Living Nightmare

The guard cowered, bobbing its head in a sinuous motion.



He couldn’t act directly, but maybe he could give the woman the information she needed to help herself. It was worth a try.



He gathered her body up in his arms, bending his head over her as if feeding from her again. He could smell her fear, and for the first time, it sickened him.



“Listen to me,” he told her. “Your blood is the key to your escape. Do you hear me?”



The woman remained limp and listless in his arms. He gave her a shake, making her head loll back on her neck. Her blank eyes stared up at him.



He tried to use some of the power he’d gained from her to force her back to reality, but when he reached for it, he hit a wall. Apparently, touching her mind to tell her how to escape was one of the boundaries he could not cross.



“You need to remember what I’m saying, woman. My people can track your blood. They’re not all like me. Some of them are . . . good.”



The fact that he wasn’t one of the good ones was hard to admit, even to himself, but he knew the ring of truth when he heard it.



“One of them may find you,” he whispered. “Save you.”



And then one of the guards slammed a thick arm into him, knocking him away.



Connal hit the wall and pushed himself back up to his feet. He lifted his hands and said to the guard, “I’m done now. I’ll leave.”



The guard’s head bobbed in acknowledgment, but its claws were bare, ready to rip into Connal if he made a wrong move.



With one last look at the woman dangling from the pipe, he turned and left. There had not been a single sign of recognition in her eyes. They were as dead as the corpses lying across the room.



Grace held her tears back until she was safely outside Torr’s suite.



He was getting worse. The paralysis had crept up his body until it was becoming hard for him to hold his own head up. He’d tried to cover his weakness in front of her, but she knew.



Torr was dying.



Grace wanted to do something, but she was powerless to help. Useless. All she could do now was watch him die and give him as much dignity as possible.



Maybe the most compassionate thing she could do was kill him as he’d begged her to do so many times. She could make his death easy. Painless.



The Sentinels would hate her. They’d most likely banish her from Dabyr, but she’d accept that. Even if they executed her, she was willing to let it happen.



Torr had saved her life as well as her brother’s. She owed him her life in return.



Grace slipped inside the suite she shared with her younger brother, letting the tears take her. The first sob had gripped her body when she noticed she was not alone.



Gilda, the Gray Lady, the most powerful female Theronai in the compound, sat on Grace’s couch. Her long black hair lay perfect and shining against the gray silk of her gown. Every breath she took made the light play over her, caressing her as if it couldn’t get close enough.



As always, when Grace saw her, she stopped dead in her tracks, staring, letting the woman’s beauty and power sink into her.



Grace wiped her tearstained face and regained as much composure as she could. She knew her eyes were red and her nose was running, but there wasn’t much she could do to help that.



She bowed her head, hoping to hide her messy state as well as pay respect to the powerful woman sitting on her couch.



“I’ve been waiting for you,” said Gilda.



“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted to see me. If you’d called for me—”



Gilda raised a dainty, elegant hand. “I didn’t want anyone to know I spoke to you. What I have to say is between only us.”



“Of course, my lady,” agreed Grace. It wasn’t like she had any other choice. She was at the mercy of these people, as was her brother. They’d been kind, given her brother a home and a future. She’d do whatever they asked of her to make sure he stayed safe.



“Torr is dying.”



Hearing the words aloud made it feel more real, made it seem final. Unavoidable. Torr. Dying.



A sob gripped Grace, but she fought it down. “I know.”



“I believe I’ve found a way to save him.”



A bolt of hope speared through Grace, making her body tense. Daring to hope was dangerous, but she couldn’t stop herself. “How?”



Gilda nodded to a box sitting on the coffee table. It was made of wood, wrapped with bright silver wirework shaped into an intricate vine that scrawled across the entire surface. “With this.”



Grace reached for it, but Gilda’s harsh command stopped her. “Stop. Do not touch it until I’ve told you everything.” She waved to the empty seat across from her. “Sit.”



Grace sat.



“Inside that box is a device created by my ancestors. Their ability to imbue artifacts with power has never been matched. This device was created for the sole purpose of healing.”



“Then we should get it to the Sanguinar. Torr is getting worse fast.”



“The Sanguinar will not use it.”



“Why not?”



“The cost to them would be too great.”



“Then who can use it?”



Gilda pinned her with a cold, black stare. The light of Grace’s suite seemed to be sucked into the dark depth of her eyes, and for the first time, she saw something bleak and unforgiving inside the woman she’d come to respect. Something frightening.



In a quiet voice, the Gray Lady said, “You are the one who can save him. Perhaps the only one.”



“Why me? I’m not special.”



