Chapter 44: The Ties that Blind

“Nothing good grows in Golgido. Even after all these millennia, the soil there is still sick from Daru’s touch. Any meager plants that find purchase in its red-stained soil are inevitably diseased, malformed things. Yes, you heard me, the ground is still rust-colored in Golgido. Daru the Red earned his epithet for multiple reasons. The Fourth Alukah was a psychotic butcher, even by his kin's standards, but he was also a master in manipulating blood, particularly the iron in it. But all that blood and wrath wasn’t enough to save him. The holy ones put Daru down at Golgido and the land will never forgive them for that. See, the fact nothing good grows in Golgido is the secondary problem. What really haunts my nightmares is what happens to anything that dies at Golgido.” Fire-keeper Ramsar of the Golgido Dakhma

Lying on the cold cavern floor, staring at the duel that would decide her fate, Mina was racked by indecision. The duel between catblood and snakewoman continued, both combatants exchanging blows in a lightning dance Mina could barely track. Despite her injuries and ever worsening blood-loss, Alia held her own, circling about Cleanor, staying in her foe’s blindspot. It was incredible how fast Alia moved, her body reacting to strikes Mina didn’t even notice until they finished. But even with one eye, Cleanor was formidable, leveraging her reach and serpentine flexibility to attack from every angle. The duel was at a stalemate, and Mina knew every second she hesitated the worse things would get for her girlfriend. But even as Mina was torn between love and duty, Alia fought on.

Jumping over another sword strike and twisting midair, Alia kicked out, striking the flat of Cleanor’s blade, knocking the flashing scimitar off course and forcing the lamia to retreat from the twin shortswords seeking her flesh. As Alia landed, she rolled to the right, staying in Cleanor’s blindspot while dancing closer. Every time Alia moved, there was an explosive energy to it. Her muscles seemed taut as bowstrings, but worked with incredible precision. Something about the mixture of maniac intensity and unfailing accuracy of Alia’s movements itched at Mina’s brain. The part of the Priestess’s mind not occupied with keeping her spell working suddenly understood what was happening. Alia didn’t just fight like a trained warrior, she fought like a cat. Her reflexes and actions imbued with an almost supernatural agility.

A memory flickered past Mina’s eyes then, of lying in bed with a naked Alia, tracing her dark skin and whipcord muscles. Mina’s fingers had found an odd series of indents on Alia’s upper-back, and upon having them touched, Alia spasmed like, well… a startled cat. After a few frantic apologies, Mina soon learned the origin of the scars. Alia’s aunt had bitten her when she’d turned sixteen, sinking werecat fangs into the muscle just below Alia’s nape, right along her spine. That bite had imbued some of the curse of Therianthropy into Alia, granting her powers she now drew upon. While Alia might keep her family name of Cat-eyes, a more accurate epithet might be Cat-spine.

As understanding grew in Mina, it bore an unexpected fruit: hope. She’d never seen Alia use her beastblood gifts, at least never to this extent. Maybe, just maybe, with the help of Cole’s concoction, Alia might emerge triumphant without Mina needing to intervene. Laying on the ground, her legs broken and ribs cracked, Mina offered a quiet prayer as she redoubled her efforts to keep the spell binding Isabelle intact.

Then, just as the final words of Mina’s prayer left her chapped lips, Alia stumbled. The city-warden’s feet caught on a hidden crag in the rock and her footwork suffered. Alia recovered quickly and started moving backwards, trying to gain some distance. But the stumble and subsequent efforts to stay balanced was all the opportunity Cleanor needed. Uncoiling like a scaled spring, the lamia shot forward, blades ready to slice apart the retreating Alia. As Mina’s heart leapt into her throat, she noticed the small boulder behind Alia, and more importantly the flash of sharp teeth behind a mask of blood. Even stained red and blurred by movement, Mina knew that cocky grin. It was the fierce smile of a triumphant predator and the expression Alia wore whenever a hunt's conclusion was in sight. City-warden Alia Cat-eyes hadn’t stumbled, she’d feinted.

