27. A Nightmare

Naia slumped down on the bedside. The plush fabric of Ronin's bedspread rubbed against the backs of her thighs. The room was dark, except for the city lights streaming in through the sliding glass door to the balcony.

She rooted herself in the feeling of the cool wooden planks beneath her bare feet; the rows of books in front of her on the shelf that divided the living room from the bedroom.

Naia chewed on her bottom lip, staring at the spine of a book she'd never heard of before. Ronin, lounged out on his couch with it in his hands, hair mussed and face relaxed, was an image she longed to see. Simple and lazy. Perhaps on a Sunday. She'd read how Sundays were supposedly slow days of the week for mortals.

His feet appeared between hers, covered in his slippers. She raised her chin to look up at him. Half of his face was hidden by a shadow, the other visible by the silvery glow of the lights. His hair was windswept from the drive.

She'd requested fresh air, and he turned up the music and let her hang her head out the open window.

Five minutes after the encounter with the informant, Noah and his crew arrived to erase all evidence of the fight and the man's corpse. Naia had stood off to the side with her arms folded, trying to untangle her emotions and feelings. Ronin kept quiet the entire drive, allowing her time to process.

Now, here he stood, frowning. Looking at her with eyes that felt like they cradled her soul.

Her mind was busy.

But her heart was as calm as a gentle sea.

She didn't agree with his actions, and it was the last thing she would've done.

But she didn't care.

Ronin had ended the man's life efficiently. A means to an end. The situation was far from black or white. In the end, he had done what he thought was best. Who was she to question his decision? He was the leader of the Blood Heretics with experience in loss and what it meant to survive.

Naia couldn't stop picturing the fear in his eyes when the man threw the beer at her. Ronin had been afraid. For her. Someone immortal. Something she'd dwelled on the entire drive home.

Her biggest fear had always been pain, and it seemed his was watching someone he cared about experiencing it.

Naia reached out and grabbed his hand. Assuring that stiff, moral part of herself it was okay to bask in the puddle of warmth collecting in her chest as a response to how much he cared for her.

Ronin dropped down on his knees and gently settled his chest between her spread legs. She tucked tendrils of his hair behind his ear, holding his gaze. The deeper she stepped inside of it, the further she wanted to fall.

Darkness and all; she wanted every part of him.

The tasteof the potion was similar to something decomposing on Naia's tongue. Two days of consistently taking a dose and she was still having to choke it down.

Naia rolled the vial between her fingertips. Held it up to her mouth. Grimaced. Threw her head back and choked down the potion. It bubbled in her stomach. She coughed and tensed her abdomen to keep from retching.

Setting aside the vial on the bar, she chugged the drink the bartender had made her. The burn of the alcohol lit a fire down her esophagus.

"What the hell is this?" She coughed.

A faint swish sounded beside her.

"Vodka," Theon supplied, sitting on the stool next to her and typing quickly on the screen of his phone.

He was an image of plush white hair and skin as pale as winter itself. She wanted desperately to wretch his mask off his face to sate her curiosity.

Theon glanced around the lounge. It was practically empty due to Ronin calling a meeting with most of the members to brief them on the bombs.

"What are you doing?" Naia asked him, still wincing from the sting of her drink.

Although it was an improvement from the awful flavor of the repulsive concoction she had just consumed.

Theon reached over the bar and snatched a half of a lemon from the glass bowl. "Ronin ordered me to include you in more Blood Heretic duties."

"Why?"

"Because he said that is what you wanted." Theon handed her the lemon wedge. "Was he wrong?"

Her cheeks reddened. She accepted the lemon, staring down at it.

After their encounter with the informant, she specifically told Ronin she wanted to be more involved with his organization, but she hadn't expected him to be straightforward and turn it into an order. Much less task Theon to do the job.

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "I…"

"Want to be a part of something," he finished. It sounded like he understood.

Then he gestured down to the lemon in her fingers with the click of his eyes, light and blue as a river. "Lemon helps kill the taste of the potion."

