Blood Hunt

Page 27

If it weren’t for his carefully developed sense of duty, Iain would have let her. But he had to survive. The lives of too many of his brothers depended on it.
“You really want to watch it die?” he asked her.
“No. I really don’t. It breaks my heart and tears me up inside. I still see the faces of each one of the babies we lost in those caves. When he’s gone, I’ll see his, too.”
“And you’re certain he’ll die?”
“As certain as I am that I’ll shoot you in the head if you take another step closer.”
He nodded. Fine. Let her have her way. If she wanted to watch the thing die a slow death, that was her business. But it wasn’t something Iain could tolerate.
He walked out, got behind the wheel of Paul’s ride, and took off without them. Let them find their own way. He had things to do.
Jackie stepped outside, making sure Iain was gone. As fast as he was driving, she didn’t think he was coming back.
Good. She didn’t like the way he made her feel, all soft and weak.
She cuddled the baby close, seeking the comfort of its tiny presence. As short as his life would be, there was still magic in it. She’d seen it over and over. Women found love they never would have known without those few hours with their children. Their heartbreak was soul-crushing, but for those few hours, they were happy and knew a special kind of peace only a baby could bring.
Jackie stared down at him, uncovering his face just enough so that he could see the sun. None of the others had ever had that joy and she wanted to share it with him.
“See,” she said, holding his little body upright. “That’s the sun. Isn’t it pretty?”
The baby blinked and started crying like the light hurt his eyes. She hadn’t thought about that, though she probably should have. His father would have hated sunlight.
She tugged the towel up to shield his eyes and noticed that as soon as she did, the black plumes rioted in his eyes as if the sun had held them back.
A spark of hope lit inside her. She tugged the towel down again, letting sunlight spill onto his soft head without shining directly into his eyes.
The plumes shrank and disappeared.
Holding her breath, she covered and uncovered him several times. The black in his eyes responded as if hiding from the light.
Maybe the sun was the key. Maybe all those babies in the caves died because they had no sun.
She didn’t dare get her hopes up too high, but she allowed herself enough to fight back the desolate surety of death. This child could survive. The odds weren’t good, but it was possible.
If he was to survive, he needed two special things: She needed to get him somewhere safe—back to Dabyr, where the Synestryn couldn’t reach him and there were Sanguinar around to help keep him alive. And he needed a name.
Hacksaw’s mind burned with the information the master had put into it. Even the pain of such a gift was its own kind of pleasure. He’d gained the notice of the master, which was something he’d only dreamed about.
A thread of power connected the two of them, allowing Hacksaw to feel closer to the master than he ever had before. And while that leash hurt, he reveled in the agony that would allow him to please the master.
Hacksaw went where he was led, driving into the city as fast as he dared. By the time he found the building where the master had seen the woman, the sun was already bright in the sky.
Sunlight streamed through his car windows, blocking some of the pain screaming in his mind. For a split second, Hacksaw remembered a time before the master. He’d been happy then. He hadn’t hurt. He hadn’t been afraid.
And then, as quick as the feeling came, it was gone again, leaving Hacksaw disoriented.
Had there been a time before the master? If so he didn’t want to know about it. That time wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was obedience.
A search of the run-down building showed no signs of the woman. There was only one young man there, huddled in a corner against the cold.
Hacksaw grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.
The man cried out in fear and batted at Hacksaw’s hands. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m looking for a woman. Pretty. Blond. She was here last night.”
“I don’t know about any woman. I only found this place today. I wasn’t here last night. I swear.”
“You’re lying.”
“No. I’m—”
Hacksaw pulled out a switchblade and shoved it against the man’s throat. “Tell me where she is or I trigger the blade.”
The man started to blubber. “I swear I don’t know.”
Hacksaw’s thumb moved to the switch.
The man’s words tumbled from his mouth, almost too fast to hear. “It could be Hope. She’s blond. I’ve seen her on the streets trying to get people to come to a homeless shelter where she works.”
“Where?”
“A few blocks north. I could show you.”
Hacksaw moved the knife and let go of the man. He shoved him toward the door. “Show me.”
The man led him through back alleys until they reached the shelter. It was an aging building that someone had tried to keep from decaying. The sign out front was plain, its paint fading, welcoming all who came.
Hacksaw spun the young man so he was in front of him, facing away. Then he slit his throat. Blood arced onto the pavement, but it didn’t touch Hacksaw’s clothes. He didn’t want anything rousing the suspicion of those inside, including this kid.
A few seconds later, the guy had bled out and wasn’t nearly so messy. Hacksaw dumped him in a trash bin, covering him with garbage. Someone would find him soon, so he didn’t have much time to get the job done.
