Breaker (Ondine Quartet Book 4) (32 page)

Bastien stepped into the light. “Prove it. Kiss him.”

“Wh—what?”

“It’s what he wants more than anything. Prove how much you care about this chevalier. Give him what he wants and Sawyer will stop.”

“Don’t do it, Ken
 
— ah!”
 

I gritted my teeth. The worst part was I couldn’t confirm with my own eyes how badly Julian was hurt.

How much longer he could hold out.

Bastien chuckled. “You’re calculating how long he can resist the pain.”

My gaze snapped to him. “Shut up.”

“You have a demillir in front of you who would give his life for you,” he continued. “Someone who has fought by your side, protected you, accompanied you here. And yet you resist. Your blood runs even colder than I thought,
sondaleur
.”

My hands clenched.
 

“You’re truly Naida’s child. You don’t care about him —“

“That’s not true!”

“You would use him until the end. You would let him die if you could get to me.”

 
More thumps, more grunts of pain.

“You won’t even give in for this?” Bastien pressed. “Did you hear that Julian? Even if you’re dying, even if you’re the last demillir on earth, she still won’t touch you. You’re nothing to her.”

Julian coughed and when he spoke, his voice was but a rasp. “Don’t listen to him —“

A whoosh as something sliced through air. Julian roared in pain.

“Stop!” I panted. “I’ll do it! Just…stop.”

Silence.
 

Panic raced through me.
 
Oh God, was he still alive?

And then I heard it.

The faint rattle of Julian breathing.
 

Momentary relief flooded me.

Bastien nodded at the second Aquidae. “Paul?”

The demon reached up, undid the hook clasp, and yanked. I tumbled to the ground.

Terrible pain raced up my arms as feeling returned. I gritted my teeth and curled on the floor, letting the fiery prickle of sensation run its course.

Another cry of pain from across the room.

“I don’t know how much longer he can take,
sondaleur
.” Bastien’s boots approached my face. “You might want to get a move on.”

Another thump. No answering cry.

My heart thudded. I had to get to him.

I slowly crawled across the filthy floor, my legs and torso working extra hard to make up for my noodle arms.

I entered the patch of sunlight and paused.

Incredible warmth bathed my skin, my face. I wanted to lie down, soak in the light.

“Good idea,
sondaleur
. We’d all like to witness this,” Bastien said. “Sawyer, bring Chevalier LeVeq here as well.”

The sound of someone being dragged across the floor

Sawyer dumped Julian in front of me.

His left eye was already swelling shut. A shallow cut across his right cheek bled and his bottom lip was split.

I swallowed. “Julian.”

He barely managed to keep his eye open. His breathing was shallow, shaky. Sawyer must’ve gotten to his ribs.
 

“Not…” His eyes closed as if the effort to keep it open was too much. “Not how I imagined this would happen, sweet iris.”

“You imagined it?” I scooted in closer. “Risky presumption.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “What’s life without a little risk?”

I reached up and touched his cheek as lightly as possible. A rough stubble darkened his jaw. He turned into my palm as if seeking more.

Slowly, I raised my other hand and cupped his face.

Gently, ever so gently, I brought my lips to his.

I didn’t want to hurt him.

His lips were warm, soft, and oddly comforting.

In the middle of filth and blood and darkness, I suddenly felt somewhat like me again.
 

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out Bastien, Sawyer, and Paul, tried to push back the darkness and be fully present in my body.
 

Connected to myself and to someone else.

Suddenly those warm lips were moving against mine and I could only think of him and how much I needed to hear his voice.

It was as if a deep abyss opened up inside my chest, a space untouched by everything in this boiler room.

A place untouchable by Bastien.

That was where I sank now, where my consciousness dived in and sought refuge.
 

How I missed him. His arms, his smell, his taste. The way his skin felt against mine.

And his voice, quiet and constant, assuring me everything would be all right as long as we had each other.

“Tristan,” I murmured.

