Riley stared at her, wary. “You are taking this remarkably well.”
“I want to freak out, but I’m too tired. I’ll do it later. I just want to go home and make a pie or something.” She snatched up her enormous purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Don’t disappear again, okay?”
Dumbfounded, Riley just nodded, then watched as Daphne shuffled out of Final Judgment.
As confessions went, Riley couldn’t deny that Daphne had taken it really well, way better than Riley had when she’d found out about the supernatural world. But truth be told, she was just glad Daphne didn’t hate her, or worse, think she was lying. It felt good having a friend still, a normal, non-immortal friend, because, as much as she loved the boys, it wasn’t the same.
Brain hurting and emotionally in pain, not to mention physically incapable of doing anything but drag her pain ridden body towards the back, Riley moved into the kitchen, kneading the back of her eyelids with her knuckles. She got all the way into the dimly lit room with the full intent of shuffling into a hot shower before curling up in bed with Octavian. The latter was most of her motivation. She exhaled. Her hand worked the stiff, aching muscles on her injured shoulder, the one she’d bruised all over again by tumbling off the table. This was so not how she wanted to live her life, in constant pain. She really hoped Kyaerin was right about it fading with time.
Lost in the wallows of her own personal misery, Riley narrowly missed the slumped figure in the kitchen until it shifted in the corner of her eye. Mind still frozen in the horror that had transpired only hours ago, Riley opened her mouth to scream. It was poised on the tip of her tongue only to wheeze out in a squeak when she recognized the face.
“Reggie?” She clutched her chest. “Jesus, you scared me. What are you doing there in the dark?”
He stood slumped in the corner between two counters, his head down, face drawn in a hard line of pain. “I screwed up.”
Concerned, Riley went to him. “You can still apologize. Daphne will—”
He shook his head. “It’s better if she stays away.”
Riley frowned. “Why? Because she didn’t tell you her age? It’s not such a big deal.”
With a low, exasperated growl deep in his throat, Reggie raised a hand and scrubbed at his face. He rubbed so hard, Riley expected skin to begin peeling. “She’s my mate, Riley.”
He could have smacked her across the face with a trout and stunned her less. “Daphne? My Daphne? What?”
He straightened and turned to fully face her. His eyes were a little too clear, a little too focused. “I knew the first moment she walked into the movie theater. It’s how I knew you were there. I turned and… there she was. It’s just like Octavian said it would be, a hard, fast blow in the gut. I couldn’t believe it. It’s just my luck that my mate would be human.”
Riley tried not to take offense. “I’m human.”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out.” He shook his head. “I’m not doing that to her. I don’t know how Octavian does it.”
“He didn’t have a choice,” she reminded him. “It happened by accident, but he tried his damnedest to stay away from me before that and even after.”
Reggie scooped his hair back off his brow. “You guys are a bloody nightmare.”
“Hey!”
He offered her a lopsided grin. “Sorry, but do you have any idea how much it hurts to be that close to the person you belong with and not being able to touch them?”
Riley arched an eyebrow. “Story of my life pal.”
He had the decency to blanch. “Right, sorry.”
She let it go. “Does Daphne know?”
He shook his head. “She probably feels the pull, but it’s not the same. What she feels is nothing compared to how we feel when one of you is around. It’s like swallowing red hot embers or getting speared by a branding iron and the only way to make it stop is to be with you, and we can’t. The pain wasn’t so bad when I was around her, just being with her and being near her was enough, but it’s getting harder to let her walk away each time. She’s safer staying away from me. I’m not imprinting on a sixteen year old, especially not a human. I won’t do that to her.”
Chapter 39
“Riley?”
In the process of turning down the sheets, Riley glanced up in the direction of the bathroom where Octavian stood, a rugged silhouette in the doorway. He was bare chested, his sweats slung low as he brushed his teeth.
“Yes?”
He turned into the bathroom, spit and rinsed his mouth. When he returned, he was drying his hands on a hand towel. “What’s on your mind, Green-eyes? You’ve been quiet these last few nights.”
Riley shook her head, going back to fluffing her pillow. “Nothing.”
He tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter, snapped the lights off and padded towards her. “Are you still thinking about what happened with the strigoi? You know Dad is in contact with the Masters. He’ll find which coven the guy was from and we’ll deal with it.”
It had been bothering her, a lot. Finding the guy or not didn’t excuse the fact that someone out there was putting hits on her head.
“What if it was Baron?” she asked, not for the first time. She turned and perched on the mattress. “It has to be him. No one else wants me dead.”
“Strigoi don’t work for or with demons.” He moved towards the dresser and removed a top from the drawer. The top was like hers, long sleeved, but gray whereas hers was pink with little angels floating around a rainbow in front. He slipped it on, tugged it down over the waistband of his sweats. “They can’t work with angels either. They are neutral. It would break the treaty.”
