NECROSIS (Nerys Newblood Book 2) Page 10

  I turn over slightly and pat his chest, shaking him to wake him up. Luca's eyes pop open and he looks at me, relief covering his features. "Little daimon," he whispers the words lovingly and pulls me tight—my face to his chest now.

  I sigh against his massive chest and push back a bit. "Where are we?" I ask. "What happened?"

  "You're at the Holy Sanctuary," an unfamiliar voice answers from the doorway.

  I look over and sit up in the strange bed with Luca at my back as Booker and Coen enter behind the tall man and woman with braids running from the tops of their heads down to their waists. I blink, confused. They look so much alike that it might be difficult to tell their gender if it wasn't for the man's dark curly beard and the woman's form-fitting white dress.

  "Glad to see you're awake," the woman says, coming forward with a smile. She places a tray on the bed filled with drink and food. I stare down at the tray before looking back at her.

  "Um...thank you?" I hesitantly reach for what looks like a piece of meat and eat it. Flavor bursts on my tongue and I withhold a groan as I savor it before reaching for a bite of cheese.

  Booker moves forward, Coen following as they walk around the man and woman. "Nerys, this is the priest and priestess of the Holy Sanctuary."

  "My name is Amoni," the woman says, nodding her head to me.

  I nod back awkwardly. I'm not sure why I do it, but it feels appropriate, like it's what I'm supposed to do. I take another bite of cheese and, as they talk, I polish off half the plate before pushing it away when I’m full.

  "I am T'skan," the man says. "We've been expecting you for a long time now."

  "You have?" I ask, surprised. I turn, looking to Booker and Coen. Coen returns my gaze with an uncertainty that does not make me feel better. Booker, for his part, however, does look calm.

  "Oh yes," Amoni answers. "The Gods come to our Sanctuary quite frequently, blessing us with their knowledge."

  "We were commanded by our Lords to train for battle," T'skan says. "The Earth and Sun made it quite clear that a great darkness was coming, a change in the lower ranks of divinity."

  "What do you mean?" I sit up straighter, sliding closer to the edge of the bed and leaving Luca’s warmth and safety. "The Gods came to you and told you this?"

  Amoni nods fervently. "Oh yes, I expect that Ngame herself will come soon, too. I have a feeling she's quite interested in you, Daimon."

  I stiffen when she says that. "My name is Nerys," I snap. Almost immediately, I regret my sharp tone, but I don't know how to apologize, so I let the silence lingering in the room just...remain. As the discomfort and tension in the room grow stale, Amoni moves forward and smiles down at me. She doesn't seem particularly offended as she reaches out and takes my hand, helping me from the bed. I look down when fabric flutters down to my ankles, and I realize someone must have changed me while I was unconscious.

  "Come," she says, "let us show you what we've prepared."

  I don't have a chance to try and wiggle away before she's gliding past Coen and Booker and tugging me from the room. She's stronger than she looks. What I thought were thin, underdeveloped arms, I realize, are lean muscles. Even when I try to tug out of her hold once more, she doesn't let me go. I'm forced to follow along with her as she leads me down a large stone corridor. A glance to the side reveals an open balcony. Tall columns of stone hold up the open veranda as we stride into the cold.

  Down below, I see an open stone courtyard. Men and woman dressed in pale cloth practice swordsmanship. The clang of meeting blades echoes upward. I turn to Amoni.

  "No guns?" I ask.

  She shakes her head. "We have them, but the Gods do not like them. They are for emergencies only."

  "The soldiers have guns," I inform her. "If you rescued us, you must know that."

  Amoni looks down at me, her hand patting my arm as she pulls me to a staircase leading down into the open courtyard. "Yes, but we have magic."

  I blink. "You have magic that stops bullets?"

  She laughs at my expression. "We have a magic barrier that incapacitates firearms. Unfortunately, it does not work so well on non-mechanics like swords and arrows. The Holy Order isn't necessarily an organization that likes to restrict its members. Men and women are free to come and go, have relationships, start businesses. We're an Order of love and understanding. Before Ngame, we were mostly just worshippers of the Gods. After her, we became so much more."

