Foxx plopped down next to her. She flinched, her head slowly turning towards him. Short black hair, her skin on one side of her cheek was burnt, likely from the stone, her hands and feet the same. The girl’s cheeks were stained with tears, her hazel eyes red and raw from crying.
Gently, Foxx reached out, running a hand through her hair, and then he did something he hadn’t done in a long while. Instead of taking energy, he gave. Smiling softly, he watched as her threads that had been so very dim before began to brighten until they were shining and solidly gold.
The child gasped, her eyes widening as the pain she was feeling was no doubt pulled back to at least a manageable level.
“There we go,” Foxx said softly.
He then did the only thing his conscience would allow. He continued to give. Foxx may have been weakened, but his life energy was strong, burning brightly compared to the rest in the room. His age benefited him. So he continued to give, because he was old and they were all so young. The oldest not even a hundred years old.
Closing his eyes, Foxx reached out mentally to those still living, giving each a little more energy to grasp onto. When he brushed against some he had first thought dead, and found a single thread surviving, he dragged them back from the edge, back to the world of the living. Their threads brightened up as his own began to fade.
The girl sat up, as did a few of the others, clearly shocked.
“Pray to our Goddess, Nycinthea. She cannot get us out of this, but she can help ease the pain,” Foxx instructed.
And they did. Some out loud, some not. But he felt it. Their prayers seemed to combine, making it just a bit easier for everyone to keep going. Some started sobbing in relief as they continued to pray.
“Who…who are you?” the little girl asked, bright watery eyes staring up at him in awe.
“I’m Foxx Honeywood. And you?” he asked with a wan smile.
“I’m Melody. Did the scary men bring you here too?”
“Mm, they did.”
The child stared, a tear slipping free. “I’m scared.”
As much as Foxx didn’t want children, or like them that much, it hurt to hear those words coming from someone so young. She was only eight.
Hesitantly, Foxx opened his arms. She…also hesitated for a moment, before throwing herself at him and sobbing.
Holding her tight, he gently rocked her. “Shh, it’s going to be fine. We will get out of here. Help is coming. I promise. I’m a hunter. My partner, Harlow, is coming. The hunters will save us. I know it sounds insane to think they would, but I promise you that they are coming.”
Foxx didn’t know if he was lying or not, but he really, really hoped he wasn’t.
* * *
With an enraged growl,Harlow punched the dead man in the face. “Fucking weakling!”
This was the fourth fucking priest that had kicked the bucket. The first fucker had managed to off himself with a poison capsule in his tooth, of all things. The other three had died because they were pathetic fucks.
“I think his heart gave out.” Tony tsked behind him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that major permanent injuries were allowed.”
Harlow spun, glaring at the other man. “We are wasting time on these fuckers!”
Tony winced. “It’s been a day, Harlow. We are doing all that we can. There is still time. We will find Foxx, and whoever else they took.”
“It’s a day too long!” he bellowed.
Fuck! Foxx was stuck in these bastard’s hands, and they were doing who knows what to him. To add on, the vampire was probably freaking the fuck out. Foxx’s screaming, crying face entered his mind, and he shook his head—FUCK!
He’d kill them all. They had taken something of his. Foxx was his. They would all pay. For each hurt they’d inflicted on his vampire, he’d give them three more. Foxx had to still be alive. He was probably having a breakdown, but he had to be alive. Harlow would be damned if any one of these bastards ended his vampire.
“Get me a new one.”
“You should take a break. Maybe sleep a little or eat something.”
“Get. Me. A. New. One,” Harlow ground out.
