Blood Awakens

by Jessaca Willis

  Graciela shook the thoughts from her mind. This was the right choice. She’d just saved at least one life, possibly others. But that one life alone—her brother’s—made it more than worth it.

  It was for this reason that her fear left her mystified.

  The rope grating at her wrists gave a tug again. “For someone walking to their death, you sure are quiet.”

  A singular tear slid from her eye. Ice cold, just like she anticipated the end to be. Graciela brought her face to her shoulder in an attempt to wipe clean the shame. She didn’t want to be afraid. She wanted to be brave. To be strong. For Hope and everyone there.

  “Don’t stop on my account, dolly. I imagine knowing you’re about to die is a devastatingly depressing experience to have.” Zane tweaked his neck and came so close that the world stilled. His next words were as chilling as his icy eyes. “You’re deep in thought, but let me make sure you’re contemplating the right things. I don’t want you getting it in your head that there’s another way this ends. Tonight you die. You don’t escape like a coward or kill me in some heroic feat. And you certainly don’t convince me to spare your pathetic life. Tonight, we will drain every last drop of blood from your body until you run cold. You’ll black out long before then, but before you do, there will be pain. You’ll scream. You’ll cry. So do whatever you have to do now to make peace with that.”

  “Why haven’t you killed me yet then?”

  “Why?” He spun on his heel to face her, bringing the pace of the group to an abrupt halt. “Wishing you were dead already?”

  They’d been walking for at least twenty minutes already. When they’d left Hope, she thought for sure he’d slit her throat at the gate and drink her blood then and there, tossing aside her carcass as a reminder for Sean not to cross him. When that hadn’t been his first order of action, she couldn’t help but be concerned. It meant there was more to it, that there was a greater purpose to it all. And Graciela didn’t like not knowing what.

  His gaze pierced through her so fiercely, she lost her breath for a moment, only regaining it when he finally looked away. But the image of his eyes was seared into memory. Two snowflakes in an arctic tundra, death looming within. “Unfortunately for you, you’re special.” A deep inhale broadened his nostrils. He turned back to Graciela, eyes alit. “Someone as rare as you, we wouldn’t normally butcher so hastily.”

  She almost laughed. There was nothing special about her. As far as Graciela could tell, she was about as normal as anyone could be these days.

  “You’re right. We wouldn’t.” It was Bram’s bark coming from somewhere inside the crowd that drew her attention, Zane’s as well. “So why the sudden change in plans?”

  Zane tightened his grip on the rope, yanking Graciela forward. From where she marched, Graciela couldn’t see Bram among the others, and had only remembered he was there once he’d spoken. Something told her, this time, he wouldn’t be able to save her. He had warned her not to cross paths with Zane again.

  “Don’t embarrass yourself, boy. You of all people know exactly why. Because of your own impulsive selfishness. You’ve forced my hand in this. This young woman could’ve kept us powered for weeks, but because you felt like the rules didn’t apply to you, I now have to teach lessons. Your choices impacted us all. You let her go free, directly disobeying an order. Now none of us get the privilege of feeding directly from this delightful treat.”

  There it was again, the implication that her blood was different than others. Could it be her blood type? She was O-, one of the most sought-out blood types in the world. For all Graciela knew, blood to the Sanguinatores was like wine and they each had their preference.

  “Setting your ego aside,” Bram continued. “Isn’t preserving her blood more important than making a point or teaching me a lesson? Won’t we need it later?”

  “Nice try, but the woman still dies. But obviously, we will be draining her. Why do you think I haven’t killed her already? I’m not really one for prolonged goodbyes, but I do enjoy having my cake and eating it too. We wait until we return to camp, to preserve what we can with the extraction device, then we get to keep her blood, and I still get to make my point. Won’t be the same as fresh blood—no thanks to you—but it’ll be better than not having it at all.”

  The words extraction device chilled Graciela to the bone.

  Bram’s mouth opened, but Zane cut him off. “Consider the implications of taking this conversation further. Punishment awaits you already.”

