Redemption (6 page)

Time has no meaning in this pit.
 
There is no light, save from the dwindling candle flickering from a rusted wall sconce beyond the cell bars.
 
The drip of wax against the uneven stone floor in the hallway is the only measure of time.
 

The near darkness is maddening.
 
The sensation of knives grazing her skin has been nearly constant since Lucien sank his teeth into her neck.
 
Her blood feels like it’s simmering in her veins and the gaping wounds in her hands, arms and abdomen keep her in a constant state of agony and weakness.

She is no longer in the torture chamber.
 
Sometime after she passed out she was moved here, to this stinking, damp pit.
 

Roseline shifts, tucking her legs up into a fetal position as she clamps her eyes shut against the pain gnawing through the lining of her stomach.
 
Her throat is parched, and despite her best efforts, she can no longer deny the scent wafting through the air.
 

She casts a feral glance at the body lying nearby.
 
Blonde hair.
 
Long legs.
 
A small pink heart tattoo crests just over the waist of grungy low-rise jeans.
 
The girl was probably a college student thumbing her way across Europe.
 
At least, Roseline hopes she was that old.

Even through the halo of hair, Roseline can tell the girl’s neck is broken.
 
The blood that runs down the crown of her head has begun to congeal.
 
Her warmth is fading, but that makes her blood no less desirable in Roseline’s current state.
 

She wishes for the candlelight to snuff out so she won’t have to look at the body anymore, but even without sight, she will be unable to forget every minute detail of the dead girl.
 
She has been the biggest temptation Lucien has thrown at Roseline so far.
 

The first three cups of blood left at her cell door are now splashed across the far wall.
 
Thick trails of crimson creep down the stone toward the packed dirt floor.
 
Next came a sheep, its throat slit so deeply its head dangles by a single tendon.
 
Its rotting corpse remains untouched near the cell entrance, but the girl…she is new.
 

One taste, just one, would ease Roseline’s suffering, but it would also spark her transformation.
 
Lucien won’t allow Roseline’s rebellion to linger much longer.
 
Starvation is not an option.
 

Roseline rolls onto her side, facing the wall.
 
Her revulsion at what she is becoming wars against her need.
 
The thirst multiplies with each passing moment, and her thoughts have begun to fragment.
 
Voices call to her from the shadows of her mind.
 

She digs her long nails into her palms, hissing as blood pools around the wounds.
 
She licks her hands, closing her eyes to the metallic taste that barely quenches her need.
 
Her blood will not heal her nor will it keep her thirst at bay for long, but it soothes her parched throat.

A sound shatters the stillness and sends Roseline cowering against the wall.
 
She tucks her knees into her chest and raises a frail arm to cover her eyes as a swaying lantern approaches.
 
She tries to peer around the glow but can’t see who or what walks just beyond.

“Hello?”
 
Her voice croaks, so she attempts again.
 
“Who is there?”

She can hear footsteps now.
 
Each step is smooth, as if gliding over the stone rather than actually stepping.
 
When she can’t detect any hissing or the foul stench of death on the air, she breathes a sigh of relief.
 
Whoever this is, it’s not one of Lucien’s snake-like Eltat that attacked her in the Hell Fire Club caverns or the beast that shredded her intestines.
 
She places her hand over her stomach, feeling the sticky blood that still seeps from her wounds.

“Roseline?”

She lowers her hand, nostrils flaring as a new scent invades her senses.
 
It is bold, laced with danger and something more.

“Stay back,” she growls, clawing at the wall.
 
Her nails dig deep into the stone as the lock on the cell door rattles.
 
She doesn’t need to see past the light to know who is coming.
 
It’s
him.

“What have they done to you?”
 
The masculine cry of outrage is quickly followed by a loud clink as the lock falls to the ground.
 

Roseline covers her ears and begins to rock as the door screeches open.
 
The sound stabs at her mind, making her long for the return of endless silence.
 
“Don’t come any closer, Malachi.”

Her warning is multi-layered as the shadow moves through the open doorway.
 
Anger boils in her belly, but even that is not enough to dismiss the delicious aroma of his blood as he draws near.
 

Shiny black boots stop less than three feet away.
 
When the lantern swings closer, she squints as her eyes struggle to adjust to the light; she has been kept in the dark for too long.
 

“I came as soon as I could,” he says, lowering the lantern.
 

Clutching her arms tightly around her knees, Roseline glares up through a curtain of matted hair.
 
Her lips curl with contempt.
 
“Why are you here?”

“I had to see that you were safe.”
 
