Blood Ties

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  “Elis,” Melinoë said from where she leaned in the doorway arms crossed over her midsection.

  I ignored her as I was still figuring out how to have this conversation.

  “You’re friends with an Aanzhenii,” she pressed. There wasn’t quite an accusatory tone to her voice, but something was buried there I couldn’t decipher.

  “Not a friend—I have a very misbegotten youth,” I corrected as I rifled through the cupboards under the sink. “I first met Ashur when I...may or may not have attempted an immolation spell on him as a kid.”

  “You tried to set him on fire?”

  I pulled out a stack of towels and cloths, and soaked one that I took with me as I sat on the edge of the jacuzzi tub. “I was maybe seven or eight. Mom and Aunt Roo took me out, a little trip into the city trying to treat me like a normal kid, although in our household it meant hitting an occult shop around the corner from Magic Alley. And I wandered out of their sight. Ran into Ashur, knew the Aanzhenii were scary, and tried to set him on fire with magic.” I hissed as I pressed the cloth to the wound. No first aid supplies, and if it got infected, I might need good old-fashioned antibiotics. Not that many of them worked these days. “He thought it was hilarious. Every few years after that, he’d pop up somewhere. Just be standing in an empty alleyway, watching beside a tree if I was in the park. Just for a few minutes, long enough that I’d notice without straining reality too badly. Five or six years ago I got into trouble and while he didn’t help me—I wouldn’t let him—we struck up an agreement where he’d help me if I called him, but I’d have to pay a price.”

  “So you got the tattoo,” she said.

  I nodded. “It was...kind of like a dare to myself? Temptation. For a couple of years, I’d do every risky thing I could think of, got in real trouble, and never used it. Swore I’d die first.”

  “Why did you give in tonight?”

  I looked up at her. “Because you were there. It’s one thing to get myself killed because of pride, another to get someone else killed. I’m not a total asshole.”

  She eased into the room then, relaxing a little with that admission, and slid off her jacket to rest on the edge of the tub. Leaves tumbled from her hair as she went, dirt tracking across the floor under her boots as it had mine.

  “Did Dev know?” she asked.

  “You’ve had more contact with him than I have recently—in all your Aanzhenii research, did he indicate he knew?”

  She shook her head. “With you being—for lack of a better term—up close and personal with one, it seems like you’d be more help with his work, so I guess he never found out.”

  It wasn’t like I advertised it—that was the reason I’d opted for the tattoo on my thigh rather than somewhere easier to reach in an emergency. Less likely to be seen since I lived in leggings and jeans.

  Melinoë had worn a long-sleeved t-shirt this time and pushed her sleeves up, not far enough to show any of her own scarring. Silently she washed her hands in the second sink and seemed to be thinking. “What’s he want for payment?”

  “I have no idea.” I dumped the bloody cloth in the tub and dried my leg with another towel. “Not looking forward to finding out but I’m not sure we can go on the run from him and the swarm while looking for Dev.”

  She silently soaked a cloth and then rubbed the dried blood from her temple, avoiding my eyes in the mirror. “You believe that other one, then? That Dev wasn’t there?”

  “He had no reason to lie to us, and I think we have to operate on the assumption that Dev is still out there. The impression I got of him and that woman leaving the motel room suggested he left on his own—he could’ve been abducted by the townspeople, but I suspect he was headed for his car. He could be anywhere and we’re at square one—zero leads.”

  We silently finished cleaning up. I shook the dirt from my jeans and then drew them back on.

  “Realistically,” I said as I scooped up my boots, “whatever Ashur wants will probably take precedence to finding Dev. If you want to take off—”

  “You called in a favour to save me—least I can do is see it through and help.”

  I met her eyes and we stared at one another for a moment, weight to her gaze as I was sure I had in my own.

  It left me a little unsettled, to be honest—I wasn’t used to someone having my back like that. I had friends who weren’t terribly close, I worked with a few other witches, but we sort of drifted in and out of one another’s spheres. I largely did things on my own. None of them knew about Ashur—not even my dad. Because he’d probably murder me.

