Framed
She’s figuring it out. What do we do?
Nothing. We must wait for the king.
ERROR
There are moments where I wonder if she’s asleep or simply avoiding the conversation we need to have.
At this point, I’m not even remotely upset. I was terrified, sure, but now with the worst of it behind us, I know she had her reasons.
“Cass,” I whisper, brushing hair away from her closed eyes.
She doesn’t move, but I can tell she’s awake. Her nose does that twitching thing when she’s thinking, and she’s apparently been thinking a lot.
The wound around her abdomen has started to close. I never found the bullet. Frankly, I don’t know what happened. But I’m not going to question miracles.
“Cass, please,” I whisper, brushing my hand down her face. Her skin is warmer now. She’d been so cold before. “I know you’re awake. Just talk to me.”
She blinks her contact-muddled eyes open. I almost want to pull out those damn things myself so I can see the orange.
I let out a sob of relief and press my face into her neck. Just seeing her move is enough.
She lets out a groan as I sort of clamber over her. I don’t mean to knee her in the thigh, but I’m lanky so it happens.
I curl up against her, trying to pull her taller body against me. She nestles a little. Still quiet. Still thinking.
“I’ll talk,” I say, lips against her ear. “You listen.”
She smells divine. It doesn’t make any sense. I’d seen her sweating. I’d seen her dying. She did die. And yet she smells of the spice that makes me want to kiss her entire body.
“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Or the last of the vampires. Or even that you didn’t tell me. I know you had your reasons, however flawed they were. I’m only miffed now because I had no way of curing you.”
Her pink tongue runs along her lips and I see them now.
The fangs.
“Have those always been there?” I ask, finger tentatively poking at her lips. She bares them a little and I yelp a little when the canine incisor punctures my finger.
“Jesus,” I whisper, watching the wound heal. “That’s sharp.”
“I can somewhat retract them,” her voice is hoarse, but it’s hers. Accent and all. “Though I have to admit that it was difficult in some of our more heated moments.”
I frown and study her side profile. “You wanted to bite me?”
That gets a grin out of her, and it melts my heart.
“No,” she shakes her head a little, though the motion looks painful. “Well, not because of that. I still have that drive, it’s just…”
Her throat bobs slowly. Like she’s not sure about this conversation.
“Please tell me,” I whisper, kissing the side of her face.
“When Darkrend experimented on us, it killed most of our people. It killed most of the royal line. Ivan included.”
“Royal?” I ask, and she smiles again, but it’s wistful.
“My bloodline is the progenitor line of vampires. My ancestors were the first. And I am the last.”
The words take a long moment to sink in.
“Why didn’t it kill you?” I ask softly, not wanting to break the spell of her openness.
She licks at her dry lips again and I make a mental note to find her water.
“I do not know,” she says softly. “Ivan and I were the only ones from our bloodline left. The rest died from various things. The ones in our village were court members and nobles.”
She takes a shuddering breath.
“Darkrend said he would cure our vampirism. That was why he was there. In the end, he only mutated it.”
“How?” I ask, eyes wide as I watch her seem to drift back into her vast memories.
She turns to me, now, and I just want to pull her in and make her feel safe. Loved.
“My sanguine form was, at one time, a version of myself. It was the reflection of the soul. Of the power one had. Grandiosity and beauty were the markers of a powerful vampire and—”
Tears thread through her eyelashes and fall to the bedding.
“I had been beautiful. And now—”
“Now you’re a gorgeous wolf-bat,” I say, pressing kisses to her eyes. “Your sanguine form is beautiful.”
I chew on my lip before continuing.
“When I thought you were going to kill me in the Guild, my final thoughts had been that dying to you wouldn’t be all that bad.”
She huff out a derisive snort.
“Believe me or not,” I say, shrugging and pressing another kiss to her cheek. “I’ll get you some water.”
Before I can roll away, she grabs my shoulder and holds me still.
“I—” she sighs out and her mottled eyes meet mine again. “I cannot eat food or drink water. That, of the few things, survived the mutation.”
“Do you need blood?” I ask, running through the very short list of vampire stereotypes I know of.
She shakes her head a little before looking like she might cry again.
“I need to drain Affliction. Or, Aether, I suppose as it is actually known.”
“Aether?” I ask, studying her crumpling expression.
“That is its true name,” she says frowning a little. “I do not know where the term Affliction came from, but Darkrend had called it Aether all those years ago.”
“So, you need it?” I ask, filing the information away from later.
“From a Remnant or person—” she shudders a little and I sit bolt up, sliding off the bed.
“Alright, I’ll—” I frantically search the somewhat reassembled room. “I’ll go kidnap one of the NCPD officers and bring them here.”
Her eyes snap to mine like she hadn’t expected that.
“You would do that?” she whispers, struggling a little before pulling herself into a seated position.
In the light now, she looks gaunt. Alive, of course, but gaunt and fragile.
“Anything,” I breathe out, confused by her confusion. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Silver no longer kills me, but it drains me of the power I collect,” she says softly, eyes falling away from mine. “To recover fully I would need a Remnant. Not a human.”
I nod quickly, running through ideas.
