Chapter 10 #2
At the fountain stood a child, a little girl who looked to be about ten or eleven, leaning over the edge, playing with the water.
Long nearly black hair, with red streaks shot throughout was braided down her back.
She wore jeans that had holes in both knees, a ratty dark green shirt, rough trail boots and a small dagger strapped to her left hip. She even had a bow slung over her back.
The little girl cupped the water and pulled it up to her face, never looking to me so I couldn’t see her face. “It smells rotten.”
I blinked rapidly and the image was gone, and I found my feet taking me to the fountain. Bending, I scooped the water up and smelled it. The stench rose sharp and sweet, like old blood on metal. I swore I heard a child’s laugh echo off the stone before it vanished.
“It smells…rotten.” Just like the little girl had said.
The door creaked open, inward, but no one stood in the doorway, though a voice called out but not to us, only to me.
“Well, yes, you’ve said that before.”
Veyyr headed for the door and was through it before I could gather myself. Whoever was in this house, knew me.
I’d have bet my falcata that Veyyr had known to bring me here. Information, sure but also…information.
My chest tightened so hard it hurt. Someone finally knew me that wasn’t Veyyr—and it felt like I was drowning in that ice cold creek I’d tried to clear my head in the first day I’d found myself re-born into this world.
Whoever this man was, he knew me. I’d been here in this place as a child.
I was finally going to get answers. But still there had to be control. I couldn’t run in there, because…
It could be a trap. Go careful, always, into new places. I nodded to myself, as if the woman’s voice was in my ears and not in my head. Whoever she was, she had yet to steer me wrong.
Wiping my hand on my thigh, I took a quick glance around to make sure we weren’t being marked or followed, then went after Veyyr.
Shadowed threads seemed to filter across the room—not totally dark, and not fully in the light, they cast the space into uncertainty.
“Veyyr, I’m surprised you would come back after our last tête-à- tête.” The voice was smooth, like cream, a rich tone that spoke of confidence and power.
A creak of a wooden chair, the scuff of boots, and the speaker was there, sitting in the corner of the room, his face cloaked by the scattered shadows.
A glint of something silver at his mouth, maybe a lip ring, and even in the darkness his blond hair was visible, brilliant and shining.
He spoke to Veyyr who was off to the left, but his eyes were on me. “And then you bring this one with you?”
“Where do I find hydra bones?” Veyyr hooked his fingers into his belt as if the owner of the home had not asked his own questions.
A chuckle from the shadowed man, a flash of teeth that had my hand on my sword handle.
Vampire. Fuck.
“That’s all, is it? Hydra bones—the core ingredient for resurrection magic, I thought you’d given up on that.
I warned you not to come back here, and yet…
Here. You. Are. Did you think if you brought her,” he tipped his head toward me, “that the curse laid on you, wouldn’t happen?
That she, being immune to magic like her mother would save you? Or that I would give you a pass?”
My heart thrummed in my chest, and I took a step forward.
Like Isla’s spell that had burned past me without taking skin—immune, then, that was my skill?
I could think of a number of reasons why Veyyr would find that useful.
As simple as walking through a spell guarding something he wanted, or as complicated as fighting someone with high-powered magic.
But those were questions for another time.
“You know me? You know my mother?”
The smile flickered. “Of course I do. I’ve known you since you were a child.”
Veyyr’s hand lifted, and his magic crackled in the small space. “Stop.”
A laugh as the vampire leaned forward. “Wait, you thought I wouldn’t recognize her, under the spells woven into her skin?
Amusing. I am not just a vampire, Veyyr, you know that.
I am a daywalker. A shaman in my own right.
And the magic laid into her reeks of darkness and deep magic.
Though at least she is alive. No one was sure after…
well you know.” He stepped into a shaft of light, dark green eyes suddenly visible and I stared, thinking that I should probably know him.
That something about his face should jog my memory.
He winked at Veyyr as if they shared a secret, which of course they did. They both knew me.
I let his words sink deeper into me. A spell had been woven into me, one that made me not even look like myself.
The child with black hair, strands of brilliant red within. That was why I didn’t recognize myself. I was putting the pieces together as quickly as I could but even so, it felt like I was in a race I had no chance of winning.
The panic I felt every night before laying my head down struck sharp, driving me steps closer to this vampire. This daywalker.
“The spell you are talking about, that’s why I can’t remember? Who am I? Tell me, please.”
His smile was not unkind as he stepped closer to me, lifting a hand to press a single finger to the center of my forehead.
The air suddenly tasted of copper and sand.
His power brushed my skin like static, recognition biting at the base of my skull.
“You are one of the strongest women I know, perhaps even stronger than your mother. But that does not mean you can’t be broken, that you can’t be killed.
Your flaws,” his eyes flicked to Veyyr and then back to me.
“They can and will get you killed, Firecracker. If you have no memory of who you are…then you must find it on your own. I cannot tell you.”
Firecracker. A nickname that hit a door inside of me that I couldn’t open.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Should I be afraid of him? I didn’t think so, but also, he wasn’t helping me which left me pissed. Frustrated and wanting to lash out.
