by V. C. Willis
“Dante, now!” Ashton’s shout worked as an invisible shove.
Risking the flames, I swung fast and true, racing through the fiery chaos. The screams had ceased as I slowed and turned. Heads fell to the fire as their bodies slumped and folded. I watched as the meadow of pastel flowers became scarred with a second ring of black ash and a smattering of red. The flames died off, the heart beats no more except one racing in the short distance.
I will gladly give mercy.
John stood in the shadow of the tunnel exit. Our gazes met, and he dropped the keys and slid to the ground. I resisted the urge to race to him. He paled, shaking and distraught. I stood at the center of what I had done, covered in the blood of my enemies. At last, I looked to Ashton, the blade clean despite the cuts made. Scowling, I hated it. I wanted to be his sword and shield so badly, but was this really what I intended? Neither of us wanted this to be the path taken.
“Well done, little brother—”
I slid Ashton into the sheath, muffling his praise.
“Don’t praise me,” my harsh whisper sent a shiver through him. “Taking a life should never be praised.”
I will always show mercy.
Marching to John, I offered a hand down to him. He hesitated, searching my face before grabbing hold. Plucking the keyring from the ground, I shoved it into the satchel. Turning, I squatted on the ground and offered my back to John.
“You can’t be serious,” scoffed John.
“I am. We don’t have time before the rogue comes back with more,” I countered. “Now hop on.”
Grunting, he wrapped his arms around my neck, and I grabbed his legs before standing up. John hissed, the gunshot wound still seeping, the smell of his blood and the pattering of his heart telling me how much he fought against his reaction. Without any hesitation, I headed south, following the cliffs of the coastline.
If I keep going this way, eventually I should find Terahime.
“I’m sorry, Dante.” John’s words made me tense as he nuzzled closer into my ear. “You tried so hard to escape this, and I thrusted you into it.”
“The line was drawn long before us.” My words felt empty even to me despite the attempt to accept the fight had started long before our meeting. “We’re just trying to survive.”
“No, we’re pushing back.” His arms tightened around me. “We’re in over our heads.”
“We’ve always been in over our heads.” I shifted, pulling him back onto me better.
“Don’t lose yourself.” His words made my heart leap, and I stumbled to a stop. “Promise me, Dante.”
I clenched my jaw tight, brow folding. Is that even fair to ask of me this far into losing myself?
John began pushing and twisting, forcing me to let him back onto the ground. The gulls screeched in the setting sun, the ocean roaring loud as the wind kicked up. A storm in the distance flashed with strings of lightning too far to hear the rumbles of thunder. Behind me, I felt John’s eyes digging into me. I didn’t want to face him; I couldn’t face him. I’m such a monster now that I can’t even reply to him. How can I promise something I’ve already lost?
A hand gripped my wrist, and I found myself being tugged down a seaside path to the rocky beach. John pulled me to a pool of water caught in the sandbars until I knelt in the wet sand, dumbfounded. John stripped off his jacket and tossed the priestly collar to the wind, as if a declaration of renouncing his priesthood. Taking the knife from his waist, he began shredding his jacket into rags and strips of cloth. Before I knew it, he washed the blood from my body, scrubbing it from my face. I sat silent and obedient, watching him with desperation that I couldn’t put into words or action. By the time he finished, the tide had started to rise and the moon high above made the breaking waves glow. The storm vanished, and a calm cloudless sky filled with stars had taken over.
Satisfied he had completed his duty, John dropped the rags and cupped my face. “I promise to help you find yourself again.”
I inhaled swiftly, the words striking me at my core. He knows … that I can’t make the promise because … I’m never going to be able to go back to being simply Dante. No, I’m the Blood Prince, I’m a bloodeater, I’m a monster who devours life… I can’t make that promise.
The heat of his lips pressed firmly against mine. It was hungry and impulsive as he parted his lips to deepen it. I followed, wanting this aching in my chest and soul to stop. Wrapping my arms around him, I let myself fall back into the sand, pulling John with me. His blood was sweet, his warmth welcoming, and his desire needed. A wave rushed up on us, breaking the moment as we scrambled to our feet and backed away. I turned away from him, ashamed and lost.
“Dante, I love you now and always.” He spun me at the pathway and kissed me once more. “I didn’t want to ever see you so broken.”
“It can’t be helped.” My fingertips pulled strands of his golden hair from his eyes. “I’d happily destroy myself for you.”
“Don’t say it like that.” He dropped his gaze and shoved my hand away. “Let’s keep moving. We’ve rested long enough that I can walk for a while.”
I covered my mouth, mumbling to myself, “What am I to do with this?”
“You cherish it.” Ashton’s voice made me shiver, remembering we weren’t fully alone again. “And you continue to protect it at all costs.”
I chased after John, and we walked in silence, following the coastline and chasing the hints of torchlight and the lighthouse in the distance.
Can I really find myself again after all I’ve done and bring down Fallen Arbor? And exactly how far will I go to protect him above all else?
