Wyrd Blood

by Donna Augustine

  The door swung open. The room filled with power like a punch to the senses, nearly knocking me off balance. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the worst as my magic rioted and bucked against his. It was like unintentionally throwing myself against a mountain. His magic didn’t push back or retreat, simply remained an immovable force that mine rammed against. His control was immense and the tension eased from my shoulders. If it had rammed back, I would’ve been dead. It took a few moments, but my magic slowly calmed down and flowed around his, like a stream passing around stone.

  I tilted my head back, opening my eyes. He was standing across the room from me, leaning on the wall as I righted my senses.

  Blackest hair I’d ever seen, harsh planes surrounding eyes so deep set that it was striking. The loose black shirt and pants he wore still pulled tight here and there, conforming to the chiseled hardness of a warrior.

  But his eyes, a flash of blue ice—that was where the strength really showed. Another thing I’d often heard about people who had strong magic in their veins was it sometimes showed in the eyes. I’d never seen it until now. There was a lightness and a power there.

  If anything, this man was more than the rumors had led me to believe. There was a reason no one messed with this place, and I should’ve heeded the warnings. I was outclassed in every way, and I wasn’t delusional enough to pretend otherwise. I’d made the worst mistake of my life, and it would probably leave me dead.

  He stepped closer and then squatted next to me. That was when I realized his magic had brought me to one knee. A strange tingling feeling buzzed my skin, and I stumbled back before I got to my feet and moved away from him. “What was that?”

  His expression softened and his mouth was turned up slightly at the corners. “Just making sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “She the one?” Burn asked, as he stepped inside the room.

  “Yes, and I’m about to confirm it,” Ryker responded, not turning his stare from me. “Open your jacket and lift up your shirt.”

  I pulled my jacket closer. “What are you, some sort of pervert?”

  His head tilted just a hint to the side, as if he didn’t have time for my kind of stupid. “I want to see your mark, not your chest. You’re too strong for it to not be on your torso.”

  At that moment, I would’ve rather him be a pervert.

  That was the thing about magic. It always marked you. If you had a little, you were worse off because it liked to show up on the hands and fingers. If you had a little more, it might wrap its way around your wrist. The more you had, the closer the marking was to your torso and the easier to hide from a dull—and there was no shortage of dulls willing to sell information on a Wyrd Blood they stumbled across.

  I’d never seen anyone else that had the marking on their back, as I did. I’d spent the entirety of my life hiding my back, hiding what was on it. Now they wanted me to display it to them.

  Ryker took a single step forward. “I’m going to see it.”

  It still took me a few seconds to move and to give Ryker his due. I was caught. Showing them now meant nothing. I turned and shrugged off my coat, then let it drop to the ground by my feet.

  “What are you doing?” Ryker asked.

  I lifted my shirt. “It’s on my back, not my chest.”

  I didn’t see Ryker’s expression. I didn’t hear anything. The room was absolutely silent.

  Finally, I heard Burn say, “Holy magic.”

  I hadn’t seen it myself since I was five, so I didn’t know what it looked like anymore. I knew even then, though, how the markings would shimmer and almost seem to reach for the light when that skin was exposed to the sun, as if the markings were alive and flowing with platinum.

  When I felt fingers tracing the vines on my back, I shoved down my shirt, ending the connection. I knew whose hand that had been by the strange current it sent into me, and the sizzle it sent through my body, as if his magic was trying to connect to mine.

  I grabbed my coat from the floor, looking for another layer of protection. “Why did you do that?”

  Ryker didn’t answer me, but nodded to the door, and Burn left, leaving it open.

  “You obviously don’t want to kill me—not yet, anyway—so care to tell me what you do want?” I pulled my coat close around me as I waited to hear why he’d been looking for me.

  “Did you know that you walked right through a ward to spy on me?” He went silent for a moment and watched me, tilting his head as he did. He leaned back, arms crossed, and I felt like every inch of me was being weighed and assessed in the most brutally obvious way.