  I stuffed down the feeling of discomfort and didn’t say anything as I passed her for the bedroom and doorway behind. Melinoë followed without further remark.

  It was actually a two-floor apartment—we were on the upper level that had two more closed doors connected by a hall, the balcony across from the bedroom overlooking a chandelier over the lower level. The staircase down curved to the right and we descended.

  Ashur couldn’t possibly live here, could he? Did the Aanzhenii have real estate agents? Pay rent? How could they sleep in a bed with those wings—or did they sleep at all? Their numbers in this dimension were around thirty to forty from the reports I read, and they didn’t interact with human society—or demonic—except to take something. There was some kind of structure to their society, probably, but their dimension was so far removed from ours that no one had crossed over to study them. Not like demons, some of whom had been observed and discussed for centuries.

  I found my way through the brightly lit downstairs and encountered the living room again. Ashur wasn’t sitting—awkward with those wings—but stood by the wide modern fireplace. I did understand the appeal of this as even a temporary shelter: the ceilings ran twelve feet with tall doorways, a comfortable height for his own seven feet.

  He stared at the fire, the flickering orange glow odd against his pale eyes and translucent skin. It almost gave him warmth and a humanish appearance.

  Almost.

  Ashur didn’t look up at my approach. It was an open concept apartment, the darkened kitchen just ten feet to the right, so I headed there with a boldness I didn’t feel. I’d long suspected Ashur didn’t kill me as a child, as he well could have, because he was amused by my audacity at that age; while I might be pushing my luck, some bravado would hopefully keep me seeming interesting enough not to murder after all.

  There was nothing in the fridge but a built-in water dispenser, and I found glasses in the cupboard, so I filled a cup for me and one for Melinoë just like I lived in the fucking place. I took a long sip and only then realized how parched and hungry I was. Maybe he’d order a pizza.

  Asking might be pushing my luck—especially when I had other negotiations to engage in.

  Melinoë sat on a barstool at the kitchen island and drank while I returned to the living room and dropped to sit casually on the white plush couch across from the fireplace. Right in the center seat of the sofa, leaning back and crossing my legs, spine straight and chin lifted.

  Fake it ’til you make it. “What’s your payment going to entail?”

  It was a minute before he spoke, and still didn’t look back at me. “You will kill someone.”

  “I’m not an assassin.”

  A smile flickered across his thin lips. “No, because I am not paying you.”

  I fought not to fidget. “I’m not going to just murder someone for you.”

  At that, he turned slowly to face me, long sinewy arms crossed and leather bracers creaking. “Is that not what you do?”

  “What I do is my business. Why do you want me, of all people, to kill this someone for you?”

  “Maybe it’s not want—it’s need.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Here’s the thing, Ash—when you retrieved us, we were searching for my brother. He’s missing and we have reason to believe he’s in some deep shit. Your friend back in the woods—”

  “Not my friend,” he corrected, and the air shivered aro
und him, little wrinkles in the fabric of space—if I didn’t miss my guess, that was anger.

  I filed that tidbit away for future use. “He claimed Dev wasn’t captured and I’m inclined to believe him, but his stuff was there. Dev takes priority.”

  “What if I search for him in your absence?”

  My gut went cold with the thought. “You will stay the hell away from my family.”

  He flashed a feral smile of sharp shark teeth. “I said search. That is all. For expediency’s sake.”

  “I go kill someone for you and you find my brother?”

  “If he can be reached, I will disclose all I learn.”

  “You could just say you looked when you haven’t,” Melinoë spoke up from her barstool to the left.

  That smile of his widened, showing more of his razor teeth. “She speaks.”

  “I-I just mean, we would have no way of knowing.”

  “Little demon child, you should have gathered by now I would like the witch in my debt. Of course I would move heaven and earth to find Devdan O’Connor.”

