Mist & Whispers (24 page)

He didn’t have to glow for her to realise the magic had begun.

A pain shot the length of her arm, spreading right out from her wrist, up to each fingertip and down to her elbow, making her arm feel as if it were going to burst open.

The veins began to pop up, right to the surface of her skin, small lumps undulating along them like a caterpillar shuffling its way across her arm. White spots filled her vision as faintness greeted her, and her stomach tumbled over itself repeatedly, leaving her sure she’d cover the King with puke before it was over.

Initially, the infusion felt hot, but it cooled quickly and soon, ice filled her blood. The white spots vanished, and she began to shiver and sway. She could feel the colour draining from her face, and the last thing she thought before he pulled away was how much she wished she was in a hospital, being monitored in case the procedure had gone wrong.

‘Anya? Anya?’ It was Theone, but his voice didn’t sound right. It echoed, the sound waves bouncing into her ears from different directions, giving him a sense of omnipresence.

She blinked hard, trying to stop everything around her from spinning but nothing helped. Still, the King did not let go of her arm until the blood had been switched. Once it was over, he helped her to sit.

‘I’m freezing,’ she said, a cold sweat pouring from her trembling forehead.

‘I can see; your lips are blue.’ He picked up a small branch from the ground beside them and conjured a flame at one end. ‘This should make you feel warmer. I can’t explain it, that shouldn’t have happened. Blood transference has never done that to anyone before. If anything, it should have made you feel really warm and slightly nauseous. Do you think you can go on?’

With Lorcan already heading into battle with the Black Dragon and only a matter of time before Eleazar and Morcades returned to the castle, there was only one answer she could give.

‘Yes. Just help me up, I’ll be fine.’

‘Do you remember what I showed you, how to take the enchantments down?’ He put the fire out and helped her back to her feet.

‘Yeah, I remember.’

‘Good. I’ll make my way to Harrion and the others, and pray Lorcan does us proud. Even if the Crown Guard do not make it, I’ll come for you.’ And with that, Theone was gone.

Anya closed her eyes. She remembered the look on Steph’s face as she screamed at her to run, not even an hour ago.

She crossed her fingers in the hope that Eleazar and Morcades were still out there, and set off into the forest, ready to give herself up.

S
HAKEN AND FEVERISH
from the merge of magical and mortal blood, Anya emerged from the bank and took shelter among the fallen trees, the victims of Eleazar’s fury when he sent her flying through the air. She could still feel where each tree had collided with her back, and looked forward to Theone healing her later. For now though, she needed her injuries for the ruse.

She tucked herself beneath a fallen trunk and tried her best to spy on the clearing where Eleazar and Morcades had apprehended her and Steph. The shadows that clung to the sky were thicker than usual – perhaps they sensed a shift in the status quo? – and without one of Harrion’s enchanted lanterns, she was struggling to see anything.

She contemplated what she should do next, then remembered that before she could move, before she could risk anyone finding her and making her drink the Dark Blood, she had to put the rest of her plan into action.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the jar Theone had summoned from the medical hut. Inside were the three Vampyre Leeches that Grinling had been studying.

She brought the jar level with her reddened eyes and shuddered at the sight of them. ‘Right, listen up,’ she said, her voice aquiver with the effects of the magic transference. ‘I don’t want to do this anymore than you but we have no choice. I promise I will let you go as soon as I can, so don’t freak out. And hopefully I won’t freak out either.’

She took a deep breath then opened up the jar. As she reached inside the leeches craned back their necks, expecting to be fed. Grinling had them trained well.

‘Don’t worry, with any luck you’ll have plenty of food really, really soon,’ then she fished around the jar until she had one of the little creatures between her fingers.

She retched a little at the feel of it in her hands. It was covered in a black, stringy slime, much like raw egg. Bad egg too, by the smell of it.

‘Steph better thank me for this,’ she said to herself, and then she opened her mouth and placed the leech as far back onto her tongue as she could.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to run around in circles, shaking her hands in the air and making grossed-out noises like a squealing schoolgirl but thankfully, the chill in her blood was growing colder, and the nausea and dizziness suppressed the urges.

She closed her mouth, trying her best to ignore the rancid bag of blood sinking its teeth into her tongue, and climbed out from under the tree. She walked around for a while on weak feet, focusing on looking conspicuously inconspicuous, so that if she were to be found, it wouldn’t appear as though she was leading them into a trap.

