by Scott, Helen
From the looks on the guys’ faces, he hadn't shared this news with them when I'd first told him. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or pissed that he was divulging that now. In a fucking dream.
It made me feel exposed and vulnerable to see their reactions, or I guess what I imagined to be their reactions since I was dreaming. My subconscious could be excessively cruel sometimes; thankfully, this wasn't one of those times. None of them looked disgusted with the fact they'd been spending time with the daughter of a thrall, and that gave me hope, which was something that would crush me in the end when Lily became their Sixth.
I turned away from them, my mind too focused on my mother to listen to what they were saying. There was so much they didn't know, so much more than a simple word could convey.
Yes, a thrall was a blood slave, but being at the whim of another could mean so much more than just being fed from or having sex.
My mother's master was always careful to keep her hidden, since his wife refused to allow any of his thralls onto the property. He even went so far as to wear a mask when he came over to use my mother, like the air in our very neighborhood was toxic to the likes of him. Not only would she need to feed from me before he arrived, but she'd have to hunt and have a human there ready for her master, so he had someone other than her to slake his thirst. If she didn’t, then she would risk him draining her dry. That was the least of it, though.
Barclay was right on both counts, my mother had sold her blood and her body to put food on our table multiple times—her allowance from her master hadn't been enough to pay the bills and feed us. It was all she had to give, and she was so desperate. We both were. Humans thought she was a drug addict, and I was her pimp’s or dealer’s baby, which was as close to the truth as they would ever get, but the vampires living around us knew better, and some of the males took advantage.
When I was old enough to realize my mother was in danger of losing her life every time her master, my father, came over, I took it upon myself, in my little five-year-old heart, to keep an eye on her. I wanted to make sure I was there if the beating she took was too much, or if he drained her so badly she couldn't move afterward.
He was, I remembered with a shudder, fond of knives, and used to cut my mother repeatedly, so he could taste the blood through a new wound each time. Twice, he even went as far as flaying her, the first was with a whip, and the second he peeled her like an apple. He slowly deformed her until she would forever be dependent on him for everything. Until she was revolting to anyone save him and his perverted lusts.
Part of me knew I was his daughter; knew that the potential for that kind of darkness was inside me. But I always pushed it away, trying not to use my powers unless absolutely necessary. He knew about me, too. I mean, he couldn't have missed the fact my mother was pregnant. He just chose to never ask about me, or find out what happened when she gave birth. The first time he saw me was the last. He was beating my mother with his belt, her skin splitting and bleeding with each stroke since he hadn't been gone long enough for her to recover from last time.
It felt like her death was playing out in front of me each time he visited our cockroach-infested apartment. Something in me snapped this time, though, and all I wanted was for my mother to be okay. I went after him with all the fury my eight-year-old body contained.
I’d pulled on that rage, dragging it to the surface, and the whole room went dark. All noise stopped, and I lunged, digging my tiny fangs into his arm and clawing at his throat, the only vulnerable area not covered by his mask. His eyes, as dark as coal, seemed to absorb all the darkness in the room, drawing it into him before he threw me off him like I was nothing more than a bug. I smacked into the wall and slid down, the force of the impact knocking the breath from my small body.
As I struggled to breathe once more, he came over to me, his crisp white shirt torn and bloodied from my bite, while faint red scratches covered his neck. He looked down at me and those strange eyes still haunt me to this day. The darkness I had seen a moment ago disappeared, and instead, I found silvery-blue orbs staring down at me, but something was off. His pupils were elongated, as though someone had tugged on the bottom of the circle. As soon as I looked in his eyes, I knew he held no sympathy for me and would use me just as he did my mother if given the chance.
Grabbing me by the arm, he flung me up onto the bed where I landed next to my mother's unconscious form. Terror filled me as this Goliath of a monster picked up the whip he'd been using on my mother moments before.
When he brought it down on my back, it hit with such force that it pushed me further into the bed, muffling my scream as the strands of what I now knew was a cat-o'-nine-tails, bit into my back and clawed through my flesh. I tore at my mother's clothing and hair, pleading with her to wake up and stop the torture, but she didn't.
I passed out a few moments later, and it was the last time I saw him–and the second to last time I saw my mother–but I tried my hardest never to think about that day.
While I was unconscious, I was transported to the Academy, with no memory of my arrival or who brought me, and where I worked for my living and food until I was old enough to train.
Most didn't realize I’d practically been a slave here, except for some of the teachers as the staff are so often overlooked, just servants to fulfil everyone's needs, not real people, real vampires. They treated us worse than humans, which was saying something.
Now, every mealtime, every laundry day, I made sure to be grateful, not to overlook anyone. It was a small thing, but it was all I could do.
“Barbie can kiss my ass. She's not going to be our Sixth!” Cade growled, and I suddenly remembered where I was and what was happening. Had that been a nightmare within a dream? Dream-ception? Was that even possible?
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Raven muttered after he crunched down on an apple and swallowed, the sinews in his throat working like they would when he’d swallow blood.
Sensation surged inside me, but before I could try and figure out what was happening, something pulled me out of my dream and back to my body.
