Redemption, Book III of the Arotas Trilogy

by Miles, Amy

  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.

  Roseline closes her eyes, fighting against the tears that threaten to fall. She is literally wasting away. Will there even be anything left for Gabriel to find when he does come for her?

  It’s a struggle to unstick the faucet because the corrosion is extensive. Gritting her teeth, Roseline yanks against the knob until it releases with a squeal. The piping in the wall shifts and thunks loudly.

  She can hear gurgling as the water winds its way toward the third floor. She waits, leaning heavily against the medicine cabinet on the wall for support. Brown bubbles splatter from the faucet first but is eventually followed by a small trickle of dark sludge.

  Tears slip from Roseline’s eyes as she silently begs for clean water. When the water begins to shift from dark brown to something resembling clear, she cups her hands beneath the tap and brings them to her lips. The metallic taste is horrible but she gulps it down all the same.

  Roseline wriggles out of her clothes, gasping as each muscle group threatens to lock down on her. Finally, she drops the cloth to the floor and gingerly steps on it, leaving bloody footprints.

  A growl rumbles from her stomach, echoing off the tiled walls in the small space. She lifts her face, observing the hollow of her neck as she wipes a handful of water over her skin. Discolored water drips back into the basin as she washes away weeks of filth.

  She takes her time, bathing each part of her body with more care than she has energy to spend. Her entire body trembles as she slowly works her way down her stomach and legs, scraping off the sludge from Lucien’s pit. Some of her wounds have scabbed over while others look angry and swollen with infection.

  The cold water only eases the burning of her skin temporarily. Her temperature continues to climb and her thoughts become as fractured as the mirror before her.

  It’s hard to think or focus on anything beyond the feel of the water against her skin. She closes her eyes, savoring the feel of the droplets inching down her waist and onto her hip.

  A bold scent hits her. Her eyes pop open as she bares her teeth and spins around to find a gawking Malachi standing in the doorway.

  “I uh…I didn’t mean to stare.”

  A growl rolls deep in her chest, rising into her throat as her fingers curl into claws. She doesn’t see him. Her other senses are dulled by his scent.

  Mouthwatering. Maddening. Irresistible.

  Roseline lets out a blood-curdling shriek and launches herself at him.

  ***

  Fane watches Sadie and Nicolae from a distance. The strain on their relationship hasn’t gone unnoticed. William has begun to spend far more time at Sadie’s side, trying to cheer her up but each time fails miserably. Nicolae huddles with his men at mealtimes, somber and silent unless spoken to, and even then he only answers in short bursts of emotionless conversation.

  Grigori meets Fane’s gaze from across the meal hall. Fane mirrors his concern.

  Fifteen more immortals arrived today and none of them appear to be very happy with the living arrangements. Although Fane has done his best to keep the two groups separated, space is limited in the compound and a couple of the new arrivals are bunking next door to Enoch and Theus. Already, Fane has had to break up one minor scuffle. They might not be so lucky the next time around.

  Grigori jerks his head toward the door. Fane nods and gathers his metal bowl, still nearly full with the soup Claudia prepared for the group. He doesn’t have the stomach for food. There is too much on his mind.

  Between the ongoing stress at the compound, the rise in global killings and his ever growing fear for Roseline’s safety, his patience has grown dangerously thin. One more outburst from the hunter’s table and he might be the next one to snap.

  “Where are you going?” William asks as Fane rises. He can tell the boy doesn’t want to be left alone with his sister. Glancing over at the unshed tears dampening her lower lashes, he doesn’t blame him. “I have things to attend to. I will return when I can.”

  His words are abrupt and straight to the point. As William’s face returns to its sullen expression, Fane feels a pinch of regret. It must be hard being the only true human in the room. The hunters don’t count. They are lethal, highly trained warriors. William is just a high school runaway whose addiction to TV and girls is sorely lost in the arctic.

  Perhaps he should speak with Claudia. She certainly seemed to have a soft spot for the boy. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have her distract him long enough for them to prepare for battle, hopefully without getting him maimed or killed. She would certainly be a better option for him than Daelyn. Her flirting has crushed more hearts over the years than he cares to count.

  Nicolae hardly notices when Grigori stands beside him and exits the room. Fane frowns, annoyed with the boy’s lack of action. Nicolae either needs to let Sadie go or yank her into the armory and bar the door for an hour.

  Fane slips out of the room, careful to close the door softly behind him. Grigori waits further down the passage, just outside the arch of the flickering hall light. “Something on your mind?”

  Grigori nods and motions for Fane to follow him, and they walk in silence. Grigori passes a series of small square rooms with cots lining the walls. This is the hunter’s section of the compound. Fane frowns as they move beyond, toward the main meeting room.

  Grigori holds the door open for Fane, who passes him and perches on the edge of the long rectangular table. “This seems a bit private.”

