Soren
Water dribbles down heavy mildew stained stone as I blink into the glare of flickering fluorescent lights. Patton pants beside me, grunting in pain as my mind catches up to my body.
My wrists are bound with iron shackles and strung up over my head with a chain connected to the ceiling. My back is to the wall, however, and I’m… seated, my legs stretched out in front of me, my thigh brushing Patton’s.
I close my eyes against a searing pain along the left side of my head. I taste blood when I lick my lips and realize I must have been struck on the side of the face with something heavy and blunt.
“Pat? You good?”
“I dunno,” he murmurs. “I can’t feel my legs.”
I open my eyes, straining my neck to look at him and notice the blood seeping through his thick, goose down jacket now flayed open down the center. He got stabbed. That’s obvious, but I think we’ve been out for a while judging by the total numbness in my arms, so the fact he’s awake and talking is a good sign.
A rattling echoes toward us down a long, narrow hallway. A door only twelve feet from where we’re bound is resting ajar, and a shadow moves into view.
My hackles raise as an unfamiliar man steps into view, leaning down over Blake, who’s strapped to a chair, blood pouring from his eyes, nose, and ears.
I might have seen Hannibal once, at least I thought I did. Andrea always had powerful, rich men around, especially when Patton was her whore, but I would have never forgotten this man.
He has to be over seven feet tall–tall, and… thin. His dark, golden blond hair shakes as he turns ever so slightly to the side where sharply pointed ears poke through the silken strands that fall over her shoulders like golden satin. He’s… a fucking attractive man. Beautiful, like a woman. It’s odd, really, looking at him, trying to place him, trying to fit this creature to his name. He’s… younger than me. He has to be. His skin is flawless, showing not a single sign of age.
“You’re as strong as I thought you’d be,” he croons to Blake who’s trembling so hard his iron shackles rattle incessantly as Hannibal places his fingers against his forehead. Light shimmers over Blake’s skin, and he screams–an agonizing scream that settles in my bones and twists my stomach into a tight knot. “Let me know, Mystic. Drop your shields and show me your secrets.”
Blake spits blood, his eyes a milky violet lacking their normal luster, like he’s being drained minute by minute.
“What are you hiding?” Hannibal continues, smoothing his hand over Blake’s forward when the light retreats.
Blake lurches like he’s just come out of Hannibal’s magical grip and slumps forward, struggling for breath. Tears mingle with blood on his cheeks. So much blood.
Hannibal’s torturing and killing him right in front of me.
I don’t like Blake. I fucking hate the guy, but he doesn’t deserve to die like this.
Metal sings as Hannibal turns back to Blake wielding a knife this time and traces it over his forearm. “You’re an odd man, Blake. I haven’t seen one of your kind so strong in… thousands of years, admittedly. The gods would be so jealous of what you can do and see.” He slices through Blake’s shirt, smiling to himself. He draws the tip of the blade over Blake’s forearm until he draws blood, smiling as he says, “I didn’t think you’d bleed red. Oh, it’s a shame, really. To think that I have to wait another generation or two for someone from your line to come into their full powers. You’re still mixed with beast blood. Unclean, we call it back home.”
Blake holds his gaze, unblinking, unafraid.
Hannibal inspects the bloody knife as he brings it to the light then tips it toward Blake’s forehead. “I suppose studying your brain would show me everything I need to know.”
Blake grunts, his chains rattling, and closes his eyes as Hannibal slices over his forehead, and I…. Not like this. Blake, the biggest fucking prick I’ve ever met, isn’t going out like this.
“Fuck off, you fucking monster,” I snarl, my voice echoing down the hallway where Hannibal pauses and turns to look at me over his shoulder.
His surprise is quickly vanquished and turns to a sick kind of smile, and his eyes are… nearly white. White and silver, a strange, unearthly combination. I bristle as he straightens, turning toward me, his lanky, too tall to be real body stepping through the doorway.
He tucks the knife in his belt as his smile fades, his eyes narrowing on mine.
Patton hangs his head with an exhausted groan.
“Hello,” Hannibal says with the softest, most curious of smiles. “You’re Soren, aren’t you? I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I bet you have,” I remark, rolling my neck.
He turns his head to look back at Blake but then settles his gaze on me again. He looks me up and down appraisingly, then sighs heavily. “I would have had you culled years ago had Andrea not begged me to keep you alive. Apparently, you’re rather exceptional in bed.” He hums a laugh, glances at Patton, and leaves, saying as he passes the door into Blake’s torture chamber, “I’ll be back soon. Think about making this easier on both of us in the meantime.”
His footsteps recede down the hallway until silence hugs the space, and the echo of a heavy, likely guarded, door rushes toward me, confirming, I hope, that we’re alone.
I shift to my knees to give my arms some slack, but suddenly the iron shackles give way, falling to pieces. My numb arms fall to my side out of my control. Patton’s, too, slump, and he rocks forward, wincing as the same tingles rip through his muscles as our blood supply returns.
“Soren,” Blake grinds out, his voice choked with pain. “Come here. Hurry.”