Chapter 34
Terahime
Much to my relief, there were no gates surrounding the seaside town of Terahime. It was much larger than Taverns Way or even Liefseid in both size and population. A woman dropped her baskets coming out of her door as the sun rose to signal morning. At this point, I had John’s arm slung over my shoulders, and he teetered on the verge of passing out from pain and exhaustion. She rushed us to the apothecary, and they cleared a table to inspect his state and wound. I stepped back, helpless and dirty. The old man pulled bottles and began mixing items in two various bowls.
The woman left us, and the old man turned to me, stern in tone, “Lock the door and turn the sign.”
I did so and returned posthaste. “What can I do to help?”
“Grind these until it’s a mash of sorts.” He shoved a bowl and pestle at me. “The crow said you’d be coming yesterday, and one would be injured. He’s a mess. Already fighting an infection and you both smell like death.”
“We had to go through the catacombs and sewers,” I offered, and his face grimaced at the news.
“In that case, I’ll have you grab the two jars way up on the shelf. A dash of both in the bowl. He’ll need something strong, considering the elements the wound was exposed to.” He turned and shoved John, forcing him to sit up, still in a half-daze. “Come on, boy. Shed this shirt.”
“N-no.” John gripped the buttons stopping the apothecary. “Only he can.”
I blinked, marveling, “That’s never happened before.”
John motioned me closer, leaning heavily on my shoulder to slur, “I can’t let anyone see this mark since it’s not of a priest.”
And with that, he passed out onto me. Shit!
“Ah, we can finally—” I gripped the old man’s arm and pushed the bowl and pestle into his hands to block his reach for John.
“I’ve got him. It’s a long story, but he wishes no one to see the scars he bears.” The half lie will have to suffice. “I take instruction well, but I’ll need a safe place for us to sleep.”
He grinned, turning to the worktable. “I’m Henry, and you can stay in the basement room. I offer sanctuary to all The Guild, and I was told you two would need a safe place. Now, if you push on th
at shelf, you’ll uncover the steps, and I’ll bring the supplies to you.”
“Thank you.” I hoisted John up in my arms and navigated through the shelves.
John shivered, and his body burned with a rising fever despite how pale he had become. I put my shoulder into the shelf, and it scudded and swung open. The steps spiraled once, and below I found a table, chairs, and two beds. Peeling the wet clothes from his body, I rolled him on his side to inspect the wound. I covered my nose, the smell of infection making my stomach twist. Steps creaked upstairs, and I pulled the covers up to hide his branding.
Henry had a bucket filled with supplies and another with steaming water. “Look, you need to scrub him clean, and after that, use the black stuff for in and around the wound. The green one he needs to drink a tablespoon of, and this herb is meant to cover the open wound when you wrap it. Can you do that much for it, boy?”
“Why does every old man I run into call me boy?” I muttered, taking the buckets from him.
“You’ve got a pretty face and haven’t learned to stay out of trouble yet.” He chuckled, turning back for the stairs. “Rest up. You’ll be waiting for your companions for a while. Captiva City is in a complete lockdown. No one in and no one out by cree of the council.”
“I imagine so.” I soaked the cloth in the hot water. “The royal guard was engaged in a skirmish in the church when we escaped, which I imagine caused—”
Henry turned, confused. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” A chill snaked up my spine.
“King Regius is dead, and Bishop Marquis has gone missing. He’s under suspicion for murdering the King, though who knows since both had Guild contracts out for their heads.” My expression said volumes, and he sighed, offering, “Look, take care of him, and I’ll have the inn pull you a bath next door. Sounds like a lot more chaos went down in Captiva City than we know about. Best to let it settle and sort itself out. Nothing you can do about it anyhow in the state you’re in.”
Henry hummed to himself as he climbed the stairs and left me there in the lantern’s flickering light. I cursed under my breath, the heavy breathing and slow heartbeats of John reminding me I had more important matters to fret over. Pulling the covers back off, I went to work cleaning and scrubbing. John winced and hissed as I went but drifted in and out of his haze. Next was the jar of black salve. It smelled of tar and stung my eyes. The first dab woke John, and he gripped my wrist, locking eyes with me, and I smirked.
“We should really stop taking turns at putting our fingers into one another’s wounds like this.” I flicked my eyebrows high, and he sighed.
“Make it quick. I’m exhausted.” He laid back into position, releasing me. “This stuff is as bad as the last salve you painted me with. In smell and bite.”
“Well, it doesn’t get any better.” John grunted as I dabbed a second portion onto the open wound. “This apothecary has brought you something to drink for the fever.”
Reaching into the bucket, I handed him the bottle of liquid syrup, and he raised it to the light. “I don’t like the looks of it. Why is it so green?”
“I can only assume because most herbs are green.” I pulled him to me and dabbed salve on the other side of his torso. “A tablespoon. That’s all you need for now.”
John grunted, muscles tightening as the salve met open flesh. “Dammit, that stings like fire.” He opened the bottle and gagged. “How can anyone drink something so rancid?”
“It’s either you drink or continue to fight the chills,” I offered.
John fell silent, glaring at me. I didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on his wound, circling back to add salve in places it was missing or seemed to have absorbed into the wound already. Capping the jar, I reached for the herbs and bandages. John sat up, heart fluttering. I began the tedious task of wrapping his torso, my breath sending goosebumps across his skin at being so close to his body.
