Awakened (7 page)

I went back to the young man. His face was pale, and his breathing was shallow. I
was lucky that he was alive; I pulled my up sleeve to bite my wrist and smiled.

“Funny. Yeah, well, I’m sitting here at my girlfriend’s house, wondering when she’s
coming home.”

I had more important things to worry about than some stranger’s relationship. “Can
you tell me why you think I care?” I asked, then bit my wrist and placed it to the
wound on the intern’s shoulder. The healing was instantaneous.

“Because when Mia comes home, I am going to rip her throat out for her betrayal.”

A click signaled the end of the call.

I placed the phone back in my pocket and cursed. I’d forgotten about the Chorý that
was left behind, the one that Alex asked me to take care of. I left the hospital and
headed back to the cottage to pick up my vehicle. On the way to Elmwood City, I called
Jace, only to get no answer.

I arrived at the lake near Mia’s home and parked the car on the side farthest from
the house.

I ventured into the woods, following the rogue Chorý’s scent to Mia’s backyard. A
figure stood in one of the windows on the second floor, awaiting my arrival. I hadn’t
expected to arrive unnoticed, but I’d hoped. With Mia’s parents out of town and Mia
with Alex, I wasn’t worried about any unexpected guests.

The back door was wide open. I headed inside and followed the melted ice up two flights
of stairs and into a room in the back. I entered slowly, keeping my hands at my sides
to show that I had no weapon. I was sure that this wouldn’t end well, but I needed
to assess the situation before it blew up.

“And I thought you said that you didn’t care,” crooned a husky voice from the corner
veiled in darkness.

“Who says that I care?” I shrugged.

“Your presence here says a lot, wouldn’t you say?”

“Or maybe I want to send you back to Laurent with a message.”

“Do I look like some errand boy to you?” The bald man stepped from the shadows. Anger
marred his face.

“You telling me that you aren’t Laurent’s whipping boy?”

The bald man growled in anger and then visibly calmed. He raised his hands in surrender.
An innocent look replaced the dark shadows that had at first plagued his face. “Hey,
I’m just sitting here waiting for my blond princess to come home, and you break in
and insult me.”

“And I guess I should just leave and let you, what was it you said—”

“Oh, I said that I am going to rip her throat out for her betrayal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Betrayal. Is that what this is all about?” I shook my head and
looked to the ceiling, searching in vain for patience.

“Okay I can see you’re getting bored, so let’s spice things up a bit. I say we make
this a game, shall we? I’m Xavier, and you must be Kale.” He swayed, and he leaned
into the purple wall in Mia’s room.

The moon’s light reflected from the bright white snow outside, illuminating the room
in a milky haze. Pictures of Mia with some old flame shook as he leaned into the wall.
He reached up and straightened the photo before plucking it off the wall. I smiled.

“A game?” I leaned against the dresser, glancing at the photo in his hand. If he could
pretend to be relaxed, so could I. Why did stalkers always seem at ease, when they
were the main reason for the disturbance? “What kind of game are you suggesting?”

He looked pointedly at me before rolling his eyes. “A battle of wits.” Sarcasm and
annoyance laced his voice.

“I was told that you’re pretty nasty in battle.” He clapped his hands, rubbed them
together, and then pulled them to his lips. “You were the one that left that nasty
little scar on the Council hunter’s face, and you also took down the last death bringer.”
He smiled.

I couldn’t tell if he was amazed at what I had done or jealous that he hadn’t done
it himself. “And you want me to teach you to fight?”

His smirk morphed into a snarl of anger and then into a full-bellied laugh. I smiled.

He shook his finger at me as he laughed. “A comedian as well, eh?”

“If it pays the bills.”

He laughed again. “Wow. Standup comedians are making good money in this economy? I
guess maybe I should take the sweet li’l princess with me on the road when I start
my tour?”

I released an aggrieved breath. “You called me here to discuss a career move?”

Xavier suddenly moved closer; I straightened.

“
No-o
,” he cooed, drawing the word out. “Why don’t we see who is the strongest?”

“Strongest?” I laughed. “What? Would you like to clear the table in the corner and
arm wrestle?”

“Funny.” He lifted the picture of Mia to his mouth and kissed it. “If I win, I get
her.”

