Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum)

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Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) Page 34

by Blaylock, Madhuri


  “I’m fine,” she assured him with a smile as she started splitting the shirts she gathered down the middle, making a large piece of material, “I swear.”

  Wyatt closed his eyes, so tired but also unable to watch Dev try to convince herself he was going to be all right. Her sheer determination broke his heart.

  “Wyatt,” she called to him, “open your eyes. You’ve got to stay with me.”

  She set about stacking five shirts on top of one another and moving them close to Wyatt. She then tied the laces together in sets of five, making ten long strands of string. She tested the strength of the strand and when satisfied it would hold, began linking the belts together, making two long, leather straps.

  “What are...you doing?” Wyatt gasped and spat blood.

  Dev hovered over him and wiped the blood from his mouth.

  “I’m going to dress your wounds,” she explained, “and it’s going to hurt.”

  Wyatt remained quiet, waiting for her to begin whatever horrible thing she was going to do to him.

  Dev straddled him and pulling his torso off the ground, she slipped the shirts under him then gently set him back down. She looked down at herself, now covered in Wyatt’s blood and knew she had to work fast. She split open his shirt and studied his wound in detail, gasping aloud the minute she saw the extent of his injury, knowing her makeshift bandage would be little help.

  “I told you,” Wyatt whispered, a tear escaping his closed eyes, “I am dying.”

  “Shut up, Wyatt Clayworth,” Dev commanded, “just shut up.”

  Dev sat back on her knees for a moment, needing to gather her thoughts, wondering how much longer Wyatt would remain conscious.

  “I can help.”

  Dev swung around with blinding speed, her knife directed at the voice, landing against a windpipe, drawing a line of blood immediately.

  “Darvin!” she exclaimed as she withdrew her weapon, “I could have killed you.”

  “I’m already dead,” he replied flatly as he studied Wyatt’s prone figure, “and apparently so is he.”

  “Shut up, Darvin,” Wyatt weakly hissed.

  Hearing some life in Wyatt’s voice brought a slight smile to Dev’s lips as she studied the strange vampire.

  “No, you shut up, Wyatt Clayworth,” Darvin spat right back, “I never liked you much anyway. I’m only here because of your pretty thing.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Dev commanded, utterly amazed by Wyatt and Darvin’s incessant bickering.

  Wyatt remained quiet while Darvin shot her a dirty look.

  “If you can help me, Darvin, do it. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m not Wyatt,” she reminded him, “you and I have no history, so annoying me is not in your best interest. I’ll kill you in a heartbeat.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” Darvin replied, “speaking in such tones is unnecessary, little hybrid thing. I do not take kindly to threats.”

  Dev glared at the vampire.

  “Let’s get one thing clear, that is no threat. Now either help Wyatt or get the hell out of here,” she spat viciously.

  Darvin rolled his eyes and kneeled down across from her, next to Wyatt, studying the open wound.

  “It’s a temporary fix,” Darvin explained, “since the great Wyatt Clayworth would never feed from me, what with him being all high and mighty Sanctum.”

  “Darvin,” Dev hissed, wanting him to cut out the petty, sarcastic comments.

  “Okay, okay, pretty hybrid thingie,” Darvin relented, “keep your panties on and hold the wound together.”

  Dev did as instructed, holding the top of the gash together as Darvin touched his finger to his tongue and then touched the wound, sealing it together with his saliva. They repeated this a few more times until the gash was closed and Wyatt looked almost whole.

  “Do not be fooled,” Darvin warned, “he is pretty much dead.”

  Furious tears welled in Dev’s eyes and as much as she wanted to snap the vampire’s head off his shoulders, she knew she could not as she owed Darvin a huge debt she would probably never be able to repay.

  “Thank you, Darvin,” she replied instead.

  Darvin stood and looked down at her sadly.

  “Anything for you, my pretty thing.”

  He then vanished into the darkness.

