Blood Bond

by Shannon K. Butcher

  Another sgath joined the first. They snarled and nipped at each other as they circled the area, looking for their lost prey.

  Ronan wasn’t going to be able to hold the magic around him for much longer. He was already starving, weak, aching to let go.

  He didn’t want to die like this. He didn’t want to leave this earth before he’d found a way to free Justice. No one else would help her the way he would—until his dying breath. No one would be willing to sacrifice for her the way he would.

  No one would love her the way he did.

  Even the thought of her had the ability to strengthen his resolve. He placed her beautiful face in his mind and held it there like a talisman.

  He could feel her nearby, just on the other side of the stone wall. Her presence sort of flickered in and out, as if the magic protecting the compound was still struggling to hold itself together.

  The more he felt her, the more he knew the walls were failing. And if the walls failed, hundreds of innocents would die.

  In the distance, somewhere close to Dabyr, a demon howled an eerie song of victory. More voices joined the chorus, calling their kind to join them.

  The sgath hunting Ronan lifted their heads and answered the call. A moment later, they darted off into the thick woods.

  He was safe for the moment, but a sgath howl like that could only mean one thing.

  His allies—his friends—were now being feasted on by demons.

  ***

  Joseph pulled his fighters back all the way to the front steps of Dabyr.

  Sweat dripped from his hair. His muscles burned from cutting down an endless string of Synestryn. The magical conduit that connected him to Lyka heated as she siphoned off more and more power from him.

  She was wearing out. Growing weak and exhausted from channeling so much magic.

  She’d killed more demons with her wicked bolts of lighting and searing shards of fire than he had with his sword, but even she had her limits.

  They all did.

  His men were starting to falter. Their will—their resolve—was strong, but hours of battle had taken its toll on even the strongest of his warriors.

  The few Slayers that had been at Dabyr when the attack started had held back from the fray, picking off the demons that slipped through the main offensive line of swords and magic. But even their sharp claws and savage teeth couldn’t stop all of the stragglers. Even they were slowing as the endless flood of fresh, strong enemies slipped through the front line.

  If the sun didn’t come up soon and force the demons back into their caves, Dabyr was going to fall. It was only a matter of time and numbers now.

  And even if they survived this night, tomorrow night was only hours away. The demons would come back. There was no time to rebuild the walls and rest his people for another fight like this one.

  Joseph shoved that defeatist thought from his mind and found Lyka’s presence glowing inside of him. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not even close. And he wasn’t ready to let her down. For her, he’d fight until there was no breath left in his body.

  Behind him, screams of terror and pain echoed from inside the halls. The humans were all supposed to be hiding in safe rooms, guarded by some of his best men, but clearly, some humans had chosen not to follow orders.

  He prayed it wasn’t the teens, too rebellious to be smart and too certain of their immortality to even question how dangerous it was to fight demons with no magic to aid them.

  The need to go in and rescue them warred with the need to stay here to keep the building from being overrun. If he and his men didn’t hold this line, everyone inside would die. Once the demons made it inside Dabyr, all the magical enhancements that protected the Sanguinar from the sun would do the same for the Synestryn. They wouldn’t have to hide anymore. They’d have everything they needed all in one place—protection from the sun that would kill them and all the food they could want flowing through the veins of the blooded humans inside.

  Every Sentinel here would give their lives to stop that from happening. He prayed it didn’t come to that.

  Joseph’s next blow was a fraction of a second too slow. One of the gray demons managed to get through his defenses and sliced a deep cut across his abdomen.

  Pain flared bright, blinding him for a second.

  Lyka’s voice barked in his thoughts, easily heard over the roar of combat. Duck!

  Joseph followed her mental instructions, forcing his body to bend exactly as she’d shown him.

  He couldn’t see the blade that would have taken off his head, but he felt it stir the hairs as it passed.

  Joseph looked up to see Morgan standing next to him where Madoc had been earlier. He’d left to protect his wife while she brought their firstborn into the world.

  Joseph hoped like hell that world was far more peaceful than the one they faced now.

  A heavy clang of steel on steel rang just above him. Morgan had blocked another incoming blow that would have killed Joseph.

  Morgan was fresh to the fight, incredibly strong, and as fierce a warrior as any Joseph had ever known. Maybe with his help, they could survive the last few minutes until sunrise.

  Logan is stepping up behind you to heal you, Lyka whispered in his mind. Her voice wasn’t as strong as before. Then again, none of them were.

  Joseph kept his sword in front of his body and shifted his stance so that none of the demons in front of him could reach Logan.

  If they lost their healers, the whole line would collapse as injury took them one by one.

  Joseph knew from experience that in a situation like this, Logan wouldn’t waste any energy blunting the pain of what he was about to do. While he could knit skin and bone with a touch, Joseph was going to have to endure every second of the pain of his recovery shoved into one very short, very agonizing moment.

  Even though he’d experienced this before, even though he was braced for it, the searing torture of being healed hit him by surprise. It was like his mind couldn’t face just how much it was possible to hurt, so it had blocked out the memory entirely.