Still shaking, she wiped her sleeve across her forehead, trying to soak up the beads of sweat that were dropping onto her eyelashes. Then her concentration started to slip and she found herself blinking at everything, her wandering aimless and unsteady. She thought about the moment when her and Theone’s wrists had met – the flash of heat followed by a shivering, subzero pain that bit at her insides. Theone said that had never happened during magic transference before. Why had it happened to her? And why was she so cold? Maybe something had gone wrong with the blood switch? Maybe Grinling hadn’t quite removed all the venom from the leeches? Whatever was happening to her, she couldn’t control it. All she could do was fight and hold on to that little beat of fire in her heart, but simply walking was becoming a battle in itself.

‘There you are little birdy,’ came a voice from behind her. She fell to the ground, partly to show Morcades she’d given up running, but mostly because her legs had begun to shake violently.

He came toward her, his face still obscured by the hood of his robes and a phial of white liquid in hand. ‘I knew you were the one with the magic blood.’ The lid of the phial vanished as he brought it close to her nose, and the tempting aroma of cinnamon was thrust upon her. Her hands desperately cupped the phial and, just as it had in Silver Forest, the liquid turned a damning shade of black as it touched her lips, spidery little hands reaching for her mouth, desperate to strangle the magic Theone had given her.

Inside her mouth she felt the leech retracting its teeth and opening its own mouth wide, so wide in fact, Anya almost choked on it. It must have sensed the blood about to be delivered.

The cinnamon flavour was divine as it washed over her taste buds, but it was soon stolen from her by the creature quickly expanding from its feed. She found herself jealous of the little beast, but deep in her conscious she was thrilled her plan was working. ‘Let’s get you to the boat, hmm?’

T
HE FROZEN SURFACE
of the lake cracked and shifted as the boat glided through it. Morcades stood on the bow, willing it onward whilst Eleazar sat arrogantly twirling one of Steph’s arrows, watching the girls he’d found in the forest. He looked upon them like they were a banquet laid out before him; a feast all of his own.

Steph sat, staring through their surroundings as if they were made of glass. She looked ill. Her eyes were heavy and red, and her skin had turned a shade of grey. The Dark Blood was taking its toll. Anya glanced at her friend, wondering how long it would take for the effects to wear off. It was painful to see her in such a way. Not smiling, not warm and glowing – not
Steph
.

The hairs on Anya’s arm stood bolt upright and she could see each and every breath escape ahead of her. It was colder on the lake than anywhere else she’d been in the Kingdom. She held herself tightly, trying hard not to let it show that inside her body, coursing through her blood, Theone’s magic was changing her.

She kept her sights on the castle. It was surrounded in mist, and though it still stood tall, it was as much a prisoner as she was now, chained by its aura of damnation.

It was still a spectacle, even with the Darkness and the neglect from its new ruler. Pearlescent, octagonal towers rose from its main body, a body that appeared to have risen from the very rock it stood on and formed as naturally as a mountain. Hints of the Royal’s blue could be found in the details around the windows, painted on the pearl walls, and in the slate tiles of the roofs.

As the boat neared the dock, a shrill cry leapt out of the sky, and though she could not see him, she knew the battle for Lorcan had already begun. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, for if there were Gods out there somewhere, she’d want them to watch over the Dragon-Boy closely.

After passing through the castle walls, the girls were marched up a set of steps that spiralled around one of the towers. The thought of the sheer drop beside them became harder to bear the higher they climbed; one slip of the foot and they’d be on a one way trip to that great big light at the end of the tunnel, and Anya was already shaky as hell. For a moment, she considered pushing her captors over the edge, then thought better of it. Eleazar had wings, and Morcades appeared to have the power to shimmer from place to place, not to mention probable immortality; God of the Damned sounded like a job that came with eternal benefits.

Inside, the castle was lit as the camp’s pavilion was, only the bowls of fire that levitated through the halls were shaped like floating butterflies, the flames that rose from them burned menacingly white, devoid not only of colour but warmth as well.

A fine mist of grey hung in the air, making the dark corners of the castle appear like chasms, black holes that could house all manner of monsters and creeps. Anya was on edge as Eleazar leading them, and not because of the creepy corners. Within a few passages from the castle entrance, Anya discovered what had become of the missing women of Virtfirth.

