His smile vanished as blood sprayed up over her.
Raisa threw herself off him, mindful of his death throes as he choked and gagged on his own blood.
The pressure in her chest was almost unbearable now. There was no pain, but there wasn’t any air either.
Looking down to her chest, she saw the hilt of another knife she was trying to breathe around.
“Driv—” Blood poured from her lips, and she fell back.
The blade was hot in her chest now. It spread waves of fire through her veins that she wanted to scream against.
She tried holding onto that pain to stay conscious, but it wasn’t working. Clouds of blackness descended again, but not before she saw a flash of brown hair.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Pen
Pen practically felt the cold steel in her own chest. It didn’t matter if the knife was in Raisa’s, she couldn’t breathe regardless.
She could only stand over Raisa now as Drivas held her hand in bed.
They managed to get Raisa back to the hideout, leaving Tetrides’s body to be found by some late night guards.
Now Raisa laid in bed, barely breathing but alive. She was as pale as the bandages Kaya wrapped around her chest, except for the stark rust color over the wound. The blade missed her heart, thankfully, but Pen could hear the deep rattle in her lungs.
She sunk down to the foot of Raisa’s bed, unable to stand anymore and unable to hide the tears.
She felt Drivas’s eyes on her, but she didn’t reach out. Drivas was weeping too.
They should have been better prepared for this. If she had just gone straight to Raisa after meeting the stranger in the bar, they could have guessed what he was planning next.
Raisa’s labored breathing filled her world, even if it was too quiet.
Pen didn’t know how much time passed with her just sitting there, but Palamedes stood in the doorway now. He looked to Raisa, his eyes growing in horror and understanding.
Drivas had moved to the other side of the bed. Her tears had dried away, but she was still somber.
“What happened?” Palamedes asked.
Pen couldn’t bring herself to answer, not when it felt like the blade was in her own throat.
“Some guy kidnapped me,” Drivas managed to say. “They came running, and Mom tackled him.”
“What guy?” he asked.
“Said his name was Tetrides. My uncle apparently.”
“Fuck,” Palamedes sighed.
“Yeah, but that fucker’s dead now, thanks to Ma and Pen.”
“Pen?”
“She cut the rope before he could hang me.”
“Wait, hang you?!” he exclaimed.
“Don’t worry about that, I’m fine. Pen’s clearly not,. She’s been like this for an hour.”
Pen forced a few shaking breaths to try and calm down. The all too familiar blackness of guilt was taking over again. The same had happened when Arus and Tellus died.
“Pen?”
Palamedes’s hand touched her shoulder, but she hunched tighter. She didn’t want them to see her like this, but she couldn’t leave.
“What happened to her?” she heard him ask Drivas.
“I don’t know.” She sounded scared too. “Ma said she was never good with … with death, though.”
“I’m fine,” Pen managed to gasp out. It felt like she was trying to swim upwards from being underwater too long. “I’m sorry.”
Forcing herself to look at Drivas, the shaking worsened, but she could speak at least.
“I’m sorry. I should have been faster. I should have said something before,” Pen pleaded.
The blackness clawed at her just as she scratched at her wrists now, tearing them raw.
She realized then how selfish she was being. Drivas was the one taken, and she held her dying mother’s hand. Here Pen was trembling and crying like a scared child.
“I’m sorry,” Pen sighed, looking to the floor, as self-hatred settled in again.
A smaller hand touched her arm, and it didn’t let her flinch away. Blinking through the tears, Pen saw Drivas sitting next to her now holding her arm.
She was just as pale, and the black eye was a stark contrast, but she smiled.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Ma told me about your husband.”
Pen choked on one more sob but leaned into Drivas, letting herself be held. The blackness was still there, but there was still one light. A bit that Raisa had left her.
“Ma is tough,” Drivas said through her own fresh tears. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to sleep for a bit. She’ll be okay, we all will.”
“She’s right,” she heard Palamedes add close by. “Raisa isn’t going to let a single knife wound take her out. She’ll be awake soon.”
Finally gaining some air, Pen was able to regain her composure and give Drivas a tiny smile before standing from the bed.
Palamedes watched her, worried, and even had one hand out to steady her if need be.
Seeing Raisa prone almost made her crack again, but she turned to Drivas.
“You get some rest too,” she said also noticing the bags under her eyes.
“I will,” Drivas nodded. “Palrig said he was going to come back in a bit to watch her.”
Squeezing Drivas’s hand and casting one more glance to Raisa, Pen made herself leave the room and the hideout.
“You really okay?”
She jumped at Palamedes’s voice, and he even took a step back when she did.
“Sorry,” he said quickly.
“It’s fine,” she said finally meeting his eye. “I thought I was alone, that’s all.”
They stood outside now in the afternoon and on an empty street. Shame gnawed at her as she realized she’d been delirious almost the entire day.
“What happened last night,” Pen asked him, “with hunting down the Fang in that neighborhood?”