Leaping backwards with explosive force, avoiding the questing tips of Cleanor’s blades, Alia landed on the sloped side of the boulder and pushed off of it. As the snakewoman’s momentum carried her forward, Alia jumped over her and came down on the lamia’s exposed tail. Cleanor twisted, trying to cut Alia from the air, but her own greater mass and strength worked against her. Dodging the swiping scimitars, Alia came down upon the back third of Cleanor’s lower-half. Twin blades punched through scaled flesh. Blood sprayed out as Alia got to her grim work. One shortsword cut, sinking through thick muscle, while the other stabbed, seeking organs and blood vessels.

Screaming in fury, Cleanor finally spun about, her body thrashing with pain. Alia rode the snake’s panicked movements, using them to carve deep furrows into her foe. As Cleanor lashed out, Alia pushed off her foe, sailing through the air, her swords leaving a shower of blood in their wake. After landing roughly, Alia rolled to her feet and laughed. “Jagging hells! You really are like a snake! Just as stupid as those jumping vipers we used to hunt!”

Cleanor’s remaining eye bulged with fury. “Kill you! Kill you! KIIILLLL YOU!”

Walking slowly towards the lamia, Alia smiled. “I don’t know if I got your liver or one of your kidneys just now, but either way, you're still fucked. It would be hard enough to survive the poison I put on that quarrel without some internal organs ruptured.”

Momentarily stunned, Cleanor reached up towards the bolt sticking through her face and in that moment, Alia charged. To Mina’s amazement, the snakewoman tried to flee. A shriek of pain escaped Cleanor, and she collapsed sideways. Blood squirted from the lamia’s flank, where Alia’s blades had torn through muscle. Barely raising her scimitars up in defense, Cleanor caught Alia’s swords, but not the vicious kick aimed at her gut. As the lamia spasmed in pain, Alia slipped past her foe’s guard and struck. With a wet thunk, Cleanor’s head rolled away from her neck.

Casually, Alia kicked the severed head, sending it sailing into the dark. With a final contemptuous spit, Alia turned from her foe and shuffled towards Mina. Any joy the priestess might have found in Alia’s victory upon seeing her girlfriend’s condition. Every movement Alia made was labored, her body trembling with the type of exhaustion only found in the wake of a crisis. Reaching Mina, Alia fell to her knees, using one shortsword like a crutch to stop herself from fully collapsing. Eyes flicking from the blade sticking from the rock awfully close by, Mina took in her girlfriend and felt her stomach drop. It wasn’t the godsawful amount of blood covering Alia, or even how her body shook with stress that shocked Mina, it was the look in Alia’s eyes.

There was a cold intensity to Alia’s gaze, an expression that made Mina’s heart freeze. She’d never seen Alia look at anyone like that. In fact, Mina had only seen that gaze once before. An old man in her home village wore that expression when he protected his grandchildren from a ghoul that was once his own daughter. Alia was preparing to do something both horrible and necessary.

Forcing her lips to form words, Mina asked. “Alia?”

A pained grunt escaped Alia, and she fell forward, practically collapsing on top of Mina. Panic surged in the priestess and she shakily felt at her partner’s pulse. It was incredibly strong and horribly inconsistent. Her heart was ripping itself apart. Frantically rolling Alia onto her back, Mina stared at the ruin of the city-warden’s scalp and the fresh blood being pumped out by her damaged heart. Half a dozen spells welled up in Mina's mind. She could stop the bleeding, stabilize Alia’s pulse, and maybe even start reattaching the flaps of skin that had once been her forehead. But she couldn’t do that while keeping Isabelle bound.

Staring down at her girlfriend, at the wonderful, silly, and oh so amazing woman dying in front of her, Mina whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Natalie repeated herself. “How do you know that name?”

The spectacled vampire stared at her, his refracted eyes wide with shock. Slowly, as if he didn’t trust his vision, the vampire removed his glasses and stared at Natalie. “You… you look so much like her.”

