My arms were above my head, chained to a wall, the temperature so cold there was no way I could summon any fire whatsoever. In fact, the cold was completely draining me. Never had I felt so helpless, so useless. My eyelids grew so heavy that the only thing I wanted to do was sleep.
No, can’t sleep, have to think of some way out of this.
But what? So dark, I have to focus on something.
Looking over to my right, I thought I noticed someone else chained in there with me. I couldn’t focus on what, or more accurately who, it could be. I could barely see or even breathe. I had to…keep…my eyes…open…
Before long I lost the battle and began having the same dream I always had as a young witchling. Whenever I was feeling alone or afraid, or just plain pissed off about something, or at someone. My guardian angel, or so I’d always thought of him—a gorgeous, pale man with slick black hair, mesmerizing dark chocolate-brown eyes, high cheekbones, the softest, most delicate features, yet utterly masculine all the same. Come to think of it, he sort of resembled Darvyn, the vampire from the carnival. It was never one of those romantic dreams, but more like a comfort dream. He was always there when I felt I had no one else to turn to. Sometimes we wouldn’t even talk, we would just be in a park and he would push me on a swing. Or just hold me on his lap and sing to me in a soothing, almost hypnotic voice while playing with my hair.
But it had been years since I’d had those dreams.
In this dream, I was wearing a long, blood-red silk dress. It came down to my ankles, sleeveless with a V neckline. My red hair fell to my waist in smooth, silky waves I could never get in the real world. He came to me and pulled me into a long, fierce embrace.
“Oh, my beautiful Tialanna, look at how you have grown,” he said in an eerily urgent yet relieved voice. “You are truly a woman now, are you not? I almost cannot believe my own eyes. I have missed so much of your life. So many things I should have told you long ago. How many regrets I have. Well, I am not here merely on a social call, my sweet; we have things to discuss and not very much time.”
“Okay…this is just a dream, so why are you talking like a father seeing his long-lost child?” I started to laugh at that until I saw the intense glare he was giving me. “Hey, I meant that as a joke. No offense. And considering that this is my dream and not yours, whether the joke was actually funny or not, you’re pretty much obliged to laugh.”
He took a step closer to me as one of his eyebrows crept up to damn near his hairline, and I felt an instant chill crawl up my spine. “This is more than a mere dream, child. They have all been more than just dreams. And I think in the back of your mind you already knew that. As for what you just said, it is so much closer to the truth than you could possibly begin to fathom.”
“Well, then, since this isn’t a dream, is it some kind of nightmare? Is the boogey man about to jump out now?”
“No, child,” he said, shaking his head.
“Soooo, if this isn’t a dream and not a nightmare, then what the hell is it? ’Cause I am seriously not in the mood to play twenty questions.”
This was starting to get weird. What in the blazing hells was he talking about? Of course this was a dream…or maybe it was a nightmare, ’cause I would never be caught dead in a dress like this.
“Please, child, what I need to tell you is important. This is not easy for me; I so wanted to do this differently. Though I’m sure it must be even more difficult for you. How can I even begin to explain when you continue to believe this is nothing more than a dream?” With all his ranting, I was starting to have a difficult time knowing whether he was talking to me or to himself. “I told Grimm he needed to bring you to me so that this could be done properly. Then we quite possibly could have avoided all this.”
“What the hell does Grimm have to do with anything? You know, I liked you a whole lot better in my childhood dreams, when you pushed me on a swing and didn’t talk so much.”
“Child, please, we are running out of time—”
“Look, will you stop calling me that? What kind of dream is this anyway? And how, or maybe the better question is why, would Grimm bring me to y—”
Before I could get another word out, he was right in front of me. And his eyes…
“This is not how I wanted to do this, but you leave me no choice. Hear my words and know that they are true,” he practically seethed between his fangs.
I couldn’t move, or speak, just stare into his eyes and listen to his every word.
“I call you child because that is what you are. My child. All those nights you dreamed of me were more than just dreams; it was my only way to look upon you while you were growing up. The only way to be close to you without upsetting your mother, or worse still, the man you think of as your father. None of that matters right now, though. What matters is this.”
My, Grandma, what big teeth you have, I thought as he showed me his lengthening fangs.
“You will not come into your full powers until sunset on the eve of your birth. Your enemies are counting on just that. And by full powers, I do not mean merely magical powers, my child, but your birthright as one of my line. There is no time for more explanation than that. When this is done, the man you have believed to be your father will no longer accept you. Please know that I take no pleasure in that. Also know that you will always have a home with me, should you choose to. If you accept me—accept what you truly are—I will tell you all you wish to know.”
I kept trying to snap out of it, to pull myself free of whatever control he held over me. All the while I tried desperately not to believe what he was telling me, though every fiber of my being knew he was indeed speaking the truth. I don’t know how I knew; he could only make me listen, not believe. The belief came from the conviction in his words, and the awful feeling in my gut. But how could any of this be real?
