Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) (25 page)

Forty-Eight

Emissary

Alexia sat, fuming as the sun set. She flicked an ant off her skirt and glared at the horizon. Her gifts were beyond Kiren’s, beyond Ethel’s, beyond all their gifts, and he would not allow her to help? Why did he insist on treating her like a child? She was an adult in every sense of the word, and simply because he was her fiancé, he believed he could order her to inactivity.

The crunch of grass pulled her about. Miles stood at the inn’s exit, head tilted, translucent eyes fixed on her. She turned back to the view.

He glided into her periphery and took a seat next to her on the ground. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, waiting for him to speak. He leaned on his knees, chin tilted upward as though contemplating the clouds. The call of birds echoed across the landscape.

She glanced at him. He met her gaze and smirked.

Alexia crossed her arms. “Have you come to talk me into his plan?”

He shrugged and went back to watching the sky.

“I am not going to concede—no matter who he sends to convince me.”

“If it brings you any solace, I don’t approve.”

“You do not?”

His head shook. “We should use every talent. Even yours.”

She huffed. “Thank you, Miles, but commiserating with me is not going to decrease my resistance or resentment.”

He grinned. “But it might make you smile.”

She couldn’t help herself. She smirked.

He rocked onto his feet and pushed up, brushing his knees. “My work here is done.”

Three days Kiren locked himself in a small room, discussing every possible outcome with his cohorts. Alexia burned her hours practicing or helping Mae with chores about the inn, of which there seemed to be a never-ending supply. How the woman had spared time to help her boggled Alexia’s mind. Edward arrived with vagabond Passionate whose entire lives had been uprooted or destroyed by Soulless invasions. So many of them. Miles appeared and disappeared, as though this much company frightened him—or he was on errand for Kiren. She heard whispers of Bellezza between him and Kiren. As the refugees poured in, she spent her days administering to their relief, Kiren at her side some of the time.

John and Sarah stayed hidden below and Alexia brought them food, occasionally lingering to talk. Sarah seemed happy, a hand always rubbing absently across the bulge at her midsection. Kiren knew only that her sister had been present when they first arrived here. Alexia had shaded the knowledge in her mind, and she worked hard to keep the secret of her sister’s continued presence. It was easier on scorched earth. They shared only what was open between them, and she despised the necessary distance it created.

A week before the new moon, Alexia stood on the inn stoop, holding in her bleeding heart. Having her other half torn away again, and so soon—she didn’t know if she could survive it! His time had been dedicated to healing, plotting, and scrambling together enough food for all the hungry mouths. Their stolen moments together had been bliss. She ached for more of them—for the period of life when he might wake her with a kiss every day.

“This will be the last time,” she whispered to herself as Kiren mounted his steed and turned back. He lifted his fingers to his mouth in a kiss and fluttered them her direction. She placed a hand over her heart and smiled just for him, still angry he wouldn’t bring her along, but understanding his need as well. He bit down, nodded, and kicked his stallion.

“Come back to me soon,” she begged quietly.

Forty-Nine

Inside

Kiren took hands with Miles and Ethel, completing the circle with Lester stationed across from him. Tree branches blocked out the stars, sealing them in an eerie gloom. The entrance to the Soulless hive lay only over the next rise, an ominous dark hole in the ground he could already feel sucking the warmth out of the air. They’d waited half an hour after sunset in order that the hive be as empty as possible.

He squeezed Miles’s hand, the signal to begin. He dove down, into their shared thoughts, and waited. Ethel’s presence hung in the blankness of their mental void. He greeted her as a haze of quick thoughts drew his notice to Lester’s consciousness, and finally the timid waver of Miles.

Ready?
The boy’s mental question rippled through all of them.

They nodded in unison.

Miles tensed. A tiny hole opened in their linked circle, sucking all warmth down through it, like water rushing over a cliff, crashing into an abyss far below. Kiren hugged his spot, holding fast to the emptiness. The gap widened. The pull increased, an icy gale ripping at him. He reached out to the others, keeping a firm hold on them, and gave each a reassuring nod. As one, they pushed off and dove.

