Blood Seeker

by Lexi C. Foss

  Her lips pursed as she considered what to do. Then an odd sort of tingling began in her lower leg, a warmth she hadn’t experienced before. She investigated it with her mind, trying to determine the source and its purpose.

  Half a beat later, she gasped. I’m healing myself.

  What do you mean? Sethios asked. What needs to be healed?

  My body. My muscles are all nonexistent from having lain here for... how long was I here?

  It’s been almost eighteen years since Osiris found us, he whispered.

  Oh. That explained her physical condition. Although, she couldn’t remember how or when the Seraphim had found her.

  She wasn’t going to waste precious seconds now trying to recall it. Caro needed to heal and prepare for what came next because the moment they realized she was awake, they would return to subdue her once more, and she needed to be ready.

  How are you healing yourself, angel?

  My dormant power, she breathed. It seems to have finally come to life.

  The one the Fates said you would eventually need?

  Yes. She’d once told him the story about her lineage, how the Fates always chose a pairing based on the potential powers of the progeny. They’d predicted she would one day need to know how to heal. Whether it’d been for this purpose or another remained to be seen.

  Why would they help you when they’re the reason you’re in rehabilitation?

  The council is the reason for my current situation, not the Fates, she replied, her focus divided between speaking and healing. The Fates merely predict. The council chooses what to interpret and how to interpret it.

  She wiggled her toes, the action shooting spikes up her legs and causing her to wince. Not a great sensation, but it implied her gift was working as expected.

  How clever of the Fates to allow her this small defense. Did that mean they favored the outcome of her escape? Were they playing a game of their own?

  Caro’s brow furrowed as she considered what it could mean. They were essentially owned by the council, their hive mind one very few Seraphim were allowed to touch. She’d never considered what that meant for their existence until this very moment. Perhaps they despised the method by which they were used. Yet that would imply some manner of feeling, which didn’t exist within this world.

  Shaking her head, she decided to ponder it another day and put all her mental effort into expediting her healing because the beeps were growing more rapid outside her glass prison.

  She couldn’t see well, the darkness of the room around her glass tomb void of any external lights. However, her enhanced sight allowed her to see just enough in the dark to understand her surroundings.

  It was a smaller room with one door, her pod, a series of machines, and nothing else. Not even a chair.

  She’d never been inside the rehabilitation center, but she imagined this was similar to where the ancients slept. Small, neat quarters with equipment meant to pump nutrients into the body to keep it well nourished.

  What they didn’t do was aid the body in physical recovery. However, that wasn’t really necessary with how quickly Seraphim could regenerate.

  Angel?

  Yes?

  Just making sure you’re still there, Sethios said, his voice oddly relieved.

  Where would I go? she asked him. I’m stuck in a glass pod.

  This is the longest we’ve spoken since Astasiya rescued me.

  Caro paused. Our daughter rescued you? From Osiris? That’d been the expectation all along, but to hear that it’d actually happened sent a spark of life through Caro’s veins. They battled? Did he perish? She frowned then. Did I miss everything?

  You haven’t missed anything, he promised. But yes, they fought. Vera helped. She saved me, and we’ve been trying to figure out how to find you since. We thought you were drowning in the ocean.

  What? Why? I haven’t been in the water for... well, I’m not sure how long, she admitted. I’ll think about it more after I free myself.

  Her mind seemed unable to multitask, perhaps a result of being in stasis for so long. She didn’t feel all that well, her body still mending itself and her mind a swarm of chaotic thoughts and memories that didn’t appear to want to stay put in any sort of logical order.

  Rather than piece it all together, she concentrated on moving her foot. Sharp pricks shot up her lower limbs, rivaling the ones in her arms as she twitched her fingers and hands. Almost there, she thought, her muscles beginning to flex and shift as she rebuilt the ligaments and strengthened her joints.

  Seconds turned into minutes, Sethios’s presence in her mind and heart an anchor that helped her remain conscious.