She squeezed the plump fruit over her mouth. Beads of juice dripped onto her tongue. The sour tang clenched the muscles in her jaws and she puckered her face.

"Did you feel the same when you first joined?" Her eyes squinted from the taste. She shook her head and discarded the rung-out lemon slice.

Theon stared at her with no indication of replying.

Naia positioned her body to face him, brows lifted, waiting.

"I am not here to exchange feelings," he deadpanned.

"What is your story?" She tilted her head. Strands of her silver hair slipped over her shoulders as she leaned in and lightly nudged his arm. "Come on. I'm awfully curious how a god became a part of an organization who despises them."

He wiped at the spot on his shirt she'd touched. "I'll have to be on my deathbed for you to hear my life story."

She licked the lemon juice off her lips, grinning. "Do you wear a mask because you do not know how to cloak your divinity?"

He sighed. "Must you ask so many questions?"

She sat up taller on her stool, enjoying the challenge. "What are the chances you'll remove your mask and let me see your face?"

"On your deathbed." He stood from his stool. "Now, if you wish to be more involved with our organization, get up and follow me."

Naia should've felta twinge of penitence for transporting a case of beer spiked with Ronin's blood, but she didn't.

Her job was relatively easy—walk the case from the warehouse to the loading lot. Nestled between the warehouse and brewery, down a long stretch of graveled road, it was surrounded by a privacy fence for seclusion. The case hardly weighed much of anything. To be a jackass—a word taught to her by Avi—Theon had tossed her his gloves as a dry sense of mockery when she hesitated for a beat to follow his instructions.

Because of her stubborn pride, she balanced the case with those gloves on her hands. To prevent calluses, Theon had said sarcastically.

The more she thought about it as she walked, the more she wondered who would succumb to drinking such poison. What kind of people bought the beer? And what deities was it being used on?

How many times in her life would she have jumped at the opportunity to buy a bottle of the beer and use it on Mira, or Marina even? If just to see them writhe with a genuine fear in their eyes, losing control, the vulnerability. Would they understand, then, how it felt to be truly powerless? The scene in her head was satisfying, but Naia knew, even if she had access to the blood back then, she wouldn't have gone through with it.

Naia pushed away her thoughts and instead fixated on the stillness of the night. The moon was half-full, like a cut potato, in the sea of blackness. There were no signs of stars in the city. The blinking lights of skyscrapers and pockets of streetlights burned bright enough to erase them.

The gentle coolness of the night felt good against her bare arms. Though it did not explain the sudden chill gripping her spine.

Naia stopped in her tracks. Readjusted the case in her grasp as she inspected her surroundings. She had to squint her eyes through the murky layer of darkness to make out the privacy fence ahead and the outline of the trees rocking in the sudden whoosh of wind.

Is the night darker than it should be?—

She felt the rumbling in the soles of her boots first. A crash followed, the sound like a wrecking ball bulldozing into the side of the brewery.

The force of the explosion threw her back. Gravel buried into her elbows and her backside as she smashed into the ground. Shards of brick and pieces of wood sliced across her cheeks. The icy burn of beer seeped through her clothes. A ringing screamed in her ears.

Naia attempted to climb up, but a sharp pain shot up her collarbone and into her head. She winced. Moved her chin down to find where it was coming from.

The neck of one of the beer bottles was gouged into her sternum.

Her heartbeat fired for a split second as she remembered the beer was spiked, but then quickly calmed when she realized she could still lift her arms.

Avi's potion worked.

Ronin's blood wasn't affecting her.

Ronin.

Where was he?

Naia struggled to see ahead, blinking away the grime in her eyes.

What was going on? Did someone set off a bomb?

The absence of answers fueled her determination. She summoned the strength to yank the glass from her chest and cast it aside. Blood seeped between her breasts and down her abdomen, quickly filling her lap. Tingles nipped across her cheeks. With each breath, she could feel the viscous liquid constricting her airways. Purple splotches invaded her vision.