  "Oh?" I grimace. I recall the Holy Women that had raised Coen and me. They had been gracious, certainly, in raising many orphaned children, but Matric’s kingdom—Euron, I mean—had been a different place. So far behind the rest of the world—cut off from the growth and technology unless you were directly linked to the palace by way of birth or military career.

  Amoni slides a glance my way as we finally reach the end of the stairs. She holds up a hand, stopping the practice and I look up, realizing that Holden and Titus are there, among the others. They, too, have changed. Their shoulders rise and fall as they pant, the swords in their fists looking heavy.

  "Everyone, I would like to introduce the daimon, Nerys," Amoni calls.

  My eyes widen, and my cheeks start to heat. I cough once, looking away from the dozens of eyes that descend on me then.

  "We have waited for her arrival for many moons," Amoni continues, "and now we know that the day the Gods predicted will likely soon be upon us."

  I look up at her as her voice lowers an octave. Amoni stares out over the crowd that has gathered before us as she reaches up, her hands outstretched towards the sky. “It has come, my friends,” she lowers her hands and looks out with a small smile, “my comrades.” They watch her with respect, with reverence. She has a command that I have never known over anyone. I find myself enraptured by her speech as she continues. “With the arrival of the daimon—the first in so long—the prophecy of Ngame is coming true. Our spirit—the spirit of this temple—will remain, though many of us will fall in the coming battle.”

  “B-battle?” I stumble out, horrified. She doesn’t respond to me, instead choosing to keep her gaze forward.

  “On this day, in the coming nights, we prepare for war!” Amoni calls over the group below. Several raise their fists, their swords clutched in their hands, and give a cry in response. “We prepare to protect what is ours. We protect our families, our friends, our temple, our lives! We protect the sanctity of the Gods!”

  “Hail Ngame!” Several people shout.

  I stare, open-mouthed.

  Amoni turns to me. “Now, it is your turn, daimon—Nerys. You will step down from this place and you will train with us. Our people will fight with you.”

  “A-against what?” I stutter out.

  Amoni turns her gaze outward once more, looking past the crowd cheering below us, past the gates of the Holy Order’s sanctuary to the snow-covered mountains in the beyond. “You will help us fight against the coming darkness.”

  I regret my words even as they spill into my brain and out of my mouth, but at the same time, I know I have to say them. I cannot stop myself from saying them. “What if I don’t?”

  Amoni’s eyes snap back to my face, serious and entrancing like twin living pools of emotion, overflowing with sparks of danger. My breath catches in my chest. “Or else it will be the end of all souls, of all spirits. The end of Ngame and of your friends.”

  Shock echoes down to my very core. Fear—the kind I only thought I knew like an old friend—reaches for me, tentacles wrapping around me like an insidious lover. Because I know her words to be true. She’s right. If I don’t fight with them, if I don’t find a way to stop Edwin, it’s not just me that will suffer. It’s not just the guys. I turn my gaze back to the yard as the soldiers and holy men and women go back to their training. Holden and Titus stare up at me. One gaze as rich as freshly turned soil, the other as deep as the far-off ocean. My fear is not truly for myself, I realize. That is why it’s so much stronger than before. I’m scared for them. For Coen and Luca an
d Booker too.

  I don’t know if I can win, and I don’t know what will happen to them if I don’t.

  10

  The Favor

  “Hey.” I lift my head as Luca steps just inside the door of the room I woke up in hours before. Now, everyone is off somewhere else. Booker and Coen with Amoni and T’skan. Holden and Titus are still training somewhere. And Luca is here, with me, apparently. “I came to see how you're doing?”

  “How I’m doing?” I repeat with a sigh. “I don’t know. As well as can be expected, all things considered.”

  “Considering that you have King Matric’s son coming for your head?”

  I chuckle under my breath. Leave it to Luca to be so perfectly blunt. “Yeah.” Except...I didn’t think he was coming after me to kill me.

  Luca tilts his head to the side.

