by J. L. Myers
I wanted to help. Really I did. And I wanted to stop that flow of tempting crimson. I pulled my gloves back on, but I still couldn’t do it. The temptation to turn Troy into an evening meal while forgetting our plans to save Ty was something I couldn’t risk. “Troy, I…”
Dorian appeared right beside me and dropped his backpack with a clatter. “Stand still,” he hissed at Troy. His silvery gaze fell to the gurgling blood leaking from Troy’s ribs. Then his hand rose, shaking with strain. The torrent slowed, the leaking turning off like a tap. Then it receded, climbing back up Troy’s side and disappearing into the bullet hole. “Now,” he said, glancing at me. “Take out the bullet.” As I went to argue he pinned me with a firm stare. “No, I can’t do both. And it’s silver since they’re armed for the damned.”
Struck by his harsh tone, my gloved hand shot out, fingers plunging in deep. Inside the squishy wetness, I found the solid cylindrical bullet. Pinched the sides, and pulled. A muted grunt escaped Troy as I fell back on my butt.
The retracting hold Dorian had on Troy’s blood released and a fresh stream spilled out. “About time,” Troy snapped.
I scrambled back, hitting the opposing wall, fixated as the leaking blood slowed and the wound began to heal.
“We don’t have time for this.” Dorian grabbed the backpack and my hand and dragged me down the corridor.
Looking back I saw Troy taking after us while covering the wound by re-buttoning his suit. A twist to the left then another to the right had us as close to the security control room as we could get without being seen. It was a square room bordered by four walls of clear glass. It was also at the epicenter of the corridor we stood in as well as three other corridors that met in the middle.
The next phase of our plan was to restrain the guard, long enough for Dorian to compel him to believe we were here to collect the prisoner for execution. Troy appearing as Caius would make the task easier.
Footsteps echoed from one of the forking corridors. Then a guard appeared, about to enter the glass room when he stalled. His chin lifted and he drew in a testing breath through his nose.
Something nudged me in the ribs. I turned to see Dorian pointing to the bloodstains still wet across Troy’s suit. I could smell it too, had been able to smell the provoking scent since the wound was inflicted. Troy may have been marked to have his scent blocked. But that clearly didn’t cover spilled blood. Now this small overlook was about to cost us our cover.
The guard peered up the dark corridor in our direction. One hand found the gun at his belt, and the other located his radio. He stepped forward, lifting the radio to his mouth…
Troy whipped past so fast I couldn’t track him. A split second later he’d collided with the guy to drive him back against the glass wall. A crack shattered one whole glass panel, the shards falling like red diamonds.
Dorian and I ran forward, but it was too late. Troy battered his fists into the guard’s face, turning it black and blue. The guy slumped into unconsciousness, falling slack over the glittering shards of shattered glass across the control boards.
When my hand found Troy’s shoulder he staggered back, releasing his fist from the guy’s shirt. “What the hell did you do?”
Still red with the flush of attack and the lighting of red bulbs, Troy glared at me with gold-rippling eyes. “What I had to.”
On his other side Dorian fished into his black backpack, creating a clatter of musical noise. Then he reared and handed an armful of iron circlets to Troy. “Hurry up and get these on him.”
I had noticed the backpack outside, but had assumed it was filled with weapons and things we could use. Not these… “What are you doing?”
Troy began unclipping the circlets and fastening them around the unconscious guard’s wrists and ankles. “Restraining him.”
“I suppose there are chains in that bag too, then?” I directed my accusing glare from the bag and up to Dorian.
His face cracked. It almost looked like he was about to laugh, but then though better of it. Clearing his throat he said, “The bands will do enough. They’re inscribed. See…” He pointed to the last circlet as Troy clipped it around the guard’s neck. Each band was engraved with symbols, some repeating and others individual.
“What will they do?”