Riley sighed. “I just don’t understand why—”
He grabbed a pair of socks out of the top drawer and padded back to her. “Maybe you heard wrong.”
She’d considered that possibility was well, but she was so sure. Granted, she was had a few other pressing matters on her mind, like the giant hand cutting off her circulation, but that couldn’t be something she could mistake, was it?
“Maybe,” she murmured.
He sat next to her on the bed. Their shoulders bumped as the bed dipped and she slid into him. She stayed there as he slipped on his socks.
“How are you going to kill him?” she asked once he was finished and had both feet on the ground. “The guy took you, Reggie and Gideon out.”
Octavian nodded. “By law, the strigoi are forbidden to attack Casters. What this guy did could very well break all accords if not handled carefully. His Master will have to command him to death.”
“Will his Master do that?”
He shrugged. “He’ll have to or risk starting a war. His servant attacked the Gatekeepers — Mom and Dad — that alone is ground for execution. Never mind that he attacked a Caster.” He rested a hand on her lower spine. “We will make him talk before he’s terminated.”
Riley nodded, leaning into his side. “Octavian?” She looped her arm through his, careful not to let the bare skin of his hands touch hers as she lightly skimmed her fingers along his thigh. “Remember when—”
A soft knock interrupted her second failed attempt at bringing up the fact that she loved him.
He smiled at her apologetically before summing the person responsible in.
Kyaerin poked her head in through the small opening she made in the door and peered across the room at them with a great deal of hesitation considering, a) they’d told her to come in and, b) they couldn’t touch each other.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said smiling at them sheepishly. “Octavian, could you quickly run the garbage out? I asked Gideon to do it hours ago, but… he’s gone and vanished. Magnus and Reggie are out on a hunt and your father is looking over applications.”
Octavian exhaled loudly. “Countless centuries old and still forced to take out the trash.” He rose off the bed. He turned his head to grin at Riley. “I’ll be right back and we can finish talking.”
R
iley nodded, watching him grab up his boots and walk out with a slight slump to her shoulders.
Kyaerin bid her goodnight as she shut the door, taking Octavian with her. Riley flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling.
“I’m going to tell him,” she said out loud. “As soon as he comes back.”
But he didn’t. It took so long that Riley wondered if he was walking to the landfill to toss the garbage. She was beginning to fall asleep where she lay and it was the cold of the room that jolted her awake. Grimacing and rubbing her arms, she sat up, looking around the room, wondering if Octavian had returned and she hadn’t noticed. Nope. No such luck. The room was dark and empty.
Puzzled, Riley stuffed her bare feet into her runners and hurried from the room. The chill continued as she moved quickly through the corridors, becoming thicker like every window in the place had been left open. She hugged herself as she jogged down the steps and turned down the corridor into the kitchen.
The door leading into the storage room was wide open, the room itself dark. Riley frowned as she craned her neck to see deeper into the deathtrap.
“Octavian?” she called.
No response.
Just beyond the tower of boxes, she could just make out the pale glow spilling in from the backdoor. It was open, letting the night creep inside along with the light from the light above the door. Her frown deepened as she crossed through the room and peeked into the clearing.
It opened into the woods, an oval clearing surrounded by looming threes. Two metal canisters sat stooped beneath a sickly yellow light from the lamp casting a dull circling in the dark. Wisps of night air spilled through the opening, smelling of pine, snow and rot from the garbage. It was cold and she wished she’d though to grab a wrap.
“Octavian?” she called again, taking one step out the door.
There were footprints in the snow, a whole mangled flock of them. Fresh snow hadn’t fallen in days so there was no telling if Octavian had even come outside.
She shivered, gripping herself tighter. Her breath came out in a soft puff of white that blurred her vision for a moment.
“Octavian, where are you?”
A rustle had her turning to the left. She squinted through the dark just beyond the halo of light. She was beginning to think she should head back inside when something came flying into the clearing and landing with a deafening crack mere feet from where she stood.
Riley screamed. The dark figure lurched to its feet just as another shot through the light and slammed into him with a strength that sounded like gunshot ringing through the night. She felt the sharp slap of air as the two solid forces collided. The sickening crack of meat on meat exploded through the night. They tumbled and rolled out of the halo of light, disappearing from sight. Grunts and groans cut through the night. Gravel crunched and shattered beneath whatever was going on that Riley couldn’t see, but the distinct sound was impossible not to recognize. Riley stood frozen, torn between running and screaming some more.