  He was right. I didn’t. Had I known I’d passed over one, I would’ve run for it. So I said nothing. Let him guess. I wouldn’t confirm a thing.

  “Didn’t think so. I can feel the strength of your magic, but right now all you’ve got is parlor tricks. I’ve got a feeling you’ve got more than a few unintentional deaths in your past, as well.”

  I did, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I walked toward the wall and sat down. He could ramble on as long as he wanted. I wasn’t responding until he told me what he wanted.

  “Your poker face isn’t worth the effort. How many have you killed as you’ve recklessly wandered around?” His eyebrow rose with the question.

  I didn’t budge from my spot. Didn’t nod. Didn’t soften my expression.

  “You’re strong and you’re stubborn,” he said, followed by a short laugh, as if my worst trait somehow amused him. Easy to laugh when you weren’t the one who’d stepped in it all the way up to their neck.

  He pushed off the wall and then he was gone. He popped up so close to my side that I jerked away and had to put a hand out to support myself.

  His forearms rested on his bent legs as he knelt just to the side of me. His eyes were on me, staring intently.

  Regaining my composure, I kept my eyes straight ahead. He might break me with his magic, but his mind games were nothing.

  “You’re going to use your magic to get past the wards of Bedlam. In return, I’m going to let you live.”

  My brain had a hard time getting past Bedlam. Bedlam was a country to the north that even the strongest Wyrd Blood didn’t mess with. It was for one really good reason. They had dragons. They also were ruled by King Harvos, who was known for a sadistic streak a mile long.

  I let out a laugh that held only mockery. “That’s a ticket to the underworld.” I stared back at him. Ryker hadn’t looked insane, but he must be.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you want from there?” It had to be something near priceless to start a war with Bedlam.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  I rolled my eyes. That answer certainly wasn’t inspiring. “Even if I was willing, I’m not capable of that.”

  “You are and you will, because it’s that or death. Those are your choices.”

  “Then kill me.” Hopefully it would be less painful than getting ripped apart by a dragon.

  He shrugged. “No.”

  “You said I had a choice.” Was I really arguing for him to kill me? I’d only said it because I was being stubborn, as he’d pointed out.

  He stood and walked away from me. “I lied. You don’t get a choice.”

  “If I won’t work for you and you won’t kill me, then what?”

  “You change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  He smiled, and I felt his magic flaring hot in the room, pushing at my senses. “We’ll see.”

  He didn’t wait for me to say anything else as he walked out and shut the door.

  Chapter 7

  After twelve hours in the room with no windows and no visitors, the message was glaringly clear. I only ate or drank if they felt like it, and if I didn’t do what Ryker wanted, they might not feel like it. Luckily, I had the hollyhoney, but wow did that go down even rougher when your mouth was dry.

  I knew they’d bring me so
mething soon, though. Ryker wanted me alive, after all. He’d declined my choice of death, so there would either be food and water coming soon or he was a fickle man. I didn’t think he was fickle.

  At least there was a toilet of sorts set up in the corner with a pail of water beside it, which I was hoping I wouldn’t have to drink from soon.

  There was a knock at the door that preceded a plate of food, proving I was right about the wanting to keep me alive call. Not that it was that surprising. I’d told Ryker to kill me and he’d said no.

  Burn walked in and placed a plate with a piece of bread, a slice of meat, and a small puddle of gravy on the floor. A jug of water was left beside it. He gave me a wave goodbye, as if we were old chums.

  I heard the bar hit the door once it shut, and I went over to eat. I imagined the boredom might start to get to me at some point, but the food was pretty decent.

  And it wasn’t that dark, because the gaps above and below the door were at least a few fingers wide.

  I didn’t see anyone else again until night fell. Burn strolled in with a smile on his face and a new plate. He also had a pelt in his hand that looked fresh and thick, like I’d be its first owner. He tossed it to a spot beside where I was sitting.

