NECROSIS (Nerys Newblood Book 2) Read online

  The memory fades, replaced by a new one. This one out of order with the first as I see Joan, a much younger version of herself, petting a kitten in a dusty room. With a sigh, she finishes combing her small fingers through her pet's fur. When she places him upon the floor once more, standing to leave, someone calls her name and she freezes for a moment. Wide eyes turn back to the kitten as she stares down at it in wonder.

  "What did you say?" she asks the kitten. Once more, I cannot hear Obidian. Her eyes close and her brow furrows in confusion. "Spirit guide?" Slowly her eyes open once more and a look of astonishment and slight fear crosses her features. Such clear expression in her eyes, I note, as she takes a step back towards her kitten which scurries away as she collapses upon the dirty ground. "I am a...daimon?" she asks. When she receives her wordless answer, a brilliant smile lights up her face. "And you are my spirit guide?" Though framed like a question, the words are an excited statement.

  Joan buries her head in her hands, and her shoulders stiffen. I wait, confused as to why she appeared, at first, so excited and now so very drawn into herself. Then her whisper reaches me. "Thank you, Gods. Thank you for answering my prayers."

  Gods, how I wish I could ask her what she meant, but in the next breath she answers me anyway. "I'll never have to be alone again."

  The dream memory fades and leaves within me a sense of happiness for Obidian. Though, in the end, they lost each other, I now understand the earlier dreams. The reason behind his binding. The great relief Joan found within him. Though I will never care for Obidian as a lover, the dreams lend a certain hope in my heart, an understanding.

  When I open my eyes and look around me, Titus and Holden have both fallen into a slumber as well. Each of their heads resting on my shoulders and Luca's resting across my legs. It seems as if caring for people we shouldn't is a characteristic we both share.

  Your love isn't forbidden, Obidian says. I struggle not to pull my hands from the guys, though I want to.

  I don't love them, I protest. It's a feeble protest but not because it isn't true. In the way that he means, I don't love them just yet. But the deep caring I feel for each, the kinship, the friendship I feel for all of them combined with the ties that now connect us on a much deeper level through our minds, I know, someday, I will.

  As we travel back towards Matric's kingdom, the lands become more familiar as we jump from tradesman to tradesman, from town to town. Winter is fully upon us now. The trees are barren, their leaves have fallen, and I can feel no warmth left to heal the breach in my soul.

  Each night that I do not dream memories of Obidian's life, I dream of the guys. The dream always begins and ends the same.

  In the dream, we are sitting around a large wooden table, plates piled high with delicious food. We are laughing and talking. Everyone is calm and there is so much happiness in our breath, I can feel it against my skin. It isn’t until the lights above the table start to flicker and the electric bulbs burst, cloaking everything in darkness that I realize something is terribly wrong.

  I don’t want to remember the rest of the dream, but it is as if a dam has broken in my mind and the rest of it spills forward.

  I remain sitting at the table, stunned into silence for several moments before I manage to call out for the guys. I reach out into the darkness, hands brushing the table and three candles flare to life in the center. The guys are gone, and I am alone.

  I clench my teeth, hating the memory of it. I try to open my eyes and dispel it, but a far greater force, much more powerful than any physical strength I possess, refuses to let me leave my memory. The dream continues.

  Obidian sits across from me in his almost human form—though he’ll never be truly human even when he stands on two legs rather than four large, scaled paws. His dark, fiery eyes watch me. He says nothing. Something insidious slithers in the room around us, unseen, but not unfelt.

  I shiver as an icy wind breaks my concentration on recalling the details of the dream.

  I ask Obidian where the others are, but he never answers. Instead, he, too, disappears in a cloud of smoke, rising in long columns to the top of the arching ceiling of the room. One by one, the candles go out. The last one flickers for a long time as I sit in the near darkness before the broken bulbs above illuminate once more—somehow, they are powered by something new, something magical. The table disappears and so does the chair I'm left sitting on. I’m left standing before a great hole, and though I don't want to look down, I do.