No.

You can survive without breathing, she reminded herself as she wheezed. Only to feel the panic in her bloodstream when she could not.

It will heal.

You cannot die.

Naia mustered all her willpower and inched forward, her body lethargic from the blood loss. An intense heat stung her eyes, but she could see it. A monster of vivid orange flames devoured the brewery.

The breath evaporated from her lungs. The air polluted with smoke. As the fire blazed brightly, the floating figures of nightrazers swooped down from the night.

It rained blood.

With the burning windows as their backdrop, the Blood Heretics skillfully scaled down from the top story, leaving behind a trail of smoke and ash. From the warehouse, they poured out, some emerging from a secret door beneath a willow tree on the property.

The sphere-shaped objects soared like small meteors and detonated, one after another, in a downpour of blood. Pellets hit the top of Naia's head, dripped between her eyes, and over her lips. The rush of copper twisted her stomach.

Naia had not considered the grim aftermath of the bombs, with his blood scattered everywhere; of Ronin sitting in his office, bleeding to supply all the bombs.

She dug her fingertips into the gravel to ground herself as the taste of iron seeped into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. Her muscles were rigid and the purple blotches infecting her vision expanded.

Breathe.

She sucked in a deep breath until oxygen touched every inch of her lungs. The sensation fought away her lightheadedness.

Find him.

She fisted her gloved hands and climbed up.

Screams rang out as nightrazers tormented the area. Against the darkness, their phantom forms blended seamlessly, barely distinguishable. The sickening sound of tearing flesh and bodies hitting the ground from the top floor of the crumbling brewery accompanied the sight of them whirling and writhing like serpents in a deadly dance. They were careful to avoid the fire, as it was their enemy. Those caught in the blood bombs crossfire lagged, proof it affected them.

Naia reached for her hairpin as a reflex, only to remember she was no longer in possession of Wren. Vex had stolen it.

A lump swelled in her throat.

I am useless.

Chaos ensued around her, accompanied by the bone-chilling screams of the victims, leaving her uncertain of their fate.

I am weak.

Their enemy was practically invincible?—

Unless she could find Marina and take her out.

Keep him safe.

The pain receded in her chest, and she sprinted towards the burning building.

Any slight movement in her peripheral vision had her instinctively ducking and swerving. The nightrazers were circling vultures.

As Naia lost hope, a woman less than a yard away let out a furious scream and thrusted her arms up. The movement lifted the blinding wall of the flames eating the brewery and slashed them across the dark sky, burning the nightrazers to cinders. Their collective screeches echoed in sweet harmony.

The woman heaved her arm out again.

One after another, the Blood Heretics banded together and mirrored her movements until the midnight sky was painted in bright blue and tangerine flames.

All around them, nightrazers wailed in agony as they withered into dust.

One slithered through a crack of the fire and dove straight for the woman.

Naia's eyes darted around for something—anything.

Amidst the gravel was a stick. It was small, but something.

She snatched it up and took off towards the inferno.

With luck, the end of the branch caught fire quickly. Naia sent it sailing through the air, striking the burning match through the nightrazer.

It let out a deafening screech.

The woman whipped around, the flickering light of the flames illuminating her face.

Violet.

The glint in her eyes was murderous when they landed on Naia. Her pink hair was the color of rust. It wept down her face and all over her suit. Her vibrant and cheerful demeanor was nowhere to be found. In fact, she looked as if she'd crawled out of Moros itself.

Her eyes focused on Naia, and the fierceness in her features softened.

If they weren't being ravaged by shadowy creatures, Naia would've hugged her.

"Are you okay?" she shouted through the commotion.

Before Violet could answer, another ear-piercing screech ripped from behind.

Naia spun around to find a nightrazer disintegrating inches from her back.

Damian emerged through its sweeping remains, the sleeves of his button-up tattered, and his face covered in soot.

