Bad Blood: Bad Duology Book One

by Colt, Shyla

  “Is this Hogwarts and today is my first day?” Keeta asked as they walked into the library.

  “This is where we’ll be when we aren’t training,” he replied, ignoring her tone.

  “Why?”

  “As you mentioned, we don’t know what the actual spell was, or how to fix what’s wrong. We’ve amassed everything we could on our history. Some were rumors and legends, but in each, we expected there to be a grain of truth.”

  She cast her gaze around the room. “And you expect me to sift through all of this?”

  “I’ll be assisting you. We’re in this together.” He walked over to the section they’d dedicated to their mission.

  She laughed. “You expect me to start now?”

  “I warned you in the plane we’d begin immediately.”

  “Listen, Robo Cop. I’m a human. I need food, and if you want me to function after everything that happened a hot shower, clean clothes, and coffee. You don’t want to see me without coffee.” She crossed her arms, and her magic crackled definitely around her. Her green eyes darkened.

  He paused. “I’ve been in the company of my own kind a long time. Perhaps I’ve forgotten the way of things with your people.”

  “Uh, yeah. Your manners leave much to be desired.”

  “Careful witch,” he growled, his eyes briefly flashing red.

  “Or what? You need me.”

  “We can make this a miserable experience or a tolerable one,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Do you mean I can bow down to you or retain some sense of who I was?” She tilted her head. “Because I choose me every time.”

  “I am trying to be nice to you.”

  “This is you trying to be nice? You must be a real piece of work then.”

  Her words hit their target. He was handling this all wrong. He paused, and put a chokehold on the beast inside, ready to respond to her challenge.

  There was no time to persuade her to believe the truth. The only thing keeping her from jumping ship were the wards impeding her inability to access her powers. He had to change that, quickly. Back when he was alive, things were simple. He worked for the highest bidder, pledging loyalty to no one, and bedding wenches when the need arose. That’s why you landed in this position forever seeking penance.

  He never believed in the spiritual, had counted on going into the ground, and turning back to dust when he was killed. Thinking of the atrocities he’d committed, what he’d seen and done since that time, he snorted. Life was hell on Earth. Talk about a kick to the bullocks. Not a day went by that he didn’t wonder about the fate of his soul.

  By nature, he needed the life-giving substance from another to survive. Surely there could be no place in heaven for him. Dante’s Inferno flickered in his mind.

  Blokes these days don’t know how easy they have it. The horrific words and pictures rattling around in his brain would scar them for life. The watered-down biblical teaching and right to choose still boggled his mind, and yet, they took it for granted. He often wondered what it’d be like to grow up in this time, free from all of the old teachings, expectations, and daily struggles to survive. Now is not the time to get philosophical. You can take the man out of the Renaissance—but you can’t take the Renaissance out of the man.

  “I am not used to dealing with humans in this capacity.”

  “Have you forgotten you used to be one?” She countered, narrowing her gaze. “Because that lame answer is not gaining any sympathy from me. You think this is difficult for you?” She grabbed the curly black locks that tumbled down her back and tugged. “I don’t even recognize myself. I refuse to do anything else until I’ve had a moment to myself.”

  “Do you understand what’s at stake?”

  “I can’t help anyone else if I’m drowning.” The wards wavered under her burst of power. She frowned. “What is this?”

  “Wards to keep you from overexerting yourself.”

  “How is this going to help me?”

  He shrugged one shoulder casually, as if this were an everyday conversation. “They will lessen in time. It’s a way to keep you from hurting yourself.”

  “And you, right? Don’t leave that out.”

  Her arrogance angered him. “I am not so easily injured. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Balling his fists, he averted his gaze before the witch could see she got under his skin. “You want your time to collect yourself? Fine. Let me show you to your room.” He spun around with the precision of a soldier and strode down the hall. The slap of her flat feet on the stone as she rushed to keep up with his pace made him smirk. He might have to play nice, but there was no need to placate her at every turn. He was a knight used to running things. He gave a command and expected it to be followed, not sassed and questioned. Her bravery could be seen as admirable if it didn’t hinder his main objective.

