A whirlwind of blades and fangs and talons, Adara tore the creatures apart, bit by bit, using their own bones she ripped from their bodies as weapons and pulling their teeth out and using them as daggers to hurl at the others. She paid no mind to the pain that ripped through her skin or the bloodied wounds they inflicted on her. It only mattered that she was covered in more blood that ran black than red.
When the night finally stood still, she crouched defensively, panting for breath. Her eyes flickered between each mangled body around her, waiting for one to rise and attack again. But with how many bones she’d broken and wrenched from their bodies, from how much skin and muscle she’d shredded into ribbons, it would be impossible for them to rise again.
Indeed, she was covered more in black blood than her own. Her entire body ached with the weight of exhaustion, but that didn’t slow her as she hurtled into a sprint at the sound of another scream that echoed across the desert.
Dominic.
What horrid monster could have gotten hold of him to elicit such tortured sounds from the King of Keys?
Fangs and talons retracted, Adara sprinted through the desert, hurling streaks of blue flames into the night to light the way. Her heart hammering in her chest was a near mirror to the thunder that followed the frequent crackle of lightning across the clouded sky. Blood rushed in her ears as she strained to keep up speed, with her muscles aching and her blood streaming.
She should assess her wounds, stanch the bleeding, and cover them, at least, so they wouldn’t get infected. But all logic left her mind at the sound of another one of Dominic’s pained screams. She only ran faster toward the awful sound, over the undulating dunes of sand, and through the gnarled, dead trees that reached for her. She leaped over the remains of the old kingdoms and their inhabitants, gritting her teeth through the pain.
Adara ran and ran and ran through the Ruins. Thunder cracked, and there was a sudden downpour of rain. As if the gods were trying to slow her down, to weaken her magic, to blur her vision so she could never reach him. She squinted against the water pelting her face, urging her fatigued legs to move faster as she sprinted through the sludge-like sand.
Until it disappeared beneath her feet.
Chapter 37
Agentlebreeze,reekingofdeath, ruffled Dominic’s hair, sending a roiling wave of nausea through him. He breathed slowly, willing the sickness to subside, loathing how his draining magic had weakened him. He sluggishly peeled his eyes open, squinting, expecting to be met with blinding sunlight, but then he remembered he was in the midst of the Ruins. Hot rain pelted his face, soaking his clothes. No, that was mostly blood.
Pain lanced through his leg, eliciting a deep groan from his lips. He glanced down, suddenly remembering the deep laceration across his thigh. The wound had been poorlywrapped in a white bandage, already darkened with blood. Clearly, whatever brought him here didn’t want him bleeding to death . . . yet.
With great effort, he lifted his head. Dried blood crusted on his throbbing temple and ear, itching irritably. He moved a hand to scratch it off, only to be resisted by thick ropes abrading his skin. Dominic slowly glanced to his left, then his right. Ropes wound around both his wrists, stringing him up between two massive, bare trees. His right wrist burned from the wound from that creature’s needle-like teeth. He attempted to call on his magic—not that it had been much help lately—but something kept it suppressed beneath his skin, sputtering out before it could be of any use.
His feet lightly touched the sand, enough to allow pressure on his wounded leg, which screamed in protest as he stood on it. His shoulders ached from his arms suspended above him, holding up most of his weight. He shifted to the left, the pain shooting through his right leg easing slightly.
Those eerie, humanoid creatures stalked through the night, circling him in a wide arc. His house was nowhere to be seen. A dark figure sauntered toward Dominic, head held high. His black pants blended with the night. A red tunic that probably hid blood stains fit tightly to him, with sleeves that were ripped at the shoulders.
“Nice to see you again, Son,” the man greeted, his raspy voice dripping with sarcasm. Dominic’s father gave him a mocking smile, filled with crooked, yellow teeth, through his graying, unkempt beard. “Seems you haven’t aged a bit in all the years that have passed.”
Dominic lifted his head as best he could, staring straight into dark eyes. “Seems you haven’t either, considering that you’re dead,” Dominic spat in his father’s face.This isn’t real. This isn’treal. This isn’t real.The mantra repeated over and over in his head, calming his rapid pulse.
Dominic’s father snarled, wiping the saliva from his cheek. He drew a knife. “Watch your mouth, boy!” He sneered, pressing the blade against Dominic’s throat.
The King of Keys was unfazed, face remaining a mask of indifference, even as a thin line of blood trickled down his neck. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re the powerless one here. No weapons, no army . . . and no magic.”
Dominic shrugged a shoulder, regretting the motion when hurt flashed through his arm. “Why don’t you untie me before things get a lot more messy than they need to?” Dominic offered with false bravado. In all truth, he had no clue how he was going to get out of this. How did you kill someone who was already dead?
His father’s hand shot out to the lesion on Dominic’s leg, digging his fingers into open flesh, twisting deeper. Black spots danced across Dominic’s vision as pain, hot and sharp, shot through him. He cried out sharply. Blood leaked down his pant leg. The pain was a thousand times worse than normal without his magic healing him. Dominic would not submit to his father, though. He’d been through enough agony and torment before. He could withstand some filthy ghost and his vengeful wrath.
The man stepped so close that Dominic could smell his putrid breath. “Youkilledyour own father,” he seethed. Feral wrath flashed in his eyes.
As if he needed to remind Dominic, whose lips curled into a malicious smile at that particular reminder.
“I’m not letting my chance at revenge slip away.”
Dominic huffed a laugh. “I did you a favor. It was either a swift, merciful death at my hand or letting something worse attack at night. You never would have survived after I left.” Dominic and Saige had been the ones to labor away, earningwhatever money they could and stealing when their work didn’t support them. They’d been the ones to put food on their plates and fetch water from the wells.
Pain shot through his jaw, the impact of the hilt of his father’s weapon delivering a harsh, swift blow. Stars danced across his vision.
“I would have survived had you not been aheartless monster,poisoning your own flesh and blood,” he growled. “Your mother would have survived too, had you not been a reckless, foolish child, venturing out to the unknown, bringing that disease back with you.” His father’s voice wavered hysterically.
The thought of his mother stung, but Dominic merely rolled his eyes. His younger self could not be blamed for his mother falling ill. He wouldn’t let his father do that to him again.
Light peeked through the drifting clouds—it hadn’t been nighttime after all, the world cast into darkness from the storm—reflected off his father’s glossy eyes, anger and sorrow fighting for dominance. “Your sister would have lived if you hadn’t let her take the blame. She was a child!”
So was I, Dominic thought, rage building to a crescendo inside of him.