They had been enslaved to Eleazar and held in the castle, down-trodden by the effects of the Dark Blood that so clearly presented itself upon their faces. Like Steph, their eyes were red and heavy, and their skin had greyed, only theirs was a much darker shade.

As terrible as the blood transference made her feel inside, at least it gave Anya a similar appearance to all these women. Otherwise, her captors may have noticed that the Dark Blood was actually fed to the greedy little Vampyre leech that was still nestled on the back of her tongue, instead of their intended victim.

The women of the castle meandered from room to room, carrying out jobs such as mopping floors and cleaning clothes, but their minds looked like they were somewhere else completely. Some of the women must have been members of the Royal family, as they had butterfly wings too, though they were wilted, presumably another effect of the Dark Blood.

The more Anya saw, the angrier she felt. There were courtyards with other noble looking men, grotesquely leering at scantily clad, grey women who were dancing around them, their bodies provocative yet their stares as vacant as a starless night.

Through closed doors that she passed, she could hear sobbing and even screaming, though the screams were defenceless. Her fists balled in frustration. Right now, there was nothing she could do to stop the atrocities that were happening in the castle. She had to wait, and bide her time until she could take down the enchantments. Until justice could be had.
Hold on
, her thoughts spoke to the women.

Eleazar lead them through corridors, up flights of endless steps, across open bridges, from tower to tower, until they came to a room in the west wing of the castle. A nod of his head was all it took for its grand, gold doors to open, and as they did, Anya could see that they were standing in the doorway of a chamber fit for a queen.

On a dais in the centre of the room sat a bed, with eight posts and pale pink, crushed silk drapes. The blankets and cushions were a mix of pinks, pastel greens and gold.

On the bed lounged three young women, only these women weren’t like the rest. The lights of their eyes were dazzling, and their skin glowed a perfect, even-toned peach. Their dresses were made with luxurious fabrics, so stunning that Anya thought they must have been raided from the Queen’s personal dress collection. And on their backs, the signature of their heritage – butterfly wings. These young women were Royals too.

‘We have another two joining us for dinner.’ Eleazar looked Anya and Steph up and down, sneering at their mix of militant and own-world ensembles. ‘Make them look like women, will you?’ Then he took a tendril of Anya’s hair between his fingers and breathed over her slowly. ‘And do something with this.’

By this point, Anya had zoned out. She’d had to – the temptation to turn around and drive her vambrace right into his lecherous face was as hard to resist as a cinnamon pastry, and would have been just as sweet, too.

‘Oh and, Evarain,’ Eleazar said, addressing one of the voluptuous blonde women. ‘Your Aunt will be along soon. Put her in something colourful, Morcades is tired of seeing her in black.’

Evarain smiled, her face as sweet as acid. ‘Of course, Sire.’

‘
URGH, FILTHY HABIT
, nail biting,’ Evarain said, holding Anya’s hand as if it were riddled with leprosy, a look of revolt cracking her otherwise pretty face. ‘At least the hair I can work with.’

Anya sat in front of a white dressing table, with a mirror so big almost the entire room behind her could be seen in it. She hadn’t argued as she was pushed toward it. It meant she could keep an eye on Steph whilst these women played dress up with them. Behind her, the other two women were arguing over what colour dress would go well with Steph’s hair while Steph sat there, staring through it all just as she had on the boat.

Her friend’s behaviour had her worried. How could they possibly get away if Steph wasn’t with it?

‘I’ve outdone myself,’ Evarain announced, causing Anya to look up at her. As she did, she caught herself in the mirror and started.

A glance ago, Anya had been wearing her usual little t-shirt, dragon hide breast plate, skirt and trainers. Her hair had been its usual crazy and her face had been without any make up whatsoever. Now, looking straight ahead, she could barely recognise herself.

Diamonds and black flowers adorned her hair, which was now up in layers of plaits and twists, whilst her eyelids had been painted in rich blues and silver, making the ice of her eyes shine even brighter. Her complexion was as clear and as perfect as a china doll – even her freckles were nowhere to be seen. And the dress... The dress was breath taking.
She
was breath taking. And she hadn’t even felt the change. 

