The Ravenous Dark, page 23
She's still fatigued from overusing her magic on the full moon. I shouldn't have let her fight.
Dread seized Bailey. The last of the crowd was finally thinning out, and the possessed vampyré was losing interest in the violinist. Now, the only things standing between Stella and the vampyré were Bailey and, more crucially, River.
"Bailey! Watch out!"
Stella's warning hit Bailey like a lash. She whipped around, unprepared for the sight that greeted her.
The shadowmancer.
It was a mere row away and standing directly behind her. Breathe, Bailey. Breathe. Shock kept her limbs in a deadlock as she stared at the shadows pooling off its body. It made no move toward her, but that did little to calm her.
The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention as the strangest sense of recognition thrummed throughout her body.
Third time's the charm she thought, shifting her legs to a wider stance.
Her body ran hot and cold as they stood in a standoff. Bailey scowled, confused at its lack of movement. Before her stood the reason for countless, pointless deaths.
So why wasn't it attacking her?
Bailey tensed as she eyed the shadowmancer. It was cloaked completely in shadows, its vaporous hood concealing even its face—if it had one at all. Her hand twitched at her side. I can find out right now. The idea struck home, and before Bailey knew what she was doing, she lunged. Her hand shot out to snatch back the mystical creature's hood, but she was too slow.
Not halfway into her assault, she jerked back in shock. Bailey yelped as she slapped her hands over her ears to block out the explosive scream ripping through the air. She wasn't the only one affected.
The shadowmancer lurched forward, then burst apart into plumes of smoke, like a candle blown out. Mouth agape, Bailey watched as the shadowmancer's dissolved form fled.
Unfortunately, there was no time for the she-wolf to dwell on its frustrating escape as the sonic attack smashed into Bailey. She toppled over the row of seats behind her, each breath a wheeze from her lungs as her ears rang.
Bailey righted herself. The affair was a groan-filled effort. Peeking above the seats, she spied Stella several rows back, arms outstretched with pure shock painted across her face.
Did Stella do—
"A little help over here, Hart!"
Bailey eyed Stella a second longer before rushing to River's aide.
She tripped over her feet in her first bound, head still reeling from the sound attack she suffered.
"Get it together," Bailey scolded herself and used the seat backs' to help guide her down the row. Whatever scream Stella unleashed had seriously thrown her equilibrium for a loop. It was adrenaline alone that drove her forward with any purpose.
Bailey locked eyes on River. She held off one of the possessed vampyrés with her magic—but barely. Bailey glanced toward the stage. Near the orchestra pit, Deval struggled to throw the second vampyré off his back while Jakob and the Delacroix engaged with the third.
"Bailey!"
The crack in River's voice spurned the she-wolf on faster. Bailey hiked up her skirts with both hands and ran.
River was fading. The closer she got, the more the evidence showed itself. Sweat glistened on her brow. River's arms shook terribly. She held off the vampyré some six feet away, but not for much longer. It clawed and struck out at the unseen shield between him and River. Horrid screams tore from its mouth, and other strangled noises that twisted Bailey's heart.
A weak cry was all the warning River gave before her shaking arms collapsed to her side, and the vampyré shot forward. Bailey did the same, launching herself at the vampyré as it aimed for River. Their combined momentum slammed them into the next row of seats.
Instinct made Bailey lurch her arm up to protect her neck from the vampyrés fangs once they hit the ground. The move saved her life.
She gritted her teeth against the initial pain of its incisors tearing into the delicate flesh of her forearm and waited for pleasure to follow. By all accounts, it should have. Bailey had never been bitten before but heard countless accounts of the inescapable pleasure a vampyrés bite wrought. That wasn't what she felt.
Pain. Burning, inescapable pain.
Her teeth snapped shut with jarring force as the vampyré consumed her blood in greedy gulps. The burning intensified. Slow at first, and then in a tidal wave of scorching heat that blistered her veins. Bailey kicked and struck out at the vampyré, but nothing would dislodge it. It was rabid in its bloodlust. Bailey began to feel lightheaded….
