Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (29 page)

The numbing sensation fell over me
quickly, and my muscles froze.    

  The young lord giggled and snapped
his fingers. Traken followed behind him, now a shadow at his side, as he
practically skipped over to me. He stopped just within hovering range and
circled, a rabid gleam in his eyes.

Traken stayed completely still. He was
staring me in the eyes, but I focused on his lord instead. I could not look at
him. 

Those long fingers and pointed nails
brushed the air around my face, stroking nothing. “Those eyes. Ooh, how
exciting, all the colors. Did you know that when your kind dies, the color
stays behind? I collected so many... most of them are yellow or black, but the
yellow ones look like they're glowing in the right light. I have jars full.
Maybe yours will end up a different color than the rest.”

I did not look at him, or make a
sound.

“Yes,” he hissed, a long finger
stretching out towards me. Its nail grated against my cheek unpleasantly.
“Those eyes that change the same as the moon. Don’t be too upset. Your fate
would have been the same with or without me, my dear. I am merely collecting on
a promise before it is swept from my grasp.”

My blood boiled and curled. I was
trying to move against Traken’s spell, wandering if he would renew it quickly
knowing that I had learned, thanks to him, how to escape it. I did not get the
chance to try; the young lord removed a small knife from inside the folds of
his white robe that bunched at his waist. He jabbed it quickly into my left
shoulder, the one with the missing sleeve, and pain shot through my body.

“I apologize,” he said, and it seemed
he was mocking me, “but we need to test your blood before the ritual, to make
sure everything is correct. I only have one shot at this. Can’t get it wrong
now, or more than one of us could end up dead.”

Frozen as I was, my insides twisted as
he caught the blood leaking down my arm with the tip of his knife. I willed
Valentina and Phernado to move, though I recognized the impossibility of it. I
knew they could feel my hatred, these cursed blades that had died with the same
poison staining their souls. The animosity in me, which for so long had
controlled my years and painted me mad, or wild, or violent… it was writhing
inside me now, like lava under stone. It wanted nothing but revenge.

If I had been afraid all these years
that my anger would dull or fade before I could find those responsible, I was
proven now that such a thing was impossible. In fact, the vile lord in front of
me had not been very wrong; it was the drive that had kept me alive all this
time, to see that someone paid for what had happened. Someone needed to pay for
destroying the innocent young girl that had once been me.

Nothing could be taken without a cost.

“Blood for blood,” I said through
clenched teeth. The boyish lord, who had already taken a step back with his
sample of my blood on his little knife, looked back at me. His disdainful eyes
narrowed.

“What?”

There was no need to repeat myself,
because suddenly I knew I could move. I sprang forward, swinging both swords
outward in a smooth arc. The surprised lord didn’t even have time to make a
sound, but I had misjudged the limberness of my newly-awakened limbs and cut
the distance a little too short. Still, the tips of the blades met his pale
chest, and a beautiful “X” bloomed on his skin.

He howled, an unearthly sound as if
pain were something he had never experienced before. Such a shallow wound
comparatively to what I had wanted to give, but his agony fed my hunger. I
relished those half-sobs, even as the air suddenly grew hot and slammed against
my shoulders like it was solid weight. I fell to the ground on my knees, and
threw my sword hands out to brace myself, still holding to them tight.
Valentina was singing in my veins, even as the magic weight pinned me to a
crouch on the floor.

“You’ve gotten faster at breaking those,”
Traken commented, his sly eyes meeting mine as he knelt to my level, “but you
went for the wrong target. Also, this new one isn’t a compulsion spell.”

I could feel that. The weight of the
magic around me was a constant pressure, and I had no doubt that Traken could
hold it as long as he liked, especially thanks to the boost he was getting from
the Week of Colors. I could move this time, but it was taking most of my
strength just to keep my chin from hitting the floor. So this was what it was
like being on the receiving end of Traken’s attacks.

“Idiot,” the lord wailed, still only a
foot away. He had dropped his knife, and was panicking, one hand on his chest,
as the blood trickled down and stained the robe at his waist. “You let her
touch me. Get rid of this now!”

Without looking back, Traken lifted a
hand and faced it behind him towards his master. That golden glow appeared, and
I saw my handiwork vanish cleanly, only leaving soft red lines in the milky
skin where the cuts had been. I saw this only out of the corner of my eye, for
my gaze was locked on Traken just as his was on mine.

Properly healed, the young lord tried
to regain his dignity and haughty condescension. He picked up his knife once
again and towered over me, his repulsive, old eyes heating my skin.

“Really, Blood Fox, to think your
mistakes would pile up so quickly. Do you know why I sent Traken, out of all my
people, to watch over you these long years and retrieve you now?” His lips
curled. “Your kind, the Children, have a way of getting under the skin. Perhaps
the sources are the cause, but people are drawn to you. If someone doesn’t like
you, they will at least find you approachable.  I needed somebody who wasn’t so
ridiculously easy to sway, so I sent out the only person who I could trust to
have the same willpower as myself, and loyalty to me… my son.”

I swallowed a lump the size of a stone,
and my guts twisted as I stared into the eyes that had suddenly become foreign.
Traken did not break our silent war of gazes either, and I saw nothing flicker
across his face. That familiar mask of ambivalence had taken over, but I knew
what was on the outside wasn’t always the same on the inside. I knew, and I
suddenly hated him.

“You’re pathetic,” I said, straining
just to form words. His master must have thought I was talking to him, for a
contemptuous smirk appeared on his face. Traken knew the truth, though, and
anger flickered through his features.

Good, get angry
, I thought. At least it meant he was
thinking for himself.
 

“It won’t matter what you think soon,”
the young lord said, and turned from me and padded barefoot back to his strange
pond. He dropped his bloody knife into it, and then clicked his fingers loudly.