“Arya,” she says quickly and my gaze snaps to hers again. “I do not want this blood on your hands.”
“Cass,” I hiss, feeling a surge of anger at her, however misplaced. “What part of ‘I love you’ do you not get?”
Her jaw works wordlessly.
“I’ve got enough blood on my hands at this point anyways. I’m just thankful they’ve all deserved it.”
I feel her eyes on me as I stride to the door.
“Fuck,” spit, looking into the rest of the house that I’d yet to actually explore. “I’m still in Romania. How the fuck do I get—”
I gather the shadows like before. Like the way I’d done to get here.
But they flash and fall apart as the portal fails. Apparently several thousands of miles is too much, now.
“Fuck,” I hiss again, panic beginning to rise in my chest. “Okay, so maybe someone locally then?”
Surely there’s a few different sects here. Someone who—
“Arya,” Cass’ tone is sharp now. Like she can see the spiraling. Feel it, probably.
“I’m going to find a way to fix this,” I say, voice tight. “Wait—”
I cross the room to her and grab her hand between mine.
“Drain me.”
She tries to pull her hand back, but I hold tight. Her eyes spark with revulsion.
“I would rather die,” she says, venom in her voice.
“I stopped that before and I’ll fucking do it again,” I whisper, not dropping her blazing stare. I can see the orange peeking through now.
Her jaw ticks, but she doesn’t look away.
“I will not let you waste away,” I say, putting my arm out. “Do what you need to do. I’m strong enough.”
She finally looks down at my skin. I can’t tell if it’s the light or the contacts, but her eyes seem to dilate a little.
“It is not like in the fantasies,” she whispers, eyes still locked on my bared forearm. “It will not feel like ecstasy. In the old days, yes, but not now. Not with what I am today.”
“Keeping you alive is the only thing I care about,” I say, studying the dullness of her hair. It’s like the Aether itself was her life force.
“Please,” she whispers, and I look down to see she’s crying. Once was already terrible, but twice in one day? “I do not wish to do this.”
I kneel beside her and wrap a gentle hand around her jaw, pushing her eyes to meet mine.
“You told me there would be time for grief and sorrow,” I say, rubbing at the tears. “We both deserve that—for Ivan and Percy. But now?”
She nods a little, back stiffening. “Now is the time for vengeance.”
“And I can’t have you keeling over while vengeance-ing.” I frown a little at the word, but shrug.
Cass takes a shuddering breath, but nods. Just once.
Her hand glows with the blood red of Bloody Mary. I marvel at the power contained in this one person—in my love.
She presses the red palm to my forearm and pain rings through me like a knife straight to the neck. I tense barely letting out a wheeze, and she glances at me.
“Keep going,” I grunt, brushing at her face with my trembling thumb.
The pain somehow gets worse. It’s like she’s searing something into my skin, but the burn doesn’t go away and gets hotter.
And then it ends. Like it had never happened.
I slump forward and she catches me with strong arms. Stronger arms than before.
“My love,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple as I try to get my feet under me. “Breathe. It should only take a few minutes for it to wear off.”
I let out a sharp gasp before putting my feet down on the floor and using the bed to prop myself up. The world wobbles like I’d just suffered massive blood loss, but it’s more visceral.
“Alright,” I whisper, straightening. “Open me a portal to the Citadel. I’ll tell them what’s happened and that you’re safe.”
She stares at me like I’ve gone mad.
“You should sit down not—”
“No,” I say, pointing to where the portal had been last time. “No, we need to move before Damien’s people do. Before Darkrend does. He thinks you’re dead and we can use that. There’s no way I should have saved you. Hell, I don’t know how I did.”
“You said die again earlier,” she says, frowning.
I gesture a little frantically. “I don’t know, Cass. I don’t remember a lot because I was a little bit stressed. When neither of us are actively dying we can debrief, but I need a portal.”
She nods wordlessly and I press a firm kiss to her lips, tasting the spice and vibrance in her presence.
“I’ll call you when I need you to open it again,” I whisper and she nods, looking a bit dazed.
Cass’ finger glows red as she traces the square.
“Azazel!” I call, stepping through the doorway, but I’m met with pure sound.
There’s sirens blaring through the Citadel. People rush from building to building. Armored Remnants and supernaturals move in rank and formation, their weapons gleaming and powers on display.
“Hiraeth?” I hear their monotone voice from somewhere behind me.
If an expressionless white mask could look worried, Azazel definitely manages it.
“What happened?” they ask, stopping at a skid in front of me. “Where is the God Queen?”
“She’s alive, but—” I gesture to the crowded city streets. “What the fuck is happening?”
Azazel points up behind me, and I crane my neck a little to see the large screen projecting what looks to be NC Today.
It’s a video of what must be from the door of Damien Robert’s office—like a handheld unit. The focus is on Damien, so Cass isn’t on screen. When my power explodes, the camera glitches. It restarts as I pick up the unidentified body on the ground and careen through the wall of the building.
The chyron at the bottom chills my blood.
Dr. Damien Roberts murdered. President Ashworth declares state of emergency. All Remnants are now subject to RISE Containment.