Troy stepped back and dusted off his hands. “The ones on his wrists and ankles will keep him immobile. The one around his neck will stop him from breathing a single word.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Had they both conspired to have this happen? Had this been the plan all along? I huffed and ran a hand over my face then glanced down at the lifeless guard. “Now how is he going to initiate the next security check that was…” My accusing glare lifted to Troy. “Oh I don’t know, supposed to be happening right now?”
Troy ignored my look and smiled with self-satisfaction. “Like this…”
A succession of cracks erupted with his resetting bones. His entire form melted, shrinking in size and stature. When the transformation was complete, what stood before me was not at all what I expected. Still covered in the suit, which had complimented his tall and broad stature, was a much smaller and more wiry figure. His face now perfectly matched the unconscious guard draped across the control board.
In his new skin, Troy reached out and unclipped the radio transmitter from the guard and pressed the intercom button. Then in a voice that matched the person we’d heard over the intercom earlier, he said, “Control room. Cameras up. Check one.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
After a torturous second that seemed to stretch on forever, static crackled over the line. Then the first of the checks rang through the speaker. With a dizzying sigh, I allowed myself to breathe. “That was too close.”
Troy smiled with cocky confidence. “But it worked.” He dragged the unconscious guard from the control board and propped him against the far wall.
In the meantime, Dorian had moved into the glass room. With a sweeping hand he brushed the glass shards from the many screens that surrounded the horseshoe-shaped desk. To my right were screens covering the council property’s perimeter. Right in front of me six screens overlooked various angles of the main hall. The space was packed. Every seat in the house was taken and not an inch of floor space was left visible. Font rows were occupied by the pristine dressed. They sported lavish gowns, expensive suits, and jewelry that sparkled under the chandelier’s candlelight. These attendees had to be extended family to the royals in power.
An elevated dais had been erected before the crowd. Each reigning royal occupied one of the seven wooden and velvet-swathed thrones. Caius took up the center position being the eldest. Uriel and Serafina flanked him, and Marcus being the youngest but not yet sworn in, was positioned at the last throne to the left. Before them was my double. The resemblance was flawless, a perfect mirror image.
“Damn,” Dorian said. “I can see how Ty was tricked.”
I flinched, a flash of her wearing my appearance beneath Ty invading my thoughts. “Don’t remind me.”
Kendrick stood to the side of the dais, having been commissioned by his mother to lead any rituals that were to take place. His relief at where we were was stained by urgency.
How long do we have? I sent out the silent words to my best friend.
His gaze shifted sideways to Caius. You’ve got fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before the ceremony concludes and the guards are sent to retrieve Ty.
Fifteen minutes… Thanks to Marcus we’d seen the blueprints. Though we still had to get down another level, and through one guarded and locked door to gain access to the lower prison cells. If that wasn’t already enough, once we found him, we still had to steal a key to unlock Ty’s cell. Then we had to break through his shackles and get the hell out. All this without raising any alarm to notify The Council straight above our heads of our actions. It was almost impossible. But it was our only hope.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” I said, determination edging my words. With the limited ti
me we would have to act fast and be ruthless. Compelling our way through the blocks was no longer an option. “When we reach the block I need you both to incapacitate the guard. Fast.”
Dorian, who had been kneeling before me, rose. In his hand was a pile of folded black material. “There’s another way.”
In seconds, Dorian and I stripped off our own clothes and yanked on the spare guard uniforms. The uniforms matched the guards’ outfits outside and had belts with loops for holding stakes, a loop to sheath a sword or thick knife, plus holsters at each hip to carry a gun. A few strapped holsters to hold daggers from Dorian’s backpack were concealed at our shins. My whip clipped onto a loop at the small of my back.
With Dorian and I armed and dressed the part, and Troy the spitting image of Caius, we set off. A flight of stairs down and a turn to the left led us to our block. One guard was seated by a solid iron door. Above him was a blinking surveillance camera that we’d managed to turn off at the switchboard.
As we approached, the guard stood to attention then frowned and glanced at his watch. “Is it time already?”
Troy with Caius’s set expression tipped his head. “It is.”