Images hurled past. Here one of them stood in the night, gazing listlessly at the sky. There another stalked in the darkness, drawn by the succulent call of Passionate blood. One had its nails deep into someone’s spine, the pulse of life-restoring marrow screaming to him:
Fill the emptiness. Satiate the hunger. Here is a feast!

Kiren slammed his heels back down on the ground.
Miles!

The boy nodded at him. Kiren didn’t have to use his eyes—he could see through Ethel, fighting the heave of her stomach, through Lester, battling the need to pull his hands free, through the lad himself, calm in the heart of a whirlwind storm.

Deeper
, Miles said.

They all gripped tighter, plunging further. The hunger grew. It turned from a mild irritation to world-consuming ache, strangling all but the need to consume. Kiren wanted to turn on his companions, to sheer their flesh from the bones and suckle this starvation on their life-granting marrow. He bit down. Tension laced into his brain, sparking a headache. The feel of fleshy pain tore him out of his hypnosis. Miles watched him with blank eyes. Ethel and Lester twitched, caught in the thralls of battle.

Deeper
, Kiren agreed.

They submerged further and slammed into a solid barrier. It hovered, a giant metallic-looking bubble. The world, laced in sparking veins of suffering, had never been so dark. Kiren pressed forward on the heart of the Soulless’s shared thoughts, the surface solid at first, slowly giving under his press. His fingers dipped inside. White electricity shot through him. The bubble inhaled suddenly, wrenching him forward.

A distant scream sounded.

He was inside, at their core, and he could see everything. Lifetimes, people, pain, loss, animalistic sacrifice...

Focus
.

He pictured the medallion in his mind, the dull metal, the family crest of Kir.

The distractions drew away like a gathered breath, then exploded over him. One of the Soulless carried it in a handkerchief. He offered it to another, more ancient creature. The elder touched it, and his blackened finger bones shriveled to dust. He shrieked and ordered it away. It was taken down a long hall, through the curve of several tunnels, and settled in a small cavern with no light. A heavy iron door closed, and the bearer backed away, frustrated his prize had been quarantined, but they had what they wanted. Freedom was theirs—this night and always.

Kiren gasped and pulled his hands free. His three companions stood by his side, all watching him.

Miles’s head turned. “I have never been able to enter the origin.”

Kiren smiled at him, but a heaviness hung in his gut. He turned to Lester and Ethel, forcing his legs to remain steady. “Go.”

They snapped out of their stupor. Lester disappeared. Ethel dispersed into mist. Kiren leaned a hand on a tree, bracing himself up, and trying to expel the weight from his lungs.

Miles stiffened. “They know we are here.”

Kiren nodded, shivering. “We should move.”

Fifty

Delivered

Sarah’s scream rattled the rafters. Alexia woke on the floor in Mae’s room, the place she’d taken up in consideration of the families now crowding every inch of floor.

Glancing out the window, she recalled: the moonless night started this evening.

Sarah!

She stumbled down the cellar stairs, fumbling blindly until she found the ladder. Rungs flew by, and she shoved her way through the door into the subterranean dwelling.

Her aunt lay on a mattress, knees drawn up, clutching her lower abdomen. Brilliant redness coated the sheet beneath her, her eyes squeezed shut.

Alexia froze.

John knelt beside Sarah, hair disheveled, whispering assurances, but the color had fled from his face. He glanced at her, eyes wide and begging for help.

So much blood... She hadn’t seen that much since the night Kiren was shot and nearly bled out. If he were here, he could fix this. But she? She had no gift to battle so much blood loss.

She could ride after him.

But no. He was executing his plan to rescue the pendant.

John’s mouth moved in slow motion, but only a low-pitched rumble registered. She blinked, confused. Her hands were clutched in tight fists at her sides, power coursing through her. The air tasted bitter, her clothing too stiff. Had she slowed time—even on scorched earth?