Her mouth gaped, giving the leech enough room to wriggle, reminding Anya she was still herself on the inside, and that somehow, she had to get rid of the wretched little thing without anyone noticing.

Behind her the other women gasped.

‘Oh, Rainy! Father will be pleased!’

Father?
Wait – were these Eleazar’s daughters?

Evarain must have noticed Anya’s ears prick up at the word father, as she smiled, the same perverse smile as Eleazar, and bent down to whisper in her ear. ‘That’s right. Our father is the King, so if you don’t satisfy him, I won’t let you wear a pretty dress next time.’ Anya bit her tongue, desperately trying to keep her revulsion hidden. ‘And that would be a shame. White suits you. It’s so innocent. So... untouched.’

Anya shuddered. Evarain was talking about her father, for crying out loud! And she was smiling about it too. There were so many levels of wrong to this, she didn’t know whether she was shocked, repulsed or plain horrified. There was no doubt about it now; she had to get out of there, and she had to get Steph out of there too.

She needed a distraction. Time was slowly melting away from her and she needed to take down the enchantments so that Theone and his men could get into the castle.

There was a gentle rap at the door, and then it opened. Which one of the women opened it, Anya wasn’t sure, as it was done using magic. Two grey ladies entered the room, escorting a third. The third was wearing a veil, so it was hard to see the face beneath it, though it didn’t take more than a breath for Anya to figure out who it was. Eleazar had said their aunt was coming, and if these women were Eleazar’s daughters, the veiled lady could only be one person; Princess Abeytu.

One of the grey ladies lifted the Princess’s veil and Anya’s jaw fell again. Abeytu was the most captivating, beautiful woman she had ever seen, even with the grey skin. She was like an old time movie star, captured in a black and white photograph. A classic, timeless beauty with features so striking, so indefectible, Anya could not stop staring. Even the vulnerability behind her empty, hopeless stare was entrancing.

Anya remembered how Lorcan had told Abeytu once that she was beautiful, but despite how the idea of him finding the Princess attractive annoyed her, she couldn’t hold it against her. She should have hated her for the curse she’d put on Lorcan, or at least felt some kind of anger towards her, but being there, seeing her for the first time, all she could think about was what
she
had been through these last eighteen years, locked away in the castle, endlessly pursued by the God of the Damned.

‘Orchid. Rowhannah,’ Evarain called to her sisters. ‘Will you dress that damn girl? I’m not being made to eat with the serfs, not when I’ve done such a good job with this one.’

Evarain crossed the room and tended to the Princess, and Orchid and Rowhannah continued arguing with much lower voices. Eventually, they broke out into a war of outfit changes. Steph’s hair was up and down and up again, while her outfit flickered from purple to green to pink to another shade of purple before Evarain finally put her foot down.

‘For the God’s sakes... ’ She waved her hand in a fit of frustration and Steph’s outfit changed one last time, settling on a corseted, red gown with black jewellery. Her lips were painted rich scarlet.

Now was her chance. Keeping one eye on the sisters in the mirror, Anya raised her hand to her mouth, ready to catch the leech.

Too fast. Evarain spotted her moving. She feigned a cough and lowered her hand. The sister raised an eyebrow and went back to adjusting the Princess’s outfit, her dancing fingers doing all the work.

How could she get rid of this thing? She’d come close to gagging on it too many times. She couldn’t bear it much longer.

She watched as Abeytu’s outfit was tweaked. Gloves. No Gloves. Headdress. Veil. High rise collar. Low cut neck.

And then it hit her. The blood switch.

She had Theone’s powers now,
if
she could work out how to use them. Theone had said it was all in the will. Wanting it, feeling it, willing it, believing it; the true King’s pearls of wisdom on magic. Anya feared it wasn’t going to be quite that simple.

She closed her eyes, held her hand open in her lap out of sight of the sisters, and thought about the leech. She wanted it gone so bad she kept saying it over in her mind.
Into my hand. Get into my hand.

A breath, and then, as simple as a finger-snap, the leech was gone from her mouth. She breathed a silent sigh of relief as she looked down. It worked. The leech was exactly where she wanted it to be.
Thank you, little guy,
she thought, but when she looked at it again, she realised something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel the same as it had when she’d taken it out of the jar. There was no slime now, and it just lay there, not moving, not trying to sink its teeth elsewhere.