by Rye Brewer
I inclined my head in acknowledgment of his compliment, as backhanded as it was.
“I’m sure he’ll miss your wisdom once the war begins.”
My eyes widened before I could keep from reacting. “What do you mean?” I asked, a quiver in my voice.
“Just as I said,” he replied, his smile triumphant. “This is exactly the excuse I needed. I suppose I owe you a better fate than that of the dungeons, but rules are rules. Regardless, you’ll be taken care of. Let it never be said that I don’t know how to repay a favor.”
“You can’t do this!” I shouted, all pretense of having myself under control falling away as the soldiers began dragging me away.
“But I can!” he called after me in his deep, booming voice. There was laughter in it, and it echoed behind me. “I can, and I will! Thanks to you!”
Thanks to me.
He was going to start a war because of me.
What had I done?
12
Allonic
“I’m sorry I was away for so long,” I murmured, sitting on a boulder beside the tree. “I needed to spend time with my thoughts and memories. I’m sure you understand.”
I raised my chin, looking out over the horizon.
She understood nothing anymore. She never would again. My mother was dead, and it was my fault.
All that was left to remember her by was the mound of dirt beneath her favorite oak tree, a tree we had often sat beneath when I was a child, before she’d been sentenced to life in the tower.
We’d spent endless hours together, observing the clouds as they passed and naming the various flowers and animals who scampered about.
The most precious memories of my life.
She would always be under the tree, with the clouds passing overhead as they once had. When she’d told stories of her life in the human world.
“Do you remember when I used to ask when we’d be able to go to the human world to live together?” I asked, shaking my head at my own naïveté. “I never understood the sadness which used to come over you when I’d ask that. I understand it now. I know how much you sacrificed for me. You might have been able to go back there if it hadn’t been for me, for wanting to be with me and keep me safe. You could’ve lived outside that tower. You could’ve been happy.”
And she could’ve been happy with Gregor, too. They could’ve built a life together. But not anymore. Because of me. My greed, my stupid lack of vision. I’d only seen what was important to me at the time.
None of it was important anymore. I didn’t care about garnering the respect of the shades. I didn’t care about taking my rightful place at the top, where I belonged by blood. Look where that ambition had gotten me.
Where it had gotten my mother.
“I hope you like the place I chose for you,” I murmured, brushing a few fallen leaves from the mound.
It would settle in time, and grass and flowers would carpet it. Only the stone near which I sat marked the grave. I didn’t dare carve anything into it—if Garan found out, he’d have her dug up. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I’d spent days in Sorrowswatch after the burial, days which I barely remembered. They’d all blended together, one long stretch of pain and guilt and self-hatred for what I had brought on all our heads. I had destroyed not just her life, but Gregor’s. Anissa’s. Sara’s.
My own.
I stood, looking down once more at the grave. “I’ve been away too long,” I announced. “I should get back to the others and find out if I’ve missed anything. And if they’ve missed you. I still don’t know what happened to Vance after he did what he did to you. But I promise, I’ll find him. And I’ll make him pay.”
I couldn’t be there any longer. I had to go. I turned my back on the grave, my heart tearing to pieces in my chest as I thought about her being all alone under the tree for the rest of eternity. She was too beautiful, too good and pure, to be there. Underground. But that was the fate we all shared, no matter how good we were.
Knowing this did nothing to ease my pain. I knew nothing would.
What would the others think when I returned? I hadn’t been to my own chambers under the mountain for more than a few minutes at a time, for longer than I could remember. Ever since Anissa and Jonah had arrived and they’d pulled me into their world.
Did Anissa know? Did Sara? Gregor? What did they think? Were they aware of who had led Tabitha to her murder? I didn’t dare go to any of them for fear that they were aware and would never forgive me.
What did it matter? I would never forgive myself.
I would miss them, though. Anissa, especially. We had only just begun to build a relationship between us. She was always getting herself into trouble, always in need of assistance. What would happen to her without me to call on?
There was nothing I could do about that. She would have to do without me, because there was no choice but to remove myself from her life. No matter how it pained me.
After all, I reasoned as walked into the cave and began the journey to my chambers, she might just as easily refuse any assistance I were to offer. And that would pain me worst of all.
“Allonic?” The sound of a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks as I was just about to head into my chambers. “Where have you been?”
“Steward.” What could I say that would make an acceptable excuse for my long-term absence?
He was rarely anything other than placid, so the sight of his wide eyes and flared nostrils set off warnings in my head. There was something going on which he couldn’t wait to share with me.
“Did you hear of the trespasser? Is that why you came back?”
“Trespasser?”
“I suppose not, then,” he reasoned, his voice deep and rough as always. “She’s been in the dungeon since yesterday. Found at your mother’s tower.”
My senses went on alert, my skin tingling. “The tower? Who was it?” And did he know of what had occurred in the tower?
