Chapter 57 Pretty in Pieces
PRETTY IN PIECES
LUELLA
Cold terror dripped down Luella’s spine like the water falling before her.
Sharp pain lanced through her ribs. She gasped and looked down, expecting blood, but saw nothing.
She knew, then, where the pain had come from. It hit her like lightning, jolting through her. She jerked up into a stand, the water misting her skin.
Restless, she walked beneath the waterfall. The water chilled her to the bone as it poured over her.
She stood in the quiet stone circle, gasping for air as she held a hand against her ribs.
"Graves," she realized aloud. "No—" Her face twisted with anguish.
Graves was hurt.
She knew it—even with the distance stretching their bond thin.
Her fingers flexed against the hilt of the dagger by her side, and she stared down at it. She was powerless.
That was the thing about damsels. Reading about them was like slipping through a soft cloud, until you realized there was nothing to hold you up and you fell right through, the illusion shattering.
This was her shattered illusion. It helped no one to be defenseless.
Her head fell, fingers loosening on the dagger.
If she couldn’t help with her strength, could she aid with her magic? It was foolish. Reckless, even. She didn’t have control over her powers. But a little chaos could turn the tide.
Dare she?
She steeled herself, staring out into the blue-tinted darkness of the mountain hideaway.
One of the mountainsides was a softer incline, jagged rocks jutting out like stairs. She walked toward them and began to climb.
Her body shook from exertion, but she shoved the feelings away. She could do this.
She pulled herself up from the hidden falls, coming to rest on a rocky ledge with a higher vantage point. Her eyes widened as a tremulous sound of shock fell from her lips.
"No."
The Isles were still too far away to see through the cavernous passages of the rocks. But she could see the smoke. The golden spark of a distant fire—too grand to be from something small.
The Isles were burning.
With the dagger in one hand, she placed her other hand on her breastbone, let her eyes drift closed, and dove deep within herself to find the source of that mercurial magic.
It danced away from her, elusive. She gritted her teeth, imagining wrapping her hands around it and yanking it up, up, up, and out—
She gasped, eyes shooting open as she fell forward. The dagger clattered from her hand as her palms fell on the rocks to steady herself.
Luella’s breathing was loud. She lifted her head, somehow already knowing what she’d see.
Thick green vines and roots crawled from the rock, twisting on the ground. A root snaked over her ankle. She reached for it, and tiny flowers bloomed.
Luella closed her eyes in frustration. "It’s not enough."
She tried to wrap her invisible hands back around her magic, but it seemed to have burrowed deep inside her skin, nestling among her organs as if to hide from her. With every thump of her heart, she felt it retreat deeper and deeper. Until she no longer felt it.
But the vines didn’t dissolve.
The flower petals wavered in the wind as if to inspirit her.
She brushed her fingertip over one. It was a delicate blue shade, the tips white. Like the clouds and sea, when her storms weren’t turning them dark and angry.
A soft sound prickled at her back. She stiffened.
It sounded like—
Pebbles skittering down the mountainside.
Slowly, Luella turned her head, staring into the darkness.
Something sharp pricked her fingertip, and she gasped, turning back to the flowers to find thick thorns jutting from the vines and roots. A small dot of blood beaded at the tip of her finger, dripping down the side to fall to the stone.
The vines curled and lengthened. She knew she was doing it, but she didn’t feel anything at all. As if she had breathed life into them, and now they were sentient.
The roots grew thicker until they wrapped around where she sat, as if to cocoon her.
Another sound. Louder this time.
The hair at her nape stood on end. She was aware, suddenly, of how exposed she was now that she’d left the safety of the hideaway.
A low laugh filled the night air, and she stood sharply, dagger in hand, as she spun, searching for the source.
Shadows undulated on the ground, growing nearer. The dagger shook in her hand. From the darkness, a male appeared, as if crafted from nothingness. Not a Fallen. He had brown hair, eyes black as pitch, and a sinister smile.
"The Tenebrae sends his regards," said the Umbra.
Luella thrust the dagger outward, stepping back until the towering side of the mountain brushed her wings. "Tell him to—draw back from here. These people are innocent." Her voice shook.
The Umbra tipped his head back and laughed. "Innocent? I don’t think they’re innocent when they harbor what my master searches for. He told us we would be rewarded for finding you—did you know that?" With each word spoken, he stepped closer.
