Alexia's thoughts immediately shot to Declan. They had fed from each other. Was that what all of this was? Why his presence in her life knocked her off her feet?
"It's why some say the dark prince went mad. He became addicted to the taste, the rush that followed the feedings. He abused it, eventually becoming paranoid, suspicious of even his most trusted associates and supporters."
"I don't understand."
"I think you do."
Alexia stared in mute horror as her mother again lifted her wrist, offering it to her.
"Quickly, there isn't much time."
Alexia licked her lips, willing her fangs to lengthen. Doubt, fear and the cloying scent of betrayal filled her lungs. "I can't," she whispered, closing her eyes.
"You can and you must. Before I'm dry and cannot help you."
Alexia forced herself to reach out. Her hands trembled as they cradled her mother's slim forearm, her skin ice-cold against Alexia's warm palms. Lowering her head, Alexia brought her mother's wrist to her mouth. Parting her jaws, she positioned her bite along the veins visible beneath the nearly translucent skin.
"Hurry," the Queen urged. "I'll try to focus in on what I want you to see."
Alexia nodded, again feeling the burn of unshed tears behind her eyes. Yet it wasn't until her fangs punctured the smooth flesh of her mother's skin that the tears fell.
The moment the metallic flavor of blood hit her tongue, a jolt cracked through Alexia's body. Dense and heavy, a gray fog swirled over her irises, blanketing her vision in a haze until it was all she could see. Unlike the time she had fed from Declan, it all happened so fast. She couldn't have stopped it, couldn't have pulled back from her mother's arm if she'd tried. The fog held her now. Its pillowy mist filling her lungs with each intake of breath. So thick she could taste it, smell it, feel it throbbing through her skin, down her arms and legs in a powerful tremble that rocked her. Part of her realized the energy rush came from her mother's blood ripping through her veins. Realized she now tasted the madness that Lotharus sought his whole life and the addiction that had changed the history of her people forever.
Sudden shapes began to form in the swirling, colorless matter floating around her. First merely dark outlines, indistinguishable shadows moving behind a curtain. Then slowly layers began to peel away and fold back, revealing bits and pieces. The shapes became people. The constant roar of blood behind her ears became voices. Sounds, once muffled as if she were underwater, began to prick her ears in distinct consonants and tones. One recognizable voice lifted above the others.
The Queen's voice, low and hushed, filled the room along with two others, a male and a female. Alexia squinted, willing the images, the memories clearer. As if the thought begot the act, the fog lifted completely, unveiling a picture before her.
The dungeon. Alexia would know it anywhere. However, at the sight of the other two people whose voices she'd heard, Alexia reeled back, almost tipping off the bed.
The dragon King and Queen!
Her heart kick-started in her chest, racing at a breakneck tempo. She had been right. Her mother did have something to do with all of this. Pinching her eyes tighter, Alexia willed herself to focus, to listen, to hear.
The three of them stood in the corner of the dungeon, not far from where Declan's wing had been clipped. The King and Queen, much like their son, were bloody, filthy from their time spent in the horde's version of hell. Alexia stared at them with curiosity and wonder. Goddess, Declan was right. His father was huge. His broad back and shoulders ate up the vision, commanding nearly all of it. Bulges and valleys of thick corded muscle rolled over his back, his powerful arms. Intricate tattoos wound around each biceps, and ancient lettering had been penned with a delicate hand up his spine.
Slowly, Alexia let her gaze drift to the small female the dragon King shielded protectively under one massive limb. Her delicate shape appeared so fragile and small next to his mighty dragon form. There was no mistaking she'd been born a human.
Alexia recalled how Declan had spoken of them both, the sadness in his soul over their deaths, and her heart swelled with pride and grief. The emotions were so overwhelming, she nearly choked on them. Swallowing down another mouthful of the Queen's tart, hot blood, Alexia focused on what the memory was showing her. What her mother was trying to show her.
"Why should we trust you?" Declan's father spoke, his voice firm and determined. The inflection and tone of it instantly called Declan to mind.
