The Marked and the Broken

by Ivy Asher

  “He only told me what he was when he was dying,” I admit, and Siah looks at me surprised.

  “What about what you were?” he queries.

  “He never told me that. I found out at my reading after Talon arranged for me to be found by my uncle.”

  Siah’s eyes narrow, and he shakes his head with obvious repugnance. It’s funny because the reality of what Talon kept from me pisses me off, but seeing someone else judging him for it makes me feel defensive of Talon and the decisions he made.

  “I guess I’ll start with lamia 101, then,” Siah grumbles. “I’m sure you’ve heard our race being compared to that of mythological vampires. We are where that legend finds roots, and there are some truths to the lore, but there are also extreme exaggerations.”

  I nod in understanding and quickly run through every stereotypical vampire ability I can think of.

  “We feed off other creatures, but probably not in the way that you think. We feed on their magic. We need it to survive and replenish our stores when they get low. If we lose too much magic, we can die; if too much magic is forced into us at one time, we can die. And then there’s the good ol’ tried and true decapitation.”

  I think back to the way I killed my first handful of lamia. I must have overloaded them with magic, and that’s what saved me. I didn’t know at the time how it all worked, but it makes sense.

  “Blood is the quickest way for us to access another being’s magic, hence the fangs.” Siah gives me a cold smile, and I can just make out the hint of sharp canines amongst his straight, white teeth. “We’re one of the few supernatural creatures that are made, not born.”

  “How does that work?” I ask, curiosity winning out over not wanting to be rude.

  “We’re drained of all of our natural magic, and then fed the magic of our sire. Their magic either kills us outright or changes us.”

  “They can do this to anyone?” I ask, alarm in my tone.

  “I suppose in theory it’s possible, but it’s technically very complicated. Humans have the highest success rates when it comes to being blooded. All creatures have some form of magic in them, and humans are really no exception. For the most part, their magic is so dormant and diluted, many of them are barely worth the feeding, but some have more than others. Sires are typically older lamia, ones who have built up greater magic stores within themselves over time. When they make another lamia, they need to pull all the magic from the being they’re draining but not overload themselves so that it will kill them. They then need to force their magic into the drained but not deplete their stores so much that it results in death too.”

  Siah looks over at me, and I can tell he’s trying to gauge if I understand what he’s explaining. I give him a nod as my eyes tell him to keep going.

  “It’s a complicated process, and successful sires have it down to almost an exact science. Creatures outside of the non classification are harder to drain and change. It’s not impossible, but it’s incredibly risky and therefore not attempted often.”

  I look out the window into the shadows that flash past us as we drive, and mull over everything he’s just said.

  “As I was saying, Sorik and I were blooded not far apart from each other. We were both new to this world and leaned on each other in an effort to survive it. Our sire, Payter, was a trusted member of Adriel’s commanders. Because of that, we were trusted with tasks and responsibilities that were sensitive and important to Adriel. Which is how Sorik and I met Grier, your mother.”

  My breath hitches when he speaks my mother’s name, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the reaction I have to hearing him talk about her.

  “We were part of a group of guards that Grier always had assigned to her. The rest I think you know, based on what Sorik explained the last time you both saw one another.”

  I nod, putting the pieces together. They were with my mother all of the time. It makes sense that Sorik, just like Talon, grew attached to her.

  “But Sorik didn’t tell you that he and my mother…” I trail off.

  “I knew they were close. I watched out for Sorik many times so that he and Grier could have time together, but I didn’t know until he asked for help with you about how deep the connection between Grier and Sorik was.”

  “You never noticed the runes or questioned the random injuries to his hands?” I probe.

  “The scars on his fingers showed up after we were attacked by another nest. It’s not unheard of for lamia to get injured and scarred in a battle. Most supes know what shifter saliva does to us. They’ll coat weapons in it or carry vials of it to use against us in a fight. His injuries weren’t unexplainable. There was never a reason for me to see him with his clothes off, so I had no way of knowing.”