“Never going to happen.”

“Yes, well I’m sure you think so, but for the sake of the game, let’s—”

“This is not a game; this is the life of an innocent girl you are talking about.”

Xavier laughed as he flung the picture of Mia onto the bed. “She is food, and that
is it. I don’t understand why you feel the need to treat her any differently.” Xavier
looked at the picture on the bed and then back to me. “You can fight for her, or step
out of the way and let me have her.”

His smiled baited me, and his laugh grated my nerves. I didn’t love Mia, and at times
she drove me insane, but I would not allow Xavier to harm her.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’ve been lonely.” He ran his hand across the white nightstand at the head of the
bed. I raised a brow at his peculiar statement. “I was thinking of that sweet-smelling
blonde and how long it’s been.”

He looked up at me with soulless moss green eyes. “You know, since I’ve held a woman.”
He cackled as his meaning dawned on me.

My shock and disgust no doubt fueled his fire. I moved from the door, standing no
more than an inch in front of him.

“Yes, please tell me that you have a problem with this.” His hot breath assaulted
my senses. He had just fed, and I could smell the human’s blood on his breath. The
blood still smelled fresh, and I could only imagine the satisfaction its warmth would
give.

My throat tightened and burned with jealousy. My gaze had lingered on his lips longer
than I’d intended, and Xavier used this to his advantage. Air swooshed as his fist
arced towards my face.

I barely dodged the blow—the rough knuckles of his left fist grazed my jaw and ear.
I blocked the punch with my arm, leaving my mid-section open for Xavier’s right-hand
punch to knock me off balance. He was strong, stronger than I’d given him credit for,
and as I regained my balance, I realized that he was fast as well. His right knee
caught me in the stomach, sending me back and onto the floor.

“Things just got interesting.” Xavier advanced toward me.

I quickly rolled over and made it to my feet again. “How is that?” I quickly dodged
another punch.

“Well, had I known you swung that way…” Xavier winked and blew me a kiss.

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re not my type!” I sprinted toward him. Just as
I reached him, I unleashed a flurry of punches, making sure that one of them landed
in his cocky mouth and another to his stomach.

Blood sprayed from his busted lip and the beast inside awoke with a howl. Xavier growled
as he failed to block the punch to his stomach.

His blood was unappetizing; I could smell the Chorý taint. But it was the hint of
his victim’s blood that sent me into frenzy. The beast stirred low in my belly, and
I wanted nothing more than to give in, to take that last meal’s O-neg.

My fangs descended, and I reached for Xavier’s neck. Before he had a chance to stop
me, I sank my teeth deep into him. He screamed, surprised. I closed my mouth harder
over his neck and drank.

Xavier kicked and screamed. The tainted blood burned my throat, but I continued to
drink, to please the beast. I’d learned before that my torment was his pleasure.

“What are you doing?” Xavier gurgled; his fighting started to cease as his body sagged
to the floor. “You’ll kill yourself as well!” Each swallow burned and branded my belly
with the proof of his tainted blood, but stopping was impossible. The beast purred,
and my belly was full.

Ella

Sounds woke me. A soft accented voice, a metallic clang, and hushed footsteps pulled
me from the fog that was my dream, but fear of the unknown stopped me from opening
my eyes.

I kept my breathing steady and lay deathly still, hoping that the person in the room
wouldn’t suspect that I was awake. I remembered Kale taking me in the woods, and the
look on his face as he left me there to return to Jace and fight off Laurent’s men.
The soft female voice spoke again, but this time in a language that sounded like French.

I continued to lay there and wait, doing a mental inventory of my limbs and assessing
my aches and pains. I was but whole and able to move if I tried. My hands and feet
weren’t tied down. I was glad for that.

“Are you awake, miss?”

I lay silent, unsure of w
hether to reply or not. She sounded innocent enough, but I was lying on silk sheets.
A fire crackled in the corner, and I was sure that I was not wearing the jeans and
tee that I was in the Elmwood, so trusting the soft voice wasn’t happening.

“You do speak English, don’t you?” the soft voice asked, tempting me to open my eyes.

Fabric swished as she moved closer. I flinched, and my eyes flew open.