  “I’m not supposed to make it too easy for you, but it’s going to get cold tonight.”

  He took the old dish away as I ran my hands through the new pelt. When he waved goodbye this time, I found myself waving back before I thought about it.

  It wasn’t until a couple of hours after I’d eaten that I felt Ryker approaching. Damn, that man’s magic had crazy distance. He opened the door and looked over at me, where I was reclining on my new pelt. If he noticed it, he didn’t say anything.

  He stepped inside and said, “Well?”

  I said nothing. Did he really think I’d break that easy? This was the best I’d lived in years. I hadn’t lounged around this much since I was born. I even had a fur pelt to wrap myself in to stay warm.

  This schedule went on for days. Twice daily, Burn brought me food, and once every night, Ryker came, expecting me to break. I gave him the same answer I had the previous times. Silence. It made me wonder if he didn’t know how well Burn was feeding me. I hadn’t had to touch my hollyhoney stash since the first morning.

  I’d been there five days. I’d slept better than I ever remembered. I could’ve done this time standing on my head. Except for one huge problem. Even after all that sleep, and all the food Burn had brought, I still felt horrible. I’d been telling myself for months that maybe if I could sleep and eat better, I might actually get better. I’d be able to heal whatever sickness I had. It wasn’t happening. I could feel the life draining out of me. I was getting worse. I’d thought the boredom would get to me, or the worry over my crew would drive me stir crazy. The truth was, I didn’t want to get up and do anything. I felt depleted, and I was surer than ever that I was dying.

  Chapter 8

  The door opened and Burn set a plate a couple of feet from where I was lying on the pelt. His eyes landed on me and stayed there. I’d caught looks here and there as he’d come and gone, but not like this. “You sick or something?”

  If they knew I was dying, Ryker might kill me now. It was one thing to think you were dying, but being ready to die was a different animal.

  “Why are you the only one that does these runs? You had the look of someone important, but I guess not.” And maybe I can annoy you enough that someone else brings my food next time. Someone a little less perceptive would be good.

  He stood as he let out a short laugh. “You didn’t think that would really work, did you?”

  I shrugged. I sort of had hoped.

  “You going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nope.”

  I reached over and grabbed the biscuit off the plate. I didn’t know who made those, but they almost made it worth being stuck in this room.

  I leaned back and caught Burn glancing at my chest, his eyes narrowing. His gaze shifted quickly when he saw I’d noticed, so I let it go. Some men couldn’t help look at boobs, but as long as he stopped looking once I caught him, I didn’t hold a grudge.

  He also didn’t strike me as the kind to force himself on someone. He didn’t exactly look aroused, either. I mean, I didn’t have a huge chest, but I did have one, and I was getting the vibe he’d seen something wrong, as if I had a third boob. Or maybe, even in the dimness, he’d seen the bruise on my chest.

  He picked up the old dishes. It looked like he was going to leave, but he stopped. “I’ve got a deal for you. Tell me how you’re really feeling and tomorrow I’ll let you out.”

  My eyes nearly rolled right out of my head. Couldn’t help it after that whopper. “Sure you will.”

  “I swear on my magic that I’ll do as I say.” He held his hand up, a small flame on his finger. Then he held out his hand to me, offering me a pact. A pact between two Wyrd Blood was nothing to sneeze about. It was unbreakable.

  He was bluffing. Had to be. I held out my hand and waited, expecting him to not go through with it.

  “I swear if you are truthful, you’ll be able to leave if you want tomorrow.”

  Holy magic, he’d said it. If I agreed, that was it. The magic would hold him to his bond, whether he wanted to change his mind or not.

  I looked at our hands for a moment, shocked, and he cleared his throat.

  “I will be truthful to you.”

  I felt the crackle in the air as the pact took hold. We broke hands and I sat back on the pelt, knowing the magic would hold me to my vow as well.

