Page 45
The pain isn’t even pain at first. It’s a whiteout that drowns the world. The seam of the crescent under my palm splits open with a hiss and a wrench that reverberates up my arm, across my chest, into the core of my brain. My mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. There’s no air to scream as the dome fills with the sound of breaking bells all shattering at once. Every star in the obsidian ceiling blinks out, then comes back, and then spins in sickening circles. The tiles under my feet lose all color, replaced by a river of blue that swells and crests and finally bursts.
I see everything now.
Not just my own memories, but a million others all at once. The ancestors I never met, the ones whose blood made me but whose names were erased. There are so many trials, so many bloody courts and screaming children and hands held over fire, that for a second I can’t even find myself in the mess. But then I see a little girl, hair wild and face streaked with tears, shackled to a cold stone floor. This is one of the lives where I must not have survived beyond childhood.
I try to look away, but I can’t. The vision drags me forward, showing every second. My guardian’s face, alive and desperate, as she throws herself at the masked guards. The way they break her wrist, but never stops looking at me, even when they drag her away. The sound of her voice, quiet and sharp as a knife: “Don’t let them win. Never let them win, not in any life.”
There are more memories, all layered on top of each other, a pile-up on a highway at midnight. First, a room made of black glass, my hands clasped behind my back as I kneel before a woman sneering at me. I’m probably about twelve this time, and I notice the taste of blood in my mouth as I bite my tongue to keep from crying. Howls fill the air before giant shadows come and my vision goes dark amid the pain that reverberates through my entire being.
Another death, I guess.
Second, I’m shown a dark, endless corridor lined with those asshole magic mirrors. Each reflection is me, but some are chained to the walls, and one is just a skeleton, her bony fingers locked around a crescent-shaped scepter. I walk past, and every one of them turns to stare. The visions flicker, then jump.
Suddenly I’m not me; now, I’m Dezi.
I see the world through his eyes, and it’s a nightmare. We’re kneeling on a marble floor, stripped to the waist, with our arms outstretched and bound in silver wire. A figure sits above us on a throne of bones, its face hidden behind a red mask with no eyes, only a mouth full of fangs. The air is thick with the smell of blood and incense. Our skin is covered in scars, each one a carving of a different symbol. The ancient vampire leans down and draws another line on our chest with a silver knife, and we don’t even flinch.
The king whispers, “Never forget what punishment you will receive for defying me, favorite childe.”
I bow my head as Dezi, gritting my teeth as I reply, “I will not, Master.”
The vision rips away, and I’m myself again, but not really. I’m every version of myself, all fighting for the same breath. Collapsing to the floor, I gasp as more images run through my mind like I downloaded an entire server full of them. When I get my eyes to focus again, I notice that the blue light is gone, and the dome is dark. My face is wet. I touch it, and my hand comes away with tears, not blood.
Tiernan is instantly crouched at my side. His hands shake as he checks me for wounds. “Are you all right? Are you—Knuckles, answer me or I’m gonna lose it.”
My voice is raw with pain as I reply, “I’m here. I’m just… holy fuck.”
He nods, but his jaw is clenched so tight it could shatter. Revelin and Khol close in behind him, and Dezi is last. When I look at him, he nods once—no words, just acknowledgement. He knows I saw him and his gory memories—even beyond the scene where he was being punished.
I look at my hand, and the crescent mark has changed. There’s a line through it now, a sharp diagonal scar bisecting the moon. It’s angry red, but it doesn’t bleed.
Does this mean I failed? How is that even possible?
Before I can process that, something lunges out of the shadows at the edge of the dome. A creature, made of smoke and razor wire with eyes like holes screams. The sound is pure hatred, but luckily, Khol doesn’t wait for instruction. He launches himself at the thing, fangs bared and claws out. He hits it head-on, and the collision is a mess of shadow and scales. For a second, I’m worried but he tears the creature in half, and the halves flop to the ground, writhing uselessly.
“Damn, you really—”
The fucking thing reforms, doubling in size as it lets out a bone-jarring yell once more. Revelin whirls, blasting the monster with a spear of golden light. The light burns through it, leaving a tunnel of empty space, but the hole closes up almost instantly. He gives my leopard a hard look and then turns back to the monster with glowing palms.
Tiernan pulls me up and throws me over his shoulder, moving away from the battle at a speed I didn’t know he had. I try to beat on his shoulder blades, but the experience with the memory shit has me teetering and my refuel guy is busy staring down some bullshit glob of goo and shadows.
My luck is always shit, I swear to the Goddess.
Twenty-Three
FIADH
Fiadh
The creature doesn’t attack Rev directly again, so it must have some sort of… instincts. It circles the three remaining men just out of reach. As it moves, its face splits open into a mouth that’s teeth all the way to its ears. When it speaks, the words don’t come out of its mouth—they explode into my mind.
You are not worthy.
The words hit so hard I jerk, tumbling out of Tier’s grip to the ground. My ass hits hard, but I look at the thing without fear. So many people must have given their lives to get me to this one; it feels like I’d be wasting that sacrifice to let some boogeyman spook me with mean girl taunts.
You are not whole. You do not belong.
Each word is a physical blow, like being hit with a sledgehammer made of shame. I want to scream back, to tell it to fuck off, but my voice is so trashed. Instead, I lift my limp arms and give it the double middle fingers, eyes defiant as I meet its gaze.
