Chapter 23
Oriel’s head ached something fierce as he came to, a pulse of fiery pain. He gingerly touched the place where it throbbed and winced. Why did his head hurt so much? What happened?
With immense effort, he pushed himself up from the ground, his head spinning dizzily at the exertion. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t recall what.
He opened his eyes, squinting against the glow of candles flickering around him. But once his eyes adjusted, he made out several tables filled with a variety of equipment from sharp tools to herbs to the strong odor of human blood. Very strong. He winced when he noticed the bathtub filled with the thick, red substance. Where was he?
“You’re awake, finally,” someone said. “Now we can begin.”
Oriel recognized the voice. Henry.
A sudden flash of memories overcame him. The cloak filled with straw. Getting knocked out. Henry’s treachery. This wasn’t a safe place.
As fast as he dared to move, he attempted to dart away from the direction of Henry’s voice, but he only screamed as unexpected pain pulsed through his body as he ran straight into a barrier of magic. He leaped backward and saw what held him prisoner. A witch’s pentagram, with candles lit at each point of the star.
“What do you want?” he growled, though his head still spun and disoriented him. It was all he could do to keep himself upright.
Finally, his head stopped spinning as Henry stepped into the light, his eyes dark and unfriendly. No, they weren’t just dark. They were red. Henry was a vampire.
“How…how…how is that possible?” Oriel asked, backing away.
Henry seemed to know exactly what he referred to. “Bathing in human blood will allow me to smell like a human for approximately a week. It was a good farce. Good enough to fool you. And your traveling companion.”
Dread filled him at the mention of Cosette. “What have you done to her?”
“I couldn’t pass up a chance to sell a Dragomir female,” Henry said as he sat in a chair, twirling a lethal-looking tool in his hands. “An unmated Dragomir female. At first, I wasn’t sure. You put up a good front. But my spies looked into the situation, and to my pleasant surprise, she was very unattached.”
He felt sick. A pit formed in his stomach and refused to leave. “You sold her?”
Fury wrapped him in a blanket of fumes. He wanted to charge at him, though the invisible wall between them kept him at bay.
“Not yet, no. She’s on her way to auction. Fortunately for me, she is the most valuable property I have ever owned.”
This time, he did charge, but the invisible wall struck him backward, and he landed hard on his back. His fangs sprouted, and he began to charge again, but Henry darted forward right then with his tool, entering the pentagram and grabbing him by the jaw. His eyes widened with horror as he realized what he was trying to do.
He wanted his fangs.
Oriel retracted his fangs before Henry was able to extract them, much to the man’s annoyance. The other vampire backed out of the pentagram and eyed him as if reassessing his strategy. If he lost his fangs, he would first become incredibly sick, and then he would die. To lose his fangs meant inevitable death.
“Do you know why I can’t take your fangs while you’re unconscious?” Henry asked, spinning his tool between his fingers once more. “Because I would have to dig them out of your gums, and in the process, your venom would consume the fangs before I had a chance to pull them to the surface. You’re only still alive right now because I want those fangs. Don’t make me resort to bribery to get you to comply.”
Taking a shuddering breath, he climbed to his feet and assessed his surroundings. Plenty of tools littered the counter. The bathtub full of blood. Candles lying in a box. Nothing could help him. Nothing but…
His heart leaped with hope as he noticed the iron stake sitting out in the open, lying on a table beside the tub. If he could just get to it, he could kill Henry and go after Cosette.
“What bribery?” he asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.
“Adult male vampires are just about worthless at auction,” Henry said, still twiddling the metallic tool in his hand. “They’re too hard to control. Females and children, on the other hand… They can sell for a mighty fine price. But vampire fangs are incredibly valuable in the underground market. If you willingly give me your fangs, I will allow Lady Dragomir to be sold to a household where she will not be beaten. She will be taken care of.”
The longer Henry spoke, the sicker he felt. “Why an unmated female?” he asked, his voice escaping as no more than a husky whisper.
Henry stood, eyeing him carefully as if he expected him to charge again at any moment. “I think you already know why. Humans love their mistresses.”
Oriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This could not be happening. This was all his fault. He never should have taken Cosette on this two-week outing. It put her in danger. Serious danger. He could imagine how terrified she was. Terrified and alone.
His heart ached as he had an awful thought. He and Cosette had not yet mated. It was possible if he ended up breaking free of Henry’s captivity and went after her, he might find her innocence destroyed without her consent. She would be a hollow thing if he brought her back to live with him, as she’d be mated to another male.
On the other hand, if he willingly gave Henry his fangs—assuming he’d remain true to his word—it was more likely she would be sold to a respectable enough home where she could possibly find happiness, even as a mistress.
It wasn’t even a possibility he could entertain. He would give his fangs for Cosette. He would die for her. But he would never subject her to such a life.
