Page 19 of The Vampire King's War

WYVERN

Earlier…

Fiona felt the air thicken and the temperature drop even further before the ghosts stopped streaming towards the Well of All Souls. It was as if time stopped. She blinked and the souls were pouring upwards. They reared up like a tidal wave around the well itself. And they hung there before they crested and flooded outwards towards Caemorn, Balthazar and herself.

“Balthazar!” She gasped and reached for his shoulder--ready to teleport them out of the way--but he wasn’t there.

Her head jerked towards where the other Vampire should have been, but instead of standing beside her, Balthazar had collapsed to the ground. Her mouth opened in an “O” of horror and surprise. What had happened? Had he been given his Second Death? Had his soul been sucked out of his body?

She glanced up. The souls were flying towards them. Mouths opened in howls of rage. Eyes black pits that showed a fierce and terrible glee. Fingers outstretched like claws ready to rip them apart.

There was only one thing she could do to help Balthazar and herself. She dropped to her knees and put her hands on Balthazar’s chest. Just as she felt the cold, clammy fingertips of the nearest ghosts touch her knee, she teleported them away from this place.

They landed only about five hundred feet from the Well of All Souls, a small opening in the midst of the trees that she had noticed on their walk to this place. They were out of sight of the ghosts. If the ghosts actually needed to see them to find them.

She turned Balthazar over onto his back. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted. He looked asleep. His eyeballs moved underneath his closed lids as if he were in REM sleep. She slapped his cheeks, at first lightly and then harder.

“Balthazar! Balthazar!” she hissed frantically. “You’ve got to wake up! Damnit! You’ve got to wake up! Christian is in trouble!”

She looked towards the Well of All Souls and it looked to be a wash of white. The souls were so close together that she couldn’t see the well or the trees or anything. She certainly didn’t see Christian who had sunk down into the rush of spirits and she didn’t see Caemorn either.

“Balthazar, goddamn you! Wake up!” she cried.

But Balthazar’s head just lolled from side to side with cheeks reddening with every slap, but not consciousness opening his eyes or lighting his lips. He was well and truly unconscious. He couldn’t help her. He was down for the count.

Fiona struggled to her feet. Her right knee, which the ghosts had touched, felt like it had a dead spot in the center. She fiercely rubbed her hand over it and sensation started to come back almost immediately. It tingled painfully as it came back to life.

That was just one touch. What’s happened to Christian and Caemorn who are in the middle of all of this?

She had to get them away from the ghosts. If she went to get help now, it might be too late for them. No, she would have to teleport in and out so fast that the ghosts wouldn’t even know she was there before she wrenched them out of harm’s way.

This will take pinpoint teleporting, she thought and drew in a deep breath and narrowed her eyes.

She could do this.

She pictured in her head exactly where she’d seen Christian sink down into the “mist” of ghosts. She could picture the edge of the well. The way the stone was cracked and smoothed down almost as if the passage of the spirits had worn it down like water does to mountains. She imagined how many spans of her own hands it was between Christian and the stone lip. Two. She could almost feel Christian’s body underneath her hands.

I’ve got you.

She teleported and her hands closed around slender shoulders that were so cold they nearly froze her palms. She gasped and released Christian. She let out a cry of despair as she couldn’t see an inch in front of her face. She blindly reached out for Christian. She thought she was reaching for where his shoulders had been but her hands encountered nothing but empty air.

“Christian?! Where are you? Reach back to me!” Fiona gasped. Her teeth were chattering so badly that these sentences came out as chopped syllables and were likely unintelligible.

She dropped down onto her haunches and put her hands on the ground and inched forward towards where she knew Christian ought to be. He likely had collapsed on his side after she’d let go of him. Why had she let go?

Damnit! I will not let Christian die!

Her fingers were completely numb. She only knew that they were still on the ground and moving because she was leaning forward and resting her weight upon them as she continued to crab-crawl towards Christian.

“Christian!” Her teeth chattered like castanets. “Christian? Where are you? Answer me!”

The deadening cold stretched from her fingertips to her elbows now. It felt like her forearms might just snap off at the joint. That cold kept moving up and up. She imagined what it would feel like touching her head. Her mind.

I should leave here.

It’s not safe.

I can’t do anything to help anyone.

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