Page 20 of Memories Like Fangs
“Something, or someone, is blocking me.”
“Blocking you?” Simone’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I can always sense Byrd. It’s how I can teleport to her, honestly, to anyone I want that I have already met and have a lock onto their energies, no matter the distance. I feel those I love the strongest, and I can tug on that connection to find them. But, when I just tried to feel out for Byrd, it’s like I get close and then a wall comes up. I can’t see beyond it. The magic of itfeels… familiar, almost. But, I can’t pinpoint it exactly,” Maisie explained.
Soon, everyone else devolved into asking Maisie more questions and wondering out loud what to do next. I stood from where I had sat in front of the tree. Clarkson uncurled from under me and stood on her two legs, begging to be held. Her whine was high-pitched and drawn-out, unlike anything I had ever heard her do before. I picked her up. She rubbed her round head under my chin, crying out and starting to shiver. I knew the cold had nothing to do with it. I rubbed her floppy ears while showering her with kisses to soothe her.
“We’re going to find Mama, Clarkson. I promise,” I whispered against her curly fur. “Until then, I know she’s?—”
Then, I realized something. It hit me hard and bathed me in a deep chill that made my teeth chatter.
I was so used to knowing how Byrd felt at all times. It had been over two weeks since we had completed the mating bond, and I was so used to it that I relied on it. Now, however, I felt… incomplete. It was like the rubber band that had been pulled taut was now loose and gaping. No one was on the other side. I reached out to Byrd, seeking her through our bond. I expected to feel her emotions on the other side, some undercurrent of fear, pain, sadness, but all with some sliver of hope. I was sure I would sense that. Instead, there was nothing there. When I tried to push reassurance to her, it landed into a void of nothing. It was like a dropped call. No one picked up and there was no busy tone. The call simply failed.
Clarkson whined even louder, building into a growl as if she sensed it.
“M-my bond…” I interrupted everyone without any preamble or ceremony. My heart sank. I clung to Clarkson to keep from throwing more fists into more trees to… I didn’t even know why I wanted to do it at this point. To not think that my worst possiblenightmare was coming true? To not focus on the fact that not only had I lost my mate, but our bond was… I didn’t know what happened. I had never been so enraged and confused in my life.
“I can’t feel my and Byrd’s mating bond. I can’t feel it… at all.”
Everyone fucking lost their minds, bombarding me with questions out the wazoo.
I didn’t hear a word of it.
The only thing I could think about endlessly on repeat was:
Byrdie, mi tesoro, where did you go?
Caged
BRYD
Blood, my blood, waseverywhere.
I could taste it, coppery and tangy on my tongue. The smell was so overwhelming that I had to cough, even though it did nothing to escape the scent and made pain echo through my body. My thoughts struggled to swim through the blood rushing loudly in my ears alongside my pounding heart. I blinked through the blood on my eyelashes that had dried and crusted them together to fully open my eyes and look around to figure out where I was.
It was dark, making me grateful for my supernatural vision. The space was made entirely of masonry. Thick blocks of stone rose high to form an arched ceiling above, the edges worn and uneven with age. Water trickled faintly somewhere in the distance, echoing with a slow, rhythmic drip that somehow worsened my loneliness. There were no windows and no light source to the outside to know what time it was or where I could be. There was no sound of traffic or voices beyond or above me. Still, there was a distinct draft, a chill that settled in my bones.
I was underground. A cellar, maybe?
Turning behind me, I caught a glimpse of dusty wooden cabinets built into the wall with a display of wine bottles nestledwithin. As I returned to face forward, I noted that my chair didn’t move when I shifted. It was definitely bolted to the floor with no chance of tipping or trying those tricks I had seen in YouTube tutorials where someone used their bodyweight to fall over and break a leg off or something. In front of me stood a long, wide wooden table that was scarred, ancient, and stained from more than just spilled wine. Heavy and incredibly reinforced, there was a door on the far end of the room. It was the kind of door meant to keep things out.
Or, in.
Where was I?
How had I gotten here?
What had happened to me?
The last thing I remembered was Quinn. She held and reassured me after my mom’s remains were sent to my condo. Hope blossomed in my heart at things looking up. Things were getting better. I even allowed myself to think that thingswerebetter.
Then, there was pain.
So much pain.
I was pulled away from Quinn.
I wasrippedfrom her.
