He let out a long sigh of satisfaction. Then he flinched. And Addison knew shit was about to change. Hopefully Micah could get into Graham’s head or Graham would come back into himself before he killed her. His tongue felt almost like sandpaper across her skin, and he pulled himself off her. She lunged away from him, but he caught her by the back of her shirt. Fuck! This was why she didn’t wear leather! Any other fabric would have ripped and she could’ve gotten free.
Her boots slipped on the straw as he pulled her towards him, growling from deep in his chest. She used all her weight and strength to get away, but he was so strong and she was so tired. Graham grunted and tossed her straight up into the air, maybe in a last ditch effort to stop himself from killing her. Problem was that vampires weren’t known for their weakness.
The wood ceiling splintered when she hit it. Just as quickly, she fell, wood and dust raining on top of her. As soon as she landed, she dragged herself away, barely avoiding Graham when he lunged at her, his eyes burning red, the chain snapping but holding him back.
He shook with violence and yanked on the chain. Every muscle bulged as he fought for control and freedom. She knew Micah had gotten through when Graham groaned and crouched down into a ball, clenching his eyes shut as he tried to keep quiet. All of them doing their part so the witches would continue with the ritual and share the poison that coursed through Graham’s veins. His body strained against the power of her blood, trying to fight its effects and his own reaction. His magic fighting hers—he would lose.
“They are drinking,” Micah said quietly in her mind. Since he was truly immortal, he wouldn’t die of blood loss, and neither would the demon. But the others would. Logan and Graham would.
“Say something nice to Logan if you can, Micah.” Strangely, even the voice inside her head sounded weak. She wanted to sit up more but her body was practically useless, other than sending pain messages back to her brain.
Lightheaded beyond belief, she put her hand to her neck and felt a trickle of blood running away from where it was supposed to be. That was a problem. Graham must not have been able to close it all the way, so Addison was bleeding out. Cool. The more she bled, the foggier things got and the less she could feel her body.
On the bright side, she couldn’t feel the pain, either.
When the witches’ screams of violence and confusion started, Addison wanted to yell at them to shut the fuck up. But she was too tired. It had been a long day. Was it still daytime? How’d she get here? Where was she?
“You have done a good thing,” Micah said. “For the children and for the Highworld. And for me. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Good thing she could talk to him without moving her lips. “But I think I’m going to rest for a while. Wake me up when Rhyse gets here, ’kay?”
“You are very brave, Addison. Go with peace.”
“Yeah.” She slumped a little lower on the hay bale and closed her eyes. “I think I will. Bye, Micah.”
Fifty-eight
Rhyse opened his eyes when Davyn tightened his grip around his bicep. He saw only black and the demon staring at him open-mouthed.
“What the fuck did you say to him, Vamp?”
“I am not sure.” Obviously the Devil had agreed, but he didn’t know anything else. His memory was blurred, his mind unable to bond moments and logic and sensations together. Not remembering the specifics of a deal you made with the Devil didn’t seem like a very good thing.
“Well, it was exactly the right thing, whatever it was.” Davyn busted up laughing. “I can’t believe it. I was completely sure he would claim you for good, and I would have to pretend to feel bad when I explained it to your people. But you did it. Six months isn’t much, but—Shit!” The demon was practically dancing. “Six months is something, right? Not to mention, the whole trip was a good reminder of why I’ll never do anything to get sucked all the way back down.” He slapped Rhyse on the back. “We’re almost there. Just need to go up and then we can kick some witch ass.”
Rhyse blindly followed Davyn through a darkness only surpassed by that of his memory.
“He must really like you, Vamp.”
Somehow the Devil liking him didn’t seem like a very good thing, either. “Why do you say that?”
“Do you really think this is what hell feels like for us? Or how it usually feels on the lower levels? No way. He made it easy, practically pain-free. Then again, the way he tossed us out could also mean he hates you. But, either way, the big guy is definitely developing some serious feelings for you.”
