My nose scrunches up at the scent of Barnabas’ sweet blood, which means that every Shadow Vampire can smell him too.
But then, Nebet didn’t only take her ceremonial iron knife, which had a curved hilt like a crescent moon, and slice open Barnabas’ palm like she did me, before we were shoved out of the City Gates. Instead, she cruelly leaned down and slashed across his Achilles tendon.
The fanged bitch truly does want the rebel leader to either bleed out or be hunted as nothing but sport as an example.
This isn’t about being picked as a Blood Lover for either of us.
Barnabas’ ears pinned to his head in reaction to the pain. I was impressed, however, that he forced himself to straighten, glaring at her.
Shadows flowed around Barnabas’ antlers. “Good to know that I’m so dangerous, even as an Omega Shadow Human to agod, that you can’t make this a fair Hunt. You should fear my antlers. Kill me, but you’re only turning me into a myth. My people won’t forget me.”
“Stupid Hart.” Nebet drew her tongue along the blade, relishing the blood. “They already have.”
I listen for Barnabas, as he stumbles behind me.
His breathing is labored, but he hasn’t stopped for a break once.
He’d have made a brilliant featherglass. I can see how he became a rebel leader.
When Barnabas’ hand rests on my shoulder, I relax. “Nearly there, aye?”
“Where?”
“The Void Pyramids.” I nod toward the limestone silhouette of the three silent pyramids that dominate the countryside.
The giant flanks of the three pyramids catch the silver moonlight in fragments; they’re like the broken shards of a blade, sticking out of the stony plateau.
Their tips are striped with three glistening layers, gold and white, as if more important miniature pyramids sit on their shoulders.
The stars in the dome of the sky are brighter than normal like they are the Shadow Gods’ eyes, eagerly watching the Hunt.
Do they want to see Barnabas and me saved or savaged? Sent down to hell for our sins?
I have enough sins. I can never atone.
“What’s the plan?” Barnabas struggles to catch his breath. “We’ve laid false trails with our blood all over the valley. I saw you pressing your bloody palm to every rock we passed. But I’m still bleeding…”
“Here.” I spin him around, pushing him to the floor.
Then I raise his ankle, licking over the wound.
It needs to be bandaged. He will likely always limp. But this may at least slow the bleeding.
Then I drag off my tunic and start to rip it into narrow pieces.
“Now that we’ve misdirected those bastards…” I wrap a strip of my linen top over the wound on Barnabas’ ankle, tying it as tightly as I can. “It’s time to stop smelling like a feast.”
I lick over the shallow cut on my own palm, before starting to struggle to bind it.
“Give that here.” Barnabas scoots closer, taking the cloth from me and tying it more efficiently than I was expecting. I study his head, which is bowed over my hand. His red ears twitch. “All done. What next?”
I waggle my cut feet.
Barnabas hits me softly with his tail. “We’ve grown close, but I’m still not licking your feet.”
“Now I’m just disappointed.” Despite the fear coursing through me, I toss another couple of strips of linen at Barnabas.
He smirks, snatching them from me. I shiver, wrapping my wings around my naked body, as he smoothly moves to tie up my feet.
