Chapter 3 - Jael
Jael
III
Vaguely I was aware of being picked up and carried, bundled gently in someone’s arms, but I couldn’t move. I was trapped in my skin, in my thoughts. Every time I opened my eyes, the world spun, confusing me with twisting shadows and glimpses of the most beautiful face.
When I closed my eyes, all I saw was her—the woman with the lethal teeth who’d been so prepared to end my life.
She was as captivating as a melody, with skin as pale as alabaster and eyes as complex and layered as a symphony, shot through with death.
Vampire. My first sight of one, and it had almost been my last sight of anything.
It would have been better if she’d killed me.
I’d failed my mission, and my revenge—my reason for waking up morning after morning—had slipped beyond my reach.
Sharp pain shot through my middle, and with each clawing zing, memories overwhelmed me.
Silver armour closing in, blades flashing in the moonlight through mist that suffocated the night.
Blood, black in the darkness, splashing across my face, the rocks, the ground.
All our careful strategizing laid to waste, all our hopes and dreams of sowing chaos and defeating Leonine soaking into the dew-wet ground, lost within the screams and shouts of the fallen, and the rattle of a carriage as it rolled away.
A groan escaped me, and I made another attempt to squirm, this time able to raise my arm.
But that small movement sapped the rest of my strength.
All I could do was dangle here and try not to think of the life that awaited me.
If I could call it a life. Nothing but more emptiness.
More of that heavy void that had burrowed so deep into my soul there was nothing left of the fae I’d been.
Though maybe that wouldn’t be an issue. By the numbness spreading through my blood, I suspected my injuries were severe, so there was always a chance I wouldn’t survive to see morning.
When the next wave of stabbing, throbbing, tearing pain swept over me, I begged it to take me. And on my way out, I could think of the bewitching woman that I’d believed had arrived to escort me into the next world.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in darkness so absolute I swore I was already dead.
I sucked in a breath, and the resulting pain confirmed I wasn’t.
Which meant I was actually in the dark. Trapped in the void with no way out.
I screamed into the nothingness with panting breaths, each one triggering new spasms through my ravaged frame, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stay here.
I rolled onto my side, crying out as something in my middle split apart, and lost purchase on whatever surface I lay on.
A strong, gentle hand caught me before I could fall. “I’ve got you.” The voice, feminine and musical, like a quietly played song, tickled my ear. She settled me back where I was and left me again.
I reached out for her, needing something—anything—to anchor me.
There was the sound of something striking stone, then the darkness was broken by the smallest flicker of light. Between the pain and the sudden shock of fragmented shadows, my vision blurred, and my head fell back onto the bed.
“It’s all right,” she said. “The candle’s lit. Sleep now.”
I tried to fight the pull of unconsciousness, not wanting to be lost again, but my body won, and I disappeared.
Every time I opened my eyes after that, I became more aware of where I was. Not that there was much to be aware of. My room was made of rock—walls, floor, ceiling. Based on the firmness of the surface beneath me, the bed may have been too.
But it was more than I’d expected considering I hadn’t thought to wake up at all. Had hoped I wouldn’t.
Where was I and how long had I been here? The lights in the room were soft, the same candles the faceless voice had lit what felt like ages ago flickering.
At the thought of that voice, I stiffened. Had it been her? The epitome of divine-touched beauty that would once have inspired my music?
I turned towards the light and groaned when my head protested the movement.
I closed my eyes until the nausea settled, taking the opportunity to assess my body. My toes wriggled when I bade them, which was a good start. My fingers did the same. Ankles and wrists. Knees and elbows. Shoulders and hips. There was discomfort and stiffness, but the raging agony had subsided.
Although I was relieved, I also couldn’t help but regret that I’d avoided death.
I’d been so close to an end after years of suffering.
I’d accepted it. But now I was back, and I didn’t understand why.
Whoever had saved me, it couldn’t be for any good reason.
No one ever did anything out of the goodness of their heart.
Consciousness rolled in and out, the candles sputtering one instant and shining brightly the next.
The shifting light told me someone had replaced the tapers, but as time passed, no one disturbed the quiet.
Neither the face nor the voice returned.
Once, I woke up to fresh bandages wrapped around my middle, the sting of a healing ointment smeared over my wounds, and the faint smell of river water that made me think of cobalt eyes streaked with blood, but still no one was there.
Already, my fae blood was speeding up my healing.
I felt it in the itch under my skin, the torturous tug of wounds stitching themselves together, assisted by whatever this stranger had done to me.
A bit more rest, a bit more time, and I would be able to shake this haze—and find out what worse hell awaited me.