  “Do you know why Adriel is so obsessed with Sentinels?” I ask, hoping he has this confusing missing piece that helps explain why all of this happened in the first place.

  “We were trusted with assignments, but we were never in Adriel’s circle of confidants. I’m not sure of his exact reasons or how he even knew what Sentinels were, but it fits with what I do know about him. He’s power-hungry and insatiable. He’s obsessed with being the biggest, baddest being on the planet, and I’m not just talking when it comes to lamia. He wants to rule every supe and non alike. The scary thing about him is that he can convince you that you want the same thing. When he talks to the nest, pumps us up, we walk away feeling like gods, like we own the world and rightfully so. It’s taken me a long time to see the manipulations for what they are. He’s a being that gets what he wants, one way or another.”

  “Not always,” I counter. “My mother held out against him.”

  “True, as did the two other Sentinel females he captured before her. But every time he fails, he still learns something new about your kind, and he gets that much closer to getting what he wants from the next one he catches.”

  My eyes widen in surprise at that admission. “He has other Sentinels?” I ask, my heart pounding harder and faster in my chest.

  “He had other Sentinels. I’m not sure if he acquired more before the ones I know about. Like I said, I’m not in his confidence, and it’s not the kind of place you can just go around asking questions about Adriel and what he’s been up to.”

  “What happened to the ones before?” I ask, even though I already know.

  “The first he killed within a week. He lost his temper. The second lasted longer but died in an interrogation with one of Adriel’s enforcers. Adriel had the most patience with your mother, but by the time he found her, there’d been almost a hundred years between his last capture and hers. Plenty of time for him to improve at getting what he wanted.”

  “Does he ever find male Sentinels?” I ask, finding it weird that he keeps stumbling upon only females.

  “That’s what the hunt order is for, females.”

  “Where does he hunt them?”

  “Everywhere. He has teams dedicated to looking for your kind.”

  I grow quiet as I think about that. I have so many questions about how Adriel’s finding Sentinels and where. Does he just let the males keep it moving? I mean, he has to have come across at least one, you’d think, in all the time he’s been doing this. I’m nervous about meeting this big bad lamia, and yet at the same time, there’s a thrill of excitement working its way through my nerves. Does Adriel have answers to the thousands of questions that sit in my chest? Can I get him to tell me what he knows about Sentinels before I rip his head off?

  “So we know what the plan is once Adriel has me, but exactly what are we telling him about how you’re handing me over?” I ask, realizing that we never really worked out that part of the plan.

  “I’ll tell him that you’re there to trade yourself for the two paladin we captured.”

  “And he won’t find that suspicious?”

  “He’ll be so focused on the fact that you’re there, I doubt he’ll question much,” Siah tells me, his tone confident and dismissive.
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  The road we’re on winds to the right, and we drive into an area that’s cleared of trees. The road splits the man-made clearing, and we drive deeper into the dark. I spot something that looks rock-like in the distance. We drive closer, and the rocks turn into some kind of ruin. The remnants of some ancient crumbling castle-like structure loom in front of us, and I’m instantly confused by what’s clearly our destination.

  “What is this place?” I ask. I lean forward in my seat to take in the decaying structure.

  “Who knows,” Siah tells me on a shrug. “Some long-forgotten fortress whose name has disappeared from history.” The brakes give a slight squeak of protest as we slow down and come to a stop in front of the decaying building. Siah climbs out of the car, and I follow him. I spin and take in my surroundings, alert and unsure of what’s going to happen now. Siah walks slowly to me and pulls something out of his back pocket. He unfolds the black square of fabric and offers me the hood.

  “Where the hell did you get this?” I ask, confused, and I watch as he searches the far-off tree line.

  “You’ll need to put that on.”

  I open my mouth to ask him why, but a flash of movement to my right pulls my attention away. I snap my head in the direction of the movement, but I don’t see anything.