"You don't have any other choice," her mother answered. "You stay, you die."
"But I don't understand," the dragon Queen said. "Why are you helping us?"
"My reasons are my own. All you need for them to succeed is to live."
Another silhouette emerged from behind the Queen. A fourth person Alexia had not seen until now stepped from the shadows and into the low light of the dungeon. When he stepped fully into the light, Alexia gasped in shock.
"Yuri?" she breathed. The uncle she thought had died alongside her father stood beside the Queen. Tall, handsome, with dark hair framing his face and mouth, he looked at the dragons with neither contempt nor empathy.
"This is my brother," the Queen said, motioning to Yuri. "He will take you where I cannot."
They must have sensed the same palpable indifference emanating off Yuri as Alexia had, as neither of the dragons seemed pleased with the plan.
"Why can we not simply return home?" Declan's father asked.
Alexia saw the pulse increase in the carotid on her mother's neck, anger ignite in her usually serene gaze. "This is not a game, Derkein, and time is a commodity you do not have. If you live, it's by my hand, by my rules. Do you understand?"
Without waiting for their reply, Yuri shouldered around the Queen and stepped forward. His intense onyx gaze fixed on the two dragons. Declan's father shifted, putting his body in front of his female, shielding her in a protective move. However, Yuri stopped a few feet away and made no attempt to physically touch either of them.
Alexia looked on in awe as her uncle's pupils sparked to dazzling white as if someone had flipped on a light switch inside his head. By fractions, the light expanded, eating up the black iris and beyond until both of his eyes shone like headlights.
It all happened so fast, it took a moment for Alexia to realize what she was seeing. Took another moment for her to realize what her uncle was doing. What he was.
A Medij, her mind whispered.
Vampire Medij were rare and feared by almost everyone for their invasive abilities. Alexia had only heard stories of his kind and the amazing psychic skills they possessed. But it was said they could occupy a mind with a look. Read thoughts or even place their own in yours. Touch your psyche from miles away with their powerful telepathic force. Some even had the gift of divination, the power of precognition to tell the future or possible futures. Others had been said to be able to move things with their minds. Goddess knew what else a true Medij of her uncle's age and station could accomplish. The possibilities astounded her.
Blinking, Alexia looked back to the scene before her. Under Yuri's Medij stare, all signs of tension left the dragon King and Queen's bodies. Their muscles and posture relaxed. Their defensive walls dropped. For all intents and purposes, the two became mindless slaves to Yuri's will.
Alexia inhaled sharply. To think, if power like Yuri's fell into the hands of someone like Lotharus, if he knew her uncle still lived... A shudder passed through her.
Bit by bit the light faded from Yuri's eyes until they were once again a dark onyx. Without uttering a single word, he pivoted back to the Queen. He paused beside her, their shoulders almost touching. After a moment's hesitation, he looked over at her. His black eyes glittered with commitment and resolve.
"My daughter must be found and brought back to me."
The Queen swallowed and licked her lips. "I swear it."
"Do you? Do you vow to keep your promise to me, sister? That after we are free of his yoke, you'll go down the mount
ain and find her? You'll right your wrong."
Catija nodded in agreement. Yuri's shoulders dropped slightly, followed by his chin. Although his accusatory words came out smooth and powerful, Alexia saw nothing but guilt in his posture.
After a few hushed words Alexia could not distinguish, the siblings acknowledged one another with a nod. Yuri took a folded piece of paper from the Queen's hand and started walking toward the dungeon doors. The two dragons followed behind him in mute and mindless acquiescence. Their stance and carriage indicating they knew they had to be not only stealthy but quiet.
Alexia marveled at his mind control over them, realizing he must have put them in a powerful hypnotic trance so they could all flee to wherever he was taking them without resistance. Although she had never thought of it until now, such a mental state explained why no one had seen the dragon King and Queen. Why they had not tried to return home since being set free. They were still being controlled by him, which meant that in order to find the dragons she had to find Yuri.