Gritting her fangs, trying to struggle against the cold, Natalie spat. “How do you know my mother’s name?!”

Folding his strange lenses, the vampire slowly spoke. “I am Lord Aloysius Wolfgang. In undeath I am a scion of Voivode Igori Gens Suillia. But in life, I was a member of Clan Tyto. Does that mean anything to you?”

Forcing her frantic mind to calm, Natalie nodded slightly. “You knew my mother?”

Wolfgang nodded slightly. “She.. she was my niece. I take it Iona is dead?”

This was too much for Natalie’s rattled mind. It was one thing for a vampire spawn of Igori to be hunting Cole. That made a terrible sort of sense, even if Natalie couldn’t guess how the bastard ambushed them. Mina’s betrayal… or more likely subversion had sent Natalie reeling, but was still conceivable in a way. Wolfgang’s inability to realize she was the Alukah and the depth of her relationship with Cole was insulting but understandable. But the idea of this cold, cruel creature looming over Natalie being… family? That was too much, that defied all reason.

After taking a long moment to digest this impossibility the best she could, Natalie felt a surge of disgust and rage join her confusion. “My mother is dead. Another victim in your ilk’s schemes.”

Wolfgang shut his eyes for what could have been an unusually long blink. “I promised my sister I’d protect her. I failed that, but I can at least save you. Tell me everything you can and I’ll take you back to the Duchies with me. You’ll be free of the insane homunculus and be one of my vassals.”

A bitter laugh tried to escape Natalie, but her frozen flesh wouldn’t cooperate. The spell Mina cast was powerful, stronger than when it had crippled Isabelle, or perhaps Natalie just couldn’t resist its effects as well. A surge of confused anger welled up in Natalie at the thought of Mina. It seemed like the priestess was under some type of magical control, or at least Natalie prayed that was the case. The idea someone like Mina could be so horribly subverted was disturbing enough, without considering the possibility of true betrayal. Forcing herself not to dwell on that crisis, Natalie focused on the one right in front of her. Yet again she was powerless, isolated and speaking with a monster that thought of her as family. Truly, despite all her efforts, things hadn’t changed.

Channeling some of her old rage, Natalie stared up at Wolfgang. “If you couldn’t protect my mother, then why in the infinite hells should I think you could protect me?”

Natalie was fishing and stalling at the same time. If she could outlast Mina’s spell… or outlast whatever was being done to Mina, then the situation might change. Besides, learning some family history might be useful. In response to her biting words, Wolfgang glanced away, his cool expression cracking the tiniest bit. “Iona fled. She ran away and abandoned all the protections one of her station would be offered.”

Lip curling in disgust, Natalie snarled. “Station? Is that what you call being a human sacrifice or brood mare? I know what Clan Tyto is, and what my mother escaped.”

Wolfgang hesitated a moment. “That wasn’t to be Iona’s fate. There is another possibility members of our clan can aspire to. It's ironic, she ran away from her destiny only for you to claim it instead. Tell me, grandniece, did you inherit even a portion of Iona’s savantism? If you did, then I can ensure a place of power in the Voivode’s court.”

An old argument between her and Isabelle reared up in Natalie’s head. Isabelle had utterly discounted the idea that Iona had fled becoming a vampire when Natalie raised the notion. As her mind quailed from these growing revelations, Natalie found bleak solace in being correct. Her mother escaped becoming a monster, but Natalie hadn’t. She’d, in fact, become a greater and more terrible monster than her mother could have ever imagined. Then, as a final twist of irony, now when Natalie needed the power her curse provided she couldn’t use it to escape her grand uncle.

Natalie decided appearing like a useful opportunity to Wolfgang was the right idea. Somehow, she sensed Wolfgang offering her a place of protected servitude was about as much as his familial loyalty extended. “My name is Natalie, and yes, I inherited my mother’s abilities.”

