Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) (60 page)

Antonius arched an eyebrow in a sort of,
see, I told you so
. “I gave no such order.”

“Well, someone did,” Octavian replied, ignoring his father’s hand on his arm. “Are you not in control of your children?”

The first real flash of anger exploded across Antonius’ face a split second before the hall burst into chaos as his children snarled and hissed, but it was Duncan who lunged for Octavian’s throat, fangs bared like a rabid animal. Once again, it was Magnus who leapt in, slamming his body into the creature’s and stopping him from killing Octavian.

“Duncan, down!”

Instantly, the creature went slack and stepped away from Magnus.

Antonius’ features never settled, but continued to dance with the harsh glow of rage as he observed Octavian. “No one has control of my children but I and I did not give the orders. If we are finished, my children are hungry and the nearest town is quite a distance.”

“And you are of course following the laws when hunting, Mortlock?” Abraham said. “No turning of humans and no carnage.”

Antonius inclined his head. “Of course. We are very discreet and never kill or turn.”

Abraham nodded. “Very well. I believe this matter to be dealt with. There is only one final matter left to complete. Duncan, if you please.”

Duncan turned and knelt at his Master’s feet, head bowed. “It has been an honor, Master, to have followed you through these years. Forgive me my inaccuracies.”

Antonius rested a hand on Duncan’s head. “You have served me well, Nikolas.”

It took Octavian a moment to realize Nikolas must have been Duncan’s original name. Unlike his family who kept their given names through the passing centuries, but changed their surname every decade or so, most changed both to meld better with the growing culture. Frankly, he didn’t care what the guy’s name was. He just wanted to see him die.

Duncan began to rise and turn to Abraham.

“Remain there,” the Angel ordered him.

Octavian watched as Duncan did as he was told and stayed on his knees as the Angel moved to stand over him. Abraham raised a hand much the same way as Antonius had and placed it on the crown of Duncan’s head. He murmured a series of words in a language Octavian had only heard Angels speak. He expected Duncan to burst into flames or ashes. He wasn’t expecting him to just crumple to the ground and shrivel up like a prune sucked of all its juices. As climaxes went, it really sucked, but the bastard was gone and could never hurt another again and that’s all he wanted.

His mother leapt to her feet the moment they strode into Final Judgment. Her blue eyes jumped from face to face, flickered briefly on the Angel that had followed them before going back, touching each one of them with her eyes, assuring herself they’d all returned before exhaling and visibly relaxing.

“You’re home,” she said, hurrying over to lose herself in his father’s arms. “I’ve been worried.”

His father smiled warmly down at her, his hands going up to touch her face. “You worry too much.”

His mother laughed. “What else can I do when my boys are always off looking for trouble?” She kissed his cheek lightly before pulling away to draw first Magnus then Octavian into her arms. “How was it? Were you successful?”

Octavian withdrew the Vial he’d taken from Magnus on the plane from his pocket and held it up for her to see.

His mother’s face lit up. “That is wonderful!”

“I expect that the human will be properly transformed by the end of weeks’ time?” Abraham interrupted.

All eyes went to him.

Octavian wanted to snort and tell him she’ll be transformed by the end of the hour, but his father, ever the diplomat intervened.

“Yes, we will handle the situation. Thank you for assisting us on this matter.”

Abraham inclined his head. “We do what we can. Please see that everything in regards to this matter is properly managed.”

It was his father’s turn to incline his head. “I will see to it personally.”

With another nod, Abraham stepped back through the doors and disappeared from sight.

His father turned to his mother. “Jackamo?”

Octavian didn’t wait to hear the answer. He was moving with long purposeful strides towards the kitchen, all the while shedding the coat and sweaters he wore. He left them where they fell, a path of his progress to where he’d been dying to be since he’d left. He was only vaguely aware of the second set of footsteps behind him. He knew his family well enough to know it was Magnus’ domineering strides that followed him. Neither brother spoke as they shoved aside the boxes and things concealing the hatch. Octavian all but leapt into the dark hole without bothering with the stairs. He certainly didn’t bother with the lights as he marched the distance into the little room.

She was awake. Her red eyes shot over to him and she hissed. The bedsprings rattled as she writhed the way a worm would on a hook.

“It’s all right, darling.” He murmured, yanking the cork off the bottle neck. He moved to the nightstand and yanked open the drawer. He yanked out a foul wrapped syringe and in four quick movements, had it unwrapped, uncorked and filled with blood from the vial. “Get her legs,” he told his brother, without looking away from his mate. They had one chance at this and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from getting that blood in her.

Magnus did as he was told. He sat at the foot of the bed and pinned her legs down from the knees. Octavian, once assured she was properly restrained, perched down on the corner of the mattress by her hip and leaned down.

“It’s all right,” he told her softly. “This will make it stop.”

She hissed at him, baring sharp fangs.

Octavian planted the forearm of his free arm across her chest, holding her down as he plunged the needle into the side of her neck. Her shriek was deafening. Smoke began to rise from the puncture wound. It coiled off her skin as though he’d injected her with battery acid. Her screams echoed through the room, the sound shredding through him until it was nearly unbearable to stand. Her body rattled uncontrollably as she stared at him, accusing.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow.

