Page 50 of Blue Embers
“Persephone?” Killian said, his voice losing its control.
I was again prevented from speaking as a headache coursed through my head. I winced, nearly dropping the phone. It was like someone had stabbed me with a rod that went right through my skull, but the rod had exploded into splinters that poked at every part of my brain.
I pressed my other fist to my forehead with the knife still in my hand, stumbling backwards. I wanted to run, but something in me was keeping my muscles from working, no matter how much I shouted at them.
“The child,”the woman said, her voice abnormal in tone. She had a whisper to her. A hiss that made her even more menacing than she already appeared. Two voices were coming out of her mouth, making a sound that chilled me to my bones. “Where is it?”
Killian wasn’t talking now, but I knew he was there. He was listening, just as I was listening, trying to figure out who the hell this woman was. All I knew at that point was that she was the one who smelled of burning herbs. She towered over me, both in strength and height, but still I couldn’t understandwhatshe was. She was ruthless and she’d just torn all of my memories from my head like she was pulling weeds from a garden, but she was nothing like the witches from the stories. Not in the least. She couldn’t be a Zephyre.
The woman reached out, wrapping her solid grip around my throat. As she lifted me off the ground, I dropped the phone and the knife to brace both hands against her wrist, struggling to break free. Air had been cut off now and I was starting to feel the pressure in my eyes as she squeezed. She tilted her head again at me, studying me. My thoughts. My past. Everything. They all flashed through my head in clusters of memories. I felt like a skinned animal, my insides splayed out for her to poke at.
Bringing me toward her, the woman sucked in a breath close to my face, taking my scent. I screamed inside, willing my body to do something. I tried to kick her and before I made contact, she spun me toward the wall right beside Ben. She slammed me up against it, her nostrils flaring with obvious frustration.
“Where is the child?” she asked, peeling back her lips to reveal sharpened eye teeth, just like Draak had.
“I don’t...know,” I choked out.
“Doesheknow?” she gestured toward the dropped phone, seemingly unworried about the Draak on the other end.
“I don’t…” I said, unable to finish.
The woman looked irritated, her lips pressed tightly together now. Her brows sunk low over her black eyes.
“Someone knows,” she said. “We will see.”
21
Killian
. . .
I was already halfway to the museum when Persephone had called. I had a feeling she’d gone there for some reason. Now I was speeding to close that last bit of distance, the sound of her struggles and distress bleeding from the phone. While on the line, I’d messaged Malice to meet me there, making sure to sound urgent.
The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, the early hour making the roads clear for me to drive down them faster than I ever had. In fact, it seemed like more than that. There was no one on the roads. They were eerily empty, which was just more confirmation that something was not right in the whole city.
I knew exactly who I was dealing with. I could sense it. I knew it was Haera. The bitch herself had finally come out of hiding. Speaking through the phone would make no difference, so I stayed silent, looking for clues and characteristics in Haera’s voice as she spoke to Persephone. After failing to get the answers she wanted, though, I heard a loud crash, a scream, and suddenly the phone broke into silence.
Enraged, I threw my cell onto the passenger seat and floored it, coming up on the museum a few minutes later, but those minutes felt like days. Persephone’s car was out front. I pulled up beside it and rushed toward the front doors to the building. I didn’t care to wait for Malice. Instead, I went in alone, knowing full well that if it really was a full-blooded Zephyre inside, I had no real means to combat her.
Crashing into the exhibit hall, the smell of blood was sharp in the air. I quickly scanned the room, walking cautiously deeper into the chamber to see red stains across the floor leading to Benjamin’s motionless, hanging body. I couldn’t hear a pulse. The man was dead and while my heart sank for him, all I could think of was Persephone. Just then, her scent slipped into my awareness, but it was covered in the smell of her blood.
I walked further in, ignoring the possible dangers now, and found a cell phone with a shattered screen lying at my feet. I passed it, making my way toward a mess of glass further in. Shards crunched underfoot as I searched the area. Quickly, I spotted another trail of red smeared across the marble floors.
I followed the trail quickly around another statue and there she was, lying on the floor, her white shirt turned half red with blood. I strode quickly forward, sinking to my knees beside her. Barely awake, she looked at me, tears running down the sides of her face. In one hand she held my knife, which was covered in her own blood. In her side was a deep, seeping wound.
“Persephone,” I said, brushing blood dampened hair away from her face. She bit her teeth, choking up a small cough of red droplets that splattered onto her lips. “Persephone, stay with me.”
Looking down again, I noticed there was another stab wound on her other side, down near her hip. Persephone’s body tightened, her fist squeezing the hilt of my knife as she raised it slowly up.
“No,” I barked, quickly tearing the weapon from her grip.
The realization hit me like a spear to my chest. I could feel the terror in her like a poison. A fear that she was going to die and it was growing with each second.
“She...made me,” Persephone coughed, more blood leaking from the corner of her mouth.
I lifted her up into my arms as she fought for air, suddenly feeling a twinge scrape across my mind as someone or something penetrated my thoughts. I fought it as hard as I could, but I was no Ash Bringer. Ultimately, the Zephyre had the upper hand, but when she found my thoughts empty of what she really wanted to know, her anger bled through me like sand.
My eyes shot up, scanning the room for the red witch, but she wasn’t visible to me. When I felt Persephone’s head roll back over my forearm, I looked down at her with concern, my breath frozen in my lungs.