Frowning, Wolfgang looked her over. “Natalie… so you are the girl from Glockmire? Of all the places for Iona to hide… Tell me, did you host the Alukah for a time?”

It was almost funny how Wolfgang refused to see what was right before his eyes. Although, considering Natalie was currently a frozen block of uselessness, it was understandable Wolfgang couldn’t piece all the parts together. Flat on her back, skin blue from the cold and body covered in ash, Natalie didn’t look like a nation-eating monster. Feeling her frozen blood slowly but steadily push against the spell chaining her, Natalie hoped she’d be able to ‘correct’ Wolfgang’s assessment of her very quickly.

“I did, I’m the grandscion of Johan Glockmire, I was the only one who could take the power.” Natalie answered. She was probably giving away too much, but keeping Wolfgang distracted seemed a good idea. Better for him to be engrossed in the mystery she represented than hunting after her friends. Cole was fighting for his life against three powerful monsters. Alia was… was missing but also badly wounded, and Mina couldn’t be trusted. As for Kit and Yara, Natalie had no idea, which she hoped was a good sign.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Eyes narrowing, her ‘grand-uncle,’ frowned. “I can imagine the priests of the Tenth might have methods of removing and sealing away the Alukah. But I find it strange you still live. I’d assume they would simply dispose of you once the Alukah was dealt with. So… I take it the rumors are true, and the homunculus is infatuated with you? I can see no other reason for them to spare you, Natalie.”

Natalie just shrugged, unwilling to risk Wolfgang detecting an outright lie. Still, Natalie realized what she said was only part of the equation inside her grand-uncle's mind. Stress and tension practically exuded from Wolfgang. He had already formed his conclusions and was not in a state of mind to easily change them. Part of Natalie felt seriously concerned that her captor was this worried. It seemed unlikely whatever had him this tense would be beneficial for her. But grim practicality meant it was better to exploit Wolfgang’s frayed state than worry about what it implied.

Accepting her non-answer as confirmation, Wolfgang continued to work on the problem. “So why did the Priestess call you Isabelle? Is the homunculus just that insane?”

Glancing in the direction Mina had disappeared, dragged by the lamia, Natalie said. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? If you could get her to betray us, then offering an explanation wouldn’t be hard.”

Wolfgang dismissed this with a wave. “She might be useful in the future and too much of the geas might…”

He stopped himself and looked down at Natalie. “You really look and sound like Iona.”

Shaking his head, Wolfgang’s voice became a little colder. “Answer my question, I don’t want to hurt you if I can avoid it.”

Licking her cold-cracked lips and hating the taste of ash she found there, Natalie asked. “You are here for Cole and the stone right? How did you find us?”

Instead of answering, Wolfgang drew a knife from his clothes, a long shining stiletto. “Do you care about the homunculus? If he’s kept you as some kind of paramour and replacement, then it would make sense for a young woman like yourself to become emotionally dependent upon him, especially in the wake of all that transpired in Glockmire. I wouldn’t fault you for it. You are young and clearly fragile.”

Eyeing the knife, sensing something profoundly wrong about the blade, Natalie decided it was time to lie. “He calls me Isabelle, so do the others…”

Wolfgang shook his head slightly, a tiny motion of disgust. “The creature is clearly insane, which might make all of this more difficult.”

A scream suddenly echoed through the cavern, and Wolfgang whirled about. He clearly recognized the sound’s source, but Natalie didn’t. If she had to guess someone just hurt the lamia badly, the only question was who and how? Pushing at the spell binding her, Natalie gritted her teeth, the magic was still strong. If Mina hadn’t dropped the spell to strike at her captor, then did Kit or Yara do something?

In a low, cold monotone, Wolfgang said. “The priestess… I’ll need to deal with her, it seems. I’d thought Cleanor was more than capable of-”

Natalie cut him off. “You can’t kill her or me. The Sage’s Stone needs both of us to be used. The Lych made damn sure of that.”