  Bram cast Graciela a sidelong glance before disappearing back into the herd. Most people might blame him, lash out as he retreated into his shell, but Graciela felt no ill will toward him. She’d witnessed his attempts at saving her life and knew he’d done everything he could. In fact, if anything, she felt sorry for him, being caught up in a world that clearly conflicted with his own morals and ethics. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like, to walk on eggshells, to have to bite his tongue as often as Graciela imagined he’d have to.

  One more reason Graciela was grateful for Hope. If she were to meet her maker, at least she could rest easy knowing that Santiago was somewhere safe, where he was surrounded by trustworthy people, where he could hopefully find purpose and meaning again.

  “Let’s not keep everyone waiting. Welcome to your final resting place, dolly.”

  What at first were just flickers of light centered in the dark expanse as they trekked, slowly grew to sparks, and then embers, into balls and bundles of flames and campfires, until a whole town lit itself into view. Not overly crowded by any standards; Graciela guessed most of the people residing there had accompanied Zane on his abduction mission to Hope. Still, there were a few shadowed faces, men and women of sufficient stature, mulling about in the late hours of the evening.

  “Fintan, check in with the boys that went for a scout. See if they located any other shards of—” Once again, Zane jerked her leash, a reminder of her lack of free will and waning lifespan. “Keep up. You and I are going this way.”

  The campground was no Hope. With only temporary dwellings up, like tents and makeshift hovels, it was easy to tell how transient the Sanguinatores had been and planned to continue being. It was a small relief, knowing they’d soon be packing up their things and moving on again.

  It didn’t take long for them to arrive to the tent Zane spoke of, a dull gray vinyl structure, timeworn yet still sturdy. Even before she entered, Graciela felt the surge of power from inside. Her body went rigid. The suspense of what he had in store for her was almost too much to think about, but think about it she did. On loop. A gauntlet of brutal deaths had her on her toes.

  As Zane dragged her inside the tent and closer toward her doom, her eyes shot wide. Never before had she seen such a contraption. Metal glistened over wood. Tubes bubbled with red sludge inside, the thickness of mercury. Only Graciela doubted it was mercury. The way it frothed and slushed in the giant vials, she had no doubt it was blood. She was used to seeing blood in vials, what with her employment at the hospital. But this was different. Gallon upon gallon of red was stacked against each wall, aligned in crates as high as the ceiling. Each one had a label, none of which she could read from the far end of the room, but she knew what they’d say regardless, descriptors of the lives they’d taken: female, male, Unawakened, Awakened. And each one represented an entire person, sluffed to nothing more than a jar of food.

  When she saw the wooden contraption of bars and straps, reality sunk in. It felt like she was choking on gauze. Graciela couldn’t breathe, tears pooling in her eyes as she contemplated what it would feel like to be completely drained of blood while still conscious. The agony of her first experience with Bram came to mind. She tried imagining pain worse than that. Even though she fell short, she somehow knew it was possible, and that scared her all the more.

  Up until now, Graciela had been obliging. She’d left Hope willingly, hoping to spare her friends and family. At the time, she’d promised herself she would go without struggle
, without protest. For them, she would be strong.

  But now she felt her legs locking. The rope around her wrists went taut. “No, no, no—”

  Forcefully, Zane tugged at the other end, lurching Graciela forward and into his solid arms. “What’s the matter? Finally realizing what I meant when I said you would die here?”

  Graciela couldn’t answer. Between the tears and the stifled cries, amid the crashing reality, her thoughts were frozen in time. But not her body. While her thoughts slept, the rest of her thrashed into awakening. Graciela stomped and kicked and tugged with all of her strength.

  For a solid three seconds.

  Before the whistling started.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sean

  Strategically, Carson and the other empath led the group over and under the terrain, atop small peaks and through hollows in the rock, with nothing to rely on but the instincts of their empathic power.

  Sean remembered the dark days of hating himself. Like most of the freshly Awakened, he didn’t understand nor trust who he had become, thinking his newly discovered abilities were trivial at best and monstrous at worst. But now look at them, a unified front, Awakened and Unawakened alike, scourging the land together to ensure each other’s safety. To find Graciela, an Unawakened woman, and rescue her before it was too late.