The warmth abruptly disappeared, pulling me out of that space into cold darkness.

Julian’s mouth was inches away, breath and regret lingering between us.

Nothing about it was romantic or beautiful or special.

There was only a terrible awareness of Bastien, of his perverse watching and the forced intimacy of it. Of how he’d manipulated us and the sheer powerlessness of the situation.

I pulled back. Julian stared at me, his eyes brilliant against the grime and blood darkening his skin.
 

And for one moment, the sheer intensity glittering in his eyes overwhelmed me because I knew it didn’t shine in mine.

It was desire and pain, longing and loneliness, and seeing it was a million times worse than any of the wounds currently marking his body.

I could bandage his arm and clean his split lip.

If his legs were broken, I’d carry him on my back.

But I couldn’t ease what was in his eyes.
 

“Kendra,” he whispered.

His finger roughly grazed over my cheek.

It was only then that I realized I was crying.

Rough hands dug into my shoulders and dragged me back. I stumbled, feeling sick to my stomach.
 

Paul wrenched my hands up and placed me back on that large hook like a piece of meat hanging in a storage locker.

“Nice.” Bastien sauntered forward, his unsettling eyes flickering across my face. “Did you enjoy it?”

I channeled every ounce of hate and rage into my eyes.

“You kept Chevalier LeVeq by your side, knowing he would be useful. You turned his feelings for you into your advantage. You have always feared being others’ pawn, Kendra. But the very thing you fear is what you use as a weapon.”

I looked him in the eyes. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer and tilted his head. “Ondines have a tradition of mistreating demillirs. Look at the way you breed them to serve.”

“What are you talking about?” Cam asked.

“She hasn’t told you?” Bastien said, delighted. “The reason ondines are required to mate with a demillir or human is to continue breeding demillirs. Your race, Cam Martin, exists solely because of the war. You are a race without magic, without power. The only assets you have are improved physical strength and speed. Your only purpose is to be soldiers, reinforcements to the selkies.”

The silence was deafening.
 

“Is that true?” Julian finally asked.

I couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Elementals make such a show of indicating how different they are from us, when really there is not much that divides Jourdain’s children from my own.” Bastien shrugged. “I simply am much more open about it. Paul? Please come here.”

The second Aquidae stepped forward. Bastien angled him so he stood at a slight diagonal.

He lightly caressed the Origin scar on Paul’s neck.

The Aquidae shivered, his eyes closing in ecstasy.

Bastien looked at me.

He jerked and snapped Paul’s neck. His hand clawed his throat, ripping open the Origin.

Black blood splashed against my face and dripped onto the floor.

A gagging noise came from Cam’s side of the dark.

Bastien’s eyes remained on me the entire time.

He let go.

Paul’s lifeless corpse dropped to the ground with a dull thump.

Thick blood slowly spread across the floor, melding with the darkness.

“I control my children,” Bastien said quietly. “I rule with discipline because without discipline there is no order. Like elementals, I have my laws, my structure, my society. Paul reported to me. His life was dedicated to me and my society. His role was to die today. He fulfilled his part.”

The stench of blood assaulted my nostrils and I concentrated on holding back the rising nausea.

Suddenly, the blood stopped moving.

It lifted off the ground, energy flowing off it in suffocating waves.

“I am in all of them.” The voice no longer came from the body Bastien used. It reverberated from the blood, alien and distant. “My children are a part of me just as I am a part of them. You cannot separate us just as Jourdain is unable to separate from her beloved ondines. It is why she calls you back to her. It is what it means to love, to hold on to what you love. It is why I cannot let go of Jourdain. She belongs to me. As do you,
sondaleur
.”

A steady stream of Paul’s blood poured into Bastien’s mouth. He swallowed, drinking until not a single drop remained on the floor.

He reached for my face and I involuntarily flinched.
 

“Who did you really come here for, Kendra?” He murmured. “Ian? Or me?”

I hated that I’d let him get to me. I forced myself to lean in and whisper in his ear.
 