"Vi, get your crew to the warehouse," he ordered. "There's a barrier up keeping these shadow bastards out. Noah and his crew are trying to get to the wounded."

Violet nodded once and then looked at Naia. "Welcome to the Blood Heretics!" She smiled wide, throwing her tiny fist up. "Give them hell, Goddess!"

Fearlessly, she spun around and plunged into the hectic scene of fire and fighting.

Moisture welled in Naia's eyes, contradicting the warmth of acceptance and absolute fright tangling inside of her.

"Look alive, Goddess." Damian nudged her shoulder to get her attention. "You mean a great deal to the Blood Heretics, so try not to get yourself taken, okay?"

Naia turned to him, momentarily stunned by the genuine way he regarded her. "Where is Ronin?"

"He—"

A loud hissing sounded. They both whipped around as small white flakes floated in the air.

At first, Naia mistook it for soot, but when she stuck out her gloved hand, the delicate frozen shards melted on her leathered fingers.

Snow.

The remnants of the brewery groaned under the weight of the encroaching ice. A bone-chilling gust tore through the air, instantly freezing everything in its path and extinguishing the flames. Naia was awestruck as they flickered, determined to stay alive.

Theon's ghostly-pale hair caught the corner of her eye. She rotated in his direction.

He stood on the broken brewery's rooftop, surveying the carnage below.

It had been several minutes since a blood bomb had set off. And without the flames to ward them away, nightrazers began descending like hawks.

"Fucking hell," Damian snarled. At her side, his body jerked, one foot stepping out to spring into action, but then he suddenly halted.

Spikes tore up from the ground—sharp, dripping, crimson. Briars. Twisting and growing, the nightrazers caught in their entanglement like macabre ornaments.

Naia's breath caught, her eyes frantically following the trail of briars back to their master.

Ronin was in front of the warehouse, yards away from her, his skin covered in smudges of soot and his forearms drenched in his blood as he manipulated his thorns.

Avi emerged from behind him, the muscles in his arms flexing as he flung two potions on the ground. They hit with a boom and thick smoke infected the air. The nightrazers caught in its vicinity evaporated.

Ronin moved methodically, but with haste, controlling the briars of his blood as if they were extensions of his limbs. Before the nightrazers could set their sights on him, they were brought down. Deadly and efficient.

As his arms worked, his eyes scoured the disarray.

She opened her mouth to call out for him when a bad feeling flooded her gut. A trepidation she was well accustomed to, alerting her senses.

A black whirling shadow danced in her periphery.

Her pulse accelerated as it raced towards Ronin, faster than any mortal eye could register.

Not this time, Marina.

Kicking off her feet, the velocity at which Naia traveled blurred her surroundings as she weaved between those in her path.

Time moved slower.

Ronin's blood briars seized the space in front of him like a shield. He had enough sense to know when he was being targeted. But like the agile bat she was, Marina twisted at an angle at the last minute, preventing her from being hit.

Naia's heels dug into the gravel, appearing in front of Ronin, channeling all her strength into her fist as her knuckles collided with Marina's solar plexus.

The impact of the hit vibrated down Naia's arm as Marina flew backwards into the carcass of the brewery. Rubble and ashes puffed in the air like a mushroom cloud.

"Naia!" Ronin's wet fingers brushed her shoulder before she propelled in Marina's direction.

Naia made it halfway across the gravel road when a powerful force slung her back.

A dragon made of flames roared into the open night sky, sending a scorching trail of fire from its mouth in pulses. It loomed over the shoulders of the High God of Fire as he strolled down the road. The collected puddles of Ronin's blood on the gravel, the briars seizing to grab a hold of him—all of it burned.

And he was headed straight for her.

Bits of rocks stabbed in her knees as she got to her feet. She braced herself, the muscles in her legs clenched into a firm stance.

Solaris would never hurt her. Not physically, anyway.

He stopped a few feet away, waves of his fire rippling across her face.

Vines of blood briars licked around his flames just to wither.

