Redemption (The Arotas Trilogy #3)

by Amy Miles

  Gone. How can they be gone?

  A growl builds in his chest as he races around one corner and then the next, burrowing deeper into the earth. The air is cooler here and deliciously moist against his scaled skin. His tongue flickers out between his thin lips, tasting the air for her scent.

  She can’t be gone. She will ruin everything!

  “Out of my way,” he grunts as he shoves through a thick group of Eltat. Their hisses and mutterings instantly cut off in his wake. Lucien stops abruptly at the cage door.

  He lifts his nose, breathing deep. He can smell blood. Fresh blood.

  “Bring me Malachi’s body,” he snaps, curling his claws into Matis’ filthy rag shirt. Lucien doesn’t usually keep fallen ones as servants, but this one was a gift to Malachi nearly two thousand years ago. As vile as the beast is, Lucien has always had a bit of a soft spot for it. Matis is smart enough to know where his loyalties truly lie.

  “I cannot,” Matis squeaks as Lucien’s grip tightens.

  “What do you mean?” Pressing his face dangerously close to Matis, Lucien watches the boils on its face quiver in fright.

  “That is not him.”

  Lucien jerks upright and releases Matis. The fallen one scrambles backward. The instant he has his feet under him again, he shoves his way through the peering crowd of Eltat. Lucien is only vaguely aware of his departure as he kicks open the gate and steps inside.

  A large pool of blood glistens near the center of the room. It trickles slowly along the gentle slope of the ground toward the rusted metal grate. He can hear the random pattering of blood hitting the ground below and grits his teeth.

  He doesn’t have to look long to realize who the victim is. “Ainsley,” he growls, whirling around. His anger burns deep as he reaches for the first Eltat, easily ripping its head from its body. Its spinal cord drips green blood upon his cloak, but Lucien hardly notices as he grabs another and another.

  Limbs smack against the wall as the bodies mound up. Blind rage nearly makes him slip as he reaches for the final victim. Its colorless eyes are wide with terror as it’s claws rake deep into the flesh of Lucien’s arm, but he hardly notices the pain.

  “Find him, Phio. Make him pay. Then bring her to me.”

  With a mighty roar, Lucien launches the creature down the hall. It cries out as its leg shatters. The pitiful mewing sound grates on Lucien’s nerves as he storms down the hall. “Never mind. I’ll take care of them myself.”

  His fingers clamp down on the creature’s head. With a flick of his wrist, it pops off. Warm blood pours from the severed head and over his hand. Lucien grins and steps over the body as it falls to the ground, his rage sated for the moment.

  Eighteen

  Nicolae sucks in his breath as Sadie takes a swing at him, the tip of her blade narrowly missing his stomach. “Good. That’s good. Attack again. Don’t give me a chance to regain my footing.”

  He leaps as she drops to the ground and swings out her leg, narrowly missing him. The instant his feet are on the ground he slides to the left to parry a blow as she rises. She is light on her feet, much more so than he would have anticipated. “Those self-defense classes must have been amazing,” he laughs as he ducks to the side.

  The clash of steel rings around them. On and on she attacks, never seeming to slow or tire. The longer they spar, the harder Nicolae has to work just to keep out of reach. She laughs as she advances, hooting with delight as she manages to back him into a corner.

  “Give up?” She grins.

  “Never!” He lunges. With the tip of his blade he slaps her wrist and unsettles her grip on her sword. Dropping low into a kick, he sweeps her feet out from under her and she topples to the ground, her blade clattering several feet away.

  Sadie laughs, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, the horror. A mortal bested me.”

  Nicolae chuckles as he drops down onto his knees beside her. “I have been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

  She peeks out from behind her hands, a smirk tugging at her lips. Before he can react, she slams her hand into his arm. As his weight shifts, she rolls on top of him and pins him to the ground, straddling his waist. Her smirk widens with triumph.

  “Oh, you’re good,” he laughs, placing his hands on her thighs.

  Despite the thick layer of snow that he’s lying in, Nicolae can only feel the warmth of Sadie on top of him. Her smile softens, growing sultrier as she leans down and whispers in his ear. “You let your guard down.”