Cold and wet.
That was how I felt when before, I’d been warm and dry.
What the hell?
Realizing what was happening, I gasped and scrambled to get out of bed, but someone pushed me down and shoved something into my mouth. I blinked my eyes furiously, and found Lily and two of her cohorts staring down at me, perfect little smiles on their faces that were just, oh, so evil. I tried to pull on my magic, to use it to move away from their little group, but nothing happened.
“That's not going to work, not this time,” Lily cooed.
“We spelled the water to sap your magic and strength,” henchwoman number one said, pleased with how clever they were. Maker, I hated Sarah Devigny as much as I hated Lily.
“And it'll make you hungrier than you can possibly imagine,” henchwoman number two interjected with glee, although I was fairly sure she didn't know how close I'd come to starvation as a child, so I wasn't worried about a little hunger. Laura Volkov’s delight in my impending suffering was a sickening sight to behold, though.
Lily muttered, “Idiots,” as she scowled at both of them before turning her attention back to me. “Consider this a warning to stay away from that which is not yours.”
A gust of wind blew me off the bed and had me appearing to stand upright, even though I didn't have my feet on the ground or the ability to move for the most part.
“Strip her,” Lily said, the smirk on her face telling me that she expected me to be mortified.
If she'd been paying attention though, she'd know I wasn't one to shy away from nakedness anymore, if they'd wanted me to do that they should have stopped taking my clothes when I was in the shower.
Sarah grabbed my arms and held them out, while Laura pulled the tank top I had worn to bed up. They forced my arms through the holes and pulled it over my head before pulling down my boxer shorts, leaving me completely exposed. The ball of
what I thought were probably socks in my mouth made it impossible to scream and tell them what heinous bitches they were, all I could do was make grunts at them, which had them making fake pig snorts back at me.
“Open the window,” Lily said, as she kept the wind pushing me in all directions, so I was essentially frozen in place. “Now, be a good little thrall and go fly,” she grated with a grin that twisted her mouth in a snarl. If the brotherhood could see her now, they’d never imagine she was anything other than ugly. Soul deep revolting.
My stomach dropped at her words.
Did she know about my mother? Or was she just trying to insult me?
Either way, I wasn't ready for what happened next.
The wind picked me up and blew me out the window like a small tornado, smacking my head on the edge as I went.
“Oh, by the way,” Lily called out. “You have twenty-four hours to get that spell off your skin before it's permanent. Imagine what you'll have to resort to in order to stay alive, little thrall? Toodles.” Lily waved and her hench-bitches laughed like she'd just told the funniest joke ever.
Before I could begin to fret about whatever the fuck she’d done to me, the tornado spun me away, flinging itself out past the forest, past Academy grounds, and past where I'd spent the last nineteen years of my life.
As much as I hated to class the Academy as such, it was my home, and I hadn't left its grounds since I was first deposited there. The wind didn’t lose momentum, taking me farther and farther still, until I wasn't sure I'd even know how to get back.
The junkyard it touched down in was filthy and messy, much like the junkyards I’d seen on TV when I had a spare moment for mindless entertainment, which wasn't often. The tornado disappeared as abruptly as it had formed, and it slammed me to the ground.
For countless seconds, I was breathless. Utterly winded. But thoughts of what I could be lying in had me rushing to get my breath back under control.
Getting to my feet, eventually, I looked around for something to cover myself with immediately. I was past the safety of Academy grounds, and if a human saw me like this, I could easily be reported to the police and taken into custody for indecent exposure.
The only thing that was important right now was getting back to Westbrook before my twenty-four hours were up. Because, yeah, Lily hadn’t just thought fit to torment me, she’d tried to destroy the only chance I had of getting out of this life—my powers.
Bitch!
Fury swirled with worry inside me. Add to it the burst of adrenaline, the panic at my location, and the worry over what spell she’d used, so I’d know what to do to reverse its powers, I was a mess, and I’d never needed to get myself under control now, more than ever.
Shuddering, I took stock of myself and my surroundings. I had never been more grateful for the cover of night, even with the streetlights and floodlights within the junkyard itself, there was enough shadow for me to conceal myself.
The office was toward the front of the lot and someone had left a set of overalls inside. They were covered in oil stains and paint, along with Maker only knew what else, but it was better than nothing, so after a few attempts I was able to break down the flimsy door and put them on.
At first, they stuck to my still wet body, but then, as the water seemed to soak into them, they turned to ash. The white and gray flakes fluttered down from my form everywhere the water had connected with the material, which made the overalls pretty much useless.
I didn't know what else the spell could do, but maybe if I ran across a stream or lake or something, I could get it off without having to wait until I got back to the Academy. Or was that wishful thinking?
The only thing I could do was run, as fast as I could, for as long as I could, and head back home. I just prayed it would be enough.
My only saving grace was that Lily and her friends didn't realize how powerful I really was. I'd showed some of it to Gideon and Cade, but never to anyone else. Still, my own powers weren’t budging the spelled water the bitches had thrown on me, it still seemed to be running all over my body as though it was impossible for it to drain off. Even though some of it had been soaked up by those nasty overalls before they had disintegrated, it was still enough to cover most of my body. What the hell was it? Like oil or something?