I’d been taught to believe that vampires were evil incarnate, nothing more than vicious, unfeeling monsters that cared about nothing, even their own kin. So even if what he said was true, why would he give a damn about me?
“Please stop trying to deny what I am telling you when you know it to be true.” He seemed to be on the verge of tears, as if me denying him would break a part of him. “I care a great deal about you, Tialanna—more than you could ever possibly know.”
Great, was he reading my mind too?
“Oh, my darling child, I wish we had more time, but there is none. You must be strong right now. If what I am about to do costs me any chance of having your love and acceptance, so be it. I would much rather you hated me than just sit back and allow you to die.”
Finally, I could at least wiggle my fingers.
“You must drink from me. With the blood that already runs through your veins, a drink from me should awaken at least some of your vampiric abilities, and help you to win this fight. Grimm should be on his way as we speak, to help you.”
With that, he sliced the artery in his neck with a fingernail…no, correction, claw.
At that point I could almost move my arm—too late. He grabbed the back of my head, forcing my mouth to his bleeding neck. I couldn’t stop what was happening.
The first couple of drops tasted salty to my tongue, then it started to taste…good. I can’t even begin to describe the taste of it. It was wet and hot and…with every drop I wanted more. It was like coming in from being stranded in a desert to find a tall, cold glass of water. Quenching a thirst I’d never even known I had.
“That’s right, child, drink.”
I sucked deeper and deeper. I couldn’t stop. It was like getting a taste of something I had been missing my entire life. Just as his wound began to close, I felt my own canines sharpen and lengthen the tiniest bit and sink into his neck. What the fuck?!
I could move my arm again, but instead of pushing him—as my brain kept telling me to—I reached up to grip his hair and pull him closer to me.
I should have been feeling disgusted at that point.
Instead, it jus
t felt right.
His blood was flowing down my throat, and with each swallow I pulled from him, it seemed to fill an emptiness I hadn’t known was there. And no, I don’t mean just in my stomach. It seemed to be going to my limbs, strengthening me. It was sliding down so easily, so naturally, so…
No, this isn’t right. I am not a vampire! This is just some sick, fucked-up dream.
Isn’t it?
“Enough!” he shouted; commanded.
Slowly, I pulled away from him.
“I only hope this will be all you need.”
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I looked down and saw blood.
I woke up, still chained to the wall. I heard howling and fighting outside the room where I was being held captive. I looked down to see a dagger sticking out of my chest. One of my captors was right in front of me. I looked up, staring him right in the eye, with mine blazing red.
“You missed my heart, you sick son of a bitch!” I screamed as I ripped the chains right out of the wall, willed the dagger out of my chest, into my hand, and went for his throat.
8
Where My Dogs At?
Chaos reigned all around me. Right as I stabbed my assailant dead center in his throat, I was finally able to look at my fellow captive head on. And it was Bran, the real one this time. The cowardly, shy version of him. Gone was Mr. Debonair, and in his place was the Bran who could barely get a word out edgewise in my presence. I ran over to him and snatched his chains down just as I had my own, just as someone was about to go for his throat.
“Run. Just find somewhere to hide until I can come for you.” Turning, I faced down his would-be assailant and lunged for him with the same dagger I had just used to kill his counterpart. He narrowly danced out of the way, but I was right there with him, matching him step for step, until I was finally at the perfect angle I needed and went for his jugular.
As I continued fighting my assailants, I noticed several things at once; first, I was not fighting alone. Second, no one was using magic; all the fighting was hand-to-hand mortal combat. Third, some of the fighters were Grimm’s wolves. The others? The vampires I had just met at the carnival, all in black leather fighting attire, and all with some sort of flame mark on their person somewhere. All but my counterpart, the one I seemed to be somehow connected with. Oh, he had on the leather and was wearing it rather well, I just didn’t see the flame marking on him. The moment we saw each other we began to fight as one, just as we had when we’d rescued those others at the carnival.
While I saw the wolves, I still didn’t see Grimm. They were all in their human forms, so he should have been easy to spot. There were also no witches there fighting. As opponents, yes, but none on the same side as me. Which I found odd until I heard the rumbling of thunder that came from outside; they must have been trying to get in. But just as no magic was being used inside, there must have been some form of magic that kept them from entering. All I could tell about where we were was that it was a dungeon of some sort. A very cold one at that, which explained me not being able to use my element. But whatever had stopped the use of any magic or spells was something else entirely. What, I had no idea.
As I looked around, trying to find the source, I heard, “Tialanna, watch out!”
It was the Spanish vamp’s voice from behind me. Someone was throwing a pole my way, aimed straight at my heart, and since I couldn’t use any magic, I couldn’t flash myself out of the way. As I tried to get out of the way, the vampire came barreling into me, knocking me away from the pole that would more than likely have taken me out. It impaled her instead.
“Why would you do that? Hel, you were talking like you didn’t even like me!” What were any of them doing there, for that matter? From the extremely dark, almost black blood bubbling up at her lips, I had no doubt that the pole had pierced her heart.