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There have been so many conflicting reports. None of us can remember a time when a trespasser was jailed. Normally, they lose themselves in the woods, and we find the body later. It’s never come to this.”
“No. It hasn’t.”
The dungeons were more a threat than anything, used when one of us committed an infringement. I couldn’t even remember the last time anyone did. Perhaps that was the sort of thing Ressenden had preferred to keep quiet. I wondered how many other aspects of his leadership he preferred to keep quiet.
He looked around in all directions, up and down the length of the tunnel we stood in, before continuing. “The reason I felt it important to tell you of this was the girl’s description. She has white hair.”
My heart sank further than I believed possible. Anissa. What was she doing there?
“She must have lost her mind,” I muttered. Looking for me, perhaps? Or for our mother? Yes, and she’d been in the tower.
Once again, someone I cared for was about to pay the price for my selfishness, stupidity, and greed.
“I don’t know about that, but I know that Garan is furious,” Steward reported.
“No doubt.”
“He considers this a declaration of war, and intends to respond in kind.”
“War with the vampires?” I gaped, certain that I must have misunderstood him.
Garan was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He had no chance of winning a war against a massive vampire army, and their leaders wouldn’t be foolish enough to play into his hands. Jonah would never allow it.
Steward frowned. “No, not the vampires. The fae. He’s wanted this for a long time, I’ve heard. An excuse to invade Avellane.”
“Avellane?” It felt as though I were trying to hold onto sand with my fingers spread. No matter my intentions, I couldn’t manage to make sense of what I’d walked into.
Of course, Gregor would hear of Anissa’s capture and, in Garan’s mind, this would be enough to warrant a battle.
Was Garan correct about this?
“I have to see him,” I decided, pushing my way past Steward in my determination to get to the throne room before Garan did something unforgivable.
“You think he will listen to anything you have to say?”
“I don’t know. More than likely, no.” I turned down another long tunnel, my rage growing with every step I took.
He didn’t know it, but my cousin was about to bear the brunt of the wrath which had taken root as of late. Losing my mother, losing everyone else I cared about as a result, something had bloomed inside me, something deep and dark and seething.
If he didn’t listen, I would find a way to free her.
It was the least I could do.
13
Gage
“Help…”
Who was that? That pathetic, gasping, whimpering voice? It reminded me of nails running down a chalkboard and sent the same sort of shiver of disgust down my spine. Who was that broken, begging creature?
It couldn’t be me.
But I was the only person in the cell. The only person in that entire godforsaken underground pit. Just me. And the rats.
Process of elimination led me to the conclusion that it was I who’d whimpered like a broken animal. Whimpered to no one, as there was no one to hear me.
The floor was cold and damp beneath my back. Unforgiving. I’d lost weight, and no longer had the benefit of as much padding between my bones and the harsh surface. I felt every crack, every uneven bit of stone and earth. As though even the roughhewn rock beneath me mocked my pain. As though everything around me was part of a great plot to destroy my sanity.
It was working, too. Very well.
I had to stay perfectly still. Every movement was an exercise in agony. Fire flowed through my veins, poured into my muscles, at the merest twitch of a finger or flex of a foot.
Because I was starving.
How long had it been since I last fed? I’d long since lost track. What was the point of counting when there was no end in sight? No end at all? My mind was already beginning to unravel. Why hasten the inevitable?
I’d heard stories of vampires who went without blood for great lengths of time. They hadn’t died—at least, not from starvation. Was there dying from starvation for our kind? That would be too easy. No, we probably suffered forever, unless we found another way to end our torment.
Grisly stories ran through my mind, weaving ugly images together which moved back and forth across my consciousness. Taunting me. Foretelling my future. Vampire brethren who had gnawed through their own flesh in an attempt to end the torment. One who had broken free of the dungeon in which he’d been starving and had immediately flung himself from the top of a staircase, cracking his skull open by the time he hit bottom.
But that hadn’t been enough. He’d begged one of the others to kill him and end it, and the guard had impaled the wretched, screaming creature on his sword. By then, so the story went, the once-powerful vampire had been nothing but a shrieking wraith. A mere shadow of his former self.
I knew that would be my fate. It was only a matter of time.
Gage…
I closed my eyes, squeezed them tight, refusing to listen to the voice which teased at the edge of my mind. I wouldn’t listen. I wouldn’t pay attention this time.
Gage… I’m here, my love…
No, no, no, she wasn’t here. She’d never be here. Another cruel trick of my fevered, desperate brain. The sound of Cari’s voice, calling to me. Whispering promises of solace, comfort, love.
Why won’t you look at me…?
“Because you’re not here,” I whispered. “You’re not here. You’re not here. Leave me.”
But I didn’t want her to leave me. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to help me leave that terrible, hopeless place. That hell.
Worse than hearing her voice was thinking I saw her in front of me, on the other side of the iron bars. She had come after the first few days, and I had never experienced such joy as I did when I first saw her. When I thought I saw her.
The cruelty. I squeezed my hands into fists, barely able to close them.
