32. Blood Beckons Blood
Blood Beckons Blood
Darien
T he warehouse was a maze.
Every door led to another that opened into hallways and closets.
If Darien didn’t find Anara soon, he would have to return to Larissa and Halla empty-handed.
An itch of unease had been crawling over his skin ever since he left them.
Darien opened the next door, determined it would be the last one before he turned back.
Immediately pinching his nose, he choked on the sudden and intense stink of death.
Darien had come across a dead deer once on the outskirts of the orchard.
The creature had been ravaged by scavengers and filled with maggots.
Yet the smell of that animal was like a bouquet compared to what assaulted Darien’s nose now.
His eyes burned from the sheer weight behind the familiar smell.
Only last time, the smell had been mixed with ash and smoke.
Stripping off his jacket, Darien swung his gear around so that his sword rested at his hip. He kept his hand on the hilt as he stepped into a room lit by the sporadic light of the failing sun.
Darien squinted against the dimness. A few yards in front of him, crumpled against the wall, lay a dark shape too small to be a draugr . He crept closer, his hand tightening around the hilt. The fan of white hair speckled with blood stopped him cold.
“Larissa?”
In three strides, he crossed the room, falling to her side and rolling her over to face him.
Larissa’s head flopped unrestrained. Why was she there?
Where was Halla? But these questions buzzed unanswered in the back of his mind, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of blood covering her skin.
Gagging on the smell of decay, Darien placed a hand at her throat and one at her wrist.
She had no pulse.
“Larissa, wake up,” Darien whispered. “Come on.”
Cradling her head in his lap, he prayed to the AEsir , to the Kings and Queens of the past, to anyone who would listen, that Anara would appear with her healing nectar.
His breath constricted in his throat; they were alone.
He brushed back the hair from Larissa’s face, smearing blood that leaked from a wound on her forehead.
His fingers paused on the smooth, unblemished skin of her right cheek where her scar should have been.
A guttural growl came from behind at the same moment Larissa opened her eyes. They were entirely white, and when she smiled, her teeth were pointed like needles.
Draugr .
Darien felt the impact before he saw it coming. Not from the creature as he expected, but from his side as something shoved him away from the draugr. He rolled across the floor, raising himself to his hands and knees, then realized what had hit him. Or rather, who.
A massive wolf crouched in front of him with giant paws extended forward and ears flattened low.
Wolf-Anara’s jaw hung open, a growl emanating between bared teeth.
In front of them, the draugr stood mid-transformation, its scaled talons extending as it snarled with Larissa’s face.
Anara leapt at the same time the draugr finished its transformation.
They tumbled to the ground in a flash of claws and teeth.
Darien unsheathed his sword, rushing toward them, but he couldn’t get closer without being crushed by the draugr’s flailing wings. Then the draugr was underneath as Anara snapped at its throat, aiming for the unarmored skin at its neck.
The draugr twisted, rolling on top, and raked its talons across the wolf’s stomach, slashing through fur and skin. Anara’s howl of agony formed a discordant harmony with the draugr’s screech of victory.
Darien lunged forward, taking advantage of the draugr ‘s distraction, and swung. With a thunk, a wing fell from its body, splattering Darien and Anara with dark purple blood that felt hot on Darien’s skin.
The creature roared, arching its bleeding back.
Darien raised his weapon, bracing himself for an attack.
But the attack never came. With one last roar, the draugr fled through the open door. Even knowing it could be a trick, Darien couldn’t wait. Sheathing his sword, he raced to Anara, who had lost control over her transformation.
Her body lay at an odd angle, her bloodied hands splayed against her stomach.
A gaping wound stretched under her hands.
Muscles heaved underneath the jagged cut, pushing blood through the wound with Anara’s every breath.
The muscles themselves, although not severed, had been damaged.
Darien found the jacket he’d flung aside earlier.
Snatching it, he balled it up and pressed it against her wound.
She groaned.
“Anara, you’re alive!” Darien said, hope surging through his body.
Sweat gathered at Anara’s temples. She panted from the pain. “Not for long. Darien, the nectar, in my boot.”
He reached down and unzipped the boot, pulling it from her leg.
The side pocket sewn into it was meant to cushion the bottle and protect it, but the fight with the draugr had been too much.
The glass was cracked, and nectar seeped into the fabric of the boot itself.
Only a few drops remained. Darien cradled the bottle in his hands, tilting it to keep any more from escaping.
“Anara, do I use it all? Is this enough? Anara!”
Her eyes closed, and her brown skin turned a nasty gray color. Her breaths were quiet now—too quiet. Darien uncovered the wound, removing the jacket already soaked by blood.
Please let this work , he prayed to the gods, tilting back Anara’s head and placing the vial at her lips. Three drops slid onto her tongue. The vial was nearly empty. Instinctively, he scattered the remaining droplets across the wound.
For a moment, nothing happened. Anara’s breathing quieted, then stopped.
Darien held his breath.
Anara gasped, her eyes flinging open, pure agony written across her face as she clawed at her stomach with wolven nails.
Lunging forward, Darien clasped her hands together to prevent her from worsening the wound.
Even in her weakened state, Anara was strong.
Darien bared down as she growled and thrashed.
Then, just as swiftly as the outburst had started, it stopped.
Anara went limp in Darien’s hands. Her eyes rolled back.