The guard stepped aside, resuming his seat and burying his nose back into the pages of a magazine. Behind where he’d been standing was a touchpad attached to the wall. It was black with a blue-lit screen, and two solid red lights set into the black metal covering.
Troy threw a quick sidelong look my way then stepped forward. His thumb planted over the screen. A chime sounded and the first red light flashed green. A buzzing followed as a slender needle emerged from a tiny hole in the bottom of the device. The words Blood Check flashed up on the screen.
Troy’s head whipped around to me, his scowl venomous and accusing. But I didn’t know about this anymore than he did. We’d only known about the thumbprint. Nothing else. Especially not blood. And whose blood did the device need? Did it have to be Caius’s? A royal’s? A guard’s?
The guard looked up from his magazine when the screen beeped, like it was reminding us that the final step had not yet been completed. His hand hovered over the radio at his waist and his mouth opened.
Before he could speak, Dorian leapt between the guard and Troy, sending a loaded elbow at the guard’s face. The impact cracked bone and the guard cried out. But he didn’t go down.
Instead he kicked out, connecting with my hip. The booted kick hit with a sting, feeling like my flesh had been torn. I ignored the raw tearing as his hand closed over his gun, removing it from the holster.
Before the guard could cock or aim, Dorian swiped the loaded metal and pumped a single shot into the guard’s abdomen. Another shot like a spear into his forearm.
“Dorian, no!” I went to stop him. “Don’t kill him!”
Troy, wearing Caius’s meat suit, locked my arms behind my back. “He’s not.”
Another two shots rang out, one each into the guard’s thighs. The guard slumped over with an agonized scream, falling back onto the seat, unconscious.
In a blur, Dorian strung out a long chain and coiled it around the guard until he was tied down to the metal chair. A huge padlock with engraved symbols connected the two opposing ends of the chain. These chains couldn’t easily be broken, and anyone restricted by them would be powerless to escape.
Troy convulsed with an all-over body quake, returning to his own form. He kicked the out-cold guard’s leg. “Now what?”
Dorian eyed the vicious needle pointing out of the print scanner. “If you become Caius again, will your blood work?”
“No. The imprint changes how I look and sound. My insides, blood and DNA make-up, or whatever you want to call it, remains the same. My blood won’t work.”
“What if I zap it?” I said out loud.
Amidst Dorian and Troy’s vote of agreement, Kendrick’s voice rang through my ears. No! It’ll be alarm wired. Any power break could set it off. It’s probably on a timer, too.
Dammit! “Scratch that,” I said, pulling at my braid in frustration. “Kendrick says it’ll set off the alarm.”
Then something a council member had exclaimed when Mom announced my Oracle visions rang through my ears. That’s impossible. She’s not even a Pure Blood.
Suspect excitement rushed through my veins. I stared at my own hands. The answer hand been right in front of me this whole time, way before my power was revealed. Right back when I’d realized that the rarest ability bestowed onto Pure Bloods, coursed through every fiber of my being. It was part of me. Part of my blood. Part of who I really was. If damned blood coursed through my veins and had altered my DNA, then so did Pure Blood.
I removed one glove and extended my index finger as Kendrick screamed internally for me to stop. But this was our only chance. Whether I was right or wrong would all be set in place right after…
The needle pierced my finger with a sharp sting. A crimson drop fell as the needle recessed back into the touch pad. A heart-stopping second later the device beeped and the second red light flashed green. The distinct sound of deadlock bars slid free.
It had worked. More than that, it had answered the question I had sought out since fleeing the Armaya and Caius. Now without any resignation I knew the truth. I knew exactly what I was. A manufactured Pure Blood.
Beyond the once-bolted, three-inch solid steel door, we found a corridor lined with cells. Ty’s cell was the last on the left. With my glove back on, I channeled the sparks to my fingers and rushed ahead as two chained, dirty arms reached through the bars. Ty took hold of me, wrapping his arms around my waist as mine reached through the bars to encase him.
