The Witch's Daughter (Rune Alexander Book 7) Page 8

  Elias thought for a moment, then blew out a long, hard breath. He nodded. “Take us out of here, Lem.”

  Rune breathed a silent breath of relief and let her body relax. If he’d refused to take them to Flesh, there wouldn’t have been a whole hell of a lot she could have done about it.

  “Where are Naddy and Roma?” Z asked.

  Blue glared at Elias. “He put us in separate trucks, the bastard.”

  “They okay?” Z asked.

  “Yeah,” Blue said. “They were fine when they got shoved into the vehicles. You guys are supposed to be on our side,” she told Elias.

  “We have to be careful.” His voice was mild. “You should know better than to think we could trust you right off the bat.”

  “You didn’t have to trust us. Just treat us with the respect we deserve as enemies of the fucking witch.”

  He didn’t look away from Blue, but Rune was almost certain she saw a quick spark of shame deep in his chocolate brown eyes.

  “If you’ll be a good girl,” he said, “I’ll get you out of those restraints.”

  “Release her,” Z said. “She’ll behave.”

  Blue glanced at him, hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll want my swords. And the bag of supplies I had.”

  “You’ll get them when we drop you at Flesh.” Elias leaned forward and snagged a key from under his seat, then tossed it to Z. “She’s your responsibility now, my man. Sorry.”

  “Asshole,” Blue muttered.

  Z took Rune’s hand and caressed it lightly with his thumb. “You okay?”

  She rolled her head weakly on her neck to look at him, and stared at him as though he were her lifeline. “No, Z.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “Elias.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hurry.”

  Elias turned toward the driver. “Give it some speed, Lem.”

  “How long?” Rune asked. The world was fading. Or she was. Colors had become muted and vague, and even the vivid green of Z’s eyes had dulled. “Everything’s so gray.”

  “Sweet thing,” Z whispered, agony in his face.

  “We’ll be there by morning,” Elias told her.

  “Not good enough,” Rune murmured. “It’ll be too late by morning.”

  “This old girl won’t go any faster. And even if she did, it’d still take us a few hours. I’m sorry, Princess.”

  “There’s another way,” the recalcitrant Jeremiah said, speaking for the first time. He looked at none of them, just stared angrily at the floor.

  “Yeah?” Elias asked. “What other way?”

  Jeremiah looked up, glancing once at Rune before putting his stare firmly on Elias. “The bird.”

  Elias frowned. “You joke, and that’s not cool.”

  “No joke,” Jeremiah muttered. “He’ll do it for me.”

  “What bird?” Z asked. “If there’s a bird that can fly her to Flesh, you need to let us know right now.”

  “There’s a bird all right,” Elias said. “But he lost his mind to the witch a long time ago. She set him free because…” He shrugged. “For a few reasons, I reckon. Heard tell he does errands for Flesh now. If he flew you anywhere, it’s not likely it’d be anywhere you wanted to go.”

  “I’ll chance it,” she said, her voice weak.

  “She’s worsening so quickly,” Blue whispered to Z, as though Rune had also lost her hearing.

  But the girl wasn’t wrong.

  “Princess,” Elias said. “This bird. He’s fucked up. You can’t trust him to do anything but hasten your death.”

  “How do we find him?” she asked.

  “Rune,” Z said. “I don’t—”

  “I’ve got no choice, Z.” She smiled, or tried to. “I’ll see you there.”

  He swallowed, then looked at Elias. “Call the bird.”

  Elias sighed. “Jeremiah. Fetch him.”

  Jeremiah stood, then began to undress.

  “The fuck?” Rune asked. “I need a bird, not a peep show.”

  Blue starting humming a few bars of a raunchy tune, and even Elias laughed.

  Jeremiah ignored them all. He finally stood naked before them, his body hard and lean but too skinny, and, unsurprisingly, covered with scars. He gave Elias a sharp nod.