“Tell me where she is headed,” he finally said, clenching his jaw, and his fists came after as he clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Where are you taking her?”
“To auction,” he replied simply. “But to which one on which day, you don’t need to be privy to such information. However, I am willing to tell you should you give me your fangs.”
“Give Cosette back to me, and you shall have my fangs. My fangs and whatever price you might have sold her at. I have a great fortune. I will pay any price for you to bring her back to me. Untouched.”
Henry paused for a moment, staring him down as if considering his offer. But in the end, he shook his head, much to his devastation. “You underestimate the price I will receive for such a beauty. The female will elevate my name, and the future goods I bring in will be worth so much more after the transaction. Besides, you know too much about my operation already. Letting both of you go will do more harm than good.”
Oriel turned away for a moment, and he tried to steel his emotions. This was all his fault. How could he have let this happen? As Cosette’s mate, he had been charged with providing her with protection. He had failed. And so quickly.
“I beg you,” he whispered. “I will do anything. Please.”
“You are not in a position to make bargains,” Henry growled impatiently as he stood, circling the pentagram. “I will be the only one to gain here. The only thing you can do is make Lady Dragomir’s situation slightly more bearable. I suggest you make your decision quickly, as the offer will not be on the table for much longer. What will it be?”
My sweet Cosette. Forgive me.
He opened his mouth to answer but closed it once more as he noticed one of the flickering candles out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, he saw it flicker again, part of a pattern. The candles flickered one at a time, one right after the other, and it reminded him of something Laurel had read to him one day at the library in Ichor Knell. At the time, he had been bored to death. But now he wished he had listened better, as the information had been about witches and their magic.
“To trap someone in a pentagram is an easy process,” Laurel had said. “You just need the right herbs, candles, and you have to draw the pentagram exactly correct, otherwise the spell won’t work.”
“And since when have you been so interested in witchcraft?” he had asked, his voice laced with boredom. Her words had meant nothing at the time. “You’re not thinking about hexing me, are you?”
“I was thinking nothing of the sort, but now that you’ve put the idea in my mind… I think it’s a splendid idea.”
He shook his head and closed his eyes as he desperately tried to remember the conversation. Not just the unnecessary parts. But the part crucial to his situation.
“You must place the first candle at the first and last point you make in the pentagram,” Laurel had explained while pacing back and forth with a rather large book open in her hands. “The other candles will follow with each point you make in the star. The herbs should be placed on the circle you make to connect each point of the star. This is what gives the pentagram power.”
He had rolled his eyes and placed his feet up on the desk. After all, he certainly wasn’t quite into scholarship as his sister was. “Now I understand. You are trying to summon a demon.”
“I am not! Not unless it’s a demon that will skulk in the shadows and drag you by the feet into the underworld beneath your bed.”
“And what if you only manage to trap yourself in this pentagram? What then?”
She had laughed at him as if it had been an easy solution. “You retrace your steps. Draw the pentagram backward, and the power will release enough to topple the candles over and free you from your own stupidity. Honestly, Oriel. Don’t you know anything?”
Silently, he thanked Laurel for unknowingly helping him. Now if he could just stall Henry long enough…
“I’m not sure I believe you have Cosette at all,” he said as he began to shuffle his feet backward from the candle that flickered first, though he made his actions look like nervous pacing.
“Oh, I have her,” Henry said, a malicious glint in his eyes. “She seemed rather concerned when I told her something awful had happened to you. At first, she was hesitant to step foot from the safety of her room. But she left nonetheless, and I trapped her.”
Anger pulsed beneath his skin at the confession, but he tried to force himself to remain calm. If he didn’t escape this entrapment, he could never help Cosette.
He was halfway done drawing the pentagram backward with his foot.
“What was she wearing?”
Henry shrugged his shoulders. “I was quite preoccupied with the scratch she delivered across my face. A dark blue dress, perhaps. With a white shawl. Which reminds me… I will need to throw the shawl out. It must be stained with my blood.”
Oriel had never killed a vampire before, but right then, he wanted so badly to hurt the male before him.
Stay calm, he told himself, taking a deep breath. He mustn’t be too hasty and ruin his only chance at escape.
“Do you have any partners in your operation?”
The other vampire glared. “The human trapper in the woods you killed. He held onto my property when I couldn’t. This was his cellar.”
A shudder ran through him as he glanced at each dark corner of the room.
“Who else is there?”
“I think you are done asking your questions,” Henry said with a displeased frown. “Now sprout your fangs so we may be done with this. I have places to be.”
His heart beat rapidly as he finished drawing the last line with his foot. A part of him doubted this would work, but it was Cosette’s only chance. He took a deep breath before striking out with his foot, kicking the candle that connected the first and last line of the pentagram.