  He nods, the back of his head sinking further into the snow. “Only for you.”

  She tries to laugh off his words, but a flush rises from her neck, staining her cheeks red. Nicolae grins as he grabs her waist and rolls her onto the ground beside him. He doesn’t let go of her waist as he stares at her, happy to be in this moment.

  For once, Sadie remains quiet. It’s completely out of character for her and yet it seems perfect. “Cat got your tongue?” He teases.

  He never realized how beautiful her lips are when she smiles. They are lush, full and insanely kissable. He clears his throat, his palms growing clammy as he looks away.

  “What?” she asks, her voice hardly above a whisper. Her tone is deeper than usual, taking on a rougher quality.

  “It’s nothing.” He rolls onto his back, choosing to stare up into the overcast sky instead of the depths of her eyes. He can see emotion there he’s not sure he’s ready to acknowledge. He knows that she likes him, that much is obvious to everyone at the compound. But there is something more between them, something he feels could be far more permanent if he allowed it to be.

  “What are you thinking?” She rolls onto her side to stare at his profile. He stares resolutely at the low hanging clouds above, desperate to think about the coming storm instead of the conflicting emotions stirring in his chest.

  Tucking his hands behind his head, he ignores the cold soaking through his layers. Leather is a great insulator, but the temperatures are dropping rapidly. They can’t stay out much longer, but he hates being confined indoors all the time.

  “What am I?”

  She blinks, rising up on her elbow to look at him. She rests her cheek in the palm of her hand as she looks down at him. “A hunter.”

  He nods, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “And what are you?”

  “I’m Sadie.”

  He sighs, turning to look at her full on. “You know what I mean.”

  “Of course I do, but I don’t see how it matters. I’m still the girl you knew back in Chicago. Nothing has changed.”

  Nicolae pushes off the ground, drawing his knees inward. He clasps his hands around his calves. “Everything has changed. Sorin is gone and the leadership of the hunters falls to me. There are certain responsibilities and expectations that I have to fulfill now.”

  Her eyebrows dip into a deep frown. “Is this your way of blowing me off? Because if it is, it’s the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard.”

  She starts to rise, but Nicolae pulls her back. “You know I like you.”

  “Urgh,” she rolls her eyes, wrenching out of his grasp. “Seriously? Do me a favor and save me from the ‘friend’ speech. I’ve heard it.”

  She shoves his hand off and lurches to her feet. The ice cracks around her feet as she stomps over to her sword, her hair whipping wildly in the rising winds. Tears roll down her cheeks as she dips low to retrieve her weapon.

  Nicolae is on his feet before he even knows that he’s on the move. He grabs her hand, taking on the weight of her weapon. He is insane to do this, to risk giving her the advantage when she is so emotional, but he can’t let her leave, not like this.

  “It’s just not that easy for me, Sadie.” His protests sound pathetic even to him. He tightens his grip on her hand and slowly turns her toward him.

  “I’m crazy about you,” he says, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Something flashes in her eyes but she quickly squelches it back down. “All I’m asking for is time. Things are vola
tile right now. We’ve got more hunters coming in tonight, and I can’t risk one of them challenging you because of me.”

  “You don’t think I could take them?” She huffs indignantly.

  “You can hold your own, but they aren’t me. Please, listen to me. My men are very protective of their way of life. You defy everything they believe in and what I believed in.”

  “So now I’m an abomination?” Her voice grows shrill as she yanks at his firm grip. He is strong, but she is far stronger. She shoves at his chest, knocking him backward into the snow.

  Her cheeks glisten with tear tracks as she sheathes her blade at her waist. “Just stay away from me, Nicolae.”

  She turns and stomps toward the compound door, slamming it behind her. Nicolae throws himself back into the snow, hating himself for upsetting her.

  Why can’t she understand? How is he supposed to choose between family and love when the two sides are beginning to dangerously blend together?

  Footsteps from the north catch his attention. Nicolae sits up, squinting against the twilight sky.

