Divine Blood

by Beck Michaels

  She was incomprehensible.

  Cassiel’s fists clenched on his lap so tight his nails cut into his skin. “I do not understand you. When you and I touch, I see your soul, I see your heart. If anyone has truly suffered, it has been you. Yet hatred and selfishness have not corrupted you.”

  Dyna gasped. “What? You can see my—”

  “I don’t understand it!” he snapped. “Why are you not consumed by wrath for what happened to you, and those you care for? You have reason to hate your fate and curse the world. Why have you not run away and hidden from all that burdens you?”

  Why did she keep fighting to live her life to the fullest when he had long given up on living his?

  Dyna pressed a hand to her chest, and those glimmering eyes of hers burrowed through him, seeing past the wall of stone he had built steadily around himself. Through the bond, she was feeling all of his spite and rage. It was infuriating, maddening, and humiliating.

  Cassiel wanted to fly away from her. Far away in any unknown direction until he could no longer feel her presence inside of him.

  “Anger,” she said, holding his gaze. “Hate. They were with me for a while, but I chose not to let them stay. It was difficult, but I had no use for them.”

  Cassiel shook his head, still not seeing how that was possible. “I need them …” The whispered confession slipped from his mouth as though another had spoken them.

  Anger kept him alive. Hate made him strong. Without them he had nothing.

  “I understand.” Her soft reply burned through him, blurring his vision.

  “No. You do not.”

  She wasn’t a cursed half-breed. She wasn’t born as the object of disgust and ridicule for others to spit on. How would she ever understand?

  Dyna rose and came to kneel beside him. Cassiel searched her face, trying to understand. He tried to perceive something, anything, dark or flawed she had not shown him. The only thing imperfect was the fractures around her heart.

  The way she was looking at him was as bizarre as she was. He didn’t want her sympathy. He didn’t need—

  Dyna laid a warm hand on his cheek. The breath whooshed out of him. A hum of energy passed through their physical connection and moved throughout him. By her surprised expression, she experienced it too.

  For a moment, Cassiel thought she discovered what had happened between them. He had the frantic urge to escape, but it ebbed as the bond filled him with gentle peace. The sensation wrapped around him with a warmth that made his rigid shoulders sag, and he inexplicably leaned into her palm. He was slow to recognize the feeling as comfort.

  Why was she comforting him when she was the one in need of it? Her strange nature countered all he believed about humans or was it this human that was different?

  Dyna treated him like his lowly existence didn’t bother her, like the thing he was didn’t sicken her. His mind struggled to accept that she didn’t reject him, but he sensed it through the bond. She had no aversion to him, even after the cold way he treated her when she never once deserved it.

  Why spare him any kindness? He’d given her more than enough reason to spurn him.

  Cassiel’s second sight triggered, and her mesmerizing soul opened to him in a surge of vibrant colors. He didn’t know how such a beautiful thing could exist, or how he had the privilege to see it.

  Dyna went very still, having guessed he was Soul Searching. But she didn’t move away. She held his gaze as her soul drew him in. Cassiel closed his eyes and let himself fall. All that he was dissolved. All that troubled him lifted. And he faded into its endless depths.

  While he became lost there, he thought he might find himself there too.

  Chapter 29

  Zev

  Fire burned through every facet of Zev’s sanity. A dry cry left his mouth and grew into screams as the searing agony consumed him. The chains were bindings of hot iron, smoke, and steam billowing from where silver touched him. He tried to move, but his naked body was ensnared tightly against the elm tree, heavy shackles clamped around each of his wrists. To become so tangled during the night, the Other must have fought desperately to free itself.

  Zev ground his teeth, trying to push the agony out of his mind. Clouds of his ragged breath hovered in the morning chill. The cold did little to ease his burning skin. The chains and his teeth rattled from his uncontrollable trembling. There wasn’t anything else to do but wait for Dyna to release him.

  An elm leaf drifted down and landed on the ground by his face. He memorized the vivid orange color, smell, and jagged shape, trying to think of anything but the burning and ringing in his ears. The Madness was whispering to him again, always whispering.

