Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment)

by Airicka Phoenix

  She didn’t feel okay. The hand she lifted to touch her neck grazed twin puncture wounds and came away stained with blood. Her blood.

  “I… I think he bit me,” she whimpered. Her eyes lifted to his face, wide with fear and uncertainty. “Am I dying?”

  “No!” His growl was fierce, filled with anger and panic and so much fear that it was blinding. “No, I won’t let you. Just hold on, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

  The numb sensation began to abide, leaving her cold and weak. “But I’m so cold.”

  Heart wrenching pain closed over his face as he pressed her deeper into his arms. “Why didn’t you run? I told you to run!”

  Cruel fingers of darkness began creeping over her vision, blurring his features. “I’m sorry.” She sucked in a breath. It rattled in her chest like marbles in her chest. “But I didn’t… I couldn’t let him… I love you, Octavian.”

  Tears as bright as stars glistened in his eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t say it like you’re saying goodbye. Damn it, Riley! Don’t do this. Hang on, okay?” She felt a jostle as he hoisted her into his chest and began running. “I’m not letting you die.” She felt the rush of warmth and knew they were inside. “Talk to me, Riley. Don’t fall asleep.”

  “Trying.” She gave him a forced smile. “Just so tired.”

  Her lashes slipped closed without her consent and didn’t open again.

  PART II

  Chapter 40

  “I love you, Octavian.”

  Her blood, warm and sticky, trickled from his fingers as he clutched her to him, gripping her tight as though, if he held on tight enough, she couldn’t find a way to slip away from him.

  “Don’t die.” His voice sounded hollow and tinny even to his own ears. “Baby, please…”

  But her body had already gone rigid. Her breathing no longer whispered against his neck and the noise her chest had been making, a low wheezing sound, had stopped and he knew, even before he drew her away from him, that her eyes would no longer be open.

  “Riley!” Cold, crippling panic snatched him from mid sleep and hurled him cruelly into reality. The sheets, damp with his sweat, roped around him, confining him to the mattress.

  He tore them off, uncaring and swung his legs over the mattress. He pressed his clammy face into his hands and shuddered.

  How long had it been? How long since he’d held her in his arms? How long since he’d looked into her green eyes and thought of his home back in Ireland? Too long, that’s how long. Too fucking long.

  The cool hardwood felt like heaven beneath his feet as he padded into the bathroom and shut himself in for a long, cold shower. By the time he was finished, the dream was but a memory just far enough away that he could resume the pretense of sanity. He donned clothes and left his room.

  Silence met him through the endless maze of corridors. Each one reminded him of all the times he’d walked them with Riley at his side. All the times her laugh had bounced off the walls. Venturing through them alone was a smack that he could scarcely bare.

  In the kitchen, he turned to the storage area. He pried the door open and slipped inside.

  The room smelled of rot and dust. They had a shipment of tomatoes that had been a bit riper than they should have been. Magnus, being in charge of stock shipment, had sent them back, but the damage had been done. The stench had embedded itself into everything. Octavian made a mental note to get Reggie to air the storage out.

  With a sigh, he lifted a plastic crate of lettuce, set it aside before reaching for a box of napkins. He kicked the box off the trap hatch concealed just out of sight in the corner. Light sparked a curve down the protection and binding runes burned into the wood. The iron latch felt unnaturally cold to the touch. He slipped a finger into the loop and yanked the hatch open. The hinge’s squeak echoed down the dusty set of stairs. Each step groaned beneath his weight as he descended. From memory, he reached up and to the left. His hand brushed the thin piece of string. He grabbed it and tugged.

  The opening was a barricade allowing no Demons in and no Demons out once they were on the other side. The thing had been meant as a safe hold for Demons that awaited transport from this realm to the other. At that moment it was empty of Demons.

  The light swung wildly, splashing sick light over grimy boxes. Its haphazard dance churned the basket of fries he’d forced himself to eat earlier, but he kept his attention fixed on the clear path to the back of the dank room. Light pooled across the concrete in a square doormat. A soft hum, a melody he was all too familiar with, spilled through the open doorway, drawing him closer. Just beneath the soothing lullaby, a low, rumbling growl broke the chilled silence. Octavian knew what to expect even before he passed over the threshold.

  The scene never changed, although a part of him always hoped that this time… this time would be different. It never was.

  The same gloomy walls leered back at him, made harsher by the single bulb dangling from the rafters. Its light spilled in pools over stubbornly scrubbed floors, a twin bed with fresh, clean sheets and the writhing figure strapped to it. His mother sat in a chair beside the bed, humming quietly as she wrung a damp cloth in the bowl on the nightstand. She folded it carefully and rested it on the figure’s brow. It whined, struggling against its binds.

  “Hush, mo ghrá,” his mother soothed, murmuring the word my love in her Gaelic tongue. “It’s all right.”

