Bombs dropped behind my eyes, exploding my vision into a million tiny stars.
Consciousness engulfed me as I curled on my side, my tongue too thick as it rested against my teeth, sore with an ache that shivered down my body.
Sticky lips parted in a grunt as I was jerked upwards, my shoulders burning from the weight of my body swinging forward. My wrists scraping against the cuffs that drew me backward. My ears ringing like the blade suddenly pressed against my throat, the drum at my temple holding the steady beat.
A Jolt of electricity hummed against my spine, forcing my fuzzy eyes to open. To look– at the large white screen.
The image focused as the grainy footage spurred to life.
A street corner.
Not any.
Times fucking Square.
In any other district, you'd only see two huddled forms on the ground.
In the city of opportunity, lit up by capital plaques, glowing like a prophet of death–
Me.
My body shuddered in relief at each greedy mouthful I swallowed.
My skin sang, rejoicing the moment, greedily sucking in his blood that now ran through my veins– the taste of him, I could feel his skin against my teeth–it tore so effortlessly, like biting wet tissue–My hands were pressing under his chin, my fingers buried into the knuckle at his throat. Spectators emerged from their cars in horrified herds, hands covering their mouths, faces lighting up from screens. There was no sound.
But there didn't need to be.
I could still hear the snap it made when I dislocated his head from his spine. The pop a round of applause for my strength– the thud as it hit the van's hood, my standing ovation.
The footage seemed to shake, as if the camera was somehow clouded, distorting the image, the projector clicking as the screen went black.
Lighting up Valentine.
The silence was a cut sharper than the steel pressing into the top layer of my throat. Reminding me of my place. Estelle.
Oh God.
Oh Fuck.
"What a mess you've made, neonate..." Valentine's words were ashes on my skin, fluttering from my funeral pyre.
The lights gathered the tightness in my chest, hardening at the group slotted behind him.
Rhazien's eyes burned me with their impassivity.
Aramastus, smug, opposite the Seneschal, his dark eyes shifting to glance at Rhazien.
Done. I was done.
The Seneschal's words flipping my stomach, "A boon, my Prince. For my Childer's innocence."
The Prince snickered, bowing towards me in a mocking grin. "Oh my! Do you know how special you are, little neonate? Your Master has the tightest purse in the city, and yet here he is, practically dumping his wealth on the floor." Valentine hummed, "A pity I do not often build my throne off of dead favors–"
Rhazien's blue eyes flew open– too late to predict the hands gripping his shoulders, pulling his chair beneath him. The stage thumping painfully with the force of his knees.
I could feel the rage and confusion seeping off him, his limbs thrashing beneath tightening hands, his skin rippling in preparation. Hardening like concrete. His textured tan skin suddenly wiped clean as shiny cuffs were clasped around his wrists. The anger in his eyes dimmed, the rage consistent, but the fire lowered as if something dampened his powers.
"A shame, Rhazien– you were such a fine Seneschal." Valentine looked at his nails boredly, not bothering to turn to face the commotion. Standing instead at the foot of the rounded stage, like an actor awaiting his mark.
There was a squeak, my fuzzy vision catching a dark blob flying in from the back of house. The small animal shifting into the male Nossard, his ears flicking with annoyance as he took in Valentine, his raspy voice an angry storm,
"This wasn't our deal."
Rhazien's face cracked, crumpling in on himself, Antonio stiffening as if he could sense the hurt. Estelle's grip tightened on the blade in a creak, Valentine's icy blue drifting to the shorter man lazily.
The click of a safety.
The barrel pressed against the base of Rhazien's spine.
Antonio refused to look at me. The fucking rat.
He told Valentine about my status. What he thought my clan was.
Perhaps it was the Beast, finally now quenched, providing the clarity I needed to force the words from my mouth, calling on my strength to keep my voice from trembling. "Let it be known that Valentine's court does not respect the most honored tradition amongst kindred. Let it be known that he– like many others before him are fucking cowards."
That got his attention.
Valentine's stiff-legged drop to the ground spurred my panic. My Beast, now focused, churning that anxiety into something productive. My hands felt hot, burning in my own handcuffs, the metal protesting as I stretched my wrists.
Estelle's blade dropped from my throat as The Prince stormed towards me, allowing my Beast to sink further than I ought it to.
Yes, girl. Let me speak.
My grin was wicked as I flashed him my teeth, his grip rough as he grabbed my throat, his fingers tightening painfully against the blood flaking off my skin.
The sound thick as it forced through a closing gap, the only sound that would escape, "...new..."