What had once been a gaping wound was now a tightened line that extended the full length of her abdomen.
The majority of the wound had sealed, but the entire area was raised, red, and irritated.
Darien could almost feel the heat rising from it.
The wound wouldn’t kill her, but the infection might.
“Darien?” Anara whispered, her voice weak.
“Anara! Oh, thank the gods.”
“What happened?”
“There was a draugr . The nectar’s gone; there were only a few drops left, and I don’t think it was enough.”
Wincing, Anara forced herself up onto her elbows. She looked down at her waist. Her eyes met Darien’s. “I’ve had worse.”
He shook his head, but his lips twitched into a smile at her deadpan expression. “Can you walk? The draugr will be back.”
With apparent effort, Anara nodded. “Where are Larissa and Halla?”
“I left them in the main room. The old man must have betrayed us to the Empire.”
“I was so sure of him. I could’ve sworn he was—nevermind.” Her dark eyes clouded with pain. She extended her hand. “Help me.”
Even with Darien’s help, it took Anara far too long to rise to her feet.
Darien’s eyes darted to the open door, worried when the draugr would make its next appearance.
Anara shrugged off her jacket, and although she did not complain, Darien could see how every movement cost her.
Clenching her jaw and panting under her breath, Anara folded the jacket long-ways in half before tying it around her stomach to support the wound.
“Thank you for what you did,” she said.
“I was so stupid. I thought that thing was Larissa. It could have killed me before I realized what was happening.”
“It’s one of their tricks, pretending to be someone you love.”
Heat rose to Darien’s face, but what was the point of denying it in front of Anara? He watched as she took a step forward on her own, grimacing at the pain. “I could carry you if that’s easier?”
Anara’s hiss was answer enough.
“Can I at least offer you my shoulder?”
She hesitated, then acquiesced with a sharp nod. “We have to get back to the others. I doubt that thing is here alone.”
Without further discussion, they made their way back through the maze. When Darien hesitated at a crossroads, Anara would sniff then offer directions with a quiet voice. Four intersections later, Anara’s body stiffened against Darien.
She gasped. “It can’t be! Hurry!”
They rushed down the hall and passed through the final door, returning to the large space they’d left behind. When they entered, Darien hardly felt Anara’s weight on his shoulder or heard the growl reverberating through her chest. He couldn’t make sense of the sight before him.
Halla lay crumpled on the ground. Larissa was supporting her right hand with the other and staring in horror at the man in front of her. As for that man, even with the difference caused by time, Darien would recognize his brother anywhere.
Darien moved toward him. “Aeron?”
The blond-haired man sneered. “The name is Calder to you. Kafteinn Calder.”
Larissa shook her head, worrying Darien with how she swayed. “It’s him, Darien. He used galdr to persuade me.” She sank to the ground, then looked up as though uncertain how she’d gotten there.
“Careful,” Calder smirked. “ Galdr has strong side effects when you’re not used to it.”
It was him. Darien’s brother. Aeron . Relief, confusion, and anger fought for dominance in Darien’s stomach until he thought he might throw them all up just to be rid of them. Anara laid a hand on Darien’s shoulder, the other still holding her stomach, as she snarled from the back of her throat.
Calder spared her a lazy glance. “Anara, is that you? Looking a bit worse for wear, darling.”
She stiffened. “You look pretty good for a dead man.”
“I’ve been searching for you for a long time. Always one step ahead of me. You never knew it was I who hunted you though, did you?”
Anara’s face paled, whether from his words or from her own pain, Darien wasn’t sure. He clenched his sword, the anger taking predominance over his joy at seeing his brother alive. “What are you playing at? Where have you been?”
Calder spun on Darien. Only then did Darien see the anger building in his brother’s eyes. “Where have I been? Where have you been?”
“You were dead, Aeron! They told us you died!”
“Couldn’t be bothered to confirm it though, could you?
” Just as suddenly as the anger had come, it was gone.
His face was wiped smooth, as though every emotion had been extinguished, leaving behind only the shell of a man.
From his waist, Calder unsheathed a long sword of his own.
The sapphire ring glinted on his right hand.
“As I said, I am Kafteinn Calder now. I order you all to surrender in the name of the Grand Empress of Evrópa.”
Darien sucked in a breath but didn’t lower his sword.
His brother was alive. The thought played over and over again in his mind, but Darien forced himself to push it aside.
Aeron wouldn’t persuade Larissa against her will.
Aeron wouldn't draw his weapon on his brother. No, Aeron wouldn’t sneer at him like this, as if he took pleasure from Darien’s internal struggle.
This was not his brother. What had he called himself? Calder? That was the only way that Darien could think of him, and Calder was in his way.
Behind him, Halla lay motionless beside the pile of fallen boxes.
Larissa still sat on the ground with her head hung in her hands, incapacitated by whatever Calder had done while inside her mind.
That invasion into Larissa’s privacy, more than anything else, made Darien’s blood burn. Calder would pay.
At Darien’s side, Anara’s body quivered. He could sense her galdr building for transformation. They would have to act in sync.
“Get them out of here,” Darien said under his breath.
She nodded, moving in step with Calder as they circled one another like three points of a triangle. Someone would strike. The only question was who would strike first.
Darien sensed the surge of galdr from Anara; she spun away from them toward Larissa and Halla.
Calder charged.