  “You sure handled that well,” Fane says, offering Nicolae a hand. Fane’s blond hair flaps behind him. His cheeks pale yet void of any signs of chill.

  Nicolae grasps Fane’s hand and hauls himself upright. “I had no choice.”

  “Of course you did.” Fane releases his grip on Nicolae and steps back. “Do you think my relationship with Roseline was easy? Vladimir would have had my head, and hers as well, if he’d discovered us.”

  “So then why did you do it? Why take the risk?”

  A gentle smile softens the hard planes of Fane’s face as he turns toward Nicolae. “Because she was worth it.”

  ***

  Malachi emerges from the tunnel before Roseline, poking his head up through a rickety wooden trapdoor that was previously concealed with heavy, damp sod. A light freezing mist hangs in the air as he helps Roseline through the opening. The moist ground soaks through her ragged clothes as she struggles to crawl out of the tunnel.

  When she stands, she squints to see through the dark of night. Low clouds hang over the city beyond. A bed of fog lies over London, creating halos around the lights. A small suburb spreads out below them with empty, winding streets. She doesn’t know its name, but judging by the sounds of the approaching train, it must be one of the main line stops.

  “It will be dawn soon. We need to move.” Roseline says.

  Malachi nods in agreement, and then he turns and sweeps her up into his arms. She begins to protest but his grip tightens. “You aren’t strong enough or fast enough to get us into London before the sun rises. Like it or not, you need me.”

  Roseline fumes silently, loathing the fact that he is right. The underground trek has worn through her energy reserves. The poison has begun to burn through again, at a much faster rate than before. She is losing this battle and is terrified that it is only a matter of time before she stops caring.

  As Malachi slips through the shadows of the town, the strange voices return. Slowly at first, and then more pronounced, increasing in volume. She swats her hands at them, frowning at their presence. Malachi casts worried glances down at her from time to time, picking up speed the closer they draw to London.

  She hardly remembers the final hour of their journey. With the sun cresting over the horizon and cars pouring into the city, Malachi works hard to keep their presence undetected.

  “Finally,” he grunts as he rounds the corner of a seedy looking street. Roseline blinks to clear her vision, forcing herself to focus.

  She blinks again. “You brought me to Torrent? Are you insane?”

  “No.” He sets her onto her feet and pounds on the door. “Just wait.”

  Several minutes pass before she hears the sound of someone approaching. She wavers on her feet, leaning heavily against Malachi’s side to remain upright. When the door swings open, she is hardly standing at all.

  The man stands as broad as a bull, with a silver ring thrust through his nose. He casts a despairing glance at Roseline’s bowed form. “Piss off, Malachi. I’m not taking in another one of your junkies.”

  Malachi bares his teeth and winds his fingers through Roseline’s hair, lifting her face. The man’s gaze hardens and he stands straighter. “Of course. Bring her in.”

  He sucks in his paunch as Malachi lifts her into his arms and carries her into the dark. It is blissfully cold inside. Roseline’s skin is shiny with sweat. Her head lolls against Malachi’s arm as he rushes down the hall, taking the stairs in a single leap. He lands on two feet, as silent as a whisper.

  The red door looms ahead. He hardly slows as he kicks through and carries her into the bar. She opens her eyes, staring blurrily at the empty room about her. It feels odd to not have the eardrum shattering music blaring in the background. The cages are empty and vacant of their human fountains.

  The bar is clean. Each stool is propped up on the table, waiting for that night’s patrons to arrive. The shifting blue light of the bar is off, leaving behind only the thick slab of dark ice.

  “Through there,” the bouncer grunts, motioning Malachi to a room at the back of the bar.

  Malachi turns, carefully lifting her over the bar top to fit through the narrow gap between it and the wall, and hurries beyond the taps and into the dark room beyond.

  Roseline can smell the heady scent of human blood more strongly here. The soft chatter of female voices instantly cut off as Malachi pushes through a door. They enter into a room filled with cages, each lined along either side of the wall, like a kennel.

