Kat's gaze locked with the incision. She saw tiny holes—injection marks.
Blood dribbled from the side of the woman's neck, scarlet trails running alongside the skin of Anais' throat until red fell. Dripping upon Kat's chemise. White stained by red.
Sleep and forget.
Kat's eyes trembled as they scanned, as they dove into the earth tinted brown of Anais' wide eyes and searched for answers. For a clue as to what was going on.
Why was Vidonia in her head?
What had she done?
Kat's eyes landed upon the injection marks once more, as Anais' brow furrowed.
“You saw.” she murmured, nodding to herself. “You saw.” the woman repeated, scanning Kat's eyes as she leaned ever closer. “I did not mean to...” she let her voice die as she peeled her gaze away, eyes falling to the red stain upon Kat's chemise, “...I shouldn't have...”
Please, Kat thought to Anais, eyes pleading, please—just let me go.
Anais fixed her gaze upon Kat's eyes, her face hard. Her pink lips pressed into a grim line. Anais' stopped leaning forward as her face hovered above Kat's. The woman breathed silently, the tip of her pointed nose almost brushing Kat's face as the woman stood transfixed. “You know what she is...” Anais nodded once more, eyes wavering as her voice ebbed into a low whisper, “...correct?”
If Kat could have shook her head and screamed—she would have emphasized no until she had a headache. But her body was not her own as she nervously stared into Anais' wavering gaze, the woman's brown eyes darkening as Kat responded with silence. Nervous, heart pounding, silence.
“It is good what she has done for you, yes. It is good.” Anais replied, swiping another palm across Kat's sweaty forehead as she pulled her own face back. “You can protect yourself well with blood work. But against her...because of the Rite...” Anais shook her head, moving away from Kat's bed as she paced with a hand to her chin. “...she attempted to replace me tonight. She thought she could drink every ounce of me, but—”
Anais shook her head once more as she spun upon her heel, gown whirling. “—I ran. Like a coward—I ran...I never—!” Anais paused, standing near the edge of Kat's bed as she hovered. Kat looked on, terror etching her face as cold pins raced up and down her arms. The chill bringing up pimply gooseflesh. “—I never intended you to...I intended to warn you, Katell. I intended to—,” slapping her hands upon the bed, Anais glowered at Kat. Harsh brown eyes narrowing into slits as she glared. “She plans to use you as she has used me.” her whisper was harsh, clipped. “She plans to replace me. Do you understand, magebane? Drinking you will grant her a tenth of your power—if you replace me, she will be able to control the Blood—do you understand?”
Of course, she didn't. Vidonia could drink people?
Kat did not understand. Visions of the hetaera came to mind, but those creatures only drank blood from what she knew.
From what she knew. Which wasn't much—her knowledge about humanoid beasts. For all she knew, her information could be wrong. Old. Dated.
She knew next to nothing.
Was Vidonia a hetaera?
As if reading Kat's mind, Anais slammed her hands into her hair and hissed hot air through her clenched teeth. “Damn your lack of knowledge! Your lack of comprehension! Damn your southern ties—how have you survived in the reaches for so long knowing you could work blood?!”
Anais didn't wait for an answer as Kat's eyes widened at the woman's sudden burst of red-hot rage. “I will not allow her to replace me.” Anais spat out, a pale hand rolling through her hair as she set her eyes upon Kat once more. “This is all you need to know.”
Bringing a cold hand to Kat's sweaty forehead, Anais closed her eyes. Pink lips moved, murmuring in a language Kat could not understand as Kat's eyelids dropped. Her eyes suddenly heavy as Anais' lyrical language spilled over her like a glacial tide. Chilling her to the bone. Freezing her in a silent gust of snow and winter. Kat's worries drifted away in a whisper, as did her fear for what Anais was doing to her and why.
Why was Anais doing this?
The question brought Kat back in an instant—in a surge of fear and fright.
“This is for your own protection,” the woman told her, doe-eyes closed as a circle of electric blue mist welled up around her planted hand. Surrounding it. “I will tell her you have left, but for your own protection...”