Luella could go nowhere else. She was trapped. The vines and roots snaked over the stone, thorns pointing out.
The Umbra canted his head. "He will be pleased you’re learning your magic. After all, what good is a magicless Princess?"
"What do you want?" She tried to sound strong.
"That’s complicated. What I want and what my master wants are not the same.
The Tenebrae wants a bride to use." He drew out the word, and she knew it had many meanings, each one making her skin crawl.
"But what I want? I want him to notice me—to realize that a little bitch like you doesn’t have what it takes to keep him satisfied. "
Luella’s brows furrowed.
The roots curled around his legs, thorns piercing his calves. He didn’t flinch. He waved a hand before him, and shadows curled, a sword materializing from nothing. His hands wrapped around the hilt. It was huge. Nearly half the length of her. It made her dagger look like a twig.
Without looking away from her, the Umbra sliced the blade down, cutting the roots in two. Something painful unfurled inside her, and she gasped, sagging against the stone at her back.
He cut through each vine and root until lifeless flower petals drifted onto the ground. She felt each slice as if it rended through her flesh.
At her pained gasps, he looked up at her. He took in her trembling body and watery eyes. "Interesting."
Luella was boneless as he finally crossed the distance between them. He held the sword out, the tip grazing beneath her chin, which he used to lift her face. The deadly point dug into the underside of her neck. She held her breath.
He shifted the sword until the edge rested against her neck, his arm notched at her collarbones. Even the feel of the fabric of his shirt against her flesh made her sick. He smelled of dank water.
"I bet you are untrained. Dry as a bone." His lips brushed her ear. "I could make you wet. Maybe if I fuck you, he’ll want me then."
She gave a tortured sob. "Get away from me—"
The blade cut deeper. Hot blood trickled from a shallow wound at her neck. He pulled the blade away, lifting it to his lips as he ran his tongue over the edge. It cut the edges of his mouth, his blood mingling with hers on the blade. He groaned deeply.
Luella cried, cornered.
"The sound of your tears is decadent." With a bloodied tongue, he pressed his opened mouth to her jaw. "Give me one more, then—so I can tell him you cried for me first."
As his wet tongue trailed up her cheek, she squeezed her eyes shut. Words washed over her, then, unbidden, as if drawn from a deep well:
That’s how the Umbra spreads. Fluids. And of course, they’d choose the worst way to infect another, by raping them.
Luella’s entire body went rigid. The pain of the dead vines dissipated in the face of overwhelming terror. No, no—
Was she going to turn?
Had his saliva gotten anywhere on her body? What about the blood?
She knew what this Umbra was going to do to her. Through the consuming panic clawing in her lungs, she didn’t let herself think.
The ground shook as trees burst free from the stone. Roots lashed in the air like large worms as they got between her and the Umbra, wrapping around his chest and forcing the sword from his hands. He fell back against the stone with a huff.
The roots and trees kept coming. Even she wasn’t spared.
As if, in her terror, they couldn’t differentiate between friend or foe.
The mountains tremored. She fell, palms scraping the stone.
A large boulder tumbled down the cliff from above. It was headed straight toward them.
The small ledge she was on had a tiny cracked path—her only way out. There was no other way. Luella was essentially trapped. She dove for the path, knees slamming against stone as she hoisted herself further up the mountain.
The Umbra growled. The boulder was between them, looming like a dark shadow. He couldn’t get around it. He dove out of the way and—
She barely had time to pull her legs up before it fell in a thundering quake. The rocks cut into her stomach as she clung to the mountain. Dust choked her. It seeped down her throat, smelling of wet dirt and salt.
Her ears rang as she held her breath. Had he been crushed?
No—she wasn’t that lucky.
"You bitch!" she heard the Umbra roar. "Why don’t you come and show me more of what you can do." The words cut through the dust.
Luella turned her head, cheek resting on her arms as she clung to the stone. She couldn’t see much through the dust. The boulder was large, gnarled tree trunks crawling up through the side of the mountain and jutting out like spikes—or a cage. The Umbra was trapped.
She scrambled up the side of the mountain, urged on and on by the fear inside her.
All the while, she felt her jaw tingle where he’d licked her face.
She searched inside herself for any change.
But she felt nothing but terror and the faint thrum of her power, curled inside her like a woodland creature, cowering away from a monster.