Bitter Ashes (Bitter Ashes Book 1) (8 page)

Alaric crouched over the now-dead snake-man. Blood and thicker bits ran down Alaric's face and onto his chest. As I watched, he spat a thick glob of flesh onto the ground. He'd bitten the man's throat out. Alaric looked over at me with eyes that had turned entirely feline, and I was horrified to see the teeth to match.

A moment later, everything suddenly went still. All of the other intruders were dead, and several of those without armor were dead as well. James lived, though his arm hung limply at his side, and Estus seemed completely unharmed. Sophie was still lying in the corner.

I hobbled back out into the room, feeling almost as if I was floating. I didn't feel anything else, and wondered vaguely if I was going into shock again. Alaric cast one final glance at me with a face that had returned to normal, then hurried to his sister's side.

I started to step around a body, then made the mistake of looking down. It was the short-haired woman, now lying completely still. The side of her head was bashed in. I felt the pain of the blow and almost fell to the ground.

Without a thought I reached down and smoothed a hand across her face, releasing her life force. I was instantly horrified that I'd done so without thinking. What if she could have been healed? If these people could maintain their lives when they were chopped up in little boxes, maybe her head would have healed. 

I looked up to find Alaric seated against the wall, rocking his sister back and forth as he cradled her like a baby. Her body hung limp and unresponsive in his arms. 

James came to stand beside me, though his gaze was all for Alaric and Sophie. “You need to release them all,” he instructed.

“But what if they can heal?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off Alaric and Sophie either.

“They will not heal,” he said darkly. “Once we are dead, we do not come back, but we do not fully die either. It is our curse.” His voice shook as he said it, surprising me.

I closed my eyes. There was so much pain in the room that it was almost unbearable. The dead man nearest to me was the one that the lizard creature had half-eaten. As I looked at him, the pain in my stomach doubled me over. I fell to the ground and curled around myself. My cheek was in a pool of blood and I didn't care. I just wanted the pain to go away.

I forced my hand out toward the man and took his pain. As soon as he was truly dead, my own pain eased, but there was still plenty more to go around. I slowly rose to my feet in order to continue my work. 

I went around the room and took the lives of the fallen one by one. Each life that I took seemed to stick to me, leaving a little bit of itself behind. As I went, the collective pain lessened each time, just as the remnants of life force remaining with me grew.

Finally all that was left was Sophie. I could tell that her throat had been cut without even looking at her, since it was the only physical pain left that was strong enough to ring though me. The wound was not nearly as brutal as some of the others, but her pain hurt my heart more than anything else.

I could feel Alaric's pain as well, like a heavy weight on my soul, mourning the loss of his sister. The others left living felt pain, but nothing like what was coursing through Alaric's veins at that moment.

I came to stand before him, and he looked up at me with human eyes, his tears streaming down to mingle with the blood staining his mouth. I crouched across from him and looked down at Sophie. Her blood was beginning to congeal in her loose, dark hair. She looked pale and very dead.

I crouched down and reached my hand out slowly, looking at Alaric rather than Sophie. I felt his pain more than hers. His loss was almost unbearable. I meant to soothe her pain, but instead tried to soothe his.

I focused on taking that sense of loss away while I stroked my hand down Sophie's face. I felt the clinging remnants of the lives I'd taken leave me while I touched her. At first they slowly dripped off like water, then they leapt from me in a mighty torrent. I looked down, surprised at the sensation, to find that Sophie's eyes had opened. She took a deep, rasping breath and sat up in her brother's lap. The wound in her throat was gone.

Alaric looked stunned for a second, then laughed, hugging his sister to him. Pushing his arms away, she scooted out of his lap, seeming rather cranky, so he turned to me instead. Before I could react he pulled me against him and kissed me. I could taste the blood and salty tears on his mouth, but underneath that I could taste him. It was a comforting, yet at the same time exhilarating taste, that felt somehow right.