He stretches out his hand to touch the top of her head.
 
She gnashes her teeth at him and he yanks back out of reach.
 
“I never dreamed he would treat you like this.
 
Not you.”

Roseline barks out a laugh, which quickly turns into a coughing fit.
 
She beats on her chest weakly.
 
When she is able to speak again, her voice is strained with effort.
 
“You didn’t think he’d roll out the red carpet for me, did you?
 
Surely you aren’t that naïve.”

Malachi slowly crouches down to her level.
 
“I tried to stop this, to escape before he came for you, but you were so...” he trails off, shaking his head.
 
“Why didn’t you just come with me?”

“You killed my friend,” she spits back.
 
Her stomach clinches as she imagines wrapping her fingers around his neck and squeezing the life from him.
 
But would that be enough to kill him?
 
Roseline isn’t so sure any more.
 

“She was in my way.”
 
He grimaces, turning his gaze away.
 
“I regret that, but
 
I had no other choice.”

“She was a human!”
 
Roseline lunges forward, slashing at Malachi’s face with her nails.
 
They tear through his flesh, leaving deep gashes.
 
He cries out and lurches back, cradling his cheek.
 
His eyes grow wide with shock.

Blood oozes through his fingers as he rises.
 
His face disappears into shadow, but not before she sees his expression drain of emotion.
 
“It was her life or yours.
 
I chose you.”

Roseline presses back into the wall.
 
Her gaze falls beyond him, landing on the partially open door.
 
She knows Malachi is no fool.
 
He would never leave her a way to escape if he thought her capable of doing so.
 
Obviously, he suspected her frailty before he even stepped foot in this place.

“A lot of good that did.”
 

Malachi’s voice sounds distant as he shifts to lean back against the wall.
 
“I didn’t know this would happen.
 
I knew he wanted you for something, but I never dreamed it would be for
this.”
 

“Yeah, well, now you know.”
 
Roseline crosses her arms over her chest.
 
She tries not to think of how thin her arms have become, as if her body is absorbing itself just to survive.

She can feel her strength receding, her mind weakening, the worst possible fate for a warrior.
 
Lucien knows this, planned for it.
 
How much longer can she hold out before madness drives her to feed?
 

“Why are you here?” She asks again wearily, leaning her head back against the wall.
 
It takes too much effort to keep it held aloft.
 
“Come to torture me yourself?”

“Never!”
 
He crouches at her feet.
 
She pulls her toes back under the protective cover of her dress.
 
She doesn’t want any part of him to touch her ever again.

Malachi sinks down onto the ground, pressing his fists against his eyes.
 
“This is my fault.
 
I should have never let you leave England.
 
I should have kept you from fighting Vladimir.
 
Made you go with me.
 
If I had known…”

Roseline peers at him.
 
The sorrow in his voice confuses her.
 
She has always been good at sniffing out a lie, but Malachi has proven himself to be a master of deception.
 
“You really didn’t know, did you?”

“No.”
 
His head droops so low his chin presses against his pristine white dress shirt.
 
The golden buttons on his cuffs look abnormally shiny in this dingy dungeon.
 
When he glances up, Roseline can see the change: the subtle narrowing of his pupils and the slight tick of his right eyelid.
 
“I can help you.”

Roseline tenses.
 
Her gaze flits over his shoulder to the empty hallway beyond.
 
Maybe she could make it.
 
One short sprint would get her down the hall and around the corner, but what lies beyond?
 
She was unconscious when they brought her here.
 
“How?”

Malachi unbuttons his sleeve and rolls it up past his elbow.
 
His skin appears ghostly pale in the dim candlelight that flickers in the passage behind him.
 
Staring Roseline in the eye, Malachi sinks his teeth into his wrist, piercing the artery.
 
Blood flows over his teeth, glossing his lips.

Her hiss echoes against the cave walls.
 
Spasms erupt through her stomach as her eyes roll back.
 
Her breathing quickens, and her pulse thumps wildly in her ears.
 
“Don’t,” she grunts, shoving his arm away.

“It’s ok,” Malachi soothes as he stills her feeble protests.
 
“Angel blood will slow the transformation.
 
I won’t let you become a monster like Lucien.”

Roseline’s eyes water as she fights against the heady scent.
 
Delirium steals away the remaining shreds of logic as she dives for his arm.
 
She hesitates only a moment, pausing to look up into his blackened eyes.
 

“Trust me,” he whispers as she sinks her teeth deep into his flesh.

Five

I
t feels wrong to be in Roseline’s room, lying atop her bed when she isn’t here.
 