“We didn’t find him,” Palamedes said, “but I think the amount of armored guards may have spooked him. We can try again tonight and widen the search a bit.”
“Widen it?”
“We may have found where he hunts, or close to it,” Palamedes speculated.
Pen nodded. “We can reverse it, then. Search around the circled areas. Maybe we can catch him in the act?”
“Exactly, but with the guards more spaced out and discrete.”
“Discrete,” Pen said starting to walk towards the barracks with an idea in mind. “Disguises would help. Well trained guards with a few hidden weapons are harder to spot than ones in full green armor.”
“Perfect,” he said falling beside her. “So … are you okay?”
“No,” she surprised herself by admitting it, but it was the only answer he expected, “but catching this fucker will make me feel better.”
“So, how did you and Raisa meet?” Palamedes asked as they walked.
Her feet hurt, and the sun had set hours ago, but Pen kept going.
“Can we not talk like she’s gone?” Pen protested.
“I’m not,” he shrugged trying to stay casual. His eyes had a hard look to them, though, like he was expecting the worst. “I was curious from the beginning anyway, and we’ve been walking in silence for a while.”
“It has been a while,” Pen admitted.
Once they left Raisa and Drivas at the fletching shop, they went straight for the barracks and the guards. Some of them didn’t like the idea of not having any defense or protection, but their captain did like the idea of them being hidden. They agreed to walk in pairs as well, just in case.
“Raisa and her crew at the time kidnapped me and another friend of mine named Tellus. We had taken a kill from them, pretending to be Wolves, because we needed the coin. That was before her entire enterprise was built, but she still protected the honor of the Wolves. What about you? How did you meet her?”
“Well, my story is not that exciting.” He laughed a bit. “She caught me in the streets of Kression saying a merchant w
as out to have me killed. I don’t even remember why, but it scared me half to death. So, after she basically saved my life, I joined them.”
“She mentioned the merchant part after you left, actually,” Pen said, “and about your brother.”
The casual smile died at the mention of him.
Pen cursed for adding that last bit. She should have shut her mouth. Of course the dying brother was a sensitive topic.
“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” she tried.
“I hope so,” he said. “Speaking of the Travelers Rest and me leaving, has there been any more godly stuff going on?”
He was clearly trying to be causal and change the subject, but that was a leap. She suspected he’d wanted to bring that up before.
Phaos as a hawk in her window, right behind Palamedes, entered her thoughts.
“I can’t really say,” she gave.
He paused but said, “That’s basically yes.”
Glancing sideways to him, she gave a tiny nod.
He caught it and let the question drop.
The street they’d just crossed was close to Rella’s house now, and it didn’t look the safest.
After several minutes of not seeing anyone on the main street, Pen started spotting people just standing in the mouths of open doorways, arches, and small stairs leading to other terraces. She saw a few bodies slumped over in alleys as she peeked down them.
Movement in one alley caught her eye, and she froze. Dagger stepped out onto the street several yards beside them and waved her over. Scythe popped out from behind him.
“Uh,” Pen didn’t realize the confused sound had escaped until Palamedes turned too.
“See something?” he asked intrigued.
He was facing towards the alley Dagger and Scythe stood in, but his gaze slid right over them.
“Uh, no, I just,” Pen said, “I have to pee. One second.”
“Okay,” he gave sounding a little awkward as she hurried off to the alley.
“The fuck are you doing here?” she whispered angry. “Palamedes could have seen you.”
“No, he can’t. It’s fine,” Dagger said, sounding annoyed. “Good evening to you too, by the way. You never seem to be happy to see us.”
Pen sighed, trying to dampen the annoyance. “Sorry, but what do you want? I’m a little busy.”
“We were hoping to introduce you to someone,” Scythe explained, grinning like a madwoman. She was clearly excited about this meeting.
“I can’t right now,” Pen said. “We’re looking for the Fang, so this will have to wait.”
“He needs to talk to you, Pen,” Dagger insisted.
“I’m sorry, but it has to wait. Tell him the situation. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Pen left them in the alley, making her way back to Palamedes. He stood just where she’d left him, waiting patiently.
“Have you seen anything yet?” Pen asked Palamedes quietly.
“No, but it feels like we’re being followed. I can’t shake it, but it’s not the same as when we left Kression. And I can’t spot anyone behind us.”
“I noticed that too,” Pen gave continuing down the street, but wondered now if it was just Dagger and Scythe again. “If it’s a thief, I hope they leave us alone. I am not in the bloody mood tonight.”
“Have you seen much?” he asked, catching up.
“Just people sleeping in the alleys,” she said.
“I’m starting to think that’s normal here.”
Another uneventful hour went by, and Pen was starting to think they wouldn’t come across anything tonight, that it was a long shot anyway.
“Wait.”
Pen stopped and snagged Palamedes’s sleeve. More movement caught her attention, and she pointed so he could see it.
The latest alley they faced was hardly wide enough for one person to walk through. She would have missed it entirely if not for the winking lamp light from the next street across the alley.
