Coveted

by Tara K. Young

  Chapter 30

  Bran was motionless on top of me. For a moment, I wondered if he was dead, just like the Bran in my vision. Then he shuddered and I realized he was crying. Even Riley was quiet now. How long had we been silent?

  I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. I had been so stupid. I had created my own hell, refusing to face what was. I had tortured us both and more. With each life, with each decision to run, I had made it worse.

  I finally realized what my ancient self had refused to accept. There was no end for us until we were one again. The gnawing we both felt was the halves of our soul trying to reunite.

  "Bran," I whispered.

  He whimpered into my shoulder as the true cause of a thousand years of searching, fighting, and suffering had been laid bare for us both to witness.

  I stroked his hair and held him. "Bran," I whispered again.

  "I am no better than a demon," he growled into the crook of my neck. "No matter how little I want it, I can do nothing but hurt you. It is what I am; everything you hated so much you denied yourself."

  My mouth was dry. "You are what I made you," I admitted.

  "And now you will run from me again because you hate me. You ran because you didn't want me. You shouldn't want me. It wasn't them. You chose. You chose right and everything I did was for nothing."

  I could not tell him the truth. There was no time. He was pulled off me with such force that his body hit the wall with a loud bang and a crack. He fell to the floor at the feet of Graham. When he tried to stand, Graham kicked him in the face. Bran might have been immortal but was still stunned by the damage to his face. He swayed on the spot before falling over. His next attempt at standing took even longer.

  "Connor, get her," Graham ordered.

  James and Connor pushed past him into the room. James and Graham turned their attention to Bran. I tried to get up but Connor was too fast and the quarters too small. He had me hoisted over his shoulder a second later. He held my legs firmly against him but my arms were free. I wailed against his head as best I could but I might as well have been blowing kisses for all the good it was doing.

  Bran had regained his senses and was trying to throw off Graham and James. James' back hit my doorframe hard but he did not let go. I saw Bran throw his weight to one side but did not see the result as Connor left the room with me still flailing over his shoulder.

  The bangs and crashes that burst from my room indicated it was not going easily for Graham and James. I kept my attention on Connor's ears but he continued to ignore me. I did not give up my fight. I needed to do something. I started screaming at the top of my lungs with every blow.

  My yells seemed to be doing more than my fists. Connor threw me onto the living room floor. Carpet or not, my head hit hard. The pain that burst in my head brought sparkles to my vision.

  "Shut up," Connor yelled down at me.

  There was a growl and bark and Connor was spinning around to fend off Riley who had come running down the hall to enter the fray. Connor picked up my beautiful furry boy and snapped his neck. Riley's limp form fell to the floor.

  "NO!" I screamed. I could not take my eyes off Riley. His tongue hung out of his mouth, his eyes staring at me, unfocused and unblinking. I screamed my grief again.

  Connor turned back to me. He had no concern for what he had just done. He didn't care if I mourned. "Shut up!" He bellowed as he descended upon me.

  The thumps and crashes from the bedroom continued. I was alone. Connor could kill me and by the look in his eyes, he very much wanted to. It was not the assured warrior that burned in Bran's eyes. Connor's warrior was filled with cold menace.

  There was a bang against the front door and in reply I screamed again. Maybe it was Alistair. I could hope. Another immortal warrior might even the odds.

  Connor lifted me up by the shirt and slapped me across the face. "Shut up!" He yelled again.

  There was another bang against the door as he shoved me back to the ground but I was done cowering. I looked him right in the eye and screamed again. Not a scream of fear but of petulant defiance.

  He lunged at me. I swore at him. I balled my hands into fists and prepared to fight no matter how pointless or short lived my effort would be.

  The door burst open. My relief at a possible saviour distracted me. I glanced over to take in a panicked Michael falling into the room just as Connor's hands wrapped around my throat.

  I needed air. It hurt too much. My lungs were being pierced by hundreds of thorns but my throat could not expand. I clawed at his hands. Our eyes locked. There was triumph in his. I glared back with hatred.