  Forget the pain. Forget the past. Forget the chains. Give in.

  Zev growled and willed the mad thoughts away, the distraction leaving him vulnerable to the pain again. It consumed him to the point of delirium. His cries rang in the clearing, filling the forest with his agony and grief.

  He had to endure it. He deserved the torture.

  The chains were a punishment for his greatest sin, and the scars left behind were a testament. A son who murdered his father had no right to anything else.

  Zev’s vision distorted and darkened, hovering on the edge. His senses dulled, as he became numb. Dyna had never taken this long to free him, and the tight chains had well burned through his skin. His body has reached its limit.

  He was dying.

  The thought should have frightened him, but he was ready to go. He wanted to leave this world and go to another where all this pain ceased to exist.

  A dark shape slipped from the trees. It approached him under the shadow of the morning clouds, its movements agile and soundless. A black cloak shrouded its form, a hood obscuring its face.

  Death had come to collect his soul.

  It reached his side but made no move to take him. Why was it only staring at him? Was it waiting for permission?

  Zev rasped, “I’m … ready to pass through … the Gate …”

  Death didn’t respond.

  “Please …” he begged, tears falling. “Finish it.”

  After a pause, Death’s cloak moved aside to reveal a black-gloved hand holding a dagger. Morning light shone on the sharp edge and the red gilded hilt. The weapon seemed familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it.

  “Zev!” a faint voice filtered through his muffled hearing. “Zev!”

  Death vanished in a gust of wind as a glowing form came through the shrubs. A Seraph swathed in light. The being rushed to his side, and her face became clearer.

  “Zev, I’m here!” Dyna’s cool hands took his sweaty face, and his senses slammed back into place. All of it, hitting him with the suffering and stench of his burning flesh.

  Dyna fumbled with a key hanging on a piece of twine. She jammed it into a manacle, and he heard the distinct click of his freedom before the manacles clanked in the dirt. She tried to be gentle in removing the chains, but Zev screamed with each piece of his melted skin tearing away with them. She recited apologies like a prayer, tears streaming down her face. The vile chains formed a pile by her feet, strips of his decaying flesh sticking to the thick links. The silver left burns crisscrossing from his neck to chest, all around his back, continuing down his legs.

  Dyna quickly laid a blanket around his waist and brought a waterskin to his lips. The icy water smoldered down his dry throat.

  “Please. Let me heal you.”

  “No,” he said, his voice but a raw whisper. “Don’t.”

  “Why do you do this to yourself? These burns can become infected.”

  “No!” Zev growled, pulling his hand away. The injuries and the disfigurement were a penance he must wear. His own eyes welled at the sound of her soft crying. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her again, finding she still faintly glowed. Her disheveled red locks shrouded her bowed head. One of his tunics hung on her thin frame, falling off a narrow shoulder smeared with dried blood. Her bloodied pettic
oat lay in shreds, torn by what must have been his claws.

  Zev grimaced as he forced himself to sit up. “Dyna, what happened?”

  She couldn’t have escaped with any significant injury, but he didn’t see any on her. Her dried blood smelled odd. It was mixed with another, much sweeter scent he had smelled before.

  “Is that Cassiel’s blood?” Zev asked in disbelief.

  Dyna nodded. “He helped me restrain you ... I think he healed me.”

  Zev’s eyes grew wide as he looked her over. For Cassiel to have done that meant only one thing—he’d had no choice.

  “How bad was it? Tell me the truth.”

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  He reached out to her, and she recoiled. At the phantom of fear on her face, misery swallowed him.

  How many more of his family must the Other kill before his end? Zev pulled at his hair as the Madness screeched in his thoughts. Bringer of ruination. Seed of misfortune. You reek of death. His wolf snarled within the confines of his consciousness and fur sprouted along his body as it dominated over him.

  “No, no, I’m all right! I’m alive! Don’t listen to its lies!” Dyna wrapped her arms around him. She murmured reassurances until the mad whispers faded. Her scent had changed. It was slight, lingering under the surface. She smelled ethereal. Like Cassiel.