  Dev set about linking the remaining belts together, tying them to either side of the jackets she collected and creating a stretcher of sorts. She then gently placed Wyatt onto the jackets, holstered Odara safely at her hip, stood up and began walking back to the place she first met Wyatt, the same spot he hid her that night, leaving her with his precious blade and a wink.

  Entering the enclave hidden deep within the only glamoured quadrant of the park, Dev experienced a flood of memories but pushed them aside as she knelt next to Wyatt, checking his pulse for any indication he was still with her. Picking up the faintest of beats, Dev moved quickly to unbuckle Wyatt’s belt, rip apart the leather of his holster, attach the two and wind the straps around them, effectively tying Wyatt to her back. She shredded the remaining leather of his holster, tied it together and made another strap that she tied under her arms to secure him to her upper back. When she was certain he was tightly attached to her, Dev began inspecting each and every inch of the quadrant. She could hear her father’s voice in her ear, saying in his relaxed but firm tone, “Dev, just focus and find the shimmer.”

  Dev studied the space until she felt everything was just one, big blur and her back was going to break with Wyatt’s weight strapped to her. She wanted to fall to the ground and cry out in frustration.

  And then she saw it.

  The shimmer.

  So slight, but undoubtedly present.

  Dev dragged herself and Wyatt towards the small space, coming to a stop directly below it.

  “Wyatt,” she spoke aloud, “if you can hear me, please hold on to me with whatever you’ve got left.”

  She said a silent prayer, wrapped Wyatt’s arms around her waist and held them tightly, bent her knees and then using her last bit of strength, shot straight into the air, towards the shimmer.

  The portal opened and closed, sucking Dev and Wyatt into the ether, leaving nothing behind but the peace and quiet of the New York City night.

  THE END

  GLOSSARY

  Circle of Ten: governing body of The Sanctum, ruled by heads of the ten Academies.

  Cudera: a powerful purgative containing the Himalayan wildflower, thulo tharshing

  Fireflame: torch used by The Sanctum to burn Magicals and ensure their inability to regenerate

  Founding Family: one of the ten founding families chosen by the gods to create and govern The Sanctum. Each family runs an Academy whose leadership passes down the generations. Each Academy has a specialty, such as weaponry or tracking.

  Ghost Palace: Ramyan warrior palaces, called such by Magicals as they cannot be seen by the untrained

  Hellions: spawn of the devil and demons

  Ichen: compound used to find werewolf venom in the bloodstream or in a wound

  Liquid Lilaup: an antiseptic made from the wings of fairies

  Magicals: common term for any non-human being governed by The Sanctum, including trolls, fairies, werewolves, vampires, demons and wizards.

  Magjistar: powerful warlock or magician

  Mjestec Paste: used to treat fatal wounds, renowned for its healing powers as well as the pain it causes

  Ramyan: sect of Magicals who are said to haunt the edges of the living and the dead, part of neither world, belonging solely to themselves; renowned warriors capable of incredible feats of magic

  Ramyan Sei: Ramyan warrior trainer

  Raven Blade: knife of The Sanctum, used to burn victims from the inside out with its poison

  Shield of the Gods: dome used by The Sanctum to protect warriors from attack as they carry out their missions. Soundproof and incapable of being pierced or shattered

  The Sanctum: body of authority created by the gods to maintai
n peace amongst Magicals and ensure the ignorance of humans.

  THANKS MUCH

  Writing a book is a long, drawn out process that takes over your entire life. For the writer, this is not a bad thing because you are living and breathing your work, are exhilarated by it, you love it. For everyone else, this might not be so much fun. Which is why I owe some serious thank yous to the folks in my life.

  Henry, thanks for accepting the fact that your wife comes with a laptop attached. Dash, thanks for being the coolest freaking kid on the planet. I have done something right to get to hang with a dude like you. Sydney, keep on with your bad self.

