Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) (56 page)

As though to prove it once more, he tightened his grip on Octavian’s throat. Octavian’s eyes bulged. His fingers tore at the forearm squished into his windpipe. Gasps puffed out in clouds around his face as he fought to breath.

“Hey!” Riley took several steps forward. “Can we focus on me, please? I’m the one with the knife here.”

The creature raised his beautiful face, a cold, hard leer on his face. “So you are.”

She never saw it coming. One minute, he had Octavian on the ground, on his knees, restrained. The next— she must have blinked — there was a slam of air, the knife was gone from her hand and she was shoved back. But rather than fall, she struck something solid that quickly moved to restrain her. When the whirlwind of confusion settled, she realized her predicament a bit too late.

She stood with her back to the monster and held like a fly to his chest with a familiar hand shackled around her windpipe.

“Shhh,” he taunted into her ear when she gasped. “Fighting only excites me further.”

Riley couldn’t think let alone move, even if she wanted. This was so beyond her level of comprehension.

“You are afraid,” he crooned into the side of her face with breath that smelled of dead things. “Smart.”

“Let her go, strigoi.” Octavian was on his feet now, body a hard slab of fury.

“I can’t do that,” the creature replied evenly. “I’ve been given orders for this one and you know how important following orders are.”

Octavian’s hands flexed at his sides. “Orders by whom? Give me his name.”

There was a sick sort of joy in his voice when he responded, “Why, by the only being that matters.”

Pain unlike anything on earth erupted as her head was yanked to the side by violent hands. Fire tore through her flesh, a guzzling mess of battery acid leaking through her veins. The world spiraled as she was cast in a pit of black agony. Blood, her blood, bubbled up and fountained down the front of her shirt, soaking the material and dripping from the hem onto the mangled snow at her feet. For a moment, she couldn’t imagine why she was bleeding only that it was spilling all around her with no end in sight. She wanted to search for Octavian, to find him and ask him what was happening, but her body was no longer her own. Everything from her brain down had become paralyzed, as immobile as a fly in a spider’s web. Her bones were melting inside her, becoming thick blobs of goo no longer supporting her.

What was happening?

Riley blinked and when she opened her eyes, she found herself on her back, peering up at a night sky choked by a tangled mess of branches and Octavian’s ashen face. Snow melted into her clothes, seeping into her prone body and chilling her bones. She should have been freezing, but she felt oddly numb.

“Baby?” Octavian’s voice wavered as he scooped her up off the ground into his arms.

“I’m so cold, Octavian,” she croaked.

“It’s okay.” He pushed back her hair from her face, his fingers colder than the snow beneath her. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t feel okay. The hand she lifted to touch her neck grazed twin puncture wounds and came away stained with blood. Her blood.

“I… I think he bit me,” she whimpered. Her eyes lifted to his face, wide with fear and uncertainty. “Am I dying?”

“No!” His growl was fierce, filled with anger and panic and so much fear that it was blinding. “No, I won’t let you. Just hold on, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

The numb sensation began to abide, leaving her cold and weak. “But I’m so cold.”

Heart wrenching pain closed over his face as he pressed her deeper into his arms. “Why didn’t you run? I told you to run!”

Cruel fingers of darkness began creeping over her vision, blurring his features. “I’m sorry.” She sucked in a breath. It rattled in her chest like marbles in her chest. “But I didn’t… I couldn’t let him… I love you, Octavian.”

Tears as bright as stars glistened in his eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t say it like you’re saying goodbye. Damn it, Riley! Don’t do this. Hang on, okay?” She felt a jostle as he hoisted her into his chest and began running. “I’m not letting you die.” She felt the rush of warmth and knew they were inside. “Talk to me, Riley. Don’t fall asleep.”

“Trying.” She gave him a forced smile. “Just so tired.”

Her lashes slipped closed without her consent and didn’t open again.

“
I love you, Octavian.”

Her blood, warm and sticky, trickled from his fingers as he clutched her to him, gripping her tight as though, if he held on tight enough, she couldn’t find a way to slip away from him.

“
Don’t die.” His voice sounded hollow and tinny even to his own ears. “Baby, please…”

But her body had already gone rigid. Her breathing no longer whispered against his neck and the noise her chest had been making, a low wheezing sound, had stopped and he knew, even before he drew her away from him, that her eyes would no longer be open.

“Riley!” Cold, crippling panic snatched him from mid sleep and hurled him cruelly into reality. The sheets, damp with his sweat, roped around him, confining him to the mattress.

He tore them off, uncaring and swung his legs over the mattress. He pressed his clammy face into his hands and shuddered.

How long had it been? How long since he’d held her in his arms? How long since he’d looked into her green eyes and thought of his home back in Ireland? Too long, that’s how long. Too fucking long.

The cool hardwood felt like heaven beneath his feet as he padded into the bathroom and shut himself in for a long, cold shower. By the time he was finished, the dream was but a memory just far enough away that he could resume the pretense of sanity. He donned clothes and left his room.