  Sean didn’t like that it had come to this. He didn’t revel in ending lives, but if the events of the day had taught him anything, it was that it was a necessary plan of action. It was the only way to keep his people safe, to keep them alive. They’d let the Sanguinatores go once and they’d followed them across the country for vengeance.

  Not again.

  Silently, he mouthed the prayer that always gave him comfort. “Today will be filled with the light and peace I bring to it. I control my happiness. The blood does not have the power, I do.”

  Suddenly, the wind overhead changed, and a swooshing noise caused Sean to duck.

  “Head Sentient T.” Though Sean couldn’t see the man that had landed beside him, he recognized the gruff edge of Raul’s voice, one of Hope’s two dragons, and one of their four dedicated utorian guards. With the Tri-Lunar festivities, all the guards had been asked to work partial shifts at the utorian site. Raul’s shift must’ve fallen earlier in the morning for him to be with them. “There’s fire up ahead,” he informed them. “Possibly a settlement.”

  Carson agreed over his shoulder. “I can sense them. We’re getting close now.”

  Everything went quiet within Sean, aside from his rampant heart. This was the moment they’d all been waiting for, and despite having a plan, Sean was still terrified out of his mind by what outcome lay before them. “How far?”

  “Give or take two kilometers. It looks like they might be tucked away in a canyon or between walls of rock or something. Makes sense why we couldn’t see them sooner.”

  Sean nodded. “Everyone, make sure you’re ready. It won’t be long now before we’re within their range. I want you protected when we cross that threshold.”

  “No doubt. I’ll tell the others in the air.”

  At Raul’s departure, wind gusted over the stubble on Sean’s normally shaved head. He could hear the rest of the group doing their part as well, fumbling for the weapons they’d stashed in their belts, bags, and other spots.

  “Listen up.” Sean plunged his hand into the pocket at his hip. A smooth gem waited patiently for him within. “I want our best hand-to-hand fighters up front. We only get one shot at an ambush so let’s make it count. The rest of you, keep those weapons close by. You’ll most certainly need them before the night’s over.”

  Cutting across the open desert, the group made their way to an opening in the rock floor. From atop the cliff from where they stood, Sean could now easily discern canopies and bonfires. It was nowhere near the amount present at Hope, which was good. The smaller the community was, the better their odds were of walking away from this at least partially intact.

  Sean lead the descent to the base of the cliff and then watched as his eyes adjusted to the fire glow, as the rest of his compatriots worked their way down with equal haste and finessed precision. This was what training was for, and fortunately they’d had the best trainer. Even if Mara couldn’t be with them, Sean felt her presence through each member of Hope that had come. Each movement was a direct result of the impact she had on them all. He rested easy knowing that she’d guide them to victory.

  One by one they descended into the ravine. Sean fretted as each person dropped the final few yards, landing with an inaudible thud, but one that made his ears bleed nonetheless. The last thing they needed was to be spotted before the full team was ready.

  “We should split up,” Ryka mouthed, flames reflecting under her chin and cheekbones. “Cover more ground—”

  “No. We split up, and we weaken our force. This plan only works if we take them on together. There’s more of us than there are of them.”

  She looked displeased, but only said, “Then I suggest we use that wedge of cliff over there to our advantage. Try backing them in.”

  The spot she referred to was near impossible to miss. It was where two rugged walls of rock converged on the northern side of the encampment. It wasn’t a bad idea, just unnecessary. At best, a backup plan should things go south.

  “I hope to get this finished long before we have to back them into a corner,” Sean admitted.

  A sparkle caught his eye, and Sean noticed Ryka twisting the earring, iridescent as the starry night. He resisted the impulsive urge to twist at his as well, which was only easily ignored because of the nearby Sanguinatores he noticed walking toward their direction, still unaware of their presence.