“How flattering.” Rhyse’s reactions and mind off-balance, he slammed into the demon when he stopped.
“You have no idea what happened, do you?”
Rhyse shook his head with more trepidation than he ever remembered feeling. He’d planned a simple, succinct statement, but he didn’t know what actually came out of his mouth. Or if anything had been said. The Devil could’ve chosen something else out of Rhyse’s mind, something more desirable to him. Whose soul had he traded?
“Huh.” Davyn nodded his head slightly, grimacing. “Well, it might not be bad news.”
“That is not terribly encouraging. Do you remember anything?”
“Since I wasn’t directly involved in the deal, other than being the beneficiary of a pretty nice chunk of extra time, I didn’t get to hear the conversation.” There was a conversation? “But I know you’re not allowed to come back uninvited. And if I bring you here again, my ass is his in all the horrible ways you’re imagining right now.”
Perhaps it would be all right. After all, there were worse things than being barred from hell, such as being in hell.
A moment later, Rhyse saw light, felt the ground under his feet, knew they were above the crust. Thank the powers. Yes, everything would be all right.
“Oh, fuck,” Davyn muttered. “This ain’t good.”
Rhyse saw the bodies as soon as his eyes adjusted. It looked as if they’d been torn apart. The few who were still alive huddled together in the corner near a large wooden crate, weeping.
“They used to be witches,” Davyn said in awe. Rhyse tried to sense their power and knew. Nothing—their magic completely gone, the bodies probably the result of the violence Addison’s blood had spurred in them.
He shouted her name.
“Up here, Vampire,” came a voice from the second floor. Not hers. Her angel’s.
“If they move,” he said to Davyn, “burn them.” He climbed the ladder, still reeling from his visit to hell, every movement a new source of pain. But he didn’t stop. “Addison!” There were more bodies along the wall. A werewolf, a demon. Then a male seer, and M. “Where is she?”
From his knees, the angel nodded farther down the line.
Rhyse was already moving. He passed a witch, a mage, and then another seer before he saw her. “Addison. Thank the powers.”
She opened her eyes halfway. “Rhyse?” Sunlight momentarily muted by the eclipse came through the broken ceiling, bathing her in soft light. She was on the ground, leaning against a small pile of straw. The blood of the witches she’d killed covered her clothing and arms. She was obviously exhausted, but at least she was all right.
“You will be the death of me, Addison, and I am immortal. I was…very worried about you.” He let out a sigh of relief and stepped to the edge of the sunlight, knew it would get brighter any moment as the moon continued its journey across the sky. “Come here.”
“I can’t.”
Of course, she must be chained like the other beings. While the sunlight would burn him, as long as he didn’t stay in it, he would recover, and he was far too impatient to wait for long.
Before he’d taken the first step into the light, she yelled at him to stop. “You can’t get close to me! Not yet. My blood…”
The blood…“It cannot be yours.” All of that? It was impossible and made no sense. The witches had bled, not Addison, certainly not this much. Not when only a drop would change them. “It cannot
—tell me it is not yours.” He took a step towards the light. Towards her.
“Rhyse, no.”
“Tell me it is not yours.” His words were nothing more civil and controlled than a growl. “Tell me right now.” He took another step, the sunlight burning his hand where it touched, his mind refusing to accept what he was seeing.
“Stop. If you lose who you are trying to help me, then you lose yourself for nothing. Because that will hurt me more.” She dragged her hand to her chest, over her heart, and he saw the metal cuff and chain that bound her to the wall. “I do not want to take away who you are, Rhyse. I do not want to change you.” Her voice lowered. “Except for the way you speak because it is rubbing off on me, and I hate it.”
He stood still, part of him understanding what she wanted, but none of him caring. Nothing would stop him. Not even her.
“Just wait, okay? Wait for it to dry a little.” She looked up slowly. “And the sun…I forgot about the sun…shit…you can’t be in the sun.” Her head fell to the side and her eyes began to close. “This really sucks.”
