“Oh, that. Then my people need to get over it,” she replied.
“Oh, they want you for the asset you are, just as I do, even if you are a disappointment. Regardless of your presentation, the Maker’s Shadow will be pleased we found you. When I awake tomorrow, I will have your gift as my own.”
“Yeah, I don’t want House Rowan either, but what’s a girl to do?” Becka squirmed under his touch, the feel of his tongue against her skin made her shudder. She strained against her bonds, but her only free movement was in her feet and free arm, and Woden held her wrist firm. “Who’s this Maker’s Shadow, anyway?”
“She is ageless and has lived lifetimes. She will redefine what is possible for you.”
“Are you taking me to her?”
“It will be some time before you are invited to meet her, if ever,” he answered, avoiding her question. “We in the Shadows have survived this long by living in near-absolute secrecy. Our plans span decades. Lifetimes, even.”
At least it sounded like he planned for her to live, if only for his cadre of blood-drinkers to feast on her. “How old are you?”
“Oh yes, we have awaited you, and your foretold incomparable powers, for hundreds of years. I am not old yet, but now, with your blood, I will live forever.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“According to prophecy, your blood contains the key to our immortality. With you we can regain the powers and talents of our ancestors. We will cast off their heavy-handed and arbitrary limits.” He lapped at her wrist again. “You are even more potent than I had dared to hope.”
“Wow, just...wow,” Becka replied, fear chilling her to the core. “I mean, I’m oddly flattered to hear of my...potency, but to hear you have this unimaginative ‘prophecy’ crap guiding you…I’m frankly disappointed.”
“Who would not want the promise of immortality?”
“Oh, no, I don’t mean that. I mean, immortality sounds great. I’m still stuck on the idea of you actually believing in prophecy.”
Woden’s lips, which were stained with her blood, thinned and his cheeks flushed. “Our order treats the ancient prophecies as the sacred texts they are, unlike the rest of the fae who abandoned the teachings of the ancients. I wouldn’t expect you to comprehend such mysteries.”
“I’d just expected something more impressive from the ancient and mysterious order once known as the shadow-dwellers. I mean you know everyone thinks you’re long gone, right? Just a flash in the pan. A children’s boogeyman tale. You were forgotten centuries ago.”
Fire burned within his eyes. “I can assure you we are very much still here, thriving, and thanks to faithfully following the clues left within the prophecies, at the cusp of achieving our quest towards immortality. Our return to power will uplift the entirety of the fae and the future we have planned for this world.” He cut her again, not as deeply this time, and then pressed his lips to her wrist.
Despite lying down, she felt spacey and nauseous. It didn’t help that as he drank from her, her headache grew exponentially. How much blood had she lost so far? Surely not that much?
“Hey there, save a little for your friends.” She knew of various contested fae histories, but fae prophecy was news to her. When he didn’t respond, she egged him on again. “What’s my prophecy say?”
He sighed and stopped drinking from her to answer, his expression triumphant. “The strongest power in generations emerges in honor to the old. An emptiness fills the void.”
Becka waited, but he didn’t continue. “That’s it?”
“I would not expect you to appreciate the details of our lore. It takes some time to learn how to interpret the truth of prophecy.”
“I don’t get the impression you understand it either.”
He raised his hand as if to strike her, and then stopped. “Explaining prophecy to you is a waste of time.”
“Just like killing my sister was?” Becka’s teeth ground together, a fiery anger filing her chest. “I have to assume your prophecy led you astray that time?”
“The paths the faithful follow can be circuitous but rewarding. She led me to you, after all.”
Hearing what amounted to a confession from him boiled her blood. She’d been seeking her twin’s killer, and here he was, except he’d been hunting her. If only she wasn’t tied down...what would she do?
“You can just admit you haven’t a clue what you’re doing," she said
“If I had not found you, another of my order would have. Your fate was sealed upon your birth.”
He picked up a roll of gauze from the small bedside table and began wrapping it around her wrist. Becka signed with relief, hoping it meant she wouldn’t bleed out here and now.
“I’m convinced you are the one who was promised. It’s time to get moving.”
After he’d finished bandaging her right wrist, he turned and picked up some rope. He sat her up on the bed, checking the existing bonds running around her chest and midsection.
“Wait, how does the blood-drinking even work?” she asked. “I mean, my gift is to break magic. Nullifying it. Aren’t you taking a huge risk by exposing yourself to it?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a complex process with alchemy you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It’s said, ‘where the blood flows, the power goes.’ But trust me, my method works.”
“But that’s just a children's rhyme? Try me, I’d like to understand.”
He grinned. “I refuse to explain the secrets of the shadow to you. However, the gift behaves differently when magic is extracted from someone versus when it is used by them. Have no fear, tomorrow I will awaken with the power of your gift flowing through my veins.”
Becka shuddered. “Extracted… You mean you can remove it from me?”
“Up you go,” he said, lifting her up and onto her feet. He held her steady until she stopped wobbling. “A bit, yes, but your power runs deep. Luckily there are others eagerly awaiting to receive your gift.”
“Not to be contrary, but it isn’t a gift.”
