Shards: Book One of the Anderian Series

Chapter 38: Injured

My aim was true. The bullet pierced the creature in the center of its slimy forehead, but not before it released a final spike that clipped my left arm. Agony ripped through me. I fell to my knees as the monster toppled over, any curiosity I had about the beast disappearing in a storm of pain.

Holding my burning arm, I stood, stumbled, and recovered enough to reach a tree to use as a prop. Tears poured out of my eyes so hot and thick my vision was obscured. When I thought I could walk, I took one step and promptly hurled, the contents of my stomach splatting in the dirt.

A terrible smell, much like the beast's breath, reached my nose, and I squinted at the vomit to find it was steaming and the color of acid. Before I could panic over it, I noted I felt marginally better. The world wasn't somersaulting, and the pain had localized to the point of injury instead of racing through every limb. I might have celebrated if not for the shouts I could now hear coming from the Synod's compound. The gunshot must have alerted them.

"Shit, shit, shit," I huffed, pushing off the tree and walking as swiftly as I dared, watery eyes sweeping the area in front of me and praying that spiky bastard travelled alone because I didn't have it in me to lift my gun again, much less aim straight and pull the trigger.

Weaving with every step, I went as fast as possible between trees, stopping at each one to catch my breath before pushing off to the next one. Most people would think I was crazy for continuing to head toward chaos and danger, especially in this condition, but I refused to turn back now when I was so close. Cian was alive. I knew it, but he might not be that way for long. Besides, I'd trained for years as a police officer to do this very thing. I might not have a lot of love for the department anymore, but I was grateful for the hours upon hours spent overriding the natural instinct to flee.

Somehow, I made it to the top of the hill and the edge of the woods near the house. Along the way, my vision had cleared, and the nausea tampered off, so I only noticed it if I thought about it; however, my skin felt tight and dry, like it had lost the ability to sweat, and my teeth clacked together so hard I feared I might break one.

Maybe it would be okay if I sat here for a few minutes. Just to catch my breath. I slid down the tree; the bark scraping my lower back as my jacket and shirt rode up. Immediately, wet seeped through the material of my jeans, making me shiver harder and regret the decision to sit.

A snort bubbled up my throat. Who was I kidding? I hadn't decided to sit; my knees gave out. There could be a puddle under my bum, and I wouldn't move.

"Sorry, June."

The succubus couldn't hear me, but I needed to say it out loud in case I never had the chance to speak it again. We lived in a world where monsters spit acid spikes, men had wings, and witches could track people through energy signatures. Surely, my whispered apology could be carried on the wind to ease a friend's anger and worry. I believed it.

"S-s-sorry, Cian."

There was no need to hope for the wind to carry this one. I doubted the bond carried specific words or thoughts, but if Cian felt what I did, he would feel the emotion. In answer, the bond pulsed with sorrow. Then, as my heartbeat slowed, it swelled with agony.

My eyes closed. Sounds grew fainter. Finally, I stopped shaking and something akin to peace washed over me. Dying really was getting a lot easier. I guess if you tried to do it as often as I did; you got better at it. A breeze washed over my face, and I heard one last sound—wings beating. Then I succumbed to the darkness.

*****************

I wasn't in a cave when I woke up, which was disappointing considering the chain of events that followed. It was another bedroom. This one was a vast improvement over the bedroom in Jac's safe house. Nothing smelled musty. The walls were a fresh cream that complimented the golden hardwood floors. The thread content of my sheets was beyond anything I had ever hoped to afford, and from what I could tell as I sat up and looked around the small space, I was entirely alone.

Counting on my fingers, I concluded this was at least the fourth time in a week I'd been rendered unconscious. Not my best score to be sure, but as long as I kept waking up, I could handle it. Wading through the haze in my mind, I tried to remember what happened. I jerked up the white sleeve of my simple linen nightdress and searched for the scratch that had almost taken me out.

I half expected it to be gone; instead, there was an angry red gash stretching from the side of my shoulder to the other. It was deepest in the center and surrounded by spidery black and purple lines. They were darkest near the wound, but I spied faint discoloration all the way down my arm and to the tips of my fingers.

Swallowing hard, I lowered the sleeve. Cian had healed me so thoroughly after the car accident, I hadn't fully grasped how close I'd come to actually dying. This minor cut, something that should have been insignificant, had nearly taken me out, and even after magical intervention, it remained. My captors had either left it behind as a threat, or worse, they'd been unable to heal me fully.

It didn't matter. Whatever the reason, I had more time. That was what was important. I shook my head, then froze when I felt the band around my throat. I touched it, fingers trembling as I traced swirls and gems pressed into the cool metal, but before I could even begin to guess at what it was, the door to my room swung open.

"Awake already? Impressive."

I eyed the woman. Tall and slender, she looked as if she'd avoided stepping foot in the sunlight her entire life. Hair the color of a raven's wing hung to her waist, and she'd painted her lush lips the color of blood. Rainforest green eyes assessed me with an interest that equaled my own, and she tapped a finger against her extremely pointed chin.

"Who are you?"

She grinned and flounced over to the bed. The mattress hardly dipped as she sat down, almost as if her bones were hollow. "You look like him. More than I expected, especially since you look like her, too."

"Ah... Cryptic answers. The cornerstone of Anadarien culture."

The woman giggled and scooted closer. Close enough to see the flecks of gold sprinkled throughout her irises and smell the floral notes of her perfume. My nose crinkled as I got a second whiff. Decaying floral notes, like roses left too long in a vase.

"You're funny. Bellamy was always quick-witted. That must be something from my side of the family, then."

I pulled back, my mouth opening comically wide. "Shreyna."

Shreyna pouted. "Won't you call me mother?"

So many emotions rolled through me, each one barely cresting before another replaced it. Shock. Joy. Bitterness. Sorrow. Rage. Wariness. They traded places and mingled together until at last they settled like a stone in my gut.

She didn't appear to notice the turmoil. Waving her hands dismissively, she hopped off the bed and shook out the wrinkles in her flowing lavender skirt. "Never mind that. I wish we had more time to catch up, but unfortunately, that nasty little cut in your arm is forcing us to hurry. I told them it was a terrible idea to breed Grolims here, but they didn't listen. They never do. And yet, here we are about to get what we wanted because I did what they wouldn't do."

Shreyna wasn't talking to me anymore. The gold glowed brighter the more she muttered, and when she raised her head to look at me, her beautiful exterior was cracked, revealing something feral and ancient. It disappeared with a single shake of her head.

"What is this?" I asked, pointing at the collar. The question wasn't the most important one, but it was the one I plucked from the hundreds bouncing in my head.

"A precaution."

"I don't think I'm much of a threat right now. I'm injured." And highly untrained.

"You're my daughter. You're always a threat." Silence stretched between us. Then she clapped again. "Come on. Let's go."

"Go where?" I demanded as she yanked the covers off and threw a pile of clothes at me.

"You'll see."