Blood Seeker

by Lexi C. Foss

  Nothing.

  Were her visions even working? Was this all just a trick of the mind established by those meant to guide her through the reformation? What if this was a test? Was she failing even now?

  She mentally touched the loop once more, seeking the memory from the day of her drowning. The blurs were too fast, imperceptible.

  It was a risk.

  But she needed them to see.

  Rightness settled over her, a subtle shift that almost bled warmth into her forever frozen state. A trick of the mind? Another experiment?

  If she didn’t pass, they would just start over.

  If she didn’t try, she might never escape.

  Sacrifice wasn’t new to her. She could withstand more pain if it provided her with a chance.

  She slipped deeper into the memory loop, careful to avoid detection by the one who had created it, and entered the mental maze deep inside.

  This cycle fed into a link somewhere. And that connection was her key to survival.

  She had to warn them.

  Before it was too late.

  “Osiris released Skye from his compulsion as a gift?” Astasiya looked as incredulous as she sounded. “For me?”

  Sethios dipped his chin in confirmation. “Gabriel convinced him that you required a sign of good faith in order to consider working with him.”

  “I will never work with him,” she replied immediately.

  “Obviously,” Gabriel said from the recliner chair in his great room. He had his eyes closed and one ankle crossed over his opposite knee, the picture of ease. The rising sun outside indicated the very early hour, confirming yet another sleepless night for all of them.

  “Osiris doesn’t know you or your resolve,” Sethios added when the Seraphim in the chair remained stoic and silent. “Your brother played on that because, I believe, he wanted Osiris to provide us with your mother’s current location. But he gave us Skye instead.”

  “So he thinks by undoing one evil thing, I’ll forgive him?”

  “My father is a master strategist. Therefore, I suspect he also removed his compulsion for a self-serving reason.” Something that his comment regarding it being a practical course had indicated. “He stated we needed her more than he did, suggesting he intends for her to deliver some sort of prophecy that will likely put us right in his path.”

  Astasiya visibly shivered. “No, thank you.”

  Issac wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him on the couch. It was such a natural move, one she accepted with trust and an open heart. While the thought of her having a mate irked Sethios to no end, every moment in their presence indicated the strength of their connection.

  Rather than comment on it—or break Issac’s arm—Sethios took the chair across from Gabriel, leaving the lovebirds on the couch. “Have you heard from Leela yet?”

  “No.”

  “That’s troubling.”

  Gabriel lifted a shoulder, his version of disagreeing, apparently. “According to Owen, she’s with Jayson, Balthazar, and Elizabeth.”

  “And where’s Vera?” Sethios pressed.

  “That one is more troubling,” Gabriel murmured, finally opening his eyes. “My alert goes to her as well, and she’s neither here nor in Hydria.”

  Sethios considered that. While they’d charged Leela with monitoring the council, Vera possessed the same insight.

  “You mentioned when you returned that it’s possible Caro’s mother—Astasiya’s grandmother—might have found her.” Issac glanced first at Sethios, then at Gabriel. “How are Leela and Vera related?”

  “Leela was supposed to monitor the council’s decisions,” Sethios replied. “It was her job to warn Gabriel of any sign that they’d chosen to awaken Caro’s mother.”

  “Awaken?” Astasiya repeated.

  Right. She was probably not aware of the Seraphim penchant for taking century-long naps. Sethios hadn’t known about it either until Caro had explained it all to him. “How much do you know about the Seraphim?” he asked, curious as to where they needed to start this discussion. “Are you aware of their political structure?”

  “We haven’t reached that part of her education yet,” Gabriel put in.

  “Yes, because someone spent the last eighteen years of my life fucking with my head,” she shot right back.

  Gabriel rolled his eyes, an action that would have entertained Sethios on a normal day.

  Alas, today was not a normal day.

  So he ignored the show of annoyance and focused on his daughter instead. “The High Council of Seraph is the governing body of the Seraphim. They issue edicts and rely heavily on the Fates to guide them in those decisions. That’s actually how your mother and I met—she was sent to deliver an edict to Osiris.”

