she could still hear blood gurgling in his throat.

  “Laleita,” Cyan’s voice broke through the sounds of death.

  For the first time Acanthea became aware that the family had taken up their own mourning spots in the room.

  “Can you do anything?” there was a tremble in Cyan’s plead.

  Laleita stepped toward the bed, eyes only for its resident. Her slender fingers brushed against Neith’s forehead. At her touch, the dying man slumped into his soaked sheets; his ragged breathing slowed, evening out. Laleita’s fingertips settled on his temples, massaging into his skin. His eyes, foggy with pain, swam in his head for a moment before clearing. His stare didn’t see the room. He didn’t focus on Acanthea or Cyan at his side. He seemed to look through them. Onto something only he could see.

  Acanthea felt his bony fingers grip around her own, holding her hand for the first time since she had taken hold of his three days ago. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes with the pressure.