"Doras incante!"
Magic tainted the air, and then the vampyré was flung from Bailey, taking with it an alarming amount of flesh from her arm. Bailey almost heaved. Acid and bile stung her throat as she swallowed it down and clamored backward.
"Mayrum!"
Bailey looked at the vampyré. He was pinned to the ground, each limb straining against the bonds of magic holding him there.
"Hold him down," River instructed curtly. Twin trails of blood coasted from her nose, over her mouth, and down her chin, but no longer did her arms shake.
"You can't be serious, River." Bailey remained where she was, panting as her eyes glanced from River to the possessed vampyré, and over to the men who seemed to have gained the upper hand. Only one possessed remained.
"I can save him."
Bailey's focus snapped back to River. "What?"
"Uncle Jakob! Deval! I need you." River licked her lips and grimaced. "Do it, Bailey. Grab his legs, and when Jakob and Deval—hurry up!" River shouted at the men when the vampyré almost broke through her spell. They arrived in a flash of speed, confusion dressing their features as well as bruises and blood. "Hold down his arms, and I'll extract the dark magic possessing him."
Bailey bit her tongue but did as River commanded. She knew that expression and voice all too well. River would try to save the vampyré whether they helped or not. It was better to help.
Her skirts ballooned around her as she sank to her knees. Ripping off a long swath of fabric, she wrapped it tightly around her injury to help stem the bleeding. Then she took hold of his ankles and used her weight to anchor them. When Jakob and Deval didn't immediately accede, Bailey growled at them.
"Just do it," she snarled, the pain in her forearm razing her nerves.
They got to their knees reluctantly, each ensnaring a wrist.
Jakob narrowed his eyes at River. "I wasn't aware your magical range involved… exorcisms."
Even with the magic exacting a clear toll on River, a blush stained her cheeks. "I may have picked up a thing or two from other covens while conducting my, er, research." River cleared her throat. "Deval, I need you to keep his abdomen pinned instead. Uncle Jakob, take both his arms."
The men rearranged themselves, with Deval planting one foot on the vampyrés lower ribs and the other on the ground beside him. He nodded to River.
"I'm going to end my current spell on the count of three and then begin the other right away. Prepare yourselves. On my count—"
"What if you can't save him?"
River wouldn't meet Bailey's eye. "Then we put him out of his misery."
A long moment of silence passed, tension mounting as River's hands began to lower and the vampyrés struggles became more pronounced. "One, two, three!"
The vampyré jerked upward. Bailey jostled, hissing as her right arm throbbed in agony. Deval grunted and pressed down more firmly while Jakob gave no indication of being disturbed.
"To the power that reigns
in the darkest of night;
I call to you to hear my plight.
Ashe manos, vi lastain,
Corus vectum ira bly!"
Magic ignited in the air, coating it in a thick blanket of cosmic energy that smothered Bailey's senses. She squirmed against it and labored to keep her hold on the vampyré, who flailed further.
Its black veins contorted under its skin, writhing in agony. Bailey couldn't look away. Tears spilled down the vampyré’s face as he tried to break the three's hold but to no avail.
"Stop!" he begged, head thrashing from side to side. River's fingers closed one after another as she stared down the vampyré. An electric current built around their small group, whipping into a frenzy as her last finger curled to create two white-knuckled fists.
"Corus vectum ira bly!"
River snapped her hands down to her sides. The current of energy vanished….
And the vampyré went deathly still.
Bailey's heart threw itself into her ribs as she waited for something—anything—to happen. A faint whine sounded before a tremor rippled through the vampyrés body.
The blackened veins scoring its skin moved even more erratically beneath his skin, but then, miraculously, began to pull away. Bailey gasped, riveted by the sight of them pulling up and away from his body. Evaporating into the air like smoking tendrils.
She swallowed. Exactly like the shadowmancer.