But where had he taken them?
The edges of the memory began to blur. The heavy mist closed in again. Wind whipped around her, pulling her hair around her head like a sack. Fear seized Alexia. She hadn't seen enough, hadn't learned enough. But she was powerless to stop the vision from fading. First Alexia could not make out distinct background images. Then, after a few more moments, the entire picture began to lose clarity until everything faded into a whitewash.
Broken and faint, her mother's heartbeat once again thudded in her ears, commanding attention. The pungent taste of quickly chilling blood settled in Alexia's mouth. With the vision gone, reality snapped back upon her like a bucket of ice water. Alexia pulled away from her mother's wrist, gasping for air.
Reality smacked her hard and fast. The force of it tipped her world sideways. Off balance, she rocked backward, her hip slamming on the floor beside the bed. Propping herself up, Alexia leaned her back against the bedside table. She was trying to recover from the physical and mental onslaught she'd just endured, to tame the stampede of powerful blood jolting through her body. An unbearable gnawing sensation clawed at her insides. Icy hot skewers of pain lanced through her skull in a driving headache that nearly made her vomit. But she had to combat them all. Had to get off her ass and get back to her mother's side.
"It's...my time," Catija said between gasps. "The burden...on my shoulders...lifted."
Although undeniably weak, her mother's voice sounded emboldened with strength at the same time, and waved warning flags in Alexia's heart. She rolled to her knees.
"No. Wait," she breathed, a flash of white lights bursting behind her eyes. Clasping the edge of the bed, she moved to pull herself up, struggled to get vertical. When that failed, she rested her head on the bed and closed her eyes. Listening to the rhythmic pull and push of her mother's breathing, she tried to get hers under control.
A hand clasped hers and squeezed. Alexia lifted her head, thankful it did not throb in protest. "Promise you'll be the Queen I see in you, Alexia. Search your heart and decide who she must lead, who she must be," Catija said in one long breath, as though she was trying to force the message out of her mouth before it was too late.
"But I don't know what to do," Alexia said. "I don't know where any of them are."
"Do you...have...crystal?"
"Yes."
The Queen smiled. "Take it...Diana...show you...the way."
"But I can't just leave you here."
"You must." A lone tear rolled down the Queen's face. "Now...go."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CATIJA LAY ON THE BED with her eyes closed. Unmoving, she listened to the steady rhythm of music. Each melodic note of the song throbbed through her, replacing the long numbing pain. Although she recalled asking Alexia to put her disc on before she left, she couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd left her side. She could only breathe in the music. Feel it en compass every inch of her. Each breath came shallower, the time between them prolonged until she thought they might cease altogether.
The bed sunk beneath someone's weight. Long legs stretched alongside hers. At the brush of fingers in her hair, a smile curved her lips.
"Yuri?"
"Yes, Cat. I'm here," he replied. "As here as I can be, anyway."
His voice seemed remorseful, tight with emotion. Something she hardly ever heard from her stoic older brother. Catija wanted to comfort him, reassure him she understood his exile and held no ill will toward him at all. While part of her grieved along with him for mistakes made and all of the time they had lost, right now she did not care about any of that. None of the past mattered anymore. None of the things said or done seemed relevant...except one. One regret, one promise she'd made and would not get to complete.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered, "...failed you."
"Shh." The arms around her tightened and soft lips brushed her temple by her hairline. "You did not fail anyone."
"But..." she swallowed "...the dragons..."
"Will be found," he replied, his palm smoothing down her cheek in a reassuring glide. "As will my daughter. At long last she will be returned to me."
"How?" The moment the question left her lips, understanding pricked what was left of her conscious mind. A glimmer of hope sparked through her dying body. "You've..." she began, but she could no longer get her lips to function. Her tongue felt fat and heavy and stuck to the roof of her dry mouth.
"Yes, Cat. I've seen it. Seen the future," Yuri answered for her.
Those words released the heavy chains shackled around her heart. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt free.
"I did it," she breathed, a smile on her lips.