He walked around to the front entrance and went inside to find the master’s woman.
Sibyl stumbled over her feet as she crossed her bedroom floor. She fell into the small table where she used to take tea, bumping her arm hard enough that it went numb for a moment.
She didn’t fit in the little wooden chairs anymore. She was sure she’d grown more overnight, despite the fact that her mother’s clothes still fit the same. The gray silk gown clung to her new curves, and no matter how long she looked at herself in the mirror, this body still seemed alien to her.
For centuries she’d wanted to grow up and be normal. She’d never thought that doing so would cause her to pay such a high price.
Sibyl hugged the porcelain doll to her chest and sat on the edge of her bed. She’d always been able to reach her sister, Maura, before. Even when she wasn’t invited. But now, even with the doll that looked like her sister to help strengthen the link, she couldn’t get through. It was as if there was no one on the other end of the line—all she heard was silence.
She refused to believe that Maura had died. Sibyl would have known if she had.
Wouldn’t she?
Cain knocked on her door. “I brought you food.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to leave it outside as he’d been doing, but instead, she heard a tool rattle in the lock on her door.
Sibyl raced across the room to prevent him from opening it, but her clumsy body thwarted her. She didn’t pick up her too-long feet far enough and ended up stubbing her toe. She tried to catch her balance, but that only made things worse.
She toppled forward, barely missing the edge of her dresser as she fell.
Her bedroom door opened and Cain stood there with a tray in his hands, staring for a long moment.
Then he dropped the tray and drew his sword. It became visible as he pointed it down at her, thrusting the tip toward her face. “Who are you and where the hell is Sibyl?”
She stayed there, frozen for a moment, trying to ignore the pain in her stubbed toes and wrists. They’d been taking a beating over the last few days as she struggled to adjust to her new size.
Slowly, so she wouldn’t set him off, Sibyl pushed herself up. She kept her giant hands in sight and lifted her chin to look into his eyes. She was as tall as his shoulder now, when she’d always come only to his waist, and seeing him from this height was odd.
“I am Sibyl.”
The tip of his sword dipped, then fell to his side. The look of shock on his face was almost comical. His dark green eyes widened and he leaned forward as if the distance was causing him to hallucinate.
“Sibyl?”
She nodded, feeling her hair sway around her thighs. It had grown as well, and she hadn’t dared ask for scissors to cut it, fearing he’d get worried and barge in here.
Like he had just now. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“You’re a grown woman. How did this happen?”
A flutter of grief passed through her. She’d thought she’d grieved for her parents when she’d seen the vision of their deaths years ago, but the past few days had proven her wrong. Now, facing the man who’d seen to her protection for longer than her own father, she felt unwanted tears burning in her eyes.
She willed them away and straightened her spine. “I believe Gilda’s death freed me from the prison of that child’s body.”
“How?”
“I can only guess, but I believe that whatever magic she wrought to keep Maura and me small was destroyed the night of her death.”
“Your mother freed you?” said Cain, staring openly at her.
Sibyl had long since stopped referring to Gilda as her mother. Cain knew that and yet he persisted in constantly reminding her of their relationship. “Or simply confined me to a new prison. This body is defective.”
“Defective? How?”
“I’m hungry all the time. I fall constantly. Look,” she said, shoving up the too-short sleeves of the inherited gown. Dozens of bruises marred her arms. She raised the hem of her skirt, showing even more bruises on her shins. “This isn’t normal.”
“In days you’ve gone from a small child to an adult. There’s bound to be adjustment issues.”
“Perhaps,” she allowed.
Cain recovered an apple from the discarded tray and wiped it on his sleeve. “Here. Eat this. I’ll get you something else in a minute. But first you’ve got to tell me why you were hiding. I can understand how you wouldn’t feel like celebrating, considering how this happened, but why would you hide it from me?”
Sibyl bit into the apple, unable to resist the offer of food. “I didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, I was worried as hell, wondering if you were in here crying all day and night. At least this is something I can deal with.”
He kept staring, his eyes going from the top of her head to her bare feet. She felt like some kind of zoo animal put on display. And that was with Cain—the man she trusted more than any other in the world. Once the others saw her, she was going to feel even worse.
“We need to get you some different clothes. Something that fits. And I need to tell Joseph. Your change has a lot of implications.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that now that your body has caught up with your mind, you may be compatible with one of the men.”
No. Sibyl wasn’t ready for that. She’d lived as a child for hundreds of years. She wasn’t willing to step from that directly into the role of wife. She needed some time. Some freedom.