Chapter 31

31

" S earch the house," the man commands.

No, no, no! Who knows what they will do if they find the dogs. Oh, Lord! They can't get their hands on my babies!

Right as the cuffs are about to click around my wrists, I let out a loud scream that brings my energy to the surface.

The blast from my scream sends the entrance door and everyone in my vicinity flying away from me.

I slowly turn around.

The men are groaning in pain on the ground. But before I can get my bearings together, they get up and channel their own energies, preparing to strike.

I gulp down.

Where the hell are you, Nyk?

Letting my energy surface, I watch as the pink glow envelops me, creating a powerful shield. And as the first men send blows my way, I focus on deflecting them. Their energies are dark, similar to Nykander's, but there is another layer of foulness that reminds me of Baine's putrid influence over Damien.

I rush out of the lighthouse, worried any blow might harm the structure and in turn hurt the dogs. The men, seeing me flee, follow me. I run toward the shore, my pulse pounding in my temples as I try to remember what I learned in the last few weeks. If Nykander isn't here to help, then the only thing I can do is help myself.

The men assemble in a triangular formation, uniting their powers into one huge cloud of energy. Like a cannonball, they aim it toward me and fire. A ball of dark, dangerous energy heads my way, and I turn just in time to reinforce my shields to deflect it.

Yet this time it's too powerful.

I'm thrown back, spinning in the air before I tumble to the ground.

My shield disintegrates.

Bones crack and snap, the sounds drowning among the battle cries of the soldiers rushing toward me. My tibia breaks through the surface of my skin, the bone broken in half. One part is sticking out, shattered from the impact.

My breathing turns harsh as a ringing echoes in my ear.

The soldiers eat the distance in seconds.

Stumbling to my feet, I bring my fist against my lower leg, pushing the bone inside. The pain is astounding. But the fear of what might happen to me if they catch me is stronger.

Once the soldiers are close enough, they resume their formation. It strikes me that this is the only way they can channel enough power as independently their blows had been mild. That means the key to getting out of this situation alive is to eliminate them one by one in order to ruin their formation.

While they merge their energies together, I close my eyes, willing my shield to take shape—but this time stronger, more durable.

The pink mist surrounds me, the shield thicker than before. From a shimmery shadow, it turns more opaque as if I were enveloped by a border. To bolster it, I imagine the layer expanding, becoming broader. Slowly, it bleeds into the space around me.

What had Nyk said? The moment it becomes thick enough, I should pull from it and mold it to my will. The goal is to create a weapon of pure energy as he'd done with his sword.

The darkness around the soldiers increases, becoming more opaque too. The triangle becomes filled with a black mass that seemingly morphs and moves as if it has a life of its own. Out of that dark pit, a creature of a sorts takes shape.

It has a head, arms, and legs. But its interior is entirely black. The same putrid stench comes from it, filling my nostrils and threatening to make me sick.

The dark creature stands tall above the triangle until it's fully formed. Stepping outside of the formation, it presses its heavy feet on the ground, which results in a slight quake—enough for the lake to become unsettled and water to spill over the pebbled shore.

The soldiers move in tandem to avoid contact with the water. I do as well, knowing one touch might prove fatal at this time. But the creature doesn't. It remains unmoving even as drops of that cursed water wash over its dark surface.

Despite having no eyes, it follows my movements with its head, orientating itself toward me and releasing a loud roar.

Damn it!

"Where are you, Nyk?" I ask for the thousand time.

The commotion makes the dogs agitated, and I can hear their little terrified barks as they scratch at the locked door.

My eyes flare in panic. Good Lord, they must be in such distress to behave like this that it breaks my heart.

I need to end this quickly.

Extending my arms to my side, I focus on my energy, morphing it into two boomerangs.

Another loud noise breaks my concentration as the creature dashes toward me.

It's over eight feet tall, and every time it steps onto the ground, a quake ensues. His steps are powerful and merciless.