John, this isn’t the time to feel this way…
John’s forehead connected with mine before I could pull away. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea you can pick up on how my body feels before I do.”
Searching the air, I mustered the best response I could. “I still can’t read your thoughts, and that’s far more dangerous.”
He kissed my forehead and pulled away. “I suppose we both are in the dark about one another’s inner workings.” He cracked open the jar, and we both jolted back to cover our noses. “This is…”
“…more putrid than the sewers.” Our eyes met, stinging. “Drink up?” I offered.
John scowled, staring at the green ooze. “Please tell me I have a chaser for this.”
Looking around, I spotted a bottle of whiskey on the table. Opening it, I confirmed indeed the bottle hadn’t expired. “Whiskey?”
Closing one eye, John took a gulp and swapped bottles. He chased the syrup with hard long gulps of whiskey before shoving the bottle to me. John’s disapproving expression behind the forearm over his mouth only goaded me to take a few long draws of whiskey. The liquor was enough to numb the instincts screaming inside me wanting to take our playful banter to the next level. John flopped back onto the bed, and I pulled the cover up to his shoulder as he turned to face the wall. Pulling away from his side, I left the supply bucket just under the bed and turned the lamp low. Lugging the water bucket now stained red with blood back upstairs, I found Henry waiting patiently for me.
“You don’t have to close the store on our behalf. He’ll sleep for a solid day at this rate.” I lifted the bucket. “What do I do with this?”
“I’ll open in a moment,” he gruffed, pulling glasses on to scribble something in his book. “Splash it on the cobblestones and take the rags and bucket to the bathhouse next door. Tilda will know what to do with it and you.”
“R-right.” I started for the door and stopped. “Thank you for your help. Let me know what I owe you.”
He waved a hand, not breaking from his scribbling. “You’ve managed to get this far, Blood Prince. If you aim to end this war and push back the Madness, none of us will get in your way.”
I pushed out the door, heart racing. Dammit, does everyone know who I am? How the hell am I going to travel without leaving a trace at this rate?
“Will he be okay?” Ashton’s voice was soft, nothing but a whisper.
I sloshed the dirty water across the street and looked for the bathhouse signs before whispering, “He’ll live. He’s too stubborn to die.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen love like the kind you share with one another.” Ashton paused a moment as I pushed through the Tainted Lady Inn’s doorway. “I’ve felt that way for someone but never seemed to receive the affection in return without some stipulations and sense of duty interfering.”
I looked around the bustling place. Sailors and merchants gambled and drank. Plenty of scarlet women and men led them to booths with curtains. The ale and liquor mingled with the scent of lust and roasted meat. On the large hearth, some strange creature was turned over the fire by one attendant while another scooped stew from below it where the dripping and meat fell to add to the mixture. It was lively for so early in the day, reminding me of a daylight variant of the lumberjack’s gathering in Liefseid. I caught sight of the inn’s bathhouse and room signage and started for the counter.
“Oh! You’re from the apothecary!” A petite woman seemed to appear out of thin air, hooking her arm in mine and guiding me to the back of the inn. “We’ll get you good and scrubbed down, sir!”
“R-right. I can do it myself—”
“Not here! In Terahime, it is tradition to provide bathing services. Just call me Tilda, sir.” She led me into a large room with many tubs steaming with fresh water. “Henry paid for a private session. Normally we are packed, but it’s early enough we should be left to ourselves.”
“Um, I really don’t think—�
� I tried once more.
“Here, here. Let’s start to undo these pesky buckles.” Her fingers were quicker than my refusal, my belt and manica loose before I could grasp my surroundings. “So heavy!”
Gripping her wrist, I stopped her at the claymore halter’s first buckle. “This stays close to me, and you are not to touch him.”
“Him?” She tilted her head, arching a brow.
“It,” I corrected as my cheeks reddened.
“You’re hilarious,” giggled Ashton.
I propped Ashton against the tub and ignored his commentary. “I assure you I can do this myself—”
In an instant, Tilda had the buttons of my shirt fileted open with practiced expertise, and she pulled the armor from me. “My, you’re a big boy. Don’t you worry, I’m the best the inn has to offer.”
“Look, I’m not looking for a Scarlet Woman,” I blurted.
“Oh, but she’s offering,” Ashton announced.
Tilda pulled on my pants, pulling the belt free. “Well, they didn’t pay me for that, but…” Her eyes drank me in, dropping my pants to the floor before giving me a sheepish grin. “…I might offer that for free.”
Flustered, I pulled my shirt off, boots kicked off and was in the tub faster than she could chase me. “Thank you, but I’m fine.” I worked fast to unlace my braid, fearing she’d notice the sixteen knots. “I’d like some privacy—”
“Here she comes!” he warned.
Snow-white arms were swift with soapy rags as she reached in over my shoulders and scrubbed the dirt and blood from my chest. Her breasts pressed against the back of my neck, and I became very aware of how thin the fabric was, more so now that it began to grow wet from her sloshing. Her scrubbing ventured farther and farther down until I gripped her arms to stop her descent.