“Yes, you are. Not in the way of my people, but among humans, you are special. You can save him, should you wish to.”



“I do.”



“Not so fast. If you do this, you will pay a price.”



“I don’t care. Torr saved me. He saved my brother. I’ll do anything to save him.”



“Anything?”



“Yes.”



Gilda nodded. “It is as I suspected, then.”



“What is?”



“You love him.”



Grace didn’t deny it. There was no point. Gilda would know she was a liar if she did. “I love him more every day. It’s killing me to watch him suffer.”



“If you do this, he’ll be healed, but you’ll take on that suffering. This device can’t create health, only transfer it. From you to him. You’ll become weak and paralyzed. You’ll be tied to a bed or wheelchair for the rest of your life, if you don’t simply die.”



Shock left Grace reeling. She swayed in her seat, gripping the soft fabric of the chair for support.



She could save Torr.



If she did, her life would be over.



In the end, there was no real choice. “If I do this, will you protect my brother, care for him as if he were your own son?”



Gilda’s beautiful mouth curved in a slow, satisfied smile. “I vow it.”



A heavy, comforting weight settled over Grace’s shoulders as Gilda offered her promise. Her brother would be safe. Torr would live. It was all she’d ever wanted.



No. That was a lie. She wanted more than that. She wanted a lifetime with Torr. She wanted to have him love her in return, but that was just a girlish fantasy. Regardless of whether Torr got better, he would never be hers. He had bigger, more important things to do with his life than to tie himself to a human woman. She knew that. She’d always known that.



He had a destiny, and Grace was going to see to it that he fulfilled it.



“Tell me what I need to do to save him.”



Chapter 5



Nika was greeted by a line of angry faces when she arrived back at Dabyr. They were all waiting for her inside the entrance to the main hall. The glass ceiling high overhead let in the morning sunlight, and several humans sat sipping coffee in the dining area. Other than that, the place was empty, giving the angry mob room to attack.



Andra led the charge.



Her short, dark hair was dusty, and her blue eyes were bloodshot, like they got when she’d been funneling too much of Paul’s power. Apparently, they’d just gotten back from a Synestryn killing spree and hadn’t even bothered to clean up yet.



If Andra found out that Nika had taken the bone, she’d flip out and take it back to that stranger’s grave. Nika couldn’t let that happen. “Where have you been?” Andra asked, her voice clipped with thinly controlled anger.



Nika gripped the bone tighter. She still had Madoc’s jacket on, which hid her treasure. “I just wanted to get out for a while. Go for a drive.”



“A drive?” asked Andra. She stepped forward. She was more than half a foot taller than Nika was, at least in those boots, and she seemed to loom over Nika. “You don’t have a license. How do you even know how to drive?”



“TV,” said Nika, rather than give Andra the truth. Madoc had seemed freaked-out by her method of learning things, so it was best if she kept that little tidbit to herself.



Andra let out a short, frustrated sigh. “I get that you’re feeling better now, and I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are, but you cannot go running off like that without telling someone. You scared us.”



Nika looked down the line of people. Paul was there, of course—all tall and handsome. He never left Andra’s side if he could help it. And Joseph was there, too. He looked more tired than normal, which was saying something. His shoulders sagged under the burden of leadership, and his hazel eyes were rimmed with fatigue.



As the leader of the Theronai, it must have been his job to add to the scolding.



There were also two men there she didn’t recognize. One had dark skin and eyes and a quiet stillness about him. He seemed to fade into the shadow of the other paler, thinner man. They both wore the luminescent bands around their throats and matching rings on their fingers that told her they were also Theronai—probably here to paw at her and see if she made their rings turn colors.



Just the thought was enough to make her skin crawl. The blisters from the last group of men who wanted to see if she was “the one” had just finished healing. She wasn’t looking forward to another round of torture.



All she wanted to do was get her bone to Tynan and make him tell her what she already knew: It didn’t belong to Tori. The fastest way to make that happen was to play along. Nika stared at her dirty shoes, hoping she looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Andra. I didn’t mean to worry you.”



Andra sighed, releasing all her bluster. “I know you didn’t, baby. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”



Nika cringed at her sister’s infantile endearment, but refused to make an issue out of it here in front of all these people. Andra had taken care of her for years. Getting out of the habit wasn’t something Nika could expect her to do overnight. Still, she had to make a stand so her sister wouldn’t trample all over her wishes with those hard-core boots of hers. “I don’t need any help showering or changing clothes.”



“You look like you’re about to fall over.”



“I’m fine. Please just let me be. I am an adult, you know.”



Paul stepped up and put his thick arm around Andra’s waist. “She looks fine to me—just a bit dirty. We can check on her later, okay?”