  “I think I’m dying.” That was the first time the words had left my lips, and it was something of a relief to just say it.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m tired and feel like I’m dragging, but this feels like it’s something more. I couldn’t tell you why other than this overwhelming feeling that I’m running out of time.”

  He didn’t say anything for a little while, but I thought he might’ve felt bad for me. He nodded and then left.

  Chapter 9

  I slept wrapped in the pelt along the wall. I didn’t wake up until Ryker opened the door. The candlelight hit the planes of his face, making him look harsher than normal.

  The door was wide open behind him and probably would remain that way, as it always did. I resented the insinuation that I was so feeble compared to him it wasn’t a concern.

  His eyes narrowed on my chest. “Have you taken a hit recently?”

  So Burn had seen the mark. I’d suspected. Why were they both getting so weird about a bruise? Did it have something to do with this feeling that I was dying? Would he let me loose, as Burn had said? Maybe Burn had only agreed to let me loose in the morning because he knew Ryker would kill me before sunup?

  I’d known people who weren’t nearly as hardened as Ryker, and I knew what every single one of them would do: decide I was worthless and execute me. It was safer than letting me go and possibly leaving himself open for me passing on information about what little I knew of their country or them.

  I was sick, maybe even dying, but I wanted every last day I could squeeze out of this body. Time to play healthy. “I took a hit the day before I came here.”

  He reached back and shut the door. It closed with a heavy thud, or maybe that was my heart beating out of my chest. He never shut the door when he came. He never brought a candle, either.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  Would he rape me before he killed me? I scrambled to my feet, getting tangled in the pelt for a moment as I did. I clenched my coat tightly to my chest.

  He dipped his head. “I want to see the bruise. I’m not interested in you in that way. You’re a thief.”

  Relief should’ve poured through me, and it did for half a second. Then I wanted to punch him in the face. And after I punched him, I wanted to melt into nothing because of the way he’d said that word. Thief wasn’t a good term on anyone’s lips, but the way he’d said it…
My cheeks burned at the stacked insults. I didn’t hate him before, but I did now. He didn’t know what it was like to look at hungry eyes every day, as they hoped you’d bring them food and you couldn’t.

  He placed the candle on the ground and then disappeared. He reappeared in front of me, yanking my coat open and my shirt down, just shy of my nipples. But he wasn’t looking at my breasts, and he didn’t appear to like what he was seeing.

  I tried to zap him, but he didn’t seem to notice. What was that about? Why didn’t it work on him?

  He let go of my shirt as he stepped back, oblivious to the fact I’d tried to hurt him. I stopped focusing on him and tucked my chin in to get a glimpse myself.

  I grazed the darkened patch of skin with my fingers. A knot formed in my throat, and I felt like someone had dropped a stone in my gut. All the sleeping I’d been doing and the regular meals hadn’t helped at all. It was worse than ever. The bruise now spread outward and upward by four or five inches from where it had started at my heart. It might’ve been on the base of my throat, but I couldn’t see past my chin. No wonder Burn had noticed it.

  My eyes went to Ryker. “Is this some sort of trick? Did you give me something or do something while I was sleeping?” How could it have gotten so much worse so quickly? It had to be them. A trick or something.

  I stopped trying to look down at my chest and raised my eyes to his face.

  His eyes met mine but then returned to my chest. “I need you healthy, not sick. I wouldn’t waste my magic on a thief. This isn’t a normal sickness. If I wanted you dead, I’d just snap your neck.”

  I nodded, my gut telling me he was speaking the truth—about everything. I probably didn’t want to know how many necks he’d snapped, and I didn’t know what was more disturbing at the moment.

  “What is it?” My voice was more fearful than demanding as I ran my fingers over the spot and up my neck, trying to get a sense of how far it had reached by touch alone.

  It was bad, whatever it was. So bad that even Ryker, the man who didn’t seem to have any difficulty being brutal, was holding back. “It’s spread to the base of your throat. How far was it the last time you saw it?”