  “What?” I ask.

  But he just shakes his head and smiles at me. “It’s nothing.” He nods to the head of the bed. “Why don’t we lay down?”

  Exhaustion rolls through my muscles. I can’t say it doesn’t sound like a good idea, but… “Or are you afraid of laying with me?”

  I blush. I can’t tell if he’s reading my mind or if I’m just that obvious. Plus, the way he said it suggests…I let that thought trail away, unsure where I want to go with it or if I even want to finish it.

  “Can you still hear my thoughts?” I ask instead. I had thought that my walls were holding. I wasn’t actively thinking about them any longer, and it had seemed that what I had done with my mind palace—directing all of my thoughts into that secret place—had been working, but if he—

  “No,” he says, interrupting my rambling thoughts and worries. “You’re blocking well. Even Booker commented on the silence that comes from you when he tries to hear your thoughts.”

  “He tries to hear my thoughts?” I frown at him.

  Luca smiles in return. “We all do. We want to know what you’re thinking. You aren’t very forthcoming.”

  I snort. “I think Coen would say that I’m too blunt,” I argue.

  “Maybe.” Luca slides onto the bed next to me. “Or maybe you were at one point.” I stiffen at the implication he suggests with unspoken words.

  “But no longer,” I finally say.

  His smile is understanding, but a part of me—a bitter, angry part, I concede—knows that he can’t possibly understand me. No one but another daimon could.

  “Come,” Luca says, reaching for my hand and tugging me into his lap as he reclines against the pillows. “You need rest.”

  “I need a lot more than that,” I mutter.

  “True,” he concedes, “but rest is a start.”

  After everything, I’m just too exhausted to argue. Rest does sound nice. I lean my head against his chest, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. His heartbeat thrums steadily in my ears, lulling me into a sense of security that I so rarely feel now. It's inviting. It's enticing. It's just the right kind of oblivion I needed.

  I wake slightly when Luca moves from the bed. My hands automatically reach out, seeking his warmth and security. I feel lips on my forehead, but when I try to open my eyes all I see is a tall, hulking blur of a person. A stream of light filters in from the hallway—flickering like a candle. No, I think, not a candle. It's a torch. One of the torches that line the outside corridors.

  "Sleep, little daimon. I'll return in the morning," Luca says.

  I mumble an incoherent response, wanting to roll over and go back to sleep and also wanting to wake up and figure out where he's going so late. Exhaustion wins, however, and I fall back into the dark oblivion of my dreams.

  Smoke billows out from the recesses of my mind, curling around me, lulling me down deeper into the darkness. I go willingly. My body is too weak to resist. I don't realize what's happening until I feel chains snapping around my limbs and I'm transported into a darkened chamber. My eyes burst open and I jerk my head around. Nothing about the room claims my immediate recognition. I can hear my breath echoing in my ears and then footsteps sounding somewhere far behind me, coming closer and closer.

  I seek out the bond with the guys—but nothing comes. Are my walls too high? Have they grown too thick? Did I cut them off? What's happening? Why can't I reach them?

  Fear permeates the air around me. Chills dance across my naked skin. I look down and realize that even my clothes have changed. They've disappeared, leaving me in nothing but a threadbare gown that's so thin, it's practically translucent. I close my eyes, even as the footsteps grow ever closer, and reach out for Obidian.

  I'm... here... His voice is faint, but relief slides through me at the sound of his deep baritone.

  Obi! I call out. I can hear my own mental voice loud and clear. It's screaming, panicked.

  Where... His voice trails off again, inciting a soul-deep anxiety.

  Don't go! Obi? Can you hear me?

  ...where you... Nerys... hear me?