  His beautiful Riley hissed, exposing jagged fangs. The flesh beneath the rag hissed. Smoke coiled in wisps. Eyes that had once been the lush green of Ireland now rolled in pools of crimson.

  Octavian crossed the cramped space to stand at his mother’s shoulder. “Anything?” he asked.

  The creature snarled.

  His mother shook her head. “Not yet, but your father and brothers will find him.”

  “There are only five covens,” he practically growled. “How hard could it be to find a single strigoi?”

  His mother sighed. “Very when each coven could have hundreds, even thousands of—”

  He’d heard it all before, but he was no closer to accepting the fact that a single strigoi could just vanish off the face of the planet. He was out there somewhere and Octavian would find him. He would find him and kill him.

  “I’m going hunting,” he murmured, already turning towards the door.

  His mother was on her feet in a flash. “You know what your father said. You’re not to go after this thing.”

  “I can’t just sit here either!” he threw back at her. “My mate is turned into a monster and he expects me to just sit here and do nothing? Would he sit and do nothing if it were you?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Because you are too invested in this. You are too emotional. You are not prepared to face—”

  “How many times must I fail her, hmm? What sort of man… husband am I if I just sit here while she suffers? She is here because of me, because I couldn’t protect her. She gave her life—”

  “So you could live,” she cut in. “Riley loves you, Octavian. She wants you to live.”

  “Yeah, well, I refuse to live without her.” He turned his gaze to where the lithe figure twisted beneath roped sheets. “I hate seeing her down here. I hate seeing her chained up like some… animal! She doesn’t deserve this.”

  “I know, baby,” his mother murmured. “Do you think I like it?”

  He sighed. No, of course she didn’t. She spent as much time as he did down in that hole, watching over Riley, trying to sooth her.

  “He did this on purpose,” he said, still watching Riley. “He deliberately didn’t give her his blood. He wanted her to turn halfway so I would have to kill her.”

  “It won’t come to that,” his mother said sharply. “We will find him and we will make him finish the transformation.” She moved closer and lightly rested her hand on his arm. “Your father will find him. He’s sworn that he will bring you to get the blood yourself. All he asks is that you stay here until he does. Please, Octavian.
”

  When he gave her a curt nod of surrender, she patted his arm lightly and walked out, leaving him alone with his greatest guilt.

  His feet were silent as he crossed the room to the bed. Those red pits stared hungrily up at him. Lips he’d longed with every aching muscle to kiss were cracked and stained red from feedings. She eyed him, expression void of recognition. There was no longer laughter in her eyes or a smile on her mouth. Gone was his Riley.

  “I will fix this,” he told her.

  She growled deep in her throat. Maybe it was because she didn’t understand him or because she didn’t care, but her soul was gone, taking with it the pieces of her that made her human. It would remain that way until her creator was located and his blood was injected into her body, completing the transformation from monster to strigoi. But it had been two weeks and they were no closer to locating him.

  Octavian sunk lower in his seat, slumping forward to rest his elbows on his knees and drop his face into his hands. Beside him, Riley whined. The bed springs jingled as she thrashed against her binds.

  He raised his head and met her inhuman eyes. “I’m not giving up,” he told her. “I will find a way to bring you back.

  There was nothing more tedious or useless as poring over Demon Applications. In his opinion, no Demon should ever be allowed entry into the mortal world. It didn’t matter how little their crimes were, or how they swore to bind their powers or restrain themselves. Demons fed off humans. The whole situation was ludicrous. But the treaty between Heaven and Hell stated that they would consider all applications before allowing any creature entry into the place they swore to protect. Octavian couldn’t understand why. Most abided by the laws, returning after their fortnight on earth was over, but a majority of them thought they could just run and hide somewhere and never be found. He hated those the most, because then he had to go hunt them down and bring them back. There were more of those than there was of the ones that actually came back when they were supposed to.

  Rubbing the back of his neck where an ache had begun, Octavian straightened. He stretched his arms over his head and strained his back, hoping to ease the tension. This was so not how he had wanted to spend his night. He would have rather been below with Riley, but his mother had been hunched over those papers for nearly two days and she needed a break. But more than that, Octavian had to admit, he couldn’t be in the same room as Riley as much as he wanted to. Seeing her made him want to break his fist into something. It made him want to rip heaven and earth apart until he found the son of a bitch that did this to her. Staying alive was the only thing keeping him from plunging into the night to take on a beast he knew he could never bring down by himself. Dying would not bring Riley back. It would not save her. Patience, as much as it killed him, was the only way he would get his hands on the bastard.

  The kitchen door opened and his mother walked through. She offered him a comforting smile as she crossed over and took the seat across from him.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  She reached across the table and took his hand. “Resting.”

  Octavian sighed, sifting his free hand through his hair. “Has she fed?”