He chuckled. “I refer to the gift from our fae ancestors, of course. Have no doubt, it will be shared amongst my brethren who will truly appreciate all you have to offer.”
Becka swallowed hard. There was something appealing about a process that would drain away her gift, and in theory, her newfound obligations. “What happens to me, after you’ve consumed all of my gift?”
He cocked his head. “Few survive the donation.”
Becka ground her teeth. “Again, a donation is willingly given. Which, for the record, I don’t.”
A wolf howled in the distance.
“That’s our cue to be on our way,” he said, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. Her right arm was still free, but the upside-down treatment made her even more woozy.
He strode out the door, Becka over his shoulder, and took off into the heavily wooded forest.
In her right hand, Becka held a brass poker she’d grabbed from its hook on the wall as Woden flew out the door. She knew if she didn’t get free now, she might lose her chance, and her life.
Chapter 29
Woden moved swiftly through the forest, almost at a running pace. Slung as she was upside down over his shoulder the bobbing and bouncing made it difficult to focus. With the poker in her hand, Becka got a wild idea to try and catch it on the trees they wove between. She missed one, then two, and three branches before finally snagging the poker on the fourth try.
The sudden jerk to her arm tore the poker from her grasp, but it threw off Woden’s balance and they both went spinning to the ground. At least she’d landed a little way from him, and he moved slower than she.
As they both recovered from the sudden fall, Becka forced herself to sit up, her head aching as she worked to throw off the ropes holding her down. The one around her thighs wouldn’t loosen, but she was able to wriggle along the ground and slide her legs out from under it. The other ropes unwound from her form, no longer having the te
nsion needed to bind her. The poker, which had fallen from her grip, lay on the ground not far behind them.
After she scrambled back onto her feet, Becka ran to it and picked it up. She doubted she’d be very effective with the poker, due to the double effects of her headache and the blood loss, but Becka would not give up without a fight. This was the man who had killed her sister. He’d ripped open Tesse’s neck, no doubt feasting on her blood. Her powers.
Woden deserved everything she could throw at him, and more.
Woden stood, still clad in black from neck to feet, his face the only exposed area. “I see you are under the mistaken impression you can fight me, and win?” he laughed.
Another wolf cry echoed through the trees. Was it closer this time? Becka couldn’t tell.
“You think they will be able to save you? Think again,” Woden replied.
He raised his hands and held them in the air in front of his face, as if cradling a ball. A swirl of fire grew between his hands, a roaring, popping sound accompanying the display. He widened the space between his hands, until the fireball was a few feet in diameter, and then flicked his hands up towards the sky, throwing the superheated mass into the air. It hung for a moment, and then with a loud crack it expanded like a miasma in all directions, forming a rolling wall of fire.
It passed by Becka without harming her, except for some singed patches on her clothes. The poker heated during the brief contact with the fire wave. It wasn’t enough to make her drop the poker, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Woden himself was unharmed, but as the fire rolled out into the forest trees and bushes caught fire, charring on impact.
Was it her imagination, or did she hear yelps in the distance? Just how far and wide had that fire wall pushed?
Woden raised a brow. “I didn’t expect that would hurt you, dear Becka, but let’s try something else, shall we?”
He raised an arm and pointed two fingers at a nearby blackened tree, a high-pitched vibration shook the air. Woden winced at the noise, but didn’t hurt her.
Then the tree exploded, sending sharp shards shooting out in all directions. Becka threw up an arm to shield her face, turning away from the blast, but pain riddled through her body, driving her to her knees.
When she looked up, Woden too was on the ground. He sat up, a large chunk of tree branch embedded in his chest. He appeared unconcerned and got to work pulling it out.
Her right leg screamed at her, and Becka discovered a spear of wood lodged in her right calf. The clarity of injury focused her thoughts on the task before her. She dropped the poker and pulled at the chuck of tree, which came out accompanied by a screaming effort, followed by a rush of blood she didn’t have to spare. She had a number of other, smaller needles of wood stuck into her flesh, but was able to pull out what she could find, leaving her skin a patchwork of bleeding dots. As blood oozed from her, she shuddered. She was lucky to have survived a killing blow.
He wheezed. “You may be immune to my magic, but not to the second order effects.” He held up the branch with was covered in his blood, and then tossed it to the side.
“How many gifts have you stolen?” she yelled, grabbing the poker and getting back up onto her feet. Blood ran down her leg, the limb throbbing.
He tried to laugh, but the wheezing turning it into a gurgle. Nonetheless, he stood up, “So many, I cannot even count. Not that I would tell you. But I am able to heal at an extraordinary pace. You, however, will not be so lucky.”
The forest around them roared with a crackling, spitting fire. There was no doubt in her mind that he had more he could throw at her. She needed to strike now, while she still could. She’d take him down with her or die trying.
Becka charged Woden, impaling him with the thick brass poker in the gut. The impact of her hit drove them both to the ground, she on her knees beside him. Recovering, she twisted the poker in deeper.
He groaned, and then laughed at her again. “I admire your efforts, futile as they may be.” He didn’t look like he was dying. Instead he chanted something, moving his fingers in the air between them. A healing incantation? Something worse?