  Frail girls cling to the bars, their clothes in no better shape than her own. Their eyes are glossed with fear and their fingers tremble against their cages. Malachi moves past with hardly a glance. Roseline rolls her head back to stare at the girls, suddenly struck with a desire to help free them. She vows that someday she will.

  Malachi curls Roseline into his chest to keep her from hitting against the doorframe as he rounds the corner and heads for the staircase at the back. He climbs three flights and pauses to kick through a closed door at the top of the landing.

  Roseline flinches away from the sunlight streaming in through small holes of the grimy apartment window. Malachi crosses the room and gently sets her down on a dingy brown couch. It smells of mold and mothballs. She stills her lungs as she pushes up against the fabric to sit. Her gaze rises to glare at the hulking man filling the doorway. Although large enough to scare any human who foolishly attempts to push their way into the club, Roseline knows him to be a pushover.

  “What are you looking at, Castor?” she growls.

  He stiffens, darting a worried glance at Malachi. “Why is she here? She’s supposed to be at your place.”

  “Plans changed.” Malachi shrugs indifferently as he stoops low to ease Roseline’s legs onto the couch. She fights the urge to recoil from his touch. “I felt it would be safer to keep her here.”

  She can tell the man doesn’t agree but he lets it slide, obviously deciding Malachi is more in the know. “The loo is in the back but it’s shot. Radiator is crap, not that you’re gonna care about that. Fridge is shoddy but should have something in it. I think I left some packets of AB in there for a rainy day.”

  “Thank you.” Malachi doesn’t turn to usher the man out, but the sharp edge to his voice leaves little doubt that the conversation is over. Castor hesitates one final moment, his gaze flickering over Roseline before disappearing back down the stairs.

  She waits until she hears him clomping past the cages before she speaks. “What is this place?”

  “It’s a safe house. When people get into trouble they come here to hide.”

  He rises and walks into the kitchenette, dipping low to look into the small fridge. He grunts with disgust when he pulls out a half empty blood packet. “Disgusting.”

  Roseline’s stomach growls loudly and he casts a pointed glance in her direction. She stares back, unashamed. That fact should worry her. She shouldn’t be craving b
lood, especially human blood, but her body speaks for itself.

  Malachi’s boots shuffle along the hardwood floor. He pauses before the stained sink and tips the blood down the drain. A beetle skitters out of the rusted piping and across the yellowed laminate countertop before disappearing into the coils of the rusted stove.

  Roseline closes her eyes and presses her hands against her stomach. Although her thirst may have waned slightly, her need has not. The pain is returning with a vengeance. How long will she be able to withstand it this time?

  “I’ll have the girls moved further away from your room,” Malachi mutters, as if checking off a to-do list. “You should probably get cleaned up. I’ll find something decent for you to change into.”

  The thought of being clean is enough to get her moving. She stumbles away from the couch, refusing Malachi’s aid as she reaches out for the wall with shaking hands. Her legs are weak and her head is spinning.

  She can feel the delirium returning.

  “The shower doesn’t work,” Malachi calls from behind her.

  “Figures,” she mutters as she uses the wall to keep her upright.

  The floral wallpaper is horrid, peeling off like dead skin on a snake. The sticky texture makes her nauseous but she pushes on, trying not to think of what coats it.

  Cracked bits of porcelain slice through the soles of her feet as she nears the bathroom. The once powder blue tile has been mutilated in places, leaving only a fine dust behind. Large shards of glass from the window over the shower litter the floor and tub. She winces as she steps into the confining room, feeling several splinters from the mirror bury deep into her heel.

  Blood squashes out from around her wounds as she leans heavily on the sink. The aged grime cracks beneath her grip, pattering in chunks onto the porcelain sink basin. The mirror is mostly gone, cracked and littering the floor, but a few large chunks remain.

  She leans forward, staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are sunken and her cheeks waxed. Dark circles ring her eyes and her lips are nearly transparent. Her right shoulder sticks out of her threadbare dress, revealing nothing but pale skin stretched taut over bone. The dip in her collarbone is pronounced and her shoulder blades are jutting out of her back.