Taken by the Beast (The Conduit Series Book 1) (30 page)

“I did what I had to do,” she said firmly, not wavering an inch from where she stood.

Indignation swelled in my heart. “You
bitch
!”

I darted to the far wall to grab an ancient-looking sword in a scabbard that hung there as one of the few adornments in the room, but as soon as I touched it, I realized it was fake. I could still give that bitch a hell of a swat nonetheless.

“This was all some plan of yours, wasn’t it? You pretended to help us so we’d let you free. And then you just did nothing while they killed him!”

Satina rolled her eyes. “If you recall, it was your other boyfriend who freed me. The cutie in the police uniform.”

“In case you didn’t know—and I’m
sure
you did—he’s the beast that’s after me. But you probably knew that all along.”

I marched toward her, costume arsenal in hand. To her credit, Satina didn’t look worried. Given the fact that she was a one hundred and fifty year old witch, had already died once, and was being threatened by a woman who had never swung a golf club much less a sword, that shouldn’t have surprised me.

She just remained where she stood, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Calm yourself, Supplicant.”

“I’m as fucking calm as it gets,” I said through clenched teeth, tightening up on the sword’s hilt.

“You’re blaming the wrong people,” Satina said, cocking her head curiously to the side. “It isn’t I who is responsible for the death of your love, nor the mob who assailed him.”

“You could have helped him!” I yelled, lunging toward her.

“I
did
,” she said, a ting of annoyance in his voice. “I helped him achieve what
he
wanted. To keep
you
safe!”

“That wasn’t his call.” I had settled in front of her, sword still in hard, but it hung limply at my side now. Fresh tears swelled on the cusps of my eyelids. “That wasn’t your call.” I wiped my eyes with the back of wrist. “Damn it, fuck you both! It’s
my
life!”

“And his life was his,” she said, her eyes flickering past me. “And I’d dictated more than enough of it. He at least deserved to die with the honor he sought.” She shook her head. “Alas, I am afraid rest doesn’t always come so easily.”

I deflated at her words. Beating Satina to a pulp wouldn’t bring Abram back, and it wouldn’t stop Dalton’s crusade. It was over. I dropped the sword, letting it clang to the ground.

“You’re not worth my time.” I shoved her out of the way and moved past her through the threshold.

My empty shell of a body glided downstairs and out the front door. The night air punished me as I stepped outside, lighting up my skin and reminding me that it would never again feel the touch it yearned for.

My entire body shook as I neared the dark mass that was Abram’s body. It was a death march, the quickly vanishing line that led to my last moments of happiness—perhaps my last moments ever. Death was coming for me next, and I couldn’t think of a better place to die than by Abram’s side, where I should have been all along.

Dalton would be here soon, but damned if I wouldn’t say goodbye first.

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as I settled over him. His body was large and rippling. His blood-soaked fur matted against his skin, and his mouth hung open, his fangs bared.

He certainly should have been a frightening sight, but he wasn’t scary at all. He was majestic and beautiful, even in this mangled, beastly state. Because I could see past it all. I could see who he really was, and I had never wanted to be near anything so much in my life.

I knelt down slowly, savoring the closeness. After today, I would never have this again. I lied on the ground, face to face with Abram. His eyes were closed, but I reached out, stroking his cheek. Sparks lit up my hand every time I touched him, and now was no different.

The tears scraped down my face like needles dragging against skin, leaving my cheeks raw and sore. But I settled my breaths. If these were to be the last moments I would ever spend with Abram, I would not to cry through them.

“This isn’t over, Supplicant.”

Satina was behind me, standing over me and robbing me of this, too. Intruding on these last moments, stealing my chance to say goodbye. In her hand, she held the display sword I’d threatened her with earlier.

“Leave me alone,” I muttered, defeated.

“And if I did, what good would it do? Fate has plans for you yet, plans that will take you to places near and far.” She inspected the not-so-sharp blade of the sword and frowned. “You have not yet seen what you need to see, not yet done what you need to do, and not yet loved in the way that will save us all.”

“Just shut up!” I screamed. I’d had quite enough of this. “Shut up and go away!”