It took a matter of seconds for the vampyré to go limp under them, all traces of the black veins dissolving. Slowly, Bailey rose to her feet. and as Deval removed his foot from the vampyrés chest, he began to cry.
"Thank you," he sobbed quietly. "Thank you. Thank you."
River nodded dumbly and latched onto the back of a seat with both hands. Her pallor was rapidly declining.
Bailey turned to Jakob, who cautiously released one of the man's wrists but kept the other in his possession. Her lips parted to tell him that she would take River back when the sight of something ghastly familiar caught her eye.
A black, sludge-like spot stained the vampyrés hand. The one held still in Jakob's grip.
Bailey's stomach flipped.
It smoked lightly before winking out of existence altogether.
"Go," Jakob commanded, breaking Bailey's concentration.
She caught his eye but couldn't tell if his somber expression meant that he had seen the spot or not.
"Take her home," he said, nodding at River. "I believe the banshee is still here; bring her as well. I'll stay with Cirian and make sure he's properly attended to." He glanced furtively over his shoulder at the approaching Delacroix and lowered his voice. "Speak to no one on your way. Go."
Bailey nodded and turned to River, but Deval was already at her side, thanks to his hybrid speed. He scooped her up in his arms.
River blinked owlishly and put up a minor struggle. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You're seconds away from passing out," he said with a snort.
River glared weakly, but then her eyes fluttered shut, and her head fell limp against his chest. Deval passed a tired smile to Bailey and then glanced at River. The lower half of her face was coated in her blood. His eyes flashed silver, and the muscles in his throat tightened. Bailey growled a warning, but the impression of his hunger was already gone, leaving only brassy copper as he stared back at Bailey solemnly.
"I'm good. Don't worry," he said, already walking toward the exit. Bailey said nothing but hurried to retrieve Stella so the four could make the journey back together.
"Thanks for letting me stay," Stella murmured around her saucer of steaming tea. It was spiked with a special tonic to help her sleep.
Bailey summoned a half-smile, too tired to do anything else. River was seated on the couch, sandwiched between Irina and Jax. Though fatigued from her overuse of magic, she spoke animatedly with Jax. They were discussing the magic she used to save Cirian, and their heads were drawn close together.
The word fascinating had been used ten times too many as they dissected the merits of why the spell had worked.
She supposed she should be more interested in their conversation, but all she felt was a staggering amount of exhaustion. Bailey idly turned her gaze to Deval, who was disinfecting her arm with something that smelled like pine sap.
"Was that how it went down last time? People said at the wedding attack that Laxmi was totally insane. No one could get through to her. But the possessed we were fighting—Drey—he was lucid. " Deval said.
Bailey sat up a little straighter and blinked. "Really?" Like Luka.
"Yeah." Deval started to wrap a clean bandage around her forearm. "He was trash-talking us—in French, no less. Kept saying things like he was touched by God and we were peasants." Deval rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Whatever that black magic was, it pretty much killed him for us in the end. How did your guy fight?"
Bailey snorted. "Like he was hungry." Her features tipped into a frown. "His bite hurt. I thought it was supposed to be… kinky, or whatever."
Deval managed to smother the smirk that rose onto his lips at Bailey's discomfort. "Must have been the dark magic. Maybe it offset the pleasure?"
"I guess," Bailey mumbled, unsatisfied with the plausible answer.
Stella cleared her throat, drawing the pair's attention. She was wrapped up in a soft, wool blanket, her face blotchy from crying most of the way back to the Vrana's suite. She shifted under their regard.
"They were coming after me," she said, her words sounding like they were dragged over gravel. She cleared her throat again and cast her eyes to the floor. "At least, Cirian was, wasn't he?"
Stella's eyes darted up in time to catch Bailey's apprehension. Grimacing, she put a hand on her knee in comfort. "It looked like it."
Stella released a shaky exhalation. "That's what I thought." Stella pinched the bridge of her nose and took in several deep breaths. "How am I supposed to defend myself against those things? Especially when it took all of you, plus the Delacroix, to stop them."