  Elias threw open the door. “Be safe, my friend.”

  Jeremiah leapt from the doorway, and before he was halfway through it he shifted to a large, shaggy, gray wolf.

  And then he was gone, a single mournful howl drifting back to those he left behind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Can the bird fly two?” Rune asked, her voice steady.

  Elias shrugged. “I don’t think so. He’s not well.”

  Rune tightened her grip on Z’s hand. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I know.”

  Splitting up might mean they’d never see each other again.

  Even if she came back—if she could come back—the world of Skyll was a tricky son of a bitch and had no sympathy for despairing lovers.

  “You’ll do what you have to do for our world,” Blue said, drawing a long look from Elias, “and yours.”

  “Even if it destroys you,” Lem said, still not turning to look at them.

  Rune said nothing. She knew.

  She understood she might have to sacrifice herself.

  “This bird doesn’t sound like the cooperative sort,” Blue said. “Does he owe Jeremiah?”

  “Yeah,” Elias said. He didn’t elaborate and Blue didn’t push it.

  No one cared, really.

  Elias leaned over to open a compartment built into the wall. “Hungry?”

  “We could eat,” Blue answered.

  “Do you have water?” Z asked.

  Elias gave him a flask of water, then opened a canvas bag and handed out packets containing jerky and dried fruit.

  Rune shook her head. “I can’t eat.”

  “Would it help you to feed?” Z asked.

  “Maybe for a few minutes. Not worth it.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “The bird will be here soon.”

  Lex had been weak from the rot when Rune had left. Surely she was dead.

  “I failed her,” Rune said.

  “Who, honey?” Z asked.

  “Lex.”

  “She’s okay,” he replied. “She didn’t have crawlers to fight.”

  She didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and listened to the quiet sounds of them eating.

  She dozed.

  She dreamed of the berserker, of his rage, his love.

  His absence.

  The vehicle grinding to a halt startled her awake sometime later. She sat up, her heart beating with a painful quickness against the wall of her battered chest.

  Fear, sharp and laced with dread, coated her tongue.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The bird.” Elias looked at her and his eyes held pity. “You ready?”

  God no.

  “Yeah.”

  Z held her face between his palms. “Be safe.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Elias shoved open the door. “Enemies are close. You’ll need to go now, Princess.”

  Shit.

  “I love you,” Z whispered. “With everything I am.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” she repeated, and struggled to her feet. Her breathing was laborious, her limbs heavy.

  “Princess,” Lem called, when she was almost to the door. Z tightened his fingers around her arm as he helped her walk.

  She looked back, and finally, the driver turned to look at her.

  His face bore two huge scars, crossing from temple to opposite side of his chin like a ghastly x. One of his eyes was milky white. The other, blue and bright, gazed at her steadily. He gave a quick grin. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “It’s what I do.”

  He nodded once, sharply, and turned back around.

  Z hopped out of the car and grasped her around
her waist. “I’ll carry you to your ride. And it won’t hurt to see if he can take us both.”

  But as they rounded the front of the car, they understood quickly the bird could not take them both. It’d be a miracle if he could take her.

  He was huge, but as ragged and torn as an old sweater. His feathers were dull and sparse. Raised, healed scars covered his body. He kept his face turned away from them.

  Even through the haze of pain and sickness, Rune’s heart tightened with sympathy. He’d been through some bad, bad shit.

  She didn’t weigh much, but still. The battered bird was not going to carry her easily. Jeremiah, back in his human form, stood beside the bird.

  “Come,” he said. “Before he changes his mind.”

  She didn’t argue, but turned to Z for a kiss.

  Maybe a last kiss.

  His lips barely touched hers before Elias called from the car. “We have to leave now.” His voice was tight with impatience and something else.

  Fear.

  “Crawlers are close,” Jeremiah said. “Get on him if you’re going.”

  “Wait,” Z said. He took her shoulders. “Bite me. A little blood will help you get where you need to go.”