  Every few beats, he’d say her name, and she’d reply with his own, both of them reminding the other that this was real, that she hadn’t fallen back into that dreadful coma.

  Her throat worked on a hard swallow, her heartbeat a regular cadence in her ears, and that beeping had reached a crescendo.

  No one came, making her wonder how closely the Seraphim monitored her vitals. Perhaps she needed to unplug a few of these cords.

  She considered them as her arms moved inside the tiny box. There was a tube connected to one side that pumped oxygen into the container. She didn’t want to mess with that. She rather liked breathing. A memory told her why, but she shoved it away, not wanting to think about drowning right now.

  Instead, she focused on the electrical wires that seemed to be hooked into her chest and head. Those needed to go regardless, so she might as well undo them.

  She tugged the first one out of her temple and cried out in pain at the metal dislodging from her mind. Sethios’s voice reverberated through her thoughts, his words unintelligible over the agony shooting up and down her spine.

  “Fuzz!” she shouted, her voice a rasp of sound that didn’t match the anguish behind it. Oh, ow, ow, ow.

  Sethios replied, but she couldn’t understand him.

  And oh, she had another one in her other temple.

  Might as well yank it out now and just recover from both.

  She screamed as the needle released her on a violent tug, electricity humming through her skull. Tears streamed from her eyes. Her mouth worked soundlessly over words.

  Agony shredded her in half, but then her new gift kicked in, and a warm sensation stole through her mind, soothing the pain with a kiss of healing heat.

  She wept with gratitude, her body shaking from the onslaught of the unexpected torment. Caro should have anticipated it, but in her haste to escape, she hadn’t considered the repercussions.

  No, not exactly that.

  She had just chosen not to acknowledge them because there was no practical reason to dread them. The needles had to be removed to free herself, consequences be damned.

  After a few soft words to Sethios, promising him she was fine, she started on the other needles lodged in her chest. They all came with their own variety of excruciating results, but nothing compared to the metal probes in her mind. Those were taking the longest to heal, the Seraphim having used advanced technology to quite literally control her brain.

  That explained so much about her lost time.

  Fortunately, they had no harness for her soul. Which was why her spirit had been able to force her into a wakeful state despite the rehabilitating machines attached to her physical form.

  Almost there, she whispered, more to herself than to Sethios.

  Then a burst of light blinded her, the door to her room being thrown open by a Seraphim with a shock of white-blonde hair and startling blue wings.

  Chanara.

  There were so many colors in the coliseum—a fact Gabriel had never noticed until today. He was simply awed by it all, the fluttering of wings a cacophony of sound that he found to be rather pleasing to the ear.

  His lips threatened to curl, his heart warming to the sensation.

  Then the absurdity of the thought kicked him in the gut. He was surrounded by Seraphim, all studying him for a reaction, and he was two sec
onds away from smiling.

  Pull yourself together, he chided himself. Admiring the way the sun plays off all the plumes decorating the open-aired auditorium isn’t practical or useful.

  Except it was rather beautiful.

  Stop it.

  His father cleared his throat from the second row, his red wings tucked behind him in his backless chair.

  In this room, everyone remained ethereal except for the one under scrutiny, which left Gabriel standing alone in the center in his corporeal form while everyone else misted in their seats.

  Hundreds of Seraphim encircled him, all sitting at varying heights in a myriad of rows ringing the auditorium floor. Above him was a pure blue sky. No clouds. Just the sun illuminating the cascading colors of feathers fluttering in the air.

  “Would you like to make a statement, Gabriel?” his father asked by way of beginning the proceedings.

  “I’ll wait until I’ve been formally accused,” he replied in as flat a tone as he could manage. He would prefer to learn what they knew about him first rather than unceremoniously give up information.

  His father nodded, respecting his logical path forward. “Cavalina,” he prompted, waving at the air before them.