  Lyka’s cooling presence eased him through the worst of it. Morgan’s strong sword arm kept him safe from the blows that came flying his way. It only took Logan a few seconds to do the job, but it felt more like hours.

  When it was finally over and the Sanguinar moved to find the next injured warrior, Joseph was left a little weaker and slower than he’d been before.

  Morgan and Lyka took up the slack while Joseph found a way to rally.

  His people needed him. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t fall. Because of that, he was going to find a way to make it until sunrise.

  “Sorry I was late to the party,” Morgan shouted over the din, grinning as he fought. “Glad you saved me some fun.”

  Joseph’s voice was as weary as his body and as thin as his hope. “Have all the fun you want.”

  There was more than enough to go around.

  ***

  Madoc found Nika in one of the lower levels of Dabyr, in one of the rooms Sanguinar used to treat patients. This room had been set up for the delivery, but the one piece of equipment that was missing was also the most important.

  “Where the fuck are Hope and Logan?”

  Nika’s usually pale face was flushed and dotted with sweat. She crouched in a corner of the room, a short sword clenched in her fist.

  Madoc loved that about his wife—that even when she was struggling through labor pains, she was still as protective of their child as she was fierce.

  Their child. Their little girl. She was coming. Tonight. Now.

  A wave of panic hit Madoc so hard he had to grip the edge of the door frame to keep from falling over.

  He was going to be a dad. Holy fuck. How was that even possible? He wasn’t father material. Not even close.

  Nika panted through her contraction before answering. “Not coming. Battle before babies.”

  “Fuck!”

  “I’ve done this before,” she said.
“Remember?”

  “Your sister did this, not you. You might have been in her head at the time, but that’s not the same thing.”

  “I’m staying positive, love. You should try it.”

  Madoc closed and locked the door, then shoved a heavy cabinet in front of it. No way were demons getting in here to eat his family. And he was almost certain his hands were about to be full.

  “How close are the contractions?” he asked.

  She let out a low groan of pain. “Not watching a clock.”

  Madoc had read seven different books on labor and delivery. Thanks to his photographic memory, he was able to remember every word. All he had to do now was execute what he’d read and pray none of the complications haunting his nightmares would happen.

  He glanced at the clock hanging over the head of the bed—the bed his wife was not on.

  Madoc went to her, then stopped when he saw the blood on his hands. The shit the gray demons bled wasn’t poisonous like some of the Synestryn, but he still didn’t want it anywhere near his family.

  As he washed, she hissed as the next contraction hit her.

  He looked at the clock. Less than a minute had passed.

  This was happening. Now.

  Calm had never been Madoc’s strong suit, but for his family, he found the strength to keep his tone even and level. “Nika, honey, I think it’s time we got you out of those fighting leathers and up on the bed.”

  “Can’t…move.”

  She was in too much pain to even stand, much less undress or climb up on a table.

  Normally, Madoc would have found what was causing her pain and killed it, but in this case, his cock had been the thing that had gotten her into this condition. He had no one to kill but himself.

  Still, seeing her suffer was tearing him apart. No man could be expected to endure their wife’s labor without doing everything they could to ease her pain.

  So that’s what he did.

  Madoc picked up his wife, laid her on the table, stripped off her leather pants and then found the tie that bound them together.

  Their pipeline was usually wide open, so much so that they often shared the same mental space without even realizing it. Now, however, Nika had clamped it shut to save him from the pain she endured.

  Not fucking likely.

  He got between her legs and stared at her over her protruding belly, his expression telling her that he was about to get his way, whether or not she liked it.

  “We’re doing this together, Nika. You’ve carried the burden of this pregnancy most of the way. It’s my turn to help.”

  “I don’t want you to hurt,” she said.

  “Then open up and let me take some of your pain.”

  “No. I—” Her words broke off as the next contraction hit.

  Madoc didn’t even feel bad about shoving his way into her thoughts and finding the center of her labor pains.

  They were intense, agonizing things that drove all thought from his head. But only for a minute.

  He’d carried pain before. Nika had saved him from it. It was his turn to do the same for her.

  Madoc gathered up his wife’s torture and swallowed it whole. His body tried to convulse and reject it, but he told it to shut the fuck up and deal.

  This was happening.

  After a few seconds, he adjusted to his new reality and checked Nika’s cervix.

  “You’re fully dilated, love,” he told her, his voice rough with both profound pain and profound joy. “It’s time to push.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Justice grabbed her duffel bag from the semi and started to run. She didn’t know where she was going or why, but she was no longer in control.

  The woman who possessed her was frantic. Desperate. If Justice didn’t run fast enough, she was certain she was going to be too late.

  Ronan was going to die.

  Justice ran faster.

  She darted across the open area between the main building of Dabyr and the stone walls several hundred yards away. Most of the battle was raging on the west side of the building, but a few demons had managed to slip past the flashing swords and brilliant magic flashing in the distance.

