Divine Blood

by Beck Michaels

  “Does it tire you to unveil the map?” he asked as they jumped over the brook.

  “Not at all,” she said even though fatigue had settled on her features. He was not convinced it had anything to do with the hike.

  “If it tires you, stay close to me.” A flush rushed to his face when he realized what he had said. “I mean, stay close to the map. If you should faint, it will delay us further.”

  Dyna stopped walking, and he drew back when his wing brushed against her. He cringed at the sensation zinging through his wingspan. Celestials never allowed others to touch their wings. It was the source of their divinity and might. A point of vulnerability. The only thing that kept them from becoming human.

  Dyna often moved near him, careless or uncaring of subconsciously touching him when he was accustomed to avoidance. No one in Hilos approached him. She didn’t seem to mind him though.

  Cassiel tried to avoid getting too close to her, in any form. Be it proximity or company. But the map forced him to be near her. The weight of it in his pack, the faint hum of its power was a sense of security. Having it on his person, assured they wouldn’t run off without him. And because he couldn’t stop staring at the glowing island. Even after knowing the map existed, seeing it for himself and holding it in his hands, he still wondered if this reality was a dream.

  Dyna studied him as if she could see him in a way he wished she couldn’t. “Thank you for your concern, Prince Cassiel. As for the use of Essence, I don’t mind it in the least.” She strolled on, leaving behind the subtle honeysuckle scent of her hair.

  He watched her go, again left wondering who she was. Dyna was such an odd human. Too kind. Too curious. Too confounding. Not someone he expected to be trekking across the world with. Yet here they were, tied together by some chance.

  Lost in his thoughts, Cassiel forgot to keep up with her. At twenty paces, her petite form slipped through the trees and the journal’s hum faded away.

  Chapter 18

  Cassiel

  A rustle in the bushes jolted Cassiel awake. He jerked upright on his branch, almost falling over until he remembered he had been sleeping in a tree. Gripping the bark beneath his fingers, he surveyed the area below, searching for what had disturbed his sleep. The dying fire did little to illuminate their small, dark campsite they had set up in the middle of the forest. Dyna slept on the other side of the campfire.

  Alone.

  Where was the beast?

  Zev’s bedroll was empty, a wool blanket left in a crumpled heap on top.

  Cassiel’s skin prickled under his damp clothes. A chilly veil of mist hovered between the dense hedges enclosing them. He had chosen this campsite for its seclusion, but the still trees now entrapped him.

  At another whisper of rustling in the bushes, he dropped from the tree branch, landing lightly on his feet. From his belt, he slowly removed the silver knife. He slowed his breathing, straining to catch any approaching sounds. A cold draft brushed against the nape of his neck. He spun around, and his heart lurched at the sight of two reflective, yellow eyes watching him in the dark. The massive black wolf sat silently among the foliage, nearly swallowed by the night.

  Cassiel tightened his sweaty palm around the slick hilt of his knife. “I suspected you would come after us next. Well, come on then. I’m ready for you.”

  The wolf blinked at him in question.

  “I went back to the glade. I saw what you did. You slaughtered them all. Your own kind.” Another shiver sunk down Cassiel’s spine. “Does she know what you have done?”

  Those yellow eyes moved to Dyna’s sleeping form, proving Zev remained coherent.

  “No. Otherwise, she would fear you as well.”

  The wolf slinked toward the camp, giving him a wide berth. Cassiel turned, keeping it in his sights. When reaching the campfire, the wolf took firewood within its jaws from the stack beside it and dropped them over the dying flames. The fire rekindled, providing more light. Then it headed for Dyna.

  “Stop. Stay away from her.”

  The wolf chuffed what sounded like a human scoff and laid down, curling beside Dyna.

  Cassiel glowered. Was it safe to let the beast near her?

  As though to answer, Dyna murmured in her sleep and her arm wrapped around the wolf, nestling into the thick fur. Well, she said Zev would never harm her. Werewolves were protective of their kin.