Sadie will never forget the man who took her friend.
 

He was the one who left Sadie for dead.
 

His blade sliced through her belly like a knife through butter.
 
Smooth.
 
Quick.
 
Effortless.
 
Although the physical pain is gone, the memory of it lingers.

Closing her eyes, Sadie curls onto her side, wrapping her arms around a pillow and hugging it close.
 
She was too weak to save Roseline before but no longer.
 

Sadie can feel a new strength now, as if granite has been poured into the marrow of her bones.
 
She can hear the slightest sounds, from the fluttering of Nicolae’s heartbeat down in the great room to the frustrated pacing of Fane in his room on the opposite side of the castle.

She is strong, yes, but she is untrained.
 

Releasing a heavy sigh, she slowly rises to sit on the edge of Roseline’s bed.
 
Someone cleaned the floor of her blood, and the bedding has been changed since she awoke from her transformation.
 
Evidence of her near death has been bleached from this room, but it is still there in the tiniest scent of blood that stubbornly clings to the stone floor.

Nicolae probably didn’t want her reminded of her ordeal.
 

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she thinks of how attentive he has been since she woke up.
 
Her smile wanes almost immediately at the ever present reminder from Fane that, at any moment, she might develop the desire to rip out Nicolae’s throat.

Her nose scrunches with disgust.
 
The delicious scent of his blood is no stronger than his ever-increasing grip on her heart.
 
No, she could never hurt him, nor could she harm William.
 
Not that Fane believes her.

He continues to pace, now just outside her room, waiting for her to prove him right.
 
His watchful eye is beyond annoying.
 
Why can’t he see that she isn’t a danger to them?

Even as this thought tumbles through her mind, another seeks to replace it, one that is darker and far more terrifying.
 
What will happen when they leave the castle?
 
When she is surrounded by people she doesn’t care about?

Sadie curls her knees into her chest and perches on the edge of the bed, unsure if she can trust herself.
 
Perhaps it is good that Fane delays leaving.
 
Is he giving her time to adjust or time for Nicolae to come to his senses about her?

Nicolae doesn’t know that she has heard his heated arguments with Fane in the stairwell that leads to back courtyard.
 
To say that Nicolae’s hunters aren’t happy with his decision to save her life would be a grave understatement.
 
It hurts to know that her life has driven a wedge between him and his men, but she likes to think he knew the consequences of his decision when he made it.

Or maybe he wasn’t thinking at all,
her inner doubts whisper to her.
 
Maybe he regrets losing Sorin and his hunters, the only family he has ever known.
 

Clutching her knees tightly to her chest, tears begin to seep from her eyes.
 
Guilt tugs at her from all directions.
 

Fane is angry with her.
 
William is terrified but putting on a brave face.
 
Nicolae is far too careless around her.
 
The hunters are mobilizing, planning an attack on the castle.
 
They are coming for her.

Roseline is still missing.
 
Who knows what terrible things might be happening to her at this very moment?

Sadie hangs her head in shame.
 
“This is all my fault,” she whispers to the empty room.

***

“
N
o!
 
Out of the question.”
 
Fane bellows as he rounds on Nicolae.
 
His voice echoes loudly through the empty great room of Bran Castle.
 
“I’ve already told you, there is no way I am letting you two train together.”

Nicolae’s fists clench at his side.
 
This isn’t the first time they have had this argument over the past couple of days and he fears that it won’t be the last.
 
“Let us?”

“You know what I mean.”
 
The skin around Fane’s eyes wrinkles as he glances through the top of the great window toward the castle turret.
 
Nicolae can see a light still on in Sadie’s room.
 
He is not sure if Fane actually heard her sneaking down the stairs or if he is trying to pause for effect.
 
“I know you think you can handle her, but she is dangerous.
 
What if she did attack you?
 
Could you really kill her if your life was on the line?”

Nicolae hesitates, sucking in a steadying breath before answering.
 
“She won’t hurt me.
 
I know her.”

Crossing the room, Fane sinks onto a leather couch.
 
He turns his face toward the blazing fire, as if he could find the answers he seeks in its flickering depths.
 
“I am happy that her transition took, but we don’t have time to stop and train her right now.
 
Roseline needs us.
 
We can’t just forget that she is gone.”

His posture slumps as he stares deep into the flames dancing in the tall hearth.
 
“I don’t even know where to begin looking for her.”

“I think I may know.”
 
Nicolae perches on the arm of a couch opposite Fane.
 
“I spoke with Sadie at length about her ordeal.
 
I thought it might help her to process it all.
 