After a few seconds I managed to gather my wits about me and pulled away. I looked into Alaric's eyes as they sparkled with joy, and couldn't help feeling somewhat joyful myself. We laughed together, covered in blood, and surrounded by corpses, and I knew with a surety that my life would never be the same again. Maybe I didn’t want it to be.

No one said a word as Alaric helped me to my feet, then guided me around the carnage. Those who watched, looked at me with wide eyes, like they didn't quite know what I was. Alaric continued to smile, paying them no heed.

I met Estus' gaze just before we left the room, and he gave me a small nod of recognition. I didn't like the nod. I wanted as little of Estus' attention as possible, and I had a feeling that I'd just gained his undivided interest.

I shivered as we walked out of sight. “Why do I get the feeling that I did something highly out of the ordinary?” I whispered, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. 

Alaric glanced down at me in surprise. “Should we not be amazed that you just brought my sister back to life?”

Hearing him say it out loud made things seem all too real. I was just coming to terms with the idea that I could kill with a touch, but people killed things all the time. Bringing someone back to life was a little more difficult to digest.

“I mean, can't you all do things like that?” I asked, knowing it sounded dumb.

“No, Madeline,” he said softly as we neared my room. “I've never even seen an executioner perform such a feat.”

“Maybe it was just a fluke?” I suggested. “Like some sort of miracle?”

“Miracles don't happen in our world,” he stated as the smile finally slipped from his face.

I shook my head and looked down at the ground. “They don't happen in my world either.”

We reached my room and kept walking, though since I really didn't want to be left in my room alone, I didn't question it.

“Why didn't you run?” he asked suddenly as we took another turn in the hall. He still huddled close to me, as if he was afraid I might disappear.

“What?” I asked, startled because my mind had began to wander.

“Why didn't you run when we were attacked?” he clarified. “We were all distracted. You'd think it would have been the perfect opportunity to escape.”

I shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I thought about it.”

“But?” he prompted when I didn't elaborate further.

I sighed. “I don't know how I can go back, knowing what I know now. If there's some way to control my gifts . . . ” I trailed off.

“You would regret not staying to find out,” he finished for me.

I nodded as we stopped beside a closed door that looked like all the others. Alaric opened it to reveal a bedroom that looked much more modern than mine. The bed was simple, with a deep blue bedspread and several fluffy pillows. The rest of the room was taken up by a large dresser, a desk, and a bookshelf whose contents had overflowed onto the floor.

As we walked inside, I crouched down and picked up one of the books, but it was in a different language. I put the book back down quickly as I noticed the blood on my hands. It was probably on my face as well. I felt sick and dizzy enough that I had to sit on the edge of the bed before I lost my feet. Alaric shut and locked the door, then came to sit beside me.

“Is this your room?” I asked numbly.

“I figured you might want some space,” he explained. “If I had put you in your own room, you would have been bombarded with visitors and questions soon enough.”

I took a shaky breath. “Good thinking.”

I laid back on the bed, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I was beginning to question everything I knew, and everything I thought I was. Alaric sat beside me, watching me quietly and not complaining that I was getting blood on his bed.

I met his eyes as the gears slowly clicked in my mind. I was no longer a part of my old world, and I wasn't sure I really ever had been. I knew with a surety that I was going remain among the Vaettir to learn more about my gifts, even if it meant I had to kill a few people. Did that make me a monster, or did it just make me practical? Who knew.

My name is Madeline Ville, and I'm a human being.

––––––––

Part Two

Three Days Later

“I
t's time,” Alaric announced. He was dressed in gray sweats and no shirt. I would have felt more comfortable if he was wearing a shirt, but I knew that if I said anything, he would only tease me. His long black hair was tied back in a low ponytail, making his dark eyes stand out.

“I don't think this is a good idea,” I began.

I had been waiting in my room, already dressed in my own workout attire of black yoga pants and a matching sports bra, but now my nerves were kicking in.