A crash of darkness blinded Kat, Anais' chill remaining as it surged around her.
I am sorry, sweet one.
THIRTY-TWO
A hard wall of wood slapped her cheek as the side of her head thwacked into a harsh wooden surface. She splayed her hands to either sides of her, elbows bending as her palms flattened against rough wood. Kat woke, eyelids fluttering an enchanted sleep away, as she kneeled within the tight confines of a rocking crate.
The chill was gone—as was Anais' presence. Both were replaced with an atmosphere of bleak cold as if she were treading through a blinding blizzard by starlight.
Beneath her—outside and around her—a river raged as her breath streamed out of her flaring nostrils as harsh white mist.
Why had Anais done this?
Of the two sorceresses—Kat liked Vidonia least. The councilwoman had seemed the most apt to force Kat to do her bidding, be it against Kat's will or not. Anais had been the most compliant, the one welcoming presence that had been somewhat kind to her. That led her to believe she'd do no harm and that she'd even be Kat's bulwark when Vidonia pressured her too much or pressed her too hard.
But it was Anais—Anais who betrayed her. Who knocked her out and plucked her into a box.
Was she rushing down a river?
The watery roar outside screamed yes, rollicking waters slamming themselves into the sides of her crate as the planks beneath her feet wobbled and wove through the thrashing current.
The box dipped beneath the cold waves as the white water rushing by its sides pushed and pulled at it. Kat's ears popped as she held her breath. Water surged between the crate's wet planks as she pressed her palms upon the planks above her. Heart throbbing within her chest as icy water began to bite at her toes and fingers, she gasped as the river lifted the crate towards its surface. The box violently heaving through the water, resurfacing before bobbing up and down as the river continued to surge, continued to push her forward.
Kat felt her stomach lurch as she righted herself with two hands pressed onto either sides of the crate. Felt her hands lose their grip upon either sides of the surrounding planks as water crept through the soaked wood of the crate's rugged bottom. Ice water brushed against her bare feet, biting at her toes, as it dampened the edges of her chemise.
Squatting as the box careened upon its side, Kat fought to find a foot hold—to find her balance and find a way out this thing—as water continued to creep. Continued to glaze her in an icy chill as she scrambled to find her footing once again.
If things continued like this, she'd end up rolling into the sea. She'd either drown or die of starvation before she went too far out.
Unless a night-stalker fished her out and dined on her instead.
At that thought, she shivered as she pressed upon either sides of the crate. As the river surged beneath her, she fell to her side with a thump. Placing all of her weight upon the right side of the box, she felt the thing lurch and groan as it rolled to its right. Effectively forcing her to lose her foothold once more as her foothold became a wall and the wall to her right tumbled down. Kat tumbling with it, grunting as she forced herself to close her eyes. Balling her body up, she hugged her knees into her chest as the box righted itself upon the churning waves. Her breath came in pulsating streams. She could feel her body trembling as more water spurted from the cracks between the rotted wood boards.
She needed to get out of here.
But how?
Why had Anais done this?
For the second time in her adult life—she wanted to cry. She wanted to break down and let the tears come. She wanted t
o give up.
But she had lives to save and reputations to fix. She couldn't let her life go to the river before she saved Alan from taking the fall for her mistake—she couldn't let Horace's reputation fall to ruin because of her insubordination.
She couldn't die without apologizing to Eva—or hugging Maddy. No—she had too many things to set right. She couldn't die here.
She needed to get out.
Now was not the time for tears.
Rearing back her fist, she threw a punch at the crate's thin wall and cursed.
A circle lit up upon the water soured planks, electric blue lines spinning as foreign lettering came to life around her fist.
Kat couldn't read it, but knew a spell when she saw one.
She cursed as she brought her fist back, her knuckles raw and throbbing, as she braced it against her chest. She'd need to use magic—the Power. She'd need to strip her blood of its crux to get out of this damned thing. But she wasn't sure how to work blood against the spinning circle. Vidonia had only taught her how to fix her own body with blood work, or the bodies of others. She hadn't taught her how to use it to break spells or wards. She hadn't taught her how to fight with it.
