Wyrd Blood

by Donna Augustine

  Wyrd Blood

  Book One

  Donna Augustine

  Copyright © 2017 by Donna Augustine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Also by Donna Augustine

  Prologue

  Brief History of the World

  In 1620 BC (Before the Change), magic sprang into existence. No one knew why or how this occurred, as there had never been magic in the world before. Some speculated that it was because of the dual eclipse of the moons. Others said it was because the planet shifted on its axis. But no one had any logical theories on why some people were gifted with magic, and others were not. Or why magic would skip several generations. The only thing that was brutally obvious to all was that magic was power and this was the beginning of a new world.

  By 391 AC (After the Change), people gifted with magic had taken control of every country in the land. The power structure had shifted and righted itself to this magical reign and a new normal had taken shape. The Wyrd Blood, as those with magic in their veins were sometimes called, were hoarded as commodities by their stronger brethren. They were kept in gilded cages, bred for more magic, more power.

  But even as people found their footing in this new world, no one realized what world they’d be soon living in once the Magical War of 810 began. Because those with the thirst for power are seldom satisfied until they have it all.

  Chapter 1

  910 AC

  Ryker stood leaning beside the open door, his face silhouetted by the full moon shining behind him. I didn’t need to see his eyes to feel the burn of their stare. The same night breeze that ruffled his dark hair caressed my skin, taunting me with a hint of freedom. It was a stark contrast to the cold stone wall at my back, as I sat in the windowless room.

  The world unfolded ten feet away, yet I didn’t have any hope of reaching it because of one wrong decision. Wasn’t that the way of it, though? A single misstep and everything crumbled around you. Safety, permanency, they were the grand illusions we all tried to partake in. Eventually, though, the truth would shine its harsh light on our endless vulnerabilities. That was when the true survivors stood, while the weak crawled into the shadows.

  I wouldn’t be among the weak. I forced the fear down, into a dark pit within, as I had so many times before in my life. The regrets were harder to swallow back, but I did, knowing he was searching for weakness. I wouldn’t give this man a crumb. He already had too much power, and I wouldn’t take part in any illusion of my defeat. I wasn’t finished yet, not by a magic mile.

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his white shirt pulled tight over broad shoulders as he made himself more comfortable. I sat stiff as a board, afraid to reveal anything while we sized each other up in the darkened silence.

  “How many days are you going to sit here?” He raised his hand, mocking me as he made a show of counting his fingers. “Going to need the second hand soon.”

  I didn’t laugh at his crude joke. Didn’t scowl, either. I’d figure a way out of this mess, and then we’d see who was gloating.

  He didn’t like me. I didn’t like him either, so at least in that, we were on an even playing field.

  His hand dropped. “You must realize this is a waste of time.”

  His tone was that of a person who thought they had all the control. I said nothing, as I had for the last four nights he’d come, my insides charring from restrained anger.

  He turned his head, his hawkish profile partially revealed in moonlight. He smiled, and it added a chill to the already cold room.

  “What if I tire of this game and kill you? Aren’t you afraid to die?”

  I was already dying. Probably that much quicker, too, in this hole. I quickly blocked the thought as his magic reached out. I tried my best to keep up my defenses as his magic swirled in the air and filled the room, testing me, surrounding me, trying to find my weaknesses as it attempted to lure me into letting down my defenses.

  He might beat me eventually. He was strong, stronger than anyone I’d ever met. But if this was my time to cross the Styx into the forever night, I was going with a fight.

  I’d die here if need be. That was the craziest part of knowing you were dying. It trimmed off all the should-haves and cut you right down to your essence. It was a gift of freedom, cursed with a lack of time. It made you think back to everything you’d done, every decision, every word, and see it in that harsh light. Some actions shone and some cast a dark shadow on your timeline.

  He crossed his arms in front of him, his forearms rippling. “You’re going to give me what I want.”

  I shrugged, a silent Think whatever you want. Time will tell.

  I tilted my head back, looking at the ceiling. “Are we finished for tonight?”

  He let out a short laugh that, unlike the smile, sounded genuine. “I’ll leave you to your amusements until tomorrow.”

  He walked out and shut the door to the empty room while I shined that harsh light back over the last week of my life, and the regrets flooded back to the surface.

  Chapter 2

  Eight days earlier…

  A hand gripped my shoulder and a surge of energy shot to the area before I could stop it.

  The hand was gone, followed by a string of “Gods, fucking, magic, fucker…”

  My eyes slanted open to Ruck shaking the singed hand in the air. He said it was similar to a burning feeling, but it felt more like a zap of energy on my end.