She gasped and time whipped into its natural course.

“—Mae. We need Mae.” John’s nostrils flared, his usual cool a puddle of panic.

Alexia nodded and leapt back up the ladder. Clumsy clatters carried down the tunnel. She reached the top as a silhouette leaned forward, one hand blindly extended. Alexia climbed out of the hole and took Mae’s hand.

Another shriek burst forth.

“She is bleeding,” Alexia sobbed.

“It is too soon,” Mae said.

Alexia placed the innkeeper’s hands on the ladder, making sure the woman had a strong hold before descending. She climbed down after.

The pool of blood around Sarah was larger. Alexia clutched at her chest, taking quick, short breaths as she approached her sister. John held Sarah’s hand, chest rising and falling rapidly as he focused on Mae while she examined the blood-stained bed and screaming woman.

“How long has she been like this?” Mae questioned.

John’s head shook. “She complained of pains only an hour ago. I could not have known—”

“It is too soon.” Mae leaned toward Sarah.

Sarah sucked in a breath. “Can you,” pant, “stop it?”

Mae’s cheeks lifted, her eyes squeezing at the corners. “Breathe slowly.”

Sarah nodded, sweat dripping down her brow. Her mouth formed a circle and she blew out. Mae stepped into the needed role, coaching the panicked woman, and John finally backed away, escaping to the tunnel Alexia occupied and closing the door on the scene.

“She is going to die,” he whispered. “She has known all along, and I would not listen.”

“Be still, John. This is not over. Sarah is much stronger than you think.”

He growled. “I know her strength—better than most, but no one can live through severe blood loss. Not like that.” He covered his mouth. “What am I going to do without her?”

Alexia placed a hand on his arm. “You are going to be strong, for her.”

He met her eyes, his naught but a glistening of light in the darkness. He caught Alexia’s shoulders. “You can stop all this, prevent the Soulless from ever becoming!”

She shook her head. “No, John. I cannot.”

“How do you know if you have not tried?”

“My mother said—” 

“Bollocks.”

Her face burned at the vulgar word.

John shoved her away, rounding the little cavity. “It is one big fat lie, because everyone fears what you can actually do. You can stop this suffering, Alexia.” He halted abruptly, head swinging toward the closed door. He shoved through it and slammed Alexia back into darkness.

She stood stiffly. Muffled protest echoed through, and then he thrust Mae out, shutting them into near-blackness again. Mae’s quickened breathing echoed in the tunnel.

“What is he doing?” Alexia asked.

“Taking his fate in his hands.”

“What do you mean?” Alexia turned on her. Scraping noises met her ears, Mae retreating back up the ladder. “You cannot go!” she called after the inn matron. “You are needed!”

The scuffling halted. “If Sarah or the child dies, John will no longer be welcome here. He knows the terms.”

“But—”

“I cannot help someone who wishes not to be helped.” Her ascent resumed.

Alexia stood a long time in the darkness, listening to Sarah moan, scream, and at last, silence. The sudden light blinded her. John tromped out of the room, his coat clutched in one hand, a still, wrapped bundle in the other—so tiny it would have fit easily in Alexia’s palm.

She covered her mouth.

John spared a glare on her, looped his coat over his shoulders and ascended.

Sarah lay pale and unmoving in the blood-mottled bed. She had curled up on one side, her arms ringed protectively over her head. Was she dead?

Her body shook. Alexia loosed a breath she’d been holding and stepped nearer. She stopped. She didn’t know what to say to her sister. How could anyone possibly make this right? What had she wanted when they’d lost Mother, or the night she found out she was a bastard child? Certainly it was not Sarah’s presence, but her sister had been there, holding her while she digested the horror that had become her life.

She climbed onto the bed next to Sarah, ignoring the stains, and wrapped her arms around her. Sarah’s sob shook them both, but Alexia kept her silent tears to herself, hugging her sister in the only way she knew to express her love.