Without a second glance, Cora clasped the chalice between both palms and brought it to her lips. A breath of hesitation sent a shiver over the surface of the dark liquid before she gulped it down.
Cora held back a disgusted heave, her esophagus fighting to keep the liquid down. Bile mixed with the rising fluid, burning. Scorching! She grabbed her throat, sucking fire-laced oxygen into her lungs. Her eyes watered, tears spilling in quick succession as she gasped, the inferno increasing.
“What have you done, witch?” Mace shot to his feet, lunging for Saraphine.
A ghost of his writhing fury burst through her, mingling with the agonizing heat that rose another degree, making it impossible for her to do anything but draw sharp, arduous breaths. With each one, the temperature notched higher till she thought acid was eating away her insides.
Looking monstrous, Mace had Saraphine around the neck, her feet off the ground. With a rasp, she whimpered as her legs thrashed wildly. Mace would kill her, Cora realized, as the fire in her spiked to an unbearable degree. It began to migrate from her throat to her chest, bombarding her heart and making each pulse pound acid into her veins. She fell from the couch, clutching her torso, her lungs failing.
There was a distant thud, then Mace hovered over her. Oh goddess, had he killed Saraphine? Should she care? Her mind rebelled against all thought, pain slicing through her brain to the forefront.
“Cora! Breathe!” Mace ordered, as if she hadn’t been trying. She’d never seen him look so helpless.
Saraphine came into view behind Mace, her eyes wide. “You must relax,” she said earnestly. “Stop fighting and let the spell take you. The pain will ease when you do.”
Cora bared her teeth on a suffocated growl, her stomach revolting. Pain was all there could be, all the world was made of, and all it had to offer. Pain was life, and life was overrated. Perhaps it was time to die already, and allow that circling grain of sand to make its final descent.
A torrent of desperate worry rode the edges of her mind. It belonged to Mace and was possibly the purest emotion she had ever experienced. His concern broke her heart and managed to unravel a small piece of the barbed wire that had grown like a weed around it. When that spiky cage had come into existence, she wasn’t sure, but she did know it was tightly rusted into place, and small cracks from Mason’s love couldn’t fully dismantle the structure now.
Still, as she gazed into his tormented eyes, her muscles relaxed and precious air invaded her lungs. With another thick breath, and another, the fire began to diminish till finally it was little more than smoldering embers.
Sitting up, she shot an accusatory glance at Saraphine.
“Don’t be mad. It was a cleansing pyre spell, part of the truth ceremony. You’d never have done it if I’d have warned you.”
“I might have surprised you,” she wheezed, trying to pull herself off the ground.
Mace hurriedly helped her onto the couch, then turned on Saraphine with a scowl. “You did that to her on purpose?”
“It was necessary.”
“The only thing necessary is death and taxes. Everything else is negotiable.”
“I’m fine now, Mace.” Cora resisted clutching her chest where the inferno still simmered. “Let’s just get this over with so we can go home.” Through gritted teeth, she added, “What’s next, Saraphine?”
Sheepishly, Saraphine rubbed her neck. On closer inspection, Cora noticed a slight bruise forming. Before, she would have berated Mace for that. Now any semblance of empathy was gone, and she just raised an impatient brow at the girl.
Saraphine took her place across from Cora and hesitantly held out her hands. “Place your palms face down on mine.”
Cora warily did as asked.
“The potion you ingested opened your aura to mine. Now I’ll chant a spell that will allow the truth to be known.”
Mason’s impatience crawled through Cora’s mind, mingling with her own. It didn’t help that she was beginning to feel idiotic about this whole thing.
Saraphine closed her eyes and started her chant in a low timbre. “Show me the truth, by the power of three. By the power of three, I conjure truth unto me.” She repeated the chant several times, till the words started to run together.
After about the twelfth repetition with nothing happening, Cora rolled her eyes and shot an apologetic glance at Mace. Mace replied with a frustrated frown.
She supposed her desperation to understand her odd predicament, and maybe even her past, had tempted her to take this fantasy further than she should have.
She was about to withdraw her hands when Saraphine’s eyes flashed opened and an explosion of color crashed through Cora’s mind. Her muscles tensed, her spine arching as though from an electric jolt. Vision failed her before piercing light blinded her. Images flashed in quick succession, too fast for her to get a lock on any one.
She strained to focus.
Blurred figures stood out. Two of them, no three. The third was smaller than the others. A child.
Me.
Her parents crouched next to a crying seven-year-old Cora…covered by blood. The dimly lit room came into view. Blood stained the walls in violent patterns. The expressions on her parent’s faces caused Cora’s adult heart to sink into the darkest pit of her stomach.
They were terrified…of their own child.
“She killed him,” her mother whispered, breathless and a little hysterical. “She killed him.”
Cora’s tiny lungs worked harder on a sob.
“I can’t believe it.” Her father darted disbelieving gazes around the room. “She’s too young to be this powerful.”
“But she is. And they won’t care that she can’t control it. They’ll take her.”
“What happened, exactly? Her Father demanded. “Whose blood is this?”
“Adam was watching over her.”