  “Sorry.” I’d long ago stopped trying to explain how it was an automatic reflex when I was startled. Ruck had heard it too many times before to bother repeating. I pushed off my pelt on the floor and glanced through the gaping hole in the wall that had once probably held a window, as the rest of the holes probably had. The moon still hung in the sky. “What’s up?”

  Ruck stared at his hand, so whatever reason he had to wake me, he didn’t deem it as important as the throbbing. “I hate that I’m the only one who can wake you up.” His tone didn’t have much heat, though, and most of the anger ebbed with the sting.

  “I keep telling you to poke me with a stick or something.” I pointed to the corner, where I’d left a stick handy. I knew why he didn’t do it, whether he’d admit it or not. He thought maybe if he got zapped by my magic enough, some of it might seep into him. Wanting to be Wyrd Blood was like asking for someone to stamp a price tag on your hide. That didn’t seem to stop some from trying.

  “What’s up?” I repeated, knowing there had to be some reason he was waking me, when it was his l
east favorite thing to do.

  “Reilly is here. Wants to talk to you.”

  I flopped down back onto the pelt, the floor a little harder underneath than I would’ve liked. I kept forgetting that I’d given Marra one of my pelts. “Just because he runs his crew at night doesn’t mean he can’t communicate during the day. Did he say what he wanted?”

  “He’s not giving details, but I don’t think he wants anyone to know he’s here. He came alone.”

  My attention jerked back to Ruck as if he’d grabbed my chin. Alone? Why the hell would he come alone?

  The questions must’ve been written all over me, because he nodded, as if to say, Yeah, you probably want to find out what this is about.

  “I’ll be down in two minutes.” I stood back up and rummaged through the small pile of clothes I had in the corner, looking for something warmer to throw over my shirt.

  Ruck left me alone as I fumbled in the dark until I grabbed the sweater out of the pile. It was my best one, with only a few tears here and there. I threw it on and halted for a moment as a pain in my chest, right where the mysterious bruise had formed, nearly brought me crashing to the floor. I took a few short breaths, let the worst subside, and shook it off. Whatever was wrong with me, it was getting worse, but I couldn’t worry about it now.

  I made my way through the dark maze of hallways, one of the reasons this building was such an asset. Anyone who managed to get in wouldn’t get out so easily. My guess was that, over the years and many incidents, the place had been reconstructed so many times that it had become a hodgepodge made just for me and my crew.

  I made my way downstairs to the second floor, knowing exactly where Reilly would be waiting. Didn’t matter that we’d been doing deals with Reilly for a few years now. You only needed to get sloppy once to end up dead. And most people only died once, although I’d heard of a few Wyrd Blood that had been killed a few times before they stayed dead. I didn’t feel like finding out if I had more than one run in me tonight.

  Reilly was perched on a window ledge when I walked in. Blond hair so light, he looked nearly albino. He was tall but lanky, like most of us struggling to survive in the Ruined City.

  “What’s going on, Reilly?” Reilly wasn’t his real name, but then again, mine wasn’t really Bugs. No one used their birth names in the Ruined City. Most of us hadn’t ended up here by accident.

  He turned from where he’d been looking out. His dark eyes, striking against so much paleness, skimmed my form in a way that made me wish I’d had more than one sweater on—not that he’d cross that line.

  He stood, a flirting smile on his face. “Hi, Angel.”

  Reilly was the only one that ever called me that. He’d said when he’d first seen me, I’d looked like an angel, with hair the color of sunshine and eyes that reminded him of sunny blue skies. That was the day I started taking dirt baths, but he’d kept up with the name.

  “What do you want?” There was no patience for sweet-talking when you woke me in the middle of the night.

  “I’m here to do you a favor.”

  If this was a favor, it would be the first he’d ever done me. Barter? Yes, that he would do all day long, but no one did favors—not for another crew, anyway.

  “What would this favor be?” I asked, instead of why. Why implied that it was something of value he might be offering. I couldn’t afford any debts.

  His lips stayed sealed as his eyes shot to the door. Reilly had a healthy dose of paranoia. It was probably what had kept him alive this long and made him the leader of his crew.

  “No one’s listening.” Except for Ruck, but I would’ve repeated everything to him anyway.

  “There’s word people are asking around for a Wyrd Blood in the city.”

  Wyrd Blood, a carrier, gifted, marked—cursed. There were all sorts of names for those that carried magic in their veins, and the word you chose depended on the way you viewed it.