I took off, running in the direction of the Academy and hoping that as I got closer, I would recognize enough of the town from my few shopping trips to get me home safely.
Thankfully, even though I was moving a lot slower than normal, the spell sapping at my usual strength in a way I’d never encountered before, my pace was still faster than anything that could get me caught by the human police.
I just hoped that my luck, as much as this situation could be deemed in anyway ‘lucky,’ continued. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck with no extra speed and still be miles from Westbrook.
* * *
Barclay
“Gideon,” I bit off on a gasp, as a strange sensation welled inside me.
As I processed it, connecting with my wolf to try and understand what was happening, something clicked in my head like a ‘Eureka!’ moment.
I didn’t know where it came from, what even made me think it, but that sensation quickly morphed from an emotional response into belief.
“Is she still in the building?” I demanded, aware there’d been a lengthy gap between my uttering Gid’s name and asking the question.
He frowned at me and, quickly cutting the others a look, he murmured, “How should I know?”
Noticing he hadn’t questioned exactly who I meant, the bullshitter, I lifted a hand and rubbed my eyes.
We’d been sitting in our common room arguing over Marcella for the past two hours.
Not only was I tired, I hadn’t wanted to take part in this argument at all. I’d wanted nothing more than this discussion to be over, until this strange notion regarding Marcella had overcome me.
Maybe it wasn’t totally peculiar when we were all focused on her.
Since he’d gone walking that afternoon, Raven had been enraged by the notion that Cade or Gideon might have compromised the selection process. We all took that to mean he wanted Marcella, and didn’t want any of us to fuck it up for him. That was why there hadn’t been too much shouting. It seemed like we were all on the same page, but when Raven was in a mood like this, we had to let him burn himself out.
For however long Raven mind-walked, he returned to us a changed man. He was often temperamental, and the duration of his attitude varied by the mind-walk. To us, on this realm, he might only have disappeared for thirty seconds, but the memories he walked through, could span days. Which meant, for hours, we were dealing with Mr. Hyde.
It was an exhausting process, one we hoped would improve once we had our Sixth. Time would tell, but it was still exhausting for the five of us to process in the interim.
As my thoughts coalesced, something came to me.
“You can’t tell me you don’t have a lock on her.” I scoffed at the very notion.
Gideon was a control freak, and anyone he considered important enough to be friend or foe, he immediately latched onto with his powers.
Gideon could never be considered predictable, his abilities would never allow him to be, but in certain matters, he did have habits that we could rely on.
He scowled at me, knowing I’d cornered him into a tight spot. But the maneuvering had not been intentional, nor had it been a means of backing up Raven’s argument. I was just uneasy and needed answers, something only he could give me.
“Can shadow weavers—?”
Cade scowled at me. “Not you. too.”
I shook my head, not in the mood for his crappy attitude. I dealt with his disrespect because I understood it. Brothers with shifter heritage were always looked down upon, and I had been raised to expect and accept that. But I was an alpha wolf. There was no avoiding that particular truth, yet Cade evaded it like a jaywalker meandered through traffic. I usually just rolled with
it, but sometimes the man’s arrogance knew no bounds.
Raven was rarely wrong, and just because shadow-weavers were the height of rareness, didn’t mean that Marcella wasn’t one.
Rather than answer him, I told Gideon, “I had a lock on her scent, but I don’t anymore.”
At my words, words that were trusted because my brothers had faith in my abilities, the others stilled. They didn’t question the oddity of my locking on her scent, just questioned why the Maker it had disappeared.
Gideon narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head to the side. “You last scented her where?”
My nostrils flared as I tested the area to give him a more accurate reading. But the answer, when it came, stunned me, too. “Here. In this room.”
Keiran shook his head. “We know that’s impossible, Barclay.”
“No,” I disagreed, “we know it’s against the rules, but not impossible.” In its own crazy way, shit started to make sense. “Not if Raven is correct.”
“Just because she pulled off an illusion spell, and your nose is hypersensitive, doesn’t mean—”
Raven held up a hand, stalling Cade’s words. “How strong is the scent?
“As strong as yours,” I confirmed. Turning to Gideon, I asked, “Can you find her?”
He didn’t bother to reply, just closed his eyes. As we watched on, the various runes covering his body seemed to glow slightly as he called upon the gifts they housed. He let out a hiss. “She’s not on Westbrook grounds. She isn’t even on the outskirts where we found her running, Cade.”
“She doesn’t seem the rebellious sort,” Keiran remarked, brow puckering. “Barbie? I could see her sneaking out to the local town, but Marcella?”
Raven shook his head, but he was in total agreement. “She doesn’t have the money.”
Gideon blew out a breath. “That focus was home-made. You’re right, Raven, there’s no way she has the funds to go partying.”
The local towns close to Eastbrook and Westbrook were forbidden territory to students. . . . Which made them all the more appealing.