  Savage-looking men with elongated fangs and claws roamed the clearing, covered in black blood. They sought out the lone demons slinking around the grounds, then ripped them apart with their bare hands. Literally.

  She’d heard about Slayers before but didn’t think she’d ever seen one. She sure as hell hadn’t seen one in battle, more animal than man. Some of them even seemed to have taken on animalistic traits—fur, widened jaws, the tendency to run on four legs that were more wolf than human.

  Justice left the demon cleanup to them and made a beeline for the wall. She had no idea how she was going to get over it. For all she knew, the fates would force her to dig her way through with her fingernails.

  She could feel Ronan. She was getting closer, but not fast enough. She was going to be too late.

  Her legs pounded, her heart hammered. Her breath billowed from her open mouth in a fog of mist that was swept past her as she ran. Tears cooled on her cheeks and streaked back over her temples into her hairline.

  “Ronan!” she screamed, unable to hold his name inside her lips.

  There was no answer, or if there was one, she couldn’t hear it over the crash of battle.

  She risked a quick glance back over her shoulder. A pair of four-legged demons with glowing eyes and barbed tails were heading right for her.

  They were still yards away, and right now, that felt like an eternity. So much could happen in the time it would take them to cross the distance.

  Ronan could breathe his last breath.

  From her left, one of the savage Slayers intercepted the demons racing toward her.

  Justice pushed herself even harder, ignoring the threat from behind. The one looming ahead of her was a big enough problem to consume her mind completely.

  Ronan was nearby, but the wall stood between them. She caught herself against it and felt the cold mass of its surface sucking the heat from her cheek.

  The stone was too smooth for her to climb. It was too thick for her to break through, even if she had some kind of sledgehammer.

  She heard a low moan of pain float over the top of the wall. Even in torment, she recognized Ronan’s voice instantly.

  “Ronan! I’m here!” she yelled upward, hoping her words would reach him.

  The only response she heard was an even weaker moan.

  He was dying.

  Hurry! The compulsion in her head was so strong it was almost a language now.

  Justice didn’t even bother to figure out what the woman wanted. She simply opened herself completely and let the fates use her as a tool to save him. They’d done it once before, in that dark, damp basement. She’d been compelled to feed him and save his life. Tonight, she would do so again.

  The duffel bag filled with sporting goods she’d hijacked fell from her shoulder and sagged on the ground. She ripped the zipper open and let the contents speak to her.

  The two metal objects she’d stolen were in there, along with a wad of colorful resistance bands, a pocket knife, some spare magazines for Reba, an insulated water bottle, some grip tape and a small flashing LED light for nighttime joggers.

  What the hell was she supposed to do with all that?

  “Tell me what you want!” she shouted. “What do I do?”

  The woman possessing Justice was slow to respond, but when she did, the knowledge was like a blowtorch to the surface of Justice’s brain.

  She knew exactly what to do.

  Justice ripped open the flashing LED light and used the tape to adhere it to the side of the metal water bottle. She pulled the plastic tab covering the battery and the light began to flash red and blue. Next, she unscrewed the top of the bottle, opened the pocket knife and slit a deep cut along her wrist—the kind that bled fast enough to kill a person.

  She held the bottle under the wound and bl
ed into it for as long as she dared. Then she used one of the stretchy resistance bands to tourniquet her arm and wrapped the cut in more of the tape. It wasn’t going to stop the demons from smelling her blood, but it might buy her a few more minutes of running away before she bled out.

  The screw top went back on the bottle, smeared with her blood. Once she was sure it was secure, she stepped back from the wall and flung the bottle over the top.

  “Find the bottle, Ronan!” she shouted loud enough to be heard over the sound of a Slayer ripping a demon’s body in half. “Find my blood!”

  She didn’t know if he’d heard her or not, but there was no more time to talk. The scent of her blood had drawn the attention of several demons at the edge of the fray, and all those glowing green eyes were now aimed right at her.

  Savage or not, there was no way one Slayer was going to be able to stop that mass of claws and teeth from reaching her.

  Justice might have saved Ronan’s life, but the move had cost her her own.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ronan slumped against the wall, too weak to draw a full breath. It had taken everything he had to crawl this far in the hopes that his body would be found by his allies before Synestryn could tear it apart.

  Would a Warden be summoned if the sun hit his skin after he died? He wasn’t sure. Either way, he guessed he would never know.

  He was a sack of bones inside loose skin now. He’d burned all his fat and most of his muscle to get him this far. Sadly, his nerve endings hadn’t also been consumed, because if they had, then he wouldn’t have felt the excruciating pain of his starvation.

  He thought he’d been hungry before. He’d thought he’d been near death. He’d never really known how close to death one of his kind could get before succumbing. No wonder so many of the Sanguinar sleeping beneath Dabyr could hold on for decades after they were nearly mad with hunger.

  The sky lightened further, but he couldn’t feel the growing weakness of day. He was already as weak as he could be, barely even breathing. His heart stuttered. There was so little blood left to pump through him.