  But was the Pack not kin?

  Cassiel took a corner of his bedroll and dragged it to the far end of the campsite at the base of a gnarled tree. He sat with his back against the trunk to watch the beast and shook out his blanket over his legs. The journal tumbled out. Firelight shone on the crescent sigil of House Astron.

  The Astron’s were an infamous family. Notoriously powerful Lunar Mages that maintained dominion over the Lunar Guild unopposed for the last three-hundred-years. He was to believe that Dyna had descended from them?

  Wispy clouds parted overhead, allowing moonlight to shine over Dyna’s small form crowned by fog. It made her pale skin milky compared to the large, black beast beside her.

  There was one thing she had said that he believed to be true: her pledge to destroy the Shadow. He had to admire her determination. She found the means to defeat her demon so she would never give up this dangerous quest.

  But the Sunstone might not be the only option.

  Cassiel turned over his hands, studying them. His father had said they were clean. He had taken no human lives. That would mean with his sword he had the power to eliminate the Shadow. Possibly. As a half-breed, there was no telling if his blood was pure enough to extinguish evil. However, he had regenerative abilities, so there was a probability that it was

  But if Dyna knew he could slay the demon, she might give up her mission to Mount Ida, and that could not happen. He needed to know if—

  Cassiel looked down at his mother’s ring. He sighed and tucked it within his shirt. He needed to reach the island, at any consequence.

  Besides, why get involved? People weren’t made to help each other. It was everyone for themselves. Her secluded village kept her sheltered and naïve. She had no idea how cruel life was. A part of him—a small part not tarnished by pessimism—wanted to slay her demon so she could continue living that way.

  Dyna’s soul was the last bit of good left, not that he would admit he liked the colors of its electrical storm. Her soul was uncorrupted. Not yet tainted by greed, lust, or even wrath. She was angry, but as much as the demon took from her, her soul wasn’t dark with hatred. Though she attempted to hide her sadness under smiles, it hovered on the surface.

  What happened the night the Shadow came to her village? They spoke of her father opening the Netherworld Gate, and that surely had killed him if not the demon. The Seven Gates contain a power that mere mortals cannot touch and expect to survive. And now Dyna searched for another method to fight the Shadow; one that would most likely claim her life as well.

  He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree, tucking the journal under his crossed arms. His eyes grew heavy as the sky lightened. Why was he contemplating this? The stupid human meant nothing to him. He only had one priority.

  Reaching Mount Ida.

  Morning light filtered in through Cassiel’s eyelids. He realized too late he had fallen asleep and left himself defenseless when he sensed Zev looming over him. The camp was quiet.

  They were alone.

  Forcing himself to keep calm, Cassiel listened for Zev’s movements. Slowly, he tightened his grip on the hilt of the silver knife hidden under his crossed arms. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Cassiel snapped his eyes open and slashed out. Zev’s startled roar filled the camp. He was in his human form, staggering back, and clutching his bleeding arm to his chest.

  His eyes flashed yellow. He gasped in pain through clenched teeth. Stumbling, Zev dropped to his knees as his complexion quickly turned ashen. Dark blood oozed from the wound. His veins blackened beneath his skin and coursed up his forearm like a web, spreading
across his shoulder to his neck.

  Cassiel rose to his feet, surprised the silver had been immediately debilitating. He hardly cut him. “I warned you.”

  “I was not going to hurt you,” Zev rasped, a sheen of sweat sprouting on his face.

  “No, I suppose now you won’t.”

  Dyna came running through the trees with haphazard clothes and hair dripping wet. She must have been bathing in the nearby stream. “What happened? I heard a shout!” She gasped at the sight of Zev’s bubbling wound. Her wide eyes flitted from him to Cassiel’s knife. “What have you done!”

  She snatched a small ceramic vial from her satchel, popped off the cork, and yanked Zev’s head back to pour the murky purple liquid down his throat.