“Of course it is,” he replied happily as he grabbed my hand and pulled me up off the bed.

We hesitated for a moment as he held my hand, and I almost thought that he might kiss me again, but then he simply led me out of the room. I trailed behind him with a nervous flutter in my heart.

It had been like that the past few days, ever since he'd kissed me while his mouth still dripped with the blood of a man whose throat he'd bitten out. I wasn't sure if I even wanted him to kiss me again. The sight of him spitting out the gob of flesh that had once been a man's windpipe was a bit unsettling. More unsettling still, was the fact that I had enjoyed the bloody kiss afterward.

We left my room to find James waiting for us in the hallway. I found the golden-haired, handsome man way more unsettling than anything else put together, and that was really saying something.

The look in his extremely pale blue eyes was friendly enough, but I knew better. I might have been the clan's executioner, but James was the questioner. He was the one that tortured men and women until they were weak enough for me to easily relieve them of their lives. Some might argue that what I did was the greater evil, but at least I didn't enjoy it. James very much enjoyed his job. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, sincerely hoping that he wasn't planning on joining us.

James laughed. “Like I would miss the little mouse receiving her first lesson in combat.”

“Just be careful that she doesn't turn her training on you,” Alaric commented. “You might have all of the torture techniques, but Maddy has the follow through.”

James looked down at me smugly. “I'm okay with follow through. Be sure you save some of it for this evening.”

“This evening?” I asked, trying to hide how nervous I felt at the prospect of having to
work
with James.

“We have another traitor in our midst,” he said ominously.

I felt like I wanted to cry. Another traitor. The last traitor had looked into my eyes while I stole his life away. His last thought had been of never again seeing the one he loved. I had felt every excruciating moment of it. His pleading eyes had visited me in my nightmares every evening since. 

James watched as the emotions played across my face, then seemingly satisfied, turned and walked away. Alaric glared after him.

I tugged on his hand, but he kept glaring, deep in thought. I could feel the edges of his anger burning lines across my skin like tiny flames.

“I'm sensing some sort of rivalry there,” I observed.

Alaric still didn't look at me. “No rivalry,” he corrected, “just moderate hatred.”

“How can hatred be moderate?” I questioned as we began walking again. “Hatred is the extreme.”

He finally looked over at me, expression unreadable. “That's not true. There are many different types of hatred. I doubt you've felt any of them.” 

I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Alaric turned to me, still looking angry, then his expression softened. “I meant it in a good way. You don't seem to be the grudge-holding type. Hatred gets you nowhere, but even knowing that, it's difficult to avoid.”

He was right about me not holding grudges, but I still didn't like the accusation. “I'm still angry about being kidnapped,” I offered. “That's a grudge.”

“Yes,” he replied, “but you're also still cooperating. You could have tried to flee when we were attacked, but you came back to help instead. You're angry, but you don't hate us. You don't even hate Sophie, and that's . . . uncommon.”

“I appreciate Sophie,” I admitted. “She doesn't try to tell me pleasant lies. She never has.”

Alaric looked surprised. “And I do?”

I started walking again. “I'm not sure yet, but you do pretend like nothing is wrong when your people are in the middle of a war.”

“
Our
people,” he corrected as he caught up to me.

Our
people. I still hadn't quite processed the fact that I was one of the Vaettir myself. To sound monumentally cliché, I'd always known I was different, but I never would have guessed I was a member of an ancient race populated with people and creatures that were quite literally the stuff of fairytales. Being a little empathic was one thing. Living in a magical domicile with people that killed each other for being
traitors
was quite another. The Vaettir were old school, eye for an eye, types, and I wasn't sure if I would ever get used to it. That was, if I continued trying at all.

“Our people,” I agreed slowly, “but you've distracted me. Why do you hate James?”

“It doesn't matter,” he replied as he stopped to hold a door open for me. “Just as long as you don't trust him.”

“Well I don't really trust anyone these days,” I said, then instantly regretted it.