  I did not find that remotely reassuring. In fact, I thought I might throw up at the thought of owing him more than I already did.

  This was why I swore I’d never use that mark. If I cut that inch of skin to complete the tattoo, he’d find some way of owning me. I’d always known that, tempting myself with it as only a truly fucked up self-destructive person can.

  I kept my focus on Ashur. “Who do you want killed?”

  “A man.”

  “I’m listening. Where?”

  He wavered on that. “You’ll need to travel by dimensional tear.”

  “So not human.”

  “Humanish. Hiding in a domain I cannot step foot in. It is a small, deserted dimension. He should be easy to find. There may be trials associated with obtaining an audience with him, of course.”

  “Of course,” I replied dryly.

  “Your demon friend is coming?”

  I did glance at Melinoë at that point—she had a better idea of what we were getting into and should be offered a way out.

  Instead she met my eyes and gave a single nod.

  “Excellent,” Ashur said. “You will fare far better with help. You can take very little but I will ensure you have assistance.”

  “Why do you want this man killed?”

  “That is my business,” he replied simply.

  There had to be a catch. One I wouldn’t like. But if I refused? I couldn’t say what he’d do, but my luck with this creature was probably running out.

  But I could go and find out from the target directly why Ashur wanted him dead. Figure it out from there. Plus there was the added bonus of not having the swarm after us if we were off Devdan’s tail.

  “When do we leave?”

  Twenty-One

  It (Previously) Followed

  I’m not a fan of crossing dimensions. I don’t think anyone is, but I puked nearly every time. Teleporting was one thing—and I had to admit, Ashur was far better at minimizing the aftereffects than my father or Dev were—but dimensional tears are a whole other thing.

  So my stomach was twisted up at the thought and I was suddenly grateful I hadn’t had anything to eat, hunger swiftly fleeing me. Ashur refused to let me know where the apartment we’d been in was—no walking out the front door like normal folks, he whisked us away in a heartbeat.

  We ended up in total darkness.

  Melinoë and I clutched one another’s arms and held still while we stood in complete blackness. It was different from the dark of the forest—the air was stale and musty, and when I shuffled my feet a little, it felt like solid ground indoors. The movement offered enough of an echo that we must’ve been a vast room.

  I hoped like hell he hadn’t sent us back to the Brethren in some kind of fucked-up joke.

  My head was throbbing with being in his presence this long, my magic quivering across my skin in a futile attempt to soothe. “Ashur?” My voice held more of a command than I felt.

  “A moment, little witch.”

  A few seconds later, light flared in the space.

  It was a vast chamber somewhere underground, round with a high domed ceiling supported by columns. There were old torches now lit, both circling the outer edges of the room and on the nearby columns.

  There had been damage at some point, one pillar cracked and stone crumbled on the ground. In fact, something had gone down here once upon a time—blood stained black deep in the grout of the intricate tile floor.

  Plus there was a dusty skeletal hand just lying a few feet away.

  Fear prickled my skin though I couldn’t say why.

  “How will we know who we’re looking for?” I asked at last, because Ashur had been surprisingly mum on that topic.

  “He is the only human being in this dimension,” he replied. “Not difficult to find. It’s a...pocket universe, of a sort. I cannot open a doorway there myself, and it is the antithesis of my kind—I cannot step foot there, even the air would kill me.”

  We should bottle that up. Honestly, though, I wasn’t sure I believed him—he would not admit a weakness so easily to a human. Unless, of course, he thought me too small a threat to be worth the concern, though given his lengthy interest in me, I wondered. And how fucked up was this little “pocket universe” if it was even more foreign to him than the earthly realm?

  “But it won’t kill us?” Melinoë said. “Humans are fine? Or...mostly human?”

  “Yes. The dimension shares many of the same properties as this one, however it looks...different.” He shifted his attention back to me, his wings quivering restlessly. “More malleable. This will not be easy. He has survived this long because he has magic at his disposal.”

  “Wait—you’re sending me after another witch?”