  “I thought you might prefer the seclusion, considering what I have to say.” Grigori seals the door behind him and moves around to the other side of the table. He draws back a chair and motions for Fane to sit as well.

  Fane’s frown deepens as he sinks down onto the hard metal chair. “If this is about Nicolae and Sadie, I want no part of it. I’ve already given him my advice. If he chooses to take it, so be it.”

  Grigori waves him off. He leans forward, steepling his fingers before him. “This is about Roseline.”

  Goosebumps race along Fane’s bare arms, chilling him far more than the winds that beat against the compound. “What about her?”

  “We found her. I received word just before dinner. I wanted confirmation before I said anything to you.”

  Fane’s hands clench the table’s edge. The metal groans in protest as it begins to mold to his fingers. “Where is she?”

  “London. Torrent actually.”

  He blinks, struggling to process the information. “That doesn’t make any sense. She would never go there. Not on purpose.”

  “There is more…”

  Fane holds his breath as Grigori leans back in his chair. He stares hard at Fane, no doubt weighing how much this information might cost him
. “She’s in bad shape. My informant said she arrived at his door looking like a cat dragged backward through a meat grinder.

  He pause, rubbing his hand down his arm. Fane can tell his news bothers him. “There was a guy with her too.”

  A tremor begins to build in Fane’s chest. “Malachi?”

  Grigori nods. “We’ve been chasing him for years. He’s a slippery one, always managing to sneak away at the last moment. I’d like nothing more than to get my hands on him.”

  “There won’t be much left of him after I catch him,” Fane growls. His lips peel back as he bares his teeth.

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” Grigori smiles.

  Fane starts to rise, conscious only of the need to get to Roseline, but Grigori holds up his hand. “There’s more that you need to hear.”

  Fane sinks down, reluctant to waste any more time. “My informant says someone is looking for her. He’s paying top dollar for anyone who finds her.”

  “Who?”

  Grigori levels Fane with an even stare. “Lucien.”

  Fane flinches. His stomach twists as he shakes his head. “So it is true? I had hoped Sadie was wrong.”

  Grigori nods. “As did we, but it has been confirmed.”

  “It won’t take Lucien long to track her down.” Fane lurches to his feet, staggering as he begins to pace. “I have to go after her.”

  “She isn’t the same girl you knew, Fane.”

  He looks up, his chest feeling empty of all but rage. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s changing. I don’t know into what, but it’s not pretty. My informant said it looks like she is starting to grow…scales.”

  “Oh, god.” Fane leans to the side, clutching his stomach as it rolls violently. He feels faint and feverish at the same time. Color drains from his hands as he pushes himself back upright, wiping his mouth to try to ease the foul taste within.

  “Is Lucien definitely behind the attacks?”

  Grigori nods. “We believe so. My men are already searching for him. They think he is based out of London.”

  “How do you know that?”

  The hunter grimaces as he drops his gaze. “Because there is no way Roseline could have survived a long trip.”

  Fane sucks in a deep breath, fighting for a calm he fears he will never feel again. “I’m going after her.”

  Grigori stands. “My men need to be here. I’m afraid I can’t offer you any assistance.”

  “I understand. I appreciate you telling me this more than you know.” He manages a weak smile. “I will take Nicolae with me.”

  “No.” Grigori holds out his hand. “I think that would be unwise right now. In your absence it might be…difficult to keep everyone in line. Nicolae may be young, but the hunters respect his birthright. If both of you leave, I don’t know what might happen here.”

  “Sadie is too vulnerable. I can’t take her with me.” Fane frowns, hearing the truth in the man’s words. He straightens his shoulders, making a decision. “I will go on my own.”

  The hunter smiles as he rounds the table. It’s a tight smile, but present none the less. When he holds out his hand, Fane hesitates. “Go on. It’s not going to bite.”

  Fane smirks as he clasps Grigori’s hand. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Me either. Maybe Nicolae’s idea of truce really isn’t so crazy after all.”

  Nineteen

  As William cowers behind him, Fane second guesses himself for the millionth time as to how Sadie managed to talk him into bringing her brother along. William is the last person who should be going into Torrent.

  When he hears the clomping of heavy footfalls approaching the exterior door, he places a warning hand on William’s arm. “Don’t say a word.”

  William nods, swallowing loudly. Fane stifles another sigh. This is going to be a disaster.

  The door swings open to reveal a hulking bouncer. The man’s tattoos and bull nose ring are a dead giveaway. “Remember me?”

  The immortal nods, unconsciously rubbing his nose ring, just in case Fane might decide to rough him up again. “You came for the girl?”

  Fane hesitates for only a second before nodding. How did Castor know why he was here? Is the bouncer the informant?

  “Follow me.” Castor turns and heads back into the dark, leaving the door wide open. Fane’s brow furrows at the blatant lapse in security. Even though the club won’t be open for a couple more hours, Torrent is never left open to the public.

