In Malice (The Stolen Queen Book 1)

by A. M. Hodges

  It's almost as if it is controlled by me, like water and glamour, but also exists as a separate entity that resides within me as well. The water and glamour never fight for control. When the empath takes over, it is no longer only me, as if it has its own consciousness. Dahlia seems to understand that.

  "What happens if I am not in control," I crack one eye open to look at her.

  She ponders my question for a minute, looking for an explanation that I will understand.

  "Out of control, you are basically the equivalent to a starving demon, hell-bent on causing mindless death and destruction," she pauses to make sure I grasped her analogy. "Every person is born with at least a small bit of darkness inside of them. Throughout a lifetime, it will manifest in different ways, some smaller than others. Your darkness birthed your empath. That is why it has always seemed like its own being. To lose control to that darkness would mean losing everything that is you. Only the empath will remain."

  She is solemn as she finishes and a shiver travels down my spine. I thought I knew what it was like to almost lose control, but I'm quickly realizing that I have no idea. Even the first time with Lucah I didn't really lose control because Jeb was able to bring me back. If I had truly lost control, I wouldn't have even noticed because there would have been no more of me left. Not even my mate would be able to bring me back.

  "So how do I stay in control?"

  The four brutes that are constantly following me around are currently spread through the training ring running through drills. I watch as each one of them falters slightly when I ask the question.

  They are failing, miserably, at hiding the fact that they are listening. "If you're going to eavesdrop the four of you might as well join us," Dahlia tosses at them as she pretends to inspect her nails.

  None of them seem at all ashamed as they eagerly wander over and plop themselves on the ground around me. They hadn't even broken a sweat during their "training". Jeb winks at me and casually leans back to rest his weight on his hands.

  "Menace," I chide, earning a smirk from him.

  "Honestly, control should be considerably easier for you than it is with most Fae," Dahlia continues.

  "Why do you say that?" I ask curiously.

  "Because you were raised by humans. Having your humanity to hold on to gives you an upper hand. You weren't raised amongst the war and violence and hatred that Fae are accustomed to."

  I almost laugh, "If you believe that, then you truly know nothing about humanity."

  The only one that doesn't look confused is Miles, having grown up in the human realm with me. Even the few months that Jeb and Lucah spent there didn't give them an understanding on the true horrors that humanity is capable of.

  "I see what you are wearing around your neck. If it isn't your humanity, what else are you trying to hold on to?" Dahlia eyes me quizzically.

  For the first time, when I think about them, it doesn't hurt as much. Instead, I smile.

  "My family. The only humans who saw my differences, who knew who I truly was, and chose to love me anyways."

  "Ahhhhh. Now that I understand," she grins knowingly,

  "Perfect! Now we have your anchor. Time to get started."

  The guys jump up excitedly and crowd around me.

  "Oh no, no, no. That's not happening. You two," she points at Miles and Lucah, "Go find something far away from here to entertain yourself with."

  Both males pout but do as she asks. When she turns to address Jeb and Josiah, they cross their arms over their chests defiantly, in unison. I have a feeling that even an army wouldn't be able to move them at this point. Dahlia sighs and rolls her eyes. "Fine, you both can stay. Always remain behind her. Remember, only one of us is empath proof and it isn't either one of you."

  They grunt their acknowledgment and take a few steps back from me. Dahlia plants herself about a foot in front of me before cracking her neck and shaking out her limbs.

  "Alright, let’s see what you got. Remember, you can project how you feel to me, but you cannot influence me into feeling it myself. Your doubt won't hurt me."

  I nod my understanding and clear my head to get ready for the change.

  With a roll of my shoulders, my wings eject, and I feel the faint pull of my subconscious attempting to take over. Dahlia smirks at me as her face transforms, only minorly like mine.

  Her usually reptilian eyes are now obsidian orbs. A faint shadow appears from the bottom of her brow, continuing to cover her eye sockets, giving her eyes the appearance of being sunken in. Her facial features become minutely more defined, her cheekbones more prominent. When she speaks her voice is still hers, just more gravely.

  "Right now, you feel the pull of the empath attempting to take over, almost like your subconscious trying to pull you into a dream as you fall asleep."

  Not trusting myself to speak yet, I give a curt nod to confirm her statement.

  "This is where you learn to push back. Use your necklaces as a physical anchor, hold them if you must, to keep yourself in control. You need to be able to tap into the empath's power while remaining in control of how it's used. This is how you will be able to control things like who is affected and how intense the doubt your casting is. "

  "Like a target," a thousand voices surmise.

  "Yes. If I wanted to, I could cast doubt on Jeb and Josiah and leave you completely unaffected, even though you are standing directly in front of me. As you are now, you are basically like an explosion, affecting everyone in your path. With control, you can choose who you effect. Let's say an opposing army for example, while leaving your allies completely unscathed."

  My thinking is starting to become muddled, as surge of violence and blood lust threatening to take over. I'm starting to have a hard time following along with what she is saying, or even caring that she is speaking at all. Grappling for control, I reach for the shell casings that hang from my neck.