  A nod.

  Fuck, I should’ve told my dad. Of course he would’ve then gotten into some kind of battle with Ashur and most certainly lost.

  “You’ll need to gain his trust,” Ashur continued. “Or he will kill you outright. If he suspects deception, it will...stagnate your progress.”

  Great, that sounded promising.

  “Are you sufficiently prepared?”

  “Fuck no.”

  He gave me a pained look.

  “We might be operating with entirely different contexts here, Ashur. You say it’s a ‘pocket’ universe and he won’t be hard to find—are we talking miles I have to cover? The size of a city? A province?”

  He considered this, his expression critical as he regarded me. Probably like he was attempting to explain something complex to cockroach if the narrowing of his eerie eyes was any indication of his thoughts. “A small city, perhaps. I can feel the size and shape of it, but it fluctuates. I suspect he’ll sense you and be curious so you should not need to search for long. What else can I tell you to assist with your preparation, little witch?”

  “Can we eat anything over there? Is there a risk of dying of dehydration?”

  His feather-fine hair fluttered around his temples as he shook his head. “Your bodies will...process differently. Magic sustains it. Instead of food for calories, you will pull from the energy there. This is how your target is still living despite the isolation.”

  I chewed on this, trying to wrap my brain around it and come up with another clever question to cover our asses, but my stomach twisted and grew more and more unsettled the longer I thought about it.

  “I would not send you to your death, Elis O’Connor.” The tone of Ashur’s voice was firm and deep, shuddering the air with more force than he probably intended to use. “You alone are capable of this task, and you can complete it and return safely.”

  “And if I wasn’t capable?”

  A loose shrug so casual he almost looked human. “I would wait until you were ready. I am patient.”

  I averted my gaze from the chilly inhuman stare of his and looked at Melinoë. “Any questions?”

  She shook her head.

  “Ye
ah, I guess we’re good. So...” I gestured vaguely at the space in front of us. “Do your thing.”

  “There is one issue with that.”

  Of course there fucking was. I didn’t even dignify it with a question, just waited.

  “It takes blood magic to open the doorway—and for that, I need you to make a...donation.”

  It was never ending with this motherfucker.

  I didn’t know, or do, blood magic. Wasn’t my forte. Wasn’t Dev’s either, and Dad...well, Dad had a lot of years to study a lot of things, and he dabbled in a bit of everything. But blood magic was the precursor to sacrifice, and that was a path he generally did not encourage.

  “I cannot perform your witch magic exactly,” he continued. “Which is why we are in this space. Your blood should be sufficient to open the doorway to enter, and again to exit.”

  At least he was requesting and not just bleeding me dry himself. “Fine. Where?”

  “You can’t feel the dimensional tear?”

  “Oh my goddess why are you even here if I have to do everything myself?”

  He gave me a predatory grin I did not like one bit.

  I threw on as much bravery as possible and stalked past him, hands outstretched to feel with my magic around the space, sensing any tears, anything that shouldn’t be there—any weakness in the atmosphere to be pushed.

  A vibration of energy thrummed against my left fingertips suddenly.

  I paused my walking and pressed again, gently, moving my right hand over to feel the space as well. A thin rope of energy ran in an oblong circle in the air—that had to be the doorway.

  I dropped my hands again and stared at the empty air as if that would let me see it. “Reassure me again, Ashur, that you are not sending me to my death for some game I’ve yet to figure out.”

  “Would my reassurances do you any good, little witch?”

  I sighed. “Nope. Got a knife?”

  A thin blade appeared over my shoulder.

  It was more of a stiletto than dagger, its needle-tip razor sharp. I gingerly accepted the obsidian-black blade and pushed my sleeve up...and hesitated.

  I could back out. Maybe. I would probably pay for it, though, and while I might struggle sometimes to come up with a list of things to live for, I knew I couldn’t leave my dad like that. Knew that I would spite this angel motherfucker at my back and survive as long as I could.