Page 43 of Born of Blood and Thorns

When my eyes met Lore's again, rage roared through me like an inferno. He looked upon me with bitter disappointment as if I had somehow become less in his eyes by sparing him. That look shattered the last fragile thread of sanity I clung to.

With a feral scream, I snatched up the sword and swung it wildly, chopping it into the nearest antique chair. I hacked viciously at the old furnishings, consumed by a crazed fury. With each splintering blow, I gave voice to a lifetime of pain and helplessness.

I heard the roar of Lore in my ears. Strong hands wrenched the sword away, forcing me to face blazing blue eyes alight with horror.

"You have no idea what you've done," Lore choked out. He opened his mouth as if to explain, then snapped it shut, slowly shaking his head. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow. "You cannot see as I do. Now, you will."

Lore spoke strange, archaic words that raised the hairs on my nape. His hands waving over me, pressure built in my skull, and I squeezed my eyes shut against it. When I forced them open again, I wished I hadn't.

Blood was everywhere. It drenched me, the coppery tang cloying in my nose and mouth. Bodies lay strewn around the once-grand ballroom, flesh rent and spilling crimson. Frozen faces were twisted in agony, eternally trapped in their final moments. With dawning revulsion, I realized these were the cursed people of the castle, suspended helplessly in time. And I had butchered one of them.

There were so many pieces of flesh and bone, and it was hard to tell which had been from me. Where the sword had cleaved pieces of wood laid what appeared to be an elderly man dressed in fine clothing now stained in blood. His face didn't appear to be wrenched in pain or agony, but as if it were frozen in time, still in his last moment. A pleasant smile stretched across his lips because he was unaware of the death that had been dealt him. Death by my hand.

I fell to my knees and retched, sobbing. When I could take no more, I fled blindly down the halls, unable to face the gruesome horrors I had unwittingly unleashed. What had I done?

CHAPTER 20

Bella

Weeks passed, and I stayed away from Lore. The veil he had lifted from my eyes showed me the truth of what had been hidden in magic. Yet, the next day, I saw only furniture again, but the images didn't leave me when I closed my eyes. I saw them as I walked the castle grounds, searching once again for a way out. I realized now that no matter how much I said I was going to kill Lore, I couldn't.

If it hadn't been for Alysha, Billy, and Alastair, I'd have gone mad as the time passed with little changes from day to day. Billy would join me on my walks in the morning as I tested different areas of the wall. I finally got into the guard tower, where I found myself face to face with a huge and sharp thorn. The doors remained glued together. Nothing happened when I used a weapon, such as an ax. No chips in the wood, not a change.

Apparently, the only destruction was caused by the enchanted objects within the castle.

"You're holding the ax wrong. Not that it will change anything on the door," Alastair's deep voice noted from behind me. "I have a better idea for you and that ax."

I stopped my swing to stare at him. "What?" I asked, hoping he had a better way to break down the door. "Alastair, I need to understand what happened."

"We need wood." He shrugged, ignoring my last words. His eyes crinkled up at the sides as he smiled warmly.

"Why did zombies attack?" I asked again. "Why are there people stuck as furniture?" I asked, planting my feet in the dirt. "I need answers."

"I assume Nyx is getting restless that the curse hasn't consumed Lore yet." Alastair swung the axe from hand to hand as if this was a typical day, answering with a simple solution. "It's been a while, but sometimes she likes to send zombies during Lore's one night off as a dragon to remind him of who cursed him." He paused, testing the weight of the axe as his eyes met mine, and a somberness darkened them, "She doesn't, for one second, want him not to know even an ounce of suffering. Maybe she senses there is a change." He shrugged. "Would you mind helping me out? I seem to have misplaced my other ax."

I knew from the look on his face of a stern, unyielding wall he would say no more.

I wanted to snort and say that was highly unlikely, but I felt the need for company if I was honest with myself. I had long since tired of staring into the empty spaces, waiting for Lore to appear, yet not having the guts to go to the library to find him.

The shame and guilt of chopping a person to pieces in front of him still haunted my every waking and sleeping moment. The screams of the dead pulled me from my sleep in a cold sweat some nights. The other nights, I was haunted by my father's sharp hand and harsh words.

Soon, we stood near a stump where several logs lay ready to be split as wood. I debated how the wood could be here when all the trees were so far away past the wall, but I remembered what Alysha said—every day, the day started over. The land was replenished and replaced with what was needed.

I followed Alastair and picked up the axes. He placed the wood down, ready to be split.

I lost myself in the motion and the task as my mind calmed. Soon, the motion of the ax began to echo in my mind. With every hit, I saw the horrific scene again—only this time, I was hacking away at the person—the man who had seen his end.

Anger surged through me, and I hit the wood harder and faster as flashes of the scene ripped through my mind. My breaths became heavier, and my heart was pounding so hard I was sure it would pound right out of my chest.

They had kept this from me, kept me in the dark, and, as a result, I now had blood on my hands.

With a scream, I dropped the ax as it connected with the wood and fell to my knees, sobbing into my hands.

Alastair stood silently watching for a long moment before he sighed and stepped forward, dropping a comforting hand onto my shoulder. "I know you must blame us, and you have a right to. This place, the curse… there are things we are bound to that we cannot do or say."

"I need to know more about the curse." I sniffled and then wiped my eyes as I took deep gulping breaths to slow my pounding heart and the way it ached at the pain I'd unknowingly caused. It was another reason I knew I was never meant to be a vampire. The idea of taking a life and living off the pain of another sickened me. I'd live and die as a mortal with the sun on my face daily. Now I had blood on my hands. Innocent blood.

The irony was the fact I thought I could kill Lore. How I'd planned it when I was looking for a reason to vilify him and justify a reason to. Yet, I couldn't. I felt the sobs threaten to erupt once again, and I swallowed them down, rose, and dusted off my legs.

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