Blood War (Book 1, the Halfblood Chronicles)

26.1 | All These Broken Pieces

Nika watched in horror as rage consumed Ren. It was even visible, quaking through his body and rippling beneath his skin. His eyes shifted like molten obsidian, a black peerless to all but the void among the stars. A light-swallowing stare.

For a heartbeat, she thought he'd explode from it, but instead, he struck a nearby tree, as fast and brutal as lightning. The wood groaned. A crack shot up the trunk. Several thick branches snapped off and plummeted to the ground.

Nika leapt out of the way, covering her head.

They crashed with a volley of menacing sounds. Then all was quiet again, apart from Ren's shallow breaths.

"My head is clear," he said in a dark rumble.

She fully registered his appearance then. Hair unkempt, clothes torn by claws, lip split and swollen, skin splotched with blood and dirt. He'd clearly been brawling with Volkari, and managed to survive without any severe injuries.

Here, now, with all his towering height and solid muscle, she knew Ren was a force to be reckoned with. But she found herself remembering his capacity for gentleness, the natural ease of every interaction, and his belief that she was worthy of protection just as much as her father.

Equal—he'd seen her as equal.

He doesn't know his own blood status. He might not be a pureblood, and that's the only reason he's being nice.

Markos gave him orders and he's just following through. It's not that he actually cares.

Deep down, Nika had suspected those were lies. She'd suspected why he smiled at her deplorable jokes and seized every opportunity to touch her. Why he'd brought her and Misha together to hunt for answers. Why he'd sent Rivers and the other deserters across the country. Why he hadn't objected to letting her drink his blood . . . 

When dealing with the opposite sex, Nika was usually bold. She quickly discovered that, if she remained idle, they would never admit their feelings for the Halfblood Bastard and eventually move on.

But when she had taken action, it never lasted long. Sometimes, they'd been dared by their friends. Or it was no more than a fleeting fascination. Or, in Miles's case, an attempt to live out extreme political opinions.

Ren's motive, however, failed to manifest itself. And his . . . attentions had come as such a surprise that Nika demanded proof of their authenticity. This rage, fueled by disappointment and betrayal, was just that—proof.

And therein lay the tragedy. For it was too late. The damage had already been done. She'd broken a promise, and hadn't considered how it might affect him.

Nika opened her mouth to apologize, but the forest started shaking. Distant shouts grew clearer, and like a cresting tidal wave, dozens of Volkari came over the ridge and crashed toward them.

Rooted to the spot, Nika watched in awe as they hurtled through the trees. Some carried animal bones, which they beat like drums over their heads. Others pranced around in a savage dance, or tilted their faces to the moon and sang inflective war cries.

They were every bit the uncivilized fiends that the Ministry declared them to be—and they knew it, too. Nika had the feeling this was a display of rebellion, an attack on the blood status ideals that the Daemonstri community regarded so highly. In every whooping call and clanging bone, she heard a single message:

The tainted will rise.

It was mesmerizing. Nika couldn't deny the excitement that filled her own tainted blood, the urge to join them. Until she recognized the glee on their faces and the war-hungry glint in their eyes.

All around, bodies zipped and ripped through the branches, leaves, and bushes. Hoots and jeers and laughter lifted into the sky.

This wasn't just a display of revolt. It was a celebration.

Before she could voice the realization to Ren, one of the bone-dancers knocked her off her feet. It was all she could do to curl into a ball and pray to the Oldbloods that she wouldn't be trampled.

A particularly barbaric-looking Volkari seemed eager to vanquish those prayers, until Ren shoved him out of the way and yanked her back up.

Nika's heart raged in tandem with their battlecries as he pulled her against him and shielded their bodies in the shadow of a large tree. Volkari rushed past them, left and right, making flurries of dust with their supernatural speed.

Soon, the stragglers went over the next slope, then vanished from sight, and the only evidence of their presence was the echoes of their primitive calls.

Ren stepped away with no small amount of aversion. Nika ignored the twinge in her chest and said, "Did they sound . . . happy to you? Like they were celebrating a victory?"

He frowned, scanning their surroundings. Nika watched his face turn deathly pale and instantly felt nauseous.

No no no

"Asteroth," he whispered.

And when he took off running, Nika followed. Southbound—straight into hell.