  My sister-in-law, Arsha, is the first person who read this baby of mine and encouraged me to keep going. She is a most fantastic cheerleader and also the owner of some awesomely long legs, the likes of which I covet.

  My colleague, Corey, is my partner-in-crime when it comes to reading. We devour fantasy series together, discuss them, argue about them, love them. She is a brilliant lawyer and friend and read my manuscript from beginning to end, provided me with thoughtful edits and indulged me in long discussions about all things Sanctum.

  Emily, my ace in the hole, my number one girl, my super smart friend who never reads fantasy but did so for me. I figured I was headed in the right direction when she told me she couldn’t put this down and stayed up, reading late into the night to finish it.

  Michele, my artistically gifted friend who took some of my jumbled ideas, combined them with her own well-constructed ones, and created the cover art for the book. It is as brilliant as you are, mama.

  And to all my friends who read this, are reading it or will do so, thanks! Now if I can just make it out of corporate America...

  ABOUT HER AND HER

  MADHURI BLAYLOCK is a lawyer by day, writer and avid shoe and dress buyer at all other times. She lives in Jersey City with her husband, Henry, and their kids, Sydney and Dash who are awesome and fierce and supremely cool and able to make her laugh at the strangest things. She would love to add a dog, some chickens, a goat and a burro to this crew, but hasn’t done so just yet.

  Some of her favorites, in no particular order: ice cream, Kill Bill, four-inch heels, Matt Damon, tattoos, Laini Taylor, scotch on the rocks, random office supplies, Martha's Vineyard, "The Girl" aka her Mini, Doc Martens, tulips, photo booths and dancing like a fool. One day she fully intends to grow up; right now, she’s just enjoying the adventure.

  If you have the time and inclination, please check out her other publications, also available on Amazon:

  Ayesha's Teenage Survival Files: Crossing Paths (Book One) available at http://www.amazon.com/Crossing-Paths-Ayeshas-Teenage-Survival-ebook/dp/B005HZY5OK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1381935314&sr=8-1&keywords=ayesha%27s+teenage+survival+files

  Ayesha's Teenage Survival Files: Tough Times (Book Two) available at http://www.amazon.com/Tough-Times-Ayeshas-Teenage-Survival-ebook/dp/B005IA88KQ/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1381935314&sr=8-2&keywords=ayesha%27s+teenage+survival+files

  Madhuri asked her friend, MICHELE MASON HOLMBERG, to send her a bio so she could credit Michele’s brilliant cover art for this book. Michele hasn’t sent anything yet, which could mean that she’s either too busy to brag about how awesome she is or she’s too modest. Couple that with Madhuri’s impatience and you have this: Madhuri’s bio for Michele. At least until Michele sends something herself.

  Michele is Madhuri’s neighbor who Madhuri had the good fortune of meeting a couple of years ago. Michele is a supremely talented graphic artist, who along with producing successful ad campaigns for her company, is also married to the very cool and laid back Par and mom to the fiercely awesome and super cute Jack. They just added two birds to the family, so girlfriend has her hands full 24/7. Madhuri loves inviting Michele over and loading her up on lots of tequila (as she just did a couple of hours ago). Madhuri also loves bumping into Michele on her way home from work so they can ride the bus together, laugh loudly and annoy everyone else. Michele is gorgeous and uber-talented and Madhuri totally loves her.

  SNEAK PEEK - BOOK II: THE BOY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jasmine.

  The first sense awakened was smell; the first familiar scent was jasmine. It was not overpowering, as it tended to be at times, but rather just a hint in the air, enough to arouse a memory.

  Shopping in the market and the vendor giving her a string of flowers for her hair. She wanted to weave them into her braid but there was no time. They were simply wrapped around her neck, a sweet-smelling chain, but not half as pretty as they would have looked in her hair.

  The green grass.

  Her sight returned next and she thrilled at the vision before her, the tall grass of her home, so lush and brilliant. So soft to her

  touch

  which followed and soon she could feel her body returning to itself, feel the ground below her and hear the life around her.