Seeing as how the creature is following me, I run farther away from the lighthouse, using one boomerang to probe at its dark surface. But my boomerang doesn't even make contact with the creature. As it flies toward it, it seemingly melts into its dark body. At the same time, a sickening sensation overtakes me. The creature swallows my energy. Despite not hurting me physically, a stain forms in my soul—similar to what had happened when I'd confronted Baine's demon.

I bite my lip in uncertainty. If I can't strike the creature, then what can I do?

My eyes move across the field, and I spot the soldiers' formation. They are still chanting together. Above the triangle, the dark surface from which the creature had been born is continuously shifting and morphing. There are waves on its surface as they channel more energy and infuse it into the creature.

If I can't cause any damage to the creature, then maybe hitting the formation might help.

As I run from the creature, I take a deep breath, willing my powers to obey me for once. Using the boomerang I have left, I throw it toward the creature. But instead of willing my weapon to hit it, I command it to circle him.

The creature might be huge, but it's quite slow.

As the boomerang flies around its frame, it struggles to catch it in his humongous hands. I maintain my focus, willing the boomerang to do a few spins around the creature and distract it long enough so I can plan my attack on the soldiers.

Just as the creature reaches for the boomerang again, seemingly capturing it in its dark fist, my weapon dips low, barely escaping the creature's grasp. My eyes are on the boomerang as I use my hands to dictate its next movements. Flying low around the creature, I command it to slip between its legs and head for the soldiers at maximum speed.

By the time the creature tries to grab the boomerang again, it's already on its way to the formation.

This is it.

I inhale deeply, keeping my focus sharp.

The boomerang flies with increased speed, aiming straight for the head of the triangular formation.

The soldiers recognize the incoming attack, but as the creature turns around to protect them, it's too late. The boomerang hits the first man, cutting through his flesh until his torso becomes separated from his lower body.

"Yes," I whisper. "Go on."

It doesn't stop at the first man. It flies farther within the formation, injuring a few more. Unfortunately, the momentum dies, and before the creature can swallow my energy up, I absorb it back into my shield.

The formation wobbles as the soldiers hurry to resume a triangular shape without the man who died. The injured ones are still alive, the wounds minor. Yet there is one sign that tells me to continue.

As soon as the formation shrinks, the creature does too. It becomes smaller by almost a head.

My eyes widen, and hope blossoms in my chest.

It will be impossible to deal with the creature directly, so I will have to attack the soldiers instead. But now that they've seen my strategy, they command their creature to stick by their side to protect them. Instead of taking the offensive, now the creature is on the defensive. And with it eating up my energy every time it swallows it up, I can't afford to waste my attacks.

The chants of the formation change, and the creature places its hands together, weaving some of its darkness into a ball of energy that it shoots my way. Different from the first time, though, this one chases me around, hitting my shield time and time again until cracks appear over the surface.

What…

My eyes widen in shock, and one second of inattention is enough to give the creature an advantage. I'm flung backward, and as I land on the ground, my shield shatters around me. Shards of pinkish colored glass are strewn all around me, a physical manifestation of my weakness.

Bringing my hand to my nose, I wipe away drops of blood that drip down my mouth and chin.

I'm breathing hard.

My body hurts, both from the impact and from the energy I used up.

Yet I can't give up.

The whines of the dogs are loud in my ears. PomPom's sharp cry followed by BonBon's howl and Ander's whimpers of uncertainty cause a rift inside my soul.

They won't hurt my babies. Even if it's the last thing I will do, I will make sure my babies are safe.

Sniffling and wiping the blood from my face, I get to my feet. Feet apart, I assume the posture Nykander taught me. Closing my eyes, I visualize my shield taking shape again. I channel my energy to the surface, but this time ten times stronger.

More blood pours from my nose as I force the power out of me. My ears are ringing, and the veins in my temples throb from the effort. But I don't let the overwhelming sensation of pain stop me.

"You will not win," I mutter. First, it's a whisper. But as my energy spills forth from deep within me, my words become a loud cry—a weapon that spears right through the soldiers' formation.