  She was too tired to argue.

  Z pulled one of his blades and sliced into his bottom lip, and before she knew what he meant to do, he glued his lips to hers.

  She drank his kiss.

  “Princess,” Elias yelled. “Now or he leaves without you.”

  The bird knelt in the road, and without another hesitation, she motioned for Z to help her climb atop him.

  It was time.

  And it felt like the end.

  The end of her time with Z.

  She shook her head, hard, and fell against the bird’s back, her hands tangled in his feathers.

  Z.

  “Soon, sweet thing.”

  The bird rose into the sky, groaning and creaking like the bones of a hundred year old man.

  Rune closed her eyes.

  Z.

  Silently she cursed life, and fate, and sacrifice.

  And love. She cursed love as well.

  The wind caressed her skin, and she allowed a few tears to fall as her heart was once again shattered.

  Her blood seeped into the dry skin of the bird, and he seemed to fly faster.

  Taking her ever onward toward a fate that was, maybe, worse than death.

  Chapter Sixteen

  She realized vaguely that the bird was descending. Seconds later, he slanted his abused body and let her roll off his back.

  She hadn’t the strength to break her fall, but landed with a bone-shattering thump on the hard ground.

  He didn’t drop her and leave, though.

  When she gathered the strength to struggle to her knees and lift her head to look, he was sitting a few yards away, watching her.

  “Flesh?” she croaked.

  He merely watched.

  And she could see the madness in his small, black eyes. He continuously tilted his head with quick movements and darted his eyes, as though keeping watch for danger. Then he would put his disturbing gaze back on her.

  She fought her way to her feet, pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to walk more than a few steps without collapsing, despite the little bit of energy she’d gotten from Z’s blood. It was wearing off quickly as the rot overpowered it.

  And that pissed her off.

  She threw her head back and screamed in rage—or tried to scream. What came out was a hoarse cry. That act threw her off balance and she fell backward and hit the ground. Hard.

  “Son of a bitch, bird. Fucking bird. I broke my ass.”

  That struck her as funny. She began giggling and couldn’t stop, though she hadn’t the breath or energy to laugh.

  The rot was eating her brain.

  Brain in a jar.

  “Shut up,” she whispered.

  The bird’s stare was somehow more curious, as though he waited eagerly for what further entertainment the demented princess would offer him.

  At last, she stood and stumbled to the bird. “Where do I find the Flesh lord? I’m going to need you to shift and…”

  She frowned.

  The bird turned his head, but not before she spotted something close to human shame in his eyes.

  She was good at recognizing shame.

  “Poor little guy,” she murmured. “Poor little guy.”

  He didn’t move.

  She reached out, slowly, carefully, and ran her hand over one of his tattered, filthy wings. Even that small attempt at comforting the bird wore her out. “What happened to you?”

  He seemed to relax slightly under her caress. He released a long, nearly silent whine.

  But there was nothing more she could do.

  She let go of him and looked around, eager to find the Flesh lord and rid herself of the rot wreaking havoc on her body.

  She left the bird and stumbled from the woods into which he’d dropped her, and then stood staring in wonder.

  The Flesh lord’s home was a castle—huge and ancient and imposing. It rose from the grounds like a brick monster, transporting her instantly into the fairytale books of her youth.

  She looked back over her shoulder. The bird had disappeared.

  She limped forward, holding on to whatever tree appeared in her path, expecting at any moment for a few dozen knights to jump out in front of her.

  At the thought, she heard the distant nicker of a horse. A few more steps and she heard the low hum of voices, but couldn’t tell if she were close to them or her sensitive ears were picking up sounds from far away.

  She squinted, trying to see through air that had gone thick and hazy. The world spun lazily, and the ground became soft, deep sponges into which her feet sank.

  “Dammit,” she whispered. She wasn’t going to make it.

  But then the horse she’d heard—actually three of them, atop which sat tall, armored and armed men—ambled toward her.