“Why do you think Abram did this, Supplicant? Why would Abram go through this nightmare? Why would he give up so much for this crusade, for you? Answer that, and I’ll leave you … if you still wish me to.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, still sobbing painfully. I put my head on Abram’s chest, resting against his soft fur.

Satina stabbed the sword into the ground and rested her hand on it. “Yes, you
do
know.”

“I don’t!”

Her hand gripped the sword handle, and her gaze cut into me like a razor. “Answer my question, and I’ll leave.”

“I thought—I thought he loved me,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe that would make her go away, or maybe she just wanted to rub salt in the wound. None of it changed how
I
felt about
him
. “But I was wrong.”

“And yet, here you are, still alive. Because he knew there was more ahead for you. If you loved him, should you not honor his sacrifice?”

I stared up at her defiantly. “Why should I?” I asked. “Why are you letting him die? Why can’t you just bring him back?” I sat up now, wild with need. “Use my blood or something. Satina, you can’t let him die. You can’t. You could help him, I know you can.”

“Oh, child,” she said with a sigh and a slight frown. “You still don’t get it. Today is nothing”—she waved her free hand dismissively—“compared to the many trials you will face yet. You need this moment in your life to prepare you. There are worse days ahead than this one. Great lovers and more painful heartaches. Believe me.”

She didn’t know shit. I glared at her. “Nothing could be worse than this. Now do something,” I growled through my teeth. “Save him!”

Satina pulled the sword from the ground and dragged it behind her as she practically floated over to me. Setting the display arsenal on the ground beside Abram, she crouched at my side and placed her hand on my arm. I would have expected my skin to crawl at her touch, but the action seemed surprisingly … gentle. Caring, even.

“He’s not gone, Charisse,” she said, her voice soft.

“You’re gonna save him?” My voice was barely above a whisper, too afraid to convey hope.

“I don’t have to,” she said, smiling. “You already have.”

“What do you—”

She swiped her fingers under my eyes, smoothing away my tears. When she lifted her hand, her fingertips were red. My tears must have been streaming through the cuts on my face from when we broke through the glass back at The Castle.

Looking down, I saw a pool of my blood, of magical blood, soaking up into Abram’s skin. It glowed with the same golden signature it had the first time he touched it.

Oh
.

Realization shot through me like a current of electricity. My tears had carried blood from the wounds on my face to Abram’s beastly body. Could it really have … healed him? Of course I never would have thought of that … this whole having magic blood was new to me, and I still didn’t know all that I was capable of. But was I capable of saving him? Even without the ability to perform magic myself?

My gaze trailed up to his face, and just as I looked at him, I felt it.

I felt him
breathe
.

My heart sped in my chest, and a rush came through my lungs. I stood stock-still, frozen, holding my breath, waiting for another, hoping it wasn’t imagined, praying it wasn’t an illusion.

“Is he … Is he …” I was afraid to finish the question.

“Yes, Supplicant. He’s alive.”

“My God,” I whispered, my tears turning from ones of anguish to joy. “He’s alive!”

“Barely,” Satina said. “But, if he is left to heal and recuperate, he’ll rejoin us soon enough.”

“Well, then,” said another voice in the distance

My head snapped up.
Dalton
.

He moved toward me, already changing into a monster himself, one dead set on tearing me from limb to limb. “Looks like I’m going to have to put a stop to that.”

The sight of Dalton standing there, half beast and half something much worse, sent spikes of panic coursing through my veins.

Abram was still out. He wasn’t dead, which was a step above his condition a few moments ago, but he also wasn’t in anything close to fighting shape. My body tensed as I mentally recounted the last confrontation I had with Dalton. That hadn’t gone so well for me. In fact, I still bore several injuries from that attack, although, if I knew how my blood worked, that could be what saved my big beautiful ass. Unfortunately, I
didn’t
know that. Not even a little.

Dalton’s gaze violated every inch of me. It seemed impossible now that I had ever thought of him as desirable, as anything other than some horrific monster. It was all over him, in the wicked crook of his lips, in the sly way with which he slinked closer.