“We fight…for you…” Before I could even attempt to pull the pole from her heart, her eyes glazed over in true death, and her perfect body began to wither before my eyes. That was when I saw it; some sort of talisman over in the corner, close to the very tall ceiling, well out of my reach. Could one of the vampires get to it?
As though reading my thoughts, from out of the blue, You Know Who (really needed to get his name) sprinted with vampire speed to the very object I was looking at, jumped off a wall, and leaped for it. Yanking it, he brought it down with him and smashed it into nothing. As soon as he did, I felt infused with power, and I could hear the walls being breached from the outside.
Once the witches came in—my friends, my family, even my parents—there was no more battle. We had won. Though not without casualties.
“Abella! Abella! Where is she? Where is Abby?! Where is my Bella?” That last “Bella” was said on a scream of anguish, making me think she was only trying to confirm what she already knew.
And as the female vampire dropped to her knees at my side, I grabbed and held on to her, though I didn’t truly know either of them, and wept right alongside her. Abella had given her life for me, and I hadn’t the faintest idea why.
9
Too Many Revelations
In the aftermath of the battle, one that I was still trying to wrap my mind around, the remainder of the group of vampires came together as one, gathered around me and knelt for the briefest of moments, gathered their fallen and flashed away. That brought on even more questions, and I somehow knew that the man who’d appeared to me in my dream state claiming to be my true father had all the answers. And only my mother could answer the question of who he truly was. A conversation I was not relishing the thought of, but knew needed to be had. I knew that dream to be much more, since drinking his blood had given me the strength I had needed to survive.
My family made their way to me—Mom, Dad, and Elyssia. But as they began to embrace me, passing me around to hug and hold on to, I nearly lost it as memories—snippets, really—of what had transpired before I’d come to came barreling into my mind. I screamed, “Get off me!” Falling to my knees, I let out a truly blood-curdling scream at the top of my lungs.
Once I had finally gotten that out of my system, I wanted blood. “Where. Is. Bran?”
My voice went so cold it was frightening even to my own ears. I got up and started to search for him, for whatever spot the little weasel could have hidden in. The fucking coward.
“What is it, T?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Baby, what happened?”
All those questions were nothing but white noise in the background. Nothing mattered at that moment but finding Bran and getting answers.
And there he was, being pulled from a corner with words of reassurance from my people, not his. What in the fuck was going on? Whatever games his people were playing were about to come to a very drastic end. I rushed over and grabbed him from the helping hands I found him in. Bunching the scruff of his collar into my fist, I lifted him off the ground, damn near cutting off his air supply. Belatedly I would realize I shouldn’t have been able to lift him with one hand; in that moment I simply didn’t care.
“What happened to me? What did you do to me?” Looking deeply into his eyes, I knew it was indeed him. What change had taken place to make him seem so different before, I didn’t know yet. “Answer me, you prick.”
“Can’t…breathe,” he managed to wheeze out.
Lifting one eyebrow, I asked him, “Does it look like I care?”
“Need…breath to…talk.”
I shoved him into the wall, then let him drop to the floor. Thinking better of it, I grabbed him back off the floor and flashed us both to the roof. I did not need or want an audience for this. Some things weren’t for everyone to know.
As soon as we were on the roof, I kicked him so hard in the nuts I’m pretty sure his sac was bleeding inside his slacks.
He started screaming and crying like the little bitch he was, holding on to his nuts and frantically frog-walking backwards, away from me. “Tialanna, let’s t-t-talk about this, p-p-p
-please.” His sentence ended on a painfully high note.
I kept stalking closer to him as each word left his foul mouth. The mere sight of his face… Dear Goddess, it was as though I couldn’t even see the Bran who stood before me right now; all I could see was the smug look and snarky smirk of the other Bran’s face.
“Princess—”
“Don’t call me that!” I snapped, flashes of more of the events that had transpired flickering in my mind’s eye, that very word some form of trigger. Not just the word, but the word being uttered from his lips. Lips that had been over every inch of my body, just as mine had been all over his. I don’t even know how or when I got on top of him, but suddenly I was, and with every flash I remembered, I whaled into him, punching any and every inch of his body that was exposed. My fists were aflame, so with every punch the smell of singed flesh and burnt clothing grew worse, but I couldn’t have cared less at that point.
I couldn’t seem to stop myself; it was almost as though something inside just completely and utterly snapped free and broke loose from whatever chains were holding it back. All sense of control just vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place. I heard some noises in the background against all the pounding of flesh against flesh as I continued to beat the ever-loving hell out of him. Heard him pleading with me and begging me to stop, saying how he was a victim in all of this too. I don’t know if I just didn’t care or if I truly didn’t believe him; I’m not sure I really heard a word he was saying to me. I was past the point of coherency, of comprehension, even of sense of self.
At some point he stopped pleading; stopped even speaking. I think I heard a sound as though he was gurgling, but I couldn’t be sure. All I felt was a mindless, blind, uncontrollable rage. Never in my entire life had I been so angry before.
Witch Wars: The Underlayes, Book One Page 5