Yuri nodded, his powerful chest trembling, and she briefly wondered if he was crying. "You did. And I thank you, dear sister."
Warmth Catija had not felt since childhood spread through her like an absolving bath of light. It filled her, shooting out from her core through her limbs in all directions. So bright at first, so all encompassing, she did not register the menacing shadow lurking nearby until it blocked out the light.
Someone else was in her chamber. His cold hate and age-old anger tried to leach the positive energy and remaining power from her. But it was too late. Catija had her release from Lotharus and her past. Death was no longer feared, but a salvation.
Yuri screamed. The heart-wrenching sound a warning, protest and a threat all at once. Catija felt his corporeal being dissipate. His body and limbs shifted into a cloud of energy in an attempt to blanket her. Helpless and raw, Yuri's bellow filled her ears, nearly breaking her heart. While his sadness and loss upset her, she could not find it in herself to feel regret. Even when Lotharus drove the pointed tip of his staff through her heart, absorbing what was left of her power into himself, Catija was still smiling.
"LORD D ECLAN!"
At the sound of his name, Declan spun around. A familiar figure was running full bore down the passage to him. When he neared, the flames from a wall sconce illuminated the young fledgling legionnaire.
"Ash?" Declan handed Doc the parchment he'd been reading and started toward the young dragon. At his approach, Ash stopped running and leaned over. Resting his hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath in heaving gasps.
"They need you...council."
The last word had barely fallen from the youth's lips before Declan took off at a blind run. A thousand thoughts flitted through his mind, but he only hoped and prayed on one. Combat boots pounding on the stones, he took the turns and passageways at breakneck speed, barreling past the guards posted outside the council room without so much as a glance.
The room was empty. Panting, he swept his hand through his hair and paced. He was just about to head back out the door when it opened.
"Did you find her?" Declan asked the first person who stepped through the threshold.
Tallon's brow tensed at his remark. "No. But we found someone else."
Behind her, Griffon entered
the room, followed closely by a scowling Falcon. Declan cocked a brow at the sight of Griffon wrestling one of Lotharus's soldiers into a chair, securing his hands and feet with duct tape. If his face were any indication, the vampire had not come easily. A gash split across his forehead, spilling blood along the sides of his face. The purple flesh had already swollen around one eye to the point it was nothing but a sliver. The other one, milky white, fought to remain open as he visibly warred to stay conscious.
Elder eyes.
Alexia's words floated through Declan's mind, making his heart pinch. When he'd awakened to find her gone, the truth of how much she meant to him, every emotion he'd been too frightened to label, had slammed into him with aching clarity. It didn't matter that the crystal was missing. Nothing mattered to him except Alexia. God's truth, he wanted her in his arms, in his bed. But right now, he'd settle for just knowing she was safe. He could worry about the rest later.
Declan settled his gaze on Griffon, who stood, his arms crossed tight about his wide chest. Declan didn't need to ask who had taken the vampire down. Didn't need to see Griffon's gloved hands to know they were bloodstained. Disgust rolled through him at the realization that one of his flock had beaten this soldier. To think they were no better than the vampires who'd tortured him for information sickened him endlessly.
"Now, tell him what you told us," Tallon ordered, bringing Declan back from his thoughts. The soldier sucked in a breath and rested his head back on the edge of the chair.
"Lotharus has a secret society...of vampires," he said on the exhale. "An army of soldiers he's built and perfected over the past few years." The soldier closed his eyes, wincing as he took in another deep draught of air.
"What do you mean, 'perfected'?" Griffon asked, his face showing distaste at being in such close proximity to a soldier that wasn't dead. When the soldier failed to answer right away, Griffon cracked a meaty fist across the vampire's face. The soldier fell sideways, nearly toppling the chair.
Declan winced as the soldier struggled to sit back upright in the chair. Enduring this was like some form of exposure therapy he wasn't yet ready to undergo. The raw pain of being beaten and tortured still vibrated in the forefront of his mind.
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