“Addison.” He moved because he had to, his mind and body in total agreement that, if he went into the beyond, it would be with her in his arms.
And she wouldn’t follow him.
“You bastard, go away.” Her voice was severe even in its weakness. He didn’t know how he’d missed it. Too relieved to find her? Too arrogant to believe he could lose her?
His skin sizzled, blistered. But hell had been worse and she was the reason he’d made it through. When he broke the cuff off her wrist, he understood what he had to do. If he carried her into the shadows and their blood were to mix, there would be nothing to stop his reaction. He would take her life.
So he knelt down at her side and wrapped the chain around his neck. “If our blood mixes, you must run. This chain will slow me down for only a moment, so you must run to the angel. He is weak, but he is our best chance.” Her only chance. His fangs tore through his burnt wrist and held it above her mouth. “Open, Addison. Take me into you again.”
Her tongue darted out to where a drop of his blood landed. Her whole body shuddered, and she opened wide, wanting and needing more of him. So he gave. As the sun burned through his shirt, scorching every part of him it could reach, Rhyse gave.
He’d never wanted to touch her more, knowing this might be his last chance to ever do so. But he couldn’t risk it. For her sake, not his. Her blood was everywhere, and her heartbeat was still weak. They needed more time—he couldn’t die before she healed.
When someone came up behind him, he turned and hissed before he knew who it was.
“You think you can take me now, Vamp?” Davyn threw a horse blanket over him, covering Rhyse’s entire body and most of Addison’s. “Between hell and this? Not gonna happen. But we can revisit it later if you’re still around.”
“Take me down if I try to hurt her, Demon.” Rhyse burned as if he was still in the sun, but he knew Davyn had just saved Addison’s life. If their blood mixed, Rhyse would lose his power to heal and would die as a human. How apropos.
It might already be too late. The UV rays had burrowed into his cells, and their effects would continue like coals in a fireplace—harmless-looking but with the potential to do far more damage than flames ever could. Already his weakness was apparent—the gash he fed Addison from remained open and unhealed. She gripped his forearm and pulled unconsciously, needing more from him, more of him.
He would let her drain him if she needed him to.
Dat vitae. The most dangerous creature their world had ever known.
Addison. The most perfect creature he’d ever known.
He heard her call his name as if from another plane, his mind unable to reconcile it with the fact that she was right beside him. As she sat up, her voice held more urgency, her expression more concern.
She would live. He wouldn’t. That was fair. He’d lived for hundreds of years, thought he’d experienced everything. But Addison had proven him wrong. And because he loved her for it, now he had experienced everything. It was enough.
Fifty-nine
After chucking all her bloody clothes over the edge of the hayloft, Addison cursed at Rhyse for a while, holding him, waiting for him to start arguing with her. Maybe she’d taken too much of his blood.
The demon who showed up with Rhyse would know, but he and Micah were busy with the children. The kids still had a chance for normal lives, something that should be protected at all costs.
The demon kept his distance but had, shockingly and grudgingly, offered to make Micah look pristinely angelic until the children’s minds were wiped of everything that had happened to them. Hopefully, it would be the one and only time they were part of this world.
“Wanna hear something funny, Rhyse? The witches found out about this prophecy. It’s called ‘The Rising.’ Makes me think of bread, but whatever. The prophecy is about this seer who’s only pretending to be a seer, and is actually this weird creation that can wipe out all the supers. Anyway, this stupid chick creates a massive rebellion and complete power shift, so the humans are on the top and everybody else is on the bottom. Crazy, right?”
She rocked him back and forth because it seemed like the natural thing to do. But it wasn’t—there was nothing natural about any of this. “So, because no one really knows anything about prophecies and they’re all total bullshit to begin with, the witches decide to make the prophecy happen. They create this other being by blending the races and doing some hocus-pocus, and shove this soul into some poor warlock’s kid. And then the pissed-off warlock kills them before dying himself, of course. Because if he didn’t, the idiot daughter of his would actually know what she was before things got too wacky. So now there’s this girl who can un-super every super in the Heights, and she doesn’t know what the fuck she is, and her mom is mentally unstable and can’t tell her. It’s totally hysterical, right?” Not that there was anything to laugh about.