Pressing her fingers to her throat, she felt for the scar Anais' stiletto had left as raging waters stormed outside. Kat remembered blood flowing, scarlet staining her skin as her heart pumped and blood raced up through her throat as vomit. She remembered Vidonia's curt guidance, remembered Vidonia telling her to focus on the smell...the sound of her blood. She told her to focus on the color.
And in a moment of intense clarity, the wound healed up.
But when she supposedly teleported the archmage away—she hadn't injured herself doing that. When she levitated—when fear screamed through her ears and rushing blood made her light-headed—she hadn't injured herself doing that either.
Did she have to cut herself to activate the Power? Did she have to feel intense fear?
The crate careened with the push of an angry tide, throwing her head towards its back wall as it tumbled over in the tumult. The crate groaned as Kat's head connected with its planks with a thump. She felt her neck pop with a jaw smacking snap as her vision blurred, bright lights exploding above her as all she saw were stars
She shook the vision away, ignoring the angry throbbing of her head as she brought her gaze towards the top of the crate. Pressing both palms to the wooden surface above her, Kat focused on the rush of blood in her ears. She saw red—focused on its curling tendrils—and thought to consult the Night Lady. Thought to call out to her mother before the river swallowed her whole, but remembered her words.
I give you my power.
Biting her cheek—she focused, concentrated. Felt her head throb and ache as she pressed her palms into the surface of the box harder—her heart racing as water swirled and died beneath her. Icy slush bit at her back, water dribbling through the cracks of the crate's planks. Icy slush submerging her up to her waist as she squatted. Brow knotting up as she focused on the surge of blood through her ears.
I give you my power.
She bit her cheek—gasped at the impact of a rock slamming into the bottom of the crate. Arching her back, she felt a jolt of warm Power electrify her arm as it shot through her. The Power splaying through her palm only to ricochet off of the box's wooden surface. The circle recanting, coming to life again in a surge of electric blue mist.
“Fuck.”
Kat would need to do something more—she'd need to do something drastic.
She'd need to draw her own blood.
Kat bit her cheek—hard—as the entire box wobbled in the jolting push and pull of a raging tide. The resulting force knocked her head from side to side as she struggled to keep her foothold, but she continued concentrating on her hands. Biting her cheek harder and harder until she winced at a sudden spurt of blood. The liquid metallic in her mouth. Warm.
With a heave, she spat it upon her hands. Watched the circle light up once more only for the mist to fade away and a blazing heat to explode from the palms of her flattened hands. Kat shrieked as the surface of the box melted away—splintering into a million tiny pinpricks of wood as the night sky burst forth. Sparkling stars winking as she stood and jumped into the raging river before her.
THIRTY-THREE
Kat threw herself upon the riverbank. Her chemise soaked through, the cottony fabric sticking to her skin as her limbs trembled and convulsed. Overhead, a sultry wind blew a chilling combination of metallic scents fused with the spoiled stench of rotten meat. The cold air above laced with the water dripping upon her skin, making her shiver. Making her feel the midnight chill as she rested her cheek upon the dense soil of the riverbank and sighed.
Swimming certainly hadn't been her best idea—but she had been determined to get out of that damned crate. So determined, that she completely ignored the fact that it was winter. And, even though it didn't snow past the black forest, the winter winds still raged. Ravaging all, no matter their place upon the border. Winter and wet clothes did not mix. Chilled gusts of wind would rip through her soaked chemise as if she were wearing a gown of ice. It would be better to wander naked, she told herself as she shivered.
Already, her mind was becoming bogged down with an impenetrable fog that made clear thought a jaw clenching chore. Shivering violently upon the riverbank, something told her to drop her wet clothes and sleep. Something told her to curl up upon the riverbank and wait for the sun. For its warmth.
Her breath came in slow shudders, white steam wheezing through her open mouth, as she turned her thoughts towards survival. Towards braving this wintry tundra—or, at the very least, this night.