  His lips threatened to curl at the memory of that night. He’d seen her pretty blue wings glowing from across the Arcadia nightclub and sauntered over for a chat. She’d been the opposite of amused by his interest. Then he’d persuaded her to remain silent and still when his father had approached—an act that had saved her life—and she’d threatened to kill him soon after.

  It’d been lust at first sight for Sethios.

  The feisty little angel and her penchant for blades.

  Fuck, how he missed that night. How he missed her.

  But that wasn’t the topic at hand. He needed their daughter to understand the history to be able to work through the present.

  So he told her everything he knew, including how the council members were all the oldest and most powerful of Seraphim kind. How each councilman or councilwoman was the head of their proverbial bloodline, and each line possessed a power or trait.

  For Caro, she came from the messenger line, her natural gifts allowing her to conceal her whereabouts. She also inherited a healing ability from her mother, but it remained dormant inside of Caro. At least for now. The Fates had said she would need it one day; however, that day had not yet come to fruition.

  Gabriel’s father, Adriel, was the leader of the warrior line, which had Astasiya snorting, “Of course he is,” in the middle of Sethios’s lecture.

  After he detailed the structure of the family lines, he went into the society operations and how Seraphim governed themselves. “The council is in charge of every decision,” he told her. “So if your grandmother was pulled out of her sleep, it was under their authority. And it would have been with the purpose of finding your mother.”

  “She was the only one who could do it, other than you, me, and Sethios,” Gabriel added then. “I thought I couldn’t locate her because she was underground—sort of like when Issac buried you. I couldn’t sense your location at all when I should have been able to.”

  “So it’s entirely possible that she’s still drowning,” Issac replied.

  “Yes,” Gabriel agreed. “Except there are other signs we need to consider, such as Sethios not being able to sense her. When you bonded with Astasiya, I warned you that if anything like that ever happened to her, you’d be in constant agony as a result.” He gestured at Sethios. “He’s decidedly not.”

  “I used to be,” Sethios said, thinking back on his captivity. “There were several times that I felt Caro die, never understanding who she was or why I experienced the death with her. But it subsided shortly after Osiris’s compulsion took over.” He frowned. “There were moments here and there where I experienced her pain, but it wasn’t consistent. Now it’s like she’s not even here.”

  He recalled the first time Caro had died, how excruciating it had been to not understand why he felt as though he were drowning on land. The ache in his chest had nearly undone him, the anguish crippling his soul. Only it all disappeared a breath later, then repeated several more times that day until his father had arrived and silenced him with a command.

  How long had that gone on? The hours or days of dying on repeat and being unable to scream or move?

  He blinked. When had it all stopped? Had Osiris compelled it out of him due to boredom? Or had it b
een something else entirely?

  “I thought you heard from Caro daily?” Issac asked, his focus on Gabriel. “Isn’t that what you said when you arrived in Hydria? Something about your headache?”

  “Her visions haunt me, yes,” Gabriel replied. “But that’s more metaphorical. I don’t actually hear or see her, but I dream of her drowning every time I sleep. It’s vivid, yet always the same. Which is why I want to fully evaluate them now, to see if it’s a looping memory or not. I want to evaluate Stas’s dreams, too.”

  “Mine are always different,” she replied, frowning. “They usually tie into something else. Like after the Conclave I attended, the drowning vision morphed into him torturing me like Sierra.”

  “Who’s Sierra?” Sethios asked. He didn’t recognize the name.

  “An Ichorian who found me in New York City and didn’t give me up to Osiris,” Owen explained as he entered the room and collapsed onto the couch beside Astasiya and Issac. “It’s my understanding that he made a show of her disobedience.” The words were flat, yet regret touched his dark features.

  Sethios imagined the female had suffered greatly, especially if she was the star of the Conclave that night. “And you witnessed this show?” he asked his daughter.

  “Yeah.” She visibly swallowed. “That was my introduction to Ichorian life.”

  Right. Grand introduction, indeed. He narrowed his gaze at the Ichorian beside her. “You took her to a fucking Conclave?”