They hold steady, ordering the creature to move in front of them and absorb the blow. But I take advantage of the creature's lack of speed to run around in circles, releasing shout after shout until my throat is raw from screaming. Each vocalization is a blow.

My voice is my weapon, and as I slowly learn how to use it, I dig deep within my soul, ransacking all those conflicting emotions and bringing them to the surface to fuel my rage.

The creature runs with me, trying to keep up. But even at my normal pace, I'm faster than it.

The wave of energy my voice produces causes ripples in the formation. And as the formation wobbles, so does the creature, losing some of its balance. I take advantage of that to channel my energy into boomerangs again.

I destabilize them with my screams, and before they can gather their bearings, I unleash my boomerangs.

It's hard to control both weapons at the same time.

My voice is easier since it comes naturally. But the boomerangs require precision and aim.

My vision becomes a tunnel, and the target is the light at the end.

The boomerangs circle around the creature while I rattle the formation some more. While the creature chases after one of the boomerangs, the other heads straight for the bottom of the triangular formation where most of the soldiers are gathered together. As it reaches close to them, I pull all my remaining energy and imbue it into that weapon. The boomerang grows in size exponentially, and by the time it hits the target, it's the size of the entire line-up of soldiers, cutting them all in one go. As it moves farther into the triangle, it loses some of the momentum, but it still manages to kill another row.

My knees buckle and I collapse to the floor.

There are around six soldiers left alive, out of which most are already injured.

The dark veil covering their foundation dissipates, and with it, so does the creature, melting seemingly into the ground.

I breathe harshly. My throat aches, and I can't even swallow the excess saliva coating my mouth.

More blood flows from my nose and ears. My eyes, too, are bleeding tears of blood. Every orifice in my body is suddenly assaulted by uncontrollable hemorrhage. My energy flickers in and out around me, close to disappearing.

The remaining soldiers assess the damage with horror in their eyes. But soon, that horror turns to anger and they turn their attention toward me. Unsheathing their swords, they rush toward me with a cry of war.

I startle back, wobbling to my feet. My legs tremble, and I'm barely able to move from the weakness that settles in my bones.

I'm too slow for them, and before I know it, they're in front of me, waving their swords in blinding motions until each blade cuts me in a different spot.

More blood gushes from my flesh, the cuts so deep, they aren't even healing anymore.

And as one sword penetrates my midriff, I choke on the blood rushing up my throat.

I cough uncontrollably, all the while flailing my arms and legs in an attempt to move away from them.

Dizziness overtakes me.

"Nyk," I whisper. "Where are you?"

My voice is barely audible from the damage to my throat. Pain unlike any I've ever felt sears itself in my soul, as well as the anguish at being abandoned like this.

He was supposed to be by my side. He was supposed to protect me. So where is he? Where is he when my flesh is being torn from me? When blow after blow cuts me so deep, I cannot verbalize the pain any longer.

My attempts to invoke my shield are useless. It materializes for a few seconds before it disappears. The pain is too great for me to focus on anything other than the puncture wounds.

I crumble to the ground, unable to move, or fight, or even speak.

As they see me down and defeated, they don't stop. At once, the six of them raise their swords high and aim them for my chest. The sharp tips sink in my skin, eliciting a muted groan of pain. My mouth is wide open, my mind screaming, yet only silence greets me.

The soldiers laugh at my pain, kicking me with their feet and spitting on me in derision. I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes so I don't see their mocking expressions or the promise of more pain reflected in their gazes.

Yet throughout this entire ordeal, there is only one pervasive thought.

Nyk… Where are you?

I refuse to believe he would abandon me like this in my time of need. I refuse to believe he wouldn't come once my wounds mirrored on his body. And if he's not here, then there is only one explanation.

He's hurt too.

He's somewhere out there, hurting as much as I am—perhaps more.