There was a fight going on only a few feet away from her and she was powerless to do a damn thing about it. So she stood there like an idiot with her hands over her mouth and her heart in her throat. Then, just when her mind was all made up to run, the two figures rolled into the light and were illuminated. She saw Octavian, a beautiful angel of darkness, face a mask of fury, dragging the second figure beneath him, locking them into place between him and the ground. The second figure was putting up a world of fight. He bucked, arching his back and kicking with his legs. Octavian flipped over him, doing a summersault and leaping to his feet. The blade he kept in his boot was in his hand, an arch of gleaming silver in the dark. The light gleaned off the blade as he raised it over his head. Her cry of panic wedged in her throat when the second figure leapt to his feet and she saw his face.
It was the strigoi that had attacked them only days earlier. He was back and as lethal as before. He slammed his entire body into Octavian’s in a tackle. They flew backwards and crashed into the garbage bins. The metallic bong resounded through the trees. Octavian’s blade cluttered from his grasp and spun across the snow like a silver top. The creature took advantage of Octavian’s momentary weakness and wrestled him to his knees, wrapping an arm around his throat in a chokehold.
“No!” Her cry of panic exploded even before she could wrap her head around the unexpected turn of events.
Silver eyes shot open, fixing on her and surging with horror. “Riley!” Her name choked on his lips. “Run!”
Her flight and fight reflex spurred into action and she was moving. Not running away, but darting forward. Her fingers closed around the hilt of the fallen blade. Then it was in her hands, cold and dangerous.
“Let him go!” she warned, clasping the knife tight despite the sweat on her palms.
“No!” Octavian’s voice was ragged and strained.
She ignored him, keeping the blade turned on the other man. “This is that angelic weapon you were talking about, right? Well, I have one now and I will kill you if you don’t let him go.”
Sure, she didn’t know how to fight and she didn’t look very intimidating, but it was a real kick in the crotch when the other person laughs rather than cowers in fear like they were supposed to.
“Feisty little morsel,” he hissed into Octavian’s ear. “I will enjoy bathing in her blood.”
Ew! Riley grimaced with disgust.
Unlike her, Octavian’s features were more enraged than disgusted. “You won’t touch her!”
The other man cackled. “You are in no position to threaten me, boy. I’ve already killed you once, proving you are no match for me.”
As though to prove it once more, he tightened his grip on Octavian’s throat. Octavian’s eyes bulged. His fingers tore at the forearm squished into his windpipe. Gasps puffed out in clouds around his face as he fought to breath.
“Hey!” Riley took several steps forward. “Can we focus on me, please? I’m the one with the knife here.”
The creature raised his beautiful face, a cold, hard leer on his face. “So you are.”
She never saw it coming. One minute, he had Octavian on the ground, on his knees, restrained. The next— she must have blinked — there was a slam of air, the knife was gone from her hand and she was shoved back. But rather than fall, she struck something solid that quickly moved to restrain her. When the whirlwind of confusion settled, she realized her predicament a bit too late.
She stood with her back to the monster and held like a fly to his chest with a familiar hand shackled around her windpipe.
“Shhh,” he taunted into her ear when she gasped. “Fighting only excites me further.”
Riley couldn’t think let alone move, even if she wanted. This was so beyond her level of comprehension.
“You are afraid,” he crooned into the side of her face with breath that smelled of dead things. “Smart.”
“Let her go, strigoi.” Octavian was on his feet now, body a hard slab of fury.
“I can’t do that,” the creature replied evenly. “I’ve been given orders for this one and you know how important following orders are.”
Octavian’s hands flexed at his sides. “Orders by whom? Give me his name.”
There was a sick sort of joy in his voice when he responded, “Why, by the only being that matters.”
Pain unlike anything on earth erupted as her head was yanked to the side by violent hands. Fire tore through her flesh, a guzzling mess of battery acid leaking through her veins. The world spiraled as she was cast in a pit of black agony. Blood, her blood, bubbled up and fountained down the front of her shirt, soaking the material and dripping from the hem onto the mangled snow at her feet. For a moment, she couldn’t imagine why she was bleeding only that it was spilling all around her with no end in sight. She wanted to search for Octavian, to find him and ask him what was happening, but her body was no longer her own. Everything from her brain down had become paralyzed, as immobile as a fly in a spider’s web. H
er bones were melting inside her, becoming thick blobs of goo no longer supporting her.
What was happening?
Riley blinked and when she opened her eyes, she found herself on her back, peering up at a night sky choked by a tangled mess of branches and Octavian’s ashen face. Snow melted into her clothes, seeping into her prone body and chilling her bones. She should have been freezing, but she felt oddly numb.
“Baby?” Octavian’s voice wavered as he scooped her up off the ground into his arms.
“I’m so cold, Octavian,” she croaked.
“It’s okay.” He pushed back her hair from her face, his fingers colder than the snow beneath her. “You’re okay.”
Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) Page 40