Valentine's burn narrowed, leaning in so close I could taste his breath, dry and rancid. "You dare speak to me– swine?"
My Beast knocked on the door.
Her hand still and oh so patient.
And so, I let her in– entirely.
Stars exploded behind my eyes as my forehead connected with Valentine's jaw.
The Prince hissed as he recoiled enough to loosen his grip, the chain clattering to my feet like a cheap toy. She surged in my veins, dulling the ache in my throat and clearing the fog in my mind that kept me complacent. The sound of a blade being dropped, Estelle's eyes wide as they glowed, taking in my form, her dart quick to her Prince– wiping the blood from his mouth, putting the pieces together with his Warden.
The Kina held no strength like this.
The word, a flash in his eyes, whispered only to him. New.
A ripple in his demeanor as he took me in again. Observing with a newfound sense of clarity, watching the black veins under my skin throb with the patience of the immortals. A small voice in the back of my mind– my own.
Don't give him too much.
My eyes flickered over the crowd, Rhazien's confusion, Antonio's steely features, Estelle's horror, and Aramastus' disgust.
Agreed. Too many witnesses.
I felt a presence in my mind, attempting to calm my Beast, the power a remnant of my own. Kin to kin. Valentine crossed his arms, playing the unbothered tyrant again. But I could feel the anger in that touch, his touch. The one that tried to see what I was. The Beast desperately shuttering the windows and locking the doors tight in my mind.
My voice was mine but different– smoother, unfocused on the rasps of breathing as it spoke in a sensual purr. My Beast playing with the lowest tones, "You agreed to a boon, yet I stand presented and independent by your own laws. You punish my Master– your aide with death yet, fail to see how that opens you up for weakness. A brashness that the Deigojar will only attack and further manipulate as your hold on this court slips between your fingers. My Sire's presence will not go unnoticed, and the turmoil you cause today will only sow the seed of doubt for tomorrow.
I interest you enough to not have already killed me for my crimes. You hate what I am but love what I can give you– hence the spectacle. Put on a show to scare me into submission, to tighten the leash on my Master's throat. But you failed to see because of your own audacity– too close to the problem– Kill me, and you can wave off the crime but lose the research. Kill my Master– kill Rhazien, and you lose the source."
The silence was cripplingly long before Valentine laughed, the sound sharp and harsh. A supernatural dread started snaking up my form as his eyes narrowed on my face. "You are either young or stupid to propose a Boon to me."
"Perhaps I'm both." My shoulders shrugged, mimicking the way I had seen Rhazien do it so many times; sloughing the foreboding alarm Valentine radiated from my limbs. "Kill me today, and you'll never know."
The presence still throbbed in my skull, much more powerful than anything I had begun to tap into. The skill of a seasoned orchestra composer vs a kindergartner with a recorder. The haze smoothing over my mind like wet cotton, cold as he thought, my Beast preparing the best she could in her ignorance of his abilities.
Valentine spoke to himself as if confirming the bargain, as if he knew I no longer could control my tongue, "A boon from my Seneschal..." the blanket morphed into razor wire as I cried out– dropping to my knees. The splitting pain tearing my Beast's spine out from under her. "A boon from his Childer..." My eyes forced to bleed as he kept them open, his steps slow towards me, "... and a token– to remind the young neonate about respect."
I couldn't move, my Beast banging against the doors– he had barricaded them from the outside.
Valentine's finger tilted my chin to meet his face, the pleasure emanating off him in sickly sweet tendrils, propping my neck so I was forced to watch Aramastus as he climbed down from the stage.
Rhazien's grunts grew as he started to thrash again against his bonds. My Sire's panicked tones sparking another spasm of fear in my gut.
I couldn't do anything but feel my heart panic, feel it shake in its cage as the Sentinel approached me. His pale skin almost glowing as he flexed his arms, the snakes tattooed against his biceps moving, using his flesh like a river as they slithered down his forearms, coiling around his wrists.
I wanted to scream, wanted to cry as Valentine dug deeper into my mind, forcing me to watch– be still and watch. Aramastus grinned, his canines thick and long in his mouth, part man, part serpent.
Valentine's gravel burst in my ears, "Do not think about killing yourself, girl," The angry ripple of shame slithered down my spine as I thought of the reports, "I have plenty of methods for piecing a corpse back together... And we wouldn't want to have that now, would we?"