A thin collection of chalk-white trees surrounded her, their threadlike trunks peppering the frozen soil of the black riverbank like spindly locks upon a sage's wizened head. Past the trees, muttered a bulwark of impenetrable shadow that spread out for miles—at least, as far as she could see without moving her aching neck.
Somewhere in that darkness, a pair of bare feet pattered upon the soil. Dashing. Zigzagging through the darkness as a whirlwind of whispers trailed after it. Soft voices going wild as the wind picked up, the air carrying that stomach turning stench again. The stench of meat gone bad—a carcass.
Something was feeding out there.
Kat groaned, slapping her forehead into the frozen soil beneath her.
She had fucked up.
Pressing her palms into the dirt, Kat grunted as she forced her frozen fingers to move. Pins and needles pulsing through her veins as a thousand tiny pinpricks stabbed beneath the skin of her hands and arms. Shutting her eyes, she brought herself to her knees as the sound of bare feet came whooshing by again. The sound originating from the shadows some ways away from her, but close enough to make her flesh prickle up with tiny bumps. Shoving herself to standing, Kat wobbled towards her right. Her legs moving under her as if she were still being pushed by that river, her balance returning only to disappear once more as she fell to the ground and caught herself with a cold hand.
From the shadows, a voice whispered. The sound like metal screeching upon stone.
She needed to build a fire, she decided as the voice petered out. The whisper dying on a cold breath of wind.
She needed to build a fire and climb a tree if she wanted to survive this night.
Afterwards, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Anais had wanted her gone—not dead. Perhaps Kat would backtrack for home, searching for the Chaperon all the while.
Perhaps she'd find her mother. Perhaps she'd see Bertrand and the others on the way.
They're dead—remember? Gone. Frozen in the snow. Kat blinked before shoving herself to standing once more, her eyes on the chalk-white trees and their low hanging branches.
Trudging upon the frozen soil, she approached a thin tree and yanked a handful of branches from its pale face. Throwing the white wood to the ground, she picked up a stick and arranged her pile into a pyramid of dead wood. The stick in her hand sat as king, at
the very top of the pyramid, before she began rubbing the wood between her hands. Sparks flew. Smoke sputtered. But no fire came.
And as if things couldn't get any worse, it began to rain.
Kat cursed, snarling as her eyelids became heavy and the shivering of her body paused. She no longer felt the cold as her skin became clammy and pallid. Wind whipped by her ears as a gentle midnight rain roared overhead. The slight drizzle growing into a downpour, as whispers protruded from the darkness. Followed by guttural growls that made her think of Vidonia as Kat rubbed her hands together harder—her skin burning as rain began to soak the wood beneath her.
She'd have to give up on that fire.
Throwing the sticks to the ground, she turned towards the noise at her back.
“Come, then.” she told the voices, arms splayed. Fingers wide. “There's no point in hiding.”
Whispers. Arguments. Hisses and high-pitched voices wreathed and danced through the shadowy wood before her as up above, the dark sky bled scarlet.
“Come!” she called—almost screaming as voices danced.
Wraiths cloaked in translucent shadow fled from the darkness. Two, Kat counted, the translucent beings approaching her from either side as they raised gangly hands beneath the ethereal fabric of their blackened cloaks. They spirited themselves towards her like stygian ghosts, pitted eye sockets glowing a ghoulish white as the creatures operated in sync. Raising gangly hands as their black nail beds sprouted yellowed talons. The weapons reaching towards the frozen soil only to stop inches from the dirt.
The creatures froze, coming within arms distance only to stop.
Kat felt her heart slow. Felt her pulse die beneath her skin.
They were afraid.
Kat still had blood on her hands—her own.
She felt compelled. Wanted to fall to her knees and let the beasts have at her, but her face twisted as they watched her with those eerie glowing sockets. Their hands frozen, their translucent cloaks breathing as a trail of swirling shadow waved beneath their floating bodies.
Winterskin: A Dark Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 1) Page 16