  The male snorted. “Not by bloody choice.”

  “One doesn’t just accidentally attend a Conclave, Issac.”

  “I never claimed it was an accident. I stated it wasn’t by choice.”

  “Elaborate,” Sethios demanded, ready to wring the male’s neck for endangering his daughter in such a way.

  “Tom told her about the Arcadia,” Gabriel replied before Issac had a chance. “He thought it would be a good way to show her Issac’s true nature. He didn’t realize it was the night of a Conclave.”

  “If you’d like to kill him for it, I’ll happily watch,” Issac said, his own fury over the experience palpable and somewhat cooling Sethios’s mounting ire.

  “Look, I’m fine. I didn’t die. Can we focus on Mom now?”

  “No, I have another question,” Sethios interjected. “Who the fuck is Tom?”

  “Jonathan Fitzgerald’s son.” Gabriel shifted, lowering one foot to the ground and lifting his other ankle to rest against the opposite knee. “He’s a Hydraian, and valuable. You can’t kill him.” He looked pointedly at Issac. “It would greatly upset Amelia.”

  “Bollocks,” the male muttered in reply.

  “Seriously, none of this matters. You said Mom might be in a memory loop. I want to know what that means, how it works, and what to do if it’s true.” Astasiya’s tone resembled Caro’s no-nonsense voice, the kind she used when reprimanding without much emotion. It caused Sethios’s heart to pang softly, his concern regarding the Conclave vanishing in an instant.

  His daughter was right—they had more important matters to discuss.

  “Show Issac your dreams, Gabriel. Then he can play them for all of us, and we can search for loops. Astasiya can do the same. Then I’ll offer what little I can. We’ll see if your theory checks out.”

  Gabriel nodded, the practical course one he would obviously favor.

  Issac visibly flinched, the Seraphim already unloading his thoughts without another word.

  Sethios glanced at his daughter, catching the worry in her expression. He decided to distract her by answering one of her comments.

  “As you know, Vera can manipulate and change memories. But she’s not the only one with that gift. If your mother has in fact been taken by the Seraphim, it’s possible they’ve been trying to rehabilitate her, and during that process, they may have put her memories on a loop.”

  “But why would they do that?”

  “To ensure those connected to her didn’t sense the change in her location,” Sethios replied. “Unfortunately, if this is true, it implies Gabriel is no longer within their circle of trust.”

  “It also implies they know about my fealty pledge to Astasiya, something they’ve not indicated in any disciplinary hearings yet.” The Seraphim spoke without taking his gaze away from Issac. “However, if we’re right about this, then we’re being monitored. Which means we’re not safe here.”

  “Jesus, slow down,” Issac said, sounding breathless. “You’re quite literally drowning me in details.”

  “Work faster.”

  Issac’s eyes narrowed, and the Seraphim suddenly choked. “Fast enough for you, mate?”

  Gabriel coughed and sputtered as though he were drowning himself while power poured off of Issac, his expression one of astute concentration.

  “That’s a very useful ability,” Sethios mused.

  “Indeed,” he returned. “And I can already tell this is a manipulated loop. Her movements are restricted.”

  “She’s tied to a chair,” Gabriel pointed out, his voice hoarse.

  “That’s not what I mean. Look. Watch her eyes and mouth. They move in the same sequence on repeat.”

  Caro populated Sethios’s mind, so real and tangible and not two feet away from him. He reached for her on instinct, his fingers brushing air. A vision. And a horrid one at that.

  Agony etched a scar into her pretty face, her screams muted yet present in the way her mouth formed wordless sounds. She began to choke, causing his heart to beat faster, his own anguish pouring out of him in waves.

  “No!” He dove toward her, going through her and landing on the floor.

  “Stop!” Astasiya demanded.

  The vision vanished, Caro’s pain disappearing into mist and revealing Gabriel’s great room. Sethios wheezed on the ground, his chest vacant, his heart no longer beating.

  His angel… Oh, fuck…

  He curled into himself, the pain threatening to shred him inside.