  Reilly had hinted around in the past, trying to figure out if there was a Wyrd Blood in my crew, but I’d ignored him. There were only two people who did know for sure I was Wyrd Blood. One of whom was Ruck. I trusted him with my life. The other, well, she didn’t have a reason to betray me. Or I didn’t think she did.

  If you carried more than a drop of magic in your blood, you became the hunted. The lords and ladies, kings and queens of the countries would torture anyone they crossed in order to get information. Magic was power, and when you were always on the cusp of war, you needed as much power as you could get.

  Reilly was going to take people poking around as a confirmation that he was right. That would be an inconvenience, but it looked as if I might have bigger problems now. Reilly could be bought. I was afraid of who would be the highest bidder.

  “So? What’s that got to do with me?” I shrugged even as the blood drained from my legs to shoot straight to a thumping heart.

  He crooked an eyebrow. Reilly wasn’t running his own crew because he was stupid. “I figured that information might be useful to you.”

  Did I fess up and try and pay him off now? But with what? We’d barely made it out of the winter. There was nothing left.

  “It isn’t. Was there anything else?” What I really wanted to know was: who was asking, and did they actually know?

  “Just watch your back. I’ve heard Ryker’s name being whispered as possibly being behind it.”

  I was wrong. I hadn’t wanted to know.

  Ryker. Everyone knew that name and stayed far away from anything to do with him or his lands. For as long as I’d lived here, I’d heard the rumors of a man named Ryker and of the Valley, the country he ran. Now there was a Wyrd Blood who was strong enough to not have to hide. But like the other Wyrd Blood with great power, he’d become the predator.

  “There’s benefits to our crews joining,” he said, only a couple of feet from me.

  I knew which joining he really wanted, and I wasn’t interested in either. Plus, he was crazy. If our two crews joined, we’d become a target. Too many people meant too much attention, and I’d already been born with a mark on my back.

  I held my ground. “No.”

  “Why are you like that? Don’t you like men? Or women?” He threw his hands up, as if he couldn’t figure me out. “Or anyone?”

  I knew that in this bleak land with so little solace, people wondered why I was never with anyone. They could keep wondering.

  “Thank you for the information.” A cold politeness infused my words. I walked out of the room and didn’t need to look back to know Ruck would make sure Reilly left.

  I knew after that talk, catching some sleep would be akin to trying to catch my shadow. I climbed my way up to the roof, letting a harsh breeze sting my cheeks, as I watched Reilly walk away in the night.

  It didn’t matter who was looking for me. I was free.

  So why did I feel like there was a noose tightening around my neck?

  It didn’t take long for Ruck to find me. He walked over and stopped beside me, staring off in the same general vicinity. If I asked him what he was watching, I doubt he’d know.

  We stood there for a few minutes before I ripped the scab off. “I’ll figure it out.”

  He nodded as he bit at the inside of his cheek, and his eyes said what he didn’t want to voice.

  “I will figure it out. I always do.”

  “Okay.”

  He said it like someone who didn’t think it would be, though.

  Chapter 3

  A sleety mix pelted me as winter refused to relinquish its grip to spring, and I pulled my coat closer around me. I dodged the worst of the mud puddles as I made my way down the abandoned main drag of the Ruined City.

  It was a quiet morning and the locals were lying low, moving to the farthest outskirts, afraid they’d be pulled into the next war if they were seen by the strongest Wyrd Blood. The current rulers regularly searched for more bodies to fight their wars. As if we needed any more wars.

  Reilly’s warning had only made the
suspicion churning in my gut turn into a boulder, but clearly I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Trouble was brewing again, as it so often did. More fighting, more destruction, more death.

  The remnants of what had once probably been works of architectural beauty, the scars of those very wars, loomed on either side. Like a beautiful woman, the bone structure was still there even as the exterior weathered. Every year taking its price. And just like the beautiful woman who would eventually be laid to rest, these buildings would be nothing but mounds of debris. Future generations wouldn’t even know what beauty had once existed.

  It was for the best. No one would know the heritage they’d lost. Everyone would dream of the future, thinking the best was on the horizon and not know it lay crumbled in the shadows of the past.

  It was only another handful of ruins before the crowning jewel of the city stood before me. This building, far from its prime, had fared better than the others. I wondered if the mason who had laid this brick were alive, would he feel any pride in his creation weathering the downfall of humanity?

  A girl who appeared close to my age, maybe just nearing twenty or so, leaned in the threshold, marring the one good thing left in this city. She slumped as if she didn’t have the energy to hold up her thin frame. Dark shadows haunted her face and a dope stick hung from her lips. Her lids at half-mast made it obvious it wasn’t her first chew of the day, maybe not even her second.