“Ian. I’m coming for you later.”

He stepped back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “What we see and believe, what we think is real is not always true, Kendra. You’ll understand soon enough.”

Sawyer picked up Paul’s corpse like a sack of flour. He and Bastien disappeared, leaving us to the water and our traitorous thoughts.

Drip
.

Sunlight faded and darkness settled over us again.

My mind wanted to drift away, slide into that nothingness.

“Kendra.” Julian’s voice broke slightly on a sigh.
 

Weakening, slipping.

Lucidity pushed aside the threatening shroud of oblivion.

If we didn’t hold on, we’d be lost.

I’d brought them here and I would get us out.

I needed to stay and anchor us.

“I’m here.” My voice didn’t shake. Much. “You with me? Cam?”

An eternity of silence.

“Yeah,” Cam muttered. “Yeah.”

“LeVeq?”

Silence stretched as thick as the darkness coating our skin.

Please. Please stay with me.

“Julian?”
 

“Here,” he said quietly.

Listen, Kendra.

I listened to the water and with each pulse I repeated the same words over and over.
 

Drip.

I’m here.

Drip.

I’m here.

NINETEEN

Bastien turned a Healer. Her name was Leah and everything from her beige suit and matching heels to the clean straight bob framing her sharp, articulate face, spoke of meticulous professionalism.

In the filthy boiler room of the abandoned hotel, she appeared like a million dollar corporate lawyer, fixing Cam and Julian’s injuries while something coldly homicidal reflected in her eyes.

Eventually her Virtue would fade as her transformation to Aquidae took full effect.

But for now, she was easing pain rather than inflicting it.

I watched her heal Julian’s ribs. “Why are you doing this?”

She smiled, a flash of teeth. “Because He has given me true life.”

“But you are an ondine.”

“No. I am not one of you.”

“Why is he fixing us?” Julian asked.

“Every time a broken person is put back together, he changes.” She stood, smoothed her skirt, and cast her inhuman gaze across us.

“Who will you be then?”

***

I sense him. An awesome, fearsome creature whose loneliness is etched against the sea and sky.

But I can’t reach him.

He spirals and soars, a silver sun dipping behind the clouds.

I cry out, desperate and afraid.
 

But he doesn’t hear me.

No one does.

***

Another cycle of light and dark.

This time, the monster that emerged was Scabbard.
 

Dead eyes set in a waxy, cold face locked on to me.

“Anyone ever tell you to smile?” I managed.

He yanked me off the hook and dragged me forward. I stumbled, feet unused to ground, arms ineffective, mind a jumbled mess in the dark.
 

“Where are you taking her?” Julian rasped.

“Kendra.” Cam’s voice. Uncertain.

“It’s all right.” I heard the traitorous tremor in my voice. “It’s all right.”

Scabbard relentlessly hauled me up two flights of stairs.
 

Fear lodged in my stomach, threatening to take control. I willed my mind to focus, to remain tethered.

Stay here.

I mapped our steps. We were following the same path we’d taken to the boiler room. Up ahead were the swinging doors to the lobby.
 

I steeled myself for what lay behind them, but the pain was still overwhelming.

Blinding sunlight flooded my vision, pouring through the enormous windows of the hotel lobby.

Unable to cover my face, I squeezed my lids shut against the painful intrusion.

Scabbard didn’t stop. He continued, pulling me left, then right, through a set of doors and up another short flight of stairs.
 

I needed to see the layout. I needed to live. Escape.

I pried my eyes open, blinking away the white spots.
 

Colors slowly coalesced.

A hallway.

A brown stain on the right wall. A trash bag abandoned outside a door.
 

Graffiti wildly sprayed across faded wallpaper, the crass neon orange paint declaring its own truth.

we’re already dead

Scabbard abruptly stopped in front of a door. Room 319.

He shoved me inside, pushed me into the closet on the left, and snapped my arms above my head. The cuffs locked around a steel clothing rod.