“You made it,” he said, voice gruff and tinged by surprise.
“Told you we would.” I fought back the tears at having done it, having broken through every obstacle. Though being able to physically touch Ty in a way that I hadn’t been able to since his imprisonment, had a few wet drops sliding free.
Troy clearing his throat had Ty’s arms receding back into the cell. “Enough with the reunion. If I die in this hole, I’m taking you all down with me.”
Dorian stood at the cell’s barred door, slotting the large iron key we’d commandeered from the last guard into the thick lock. “I’d argue, but he’s right. Let’s blow this shit hole before it’s too late.” A loud clank announced the release and the door swung open with a slight push.
I weaved past Dorian and threw myself into Ty’s arms. Though his arms flung around me, he staggered and groaned. I jerked away, pain striking my chest at the unaltered sight of him. Still shackled and through the shredded fabric of what had been his shirt and pants, I could see everything. Elongated welts covered his skin. Each was deep and wide and seeped blood. Bruises of every color stained his once tan flesh. His lip was split too. It was as swollen as his right eye that was completely closed and oozing yellowish muck. Without being able to heal, each injury must have been killing him. And that wasn’t all. His left arm dangled at an entirely awkward angle, the bone broken and jutting through his forearm’s flesh.
My stomach dropped. I’d just rushed into his arms, and he had hugged me back. Doing so must have been pure agony.
With a gentle hand I led Ty back, easing him down onto the rotten cot. Then I reached for the vial. My hand slid into the pocket of my pants, feeling openness as my fingers dipped through a hole in the bottom. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong,” Troy demanded, hovering like the hulk over my shoulder.
I turned to expose the damage of my stolen guard’s pants. The pocket was burnt through and ragged. Now I knew what that stinging pain had been. My skin below the material was mottled and edged white, with darker, uneven patches where fleshy holes had already healed. “When the guard kicked me, it broke the acid vial.”
“What’s…the acid for?” Ty asked in a weary voice. Even sitting his body swayed, bordering on unconsciousness.
“To break your chains.” Dorian moved to my other side. He picked up Ty’s non-broken arm and began pulling at t
he shackle.
As he tugged and grunted, my thoughts raced. Whispers that we’d failed, that we’d never get out of this alive, struck me. But I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t. If we failed, I’d at least die trying.
“That won’t work,” Troy said. He stripped the backpack from Dorian’s back and fished through it. His face was set with hard lines and desperation. The expression was unlike any I had ever seen in him before, and it set one thing in black and white. Freeing Ty meant as much to him as it did to either of us.
An idea hit me like a slap to the face. Kendrick, will my blood give him some strength even with the restraints intact?
What? Oh. I’m not sure, he answered, sounding distracted. It’s possible. But that still won’t free…
Kendrick’s response stopped short as my idea registered in his mind. I knelt beside Ty, rolled one glove down to my wrist, and bit down, creating a deep gouge in the flesh. Crimson pooled at the punctures.
Troy’s head whipped up from his bag tampering. With a disgusted snarl he shot forward, pinning me against the far wall. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Troy, please,” I pleaded, coughing at the shock of being slammed against rough stone. “You have to let me go. We don’t have time for this.”
“Get your hands off her!” Dorian shot up behind Troy, fangs out and arms around the guy’s neck.
“Not on your life.” Troy threw a back swing while keeping his other arm pinned across my neck. The hit met Dorian’s chest, sending him flying back into the bars. He raised a closed fist to my face, disgust painting his expression black. “Infect him with your blood?”
Small sparks did nothing to ease the pressure of his arm against my throat. “It’s the only way to get us out of here alive,” I croaked.
Troy pushed harder, his canines like threatening spears poking from his mouth. “By turning him?”
“No.” A raspy voice sounded from the cot. Ty coughed, spluttering on what sounded like blood. With a groan he pushed himself up into a slumped sitting position. “That’s not what Amelia’s trying to do. Let. Her. Go.”