  Zev heaved and coughed, clutching his stomach as he convulsed on the ground. Dyna patted his back, murmuring soothing words as he vomited. His forearm became so rigid it turned white as more black sludge dispelled from the wound.

  Once Zev stopped convulsing, she stood and spun to Cassiel. “You almost killed him!”

  Cassiel looked away, his face growing hot. “It wasn’t without cause.”

  “What cause?” she hissed.

  “The mongrel attacked me.”

  Zev snarled at him, baring his teeth.

  “Oh, have I offended you?”

  “You have no right to bloody criticize me, Nephilim.”

  Fury blazed through Cassiel, and he pointed the knife at Zev. “Speak that word again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

  Zev growled, “You will receive respect when you give it. If you don’t wish to be called that, you’ll not refer to me as anything other than a werewolf.”

  “Call yourself what you will. Silver still burns you.”

  The were-beast staggered to his feet. Expression murderous. Cassiel beckoned him forward with the knife.

  “Enough!” Dyna jumped between them. She pushed on Zev’s heaving chest, failing to hold him back even in his weakened state. Her shoes dragged through the mud as he advanced. “Stop it, Zev. Stop! If you fight him, you will hurt me!”

  He jerked to a halt.

  She shook her head. “Another cut will kill you. Please, don’t do that to me.”

  Zev closed his bloodshot eyes and heaved a deep breath. He walked away through the bushes, heading for the stream.

  Dyna remained facing the direction he went. “I had sent him to wake you, Prince Cassiel. You slept through the morning and if we had delayed any longer, we would not reach Landcaster today as you had demanded.”

  Cassiel shifted on his feet, taken aback by the anger simmering in her quiet tone.

  “You will apologize to him.”

  He retorted. “Come again?”

  She whirled around and fixed him with a furious glare. “You made a mistake. An apology is due.”

  “I don’t owe him one. I was defending myself.” Cassiel’s scowl faltered at the disgust rising to her face.

  “I’ll not have you threaten Zev with that knife any longer. If we are to continue traveling together, you will get rid of it here and now.”

  He seethed, jaw clenching. How dare she make demands of him? “I’ll not be ridding myself of anything.”

  Dyna released a long exhale and held out her hand for the journal. “Then this is where we part. Now, hand over my journal. Please.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “You don’t realize how dangerous he is.”

  “The only danger I see here is you.” Dyna looked at him with an expression that left no room for arguing.

  Cassiel never imagined that he would bend to the will of a human, but as her distant eyes bore into his, he retrieved the journal and placed it in her palm. She turned on her heel and went in the direction Zev had gone. With each step she took, Mount Ida slipped further and further away.

  “Wait,” Cassiel called faintly. He swallowed his pride and it settled bitterly in his stomach. The knife glinted as he held it out to her, hilt first.

  If that surprised Dyna, she didn’t show it. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Her fingers wrapped around the hilt, brushing against his. It left a tingle on his skin, but he didn’t receive a glimpse of her soul. She had closed herself off from him.

  Dyna retreated, slipping into the bushes out of view.

  Grumbling, Cassiel packed up his belongings and rammed them in his pack. That look she wore plagued his mind. He didn’t understand why that bothered him. He only knew that her disgust had nothing to do with his lineage.

  She had not believed for a single moment that Zev had attacked him.

  Well, did he?

  As soon as Zev had touched him, Cassiel’s reaction was to strike first. He groaned and kneaded the knots in his stiff neck. Had he made a mistake? In any case, Dyna thought the worst of him.

  He hiked his pack over his shoulder and looked around the empty camp. They had already packed their belongings. Only the dead campfire was left and a small puddle of a congealed, black substance. Zev’s blood had reacted to the silver, turning black as it had clotted.

  That would kill anyone.

  If Cassiel was being honest, that had not been his intention. He only meant to hurt Zev enough to make him back off. Now he may have made things worse. Dyna had her journal and didn’t specifically say he could remain with them.

  If she left him behind, Cassiel supposed he deserved it.