She told me what we feared, that Malachi was the one who attacked her, but also that he wasn’t alone that night.
 
Someone else was on the balcony.”

Fane leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
 
A fervent intensity gleams in his eyes.
 
“Who?”

Nicolae purses his lips as his doubts flood back in.
 
Of course he believed Sadie was telling the truth, but that doesn’t mean it really happened.
 
“She was probably delusional from blood loss…” he hedges.

“Tell me.”
 

Nicolae’s finger flinches against the cool leather of the couch.
 
He doesn’t want to say, to get Fane riled up, but what if there is even a grain of truth to Sadie’s story?
 
Can he really live with himself if he doesn’t tell Fane?

“She saw Lucien.”

Fane hisses, leaping high into the rafters.
 
Nicolae can hear him running along the aged beams, clinging to the shadows.
 
He peers up into the darkened recesses of the room but fails to catch a glimpse of the enraged immortal.
 
In all the time he has known Fane, this is the first time he has reacted so strongly.
 
A resurrected Lucien is obviously far more serious than he had first thought.

“Do you believe her?”
 
Fane’s voice sounds hollow and distant as it drifts down from above.

Nicolae finally spots him near the shattered remains of the great window. The bottom has been boarded up to seal out the strong winter winds that whip through the castle grounds.
 
Another snow storm has unleashed its wrath, slickening the window panes with glistening ice.

“We saw him die,” Nicolae says.
 
“It shouldn’t be possible, but…”

As he trails off, Nicolae begins to realize that Fane shares his doubts.
 
What if an immortal could come back from the dead?
 
Weren’t they technically dead already, at least compared to human standards?
 
In all of his years of training, he never once heard Sorin speak of such a feat, but Nicolae knows not everything is as is seems.

Fane remains in the rafters for several minutes, silent and contemplating.
 
Finally, he drops from above, his brown cloak rippling around him as he lands silently on the floor.
 
His skin is absent of color, his eyes haunted and bright with fear.

“If Lucien is alive, dark magic must have been used to revive him.”
 
Fane turns to face the fire, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
 
“There’s no telling what terrible things he could be capable of now.”

A ripple of apprehension curls in Nicolae’s belly as he stares at the rigid posture of his friend.
 
His expression is tight, and his chest lies still.
 
He doesn’t move for several minutes, which scares Nicolae far more than he would like to admit.

Fane has always been a fierce warrior, someone Nicolae begrudgingly admired for his bravery, even in the face of terrible odds.
 
It deeply unsettles Nicolae to see Fane so disturbed by the thought of Lucien’s return.

“What do you think he wants Roseline for?”

Fane turns slowly to face him, his eyes glossed over, unseeing.
 
“She killed his brother.
 
Lucien never forgives and he never ever forgets.
 
If he truly has her, I can only imagine what she is being forced to endure.”

Nicolae’s stomach clenches at the thought of anything happening to her.
 
The childhood hatred he once had for Roseline faded during their time spent together in London.
 
He grew to not only respect her as a warrior but to consider her a friend.
 
The thought of anyone harming her makes his skin tingle with anger.
 
“We have to find her.”

“Exactly,” Fane nods, breaking out of his comatose pose.
 
“And that is why I can’t let Sadie become a liability.”

Nicolae stiffens.
 
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fane takes a step toward him, his expression grave but determined.
 
“I saved Sadie’s life because you asked me to, but make no mistake, Roseline is and will always be my first priority.
 
I won’t let anything get in my way.
 
Not even Sadie.”

His threat falls heavily over the room.
 
A myriad of emotions hits Nicolae at once.
 
Anger.
 
Betrayal. Doubt.
 
Fear.
 
But even as the feelings wash over him, understanding follows quickly behind.
 
He remembers the agony of holding Sadie’s hand in his own, unable to do anything to save her.
 
He had grasped onto the only hope available to him, desperate to see her survive.
 
Isn’t that exactly what Fane is doing?
 
  

Nicolae straightens his shoulders and rises to his feet.
 
“I will take full responsibility for her.”

Fane laughs.
 
“And what about your hunters?
 
Do you think they are so willing to forgive their leader’s decision to create another immortal?
 
Their enemy?
 
They are planning to attack us, Nicolae.
 
That doesn’t sound too forgiving to me.”

Nicolae opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape.
 
He knew the consequences of his decision to save Sadie’s life when he made it, but at the time it didn’t matter.
 
Now, it seems like he will have to fight to protect her again, but this time it will be his family, his brothers-in-arms that he must defeat.