Ronin shoved through the bodies to get to her.

On her left, Marina stepped out of the rubble, her nightrazers floating like wraiths at her side. She'd come prepared, protected by her silk black layers. Only the lethal cut of her eyes shone over the dark mask around her face.

Beneath his armor of fire, Solaris extended an arm and a barrier of flames shot down the road, twenty feet tall, separating the mortals from her.

"Naia!" Ronin shouted from the other side.

Marina's shadows quivered in small masses, attacking around Naia's arms and legs. Their touch was like insects burrowing in her pores. She growled and kicked. Ronin's blood caked all over her had no effect on them. And as Naia tried to rid herself of them, it hit her they were eating away the blood. To prevent the chance of it touching Marina or Solaris.

Aware of her sister's frightening aura, Naia dug her feet into the gravel. Marina materialized beside her, snapping out an arm.

Naia bent her knees and ducked. She couldn't move her feet from the shadows weighing down around her ankles.

Marina's fingers latched her by the throat and squeezed. Naia screamed and drove the heel of her hand into Marina's sternum. A crack reverberated in Marina's bone, the impact sending her flying back into the brewery's rubble again.

The shadows engulfing Naia's limbs thinned, granting her freedom to move. She glanced down at her clothes, the gloves on her hands, all licked clean from any traces of Ronin's blood. She could still feel it crusted on her face, in her hair. If she could trick one of them into?—

Solaris's powerful presence emanated against her backside. She twisted her head to find his arm extending for her. Before he could grab hold of her, she swerved and brought her leg up to deliver a fast kick to his gut.

He let out a grunt and simultaneously caught her by the ankle, jerking her forward. She stuck out her arm and pushed against his shoulder, lifting her free leg up to connect the toe of her boot to his chin.

He staggered on his heels, giving Naia enough time to run through his wall of fire and scale up the rubble into the brewery. She would not allow Marina out of her sight. Not with Ronin nearby.

She was on the second story, crawling her way out of what remained of the staircase.

Naia gripped Marina by her nape and flung her down the charred stairs. They snapped from the impact, crumbling.

Her hood fell to her shoulders, and her once immaculate black strands were now a tousled mess, much like the torn black fabric of her cloak. Pride swelled in Naia to witness Marina in such a state.

Marina inclined her head and growled. In a flash, she was gone and fabricating amidst a swirling ribbon of smoke in front of Naia, fisting her silver strands. For a brief moment, Naia was hopeful, but she caught a glimpse of Marina's hands protected by elegant gloves.

A searing wave of pain screamed in Naia's scalp as Marina hurtled her through the gaping hole of the brewery, sending her across the gravel road.

Naia curled her arms over her head, bracing herself as she met the exterior of the warehouse. Broken stone scraped the skin of her arms and legs, followed by an excruciating agony of bones splintering and stabbing through her flesh.

She rolled across the concrete floor and into a massive metal tank. It moaned on its bolted foundation. Shouts and commotion rang among those seeking treatment and refuge in the building.

Naia struggled to her feet, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain piercing her ribcage. Fresh blood warmed down her leg. She cursed under her breath, limping forward. Lethargy made her movements sluggish.

Find him.

Several people rushed towards her.

"Are you okay?"

Keep him safe.

"Get help! We need help!"

"I will be… fine," she said, her tongue dragging in her mouth.

A gentle set of hands came around her arms.

Noah stood in front of her, a gash on his forehead, his curls dampened with Ronin's blood. He fixated on the chunk of stone gaping out of her side. As if to ask for permission, his eyes met hers and she nodded.

Naia ground her jaw. The grip of his fingers slightly tightened on her arm. She turned her head away as the block of stone was torn out of her flesh.

Naia cried out. A ravine of blood gushed down her hip and she slumped forward, catching herself on Noah's bicep. He supported her weight when a rush of dizziness threatened her stance.

"Thank you," she mumbled through numb lips.

He released her with a firm nod.