  There was no way of telling if Zane and his men had arrived yet, nor if they’d brought Graciela all the way there. A small voice clawing at the back of his thoughts told him that he knew better. Zane didn’t strike him as the postponing-satisfaction kind of guy. If he’d had the chance, and if he’d really wanted it, he would’ve killed Graciela long ago.

  Sean adjusted his waistline with a twist. There was only one way to know for sure though and only one strategy if they ever hoped to see her again.

  Just a few structures away, a group of people converged—guards judging by the looks of them—surrounding what appeared to be a small farm-like space. It wasn’t animals Sean found shambling within the fence line though, but people. Wide-eyed, hollowed faces bleached with near-emptied veins scrambled to their feet as the group of Sanguinatores approached. He could only assume they saw what he saw: a cackle of ravenous hyenas come to feast.

  Sean clenched his fist, Ryka doing the same when she spotted them as well. “Come on. There’s no time to waste,” he said, waving Ryka alongside him, confident the others were following close behind.

  Part of him knew it was reckless. The other part recognized that if they didn’t act, more lives would be taken, or at the very least tormented. If Zane and his people weren’t back yet, then this gave Sean and the Waves a head start. If they were, then the chaos that was about to ensue might serve as a distraction and call Zane forth sooner rather than later.

  One of the Sanguinatores opened the corral. The string of shackled slaves inside shrunk into a tight ball of limbs, to hide, to flee. His first thought was to search for Graciela among them, but on sight he could tell that every one of them had been living in their own filth for weeks. No one was clean enough to be Graciela, nor could he find her honey-brown eyes among theirs.

  No longer did Sean care to hold the silence. With a resonant boom, he called out. “For the people of Surviving and Thriving! For all the others who were lost in this war. Today we stand and fight for them all!”

  One by one the guards turned to search for the source of the declaration.

  It wasn’t until he locked eyes with the one who’d opened the corral that he let himself yell, “For Hope!”

  Everyone at his back echoed the words and charged.

  The same instant t
hey were spotted, Sean felt the buzzing of a Sanguinatore’s power prickling the hair on his arms and neck. For a second, he feared his estimation had been wrong, that the inserts didn’t stifle their power. It was the quick exchange of glances though that reasserted his certainty.

  A Sanguinatore growled, “What’s going on here?”

  “There’s no blood to call!” another of them shrieked irritably.

  Sean reached the group first. His machete cleaved through one of the men’s arms before the man had time to react. Continuing the motion, Sean spun the blade behind his back with an upward strike and hacked into the nearby neck of a woman. Their cries varied, his, a high-pitched wail like a siren, and hers, a series of short coughs and sputters.

  At the same time Sean whirled on the third, a dagger caught the young Sanguinatore in the eye. Red froth pooled forth from behind his lips before the young man fell limply to the ground. Over his shoulder, Sean glimpsed Carson just as he projectiled a twin of the first blade into another man’s stomach. Before the man had time to retaliate, Ryka submerged both of her daggers into him, one just above the collarbone, the other into the rib cage. Sean heard them thump against bone as they slid in.

  Pointlessly, the final Sanguinatore roared. One man against a herd of trained, vengeful, mostly Awakened soldiers. Sean readied his machete for the final blow. But as he charged in, one of the roiders stepped forward, a crimson cougar with the kill in her feline eyes. Despite the USTOTA insert in her ear, the woman, like all the roiders, remained stacked and lethal beyond comprehension.

  No weapon in hand and unable to call on his power, the lone Sanguinatore swung a fist. The roider stopped it midair, catching the man’s wrist. Dumbfounded, seething with more anger by the second, the man swung again with his other arm. The woman played the man like an accordion, ripping his arms clean off. As he stood their shrieking, the powerful roider landed a killing blow with just her bared fist to the center of his face.

  Sean turned away, sufficiently disgusted, and acted as if he were searching the encampment. This was the way it had to be. He knew that. He didn’t have to feel good about it though. As it were, he felt his stomach curdling inside. It left him thankful for USTOTA. Given all the blood, he might otherwise find himself slightly crazed instead.