  Sound.

  The water of the channels, lazily rolling along, the birds calling to one another in an endless conversation of nonsense and the branches of trees, swaying in the wind, scratching against each other.

  And finally taste.

  Metallic.

  Iron.

  She wiped her mouth and the back of her hand came away red.

  Blood.

  She sat up and spit. Bright red against the brown of the dirt. She didn't care. The blood was insignificant; the boy was of much more importance.

  The fact that Dev could sit up at all was amazing, a testament to her minute learning curve. Only her second time toying with portal travel and she had no broken bones, not even a scratch she realized as she studied her arms and legs. She stood up slowly, her legs feeling a bit shaky, and wobbled around like a newly-birthed colt. She stretched her arms above her head and shook them out, needing to get the blood flowing through her limbs properly. All the while, she scanned the area for his dark hair, his fair skin.

  Wyatt.

  He suffered a mortal wound at the hands of Max Breslin during their battle in the park but with the help of that bizarre vampire, Darvin, she had been able to temporarily close his chest and make it to the portal. Dev walked back through her steps, certain she had strapped Wyatt tightly to her before allowing the portal to suck them into the ether. She was positive he was somewhere close by, she just needed to calm herself before setting out in search of him.

  Breathing deeply, Dev slowed her pulse and began methodically taking in her surroundings, from the blades of grass to the animal life. She stretched out her mind and became one with her environment, feeling every living organism in her vicinity, searching for a blank.

  Wyatt was the blank. She had never been able to read him, so knew any black space would be him.

  Unless he died. Then he would be missing altogether.

  Dev shook her head as if to rid herself of the negative thought.

  He was here. Somewhere. She knew it.

  He had to be.

  He promised.

  He swore.

  Walking the field in wide circles, an aspect of Dev’s psyche noted the fact that her family home, which once stood on the very spot where she exited the portal, was completely destroyed, obliterated, nothing left behind but ash. Max Breslin had evidently taken fireflame to the entire compound and the bodies of his victims, her mother, father, and brother, prior to his departure, ensuring should she come back to the location, Dev would find only wide, open space.

  But that was a concern from a different lifetime, for a different girl; Dev really just wanted to find Wyatt.

  As she walked, the panic started to rise again in her chest, threatening to overtake her senses and render her useless. Dev stopped where she was, stood stock still and inhaled deeply, calming herself.

  She closed her eyes and waited.

  Several minutes later she could be seen slowly walking southeast of where she exited the portal, near the water’s edge, bent low and then altogether disappearing. Seconds later the still of the afternoon was pierced by he
r animal-like howl and her soul-crushing cries for help.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Odara.

  Before she saw him, Dev saw her. Wyatt’s precious blade, the weapon that so valiantly protected him for years, the same one he left with her that first night in the park. She glinted in the long grass, as if calling to Dev, calling her to Wyatt.

  She walked over slowly and picked up the blade, holstering Odara at her hip then continuing her search for Wyatt, convinced he was near. Certain of it. Willing it to be true.

  Then she saw him.

  Looking back on that moment, Dev would never be able to remember what registered first: his arm, his boot, his hair. She had no idea. All she knew and would ever know was that Wyatt was lying near the water, bloody and still.

  Deathly still.

  She was upon him in seconds, first checking the wound Darvin had closed for her, that gaping hole in Wyatt’s chest, then checking Wyatt’s breathing. She watched his chest for a second and when she saw no movement, listened for any breath sounds. Hearing nothing, Dev pounded lightly on the warrior, hoping he would respond; when he didn’t, she beat on him desperately, despite knowing he was already gone. Portal travel was a brutal experience, the main reason why Sanctum trained for years to handle the effects of time and space, but it was especially treacherous when one was already mortally wounded. Dev knew this when she jumped into the sky and allowed the ether to swallow them, but she had little choice.

 

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