Arasmastus' skin shimmered as it morphed, his golden eyes glowing, the snakes curling around his fingers, peeling his skin and flesh back, revealing 5 long talons of jagged bone. His skin lacing backward, unwinding from his hand like a spool, the bone knocking as he flexed them. Tears spilled from my eyes as he pressed the tip of those claws against my chest. My heart– his focus on the slicing pain that drove through my chest, wrenching my blood to run in reverse, the scream caught in my throat.
My heart–
The Sentinel controlled the rhythm as he pushed further into me, his claw burning like the heat of a thousand suns. I could feel my bones rattle in my numbed limbs, paralyzed to feel everything but unable to move. My spine trembled as he broke through my ribs, my Beast gripping whatever semblance of control I had left.
Hold on, girl, you pass out now; you won't know what they'll do.
My heart jumped in its cage as I felt his grip wrap around it–knives, knives in my blood– trapped as he cut the cords.
Silence.
Before the chorus of my body sounded alarms that something most precious had now been stolen... my heart.
Valentine released his grip, and my body fell to the ground in a shuddering heap. My Beast fleeing from my mind to repair the gaping hole in my chest, my breaths habitual as my body craved for normalcy, the hollow so deep I worried I'd never speak again.
Forced to watch, the dripping of my heart in his hand sending shockwaves through my body with each wet slap.
The Sentinel's heels were confident as he bowed, placing my heart between Valentine's feet, retrieving a black handkerchief from his robes to wipe his glossy, wet hand.
I had known what death felt like too many times for one lifetime.
The fire in my veins burned hotter as The Prince toed my flesh, the smile foreign on his tight lips. He plucked it, placing it in a little black velvet sack, tossing it in his palm like a signed baseball. "A fine tribute for loyalty indeed." There was a clatter of keys as Rhazien's bonds were finally released. The Seneschal quickly stood, correcting his lapels, and fixing his hair as if he weren't just on the chopping block for my crimes. Daring not to look at anyone but me because of it.
My blood was still in my veins, the effort so much harder now to coax it to flow– the forced practice finally becoming at ease before. I willed it to my feet, compelling my shaking hands to push up my body, clutching the torn fabric against my chest, closing the gap with a tight fist, and gritting my teeth as I stood, thankful for the borrowed blood in my veins.
Without it–
The Prince was handed a wooden box, the dark varnish glinting in the dim light as he unlocked it, placing my heart inside.
The wood made me nervous.
It was intentional.
The threat of staking by simply destroying the cage it was held in.
At any moment, total immobilization.
Forced to watch the sunrise wherever you may stand.
Valentine locked the box, waving the key before his eyes to accentuate his point. "Displease me again, River Woolf, and tonight will seem like a gift."
Valentine now held total control over my form, over my un-life, and my final death– for the missing piece I finally learned from the journal?
I could not die without my heart.
The Prince slid the key into his front pocket, finally now looking at Rhazien for what I realized was the first time. "Don't think your transgressions go unnoticed, Landau. I expect weekly reports."
I couldn't help how my nose wrinkled in disgust as Rhazien bowed, his face impassive as if this man hadn't just put him up for execution like a cheap party trick. "Yes, my Prince– Thank you."
Valentine hummed, his look of slimy appreciation making me want to crawl out of my skin. This man enjoyed breaking things... and the more defiant, the better.
Rhazien's hands were at my side, rough as he jerked me to follow him, the rest of the court's eyes trained on every minute detail. The bees surged in my mind as he brushed my arm, my body remembering how he, too, had betrayed me. Hissing as I wrenched my arm from his grip, storming out the only pair of doors.
His heeled steps were thunderous behind me as I blurred through the dilapidated concession. The theatre now long abandoned. I didn't know where I was going. But I didn't care anymore.
Get back to the house.
Get my bag.
Leave.
That's the plan.
It's not a very good one.
I pushed against the doors, the familiar escalade running out front. Silently scolding the voice that was getting a little too comfortable in my head.
The grip on my humbling outfit tightened as the cold air wrapped around my legs, the bite uncomfortable until I sent my blood to warm the skin. Refusing to acknowledge Rhazien's glaring loom as I yanked open the door. Ignoring Ezekiel's wide eyes as he turned back to look at the road, Rhazien wordlessly slipped in after me sitting beside the man.
I frowned, feeling something shift in the air. A power dynamic that possibly existed before but was something I could live in ignorance of.
My thumb hovered over the long scar that now rang across my ribs, the skin tight and sensitive– freshly healed.
The SUV started down the street. A lot of things were going to be different now.
I could feel it.
You should probably come up with a better plan then.