  “We’re being watched by the guards. Put this on, and we’ll be escorted in,” Siah demands again, and I narrow my eyes at him.

  Why the fuck do I need to put on a hood? If we’re going to be attacking this place soon, I’ll need to be able to relay as much detail about it as I possibly can. Evrin put a tracker on the car itself, so they’ll already know the location, but information about the layout inside will help them. Doubt claws at me, but out here in the middle of nowhere, I’m not sure what to do about it. I take a step back from Siah, and he tenses.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask him, suspicion saturating every syllable.

  “What do you mean?” he asks, taking a step in my direction, and I immediately flash a short sword and longsword into my hands.

  “Vinna, what are you doing?” Siah demands, but I’m no longer focused on him, I’m focused on my surroundings, waiting for whatever it is that’s making my skin crawl to happen. I tap into the runes behind my ear and reach out to the guys.

  “Something’s wrong,” I begin to tell them and then immediately fall silent when laughter starts to bounce around the crumbling walls of the dead building around me.

  The hair on my arms stands on end, and I don’t miss the cringe that flashes quickly over Siah’s face before it’s replaced with stony features and soulless eyes.

  “Will you just look at her. She’s magnificent!” a deep voice slithers out at me from the darkness. A shadowed figure steps out from behind a disintegrating wall and casually strolls toward us.

  “I wondered how far your misplaced trust would take you,” the figure tells me, the deep bass in his voice trying to tempt me into a sense of warmth and calm. It’s like I can feel the tendrils of his timber caressing over me and trying to sink in. I ready myself, my feet shoulder width apart, my eyes trained on the being I can sense is the biggest threat to me. My Chosen bombard me with questions in my mind, but I can’t answer them right now. I know if I take any focus away from the figure slowly stepping out of the shroud of shadows, I’ll regret it.

  Adriel steps out of the cloak of darkness, and the blackness of night falls away from his face like a hood he just pushed back. He smiles at me sweetly, and it lights up his face and sets his eyes aglow. He’s gorgeous in the way that all lamia seem to be, and yet his coloring is completely unique and different from anyone I’ve ever seen before. His hair is modern and styled like he just came from a salon, each follicle in place as it’s quaffed voluminously up and just to the side. The shade is a very dark brown that leans to red, and for some reason, it has me picturing blood mixed with rich soil.

  He has a beard that’s short and neatly trimmed and freckles that have been generously sprinkled all over his face. The strange shade of his golden-red eyes is what probably sets him apart the most. They’re luminescent like a cat’s, and the molten glow seems to threaten to suck you into them and promises to never let you go. Fair skin with just a kiss of a tan rounds off his unusual coloring. He’s complemented the red tones in his hair, eyes and freckles with a navy blue suit that fits his lean yet muscular body like a glove, and a crisp white shirt that’s casually unbuttoned at the collar tries to make him look less a threat but fails.

  He takes another step closer, and my grip tightens on my weapons.

  “Did everything go as planned?” Adriel asks, his eyes locked on mine, and my eyebrows scrunch up with confusion.

  “Yes, I laid everything out just as you instructed,” Siah tells him, and I try to fight against the panic that starts to rise inside of me at his words.

  “Did any of her companions suspect anything?” Adriel presses, and Siah shakes his head.

  “No. I put up the right amount of fight for the paladin that took me, and the rest fell into place very easily. She volunteered to trade herself for her family just like you said she would,” Siah tells him.

  “Typical Sentinel,” Adriel jeers. “They always play the hero.” Siah and Adriel both scoff at the same time, and indignation burns through me.

  “Sorik and his hunters are back there, waiting for my call so they can dispatch the others,” Siah relays nonchalantly, like they’re talking about the weather and not murdering everyone I love.

  “Run!” I shout in my head at my Chosen, putting every ounce of terror and urgency I can into the word.

  “You motherfucker,” I seethe at Siah simultaneously, and then I leap for him.

