The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  She floated on her back for a while, watching the reflection of the water ripple across the mysterious surface of the cave ceiling. With her ears submerged, there was nothing but the hollow echo of lapping water and the rushing sound of her own blood pumping, steady and sure. It was quiet but not peaceful. She waited for the flashbacks to come, because they would — she’d been through too much and her defenses were shot to hell, and she’d just found out that what Alan had done to her wasn’t a mistake, it was prophesied. Fated. And the exact same thing had happened to Arima, over seven thousand years before her. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it also meant Emma was now this so-called vampire wellspring.

  Alan had wanted to know if she could control the hybrids with her power as Caller of the Blood. What would he do if he found out she was capable of creating and controlling an entirely new lineage of vampires?

  Fatima’s face moved into Emma’s sight line. She took her hand off Emma’s shoulder, held it palm up, waiting, eyes in shadow. When Emma raised her own hand and touched palms with the warrior priestess, the pressure that had been building in Emma’s chest evaporated, taking the imminent anxiety attack with it. Fatima gave her a quick smile and moved off into the water, ducking under with a flash of sleek dark hair.

  With the panic gone, Emma decided to follow suit. She gained her feet, slicking her hair back, smiled when she saw Fern sitting cross-legged on the stone bench, the flickering light of torches and reflected crystal playing over his face as he rested with Leah standing guard close by. Then she dove under, letting the hot, fizzing water wash dirt and tears and grief away.

  That was when the first gunshot rang out.

  34

  The sound was muffled but unmistakable and Fern’s agony shot through her only a split second before her own terror. Emma’s heart leapt and she gasped, choked, then kicked for the surface. She came up clawing hair from her eyes and managed to suck a breath in before strong hands grabbed hold of her ankles and dragged her straight back down.

  Emma went ballistic. The mark on her hand flared but there was nothing to hit. She kicked and bucked, felt her heels connect with something, but there were hands on her everywhere and the water was dark and her fucking hair was all over her face and the merge was screaming in her head with white-hot pain. She couldn’t hold her own scream in; she hit something that felt like a human nose as she jerked her head back, but then she sucked water in and couldn’t stop.

  Red Sun touched her mind and roared. He was wild with confusion, throwing himself at something — the impact rocked her through the bond, combining with Fern’s pain and the terrible weight of her own drowning lungs.

  Drowning. Hands holding her down, so many hands. The water was getting hotter and her nose and lungs were burning. Buried alive, her body screamed.

  Dying.

  No no no she screamed back, and then there was nothing —

  But darkness and the dry, cool smell of sand. Emma blinked. Her heart felt like it weighed a million pounds. The merge was intact but silent. She opened her mouth to scream for Fern and water came out instead of words.

  Emma, sister, listen now.

  Emma closed her lips and covered her mouth with both hands. Arima?

  I’ve been trying to come to you for days, but the wards here are too strong. You must get out of the monastery. They will come after you. They will kill you if they can.

  Arima, I’m dying. A sob escaped, water running out between Emma’s fingers. Fern is dying! Then small, cool fingers touched Emma’s wrists, pulled her hands gently away from her face.

  Those small hands cupped Emma’s jaw. Not yet. A soft, feminine mouth pressed against Emma’s, lips closed in a chaste kiss.

  Then Arima pinched Emma’s nose shut. Emma gasped; Arima sealed their mouths together; Emma tasted honey and blood and night air and —

  She opened her eyes. Bubbles fizzed against her eyelashes, dark hair swirled around her face like seaweed. She felt Arima’s breath in her lungs, an impossible gift, and she felt the many hands holding her down begin to relax, thinking she was almost gone.

  Emma tucked her knees, opened her marked hand, and tore down the shields that held her power in check. At the same time she kicked for the surface with every last scrap of strength she had, not realizing Arima had given her more than breath. She exploded out of the water, gasping when the air hit her face, had a second to glimpse chaos, and then she slammed her marked hand back into the water as she came down.