And then something unexpected settled over me. Guilt. He hadn’t always been this thing. Dalton was once the boy I grew up with. He was Lulu’s brother, who chased us around ponds, holding up frogs like they were knives, the boy who hid behind trees and assaulted us with snowballs every winter. He was just a boy, just a person. And now, in part because of the sickness that threatened to destroy him, he was something else.

But that was no excuse. I’d lived alongside my mother in that world for years, and no one else with his diagnosis had attempted the things he was attempting.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” I murmured, my hands pressed against Abram’s barely living body.

“Is that a joke, Char?” Dalton grinned. “Because we both know there’s nothing you can do to stop me, and lover boy over there doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to rescue you this time.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said through gritted teeth, echoing the conversation I had with him my first day back in New Haven.

“You keep saying that.” He shook his head, pacing toward me slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. His hands were claws, stretched out and ready to tear me apart. “I can smell you from here.”

My hands balled into fists against Abram’s chest. I would have liked to have said there was some marked improvement, but his breaths were just as shallow and infrequent as ever. No, if we were going to survive this, it would be on me to make it happen.

“You’re gonna wish you never came back here,” I said, my voice surprisingly strong and steady.

“You gonna strike a pose at me, Runway Girl?”

I stood, angry, scared, and totally devastated. This would likely be my last stand. Before the sun came up, I would probably watch the last bit of life drain from the man I loved and then feel the last bit of blood drain from me.

Meanwhile, Dalton would no longer have to worry about mounting hospital bills. I could almost envy him that.

Still, if I was going to die, I would go down kicking. I owed Abram that. I owed my mother that. I owed myself that.

I spied Satina from the corner of my eye, which sparked an idea. I didn’t know how to use my magic … but
she
did.

“You’re gonna be really sorry,” I repeated, this time with renewed vigor. Sticking my still bloody hand out for her to feast upon, I motioned to Satina. “Let’s finish this.”

“I’m afraid not, Supplicant,” she said, and she might as well have added, “I hope you’re wearing clean underwear, because the cops are gonna see it as they’re scooping you up.”

My entire body jerked toward her. “Excuse me?”

“This battle does not belong to me. It never has. The end must be the end, no matter how difficult it is.” She leveled her gaze at me. “The object of pain is not to avoid it, but to outlast it.”

“How very Dr. Phil of you,” I muttered, feeling my pulse speed up to about ten times its normal rate as Dalton neared us.

“You can’t trust a Conduit, Char.” He chuckled loudly. “Figured your boyfriend would have warned you about that.” His eyes flickered to Abram’s unconscious body. “You know, the first time I caught his stench on you, it took me a while to deal with it. I really thought we had something special, me and you.” He made a fake pout with his lips. “Turns out I was wrong. Oh well, just makes the prospect of tearing his throat out that much more satisfying.”

“I won’t let you touch him,” I said, my voice nearly a growl.

“If you really want to save him, then step away from him,” Dalton said sternly. “After all, you’re the prize, baby doll. You’re what the whole spectacle has been about. I’m sure you love that, vain as you are.”

“And if I do step away?” I asked, a tremble in my voice. “If I went to you willingly, you would really let him go unharmed?”

“Come to me and let me lap up that precious blood of yours, and I give you my word as a gentlemen and a scholar that I won’t touch a hair on his big bad head.” He winked at me. “He’ll have a good life, Char. Who knows, maybe he’ll find some new precious little flower to desecrate.”

“
Take the sword
.” Satina’s voice went directly into my head, bypassing my (and presumably Dalton’s) ears. Her command only made my anger burn hotter in my chest. Lord knew she wouldn’t be any help—she’d told me as much herself. But I’d saved Abram without her, hadn’t I? If I could trust Dalton about anything, it was that I couldn’t trust Satina.

“It’s fake,” I answered, eyeing where she had placed the sword by Abram’s side earlier. Did she really think I would fall for that? For all I knew, she was on Dalton’s side.

“Take the sword,” she repeated.

“I’m not an idiot,” I choked out. “It’s plaster and wood.”