  Shock registered on his face and he let go to turn around. I fell limp on the ground, coughing into the carpet as I took in the large kitchen knife that protruded from his back. He chuckled and I saw Michael back away towards the door, looking unsure of the wisdom of what he had just done. But even as he was unsure, he said, "Bet you can't catch me," and ran out the door.

  Connor followed.

  "No," I rasped, as I tried to climb to my feet.

  There was another bang, this time from the hall. Bran had been thrown through the open bedroom door. He hit the doorframe of the bathroom head first. Despite the severe impact, he was already up when Graham entered the hall. Graham's fist swung and Bran caught it. He twisted Graham's wrist as he kicked him in the gut. Graham disappeared through the door from the force.

  Bran did not pursue his enemy but turned to me. The feral animal lessened when he saw me trying to stand. He must have thought I was already dead. He ran to me to help me up. "Let's go," he said but Graham and now James too were already running down the hall.

  Bran let go of me as he spun around to elbow Graham in the face. With another turn, he swung his leg low to sweep James' feet out from under him. Graham was reaching behind his back for something but Bran was too fast. He had grabbed Graham's wrist and bent his arm the wrong way. There was a loud snap and Graham's arm went limp. He reached for Graham, who proved his skill by spinning out of Bran's grasp. Using his unbroken arm, he reached behind his back again.

  I tried to get away from the chaos, but there was too much going on and not enough space to get free of it. Within a second, Graham had his arm wrapped around me and the tip of a blade at my throat. Bran froze in mid-lunge, his eyes wide and unfaltering upon the weapon that threatened. "She was never going to honour our deal, was she?" he said.

  Graham chuckled in my ear. His breath crept down my throat like a large centipede. I had to endure. The sharp tip was too firmly against my skin. I tried to lock my eyes with Bran, to plead with him, but he refused to look away from the dagger. "It's time for my promotion," Graham said low.

  James had recovered and was now trying to grab Bran from behind. Bran spun around to incapacitate his attacker with a headlock. "Let him go," Graham instructed.

  Bran's arms fell to his sides. "I would have honoured our deal," he said, his eyes remaining on the dagger. "I will still honour it. There is no reason to do this. I will return to her just like she asked."

  James stood and pulled Bran's wrists behind his back. There really wasn't any need to restrain him. With me held hostage, Bran was subdued.

  "You know the truth now," Graham said incredulously. "You must realize that the old deal will no longer work. Morrigan likes having you as her warrior. She knew you'd figure out the truth someday."

  Bran's jaw tensed. "That's why she sent you here."

  Graham breathed against my cheek. "More to watch your little dove here. If she ever tried to put her soul back together, it was up to us to stop it. Keeping a close enough eye on her has been difficult with Freyja's damn cats around. Those stupid animals just wouldn't quit. But now we can finish up business. Morrigan will be very happy about that."

  Bran was clenching and unclenching his fists. "Why didn't Morrigan just kill her outright?"

  I could feel Graham shrug against my back. "Think she found the fervour of your search useful. Af
ter all, how many did you kill without complaint just thinking it would bring your closer to your dove?" There was a sick humour in his voice. "Of course, I don't really need to use this. I could just kill her like any old human. It took you a thousand years to find her this time but Morrigan's not taking any chances anymore. That's why she made sure you brought this to us."

  Now I realized which blade it was, the only one that could kill an immortal because it destroyed the soul. My heart rammed against my rib cage in a desperate escape attempt. The traitor would leave me behind. My cheeks were wet. I wanted to hyperventilate but I had to force shallow breaths to keep the point of the talon from digging into my flesh.

  Bran's eyes were still on it. I didn't want them on that stupid dagger. I wanted them on mine. I needed him to look at me. I needed to know he could fix this and even if he couldn't, that I could at least see those beautiful spirals before I died. I needed him to know how sorry I was.