Again, Natalie was probably sharing too much, but if it kept Mina alive, then it would be worth it. Also, she wasn’t the only one letting secrets slip. Wolfgang seemed to be almost thinking out loud, his words carrying far too much information than they needed to. Natalie guessed she had her mother and grandmother to thank for that. Her face and voice seemed to have found a crack in the plague-sowing monster’s composure.

As Wolfgang’s eyes settled on Natalie, she tried to keep him distracted and off balance. “What happened to my grandmother, your sister?”

The tiniest twitch of sadness flicked across Wolfgang’s face. “She… she bore three children and then her blood was used in an important ritual.”

Anger, righteous and cruel, burned deep in Natalie. Her mother never talked about her own family, and Natalie had assumed she was an orphan until Castle Glockmire. Thinking of her mother’s face, of her smile and laugh, Natalie wondered what her grandmother had been like. Who she’d been and what it must have been like to live such a cruel life.

Staring into Wolfgang’s eyes, Natalie slowly said. “The Voivode and his court… they devoured your sister and you still serve them?”

The first true emotion, not the quickly stifled flickers she’d caught, showed on Wolfgang’s face. Long repressed rage, grief and shame showed in his expression. Now, with their kinship revealed, Natalie knew why Wolfgang looked vaguely familiar. There were hints of her own face in his features, evidence of how well the Voivode bred his favored livestock.

Snarling at Natalie, Wolfgang spat. “Do you think I had a choice in the matter? Do you think I want to be shackled to them? No! The ability to choose, to be free is a privilege, and one the powerful hoard for themselves! So do not dare to-”

Wolfgang shook his head, dispelling his momentary loss of control. “Enough of this. You will return to the Duchies with me. That will settle my debt to Iona and free you from the homunculus.”

As Wolfgang turned from her, heading towards the scream’s source Natalie sucked in an involuntary breath, and started to push herself off the ground. “My grandmother, what was her name?”

That struck a nerve. A furious Wolfgang whirled on Natalie. “Be quiet! Do not make me stake your heart!”

Slowly, Natalie started to stand, her feet shaky, legs numb. Letting out an annoyed hiss, Wolfgang marched up towards Natalie and reached out, ready to break something in her. With fingers like cold iron, Natalie gripped onto Wolfgang’s outstretched wrist and pulled him forward. Her grand-uncle’s eyes widened at the strength in Natalie’s flesh as her power returned.

Feeling the cold lethargy fade away like ice melting in the summer sun, Natalie smiled, an expression cruel and predatory like a starving wolf. “I asked you a question, Uncle Wolfgang. What was my grandmother’s name?”

Staring at his wrist, feeling the bones creak under Natalie’s strength, Wolfgang asked. “How are you doing this? You aren’t even a year embraced? Even without the priestess’s spell- AAAGGGHHH!”

Natalie squeezed harder, crushing undead flesh and bone in a vice-like grip. Wolfgang tried to pull away, to no avail. He was a young Strix, a creature of spells and secrets, not strength and speed; Natalie was more than Wolfgang’s match in physical power. Seeing the pain and shock on her great-uncle’s face brought forth a surge of emotions in Natalie. Part of her felt pity and even some guilt. Wolfgang was probably the last bit of blood she had in the world, and he’d cared for her mother in his broken way. But whatever sadness she felt at his suffering was drowned out by the waves of wrath building in Natalie. Anyone who’d stand aside and let their own sister be devoured and then serve her killers wasn’t family. Wolfgang might share her features and blood, but he’d hurt those she cared about. Natalie would make sure his bones were buried properly. That was all she owed him.

Just as Natalie’s power returned, so did the cruelty of her nature. After her terrible period of helplessness and confusion, Natalie was intoxicated by the dark strength flowing through her. Dimly, Natalie knew her curse was reacting to the temptation Wolfgang represented. The Alukah’s hunger whispered to Natalie, a new thirst joining her ever present bloodlust. It would be so easy to sink her fangs into Wolfgang, to take a key step in avenging her family, and claim his power.