  “Forgive me. Please.”

  Dyna shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive. It wasn’t you.”

  But it was him. The Other would always be part of him. The mad whispers returned, beckoning and alluring. Zev craved to accept what it offered him. He didn’t want to live like this anymore.

  Dyna held him as he bitterly wept. All of his pain spilled from him in shuddering cries. She didn’t let go even after he was empty and exhausted. They sat together in silence for a long while, simply letting life pass them by.

  When the dawn turned to morning, Zev spotted the carcass of a wolf tossed halfway in the bushes, flies buzzing above it. He didn’t need to ask to know he had killed her too.

  “Who was she?” Dyna asked.

  “Tasnia, the Luna of the Lykos Pack. Owyn’s mate.” Zev crossed his arms over his bent knees and laid his head over them. “She came for me.”

  Tasnia had been one of the few werewolves who had been kind to him. And he repaid her by taking away her mate. He’d seen the beginnings of wild Madness in her last night, along with rage, sorrow, and betrayal.

  “It was more than that,” Dyna said. “When the Other appeared, she didn’t run. Nor did she fight.”

  Zev closed his eyes. Tasnia ended her life as a wolf rather than let the Madness take her. She succeeded in her revenge. The burden of her death at his hands and Owyn’s last words would always remain with him.

  “You’re no wolf. You’re a demon.”

  Dyna took his arm. “Come, let’s return to camp.”

  Zev staggered up. His feeble legs stumbled, and he fell against the elm tree. Dyna waited, letting him get his bearings. He could barely stand. She leveled beside him so he could lean on her, his feet struggling to hold him up. They wobbled away, only pausing so she could grab the cursed chains and lugged them along. It was a slow trek through the forest as he dragged one foot in front of the other.

  They eventually left the tree line and entered the clearing where they had camped. The Celestial Prince sat by a roaring fire in the middle of a grass field glistening with a layer of morning dew. To Zev’s surprise, he rushed over to help them. Cassiel took the chains from Dyna and brought Zev’s arm over his shoulders. He withstood most of the weight, half-carrying him the rest of the way to camp.

  Zev hissed and winced as they helped him lay flat on the wet grass. He closed his weary eyes against the glare of the sun. Pain and profound fatigue fell over him, pulling him under.

  “Let me heal you,” Dyna said again.

  Zev rolled over, giving them his back. Cassiel cursed under his breath at the sight of the burns there.

  “I cannot look at you this way,” Dyna said, her voice quivering. “Please.”

  He didn’t protest again.

  She kneeled and held both of her hands above him. Warmth fell over him as vivid green Essence radiated from her fingertips. Static charged the air, prickling along his skin. The light grew as it enveloped him in a cocoon.

  Cassiel inhaled a breath. “What?”

  Gradually, the strain on Zev’s body eased as his pain melted like snow in the spring. Lying still, he watched the wounds go through the stages of healing as though time sped past within the green light. The burns closed and scabbed, then the scabs fell away to leave behind distended pink scars. The last wound over Zev’s heart scarred, and her Essence faded.

  “There,” Dyna murmured faintly, then she collapsed.

  “Dyna!” Cassiel exclaimed. “She’s unconscious!”

  Zev sighed and rolled over.

  The Prince held her limp body on his lap, her head lolled against his chest. “What happened? What was that?”

  “She will be all right,” Zev garbled. “She needs rest.”

  “You both do.”

  Zev mumbled an incoherent reply and his bloodshot eyes slid closed as sleep took him.

  The smell of porridge drew Zev from his dreams. It bubbled in a small pot hanging over the campfire. Dyna slept soundly in the grass beside him under many blankets.

  Cassiel sat with them, his distant gaze fixed on her face. He held a black wing extended above her, providing shade. The sun shone high in the clear blue sky.

  “How long did we sleep?” Zev asked, his throat still rough and dry.

  “Half the day.”

  Zev moaned as he pushed himself upright. His muscles were stiff and sore.