  All of Osiris’s tortures combined hadn’t compared to this. Oh, how she’d suffered. He searched for her, his soul in tatters, his blood refusing to flow. Goddammit, Caro. Talk to me! He shouted the command through their bond, his fury a whiplash to his senses. Talk to me now!

  Shh, her voice hushed him in reply. They’ll hear you.

  Sethios froze. Caro? he breathed, worried his mind might be playing a cruel trick on him.

  When she didn’t reply, he growled both through the bond and out loud. If you don’t start talking—

  Stop, she whispered urgently, then he felt her tug on his soul, yanking him closer. An odd sensation, considering he remained in Gabriel’s house. They know you’re here. Oh, Fates! They’re coming. You need to run. Run!

  But it was already too late.

  A Seraphim with translucent gold feathers misted into the room before Sethios could even speak.

  Fuck.

  The world swam around Stas, her vision whirling in a cacophony of colors. One minute, she’d been kneeling on the floor trying to talk to her father, and in the next second, she was flying.

  Not of her own volition. Not with her own wings, either. But a black blur she couldn’t decipher.

  When her feet touched sand, she shoved herself away from a body much larger than her own and froze upon meeting a pair of tired black eyes. The gold flecks of his irises swirled with a touch of insanity, his long, dark hair pulled back into an uncharacteristic ponytail. He was also missing his trademark leather coat.

  “Ezekiel?” It came out as a question. Of course she knew the assassin’s name. She just didn’t understand why he’d—she frowned, taking in her surroundings—yeah, she didn’t understand why he’d taken her to Hydria. “What the hell?”

  “Skye,” he rasped. “She had a vision and I reacted.”

  “A vision? What kind of vision?”

  “One involving golden feathers and your capture,” he explained as Jacque appeared beside them with Luc and Alik on either side. “I need to trace back, but stay here.”

&nbs
p; “What about Issac?”

  “He can handle himself.”

  “And I can’t?” she demanded.

  Silence.

  Because the damn Ichorian was already gone.

  She had half a mind to follow him back to Stark’s house and teach him a lesson, but her intelligent side held her in place.

  If he’d traced her here, it’d been for a reason. One Issac confirmed less than a second later as he murmured, I assume Ezekiel kidnapped you because of the golden-winged Seraphim in Gabriel’s great room?

  He said Skye had a vision of golden feathers and my capture.

  I see, he replied, his English accent thicker inside her thoughts than when he spoke out loud. She rather liked the sexy inflection. Not that now was an optimal time for her to think about it in that manner.

  If Gabriel’s surprised by the intrusion, he’s not showing it, Issac continued. Sethios appears equally unfazed by it. Where did Ezekiel…? Actually, no, never mind. Don’t tell me in case they can locate you through me.

  “Stas?” Luc prompted, his muscular arms folded over his chest. “What’s going on?”

  Jacque had already disappeared, perhaps to Stark’s place to check in on the situation there. Or maybe he’d been called to another part of Hydria. The poor teleporter was constantly working.

  “A Seraphim just arrived at Stark’s place,” Stas said. “Ezekiel traced me here before I could be seen. Or I assume that was the purpose, anyway.”

  “Which Seraphim?” a feminine voice asked as a swirl of purple graced the air. Leela materialized, her blonde hair glowing in the moonlight. It’d just been morning on her side of the world. It seemed to be closer to eight or nine at night here.

  This whole teleporting thing was intense.

  Stas narrowed her eyes at the stunning Seraphim, recalling her father’s commentary with Gabriel regarding Leela’s job to monitor the council. She’d either failed in her task or was playing a dangerous game of double agent.

  The female blinked. “What the hell is that look for?”

  “Is my grandmother awake?” Stas countered.

  Another blink. “I… Your grandmother? Why would she…?” She cocked her head in a decidedly inhuman manner. “Why would you ask me that? What has Sethios found?” Then her eyebrows lifted. “Wait, does he think…? Oh… Oh, no…” She flickered out before she could elaborate, disappearing from view.