She wasn’t the only one I’d seen, but I’d seen her the most. Jonah had appeared more than once. Fane, only he’d been Dommik again. My father. And my mother. What were they trying to do? No, what was my mind trying to do? What was it trying to tell me? Why did it insist on torturing me so?
All of them, bringing up old hurts and slights. Reviewing every shortcoming, every time I had failed. It brought to my memory the early days, when we were all human. The village deacon had told stories of the suffering souls went through before they were clean and whole enough to enter the kingdom of heaven.
Was that what I was going through—rather, putting myself through? Bringing up every single ounce of selfishness I’d ever labored under? Every slight, every sharp word, every mistake? Every time I’d ever been thoughtless and selfish? My soul, or what was left of it, burned with this. All of it. The ultimate cruelty when my body was already wracked with unimaginable pain.
And he knew I was going through it. He knew every single ounce of the suffering he was putting me through.
“Micah.” I hated to give voice to his name, hated hearing it echo off the walls and floor and ceiling, quickly fading into the ever-present background noise of dripping water and skittering rat paws.
What was he doing to her? I winced as fire sang through my head when I turned it from one side to the other. What were they doing together? Could I believe she still loved me enough to be true to me? Did I even want her to? Selfishly, yes, I wanted her to save herself for me and only me—but there was no chance of our ever being together again. I couldn’t ask her to wait forever.
But not him. Anyone but him.
Fresh waves of excruciating pain washed over me, wiping away all thoughts of anything but my physical torment.
Soon, that was all I would be able to think about. The thirst. The hunger. The pain.
I licked my lips to no avail. The there was no assuaging the dryness, the ache in every cell of my body. Crying out for the one thing I couldn’t possibly have.
Blood. Sweet, hot, thick blood. How had I ever taken it for granted?
Ah, just a drop. Just enough to wet the inside of my mouth, to moisten my tongue. I wouldn’t ask for more than that. I wasn’t greedy. Just enough to make the thirst go away, to drive away the burning, screaming pain…
The sound of scratching just beside my head forced my eyes open.
The rats had grown bolder once it became clear that I was no threat. As though their keen instincts understood my weakness. As though they felt me dying. They didn’t know that I would not die. That I couldn’t die, at least, not like this.
And so they’d begun investigating me. Slowly, taking their time, never behaving too boldly. This one was roughly five or six feet from my face. No more. Far enough that it could easily scamper away at the first sign of movement.
I couldn’t have caught it if I’d wanted to, my reflexes hopelessly sluggish, and the pain which burned through me making it impossible to be sharp or quick.
There was nothing to do but lie there and watch as it assessed me. I didn’t dare look away, no matter how I wanted to. Its sleek, black fur, the long tail. The beady eyes, taking me in. Studying me. Who was I, and how much longer until I was dead and ripe for feasting?
The image of a half-mangled corpse with my face turned my stomach. I gagged, bile rising in my throat, my body clenching in agonizing spasms. And still, the rat hovered there, unsure whether to leave me alone, or pretend I didn’t exist.
And I felt the same about it.
Was it my imagination, or could I hear its heart beating? And the blood which flowed from that heart…
“No… no…” I tried to move my arm, to wave it away, and the rat jumped back in response. But it didn’t run away. It was bold, it knew I had little strength left. What would happen when they all knew? When I couldn’t m
ove without screaming, without my body feeling as though it were being torn into pieces? Would I find the strength to move, to fend them off? Or would I let them do what nature had programmed them to do?
Would it be a mercy?
What if I…
They had blood…
Not much of it…
“No!” I closed my eyes again and kicked out with my feet. That scared it off. I heard its tiny claws scratching against the surface of the floor as it darted off through the crack in the wall, leaving me alone again.
Could I have caught it? Would I have? No.
I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t fall that far. Only mindless, soulless beasts drank the blood of rodents. And that sort of blood did things to a vampire, changed them. I didn’t know if it was possible to change back. I didn’t want to see for myself, either.
No matter how I suffered, I wouldn’t do that to myself.
Would I?
I licked my parched, cracked lips again and wondered. And hoped I wouldn’t live long enough to know how far it was possible to fall once true starvation set in.
14
Scott
The air didn’t move, and yet the fog swirled all around me as I stood not far from where we’d come through.
This was Duskwood. A black, blank sort of place that brought to mind the image of a creator who grew bored with the world they were putting together and deserted it halfway through.
“Come.” Fane led the way, my mother’s body still resting in his arms.
If it pained him in any way, he didn’t reveal it. Only through his hard, intense eyes did I get any sense of what she’d meant to him. That, and how reverently he appeared to carry her.
“What will you do with her?” I asked, careful where I stepped.
I couldn’t see the ground. What was down there? The tops of the gravestones just visible over the fog brought to mind another image, more disturbing than the last: hands reaching out from the graves all around me, stretching, seeking something to hold onto as they pulled themselves out.