  A series of images appeared in a cloud of mist, all projected through the female Seraphim’s violet gaze. She was from the recollection line—a Seraphim family that could collect and retain information and then present it visually before a crowd. The female essentially served as an evidence bank for debates.

  Photos streamed across the room, breaking out into tablet-sized images that flew upward to each council member to roll before their eyes like a floating television screen.

  Gabriel watched the show with a bored expression, not surprised at all that they showcased the Hydraians and Ichorians at his estate. He’d given up trying to hide them all over a week ago. This fate had been inevitable since the day Sethios and Caro met.

  Gabriel hadn’t understood the purpose of her mission, had felt it was dangerous and unproductive, until he’d learned about her pregnancy from the Fates. That was the day his perception of the council shifted. He no longer trusted their guidance, and that, unfortunately, included his own father.

  Osiris had been a problem for millennia. Why send Caro twenty-five years ago to deliver a pointless edict? Because they needed her to create Stas. So why not just tell her that? She was a dutiful Seraphim. She would have played her part without all the lies and deceit.

  Which was how he knew there had to be a missing piece to all of this.

  They wanted to use Stas in some way that Caro never would have agreed to allow, even with her faithful obedience.

  That’d been the reason he’d pledged fealty to his sister, something he had no doubt the council knew now.

  His father would be able to sense it with a simple prod through their bond. But his expression and aura gave nothing away.

  The entire room was eerily silent when it came to emotional reactions. No anger. No disappointment. Just an air of nothingness.

  Seraphim found no cause or logic behind emotions.

  Gabriel had always thought he agreed. However, Clara’s power had awoken him to a new method of understanding, even when it came to evaluating himself.

  He did care to an extent. It was why he’d aligned himself with Stas. Why he’d helped Sethios and Caro twenty-five years ago. Why he tolerated Ezekiel. Why he felt a nagging annoyance earlier when he thought Vera had betrayed them.

  Gabriel felt.

  It wasn’t the same as a human, or anywhere close to the Hydraians, but in his heart, he was intensely loyal to those he considered his.

  His sister.

  His mother.

  His allies.

  They were all under his umbrella of support, and with that came a level of sensation he never truly comprehended until today.

  “Your loyalty is no longer with us,” his father said, his tone robotic. “Where does it lie?”

  “With Seraphim Astasiya,” Gabriel replied, not bothering to hide it. “She required my fealty to survive. I therefore pledged it.”

  Silence.

  The Seraphim weren’t sure how to interpret his response, which he’d anticipated.

  “An unknown power is surfacing. She will possess the strength and will to destroy us all unless certain measures are put in place to curb her inclinations,” he quoted out loud. “I provided some of those measures.”

  “Who delivered that prophecy?” his father asked, his brow slightly crinkling.

  “Prophetess Skye. I believe the ‘us’ applies to the abominations roaming the earth. Therefore, if Astasiya is the one who will finally rid the planet of Osiris’s plague, then she has my loyalty.”

  Whispers broke out around him, but he kept his gaze on his father. It would be Adriel who determined Gabriel’s fate because he was his creator and the oldest of his line. While the council might vote, it was Adriel’s words that mattered most.

  “Is this the prophetess you speak of?” Tulan, the original Seraphim of Darkness, asked.

  He sent one of his rotating images down to Gabriel, the photo one of a dark-haired female with ice-blue eyes being carried by Ezekiel across the beach. The image alone confirmed Gabriel’s property had been under surveillance as early as last week. It was honestly surprising it’d taken them that long to notice the activities at his villa.

  “Yes. That’s Prophetess Skye,” he confirmed. With a flick of his wrist, he returned the image to Tulan, who proceeded to pass it around the room in a series of clicks.

  Louder murmurs broke out through the room.

  Then his father cleared his throat. “Are you aware of who she is?”

  “An Ichorian Osiris has held prisoner for a century,” Gabriel replied.

  “No. She’s a lost Fate,” Tulan corrected him.