  Chapter 19

  Zev

  To keep his mind off the pain, Zev listened to the burble of water and the trill of birds chirping in the surrounding birch trees. He laid by the bank of the stream while Dyna worked on washing out his wound.

  If the knife had only touched him, it wouldn’t have had such an effect. But the edge of the blade had sliced his skin, seeping silver into his bloodstream. The poison blazed through his veins. It felt like he had dipped his entire arm in flames from his fingertips to his elbow.

  How far would the pain have taken him if Dyna hadn’t forced another poison down his throat? Swallowing wolfsbane was like swallowing liquid fire, searing his stomach from the inside. Thankfully, most of the burning agony subsided after he spewed.

  “Uncle Belzev told me to always carry wolfsbane extract with me,” Dyna said. “In case I needed to restrain your wolf.”

  He had struggled with controlling his wolf after his first full moon shift at thirteen, and his father tried to treat its aggression with the poisonous plant.

  That worked until it hadn’t.

  “He had a theory that its toxic properties would overtake another poison in the bloodstream and push it out of the system.” Dyna placed Zev’s injured arm next to him and dried it off with the hem of her dress, careful to avoid the wound. “I also thought if I could put your wolf to sleep, the silver poisoning would have less of an effect.”

  Zev closed his eyes against the glare of the sun and laid his other arm over his face. He didn’t need to search inside of himself to know his wolf was gone. It fell dormant from the wolfsbane.

  “Forgive me. It was the only thing I thought of at the moment.”

  “You did well,” Zev croaked. His stomach ached and the rhythm of his heart was too slow for his kind, but the burning had reduced to only his arm now. Had his father not built his tolerance to poisonous plants against werewolves, the extract might have done more harm than good.

  Dyna rifled through her satchel and took out a sprig. “Eat these. They will treat your stomach.”

  Zev chewed on the sweet leaves as she applied a topical salve to his wound. He winced when she touched the swollen ridges, but soon the wound cooled and the pain lessened further. By tomorrow, it would scar, although it would always be tender, as were most scars on his body. Wounds caused by silver never fully healed.

  “There, I think that should do it. Has the burning ceased?”

  “Aye, thank you.”

  Dyna sat with her knees propped up and looked out at the stream. The water lapped up the bog, reaching for the tips of her shoes. Azeran’s
journal and the knife lay in the grass beside her. He didn’t need acute hearing to catch her conversation with Cassiel. She had been shouting, unusual for her gentle manner.

  Zev sat up at the sound of distant rustling behind them. Cassiel was quiet, but his scent had given him away. The Prince didn’t come forward though. He briefly paused behind the dense wall of shrubs then turned away as if he had only come to check on their location.

  “What is a Nephilim?” Dyna asked, unaware of his presence.

  Zev surreptitiously glanced at the Prince’s still back through the foliage where he halted in mid retreat. “I should not have called him that, Dyna. I misspoke in my anger. It’s an awful word.”

  It wasn’t his place to explain further, and he sensed Cassiel’s unease. As much as the Prince held to his air of superiority, he cared what she thought of him.

  “He’s different, isn’t he?”

  “He certainly is,” Zev smirked. It was a jab at Cassiel’s temperament, but he knew what Dyna was referring to. Though, she would never use the word half-breed.

  Dyna picked up a stray stick and used it to draw shapes in the mud. “Prince Cassiel does not trust us, but I believe it’s more than that. He does not trust anyone. How could he? His family …”

  “What about them?”

  “I was present at the king’s table as well, Zev.”

  He had not forgotten. The repulsed expression Queen Mirah wore when she looked at Cassiel reminded him of the way his mother used to look at him.

  “Prince Malakel said horrible things,” Dyna huffed. “I had half a mind to throw a fig at his pretentious face.”

  Zev chuckled, imagining the eldest Prince’s reaction if she had dared to do such a thing. “That would have been the last day we drew breath.”

  She laughed. “Thank the God of Urn I didn’t.”