He released her. Magnus did the same with her feet and they watched, powerless to do anything but wait. She hit a fever so hot, had she been human, her brain would have been soup and her bones mush. It reached such a frightening height that he began to wonder if he’d done something wrong. Her screams became soul chilling. Her skin sizzled and steamed. The bedframe clattered as she convulsed from head to toe. For a gut churning moment, Octavian was certain she would die. That her entire body would just explode. When her animalistic snarls became sobs, he nearly broke. He begged whatever holy and unholy being was listening to please,
please
not let her die, to somehow transfer her pain to him so she would no longer suffer. But the torture went on for hours. His mother came down at dawn to check on him. She said nothing, but touched his shoulder. Then she left as well. But he stayed. He stayed with every sunrise and every sunset. He sat and washed her brow and told her over and over again that he was there, that he was sorry. In the windowless room, estimation of time was impossible, but he knew days had passed. Proof of it grew on his face in a thick, dark beard and in the rancid state of his clothes, none of which mattered. He would leave for nothing.

“Please eat something,” his mother begged, nudging him with the tray of stew and bread she held.

“Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” he asked instead, watching Riley’s face for even the slightest change.

Riley continued to tremble despite the mountain of blankets piled on top of her. Sweat and tears shone on her cheeks and glistened on her brow. Her hair lay in tangled and matted knots across the pillows. Her breath rattled painfully in her chest, but was no longer a low growl.

“She will. It takes time. But for now.” She set the tray down on the nightstand. “Please eat something. Starving yourself won’t bring her back faster, and for the love of Pete, take a shower. You’ll scare the girl to death with that forest you’ve got growing on your face, never mind your smell.”

He knew she was trying to make him laugh, but he didn’t have it in him. “Thanks, Mom.”

With a sigh, she placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned in and pressed a kiss to his crown. “I love you, baby.”

He touched the hand she had on his shoulder and nodded. “Love you, too.”

With a squeeze, she left him.

“Come on, Riley,” he murmured softly. God he prayed he hadn’t made her worse. “Wake up.” He touched her face, relieved and worried to find no fever on her chilled skin. Her chest was no longer rising and falling and she lay so still. Panic stole through him. He shot out of his seat. “Riley!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, uncaring of being gentle.

Beneath his trembling, sweaty hands, she moved. Her lips parted in a sound between a sigh and a moan. The sharp little ends of her teeth flashed in the dull light. Her lashes fluttered and rose slowly off her pale cheeks to reveal the same crimson pools where they had once been green. She blinked once, twice, focused on him with confusion and recognition.

“Octavian?” Her voice was the same, soft and melodious like bells.

“Riley.” He never felt the stone floor cushion his kneecaps when he fell to the floor at her side. His hands closed in the sheets draped over her as he dropped his face into her still chest. “You’re back. God, I’ve missed you, baby.”

“Did I go somewhere?” she paused a moment. “I’m tied to a bed.” She jerked on her restraints. “Why am I tied to a bed?”

Raising his head, he peered down into her face, into her beautiful, breathtaking, stunning face that he had missed like his next breath. “You’re safe,” he promised, fighting not to roar in joy or break into tears. “Everything is fine. How much do you remember?”

She stopped struggling. “I… I don’t…” She screwed up her face in concentration. “I remember waiting for you to come to bed.”

“What else?” he pressed, not wanting to, but knowing it was necessary.

She dampened her lips, and winced. “Ow! What…?” Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

“What?” he asked, quickly getting to his feet. “What is it?”

“I remember!” Gingerly she touched the points once more with her tongue. “I remember being attacked and… did I die?”

“A little,” he confessed. “Let’s get you out of this bed and I’ll explain everything.”

He didn’t expect an argument and she never gave one as he hurriedly unfastened her bindings and pulled back the sheets. She grimaced as she lowered her arms for the first time in weeks. She rubbed her raw wrists.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, wanting so badly to kiss the red welts left behind. “But it was for your own safety.”

The uncertainty in her eyes as she sat up tugged on his heart strings. “I don’t feel like me. I feel… strange. Like I was transplanted into someone else’s body.” she hesitated. “This is my body, isn’t it?” She glanced down at herself.

He wanted to laugh at the question, but the serious look on her face stopped him. “It’s you.” He reached for the robe his mother had left draped over the footboard and held it up for her. “Come on. You’ll feel better once you get out of this blasted room.”

She didn’t seem able or willing to argue that as she slipped her arms through the sleeves and shrugged the cotton material on. He ached to touch her, to help unhitch her hair from the collar, but he knew if he touched her, even once, he’d never be able to stop and he wasn’t sure she would welcome it until after she’d heard everything. That scared him like nothing else, her rejection. But he would somehow learn to live with it. It was, after all, his fault she was in this mess. It was his fault that she’d been hurt time and again. It was his fault her father was killed and she was turned into a bloodsucking monster. He wouldn’t blame her if she hated him.

Carefully, he led her up the steps to the storage room. She paused at the top to glance around at all the boxes, a suspicious frown on her face.

“I’ve been in this room a million times. I never noticed this.”

“It’s always kept hidden,” he said, coming up behind her and closing the hatch and concealing it once more with boxes.