He wasn’t sure who was more surprised—himself or Henry—when his foot didn’t hit a painful wall of magic, but rather, the candle flew across the room and smashed against the wall. For a moment, Henry was dumbfounded, and Oriel took advantage of his surprise.
Without a care for himself, he burst forward and slammed a fist against Henry’s chest. Several gruesome cracks followed, and he promptly delivered a kick to the vampire’s knee, which created another resounding crack.
Unfortunately, the element of surprise only lasted for so long.
Henry managed to wrap an arm around Oriel’s neck. They were quite evenly matched in strength. Although Oriel was no fighter, the thought of Cosette gave him the vigor he needed.
Items fell from the tables and clattered to the floor as they tussled, trading blows and trying to gain the upper hand over the other. He slammed his elbow into his opponent’s ribs, which made the male’s grip slacken around his throat. He ducked under his arm and punched Henry in the jaw, but his victory was short lived when Henry picked up a dueling cane and smashed it against his leg.
The bones broke with a snap, followed by a burst of fiery pain, but they were already starting to heal. In only a few seconds, he was able to put weight on it—just enough to dodge Henry’s attack with the cane aimed at his other leg.
He breathed hard as he rolled out of the way of another attack, grateful when his leg healed enough to start working again. As Henry swung the dueling cane at him, he grabbed it just before it made contact, and the two of them grappled for control of the weapon.
The grapple didn’t last long because Henry proved to be stronger. He gained control of the weapon and smashed it twice against Oriel’s arm, breaking it in two places. If he hadn’t been so blinded with pain, he just might have screamed.
“Those fangs are mine!” Henry cried murderously.
Henry gripped him around the throat and dragged him to the tub filled with human blood. His eyes widened, and he struggled to break free of the vampire’s grip, but to no avail. Henry bent him backward over the tub, and the smell of blood immediately overpowered his senses. His eyes prickled as they flashed red. His fangs wanted to emerge. It took all of his willpower to keep them in.
“Sprout them!” Henry shouted, slamming him against the edge of the tub. An intense pain burst through his back. To his horror, he found he could no longer move his bottom half, and through the agonizing pain, he lost focus on his sense of control.
“No…” he whimpered, his resolve wavering. “Please. I beg you.”
He tried to fight back, but with the lower half of his body refusing to obey him and one of his arms still in the process of healing from the break, fighting back was not a possible endeavor.
“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance. Lady Dragomir will be sold to the highest bidder, and you will be left here to die.”
Henry lowered him even closer to the blood. The intoxicating aroma threatened to make him lose his mind with bloodlust. With all his might, he fought against the instinct to sprout his fangs in the presence of human blood. Even he did not have enough self-control for this.
In a desperate attempt to save himself, his only working arm reached out to the table beside him for anything to help him escape. He fumbled across herbs and candles until his fingers brushed against something that burned his skin. His hand clasped around it, but as the scalding pain consumed him, he lost his last ounce of self-control. His fangs sprouted, and Henry didn’t waste a single second. The contraption swiftly entered his mouth, followed by a searing pain. Agony ripped across his jaw, and he nearly passed out.
But when his vision returned, he heard Henry grunt, his eyes glazing over as his grip loosened from his throat. Only then did he notice the iron stake protruding from the other vampire’s heart where he had stabbed him.
Grunting again, Henry fell over backward as the iron took effect. Only moments passed before Henry’s heart ceased beating and he lay still.
Oriel gasped in a breath of both shock and pain as he, himself, crumpled to the ground as his body attempted to heal itself of his back injury. It started slowly at first at the base of his spine, and then the healing accelerated until he could feel his toes and then his legs, and finally his back healed as if new, followed by the two breaks in his arm. But one thing didn’t heal.
His hand flew to his mouth, horror engulfing him when he felt the two spots where his fangs should have been.
His fangs were gone.
A choked sob escaped his throat as he found both fangs on the ground at his feet. He picked them up and cradled them in his palm. It had only taken moments for Henry to defang him. He felt as if he had been robbed of his vampirity. Robbed. Defiled.
An intense ache pounded in his chest at losing his fangs, as if he had lost an arm or a leg.
“Oh no…” he whispered, his eyes wide with horror when he felt a good portion of energy drain from his body. It was already starting. Losing his fangs would make him incredibly sick. The sickness would kill him. He might have days. He might have weeks. He wasn’t entirely sure. But it wouldn’t be long before he would die.
Pushing away his worry for himself, he stood on shaky legs and pocketed his fangs. He could worry about himself after he found Cosette and brought her back to safety. Until then, he refused to rest.
Before any of Henry’s operation partners could show themselves, he pocketed the iron stake and transformed into a swallow. His body hardly obeyed him, as drained of energy as it was, but he made haste. Cosette’s safety depended on him.
He took to the air and flew out the window into the blizzard raging outside. Another obstacle, but he refused to allow it to deter him. He would find Cosette if it was the last thing he ever did.