  His mother nodded. “Last one for the night, but I’ll have to get Reggie to stock up on a few more blood bags. We’re nearly out.”

  “I can—”

  She squeezed his hand. “I need you here.”

  He knew what she… what everyone in his family was doing. They were trying to keep him away from temptation. They knew the moment he stepped outside, there was a very high possibility that he would take off to go hunting for the monster that hurt Riley. Hell, even he knew it. It was more than just a possibility. It was a fact. There was no coming back if he stepped through that door, not until he had what he needed to make Riley better. But a single Caster wasn’t strong enough to take on a strigoi and the Angels had given them nothing to fight the Demons they were in charge of annihilating. It always struck Octavian as a very sick joke.

  Here’s your job, kill monsters that are faster and stronger than you. But you won’t be given matching strength or speed. Instead, here’s a fancy angelic blade. Have fun.

  The angelic blade didn’t even kill the monsters, but merely slowed them down so they could be defeated. First, you had to get the creature to stand still so you could stick them with it. Octavian had yet to meet a cooperative strigoi or inanimis. They always tended not to want to die. Selfish bastards. Even then, the only way to really kill one of the Forsaken or a Demon was to set the thing on fire. Otherwise, it was coming back to life and kicking your ass.

  “How are you making out?” She drew the stack of papers by his elbow over to examine. “Is this the acceptance pile?”

  Octavian shook his head. “Denied.”

  His mother blinked. She glanced at the table between them. “But this is the only pile…”

  With an exhausted sigh, he dropped the second half of the applications down on the ones she held. “Because I don’t think any of them should cross the veil.”

  “Octavian.” She straightened the papers. “You know—”

  “I know, I know, but I’m just not in a demon-loving mood. The whole lot of them could go leap off the deepest pit in Hell.”

  She slipped the papers into the folder and looked at him with level, almost amused eyes. “Why don’t I finish these while you get some rest?”

  He didn’t want rest. That’s all he’d been doing for the last two weeks. But there was nothing else.

  “When will you reopen the bar?” he asked.

  His mother shrugged. “We’re having a family emergency. Everyone else can just wait until we’re ready.”

  Octavian couldn’t remember the last time they’d shut Final Judgment down. He was almost certain it had never happened.

  “Mom?”

  “Hmm?” She never glanced away from the file she was systematically flipping through.

  “Thank you.”

  Her head came up now, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “For what?”

  For accepting Riley, for being there for her, for treating her like you would us, for always being there. There were so many things and not enough words.

  “For everything,” he managed at last.

  She gave him a small smile. “I would do anything for you, all of you.”

  He knew she meant it. His mother had been a pillar of strength since as far back as he could remember. Aside from Riley, she was the only other woman Octavian would give his life for.

  He opened his mouth, hoping to at least convey a partial of how he felt only to be silenced when the door opened and his father marched through followed by Magnus and Gideon.

  His mother was on her feet in an instant. “Reggie?”

  The door opened and Reggie trudged in, shaking snow from his curly brown hair. Behind him, another form stepped in, huddled beneath an enormous winter parka. Their entire face was concealed by a wool cap and scarf. He looked about ready to backpack through Alaska.

  His mother, having spotted her son, exhaled, pressing a hand to her heart. Her eyes snapped to her husband. “Liam?”

  Octavian had no recollection of rising to his feet, but he stood, every muscle rigid next to his chair.

  Shrugging out of his coat, his father draped it over the back of a nearby chair and crossed to stand at their table. “Nothing, but,” he added quickly when Octavian’s shoulders drooped. “We may have found someone that can help us.” He stepped aside, motioning for the stranger in their midst to step forward. “This is Jackamo Bray.”

  Chapter 41

  The water ran thick with soapsuds. It swirled clear down the drain and still Octavian scrubbed at his hands, using soap and brush again to scrub at the blood that was no longer there. It hadn’t been there for days, but he felt it, felt Riley’s life, hot and thick, trickling from his fingers. It was such a strong sensation that there were times he smelled the coppery tang on his skin.

  “Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this bl
ood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas in incarnadine, making the green one red," he muttered out loud to the emptiness of the bathroom. Macbeth had the right idea. No amount of cleansing and scrubbing removed the weight of his guilt. His failure was his shackles to damnation.

  Resigned, he snapped off the faucet and reached for the towel off the rack. He dried his hands, not daring to look, knowing what he would see. Stains. Crimson stains smearing across the white like blood on snow. It wasn’t really there, but it was. In his mind it was.

  Carelessly, he tossed the towel down on the sink lip and stalked from the washroom. He pounded his way to meet the others in the parlor where Jackamo Bray would meet them with information in exchange for a room for the night. Octavian didn’t trust the faceless man but he trusted his father. The man reminded him of a turtle, all hunched over with the ginormous backpack pressing down on his back and his face mummified. But if his information panned out and it helped Riley, he would hear what the man had to say.