  He moves like a blink out of my way, and I’m just able to nick him with my longsword as I swing out at the blur of movement to my left. Adriel’s laughter dances around my attack like a tornado, and I pump magic into all of my limbs, demanding they move faster so I can keep up with Siah’s speed. He growls at me and swipes at his side, his hand coming away streaked with crimson. I let go of my swords and flash throwing knives into my grip, pelting every flash of movement I catch with a blade in that direction.

  I am a streak of movement just like Siah is, and rage is thundering through me, demanding more blood for his betrayal. Lamia pour out of the ruins like ants from an anthill, and I start snapping blades all around me to keep them at bay. I send pulses of Offensive magic and Sentinel magic out into the gathering lamia, and I smile as I watch hordes of them light up and then crumble into ash. I track the flash that I think is Siah as it tries to circle behind me and spin to keep him in my sights while I send ripples of magic out to protect my back.

  Laughter and snarls drown my senses, but I keep my eyes fixed on the betraying asshole, waiting for the opening, for the kill shot that I know is just about to present itself. He’s moving in a predictable way, and I know in just another heartbeat where he’ll flash and my dagger will be there waiting for his heart. Satisfaction bubbles inside of me at the knowledge that two seconds after this dagger sinks into Siah’s chest, I’ll be there to cut off his head. I cock my arm back for the throw, and out of nowhere, something snaps around my neck.

  Whatever it is clicks together, and the next thing I know, my throat is being shredded by blood curdling screams, and my body burns from the inside out. My vision tunnels as I become nothing but pain, and I beg for the encroaching blackness to take me.

  “There’s my pet,” a deep voice whispers into my ear. “You’re mine now.”

  19

  Gentle fingers caress my forehead as they brush hair out of my face. I try to lean into the comforting touch as it brushes against my cheek. Too quickly it’s gone, and a strangled groan of protest sounds in my throat. I bring a weak hand up to massage the pain I’m feeling there, but my hand hits metal, and brutal reality kicks me in the chest. My eyes snap open, and I try to sit up, wincing at the incredible pain and fatigue I’m feeling all over.

  “Slowly,” a voice
commands me, and a cup is pressed to my lips.

  I stare into cold, ice-blue eyes, and I have to blink away the hate and betrayal that starts to well up in my own. I clamp my lips shut against the rim of the metal cup, and a flash of something streaks across Siah’s eyes too fast for me to identify.

  “This will help you heal,” he tells me gently, but I know now not to fall for that passive tone. “With what the collar did to you, Adriel thinks you’ll be drained for weeks. This will help you recover faster,” he tries again as he presses the cup more firmly against my mouth.

  I don’t know what game this fucker is playing at, but I don’t believe for a second that he’s trying to help me. I clench my jaw against his efforts, defiance settling in my features. “Do I need to force it down your throat? Is that what you want, because one way or another, you need to drink this. I know what you think of me right now, and I accept it, but you need to heal and you need to do it quickly.”

  I try to pull my head away from him, but as fast as a striking cobra, he’s holding me against his chest, keeping my head still with one hand and pressing the cup forcefully against my mouth with the other. I choke out a protest and immediately call on every weapon I have that I can stab this fucker with. Pain slices through me, and I flinch away from my magic and bite back a pained cry.

  What the fuck did they do to me?

  I know I didn’t ask the question out loud because talking makes my throat feel like it’s filled with broken glass, but I must be wearing my worry on my face because Siah addresses it.

  “It’s the collar. It makes it painful for you to use your magic. You were using so much of it when Adriel put it on you that he thought he killed you. He took out a good chunk of his elite guard in a fit when you collapsed and wouldn’t wake up.”

  I huff out a tired breath, and the fight I’m trying to put up goes with it. A tear drops down my cheek, and I struggle to swallow down the frustration and anger that’s attempting to escape without my permission. I want to ask about my Chosen, about Aydin and the others, but I trample my need to know. I doubt he would tell me the truth anyway.