  “How am I supposed to remember my way back here? This place is like the Malfoy manor. I need a map or breadcrumbs.”

  “We share a bond. If I allow it, you have access to my memories.”

  “What kind of Sci-fi crap is this?” she asked. The panic in her voice was clear.

  “You’re a witch. Your will remains your own. I can’t treat you like a puppet if that’s what you’re worried about. Think of the link as a bridge between us.” He touched her mental barrier and stopped. Respect meant asking. Pushing down his ire, he slowed his pace and looked down at her. “Allow me?”

  “Okay.” She twisted her fingers nervously.

  Slipping through her barriers, he shared the castle layout.

  “Oh.” Her full red lips parted with a shaky sigh, and his mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. Even swimming in his clothes, she was gorgeous with her coarse curls, bright green eyes, and a delicate heart-shaped face. A beautiful bronze maiden with curves he shouldn’t notice and a warmth he hadn’t experienced in a long time. People had a feel about them and he all but drowned in the bright light and heat she gave off.

  Feeling like a voyeur, he cast his gaze downward and cleared his throat. “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He nodded and continued to her room. Decorated in shades of pale green with a modernized bathroom en suite it was spacious and feminine … and close enough to his rooms to keep an eye on her, but far enough away to give her a semblance of privacy. Like a prickly cactus, if he held her too tightly, she bit back.

  “You asked for time. I’ll grant you that. We’ll readjourn in the dining room in three hours. Tomorrow we’ll begin training.”

  Her gaze bored into him, but he refused to meet her stare. She’d be no good to him closed off and cranky. They meshed like oil and water. He could do this to keep the peace.

  Stopping in front of her quarters, he gave a slight bow. “You’ll find everything you need inside.”

  She turned to speak, and he used his speed to escape her words, her scent, and her humanity. With every action, she showed him how far he’d drifted from being human. The ground brought back memories he’d stored in the back of his brain for a reason. He’d been a feral animal when Dregan first brought him here in a metal cage. Despite his best efforts, he fell down a rabbit hole and landed at the beginning of his rebirth.

  PAST

  The holy water laced rungs burned his hands. He stumbled back from the bar, staring down at his blisters and burned skin.

  “You will not act like as a savage here. Being turned on a battlefield with the stench of blood and death in the air would’ve driven any new fledgling into bloodlust. We won’t hold that against you. However, if you can’t get a hold of yourself, we will execute you. You understand what I am saying?”

  Crewe snarled at the large, blond Viking with a long, wheat-colored braid and beard to match. Two braids stood out against his long beard. His brilliant blue gaze held a hint of battle lust he knew all too well as a mercenary knight. The authority sliced through the never-ending hunger.

  “I’m hungry.” His voice was garbled
, guttural

  “And you’ll continue to be. There’s nothing that completely slakes the thirst.”

  He clutched his stomach, rocking back and forth as the stabbing pains grew worse.

  “You’ll weather this, or go insane trying. There’s nothing more anyone can do. It’s up to you now whether you live or die. I saw you on the battlefield in action. Your reputation precedes you. You’ve the heart of a fighter. Use that to defeat the hunger.” With that, they’d retreated, taking the light from the torches with him. The pain increased, and he curled into a ball. Moisture coated him. He touched his skin and came away with blood.

  He could no longer sweat, yet he could do this? What kind of fiend from hell have I become? Is this my punishment for all of the death I brought in wars waged? His stomach clenched and he shook like a man with a fever. Rolling onto his stomach, he expelled a red river. The metallic scent enraged him. He lapped at the puddle only to oust it again. Disgusted, he pushed himself away from the area and crawled toward the other side of the cage. Convulsing, he watched the ghosts of his enemy fill the space, sneering down as he relived the killing blows he’d dealt. Shame kicked in as his life played in front of him. He spent a lifetime chasing coin and never helped anyone for no gain. He lent his lances to any cause that gained him profit. It was a soulless existence. Perhaps this was his punishment.