  Water boiled and erupted around Emma. Screams filled the cavern. Oh God, Fatima had been in the pool when she —

  A dark-haired figure rose out of the water, but it wasn’t Fatima. Emma brought her marked hand up, aiming for Summer’s chest, knowing the vampire would be too fast — and she was, but she merely captured Emma’s wrist and started dragging her out of the pool.

  Fatima was suddenly there, every inch of her scalded angry red, but she was alive and frantic. She brought her gun up and aimed at Summer’s head; the vampire batted the gun away like it was an insect and grabbed Fatima, and for a second Fatima’s eyes flared jackal-gold and her face filled with fear. Then her brows came down and she nodded.

  “Go!” Fatima grabbed Emma’s other arm and pushed through the churning water toward the steps, water hissing and raining down all around them. They gained the first two steps out of the pool and Summer yanked them to a halt. “Get down and stay here,” she indicated the last two steps before the lip of the pool, but Emma caught sight of Fern’s body through the geysering water, and she sprinted for him.

  She made it three steps before her stomach contracted and she fell to her knees, vomiting water. Fern!

  His pain fluoresced through the merge, thin shields dissolving. He was on the other side of the stone bench, and as Emma looked up, straining to see through falling water, he rolled to face her, eyes black from lid to lid. They widened. Down!

  Gunfire roared and bullets flew overhead, muzzle flash leaving hot arcs in the air. Emma was suddenly crushed beneath someone, and she felt the impact as bullets tore into the body protecting hers.

  Leah’s voice rang out, a shout of anger and defiance, high pitched snarls rising to drown her out — and then the gunfire stopped.

  A moment later, the water stopped too.

  Emma’s ears hissed and everything sounded like she was underwater again. She was surprised she could even hear anything at all. Steam billowed, Emma’s breath sawed in and out of her chest, and into the silence, someone wailed.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Leah’s voice. The wail went on, hopeless and heartbreaking. “Emma?” Leah sounded like her vocal chords were about to stop working, her beast was so close.

  “Here,” Summer called out, and rolled off Emma to lay on her back. Her eyes were flat silver disks and her face was pinched in pain. Emma turned and scrambled toward Fern, reaching for him. His gray top was plum colored now with blood, but he was breathing, and his grip on her hand was strong. He met her eyes.

  “Shoulder,” he said. “More bullets in my arm, but they’re almost healed. Shoulder was the bad one. The vampire saved you.”

  Emma could only nod. Her ears were ringing and her tongue felt like she’d been sucking on a battery. She looked up, around, and found Leah on the other side of the cavern with Ifrah.

  The maiden was sprawled on the ground, face half covered in blood, Leah’s gun aimed at her head. Her wail turned to harsh sobs. There were bodies on the ground — maidens. Emma swung around to see more bodies floating facedown in the pool, flesh blistered and red; Fatima stood by the edge, gun back in her hand, but none of the maidens in the pool were moving.

  “My God,” Emma whispered.

  “Tell us what the fuck is going on, or I end you like I did your sisters,” Leah said to Ifrah. The maiden shook her head, nose almost touching the wet stone floor, sobs wracking her small frame.

  “We are all telepathically linked,” Summer said, rolling to her feet. “The Brotherhood. When Ifrah found out that t
he merge between Emma and the Aranan is the only thing shielding her against Alan, she decided the risk was too great. I tried to get here in time. If I had been here, maybe you would have listened to reason, Ifrah, and your sisters would not be dead.” There was banked fury in Summer’s voice, but her face gave nothing away.

  Leah never looked away from Ifrah. “What risk was too great?”

  Summer answered again. “The risk that Alan might possess the Caller of the Blood and trigger the failsafe. Ifrah and the others think it’s likely the failsafe has not yet been triggered because Alan cannot establish contact with Emma telepathically. Once he does, the failsafe goes, and Ifrah and her sisters will be slaves until the end of time.”

  Emma and Fern both spoke in unison. “What?”

