Blood and Peaches
Emrys
The first blow cracked the Hollowborn’s skull like porcelain, black blood staining the checkered tiles.
“Stay close!” I growled at Daphne. Among the thunder of Liang’s gun, the smoke and the smell of gunpowder, she was behind me—a gentle light in the chaos.
Oh, how I missed this—the sound of bone giving way, the crackle of unleashed power surging down my spine like an electric storm. I became the storm. No longer shackled. No longer still, but deadly like an Apocalypse horseman whose time for vengeance had come.
Darkness clung like armor, my shadows surging forward, cleaving through the next abomination in a spray of black fire. The thing shrieked as it disintegrated. I inhaled through my teeth, tasting the ash, grinning like a madman.
Not bad. Not bad at all, considering that a slice of my power now lingered in Daphne. The manor shook. They came in swarms.
Good. Wish there were more.
They were crawling up the vaulted ceiling like giant insects dropping on us, encircling us.
The more I destroyed here in these halls, the less would remain to plague the world outside. Blades of shadows spiraled from my arms, and I swept a dozen, my laughter shaking the walls.
Even in the fray, I was aware of Daphne. A gasp, a stumble, the jingle of the ridiculous amount of jewelry she was wearing. Among blood frenzy and tactics, I sought her, making sure she was safe.
The Hollowborn came in droves—jagged mouths and eyeless faces. They crawled from every crevice drawn by the shattered wards.
“To the stables!” Liang reminded me, loading his gun. His face was expressionless, but his eye gleamed. Gods, he was enjoying this, too.
Chaos raged through me.
My time had come. And someone had to pay for all these decades I spent rotting in this manor.
“Cagliostro!” I roared. “Are you here? Show yourself, you coward!” If I could only get my hands on the traitorous bastard who locked me here…
Nothing. Only waves and waves of Hollowborn and some of Vexley’s men, the living more cautious than the dead. Liang made quick work of them.
Blood splashed against the tapestries. Black lightning exploded around. My spell shook the bones of the manor.
The Hollowborn screamed, clawing at their faces as my magic tore through them. I barely registered the stench of burning flesh, the splatter on the walls, the distant gunfire from Liang down another hall.
I only felt the wind inside me, finally unbound. The frenzy my bones remembered from a thousand battlefields consumed me, and the howling manor around me faded. It was only me and the bloodlust.
Until—
“Emrys!” A sound so small in the roar and thunder around me, yet it made the world stand still.
I was panting. The walls around were scorched, half-melted. The air shimmered with residual magic, and my fingers… were still crackling. My vision doubled.
Too much. I was going too far.
Focus.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m still here.”
Her breath caught when she saw my face. The savage glow in my eyes. The darkness that clung to my skin like armor.
I saw myself reflected in her gaze—and almost flinched. Not a warrior, not a godling. A monster. Burnt into the air around me like a nightmare made of flesh. And still, she didn’t run.
I touched her shoulder briefly. Enough to make sure she was real and not just smoke and memory.
“Stay close,” I rasped. “You carry part of my magic now. If you stray too far—” I didn’t finish the sentence. I wasn’t sure what would happen. I didn’t want to find out. But there was something else. For a heartbeat, I was speaking to the one I lost millennia ago.
Don’t go there, Emrys.
A shout snapped me back to reality. “They’re breaching the west wing,” Liang warned from the far end of the corridor. “We need to go, now!”
My eyes sought her. Why had she become so important? Because she stole a part of my power? She was simply a tool. A valuable vessel, I reminded myself.
Of course. Like Branwyn was a tool for my small political plot centuries ago. They were just mortals, remember?
I couldn’t let this happen again. It took me centuries to become whole again after Branwyn’s death. To lose another would destroy me.
“Just a vessel,” I whispered, looking at her shivering frame in an elegant riding suit.
A flash of movement, and a Hollowborn lunged from above, claws stretched to her throat.
Her strangled scream unleashed something in me.
Aiming a spell, I crushed him with such savagery that the air split.
“Stay close,” I snarled. She was pale, breathless, her lavender eyes wide, her short hair tousled.
My heart sank as I saw her for what she was.
Someone who had seen too much in her short life.
Someone who had too much taken from them.
Oh, dear Daphne, we might not be so different after all.
My bloodied fingers brushed her neck—and time fractured. For one heartbeat, I smelled iron and horses. Heard the shriek of war horns. The wind off the chalk cliffs of Britannia, thick with blood and salt.
She had stood like this once, Branwyn. Her blade raised.
I blinked, and it was Daphne again. Afraid, alive. Not Branwyn. Yet I needed to protect her.
Without a word, I dragged her through the collapsing manor toward the stables. Corridors opened up before us, leading us away from the battle inferno. Duskmere Manor was helping us escape. Maybe it wanted to be rid of us, troublesome tenants, and sink back into timeless apathy.
We ran through the servants’ entrance and the night air washed over my face. My rage sizzled like embers drowned in water.
I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The air was different. Freedom was here, at my fingertips.
“To the train station, as planned?” Liang asked, swinging onto the saddle of the horse he brought.
I nodded. “We might get the last train to Dover. She rides with me.”
I jumped into the saddle and pulled Daphne, placing her before me. Her scent of lilies and sun-warmed peaches purged the stench of gunpowder and blood. Before I knew it, I was inhaling deeply.
A tiny, winged shadow flitted above. Liang aimed a pistol at the sky, then laughed. “That damned bat made it out, too. Let’s split. Meet you at the train station.”
I spurred my horse.
The wind bit at my face, the pinpricks of stars peeked through torn clouds. Her warmth, the weight of her body against mine, anchored me—and I resisted the temptation to gallop toward vengeance.
I thought freedom would be thunder. That I’d roar through the night and let the world know Emrys Caerwynne was unleashed.
But freedom came softly.
It tasted like blood and peaches.