  It’s haunting, this dream. I don’t know why it plagues me so, why it returns every night, and now, why it breaks into my memories like a thief wanting to steal away the precious time I have away from it.

  The pit reveals dull gray eyes that stare eerily back at me. Coen's are the only open eyes I see as he lies sprawled at the bottom of the hole surrounded by the bodies of Booker, Titus, Holden, and Luca. Horror chokes my throat and ricochets through my mind as I scream and scream and scream.

  I clench my lips shut and refuse to let the dream me’s screams become real in this moment. I force my eyelids open and stare, unseeing, at the space in front of me.

  The chilling memories of the nightmare refuse to let me rest, and they sit like stones on my consciousness. It has taken us far less time to travel back to Matric's city than it did running from it.

  My cheeks are chilled as I look up to the colored sky and a single tear leaks out. The dream is my punishment, I know. It must be. It is the combination of all my fears brought to life. I wonder if Coen is still alive, if he will be when we reach him. My worry for him and for the others is likely what's causing the dreams. I would like to mention the possibility of Booker creating a tonic that will get rid of them, but I can tell he's grown weary of the travel as well.

  I turn to look back over my shoulder. All the way in the back of the camp we've set up, a few miles from our destination, Booker rests against a massive tree root. With his head tipped forward, his chin to his chest, he looks so exhausted. Holden snores quietly and rolls over, drawing my gaze to the rich brown hair that's so dark it’s almost black, sticking out from beneath his covers.

  Before, I would have run off at a moment’s notice if it meant I could save Coen, but now I know that I’ve made a decision that affects all of them, and I cannot take it back. The guilt, I feel, will forever eat me alive—until it consumes me, body and soul; unless I can do something about it. I know that they often catch glimpses of my thoughts, though I try not to let any slip down our bonds. Even Luca catches them through his bond with Booker. My fears and worries and dreams, I know, are likely adding to their own stress.

  Shame riddles my bones. I am unworthy of them. No matter how much they protest, I know it. They are bound to me as I am to them. All because I needed to see that they were safe. I should have trusted them more. But the biggest regret I have is that Coen is the only one I can't see or hear. And he is who I need most right now.

  "I can almost see dragon's smoke coming from your ears," a deep voice says.

  Luca hovers nearby, shadows under his warm green eyes. Even with the lack of rest, his features show only minimal strain. I wonder if that has to do with his shapeshifter blood. He sidles up closer to me and I sigh as the heat emanating from his body warms mine. Luca opens his arms and I shiver as I look at them longingly before shaking my head.

  "What's going on in your head, little daimon?" he asks, dropping his arms.

  I turn back to the scenery, watching as the sun's rays send a kaleidoscope of colors across the sky. "I'm sure you already know," I reply.

  He shakes his head. "He's asleep," Luca smirks and gestures back at Booker, "and even if he wasn't, I would never intrude on your privacy like that."

  I flinch because that's exactly what I did to them. I didn't just "intrude" on their privacy though. I busted down the door, welcomed myself inside, and set up shop.

  "Coen's strong," Luca says when I don't reply, cutting right down to the core of my worries. "He will make it."
r />   "And if he doesn't?" I choke out. My nails dig into the palms of my hands, leaving little half moons of red indentions in my skin.

  Luca moves closer, his whisper hovering over my ear. "He will, little daimon. He will."

  The others rise not long after us, and soon we are once again making our way towards the kingdom. The dead grass under our feet and the barren branches over our heads almost deceive me into believing that we have never seen these roads before. When we pass by the barn that Titus, Holden, Coen, and I spent our first free night in, I don't recognize it. It takes Holden pointing it out for me to realize just how close we are.

  Our speed increases.

  2

  Changes in Euron

  Being back in Matric's kingdom is surreal. It’s made even more surreal by how easy it is to get back within the kingdom's walls compared to how hard it was to leave. Months of planning only to be interrupted by two strangers who are strangers no more, but friends—perhaps more. Booker, Holden, and Titus watch the people surrounding us on the streets with calculating gazes.