  He's asking if I can hear him. Can he hear me? I try to reach out again, to reaffirm my connection to him. It's odd. The connection has been so constant, but now, as I reach towards him, I feel a firmness between us, a wall. Walls shoot up all around me, resembling a familiar place, a place I built, myself. My mind palace. My safe haven. But it’s no longer what it once was, there’s nothing left in the room I designed except emptiness and walls and columns surrounding me. I turn towards where the door should be, but it’s not there. I walk towards the empty stretch of wall and slam my body against it, lashing out in hope and in fear. This isn’t my mind palace—it’s been violated by something other. An other that shakes the very foundation of the floor I walk on. I kick, scream, scratch, claw at the walls around me—nothing seems to work, and then the footsteps stop and I realize they're right behind me. A bolt of ice skitters down my spine.

  "I wouldn't bother reaching out," Edwin says, his voice like a dull blade digging at my insides. "I've ensured that we won't be interrupted this time."

  He circles around me, looking polished and put together. For someone who now commands an army, he certainly doesn't look the part. In fact, if I were to see him on the street, I would keep walking. Edwin looks so unassuming, so quiet, and normal. That's what scares me the most about him. How he can look like an average person and, yet, when I glance at his eyes—I see a darkness that threatens to drag me into the deepest depths of despair. My heart stutters in my chest as he reaches out and fingers a lock of my hair, lifting it away from my shoulder and holding it.

  "I wish I could really touch you," he says. I close my mouth and stare at him, refusing to give him anything. He leans down, bringing my lock of hair closer to his nose. I notice he's not wearing gloves now. His hands are pale, fingers long and elegant. He's actually not that handsome. There's nothing unique about him aside from his eyes. But he does appear refined. Hands made for instruments. Shoulders straightened as though he hasn't worked a day in his life, as though there’s been no weight to drag him down. Oh, how I want to drag him down.

  "Have you thought about my offer?" he asks, dropping my hair and stepping back. He straightens and moves his hands behind his back, standing as if he were a soldier. I eye him warily.

  Instead of answering his question, I ask one of my own. "How are you doing this?"

  He tilts his head, looking at me curiously. "This?"

  I nudge my chin at the room. "How did you get in here. You’re too far away, there’s no way you…” I pause. Even though I know his soldiers were the ones to attack us at the base of the mountain, I still hesitate to tell him exactly where I am. He probably already knows, but on the off chance he doesn't... “this has to be a dream,” I finally finish.

  He smiles—a cool, chilling movement of expression. He, too, looks around the chamber. "Ever since my father passed, I've found that my powers are growing at exponential rates. I can assure you that I am here with you, Nerys. No matter my distance, I can find you." His eyes return to me, locking me into place in a way that is more impossible to br
eak than chains. "You and I are connected, Nerys. Won't you join me?"

  I shake my head. "This is a mistake," I say. To my own embarrassment, my voice shakes.

  Edwin sighs, his smile falling away. "Truly, I had hoped to hear something before I entered the sanctuary."

  "T-the sanctuary?" I stutter.

  He shoots me a look. "Of course. I know where you are, Nerys. I've always known. I had hoped that you would come to me willingly. But I suppose this isn't such a poor secondary option. I am curious to know what my abilities can do, after all. This will be the perfect test."

  My mouth drops open as his arms come down to his sides and he spreads them wide, stretching his fingers out. I suck in a breath as ice invades my veins. I feel something dark and sinister crawling up through my limbs, sucking the life away. Everything feels so cold. I gasp for breath, the struggles against my chains are weak and pathetic.

  "Ahhh," Edwin sighs, "I can feel your life. I want it. It smells so good. I bet you'd taste divine. You are a piece of divinity after all. Let me have some more."

  I cry out as sharp freezing talons sink into my gut. I feel as though I'm being ripped apart. I cry out for Obidian but receive nothing but that damnable wall. I resist crying out to the others. I'm afraid to. I don't want him to reach them through me. I bite down on my tongue until the copper taste of blood fills my mouth.

  "Just a bit more, I want—" Edwin pauses, as though someone has cut him off.

  I pant as the barbed icicles of pain slowly melt away. I raise my head. Edwin's mouth is aghast. He stares at me in utter confusion. The whites of his eyes widen around his dark iris and he bites out a foul curse. "No," he snaps and, this time, instead of finishing me with whatever powers he's using, he physically reaches for me only for me to be wrenched away.