  Time blurred. A brilliant light drew his attention to the opposite side of his stone prison. The light sped closer, pausing just outside of the cage. He squinted, and the light dimmed, revealing a woman. White wings stretched out behind her. Sleek, black hair tumbled to her waist. She carried a large broadsword and wore a shiny metal helmet.

  “You were chosen for greater things, young warrior. Agree to fulfill a mission, and I will take away your pain.”

  “Anything,” he croaked.

  “Now is not the time. You will know when.” She knelt beside his cage and touched him with icy hands that soothed his broken mind as he eased into a blissful unawareness.

  PRESENT

  For centuries he’d believed the woman to be a hallucination. Now he wasn’t sure. Was this what he’d agreed to? Time wasn’t on their side, and she made no attempt to hide her dislike for him, nor he for her. They didn’t have time for this pettiness. He could feel the urgency pressing in on him. Things wouldn’t remain stable for much longer. Returning to the dungeon, he stood in the spot where he woke a new person, with a new purpose. Dregan taught him everything he knew. Raised him like a father would a son and gave him a reason to live—keeping the law and maintaining the secrecy that kept them all safe.

  He couldn’t fail him, or his people. This was his chance to right the wrongs he’d done in his lifetime. Then maybe he could die in peace. He’d seen too much death and experienced the passing of time far beyond his years. He went from horses to airplanes, and candlelight to electricity, and watched everyone he knew die along with their seed until he could no longer stand to watch over his own bloodline. There was nothing so bad as truly knowing you didn’t belong. Languages, mannerisms, and society at large were vastly changed, and he was tired of fighting. This was his swan song.

  Chapter Four

  KEETA

  She knew this cave. A chill settled over her skin and she rubbed her arms as she spun in a circle, taking in the rough walls lit by the flickering flames of the fire. Why am I back here? A lonely howl rended the air. Spinning around, she saw the large, gray wolf slink inside of the mouth of the cave. Tense, she waited. The wolf turned into the Native American Skin Walker with a gray pelt draped over his shoulders. Today he wore only a loincloth and moccasins. His skin glistened with sweat, and his dark hair was pulled back in a single braid.

  “Why am I here?” she asked, softly.

  “To see. The Nations must come together.”

  “The Native American Tribes?”

  “No. The wolf, the vampire, and the witches.” He stepped closer, and she took a step back. He had an oily, dark aura. As if the things he’d dabbled in lingered.

  “Here you are not in control.” He grabbed her wrist. “You will see and then you’ll understand.” Gripping her chin, he forced her mouth open, then opened his mouth. She struggled against his iron grasp. Red smoke rolled from between his lips and into hers. The taste of ashes, wood, and blood flooded her mouth. She gagged as she swallowed the mixture down and he released her. The room spun. She swayed on her feet. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her stomach turned.

  “Sit down. The vision will come to you soon.” Her knees weakened, and she landed heavily on her butt on the ground. He began to chant, throwing sage leaves on the fire as he poured water onto heated stones, causing steam. The smoke filled her lungs, stung her eyes, and made her sluggish. The background fell away, and she landed headlong into a vision.

  She stood in the background, a shadow no one else noticed in the clearing. The people shed their crude clothing. Doeskin breeches and dresses with fringe. Once nude, their bodies began to contort. She cried out as bones cracked, and backs bent at unnatural angles. Their faces elongated as they grew muzzles. Hair sprouted out of pores and their forms twisted and changed. A large wolf threw back its head and released a howl. The others joined. The alpha. His eyes were a deep amber. He stood proudly as the others rested on their belly, always keeping their heads lower than him as they peered up at him with respect and adulation.