  Luca looks around and leans down to whisper in my ear. “This is truly where you are from?” He tilts his head to the side as if listening for some quiet music to begin playing. The only sound is the whistle of the wind.

  I nod stiffly. We’re only a few blocks over from where Coen and I used to eat, sleep, and live up until a few weeks ago. But over a fortnight ago, I lived in fear. Fear of being found out, of being persecuted, of being imprisoned and killed because of what I am. Now, I don't care if I'm imprisoned. Maybe if I'm imprisoned, we will be able to find Coen quicker.

  I don't voice that little idea though as I'm steered out of the way of an approaching woman clothed entirely in black.

  That's odd, I think.

  You've got that right, Holden replies.

  I jump, startled, and shoot him a glare. He grimaces and shrugs.

  "Sorry," he says.

  "Stay out of my head," I grit.

  I know it's not his fault, but it’s fear that drives me to snap at him. It feels too much like an invasion of privacy and Gods know that I don’t have any. But not just that, I fear what he may see deep inside my head. It’s not exactly a pretty place to reside. I sigh, looking up at him, but he isn’t looking in my direction anymore. Fresh guilt heats my chest as I go back to taking in our surroundings.

  "Where are we going, Nerys?" Booker asks, redirecting my attention. I focus on him. Yes, that's my job right now. We need a place to go. A place to make a plan. My eyes move over the whitewashed buildings. Once, this place was a den of shadows that I escaped and every corner seemed filled with monsters. That was an innocent’s vision, I realize. And though it’s been such a short time since my first escape from this place, I feel changed. Older. Still, I can’t help but want to go back to the past if only for a few hours. Just to see if it was truly as dark as I remember.

  "This way." I move into the street and across to the other side. "Coen's place isn't far. It's got a red door. You'll know it when you see it." They follow behind. More people pass us by, even soldiers. When the latter passes, I duck quickly behind Booker and Luca, the two tallest members of our group, my heart racing. But they never even glance my way. It's strange.

  "They're all in mourning," Titus says suddenly. He's so quiet that sometimes when he speaks it scares me. This time, it only confuses me.

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  He gestures to the people. Almost all of them are wearing some form of black. I look down at my own clothes. I was forced to change after the unbinding ceremony, but by who I don't recall. Having not changed since, our clothes are so dusty from the journey that we nearly pass for wearing the same colors. I don't even remember if the shirt I'm wearing is supposed to be navy blue or the splotchy dirt brown that it is.

  "Black is the general color to wear when in mourning," Titus explains. "But what's odd is that more than half of the people we've seen so far are wearing it. It wouldn't stand out so much if only a few people were wearing it, but when I lived here, there was certainly more color than this." I blink at him. "What?" he asks, looking down at himself.

  "Nothing," I say, flushing. "I just forget, sometimes."

  "Forget what?" he asks.

  "That you're from here too."

  "Nerys," Holden's sudden call interrupts Titus' reply. "Is that the place you were talking about?" He points to Coen's shack down the street.

  I stop on the corner. Coen's shack is destroyed. Well, not so much destroyed as it is unlivable. The soldiers must have come through here. The door is completely off its hinges, lying on its side under the front window, which has been bashed in. The remaining glass fragments litter the ground beneath it. Smoke wafts from the open doorway and the window as a small, scrawny man shuffles along the sidewalk around the side of the little wooden and stone hut. He enters through the doorway without looking around, telling me that he's been doing it for a while now.

  "We can't stay there," Booker says. He looks to Holden. "Do you still have a place here?"

  I want to smack my forehead. Damn it, I keep forgetting that both Holden and Titus are from Matric's kingdom. I look over at him hopefully, but he's already shaking his head.

  "No," he says. "I don't trust them around Nerys." I blink, but we're already moving away from the shack. Holden's hand comes down across my back as I peek over my shoulder. The door still has the phrase that I wrote on it so many months before.