I redoubled my efforts on moving,
still pinned by Traken’s increasingly disquieted gaze. Instead of an attack,
the loud snap caused the large silver birdcage above the pond to shake and
quiver. It descended to just a couple feet above the water, and as it did I
realized it wasn't as empty as I had first assumed. Curled up in the center was
a naked man with no hair on his body and pale-yellow skin. He was boney and
short, but I recognized his type when he opened his sightless eyes.

Another Angelblood.

He was not the one I had met in
Rusuro, and the stark difference in quality of life stabbed me through the
heart. This man barely looked human. Tough, vapid skin sagged on his bones, and
his frame was so small and helpless inside the cage. I felt immense pity shiver
through my body. My Angelblood’s words whispered again through my head.

Don't pity me, old one. I am far
better off than some, as you will find.

The moment I thought that, this new
Angelblood shuddered to life. He lifted the top half of his body, a skeleton of
jerky movements, and peered down with foggy-white eyes. Thin fingers groped along
the bars. He was “looking” at me, and so I finally broke Traken’s gaze and
looked back. Those lips parted, dry and chapped, then came together again. His
voice was pure wonder.

“You... you're here.”

The lord frowned. “No speaking, Birdy.
I just need a little of your essence.”

Then he let his hand fall sharply, and
the cage fell with it. When the base of it hit the pond, the water did not
splash out around the sides, but rather entered the cage and wrapped itself
ravenously around the Angelblood. Its metallic sheen covered his yellow skin as
he groaned and arched. The liquid enveloped his face, pouring through every
opening it could find. I watched, helpless and horrified, as he twisted and
convulsed in its embrace, jerking like a dying moth caught in the clutches of a
silken web.

Then the water suddenly fell away, and
the master raised his hand again. The cage flew back up to waist level above
the pool, and the Angelblood coughed and gasped, clawing at the floor of his
prison. The pond looked still and harmless once again, but its surface must
have held something of exceedingly great interest, for the boyish lord was down
on his hands and knees peering into its depths.

His long fingernails stroked his chin,
watching the still water. “It seems right.” He dipped a finger in and tasted
the surface, the shiny liquid dripping down his fingers. I thought I caught a
dim glow of colors. A shiver convulsed his small frame, and the lord smiled
widely.

“Oh yes, this is it. It is an elixir
of the gods.”

Traken turned his head to look, just
for a moment, but that moment was long enough. I shifted my weight onto one
arm, bearing the strain for just a split second.

“One chance, Phernado,” I said softly,
and swung that shining golden blade in one awkward arc. Phernado was ready,
though, and gave me that extra push. The blade sliced deep into Traken,
catching his upper arm and scraping against his chest. I struggled to yank the blade
back, and Traken’s spell fizzled out immediately. I didn’t wait—I grabbed both
my swords and rolled away, finally getting to my feet properly.

Traken hissed, amulets clattering as
he wrenched backwards. Those wild eyes landed on me again, but this time there
was much more than anger in them. Still kneeling, he grabbed his arm, the golden
aura rippling across his entire body and turning his eyes slightly golden as
well. The savage grin on his face amplified the violence in that gaze.

“Come, then,” he said, voice thick and
excited.

Immediately I ran at him, flinging one
foot out and digging my sandal into the still-open wound on his arm. He
grunted, rolling away, and jumped quickly to his feet. That golden glow was
still there, but flickering.

“Faster,” he taunted, yanking his
sword out of its sheath with the newly-healed arm. I was already there, and our
metal clashed in a flurry. The healing aura vanished, though I could see his
wounds had been barely closed, and suddenly a new tingle of magic caught my
senses. I quickly reared back and brought my swords sweeping at him from both
sides. He jumped away, losing his hold on the sources for a moment, and I
charged again, forcing him closer and closer to the pond.

“Keep her occupied for a moment,” his
lord said distractedly, working some strange movements in the air with his
hands. His magic was clunky and awkward compared to Traken’s; it was like
thunder without sound vibrating across my skin, and it was unwelcome because it
made it nearly impossible for me to tell what Traken was doing.

I made sure not to relent and twisted
around him, using Valentina’s glittering contempt to dig another deep slash
into his forearm. He had already aimed an attack of his own, though, and his
blade caught me just barely in the thigh. We both flinched away from one
another, but I made sure to duck down low when I did and swipe my leg across
the floor to trip him up. This time he jumped, and I had to roll away as his
sword came crashing down on me from above.

“Faster, Traken,” I mocked back,
lunging for him the moment I was on my feet again. Our swords clashed once
more, and our faces were only inches away. I saw a drop of sweat slip down his
cheek, and met his grin with my own. Fire rolled through my eyes. “Someone like
you has no right to stop me now.”

“You talk to him as if he’s
listening,” the young lord said from the edge of his pond. The metallic water
had swelled up into the air around his moving fingers, sliding through and about
them like a cat against its owner’s legs. “He is merely an extension of me.
Your thoughts aren’t important to him.”

“So intent on control and conquest,” I
said, eyes still locked with Traken’s. “I have no interest in these things.”

“Maybe that is your mistake,” Traken
said, and suddenly pushed our clashed blades high and kicked me hard in the
stomach. I made a sound deep in my throat, struggling for air, but jumped
forward again within a second. I thought I felt more energy fill the air,
possibly from the sorcerer in front of me, and made as if to attack him from
above with both blades. He dodged to the side, pulling back his sword arm to
stab me through my bare stomach. Immediately I dropped that pose, ready, and
fell to the ground while lashing my foot out again. This time I aimed higher,
catching him around the knees and pulling him in. He swiped at me even as he
fell backwards, his aim good, but both my hands were free and I twisted,
deflecting his blade with Valentina and letting instinct carry my body around
and above.