Page 82 of Destined for Dreams
The water wasn’t all that tasty, high in iron and salt, but a few tiny swallows gave him the strength he needed to keep moving. He tried climbing higher up the wall to see if the source of the trickle might come from an opening of some sort. The cavern turned out to be higher than expected. He made it a few feet up, clumsily grabbing anything he could find in the darkness when he lost his footing. Bartol sailed down and slammed down onto his back. Intense pain radiated across his skin, far beyond the sort of discomfort he normally would have felt.
“Caius,” he wheezed.
Footsteps shuffled over. “I’m here.”
“Help me up.”
The nephilim took hold of Bartol’s shoulders, gently pulling him up. In a spot near his spine, Caius’ fingers felt as if they were digging into cut or torn skin. It couldn’t have been a fresh wound from the fall. That area had been aching before, but he’d been ignoring it since he woke up. Only now did the pain stand out more.
“Check my back,” he said, lifting his shirt as far as he could manage. “I think something is there.”
Caius ran his hand across the skin, grazing his fingertips higher toward his shoulder blades. Bartol winced. By touch alone, he could tell the skin was jagged and raised. The demon had done something to him.
“You’ve been marked with a symbol that’s been carved deep into your skin,” Caius said, then cursed under his breath. “I fear I may have the same thing. Check my back.”
Bartol took a deep breath and slowly turned around. The other nephilim crouched just in front of him. He ran his fingers along Caius’ spine, finding the same jagged skin in a pattern just like Haagenti’s symbol. It dawned on him then what had happened to them.
“He’s been leaching all of our powers from us. It’s why he kept us alive,” Bartol said.
Caius moved away, scuffling his feet as he sat down. “He must be doing something bigger than ever if he needs to steal our strength.”
“But that doesn’t tell us what he’s done with Tormod.” And that worried Bartol even more. The nerou hybrid could become a powerful sacrifice, or perhaps his demon blood might be the gateway to corrupt him. He was young and more easy to influence. There were infinite reasons for why Haagenti might have kept him.
“No, it doesn’t,” Caius agreed. “But first we must escape this place before we can do anything to help him.”
Bartol hated knowing his charge was out there, having who knew what done to him. And to what end? He recalled the demon’s timeline, no longer certain where they might be along it. “Germany was only days away from the attack deadline when we reached Prague.”
Caius cursed. “If I had to guess, it might have already occurred—or else we wouldn’t have woken up.”
“There’s a strong possibility the demon could return at any time to either use us again or kill us.” They could not allow that to continue. “We must remove these marks.”
“It’s going to be painful,” Caius warned.
Excruciating, in fact. They’d have to peel multiple layers of skin to get rid of the symbol.
“Do it for me first,” Bartol ordered. “We can use some loose rocks by the entrance that have sharp edges.”
“Are you certain?” Caius asked. “You’re going to be in a lot of pain when it’s your turn to remove mine.”
“You can thank Kerbasi later for flaying my skin countless times over nearly a century. I assure you, this is something I can handle better than anyone,” Bartol said, yanking his shirt off in one determined stroke.
He would have thought going through something painful again would bring on the nightmares from Purgatory, but it didn’t. Instead, all he could think of was getting out of the cave. Haagenti had Tormod. They needed to escape and find the nerou before it was too late—if it wasn’t already.
“Very well,” Caius said, shuffling away to search for a rock shard.
None would be as perfect as a blade, but some were thin and sharp enough to be the next best thing under the circumstances. Bartol waited, preparing himself by searching for the secret place inside where pain had little effect. Only someone who had suffered physical abuse many times learned to find it. For him, it was a happy place where he could relive his time with his mother before she passed away. He’d only been six years old, but he’d never allowed her beautiful face to fade from his mind. To this day, he could recall her holding him and singing sweet songs. He’d had it better than most nephilim during his early years. Bartol had been loved, and he’d never forgotten it.
Caius began cutting into his skin. He concentrated on keeping his breathing even as he fought his way back to his happy place. For a moment, his mother’s visage shimmered in his mind, but then Cori’s took her place. Bartol didn’t mean for it to happen. Yet he sunk into the vision happily as his mate moved about his kitchen, merrily cooking something for them to eat. In all his life, he’d never seen a woman who enjoyed preparing meals as much as his mate. It never ceased to amaze him, considering she didn’t fit the stereotype for a cook at all. She wasn’t soft or delicate, didn’t wear dresses, and she worked a job dominated by men. Despite her tough exterior, she didn’t balk at cooking or baking at all. Thoughts of Cori kept the pain at bay so well that Bartol was surprised when Caius stopped stripping away his skin.
“I’m done.”
He shuddered. The pain returned in full force as soon as Cori’s face faded from his mind. He gasped in a breath, let it out, and took in another. This was the hardest part, shifting between his safe harbor and the real world. After a minute or two, Bartol managed to push the agony down to a more bearable level. Blood still ran down his back, and he’d yet to begin healing, but at least he could handle what pain was left.
“How long did it take?” he asked.
Caius grunted. “Longer than I would have liked without any light to guide me. Did you feel any of it?”
“Not until you finished, but I have learned how to separate my mind and body when necessary.” He took the jagged rock piece Caius handed him. “Are you ready?”