Memories of a willow tree flashed in Natalie’s eyes, and she shut her mouth with a click. She’d not even realized her jaw was open, or how close she’d pulled herself to the stunned Wolfgang. Pushing down the cannibalistic desires, Natalie grounded herself with old-fashioned rage. “What was your sister’s name? Do you even still remember? My mother, did you ever look for her? Try to help her?”

Wolfgang’s wrist was visibly contorting under Natalie’s grip. “What are you?”

Reaching out, Natalie wrapped fingers around Wolfgang’s neck and hoisted him into the air. “I see Isabelle’s estimate was correct. You are just a conveying little plagiarist. Smart enough to steal another’s work but not figure out an obvious truth. All the pieces are in front of you, Uncle, and yet you can’t complete the jagging puzzle.”

Wolfgang’s free hand shot to one of his knives, Natalie let go of his ruined hand and stopped him from plunging the blade into her flesh. It wasn’t the shining stiletto of before, but a dwarven chisel-dagger. Suddenly, an invisible giant’s fist slammed into Natalie, sending her hurtling backwards. Skidding along the ground, Natalie reclaimed her balance and came to a halt. Bits of skin and muscle were clutched in either of her hands, torn free from Wolfgang. Staring up at him, she saw her grand-uncle on one knee, black blood covering much of his throat. Quickly dropping the rapidly disintegrating tissue she’d pulled off him, Natalie frowned. Isabelle’s warning rang in her ears. She needed to beat Wolfgang without getting her hands dirty, literally.

Cautiously, Wolfgang got to his feet, trying to hold his knife and put on his spectacles with his working hand. Natalie plucked her shortsword off the ground and called up a quartet of wolves to flank her. She guessed the chisel-dagger Wolfgang held was connected to the phantom force he’d used against her. Removing that knife, and preferably the hand holding it, was Natalie’s next step.

Finally getting his glasses in place, Wolfgang hurriedly fiddled with their rune-touched sides. Natalie could see his eyes widen in utter horror at whatever he saw in the compound lenses. Vampires seemed to have a hard time identifying what she was straight away, her youth and original bloodline camouflaging the Alukah’s potency. The glasses were clearly a magical trinket of some kind and Wolfgang finally used them to look past his assumptions.

In a croaking voice, Wolfgang gurgled. “Are they mad?! Why would the Tenth let you walk free? Don’t they know what you can do?”

Slowly approaching Wolfgang, her blade shining in the stark light of Kit’s false-sun, Natalie snarled. “Oh, they know, and you are about to find out, Uncle.”

Mina shut her eyes in abject despair. She’d failed her duty and only prolonged the inevitable. But staring down at the unconscious Alia in her arms, Mina knew she couldn’t have made any other choice. The worst of Alia’s wounds were shut, and her heart was beating normally. It would take a more talented healer than Mina to fix her scalp, but at least it wasn’t dangling by a few pieces of skin anymore. Unable to move and having spent all of her remaining power healing Alia, Mina teetered on the edge of collapse. Any moment now Isabelle would finish with whatever was distracting her and come take Mina’s head. In saving Alia, all the priestess had done was buy a few moments for her girlfriend and potentially damn the entire continent to an era of bloodshed. Yet looking down at Alia’s haggard and blood-stained face, Mina knew she couldn’t have made any other choice.

Glancing toward the raging battle, Mina’s shoulders slump. Even if Cole emerged victorious against three different monsters, he’d fall before Isabelle. Mina still didn’t know the entire story of that twisted romance but feared for what it might portend. Something about her fellow servant of Death had always disturbed Mina. There were too many mysteries surrounding Cole, and most of them seemed to trace to the vampire’s darkest secrets. Normally Mina would never doubt her God’s judgment in picking Cole, but after her own failure… well, Mina’s faith in Master Time’s ability to select worthy servants was shaken. While Mina doubted Cole would ever consent to Natalie being truly supplanted by his older love, an ancient vampire with the Alukah’s strength could twist the paladin’s mind. Perhaps the reborn Isabelle would arrive at any moment, with Cole at her side, having completely forgotten about Natalie and even the rest of his friends.