  Connor flew through the doorway—literally soared—before crashing against the opposite wall. Bran took advantage of the distraction and elbowed James in the face. Without thinking, I elbowed Graham in the gut, which did not have much effect but was just enough to remove the pressure of the blade against my throat. I stretched my chin up and went limp so that I slipped like an eel out of his grasp. He was fast and already grabbing me around the waist before I could get away but then his grip gave way and I fell to the floor.

  Alistair was standing above me. He had punched Graham in the face and Graham was now reeling backwards trying to regain his balance. Morrigan's Blade had fallen from his hand and embedded itself, point down, in the carpet next to Alistair's foot. Alistair lunged for Graham, seemingly unaware of how close he had come to having his foot impaled by the only weapon that could down him.

  There was a large bang as Bran swung James around and threw him into the wall. There was the thumping sound of flesh hitting bodies. Michael had returned and was still trying to keep Connor distracted. With his lack of muscle or skill, he was faring poorly against his opponent. Blood poured from his nose.

  Alistair was toughening his fists on Graham's face. Graham did not look like some intimidating immortal warrior now. He was as limp as a sack of beans. I could now see why Alistair had been such a struggle for Bran to deal with. He might not be Morrigan's warrior but he was still powerful.

  There was another thump against flesh. Michael had been hit hard. Connor would kill him. Bran and Alistair were too occupied. Michael lacked the skill. He needed help.

  Morrigan's Blade remained unnoticed in the floor in the middle of the room. I looked at Michael. Connor grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him into a sleeper hold.

  I grabbed the blade and sprinted two long strides toward them. Connor hadn't expected me. He reacted too late. I sunk the blade into his neck and he crumpled to the floor. Michael was too injured and was easily pulled down too. The whole time I kept the blade firmly in Connor's neck as I fell to my knees with them.

  My fingers were still wrapped around the handle but the second what had happened computed in my brain, I pulled them back, shaking.

  Michael's face was swelling fast but he forced a smiled. "Thanks, Lu." His eyes shut.

  Bran was still struggling with James, who was putting up a better fight than I would have expected. I reached down and grabbed the dagger from Connor's neck and jumped to my feet. When Bran kicked James hard in the stomach so that he fell back onto the couch, I called Bran's name. He looked at me just long enough to see the weapon I held out for him. He took it and implanted it deep into James' gut just below the diaphragm.

  There was a crash. I spun around to see both Graham and Alistair still struggling. Graham had managed to pull free of Alistair, who was then thrown into the television with a crash. He was already regaining his balance but Graham was descending upon him again.

  Bran lunged into the fray and a moment later, Graham's lifeless form was sprawled on the floor, the dagger protruding from his side.

  "I never thought I would be thanking you," Alistair panted as he straightened and brushed himself off.

  "You're welcome," Bran grunted. He looked down at the bodies that strewn the room. "Morrigan is not going to be happy about this."

  Alistair laughed. "She's never happy about anything. Besides, are you actually worrying about your employment?"

  Bran grimaced. "No, her revenge."

  Alistair shrugged. "Not a problem, once you're a whole soul again."

  Glaring at him, Bran growled. "You think she'll leave Lucina alone after this?"

  A slow smile spread across his face, "I'm not bothered. If you're her best , I think Morrigan's losing her touch."

  Bran scowled.

  Roghan slapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, what else am I going to do with the rest of my endless life? I might as well keep my vow to serve as protector."

  As they bantered, I lowered myself next to Riley. I lifted his soft body in my arms. It was odd. It didn't feel like him. It wasn't the warm, stiff tonne of bricks I was used to. It was a limp, fluid mass, a cold, fragile vessel. He had been broken.

  My little drool machine, my saintly senior, he had been murdered trying to protect me. I brought only violence and death wherever I went, no matter what I wanted.

  His eyes remained wide and unblinking. I couldn't look. I buried my face in his fur. I apologized silently over and over. I was the reason he was dead. I shook violently and pressed my face even more deeply into him. My sweet, perfect Riley, the one who was always there for a good scritch and had perfected hogging the bed, the one who tried and failed to snatch flies out of the air on sunny days. I wasn't worth his sacrifice.