"Don't sell yourself short, Stella." Bailey's reprimand was delivered with a soft squeeze to the banshee's knee. "What was that thing you did with your voice to the shadowmancer? It was like a canon."
Stella's mouth opened and closed. Color rose briefly to the tips of her cheeks. Bailey could practically see the gears whirling in her head, trying to find an explanation, but then she slouched and gave a weary shrug.
"I have no idea." Her tone carried the worry she wore.
"Well, get ready to," Bailey said, "because I'm going to help you figure out how to use that, plus some other basic self-defense."
Stella perked up. "Really?"
"Yes. I've been caught up with Wilding work but I have wanted to get you ringside for a while. Let's get something on the books soon. I'll have you kicking ass in no time."
Stella smiled gratefully. "Thanks. Between you and Ronan, maybe I can do more than just survive here at court."
Bailey's heart skipped a beat. Her body tensed minutely as Deval finished wrapping her forearm. By tomorrow, it would be healed.
"When did you speak to Ronan?"
"Before the full moon festivities began. He seemed kind of distracted, but he insisted on getting together soon. He wanted to talk about our origins. We're both harbingers of death, classically speaking. But I haven't seen him for a few nights now," she admitted, eyebrows tipping downward. She took a long drink of tea. It soothed the roughened edges of her words when she continued. "Do you think you could maybe remind him?"
Seek out her soulmark? Her heart skipped a beat.
"Of course, I will."
And maybe after she reminded him about his commitment to Stella, she'd remind him of his commitment to her.
XIV
"Can we take a break?"
Bailey's eyes darted to the clock positioned above the locker room's entrance. For the past hour, she'd been working with Stella on her self-defense in the fighting pits’ sizable back training room. One look at Stella, and you'd think they'd been at it the entire evening.
Sweat stains darkened the collar of her shirt, armpits, and lower back. Bailey met Stella's pale blue eyes and lowered her hands to her side in a more casual stance.
"Sure."
Bailey bit back a smirk at Stella's whimper of relief. The banshee shuffled off to the sidelines and flopped to the floor like she was a starfish. Unable to resist, Bailey strolled up to her side.
"Next, we'll work on your voice."
Stella whimpered again and scrunched her eyes closed. "Do we have to?"
"Yes." Bailey folded down to sit at her side, crossing her ankles out in front of her. "You should be happy. Voice work doesn't include any of the drills we've been doing."
The banshee cracked an eye open as her hand went to her nose.
Stella was the most uncoordinated supernatural Bailey had ever met. Her nose was swollen from where she'd run into Bailey's elbow during a simple demonstration.
"Thank the Gods." Stella gingerly probed the offended appendage. "Sorry about running into you again."
Bailey barked out a laugh. "You're the one who ended up with a bloody nose, not me." The evidence of said bloody nose was tucked away inside the back pocket of Bailey's shorts for the time being. "I'm just happy no vamp was here. On second thought, if one was here, I might have been able to give you a better demonstration of those self-defense moves."
Stella snorted and hauled herself to rest on her forearms. "I'm glad nobody was here to see me make an ass out of myself."
The place was deserted, but that wasn't much of a surprise given the current state of the Dark Court.
No one was pleased about the opera fiasco that had left eight dead and several more injured. Or that the shadowmancer remained at large. Distrust and hostility simmered inside the courtier ranks, which only spiked further when news of Cirian's suicide the following dusk hit the gossipmongers.
Most courtiers took refuge in their apartments while the Delacroix executed a tedious interrogation of those in attendance at the opera.
Bailey hoped they would figure it out sooner rather than later. She was tired of fighting the shadowmancer’s possessed vampyrés now dubbed the rabidus. They were getting stronger and more bloodthirsty… and far smarter than she liked.
Bailey's hand ran over the indentation of pink marks on her forearm. The niggling fear that she was now infected with whatever dark magic polluted the vampyrés was yet to leave her, even though a thorough assessment by both Jax and River declared her clear.