The sensation of cold steel against her neck pulled Mina from her bleak prognostications. A dagger’s edge sat on Mina’s throat, the hand holding it looping up and behind her. Stunned at how she’d been ambushed, Mina mentally kicked herself for wallowing in angst. Even if she and everyone else were doomed, that didn’t mean it was her right to meekly accept that fate.

A voice from behind her spoke, its tone familiar and tense with a rebuke. “No! Don’t kill her!”

Another slightly less familiar voice growled. “Why not?!”

Tentatively, Mina asked. “Kit? Yara?”

Neither responded directly, Kit just quickly said. “We might need a healer if any of us survive this.”

The knife at Mina’s throat pulled back slightly, and Yara muttered. “Fine. Do you think this will work?”

Mina suddenly found fingers calloused from violin practice, maneuvering a thin piece of metal into her hand. “Hold on to this if you don’t want to die.”

Confused and exhausted, Mina complied and watched as Yara finally came into view, or at least sort of did. Mina’s eyes kept slipping off the thrall, her mind groping at the image in front of her, and failing to find purchase. It was a subtlety enchantment and a potent one, considering Mina knew of Yara’s presence but still couldn’t focus on her. Instead of trying to watch Yara, Mina looked at Alia and saw Kit pressing something into her limp fingers. It was a hairpin, the cheap quartz-tipped tip favored for their durability and simplicity.

Kit made a strange humming noise then, his lips whistling and buzzing at the same time. Instantly, a wave of disorientation and vertigo smashed into Mina. Her body felt strange and nausea rocked her stomach. Kit wrapped his arm around her torso and pulled. Mina expected terrible pain, being dragged over uneven ground with broken bones would not be fun. To her shock, she instead floated up into the air, her vertigo increasing by the second. Right next to Mina, Alia also floated up, pulled along by Yara’s slippery presence.

It was a surreal experience, being moved through the air as if it was water. Kit had clearly reduced Mina and Alia’s gravity, making them practically buoyant. Soon they approached the central tower, heading for one of its open doors. Managing to speak without being sick, Mina asked. “How did you escape them?”

Not looking at her, Kit kept moving. “Better if you don’t know.”

A sudden terrible thought occurred to Mina. Yara was Natalie’s thrall and easily subverted by a powerful vampire. Her ‘conversion’ from Dietrich’s service proved that much. While Kit’s mentor was an ancient undead horror with some kind of connection to Isabelle. This might not be a rescue, but a mere movement of prisoners.

Tensing, Mina put some iron into her voice, an impressive achievement considering her body was limp and broken. “Kit, how did you slip past the leeches when they attacked the rest of us?”

Grunting in annoyance, Kit pulled Mina harder, moving them both towards the doorway. Bracing herself, Mina brought her hand holding the hairpin up to Kit’s side. “Tell me, or I put this in your liver.”

From nearby, Yara hissed. “I told you we should have just killed her!”

Kit shot a glare at where Yara might be standing and snapped. “Please don’t agitate our compromised friend while she’s holding my organs hostage.”

Clicking his tongue, Kit quickly said. “I strengthened Yara’s innate subtlety magic when everything went to the hells. Considering neither of us are much use in a straight fight, it seemed a good idea to hide and use our gifts in other ways. Now please let me get us into cover! We can talk more when our illusion of safety is more certain.”

Not moving the needle pressed against Kit’s side, Mina asked. “What did you mean when you said I was compromised?”

Kit winced, an expression she doubted had much to do with his imperiled liver. “How about this? You tell me what you think happened during the ambush and I keep moving us towards somewhere less exposed. Then once there, you can continue to threaten me while we’re better concealed.”

A flash of white and green fire from nearby made Mina hesitate. Cleanor the Lamia might be dealt with, but she was far from the only monster attacking them. “Fine.”