  Summer glanced their way. “Jonin and Nadir are true believers, they actually think they are dedicated to saving the world, but the maidens serve the Brotherhood out of fear. If the failsafe goes, they’ll be slaves to the Brotherhood, thralls with no minds of their own. That was the promise sworn to long ago, so the maidens are just as dedicated to preventing the Caller of the Blood from coming into power as Jonin and Archi are. Keti’s loyalty is only to her.” Summer jerked her chin in Ifrah’s direction. “He loves her, and he will do anything to keep her.”

  Emma’s heart dropped like a stone. “The others.”

  Summer spread her hands. “I cannot be everywhere at once. I can get you out, but we have to go.”

  Emma shook her head, reaching for Red Sun via the pledge bond and the telepathic link combined, and found nothing. She held up a hand when Summer advanced on her. “Give me a second.” She exhaled, focusing on the most recent pledge bond, picturing eyes the color of winter clouds. Ivan?

  Good to hear your voice devotchka. You are safe?

  Emma squeezed Fern’s hand. Yes.

  Shadi and I are evading attack. Those maidens. Red Sun and Horne are gone, and so is the passageway that led to the baths. This place is not right.

  I can’t contact Red.

  We will find him, Ivan said, his mind so cold with resolve that Emma had to believe him. Get out of here if you can — I’d rather not be worrying over you and trying to rescue your Red Sun and your jaguar at the same time.

  I can’t leave without you, all of you. We go together or —

  Ivan’s snarl reverberated down the pledge bond. Our best chance for Red to dematerialize us out of here is if we are under open sky — I told you, this place isn’t right. It’s not warded; it’s something else. Passageways disappearing, walls where there were doors. You are not stupid, devotchka, get out so we can get to you, and go as far and as fast as you can.

  “I like him,” Summer said. “He’s right. We must get out of the monastery and we are running out of time.”

  Emma’s skin crawled. Fucking vampires. “Fine.” Find them, Ivan. She caught a mental image of gray fur and long, sharp teeth, and then he was gone. She blinked and met Summer’s silver eyes. “Why are you helping us? If that’s what you’re really doing.”

  Summer cocked her head, one way and then the other, like an owl, the movement freeze-frame eerie. “You can’t believe in a vampire with morals?”

  “Is that what you are?”

  “Maybe.” Summer yawned, the same way a coyote might do to feign indifference before leaping to attack. “Maybe my problem’s more a philosophical one. Maybe I spent almost seven thousand years trying to save the world from the wrong doom.”

  “You mean from me. This secret prophecy.”

  “Prophecy’s a tricksy thing, I’ll wager you know that better than most.”

  Emma clamped down on her shields — Summer had already proved she could read minds undetected. “So what’s the real doom?”

  Summer’s face twisted. “I can’t tell you. The oath of the Brotherhood is bound with more than blood. Believe me, I have tried to find a way to tell you and my tongue literally refuses to shape the words. Fuck!” Summer turned away, spitting out a string of what could only be curses in that other, unknown language. When she turned back her face was composed and beautiful as ever, but her eyes shone bright and glossy as mercury. “Of all the Brotherhood, I am the one who has spent the most time out in the real world. I like this world, and I don’t want it to end, I don’t want it destroyed.” She threw her hands up. “I even like the ease of the hunt. But I started to question the Brotherhood’s solution. I wondered if we could do as we always pretended we were meant to — protect the Caller of the Blood, find her, keep her safe. I knew they wouldn’t do it, so over the centuries, I looked for you myself.” Summer’s eyes faded from bright silver back to gray, completing the illusion that she was human, and might have a conscience. “When I came across the rumors that you had been found, I hid it from the others, and kept trying to find you, which proved exceptionally difficult. Having spent so long plotting your rescue, I’m loathe to let you die now, even if you have completed the ritual and triggered the prophecy.” She spread her hands, the fingers too long. “I’m a vampire, after all.”

  Emma clenched her teeth. “That makes no sense. Vampires are sociopaths.”

  Summer grinned without humor. “And sociopaths often function according to their own unique ethical code.”