  "You are losing control," she says calmly, “you were at the edge of it from the very beginning. If you were in control, your voice would sound like mine as opposed to the symphony of voices that you're used to. Use your anchor to pull yourself back. Let the memories of your family wash over you, let them guide you, but don't push down the empath completely. Subdue her but hold onto enough to use her."

  I focus on my guys first. Popcorn fights in the living room. Karaoke in the city. Lucah and Miles taking bets on my sparring matches. Jeb's attempts to hide is amusement at my girly shows.

  Then the images change. Prom shopping with Paisley. The pranks we played on Lucah. Sitting on the steps after her father died. Adding a second bullet casing to my necklace. Jackson carrying me back to the house during an epic show of dramatics after I wrecked my bike. Christmases at the fire station when it was his year to work the holiday.

  The firemen all dressed up as elves while Jackson dressed up as Santa, even though I was too old to believe anymore.

  Slowly, my awareness seeps back in. I fashion a cage and shove the empath into it, still allowing myself access to her through the mental bars.

  "Now what?"

  My voice is my own again, albeit significantly lower and rougher.

  "Now, you cast doubt without losing control," she says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, "Your first instinct is going to be using your words to ensue doubt, but that isn't necessary. The empath laces your words with the feeling. You need only to tell them what to do, and then the doubt and confusion you are projecting will force them to comply."

  Huh. That's interesting. It's mind control, in a way, causing them to feel so much doubt and confusion that they think they need to comply with my instructions.

  At first, I start small. I only channel enough to cause minor confusion. Once I am comfortable using that amount while maintaining control, I pull a little more. For hours I practice, channeling more and more. Each time I begin to lose control, Dahlia talks me back into consciousness and we start again.

  Just when I am about to pull from the empaths f
ull well of power, a roar rumbles from the surrounding forest so intensely that in shakes the ground beneath our feet. Knowing I can't risk losing control in the face of an enemy, I release my hold on the empath, allowing her to return dormant inside of me. Jeb and Josiah are drawing their weapons as I turn to search the forest for a threat.

  A few moments later, Lucah's panther form breaks through the trees. He seems to be sprinting toward us in a panic, and as he draws nearer, I notice something laying across his back. As he approaches a few more feet, I see what he is carrying.

  I break into a sprint, Jeb and Josiah not far behind me, and reach him within seconds. It takes everything I have not to scream.

  Sprawled across his back is an unconscious Miles, bloody and beaten with three grotesque gashes running from his right shoulder to left hip.

  Jeb and Josiah carefully pull him to the ground as Lucah shifts back.

  "He's still breathing! We need a healer!"

  Chapter 34

  Jeb crashes through the front door of our cottage with Miles in his arms. His previously cream-colored tunic is ruined, now stained a deep red. As he lays Miles on the dining room table, Josiah goes in search of the medical kit that we keep in our bathroom. I rush to Miles's side and begin delicately peeling away the remnants of his shredded clothing. We will need access to clean and suture the wounds.

  The room spins as I see the full extent of his injuries up close. It's going to be okay. He's going to be okay. You can do this.

  Everything is fine.

  He has so many injuries that it’s difficult to tell everywhere he is bleeding from, the entirety of his skin is completely covered in the thick, sticky blood. I suspect the three gaping wounds on his torso are the cause of most of it. His chest is rising and falling in shallow breaths and I reach for his neck to feel for his pulse.

  It's there, but barely. I gulp down the bile rising in my throat and hold back the sting of oncoming tears.

  Get it together. He needs you.

  "Calm down, Krasivaya. You'll faint if you don't calm down and then you'll be of no use to him."

  I manage a curt nod to let him know that I heard him.

  "Lucah, what happened," Jeb snaps as he methodically soaks clean rags in warm water.

  Dahlia is next to him filling bowls with clean water. Jeb passes me one of the bowls and some rags and I begin cleaning the less severe wounds on Miles's extremities. He may be unconscious, but I still flinch every time I touch the rag to an open wound, worried about causing him more pain. After enough bowls are filled, Dahlia goes to the linen closet and retrieves a sheet that she begins tearing into strips to use as wound dressings.

  "We were shifting in the woods, trying to entertain ourselves and blow off steam while Reyna trained. They came out of nowhere, way too many for use to handle alone. We were just gaining the upper hand when Miles got overwhelmed and one of them got him. His body went into shock and he shifted back before he hit the ground."

  "One of what? What were they?"

  "What happened and what they are isn't important right now," I snap at my mate, "We need to focus on saving his life, you can discuss everything else later."

  He nods his understanding and takes my place at Miles's side.

  Josiah storms in with the medical kit in hand, "I sent word to Josie to contact a healer. We need to move fast, his Fae healing in the only reason he hasn't died from blood loss yet. First, we need to suture the minor injuries and stop the bleeding where we can. His body is being overwhelmed by the number of injuries that need healing."