I rise with effort, scanning the broken pieces of iron as I rub my arms to wake them up. “Did you do that? With your powers?”
“Yeah–”
“Break yourself out, then, come on,” I urge, glancing around the stone room where he’s bound to the chair. He shakes his head, his face and neck covered in blood.
I lose my patience and start yanking on his iron shackles until the metal warms and bends.
“Blake, you have to help me out here–”
His powers surge but only faintly. Metal clicks, and I pull the shackles open, but the second he’s freed, he grabs my shirt and pulls me close, our noses touching.
“Blake, come on, we don’t have time for this–”
“Take Patton and go,” he says, his tone dark and pleading. “Get out of here. There’s a door at the end of the hallway. It’s unguarded. She has men guarding the exterior, but you can get out. Go to the shore and wait. They’re coming–”
“Come on,” I bite out, grabbing his arms to pull him out of the chair, but he twists the fabric of my shirt, refusing to move. “We’re not doing this dramatic, leave me behind, save yourself, shit.”
“You have to leave me here to die.”
“Fuck that. Get up.”
“You must–you don’t understand–you can’t–”
“I don’t give a fuck, Blake. Maeve will kill me if I don’t bring you home. You’re going home. We’re going to get out of here and you can use your powers to spirit us back to–”
“Go to Crescent Falls,” he rasps, the light draining from his eyes in real time, “and find Marianna. She lives–she lives in the Wildstone Pack territory, near Shadowcrest.”
“Blake, you’re getting out of here–”
“You have to find her and t-take her where–where you hid your marks.” The panic in his voice gives me pause. He’s shattering right in front of me as blood gushes from his ears like Hannibal scrambled his brain. Maybe he did, in fact, break Blake beyond repair, because this emotionless bastard has tears in his eyes as he says, “I tried. I tried to s-save her. I did everything I could. Every mark I gave you–”
“Blake, enough, we need to go. You need to get up!”
His grip tightens on my shirt, but his hands shake.
“Our d-daughter–” he cries out. “You have to take them. You have to hide them, Soren, please!”
“Daughter?” My mind reels without a place to land. I lean away from him, but he pulls me back in, gritting his teeth.
“Skye,” he breathes. “ She’s–she’s six. Marianna will understand–understand why she’s going away. She knew–she knew from the beginning that something like this might happen. She’ll know what to do. We had a plan. Please–they both have to go. You have to hide them–”
“From what?!” I shout, grabbing his shirt and tugging him upright. “You’ve lost your mind, Blake. You don’t really have a daughter. Hannibal fucked with you–”
“You have to save them,” he whispers, and his expression is so raw, so broken, so absolutely, utterly unhinged. “I tried. I’ve been trying for years to save Marianna, but she–her timeline–I can’t–I can’t fix it.” He starts to pass out, gasping for breath, and I’ve had enough.
“We’re not dying here Blake. Look at me!” I slap him soundly, trying to bring him back to reality. “You’ve been tortured, okay? Your brain is coming out of your ears. I have to get you out, but you have to help me, okay? Patton got stabbed. I don’t know how bad, but I can’t carry you both. You need to walk–”
“Take them where you–”
“No, you’re going to shut the fuck up now,” I growl then yank him out of the chair. We stumble backward, but I steady myself against the wall as Blake slumps in my arms, unable to hold himself upright. “Blake, come on, man, you gotta work with me here. We’re getting out, okay? I’m not dying here. I’m not letting you die here.”
Blake has a kid? What the fuck? Obviously no one knows about this. Maeve would have mentioned it. No one in the family said a Goddess-damned word about it.
“Fuck,” I curse, dragging him through the doorway where Patton is feeling along the wall, trying to remain upright. “Pat, you gotta help me. We have to go.”
Patton grabs one of Blake’s arms, draping it over his shoulder. Together, we drag the bastard down the hallway until we reach the door, which is, in fact, unguarded, but only from the inside.
Andrea whirls toward us the second the door opens, her face twisted in murderous rage. A room comes into view, half of it exposed to the elements, where a bleak, gray landscape spreads out in the distance and wind whips a thin layer of snow into a frenzy.
Beyond that, nothing but miles, and miles, of an angry sea take up the rest of my vision.
Where the hell are we?
My eyes lock with Andrea’s, ignoring the two burly men–Hounds–rushing toward us to her aid.
“I’m really going to enjoy this,” I tell her, smiling wickedly.
Her eyes flare a bright green with her magic. Her fingertips turn silver as her lips part in a snarl, but then the floor beneath us trembles.
Stone falls from the roof and shatters on what remains of the brick floor.
Andrea’s murderous rage flickers to confusion as she glances behind her. “What–”
A shockwave of energy rips through the building, sending more stone caving in. I rip Patton and Blake to the side as rocks the size of small SUVs fall, landing on the Hounds with a wet crunch. Andrea screams, but it’s too late. I fall to the ground, covering Patton and Blake with my body as bright, searing, silver fire erupts all around us.