“You left her with Adam?”
“You act as though I had a choice!”
Her father’s shoulders hunched. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Last I knew they were playing blocks on the floor. I came running when I heard Coraline screaming. Adam’s guts were still dripping from the walls when I came in.” She pulled Cora on to her lap, bouncing her. “Hush, hush now.”
Cora clutched her mother and buried her face in her chest.
“Look here.” Her father retrieved a pair of shredded jeans from the middle of the room and snatched a key from the belt loop.
Her mother paled. “We’re to run then?”
“What else can we do?”
The scene flashed forward in time. Cora lay asleep on the floor in a bundle of blankets. Next to her, her mother’s stomach swelled with the first signs of pregnancy.
Her father leaned against the far wall. Worry lines creased his forehead. “They’ll find us if we don’t do something,” he said.
“But bind her? She’ll be defenseless. You do remember the fang marks on her shoulder just after we found her that night, don’t you?”
“I remember,” her father sighed. “That rat deserved what he got, no doubt about it. But she still can’t control her power. She casts spells in her sleep. They’ll find us if we don’t. Besides, we’ll be able to protect her long enough to find a coven that’ll take us.”
“But, her memories too? It’s so extreme.”
“She’s traumatized. That’s why she hasn’t spoken since it happened. When she’s older, ready to train, we’ll unbind her, but I want to bury that memory forever. I want our daughter back.”
Her mother turned thoughtful. “Very well.”
The scene shifted again, and panic flared.
Darkness slammed around her as the building collapsed, separating her from her family and trapping her under a load of debris. Cora didn’t need to be reminded of this painful memory. She knew what was to come. Days of being trapped, nearly starving, crying for her mother and father. Eventually, she managed to clamber free of the rubble and stumbled through the ruins, searching. She d
idn’t want to relive this.
She was shown no pity, and the memory played through.
She climbed over mountains of torn chunks of sheetrock, broken glass, fallen beams, all the while kicking up dust. It entered her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Eventually, her hacking turned painful.
A shaft of light in the distance gave her strength to move her wobbly legs forward. It could be a way out. Maybe her parents had already found it and were waiting for her there.
Over the next hill of rubble, she discovered her father pinned to the hard cement floor by a barrage of heavy beams. His skin was a sickly gray, his mouth limp, his eyes ever staring through a cloud of haze.
Not far, thick strands of her mother’s blond hair was visible from pinched under a heap of broken concrete chunks, dripping red.
Cora could only thank the goddess her expression was hidden under the wreckage, not like her father’s.
No sign of her new baby brother.
She sat atop the heap, clutching her knees to her chest, and stared at her parents for a long while. She stared until her heaving sobs were exhausted and her eyes ran dry of tears. Till her silly child’s hope that they might actually be alive and she just didn’t realize it died along with them. Till she comprehended she’d never again see their smiles. Hear them laugh or fight with each other as they sometimes did. She’d never smell her mother’s sweet scent, or feel the warmth of her father’s bear-hugs.
Finally, as a heavy numbness flowed over her, killing the pain and dulling her senses, she stood and hobbled toward the fissure that allowed in the hated light for her gruesome goodbye.
The vision shifted again, to exactly where she feared it would.
The coming months after her parent’s demise had been trying. She was tired, hungry, cold…alone. Her hair was knotted and matted to her head. Dust and dirt made a home on her skin and clothing, cracking uncomfortably with every gesture.
She found her way into a back alley that she hadn’t checked in a couple of days and picked through trash, seeking something edible. Tears threatened when she found nothing.
“Are you hungry?” a cooing male voice eased up behind her. “I’ll show you where there’s food.”
Cora turned to face the predatory gaze of her worst nightmare, only, at the time, she hadn’t known to be afraid.
“Enough,” Cora cried, vaulting to her feet.
Saraphine jerked back as if stunned, her eyes stark. “Goddess, you’ve had it rough.”
“What happened?” Mace pushed to stand as well, scrutinizing both of their strained expressions.
Cora shook her head, her eyes burning.
As if he sensed her despair, he pulled her into a tender embrace.
She forced a steady voice. “We discovered who bound my magic.”
Chapter 21
Mason paced outside the changing room of the small clothing shop, drowning in Cora’s melancholy. They’d stopped to buy her some new clothes before returning to the cottage. In the car, she’d explained a little about what had transpired. Her parents bound her, suppressed her memories, then up and died, leaving behind a small helpless child. No wonder she learned not to rely on others.
He stopped pacing to ask, “Do you need help in there?”
Cora sighed, the sound a bit muted by the door. “This isn’t necessary. I’m fine wearing the baggy clothes back at the cottage.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Shopping is supposed to cheer women up.”
“Then you’d better pack up this entire store because that’s what it might take.”
“You want it?” he replied jauntily. “I’ll compel the owner to give it to you.”
Cora opened the door and stepped out. One corner of her mouth was curled in a crooked half-grin. It was better than the frown that threatened even now to take over.
“Very funny,” she grumbled. The outfit she donned was the colorful dress he’d selected to contrast her mood.