  "I know where we can go," Titus says.

  Booker doesn't hesitate. "Lead the way," he says. And Titus does.

  When we come back to the upper main street, he leads us further into the upper town, where the wealthy tradesmen and merchants live. He takes us several streets over and we stop near a townhouse that's connected to several others. The front has a small potted garden with a wrought iron fence in front. Titus leans over and searches through the garden, tipping up pots until he finds a key under one. He picks up the key and moves to unlock the front door.

  "Will anyone know that we're here?" Booker asks.

  Titus shakes his head as he inserts the key and turns the lock. "My mother is the only one who lives here. The only person who would visit her is my father, and he never does. Before I left, his wife had just passed. I'm sure she's already spending most of her time with him."

  The door opens and the inside is a small, but quaint little foyer. A narrow staircase leads from the end of the tiled entrance to the second floor. To the side is a living room and kitchen combination.

  We file in and Titus shuts the door behind us. "There's only three bedrooms. So, we'll have to share," he says.

  I shake my head, striding into the living room and whirling around to face them. "No, no sleeping," I insist. "We're going to figure out a plan, and then we're going after Coen." I can only imagine what’s being done to him.

  The guys stand there, crowded in the foyer, all of their eyes on me. Booker is the first to step forward. "Nerys, we need to take a break. We've been traveling for days. We're tired, you're tired."

  "Coen is somewhere in this city," I say, “and he's not with us." I look at each and every one of them. If it were any of them, I would be just as adamant. I haven’t known them for nearly as long, but I know I’d come for them. I feel it in my bones. "Do you know what they're probably doing to him in the dungeons?" I suppress a shudder.

  Booker winces as Holden moves forward, trying to take me in his arms. I slap his hands away and back up. "No," I state firmly. "If it were you, I would act the same way. I don't want to leave him there any longer than we absolutely have to."

  "We don't either," Titus replies. "We promise you, Nerys. We will rescue him. But Booker is right, we need to take a break. We can't run ourselves ragged. If we go now, not only is it daylight, but we run the risk of making mistakes. Mistakes that can get us caught."

  My shoulders lift and fall and I huff out a breath. I squeeze my eyes shut, bringing my hands up to push my palms against my closed eyelids.
An ache begins in my temples and builds. I bite my lip as a tear leaks out around my palm. Raw air sucks into my throat, and I release my lip to grit my teeth.

  "Hey." Holden's hands smooth over my shoulders as he pulls me to his chest. I drop my arms and crush my face against his pecs as more tears fall. "We'll get him back, Princess."

  "We can take shifts," Booker offers. "Holden and I can take the first shift. We’ll scout out the city. Find out what's going on, hopefully find out where they're keeping him."

  I rub my nose against Holden's shirt as I nod. "Okay," I manage to choke out. When I look up at Holden, he's smiling.

  "Did you just rub your snot on me?" he teases.

  I jump back, smacking his arm. "No!" I hiss, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt.

  "Okay, come on," Booker says. "If we're going to do this. We might as well head out now. I think Titus is right about the people. Something’s up and I want to find out what it is. Nerys, stay here with Titus and Luca. We will be back soon."

  By the time Holden and Booker disappear out the front door again, I feel exhausted, even more so than right after the unbinding ceremony. I was all geared up and ready for a fight and then the tears set in and I let Holden hug me. Now, I'm trying to force my eyes to remain open as Titus ushers me towards the staircase and up the solid wooden stairs and into a luxurious bathroom the likes of which I've never seen before.

  There's a porcelain claw-foot tub, running water, and...are the handles on the sinks gold?! Titus hands me a towel and a shirt that I can only assume is one of the guys'. When I stare down at the bundle in my arms, his lips twitch. His blue eyes are tired as well, with shadows stretching beneath them. I turn around and set the towel and shirt to the side along the edge of the sink before I look back at him.

  "There's soap bars in the cupboard along the wall." He gestures absently, rubbing a hand through his golden hair.