  Gabriel’s lips nearly curled down, but he caught them in time to stop the infraction. “She’s not a Seraphim.”

  “Not all Seraphim have wings,” his father said, his expression hardening. “Particularly those who are in exile.”

  That was news to Gabriel. He’d never met a featherless Seraphim. “Osiris has his wings.”

  Tulan clasped his long fingers in his lap, his formal blue robes fluttering around his bare ankles. “Osiris is an original Seraphim. His mist cannot be removed.”

  “Yes. Younger Seraphim are susceptible to the castigation,” Adriel confirmed. “Older Seraphim are not. In Skye’s case, she was of an age where removing her ethereal essence suited the crime.”

  “Why have I never heard of this?” Gabriel asked. And what crime did she commit to earn such a harsh action? he wondered.

  “You haven’t heard of the practice because you’re not privy to council matters,” Tulan replied. “How we punish, and why we punish, are our decisions, not yours.”

  “We are losing sight of our topic,” Silvia stated matter-of-factly. The dark-skinned female craved order in all things as the Seraphim of Justice. “He has pledged allegiance to a young Seraphim. The suitable reprimand is outlawing him from society.”

  “Except he did it to help her remove Osiris and his abominations,” Adriel interjected. “I believe that’s cause for discussion.”

  “He should have brought it to the council before acting cavalierly on his own,” Silvia replied. “That demonstrates a lack of care for our laws and should be handled accordingly.”

  “What if he fixes his pledge?” Tulan inquired, his beady eyes thoughtful.

  “I can’t,” Gabriel replied, not wanting to waste time. “I will not remove or reevaluate my pledge until her birthright is fulfilled.” His wording was precise and adequate and perfectly planned. They would assume he wanted to help her kill Osiris. And that was exactly what he desired them to think.

  “Explain your reasoning,” his father said, playing right into his hand.

  “As I reported several decades ago, Osiris funded the CRF project. That project and its proxy leader, Jonathan Fitzgerald, have of
ficially been dismantled—a task Astasiya helped see to fruition. However, the task before her is far greater, and as a result of her involvement with the CRF, he now knows of her existence.”

  He allowed that information to settle before adding, “She’s going to require all the assistance available to guide her in the prophecy’s path. To withdraw my pledge could be detrimental to the future.”

  More murmurs followed his proclamation, but he kept his focus on Adriel, who continued to give nothing away with his light green eyes.

  The only emotion in the room seemed to come from Gabriel. Either his borrowed empathy was waning, or the Seraphim truly felt nothing about the task or his accomplishments.

  That didn’t surprise him, even though he felt a small twist in his gut at all he’d done for these beings without even an ounce of gratitude.

  “Where is Astasiya?” Tulan asked. “She should have arrived with you, as per the edict.”

  “She declined your invitation for a meeting,” he replied flatly.

  That garnered a bigger reaction from the crowd, in the flavor of gasps and louder whispers.

  His lips threatened to twitch. He swallowed the sensation instead.

  “What do you mean, she ‘declined’ our invitation?” Silvia demanded. “One does not deny an edict.”

  He nearly pointed out that Osiris denied each and every one of their edicts without a single reprimand, other than to let him continue to flourish on Earth and corrupt humanity.

  “She’s a new Seraphim who does not yet understand our ways,” Gabriel replied.

  “Then teach her,” Silvia replied, her tone curt.

  “She will still refuse to adhere to your command,” he promised.

  Silvia’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  Thank you so very much for asking, Seraphim Silvia, he thought, pleased. “Because you have her mother in a rehabilitation chamber.”

  It was fortunate Vera had provided him with the memory of his father’s visit. His plan before had required him to feign confidence. Now there was nothing fake about his proclamation. He knew they had her.

  “While I might agree with the reason behind her mental reprogramming, Astasiya will not,” he continued. “She’s been raised by humans, and her mentality does not align with our way of thought.”