  Jeb and Josiah start stitching together the various gashes while Dahlia and I attempt to clean off the blood covering him. Lucah is pacing by the front door, guilt and sorrow etched deep into his face. He looks pretty torn up himself, but he isn't complaining.

  "Lucah, let me clean your wounds. Dahlia can handle Miles. Come, sit down," I grab his arm and try to pull him towards the couch. His body stiffens and his feet remain planted by the door as if his legs had grown roots. He goes to argue, but with one look at my face all the fight leaves him, and he trudges into the living room.

  While he removes his shirt and gets situated, I grab a new bowl of water, clean dressings, and some rags from the kitchen. There are a few gashes that look deep enough to warrant stitches, but the rest are already healing. It is not lost to me that I've never given someone stiches before, but I'll have to give it a shot anyways. I grab an extra needle and thread from the medical kit and wash my hands before returning to my seat next to Lucah.

  "I'm not sure I know how to do this," I tell him honestly.

  He gives me a pained grin, "Ever sewn anything before? Clothes or a pillow?"

  "I made a pillow in home economics in middle school," I offer.

  "Good enough, same concept. Put about a quarter inch between each stitch. Flush the wound with water first so I don't get an infection. It won't kill me, but it hurts like a bitch," he jokes.

  I move him over to the chaise and lay him back so I can begin with the deep gash on his hip. Since it looks to be the worst of them, it's probably best I close it up first. Lucah tenses as I pinch the edges of the wound together and the room starts spinning again as I move the needle close to his skin.

  Breathe. Just Breathe.

  I finish the first wound, the center of my brows pinched in concentration, and move to the next. When I spare a quick glance at his face, his eyes are squeezed shut, like he is trying his best not to move. The second wound is considerably smaller than the first and I am done with it in no time.

  This is absolutely nothing like sewing a fucking pillow.

  Josie bursts through the door just as I finish closing the final wound. The stitching isn’t pretty, but it’ll serve its purpose.

  "The closest healer is somewhere in Dunewbe! He is on his way, but he is about a day out."

  "That's too far, he won't make it," Jeb curses under his breath.

  "Then we do our best to close him up until the healer gets here. We buy him time," Josiah states decisively.

  Josie moves in to take my place next to Lucah and I turn my attention back to Miles in the dining room. Jeb and Josiah have cleaned and closed his minor wounds and are now discussing how best to approach the three gashes. The gore of it hits me again and I feel my emotions begin to spiral out of control.

  Do something useful. Keep your mind busy.

  "I can clean it faster. Put the bowls around him. I'll clean, you stitch."

  The males immediately rearrange the bowls and begin rethreading their needles.

  Focusing on the water in the bowls, I call it to me. The water lifts at my will and pools into a swirling orb, hovering above my brother's brutalized body. It flows over him as I mold it, kneading it and pushing in out like dough. Soon it covers his entire torso like a thick, watery blanket. I push it into the wounds, searching for any sign of festering and cleaning out all contaminants. Each piece I find quickly washes away as if it never existed. I pour all my love, all my hope, all my prayers into the watery blanket that I am molding.

  "What's happening," Jeb utters in a startled gasp.

  So entranced with my task, I didn't even notice when the water began to change.

  I am vaguely aware that the clear substance has begun to glow like liquid starlight. I'm not entirely sure what is happening, but I feel in my bones that I shouldn't stop. So, I keep cleaning, keep searching. Another gasp sounds from beside me, but I refuse to let it distract me from Miles.

  "How is this possible," Josiah’s awestruck tone infiltrates my concentration.

  A pained moan from Miles slowly pulls me the rest of the way back to reality.

  What in the actual fuck? No fucking way. That isn't possible.

  The wounds are slowly, but surely, knitting themselves back together.

  "That's impossible. Water abilities possess no healing properties. I would know if they did," Josiah's confusion is quickly morphing into irritation. He hates being caught off guard almost as much as he
hates the possibility that there is something that he doesn’t know about his water affinity.

  "Maybe not yours," Josie marvels, "But water itself is said to have healing properties. Humans swear it can eliminate acne, help with weight loss, assist in maintaining blood pressure, and lots of other things. We were all aware of how extraordinary Reyna is.

  It isn't surprising that there are things that we still don't know."

  "What is acne?" Josiah's face scrunches up, even more confused. If I weren’t currently an emotional wreck, I would have laughed.

  The watery glow begins to fade as the last gash is fully closed. Miles inhales a deep shaky breath and his eyes slowly blink open.

  "Damn. I'm not dead, am I? Laying on a table surrounded by all of you wasn't exactly what I had in mind for heaven," he groans as he tries to sit up, "Unless this is Hell, and you're all here to torture me."

  A noise that is a mixture of a laugh and a sob escapes my throat as tears stream down my face. I shove Josiah to the side and half crawl on the table to get to my brother, my best friend. He laughs as my body hits him at full force and I hold onto him like he could blink out of existence any moment.

  "I'm so glad you're okay. Don't you ever scare me like that again, asshole!"

  "Figures I almost die and you're calling me names like it's my fault," he rolls his eyes.