Chapter 43
The witch drank without grace or restraint, pulling weakly at first before her body began to respond to the promise of survival.
Rhen watched her throat move around each swallow while a faint trace of color returned beneath the unnatural pallor of her skin. The storm remained visible in the tremors passing through her, but his blood had begun to slow the speed at which it consumed her.
“You are going to survive,” he said, forcing certainty into every word. “When you wake, you will tell me who sent you and what you know about Sule.”
Her fingers moved weakly across the sheets.
Rhen caught her hand before it fell from the mattress. His grip was firm rather than gentle, but he did not release it.
Within minutes, the change began.
Her body arched as though the blood inside her had become another source of fire. The windows shook, the dying flames bent toward the bed, and pressure gathered inside the room until the shadows seemed to tighten along the walls.
Dax, Cole, and Malakai arrived at the doorway after sensing the disturbance.
Rhen withdrew his wrist from the witch’s mouth and sealed the wound beneath his tongue.
Cole watched the power moving through her.
“The transition has begun.”
Rhen did not look away from the bed.
“She survives it, or she does not.”
Cole’s mouth tightened.
“Blood may keep her body alive, but if the Diablo Levélle magic has constructed some form of bond around her, the transition may continue rejecting anything that remains incomplete.”
Rhen finally turned.
“You mentioned consummation.”
“As one possibility described in the old accounts, not as something you do to an unconscious woman.”
The warning in Cole’s voice was unnecessary.
Rhen’s eyes went cold.
“She cannot remember her own name. Nobody touches her.”
Malakai waited until Rhen faced him before signing.
Then anchor her through what she can still understand: your blood, your voice, and a promise she can hear even if she cannot answer.
A scream tore from the woman on the bed.
The room shifted around it.
The lantern flame beside the mantel guttered, and the curtains pulled inward as though an unseen force had dragged the night against the glass. The witch’s back lifted from the mattress while her fingers tore at the sheets.
Her eyes opened.
They were black, glassy, and focused upon nothing inside the room.
When she spoke, the voice emerging from her was layered beneath her own.
“Sule.”
Every brother became still.
Rhen moved closer.
“What do you know about him?”
Her head turned weakly across the pillow.
“He left you.”
Dax’s gaze sharpened.
“That is not her voice.”
The witch’s hands closed into fists as though she were trying to force something back beneath her skin.
Her mouth curved into a smile that belonged to neither fear nor humanity.
“Sule’s bargain is due.”
The temperature inside the room dropped.
Every flame flickered.
Rhen’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Malakai, bring Mary and the medics.”
Malakai nodded and disappeared.
Cole remained near the doorway, watching the energy distort the air around the bed.
“That was not delirium.”
“I know what I heard.”
Another convulsion twisted through her. The bedframe shifted beneath the force, and a sudden gust struck the windows from inside the chamber.
Dax moved forward instinctively.
Rhen’s head turned.
“Stay back.”
“I am trying to help.”
“Then do it from there.”
Dax lifted both hands and retreated one step.
The witch folded around herself, clutching her abdomen as though something beneath the transition were attempting to tear through bone and muscle.
Rhen felt the connection then.
It was not the desire that had struck him earlier, nor the unsettled recognition he had refused to examine. This was a direct pull beneath his ribs, a demand formed through blood and magic that tightened whenever her body convulsed.
At the same moment, another connection flared elsewhere in the stronghold.
Veya screamed.
The sound traveled faintly through stone and distance, but every male in the room heard it.
Dax turned toward the corridor.
“She felt that.”
Cole’s expression darkened.
“Rhen’s blood entering another magical bond may have struck the tether.”
Rhen swore.
A second scream reached them, followed by doors opening and hurried footsteps deeper inside the compound.
Dax moved toward the exit.
“I will go to her.”
“Keep her away from this room,” Rhen said. “Do not give her my blood unless the tether becomes life-threatening.”
Dax nodded and disappeared into the corridor.
Cole remained with Rhen.
“You cannot force a heretic transition into obedience.”
“Then tell me something useful.”
“She needs a point of continuity while the magic tears apart everything she recognizes.”
“You believe my voice will accomplish that?”
“I believe your blood is already forcing her body to listen to you.”
Rhen looked down at the woman thrashing upon his bed.
He pulled the sheet around her, covering and containing her as securely as he could without restricting her breathing. The action held no softness; he treated her like unstable power he had chosen to grasp with his bare hands.
He lowered himself beside her ear.
“Listen to me. You are inside my home, and my blood is inside your veins.”
Her eyes flickered without focusing.
“You will not die here, destroy this room, or harm anyone under this roof.”
A broken sound escaped her, carrying the edges of both laughter and pain.
The other voice moved through her again.
“Sule promised.”
Rhen became still.
“You will explain every word of that when you are conscious enough to remember your own lies.”
He placed one hand against her sternum, providing steady pressure without restraining her.
“I am here. Hold on.”
The convulsions hesitated.
For a single breath, the pressure inside the room eased and the flames steadied.
Cole exhaled.
“Keep speaking.”
The door opened before Rhen could answer.
Mary entered with two medics, while Malakai followed close behind. Mary took one look at the bed and immediately moved toward it.
“She is turning,” Rhen said. “The witch magic is active, and something else is speaking through her.”
Mary’s expression tightened, but she did not hesitate.
“We cannot suppress the transition completely, although we may be able to reduce the physical shock.”
The lead medic examined the woman’s breathing and the unstable movement beneath her skin.
“A minimal stabilizer may keep her body from seizing while the blood conversion progresses.”
“Do it,” Rhen said.
The medic prepared the injection.
The witch arched again, and her scream ended abruptly when her throat tightened.
Rhen caught her jaw and adjusted her position.
“Breathe.”
She gagged before dragging air into her lungs.
Veya screamed again elsewhere in the house.
Rhen looked toward Malakai.
“Help Dax keep Veya away from this room. Do not restrain her unless she becomes a danger to herself or someone else.”
Malakai signed, And the tether?
“No more of my blood unless she begins to crash.”
Malakai disappeared.
Mary moved closer to Rhen.
“She needs you controlled.”
“This is controlled.”
Mary accepted the answer because argument would achieve nothing.
The medic administered the stabilizer.
The witch’s body shuddered before the tremors eased enough for her breathing to become more consistent. Her eyes remained open and unblinking, as though something behind them had awakened and was listening to every word spoken around her.
When she spoke again, the voice belonged to her.
“Cole.”
Rhen leaned closer.
“What about him?”
“He lived?”
The relief inside the question was unmistakable.
“He lived.”
Her breath left her in a shaky exhale.
Then her gaze found Rhen.
The room tightened around the connection between them.
“Charon,” she whispered, pronouncing the title with the unconscious familiarity of someone who had spoken it before.
Rhen’s expression changed by only a fraction.
“Stay with me.”
Her lips trembled.
Deep beneath her own voice, the other presence released a quiet, satisfied answer.
“Good.”
The final candle went out.