I choked back a gasp of surprise. She was very beautiful and very young—maybe even
younger than I was. Her blue gown seemed to swallow her. Her honey golden eyes held
a wisdom that came from things that a girl our age should have never witnessed, and
her light brown hair was placed neatly on the top of her head in a tight bun, pinned
with flowers and bright verdant vines.

She smiled, blinding me with her sharp white teeth.

She was Chorý. This girl was probably older than me by hundreds of years, and she
had called me “miss”. In her pale hand, she held a glass of water that looked so good
my throat blazed. I was too afraid to take the water. What if it were poisoned?

As if reading my mind, she handed me the glass. “Here. Master wants you to eat and
drink before you see him.” Her gaze took a serious cast. “Please eat and drink. Master
said I must make you.”

I wondered if this “master” would hurt her if she didn’t comply. Her eyes darkened
as she urged me to take the cup. I tried to sit up, but my body was stiff, and I felt
shaky.

“Here. I will help you.” Her cold hands skimmed my shoulders as she used her Chorý
strength to help me up.

The room started to spin. I placed my hand over my eyes, closed them, and counted
to ten, willing my body to adjust to the new position. Once I was ready to drink,
I uncovered my eyes and took the cup from her hand.

She smiled eagerly as I gulped down the water. Once I was finished, she took the cup
and moved a tray in front of me. My treacherous stomach growled loudly at the sight
just as I opened my mouth to deny the food. Her pretty little face wrinkled in disapproval,
and she pushed the tray into my lap.

“Don’t make him angry,” she whispered and I couldn’t help but to think that I probably
“won’t like it when he’s angry.” The stupid line from
The Hulk
pranced through my mind, and I scoffed inwardly.

Unsure of why this rebellious attitude had surfaced or where it had come from, I pushed
away the tray of fresh strawberries, grapes, bananas, and orange slices and stared
at my pretty little prison guard. I wouldn’t have been left alone with this girl if
it wasn’t believed that she could handle me if I got unruly.

She was beautiful, from her dainty nose to her too-round eyes. I wondered how many
people the little sprite had drank dry, her victim realizing too late what a real
danger she was. I shuddered at the thought.

She smiled again, and those sharp teeth made me want to move to the other side of
the bed. “Please, just a few bites. Do you think it is poisoned?” Confusion clouded
her eyes. “Your
père
would never harm you. You must know that,” she insisted.

Père?
I gaped at her. I knew that word from French class in school.

“My father is dead,” I whispered, and not on purpose; my throat was improved, but
not better.

My heart cracked at the mere thought of my father, and though I knew my father couldn’t
be there, hope washed over me.

She smiled creepily and pushed the tray back to me. “No, he is not. Now, eat.” Her
voice was soft but held a demand. “If you want, I will taste it and confirm that it
is not poisoned.”

The girl grabbed a grape, popped it into her mouth, and then grimaced.

Hmm…
I quirked a brow in question. “Not poisoned, huh?”

She ate a strawberry and then one of each items remaining on the tray. “Not poisoned,
but after two hundred years of
sang
, I’d prefer it over fruit.”

She pushed the tray at me yet again, with a bit of force. “Now. Eat.” Her voice had
lost all of the sweet charm it held before, so I ate, hating that every piece of fruit
tasted like heaven to my taste buds and wondering about the “sang” that she mentioned.

As I ate, she busied herself around the room: poking that fire, getting me another
glass of water, and folding my clothes. I watched her. Where was I? Who was she? And
where was Laurent? The woodwork over the bed was ornate, and the wood panel over the
fireplace was oak. Eighteenth century oil paintings lined the walls—all with dates
and names, all reminding me of the field trip I’d taken in high school to the Baltimore
Museum of Art. From the room, I’d think us in another country, but there was no way
that I’d been out that long, was there?

I finally gathered the courage to ask a question. The burning sensation in my bladder
wouldn’t allow me to sit quietly anymore. “Excuse me, uh…”

“Anastaise, but call me Ana.” She kept busily folding the clothes that I’d arrived
in, which reminded me. I was wearing a formfitting lace dress. The gently pleated
and handkerchief-hemmed white skirt was soft and light to the touch, and the cream
laced bodice with earth-toned beaded embellishments fit snuggly on my chest. Who had
changed my clothes?