She climbed through the hole she'd put in the wall, gripping the rough, jagged edges of the stone.

"Naia!" Ronin's arm wrapped around her chest from behind, pulling her into him. His nose and mouth nestled the back of her hair. His breathing was ragged, and his touch was sticky.

"Avi!" Damian shouted from inside the warehouse.

"We need more healing!"

The stench of sweat mixed with the metallic tang of blood hung heavily in the air, clinging to those who remained on the battlefield. Naia could hardly tell if it was their own or Ronin's. They tripped over dead bodies scattered across the gravel, vandalized with horrendous bite marks and slashes across their throats. One of which was a pink-haired witch. Her eyes were wide and lifeless, devoid of her beautiful range of emotions.

Naia's heart descended into her stomach at the sight of Violet.

Dead.

"Naia." Ronin gripped her harder. "Nai?—"

The shadow barreling towards them drowned out all sounds.

A protective instinct heaved up in Naia, and she shoved Ronin back by his chest.

At the last second, he caught her by the wrist and forced her down with him. His back hit the gravel, and she rolled off his chest.

Naia lifted her head as Marina's heel plunged into Ronin's stomach. He sputtered out a cough.

Naia shrieked.

Ronin's arm shot up and gripped her covered ankle. An explicit sign of bravery. Marina cocked her head down at him.

Naia lunged for her sister, but a spearhead of glass swiped inches from her nose and pierced through Marina's wrist. She slung back by its force. Like a nail, it bound her to the exterior of the warehouse. Another penetrated through her leg. Another in her arm.

Not glass.

Ice.

Theon's alabaster strands peeked through a haze as he materialized, dropping at Ronin's side. He wasted no time tearing apart Ronin's shirt to staunch the bleeding. "Avi!" he boomed.

Naia's hands shook, gaping down at the wound pooling blood on Ronin's abdomen.

How was Marina able to harm him?

Grimacing, Ronin lifted himself to a sitting position, his eyes never leaving Marina.

Avi emerged from the warehouse, already uncorking a potion. He crouched at Ronin's other side. "Lay back down!"

"Watch out!" someone yelled.

Naia's muscles tensed. She whipped her head around to see flames blasting through the air. Theon sprung up. Naia took a step to follow his lead as the inferno crashed into him.

Solaris's figure took form from the crackling body of fire, locking Theon in a chokehold. The blood on Theon sizzled as quickly as it made contact with Solaris's skin.

In a skillful motion, Solaris rotated Theon in his hold, using his boot against his tailbone to force him onto his stomach, and pinning his arms behind his back.

Naia was submerged by a familiar sense of helplessness.

She looked down at Ronin. He held a hand over his wound.

Give up.

Marina ripped her wrists free from the ice spears, so quick her wounds were like pinpricks. She attacked at a speed no mortal eye could follow, kicking Avi back with her boot to his chest, and gathered a handful of Ronin's hair. Her gloves protected her hands from the residue of his blood, collected in his strands, streaking down his face. She forced his head back, revealing a deadly look torching in his eyes.

A velvety laugh left her mouth, a scornful sound of mockery. She came closer to his face, taunting him. "You can try your little magic tricks on me, witch, but they won't work."

Naia's heart boomed in her ears, thumping wildly in her throat. He was trying to manipulate her blood, same as the times he'd done with Vex and Malik. Only, it wasn't working.

She needed to do something. Now. Before—before he?—

"Marina, don't hurt him!" Naia shouted, lifting her shaking hand. "I will do whatever you wish. Please! Stop this!"

Marina brought her head up to Naia, victory glinting in her dark eyes. "Marry Solaris right here, right now, and I will spare him."

Naia assessed Ronin's ashen complexion, the rainbow of blues and purples splotching around his eyes. He had lost too much blood, and if he didn't get help, he would die.

She fixed a hard look on Solaris for confirmation, her trust low when it came to her sister.

He nodded. "You have my word, love."

She raised both of her arms in surrender. "Okay."