He stepped back, spreading his hands wide, palms up as if in mock supplication.
“I could tell you who you are, and you wouldn’t hear the words.
Until whatever it is that has been woven into you, into the spell laid into your skin is complete, or healed, or the curse cast out, you will not remember.
I would lay my bottom dollar that your immunity is the only thing that kept you from completely losing everything you are, seeing as you are covered in weapons and obviously competent in some of your skill sets and training still. ”
I swallowed hard. Healed. Complete. A spell that had made me forget. “Then tell me my name. Prove it.”
He opened his mouth, and the world went white around me, a buzzing noise, his mouth blurred and there was…nothing. The urge to drop to my knees, to beg was so strong I had to lock my body in place to keep from falling to the floor.
Why would someone do this to me?
“The hydra,” Veyyr repeated as if I had not been in the middle of a life altering conversation. “You know what I am trying to do, Doran. Help me.”
Doran sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Fool of a boy, even now. You can’t save them all. You can’t save her.”
Who was her? Gods and Riftborn monsters, I wanted some fucking answers for once.
Veyyr’s entire body went still, as if his own magic had frozen him over. “I can, and I will. Mallory here will help me.”
I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck, when the sound of a gong lit the air, resonating through the bones in my chest—an alarm of some sort by the panicked screams that followed it. “What the fuck is that?”
Veyyr didn’t move as if the alarm hadn’t sounded. “Where are the bones, Doran? I need them, and you know it.”
Doran cursed under his breath and then strode across the room and pulled a single piece of paper from a pile on the highest shelf.
“Here. This is all I have and it isn’t much.
Old mine shafts, that used to be…a place of passage, but I don’t know which one, perhaps she can help you, her skills mirror that of her mother’s.
If she still has them. If the spell woven into her has not blocked her from her own abilities.
” Again, his eyes flicked to me, as if that should mean something.
But I noted he wasn’t specific. Maybe he couldn’t be, maybe if he was that white noise would come humming back, blocking whatever he would say.
Veyyr took the paper and slid it under his shirt. “Good enough. How long have we got? Are we ahead of—”
Before Doran could answer, a body burst through the door of the house, covered in armor, a long spear like weapon in his hand, a trigger on one end, a solid resemblance to an old long gun.
The tip was made of crystal or glass that glowed sickly green, throbbing like a heartbeat.
How close did he have to be to use the weapon?
The guard’s eyes were the only thing visible, and he chuckled, the sound echoing in his helmet. “Well, Veyyr, finally caught. Boss is going to like this.”
“I thought the guards were not your issue?” I parroted Veyyr’s words back to him.
“Not my first,” he shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
But I could already see the play by play. The guard would lift his hands, he’d squeeze the trigger and then the weapon would shoot at Veyyr, who then would be temporarily drained of magic.
Unacceptable.
I didn’t hesitate, couldn’t, because as much as this Doran might know me, Veyyr and I had a history too, one that I would figure out one way or another—white noise or not, my gut said to follow this warlock.
Which meant I needed him alive and whole.
My blade rested against the back of the guard’s neck before he could so much as flex a muscle to lift his own. “Put the weapon down.”
His head didn’t move, but his body shook. “Do not cut me!”
“Don’t cut him.” Veyyr held out a hand. “Mallory, put your weapon down.”
“He was going to snag your magic, Veyyr.” My voice was hard, without a trace of mercy.
Doran hummed. “Well, she’s protecting you now, that does increase your odds. I’ll be curious to see if you can keep her on your side. All in all, Mallory, I do suggest you don’t cut the useless tit you have there.”
The problem? My falcata was sharp and made with magic and as it rested against the skin of the guard’s neck, just that simple pressure of the edge was enough to draw a thin, line of blood.
The scent was immediate. Coppery tang filling the air.
Doran dropped his chin to his chest. “Well now you’ve done it. Time to go.”
I froze, my stomach knotting as my eyes caught his elongated fangs, my mind screaming that I was about to witness him draining the guard dry.
Every nerve in me screamed to move, but Doran was already moving like liquid lightning, grabbing the guard by the head and snapping it sideways with horrifying precision.
Veyyr grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the back of the house. “We have to run.”
“From what? Doran?” I glanced back, but he was gone as if he’d never existed, the guard’s body slumped unnervingly on his knees. As he fell, I grabbed hold of the long spear gun. A new weapon that would give me an edge on anyone else wanting to wrap spells into my body.
“Not Doran.” Behind the body, the wooden front door crashed open for a second time, and a figure slid through. “Far worse.”
Skin and bones, long fingers sharpened into claws.
The veins on its arms and face were black, eyes yellowed out, and nothing but canines hanging from its gums and a tongue that flicked and tasted the air like a snake.
Its head swung toward us as it was joined by three others.
Eyes widening, nostrils flaring, tongue flicking faster, heads swinging our way.
I didn’t have to know what they were called to know that I’d just met a new monster that wanted us dead. And it had brought more than a few friends to join in the hunt.