Page 98 of Mated Exile

The scream keeps going.

Until strong arms pick me up, and a voice says, choked and frightened, "It's going to be okay." Roarke has somehow grown inches across and up in the past two summers, and he pulls me up in his arms, damn him, but I'm in too much pain to care how embarrassing it is. "Whatever is going on, we'll fix it. Right, sir?"

For a moment the pain subsides, but I sense it's just a breath between spasms. Sweat slicks my brow and mingles with the blood. Sliding my eyes open, I look into William's face.

He looks thoughtful, but not surprised. Something that will haunt me in the years to come. In a low voice, he tells Roarke, "I don't know, boy." Then he looks to me. "I'm sorry, son. I thought that Tara was strong enough."

I won't understand his words. Soon they won't matter anyway. The pain will overtake me, and the drugs they'll pump into the IV in my arm will wipe away most of my thoughts and cares, along with a good portion of today's memories, at least from my conscious mind. It'll be a blessing, until the nightmares bring it back, and only one thing shows up to wipe them away.

The pain stretches on, long and lonely. One person stays at my side through it all, the same person who bent down to pick me up from a pool of blood and held my spasming body against his chest. Roarke will try to fix me a dozen different ways, and when one of the ways he tries breaks me further, he'll break himself to put the pieces back together.

It doesn't matter. The rot will spread anyway. I opened my soul, and now only darkness occupies the space where a piece of me should reside.

I breathe in. Then out.

A second passed, maybe two at the most. My throat should feel raw from all that screaming, but it all happened inside my head. Blinking, I slowly separate myself from the memories—Kieran'smemories—and draw back into my own mind instead.

I am Delilah Glass. My father did a terrible thing, and it wasn't the first or the last terrible thing he did. I don't understand him, but I know I need to fix him.

Between one breath and the next I'm back in my body.

The pain is overwhelming. Demetri's fingers have carved my insides with their claws. So I grab onto the beating pulse of the land's heart around me. I can feel it suddenly, and realize with a start of fear that my feet are on the Mating Circle's ground.

If I'm here, then the vampires are as well, just behind me. I can feel them. In a heartbeat or two they'll be in this sacred place, and they'll use me as a conduit to all its power and magic, to destroy my people and take our sacred land.

I won't let them. Drawing the earth's energies up to me, I call to everything the land, sky, water, and wind will give me. It should be difficult, but it's easy—especially because a familiar face is standing opposite me in the circle.

Vivia is awake. Her spirit is strong and splashed with color now instead of the silver-white she was before. With a nod of approval towards me, she steps across the circle in an instant, puts her hands over mine, and shows me what to do.

We wake the land and the water. Shake the trees and stir the air. And, with a single inhaled breath, draw its strength into my body so my wound is healed and the cursed black rot is pushed from my depths.

Then I turn on Demetri, stare him full in the face with my own eyes, and tell him, "Get the fuck out, asshole. You're not welcome at this establishment anymore."

Forty-One

Delilah

With a gesture, Ipushat him, and all the other vampires. The trees begin to groan, and the wind whips forward. Water is drawn from the earth and air, enough to form a whip that smacks against Demetri and half his horde. It jerks them off their feet and sends them careening through the air.

His eyes widen. As he's dragged back, he yells, "It's not possible! Your soul is corrupted—she said you wouldn't be able to."

I tighten my fist, stopping the whip enough that Demetri hovers in the air. The other half of his horde is already being pushed off their feet by rippling waves in the earth. But this I want to hear.

"What are you talking about? Who is 'she'?" Stalking towards him, I look up into his pale face and frown. "Your quorum? Or someone else?"

Ambrosia, also suspended in the whip, drawls, "I always knew your mouth would be the death of you."

Demetri parts his lips to say something, probably an annoying and witty quip—then goes pale, something I thought wasn't possible. What little blood remains in his body drains from his face. His whole body slackens.

Then the strangest thing happens. He turns his head, jerks it to the side, and somehowbreakshis own neck.

A second later he's dead, his entire body turning into ash, which mingles in the water of my whip. Feeling my control over its element slip, I frown at Ambrosia. "We'll have this talk later. Once you're safelyoffmy lands, you'll explain yourselves to me."

"No thanks."

Waving my hand, I throw them all across the border. The wind and water pushes them north, while below, the other half of the horde is jerked in the same direction by the plants and earth. The grass throws their bodies in the air, and trees jerk their roots up out of the ground to catch them, then throw them as well. On and on it goes, until they're thrown out of our borders completely.

Then I turn back to Vivia. She raises her hands, and in a clear, high voice, tells me, "You have another task to take care of."

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