“A fairytale.” Even in a whisper, her voice cracked. “So I was right—my life is a fairytale. Which means it should have a happy ending for somebody, right? And since most of the key players in the story are dead or don’t remember anything, that means that we should have the happy ending, don’t you think?” She paused to take a breath deeper than the shallow, sobby ones she’d been taking but not by much.
“Rhyse?” She sighed, not knowing what was going to happen. He hadn’t dusted, but death-by-sunlight was slow. Maybe he was already dead and she was rocking and talking to a dead body—deader body—and any second he would dust in her arms. It wasn’t as if there was a simple fucking answer, like him having a goddamn pulse she could check. She couldn’t focus enough to sense his power, plus there were a lot of supers around whose power was fluctuating and confusing.
Oh yeah, she was also weeping like a lunatic. She felt so alone and useless and stupid and scared. “What am I supposed to do now? I don’t know what to do.”
“Continue talking,” Rhyse mumbled. “But no more crying—it makes it harder to understand what you are saying.”
When she laughed it sounded half-laugh, half-sob, entirely non-attractive. “I’m running out of things to talk about. How long until you get better? ’Cause you’re still kinda crispy looking, and that’s not a good look for you. As a vampire, you should totally be ashamed of your appearance right now. So do something about it stat. Can you do it?”
“Not without blood. Human blood.”
“We’re kind of out of that.” Without giving her a say at all, Micah, the demon, and the were had all agreed not to tell anyone what had happened. The witches’ minds would be wiped and they would go lead human lives. That bit was Micah’s solution—everyone else thought they should all be killed. But not telling anyone meant that none of Rhyse’s people could bring him a snack.
She looked around as if a human with good veins might have appeared in the last few minutes. Even though Graham was human now, and would probably agree just because Rhyse wa
s his king, he would die doing it. Logan was still unconscious. If Micah hadn’t assured Addison he would live, she’d never have thought he would. The witch didn’t make it, and the mage disappeared right after she was freed.
Someone shook the ladder and then started climbing up. With the condition Rhyse was in, they couldn’t run for it.
“I have a vamp, and I’m not afraid to use him!” she called out.
“Addison? Is that you?” Dawn’s head appeared and then she came the rest of the way up. “Oh, powers! Are you…?” She walked forward hesitantly, glancing down to the scene below, turning away from the bodies the moment she laid eyes on them. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.”
“I think we just won the jackpot, babe,” Addison whispered as she eased herself out from under Rhyse’s head. “Dawn, if you wanna make things right, get your ass over here and donate to the cause.” Thankfully, being surrounded by dead witches, pissed off supers, and an absolutely livid Addison reminded Dawn how much she wanted to help.
As Rhyse pulled from Dawn’s wrist, Addison turned away and tried to close her ears. At least he wasn’t moaning. Because that would’ve made it an even more excruciating experience. He needed human blood to live, and the process had biological side effects that couldn’t be controlled, but Addison didn’t have to watch it happen. And she wished she didn’t have to hear it happen.
No more than a minute later, she heard Dawn whimper a complaint, like she’d been so close to the big O but hadn’t quite gotten there. Good. The woman had set Addison up for death. Was it that strange to be holding a bit of a grudge?
“Go to Graham,” Rhyse said. Dawn walked dazedly towards Rhyse’s marshal. “Do not drain her, Graham.”
“My lord…” came the weak reply.
“He doesn’t need it. Not anymore.”
Rhyse looked at her and then turned towards Graham who still knelt nearby, ready to attend his king even though he was no longer of the same race. “Later you will provide me a detailed account of exactly what happened, Graham. Understood?”
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 30