  “All right, moving on.” Leah gestured at Ifrah with the gun. The maiden was quiet now, face hidden behind the tangled curtain of silver hair, but her body still convulsed with grief. “What do we do with her?”

  “Kill her,” Summer said, closing the distance to Emma and offering one hand. “She will try for Emma again if you give her the —”

  “No! ” Emma exploded to her feet, hands out. Leah lifted her brows. Emma’s heart thundered, knowing how fast Leah was, knowing it could’ve been over in a split second. “Leah, you can’t, it’s wrong.”

  Leah’s eyes were amber, but her expression still managed to soften into sympathy. “Em, you know my job isn’t about that. It’s about keeping you safe.” Her glance flickered to the other bodies, dead maidens. Emma counted nine — four in the pool, five in crumpled heaps around Ifrah.

  “The others were killed in self defense.” Emma fought to keep her voice steady when all she wanted to do was scream. “This is different.”

  Summer made a frustrated sound, and a single, silent note of psychic power pulsed through the chamber, making the crystals on the ceiling hum. “We must go. ”

  “Can you lock her in here somehow?”

  “She will get out,” Summer said. “And then she will come after you. How will you feel if she kills one of your people trying to get to you?”

  “Terrible. The same way I’ll feel if we execute her now. Ifrah, get up.” The maiden raised her head at Emma’s command, eyes swollen from grief.

  “Kill me,” Ifrah pleaded. “Do it.”

  Emma closed the distance between them and stood over her. “No.” She held her right hand out, palm up, and let the mark flare to life. “You’re coming with us. You can come quietly, or I can knock you out cold. Which one will it be?”

  Ifrah frowned. “What good am I to you?” She laughed, an empty sound, her voice thick with tears. “The others will not spare your life in exchange for my safety. Besides, I am ancient and immortal, in ways you could never hope to comprehend, and I doubt anything you could do would —”

  Emma backhanded her. The power reverberated up Emma’s arm, making her teeth chime, and the maiden dropped like a stone. “Summer, you aren’t injured, unlike the rest of us,” Emma told the vampire. “Grab her and get us out of here.”

  Summer lifted her upper lip at Emma as she passed, flashing fang. But she lifted Ifrah over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry and headed for the back of the cavern. “Follow me. And hurry.”

  They hurried. Summer led them through a hidden entrance to a narrow passageway beyond, Leah right behind her, Fatima covering their retreat. Fern found Emma’s hand in the dark, and they ran.

  Summer gave off the only light, a faint silver glow bleeding off her. T
he passageway twisted and turned, sometimes so narrow it was barely more than a tunnel through solid rock, other times widening so that Fatima could run abreast of Emma and Fern, her eyes like amber beacons in the dark. Emma had no idea where they were, which direction they were headed — she knew Fern could see little more than she could in the dark, and even he couldn’t keep his innate sense of direction through the switchbacks and hairpin turns in the path Summer took them.

  Emma’s bare feet had somehow healed — probably from the surge of power when she regained consciousness in the pool — but the passageway was littered with small stones that cut her feet all over again. She was too juiced-up from power and adrenaline to feel the pain. She wasn’t scalded from the pool the way Fatima was, but her chest ached like her lungs had been replaced with iron and her nose wouldn’t stop running and her hair was wet and tangled and slapping against her back and thighs like rope. Her stomach churned from swallowing so much water. Red Sun and Horne were MIA, and Ivan and Shadi were on their own trying to find them, and all Emma and the rest of them had was the clothes on their backs, a couple of guns, a rogue vampire who somehow didn’t want them dead and a maiden who’d tried to kill them all.

  Emma stumbled in the dark. So many dead maidens.

  Fern held her up, urged her on. Those deaths should be on Ifrah’s conscience, not yours. You didn’t see her. She commanded them, and she wasn’t sure of the odds, but she gave the order anyway. She sacrificed them, Em. She took that chance. If Summer’s telling the truth, she did it so she could stay with Keti.