  He lifted his muzzle in the air. His black nose twitched from left to right, and he released a low growl that made her want to pee her pants. The wolf’s hackles rose, and his people flanked him, ready for his command. She took a step back in response to his aggression. A familiar gray wolf padded into the wooded area. No. The white wolf stood his ground; ears back, body tense. The gray wolf sprang forward. The white wolf batted him away with a powerful paw.

  The gray wolf recovered quickly, nipping at the white wolf’s flank. They tumbled onto the ground, biting and tussling as each attempted to assert dominance. They moved to their hind legs, exchanging blows as they struck at each other’s throats. Blood coated the white wolf’s pelt. She couldn’t tell whom it belonged to. A whimper rung out in the clearing. The gray wolf had latched onto the white wolf’s throat. He shook him back and forth like a rag doll. Crimson spread along his fur. The dying wolf was tossed to the ground, and the gray wolf stalked to him. Burying his muzzle into the white wolf’s chest, he dug through the flesh and devoured his heart. The darkened muzzle was washed red in the moonlight.

  “Oh, God.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  The pack lowered their bodies in submission, and the gray wolf’s eyes glinted a sickly yellow. The howl he unleashed sounded more like a roar that disturbed the forest and made the ground quake beneath them. The unearthly sound sent the creatures in the surrounding area running, and put an ache in her gut.

  Nature itself protested the imbalance. Clouds blotted out the full moon. A crack of thunder proceeded lighting that downed a tree nearby. The wind howled, shaking the branches, stirring up leaves, and making the wolves antsy. The sky broke, and hail beat down, sending the wolves running off in search of shelter from the baseball-sized hail. She locked eyes with the gray wolf, and for a moment their minds merged. She gagged on the metallic taste of blood and the lust for power. She woke choking on the memory of the blood coating her mouth.

  Throwing the covers off her bed, she breathed heavily. The hunger for flesh lingered. Disgusted mentally, but unable to retain control of her body, she sniffed. A delectable scent filled her nostrils. Her stomach growled. She rose from the bed, tracking the aroma. Moving out of her room and down the hall, she made her way into the opposite wing. Breathing heavily, she leaned toward the wooden door that barred her from the prize. The door swung, and she stepped inside, walking past Crewe to reach the source. A glass of burgundy liquid rested on the table in front of the window. She paused, running her finger around the rim. The high-pitched tone soothed her.

  “Nakeeta?”

  She glanced at t
he shirtless vampire, licking her lips as she admired the sculpted masterpiece molted with scars.

  “What are you doing?”

  She returned her attention to the glass. “What is this? It smells delicious.” Grasping the stem, she lifted it to the moonlight, swirling it to release the aroma. Unable to resist, she brought the glass to her lips. The thick, cool substance coated her mouth and slid down her throat. Licking the stray drops from her lips, she froze. “Oh my God. What did I just do?” Dropping the empty glass, she trembled as her body grew hot. Her body lifted from the ground and jerked. She gave under the weight of the pressure building.

  She woke among shards of glass on the ground. Slivers of glass bit into her skin. Crewe knelt in a defensive position. Distended fangs hung past his lips and dripped blood. Her throat stung. She brought her palm up, shocked when she felt a wet, warm substance. Pulling it away, she spotted blood.

  “What happened?”

  “You were in a trance. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I didn’t snap you out of it,” he growled.

  “So, you bite me?”

  “Be happy I didn’t break your neck. You flung me across the room with no warning. What triggered that?”

  “A dream. No … a vision.”

  “About?”

  “How the spell was weakened.” She launched into the dream, and he listened intently.

  “So the Skinwalker wanted more power, and he garnered it by any means necessary.”

  “Greed is always the downfall of those who seek power.” This is where my own weakness comes from. It’s in my blood. She’d ingested blood, a life-giving substance taken from who knew where. What did it mean for her magic, or hell her soul? The glass rattled against the stone floor.

  “Calm down.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.”

  Furious, she directed her anger toward the stoic vampire who’d risen to his feet. He flew against the wall, landing with a sickening crack. Eyes red, he charged a blur at the top speed. She blinked and found herself beside the exit.