  “She’s in bad shape,” one of the men said. His voice seemed to bounce off the trees, echoing as though he stood at the opposite end of a tunnel.

  “She should be,” another said. “Let’s take her in.”

  She stood there, weak and barely conscious, as one of the men lifted her into his arms. His chest armor was hard and cold, and she shrank away from it.

  “You’ll be fine, Princess,” he said.

  She blacked out, and when she opened her eyes again she was belly-first over a horse. Dizzy and disoriented, she threw up.

  The next time she woke up she was being carried down a long, wide, echoing hall. It was cold and she shivered uncontrollably, unable to really see anything other than high, ornate ceilings.

  She heard people.

  Women laughing somewhere deep in the castle and the teasing tones of male voices. Puppies yapping hysterically, and even, once, she caught the persuasive tones of a violin.

  Her stomach rumbled at the wafting scents of roasting meats and baking cakes and oh sweet God above, coffee.

  “Coffee,” she mumbled.

  “You’ll get everything you want, Princess,” someone promised.

  “The cure.” I want the fucking cure.

  “Soon,” he said. “Rest now.”

  She started to inform him that she couldn’t rest against the uncomfortable armor, but realized she was lying on a table.

  Her head was resting on a small pillow, and her body was covered. She was missing the long blade Z had given her, and she felt naked without it.

  That could have been because she was naked.

  The air caressed her skin, air that was too cold.

  Too strange.

  The room was dim, the ceiling above too dark for her to see. She turned her head, slowly, and realized her pain was gone.

  She might well have been drugged—she felt only heaviness. She couldn’t move her legs or lift her arms.

  There was no pain. No dizziness.

  She blinked away t
he fuzziness of her vision and as it cleared, she began to realize where she was.

  A lab. She was in a lab.

  A woman appeared suddenly, her face a mass of wrinkles. Her iron gray hair had been pulled back into a severe knot at the back of her head, and her clothes consisted of a worn rust colored robe and a long, black silk scarf wound around her neck.

  She grinned, and her black eyes nearly disappeared in the overlapping lids. She appeared to have no teeth.

  “I’ve healed you,” she said, lifting her chin. “Sleep now. You’ll feel better when you awaken.” She brushed a soft, lined hand over Rune’s face. “Sleep, Princess.”

  Rune slept.

  She dreamed of her monster and witches and wizards.

  And labs and babies and cowboys.

  She dreamed of serial killers and ghouls and berserkers.

  When she woke up she was on a pallet on the throne room floor, and the strange dog, Sorrow, was lying at her side.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Sorrow?” She sat up, her heart beating fast, as though the fear of a forgotten dream lingered.

  The room was cold, vast, and echoing. It was also full of people, gathered by the walls, watching her.

  Or maybe they watched Sorrow.

  Rune looked around, dazed, taking it all in. The details of her arrival at the castle were hazy, but slowly, her mind cleared.

  Someone had dressed her in soft, clean jeans, a plain blue shirt, and boots that fit perfectly. She had no memory of being dressed, but the thought left her with an uneasiness she had no choice but to ignore.

  “How do you feel?”

  She stood, looking from Sorrow, who was lying on her side, panting, to the crowds of people, then finally to the front of the room.

  The man who’d spoken sat upon an elaborate throne. He was dressed in a blue suit that was so out of place she thought she might still be asleep and lost in her dreams.

  He should have been wearing robes and a crown, not a suit and shiny black shoes.

  “That’s fucked up,” she mumbled.

  He rose and descended the short steps of the dais which held aloft his throne, his smile wide and white in the darkness of his face.

  Sorrow gave a tortured, almost human cry, and Rune glanced away from the approaching man to see what ailed the dog.

  “Sorrow is ill,” the shimmer lord said, as he reached her side. “She has never entered this or any castle, but she has come here to…” He hesitated before continuing. “To die. Because you are here. She has come to be with you in her last moments of life.”