Silence met him through the endless maze of corridors. Each one reminded him of all the times he’d walked them with Riley at his side. All the times her laugh had bounced off the walls. Venturing through them alone was a smack that he could scarcely bare.

In the kitchen, he turned to the storage area. He pried the door open and slipped inside.

The room smelled of rot and dust. They had a shipment of tomatoes that had been a bit riper than they should have been. Magnus, being in charge of stock shipment, had sent them back, but the damage had been done. The stench had embedded itself into everything. Octavian made a mental note to get Reggie to air the storage out.

With a sigh, he lifted a plastic crate of lettuce, set it aside before reaching for a box of napkins. He kicked the box off the trap hatch concealed just out of sight in the corner. Light sparked a curve down the protection and binding runes burned into the wood. The iron latch felt unnaturally cold to the touch. He slipped a finger into the loop and yanked the hatch open. The hinge’s squeak echoed down the dusty set of stairs. Each step groaned beneath his weight as he descended. From memory, he reached up and to the left. His hand brushed the thin piece of string. He grabbed it and tugged.

The opening was a barricade allowing no Demons in and no Demons out once they were on the other side. The thing had been meant as a safe hold for Demons that awaited transport from this realm to the other. At that moment it was empty of Demons.

The light swung wildly, splashing sick light over grimy boxes. Its haphazard dance churned the basket of fries he’d forced himself to eat earlier, but he kept his attention fixed on the clear path to the back of the dank room. Light pooled across the concrete in a square doormat. A soft hum, a melody he was all too familiar with, spilled through the open doorway, drawing him closer. Just beneath the soothing lullaby, a low, rumbling growl broke the chilled silence. Octavian knew what to expect even before he passed over the threshold.

The scene never changed, although a part of him always hoped that this time… this time would be different. It never was.

The same gloomy walls leered back at him, made harsher by the single bulb dangling from the rafters. Its light spilled in pools over stubbornly scrubbed floors, a twin bed with fresh, clean sheets and the writhing figure strapped to it. His mother sat in a chair beside the bed, humming quietly as she wrung a damp cloth in the bowl on the nightstand. She folded it carefully and rested it on the figure’s brow. It whined, struggling against its binds.

“Hush,
mo ghrá
,” his mother soothed, murmuring the word
my love
in her Gaelic tongue. “It’s all right.”

His beautiful Riley hissed, exposing jagged fangs. The flesh beneath the rag hissed. Smoke coiled in wisps. Eyes that had once been the lush green of Ireland now rolled in pools of crimson.

Octavian crossed the cramped space to stand at his mother’s shoulder. “Anything?” he asked.

The creature snarled.

His mother shook her head. “Not yet, but your father and brothers will find him.”

“There are only five covens,” he practically growled. “How hard could it be to find a single strigoi?”

His mother sighed. “Very when each coven could have hundreds, even thousands of—”

He’d heard it all before, but he was no closer to accepting the fact that a single strigoi could just vanish off the face of the planet. He was out there somewhere and Octavian would find him. He would find him and kill him.

“I’m going hunting,” he murmured, already turning towards the door.

His mother was on her feet in a flash. “You know what your father said. You’re not to go after this thing.”

“I can’t just sit here either!” he threw back at her. “My mate is turned into a monster and he expects me to just sit here and do nothing? Would he sit and do nothing if it were you?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Because you are too invested in this. You are too emotional. You are not prepared to face—”

“How many times must I fail her, hmm? What sort of man… husband am I if I just sit here while she suffers? She is here because of me, because I couldn’t protect her. She gave her life—”

“So you could live,” she cut in. “Riley loves you, Octavian. She wants you to live.”

“Yeah, well, I refuse to live without her.” He turned his gaze to where the lithe figure twisted beneath roped sheets. “I hate seeing her down here. I hate seeing her chained up like some… animal! She doesn’t deserve this.”

“I know, baby,” his mother murmured. “Do you think I like it?”

He sighed. No, of course she didn’t. She spent as much time as he did down in that hole, watching over Riley, trying to sooth her.

“He did this on purpose,” he said, still watching Riley. “He deliberately didn’t give her his blood. He wanted her to turn halfway so I would have to kill her.”

“It won’t come to that,” his mother said sharply. “We will find him and we will make him finish the transformation.” She moved closer and lightly rested her hand on his arm. “Your father will find him. He’s sworn that he will bring you to get the blood yourself. All he asks is that you stay here until he does. Please, Octavian.”

When he gave her a curt nod of surrender, she patted his arm lightly and walked out, leaving him alone with his greatest guilt.

His feet were silent as he crossed the room to the bed. Those red pits stared hungrily up at him. Lips he’d longed with every aching muscle to kiss were cracked and stained red from feedings. She eyed him, expression void of recognition. There was no longer laughter in her eyes or a smile on her mouth. Gone was his Riley.