What else could she do? She had to think of something to offset Woden’s seemingly innumerable powers. The horror Woden had unleashed upon Becka shook her to her core. She had to fight back. Although she despised violence, he had proven his willingness to harm, and perhaps even kill her, to meet his goals. Becka clenched her teeth, resolved to survive. She could see a therapist later.
In a moment of inspiration, Becka ripped the poker out of his stomach, throwing it to the side. Even as the hole began to reknit itself closed, she overcame her reflexive disgust and shoved not just one but two fingers of her right hand up into the narrowing hole.
He screamed out in pain, the blood from his wound once again gushing out, now pouring over her hand like a river. The hole wasn’t continuing to knit shut. Simultaneously, Becka’s head exploded in pain as her nulling power burned through his magic. She’d managed to prevent his healing with simply her touch.
Encouraged, Becka sought out the wound in his chest and shoved fingers from her left hand into it. He rewarded her with a scream.
“I don’t have a lick of training yet, but I think I’m getting a notion on how my powers work. What do you think?”
He uttered an incantation under his breath, but nothing appeared to happen. He shook his head and had the gall to smile up at her. “You are everything I hoped you would be.” He coughed up blood, his pallor shifting into a lighter tone. “Absolutely magnificent. The Maker’s Shadow will be so pleased.”
“You’ll never get a chance to tell her.”
He laughed weakly, coughing up more blood. “She already knows. Or will. When I do not return, she will know I failed due to underestimating your powers.”
Becka’s heart sank. “It didn’t have to be me. It could have been someone else. Quinn? Or the shifters?”
“No, they could not overpower me. Besides, do you think I am the only devotee of the Shadow here this weekend? The Maker will find out and we will never cease in our efforts to gain your powers as our own, especially now that you have proven yourself so valuable.”
When his blood stopped flowing, Woden finally ceased breathing. The pain in her head subsided, only then did Becka know he was dead. She pulled her hands out of his flesh, the sickening sensation curdling her stomach. Becka wiped her hands off on his clothes, aware of the shaking sensation traveling from her hands up her arms.
She’d avenged Tesse, but if what he said was true, the fight with the Shadow was nowhere near over.
Becka stood up. Which way was the manor, or the cabin, for that matter? She couldn’t recognize and markers in the forest in its current singed state.
“Help!” Becka screamed her heart out. “Anyone?”
She heard a howl in the distance, and figuring it was the shifter guards, limped in that general direction. The fire had abated somewhat, unable to take on a strong foothold in the otherwise healthy forest.
A series of groans led her to discover Quinn and two shifter guards laid out flat, his skin charred and blackened while the wolves fur was badly singed. All appeared unconscious.
“Quinn!” she yelled, dropping to his side.
At first he didn’t respond, so she shook him and was rewarded with a weak groan. “Do you have to be so loud?” Quinn grumbled, his voice a whisper. “There’s no way I can rest with this racket.”
“No sleeping! You need to stay awake.”
“I’m trying,” he rasped. “I already used my phone to call for help, but we’re some distance from the manor. Are you okay?
”I’ve got a divot out of my leg and am down a few pints, but I’ll make it. Can I do anything to help you?”
Quinn shook his head. “Just make sure they find us. That fire wave moved through here like a whip. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Felt like it seared the air itself. We barely saw it coming.”
“That was Woden’s doing.”
>
“Woden?” he asked.
“Otherwise known as Lord Lagan of House Holly.”
“I’d wondered about him, he seemed overly interested in you.” Quinn snapped, and then blushed. “I do not mean to imply that kind of interesting, I mean, of course you’re that kind of interesting,” he stammered.
“You don’t say?” she asked, grateful for his humor in this dark moment.
“Anyway, where is he now?” Quinn then tried to sit up, but she placed a gentle hand on his chest.
“He’s dead.” Tears rolled down her face. The horror of what she’d had to do to stop Woden would no doubt keep her up at night for a while.
His expression was pained. “That’s good. You sure you’re alright?”
The irony of Quinn, flat out with charred skin, asking her if she was okay wasn’t lost on her. She heard the sounds of yelling in the distance. Becka screamed for help again.
“What the hell, Quinn? If you’d suspected Lagan, why not make the first move?”
“Although we have not made it public, the Enforcers have been trying to infiltrate the shadow-dwellers in an attempt to solve a series of murders over the past few generations. I have been developing my connection with this contact for years. When his interest in you peaked, I had Chief Elowen assign me as your escort. We were hoping to discover more on their order in the process.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, and then looked back at her. “I am sorry I could not tell you, and I am even more sorry you got hurt.”
At that moment Brent marched into the glen, a wolf at his side. He took in the scene, gave a curt nod, and ran back, yelling into the distance. The wolf approached the downed pair of his kin, letting out a high-pitched whine.
“I figured Brent would find us,” Quinn whispered. He coughed up a little blood. “I need you to talk to Chief Elowen. Tell her everything.” He opened his hand, holding out his phone to her, which she took.
“I will, just save your strength so I can argue with you later.”
He nodded, but held his tongue. His eyes closed again, as he drifted out of consciousness.
Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1) Page 20