“No joke. Just say the word.”
“Oh, goddess, you’re serious!” She slapped his chest with the back of her hand, smiling fully now. “Don’t you dare.” She glanced down at the flowery dress. “I feel ridiculous in this.”
“You look beautiful.”
She stilled and studied him for a moment.
“What?”
“You surprise me, is all. I never imagined there was such a thing as a kind vampire.”
“Don’t tell anyone. You’ll destroy centuries of hard-earned reputation.”
She gave a tiny snort. “I doubt a single word from me would send your rep crashing around you.”
“Not just me, the whole vampire nation. When you’re done, you’ll have everyone believing we’re a pack of ninnies, prancing around a field of pansies.”
Impishly, she replied, “Well, aren’t you?” Then she darted back into the changing room.
He laughed. “Why, you little witch.” He bit his tongue on the last word as a pang blasted at him from the direction of the changing room.
Damn. For a moment, he was actually starting to take her mind off things.
“Cora—”
“Could you grab me a smaller size in this?” She flipped a pair of black jeans over the door.
“Uh, ’course.” He perused the storefront for the correct rack. On his way back, he collected a few extra items, then handed them over the door.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Just something else for you to model for me.”
She snorted. “Dream on. I’m not modeling this for you.”
The door swung open. Cora had redressed in her original sweats and white button down. She snapped the red-laced thong at his face like a rubber band.
He caught it. “Oh, come one. Just a quick peek?”
“You sleezy old vamp.” Her lips curled upward as she tried to conceal her smile.
He flashed his canines. “Later then.”
“Ha! You wish.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied shamelessly, then gathered the pile of clothing she had set aside for purchase and placed the thong on top.
She rolled her eyes, flushing a lovely shade of pink.
For most of the ride back, a tense silence settled over her and it seemed as though she wanted to say something, but couldn’t verbalize her thoughts. He attempted to ferret out her emotions through the bond, but he wasn’t getting a clear read. About the seventh time she opened her mouth, only to close it and turn away, he gave up on trying to figure her out.
“What’s up, love?”
She cocked her head. “You were flirting with me earlier.”
“Caught that, did you?”
“But you were feeling so guilty this morning after we...”
“Yes.”
“Are your emotions so easily discarded?” She didn’t sound angry, merely curious.
“I compartmentalize. With all that’s happened, I figure now’s not the time to deal with what happened between us. I’m just glad you’re not under a spell.” Pause. “Well, the spell I thought you were under.”
“And what sort of spell did you think I was under?”
“Not sure exactly. Something that stripped you of your will, your inhibitions. You were very…agreeable.” He smiled.
Another deep blush colored her cheeks.
“Vampire blood might make you more aggressive, spur a body’s need, but it wouldn’t force anyone to do something if they really didn’t want to.” He grin grew devilish.
“I can’t tell if your ego’s been inflated or if you’re just naturally arrogant.”
As he pulled up to the cottage, he replied, “You know, I believe there is something that’s inflated, but it’s not my ego. Care to assist me with it?”
She pursed her lips to fight a smile and exited the car. “You need a helping hand, huh?”
He followed her eagerly as she sauntered toward the cottage. “Indeed.”
“Shall I’ll check if Knox is available for you?”
She laughed, opening the cottage door. Her laugh turned into a gurgled scream as a large hand gripped her by the throat and pulled her inside.
With alarming abruptness, Cora’s air supply was obstructed by a strong vice-like grip. Her feet left the ground, and her back slammed against the inner wall of the cottage.
Through her panic, she assessed her situation, quickly realizing she’d taken her last breath. And though it was futile to fight, her body reacted on instinct. Her nails dug into Trent’s tightening hold, drawing blood. Her legs flailed desperately.
Trent growled at her, his face filled with the purest form of hate.
Mace burst through the door, boiling over with fury. It flooded her like a crashing wave.
He lunged for Trent.
Without releasing her, Trent side-kicked Mace in the stomach. Mace flew backwards and crashed into the wall. Then Trent’s hostile gaze swung back to her, his fangs bared in a snarl.
She stared back at the face of her death. Pinpricks of light began dotting her eyes as her brain was deprived of oxygen. It wouldn’t be long now. Her body relaxed, giving in.
That damn grain of sand dropped, landing gracefully among the pile.
Her time was up.
Chapter 22
Click.
Mace held his aim true, cocking the gun next to Trent’s head. “Let her go,” he ordered in a dangerously low voice.
“Don’t be a fool, Mace,” Trent hissed back.
Mace’s horror turned into terror as Cora ceased her struggles, her body going limp.
“Drop her now!” He tightened his finger on the trigger. “I’m not bluffing.”
“That’s the problem,” Trent said, not budging.
“Now!” Mace screamed.
Trent snatched his hands away from Cora’s throat. She crumbled to the floor, coughing and wheezing horribly. Her body curled into a protective ball.
Trent turned to Mace, ignoring the barrel trained on his forehead. “She’s controlling you, Mace. She’s been a part of this whole thing from the start.”
Mace shook his head. “That’s not true.”
A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) Page 18