I'm sorry, Nyk…

My lashes are heavy with a mix of salty tears and thick blood, clogging my sight.

Pain is everywhere.

My awareness dims by the second, but it's not before I hear more laughter, accompanied by a, ‘we have to make her pay for killing our brothers.' But if that had been all, I would have been fine. Yet right as they remove their swords out of my body, the suggestions change. No longer is the punishment for killing their brothers death. No, it is something far worse.

I blink against the dried blood holding my lids together. They barely creep open, my lashes ripping with the effort. My sight is hazy, but I can make out the circle they've made around me. They snicker and kick at me. But not before long, the taunts turn from violent to sexual. One of the men reaches for the fastening of his trousers, pulling his dick out.

Terror grips me from deep within, but I am too weak to move—too weak to even vocalize a protest.

Warm, foul liquid sprays over me as he relieves himself on my battered body.

The jokes continue, calling me a whore who cheated her husband of his property. And there is only one lesson for one such as me.

The others follow the man's lead, opening their trousers and peeing on me.

It takes everything in me to move my head to the side so they don't aim at my face.

If it had ended with this humiliation, I could have lived with myself. But as they kneel next to me, pulling at my pants, I know that what awaits me is a fate worse than death.

Nyk… Where are you when I need you, Nyk?

A lone tear rolls down my cheek before I close my eyes. If this is going to happen, then at least I want no memory of it—of their dirty touches.

A wild cry permeates the air, and before the men can touch me, they're thrown off me. They land a distance away on the shore, and right as they try to get up and fight, they are turned into dust.

Nyk…

He's here.

My lips tremble in a failed attempt at a smile.

I don't think I've ever been happier in my life.

He crouches next to me, his features as ravaged by pain as mine. He lifts a hand to my face, caressing me lightly.

"Drink," he whispers, bringing his wrist to my mouth and urging me to bite him.

I can barely open my mouth wide enough to grasp at his skin. My gums tingle, and my fangs slowly extend. The process in itself is arduous as I can hardly control my body. My fangs graze his skin and a few drops of blood hit my tongue.

That is enough to help expedite my healing and allow me to bite into his flesh more thoroughly.

His blood flows into my mouth, and as I gain more strength, I pull his hand closer, wrapping my lips around his wrist and drinking greedily.

He stares at me with an odd look in his eyes. There's anguish but also something else.

"Where…were…you?" I ask once my throat has healed enough that I can speak. "I waited…for you…Nyk. I waited…"

"I am here now, Barbs," he murmurs.

"Why… Why did you not come to me?" I swallow down against the wave of pain that hits me—yet this time it's not physical. As my body starts to mend, the pain that remains behind is entirely on the inside. "I called…for you," I croak.

"I came as soon as I could, Barbs." His lips flatten.

"I called for you," I repeat, breaking down in sobs as I curl into a fetal position.

He stares at me, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"I was at the Jubal palace and they have runes around the place that inhibit powers. I am so sorry, Barbs," he explains, his voice tinged with regret.

I avert my gaze, shutting my eyes as a shudder goes down my back.

"If you hadn't come…" I whisper. "If you'd been a few minutes late, they would have…" My voice breaks as I imagine what could have happened. "And I was powerless to stop them. They would have raped me and I couldn't even move to defend myself," I cry out.

"Barbs," he murmurs my name in a soft voice. "I am so sorry, sweet thing. I am so fucking sorry."

"You weren't here, Nyk," I continue. "You promised me… You promised you would protect me and…" I choke on my sobs as I bring my hands to shield my face.

I feel dirty, tired, and utterly heartbroken for an ineffable reason.

He couldn't come. I understand that. But it doesn't make the heartache any less. It doesn't take away from my pain, my terror, and my now-dying expectations of him.

"I waited for you…" I whisper like a broken record.

Guilt flashes across his face and he leans in to lay a kiss on my forehead.

"I will make it up to you, I swear," he says.

"I don't think you can…" I slowly look up, regarding him with the broken shards of my innocence.