Two figures were struggling, and the taller one easily had the upper hand. It could have been a simple mugging, until the taller one shoved the other back against the wall.
Through the shadows and silhouettes, Pen was able to make out that the victim was female, just as the taller one bent his head and went for her throat.
Pen took off down the alley towards them. Her footfalls echoed off the narrow wooden walls, breaking any sense of secrecy.
She could see them properly now, this close in the darkness, and he looked up.
Blood sprayed from his teeth and the woman’s neck.
Shoving away from the woman in a panic, the Fang ran to the opposite end of the alley.
Pen was about to scream after him, but froze when she realized the woman was still standing, but swaying.
She braced herself between the walls, eyes wide in horror, with a hand clutched over her throat. Blood poured from her lips and fingers as she choked.
“Shit, shit, no!” Pen nearly did scream.
Palamedes came up behind her and barreled past them.
“Help her, I’ll go after him!” Then he was gone.
The woman clung to Pen now, trying to speak, but failing.
Pen took hold of her throat too, mad at herself for not having a rag or anything to press against the wound.
The woman gagged and fell to her knees, practically choking on their combined hands.
“Let go for a second,” Pen told her, thinking of the only thing she was good at.
The woman looked at her like she was just as mad as the one who ripped her throat out.
Pen tore her hand away, exposing the wound. It pulsed freely for only a moment, but it was enough to pool on the ground.
Pen drew from the opened cut on her finger where she’d made the quill. A shapeless mass of her own blood rose and clamped around the woman’s neck like a collar.
Her heartbeat doubled and her terror spiked. Who was this woman with the purple hair? Why was the blood moving?! Iron filled her mouth. She couldn’t breathe. Her throat wouldn’t stop gagging. Who was that man?!
A face flashed in her mind, one she did and didn’t recognize. Shoulder length blond hair, and his just as terrified brown eyes begged for her understanding under his hood.
He had been muttering something, talking to someone.
Gasping, Pen flung herself away from the scared woman, but managed to keep her hand still. The tendril connecting them still intact.
The woman coughed again but stole a breath of clean air next. She sat back against the other wall, opposite Pen, watching her while the crimson collar held her death at bay at the source of the bleeding.
Pen trembled along with her until the guards came.
The entire time feeling the woman’s fear and panic as her own.
Chapter Forty
Pen
“Here,” Palamedes said handing Eudora a mug of tea.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Pen sat across from her, watching the bandages around the woman’s throat. They had stopped the bleeding and carefully covered the wound with the white wrappings when they got her home. There were spots of blood, but no huge torrents of it any more.
Palamedes, along with a few guards, found them in the alley.
The Fang had escaped him, knowing the back alleys of the city better than he did.
Of the guards with him, one was the same lad who was with them at Philomenae’s body. The same one who suggested she move the dead woman’s blood. Pen was half tempted to tell him the idea kind of worked.
Once Eudora managed to tell them where her house was, with her son, they settled inside, and she told them what happened. She was weak from the blood loss but willing to stay awake to talk for a while.
Eudora looked to Pen now, in the little parlor with stuffed couches.
“You’re the Warrior?” she asked.
Pen just nodded.
“I heard you were here, although I never thought you really existed.”
“Half o
f the time, I wish I didn’t.”
Eudora blinked and pulled back, clearly not expecting an answer like that.
Palamedes even looked to her, more confused and concerned.
“Sorry,” Pen said regretting the comment. “Bad night.”
“Right,” Eudora touched her bandage.
“What happened exactly?” Pen asked, trying to turn the conversation back to normal. “Who was that man? What did you see?”
“I don’t really know,” she shrugged. “I was taking a shortcut home, then he just grabbed me, and …”
“Was he waiting for you specifically?” Palamedes asked.
“I don’t … know. How would I know that?”
“Was he already in the alley?”
“No, actually, I think he followed me into it,” Eudora explained.
“Was he following you for a while?”
“I didn’t see when he started.”
“Did you know the other women?” Pen asked.
“Others?”
“The others he … hurt,” Pen said. “They were Carras, Rella, Adrienne, and Philomenae. There were others before them too. Do you know any of them?”
“No,” Eudora said. “Why did he come for me, then?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Pen said.
“Is he coming back?” she asked with a trembling voice.
“I’ll make sure some guards stay here until he’s caught,” Pen promised.
“Thank you,” Eudora sighed.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about him? What did he look like?” Pen asked.
She rubbed the cut on her finger, causing it to sting. She had seen a face when their blood touched.
“Um … it … he was young.” The trembling in her voice traveled to her hands. “Blond hair, gray, no brown eyes, I know they were dark. He wore a hood, and it was night, but he got so close.”
Exactly as Pen had seen it.
“I was going to die,” Eudora sobbed and pressed a hand to her mouth.
“It’s okay,” Pen took her other hand. “You’re safe now.”
Blood blossomed over the bandages, and Pen’s heart lurched.
“I wouldn’t strain you’re throat right now,” she added quickly.
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 22