  Cassiel did not comment on what had occurred last night. He was studying Dyna worriedly.

  “She will wake soon,” Zev said. He went to his pack to change into clean clothing and strap on his boots.

  “When?”

  Zev didn’t know. It could be a day or a week. Hopefully not much longer. She had exhausted herself completely to mend him.

  Cassiel’s gray eyes landed on him, examining the new scars that layered his arms and legs. “That light she invoked, that was Essence Healing?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you are scarred.”

  Zev rubbed the chain-link imprinted on his elbow. “Essence Healing uses life-force energy to mend wounds and illness. Similar to your divine blood, but not as powerful. Nor is it a definitive cure. Dyna cannot use it to self-heal, and it does not cure disease. It reaches within the body to locate injuries and increase the body’s rate of natural repair.”

  “She mentioned healing magic requires a lot of power.”

  “Depending on the extent of the wound, it can drain her Essence and render her unconscious until she recovers.”

  “Hence why she hasn’t awoken.”

  “It would happen to my father on occasion. He was a Herb Master of Azeran’s line as well …” Zev trailed off. He had not meant to speak of him.

  “From where I stand, I do not believe it was your fault,” Cassiel muttered. “You were left unchained.”

  Zev inhaled a deep breath. “She told you?”

  “She did.”

  Zev turned away, staring down at the discolored warped tissue on his wrists. Cassiel had not demanded answers because Dyna had already given them.

  “I wish she hadn’t. You despise me enough as it is.”

  A slight flush colored the Prince’s face. “I do not despise you. I did not know how to define you. I have learned that people are all the same no matter where they originate. They reject and fear what does not fit in their societal conformities.”

  Cassiel plucked one of his fallen feathers nestled in the grass and spun the shaft between his fingertips. “Celestials deem themselves as a pure and sacred race. They are intolerant of anything unnatural. They hated me for being half-human, and I hated them for their bigotry. I swore that I would never be like them but I—�
� He sighed and tossed the feather in the fire where it burst in a spark. “I have done the same to you. That was wrong.”

  Zev raised his eyebrows. “Are you apologizing?”

  Cassiel cleared his throat again, fidgeting with the ivory buttons on his tunic. “I am admitting failure in my conduct.”

  Zev smirked, running a hand through his matted hair. That may be as close to an apology as he would get. “I should not have kept my condition from you. It’s difficult to speak about.”

  “I understand that more than most. But if you had kept it from me last night, and I had not followed you into the woods, Dyna surely would have been killed.”

  Zev flinched.

  “Do you not remember?”

  “I have no memories when the Other overtakes me.”

  “You were determined to kill us.” The wind blew against them, drifting Cassiel’s scent toward Zev. It was subtle, but the Prince smelled like Dyna.

  “You gave her your blood.”

  The flush filled Cassiel’s face. “She was dying—and I—I did not know what else to do.”

  “You saved her life yet again. I know what this means.”

  Cassiel’s eyes widened. “You do?”

  “It is illegal for Celestials to give their divine blood to humans. You could be found in contempt.”

  “Oh, right …”

  Zev was not sure if the Prince looked relieved or frightened by that. “It’s a grave law you’ve broken for her sake. Whatever repercussions may come against you, I’ll speak on your behalf and explain to your father what happened.”

  “That is unnecessary,” he said uneasily.

  “Thank you, Cassiel. She wouldn’t be alive if not for you.”

  He cringed, the flush moving down his neck. “Please do not thank me.”

  Zev tilted his head, trying to read him. “Why? It’s truly a debt I’ll never cease to pay.”

  Cassiel sighed. “I only ask that you not speak a word of this. That will be thanks enough.”

  Zev readily agreed. In exchange for saving her life, he would have said yes to anything.

  Zev didn’t sleep much that night, nor did Cassiel. They sat with Dyna, waiting and hoping she’d wake. The more they waited, the more anxious they became. She was too still, her breath too quiet. Zev constantly listened for her heartbeat, and Cassiel checked her pulse.