  He casts a warning glance back over his shoulder at William and grabs his arm to lead him in. The door squeals on its hinges, slamming shut behind them. William yelps, shaking with nervousness.

  “You’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Fane is not sure if his words reassure the boy, but William says nothing further. Fane isn’t here to babysit. He’s here for Roseline.

  The darkness seems to stretch on for an eternity before they finally reach the glowing red light above the door. The familiar scent of stale blood and body odor greets him as he sweeps into the bar. William stumbles over the threshold, too busy trying to take it all in to notice the steps ahead of him.

  The bouncer turns and rolls his eyes at William. Fane offers him a tight smile in understanding. “Where is she?”

  “Up the stairs.” The guy points behind the bar, but instead of showing them the way, he leans back against a high top table and lights up a cigarette. His hands visibly shake as he takes a puff. Fane’s gaze narrows.

  “Something the matter?”

  “Go up and look for yourself. Never seen anything like it.” His voice quakes as he takes another drag. He reaches out, shaking his finger at Fane. “I hope you’re good for the money. My boss won’t take kindly to paying for the damages.”

  Fane turns to look back over his shoulder at the bouncer. “You know who she is, right?”

  “Yep, but rumor has it Vladimir is gone now. Seems to me the one to be worrying about is Lucien.”

  The man’s bald head is slick with sweat and his eyes are dilated with fear. The only problem is, he isn’t afraid of Fane. “Lucien’s back from the dead, man. Haven’t you heard? He’s running things now, and that pretty little thing up there is his pet. No one is allowed to touch her.” He eyes Fane with open suspicion. “Aren’t you one of his guys?”

  “No.” Fane points at William. “Anything happens to him while I’m gone and I’ll gut you myself. Nice and slow. Understand?”

  “Course.” The beefy immortal rubs the front of his shirt, obviously annoyed. “Wouldn’t touch him, mate.”

  “Good.” Fane moves back toward William and leans in close. “You get into any trouble, you shout for me.”

  “You’re leaving me here?” William’s voice sounds small and squeaky. His eyes are wide with unrestrained fright.

  “Our friend here is going to watch over you for a bit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Without waiting to hear William’s protest, he turns and heads into the back room. He hardly notices the gaunt girls lying on the floor of rows of cages. Their scent does nothing for him.

  When he reaches the bottom the stairs, he pauses to listen. There is no sound above him. This worries him.

  Obviously the bouncer is worried about something. Despite the man’s large size, he didn’t get the job by chance. He knows how to hold his own against drunken immortals. Fane is sure he has seen his fair share of ugly scenes.

  Whatever is at the top of the stairs must be horrible.

  Fane climbs silently and quickly. He pauses just outside the door, pressing his ear against the wood. His hearing is excellent, a fact he usually brags about, but today it fails him. There is nothing but complete silence on the other side of the door.

  “Roseline?”

  His call is met by a small scuffling sound. His fingers curl around the door handle and he slowly turns it. Just as he begins to open the door, something big and solid slams against it. Fane rears back, st
artled. He reaches out for the banister to steady himself.

  “It’s me, Fane. Can I come in?”

  A second bang against the door. This time it sounds less solid and more…wet.

  Fane flings open the door and ducks as a mass of red meat flies across the room at him, smacking against the wall behind him. Fane’s eyes widen with surprise when he turns to see part of a large intestine sliding down the wall.

  “What the”

  Something cold and moist slams into his chest. He coughs, gagging on the putrid scent of rotting flesh. When he looks up, he finds Roseline crouching across the room, her crazed eyes narrowed on him.

  She is covered in crimson. It looks as if she’d actually gone swimming in a pool of thick, oozing blood. Her hair is plastered to her scalp and her naked body is coated in flaking bits of dried blood.

  “Oh god,” he gasps, taking in the hunch of her shoulders as she leans over her prey.

  The body is mangled beyond recognition. The face has been gnawed off completely. Severed limbs encircle Roseline, each cleanly cut away from the torso. Fane can see one hand on the sofa, a foot tossed against the window just above the sink.

  Streaks of blood are splashed across the walls. It looks like a gusher left a wide stain on the ceiling overhead. The carpet has soaked up much of the blood from the body. There is a trail leading down the hall and around the corner. She obviously drug the body out here.

  “What have you done?” He steps into the room, completely numb.

  Roseline grunts at him and plunges her hands back into the meaty flesh. A squelching sound turns his stomach as she lifts something that looks disturbingly like a kidney. He raises his hands. “Now, I know what you’re thinking and that’s a bad idea.”

  He ducks just before the object soars over his head. Fane’s right knee buckles as he rolls to the side, coming up just beside the sofa. Roseline stares at him through her matted hair, her gaze cold and unseeing.

  “Do you know me?”

  No sign of recognition. A low growl begins in her chest and rises to her throat as he moves along the length of the couch.