Page 103 of Drawn in Blood
“Thank you,”Rowan signed in reply, and Ember’s jaw hung slack.
“You know sign language?”
Rowan nodded her head, a far off look in her eyes. “My brother was deaf. I learned sign language before I could read.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, the memory, no doubt, tainted by the grief that surrounded her.
Theo squeezed Ember’s hand.
I’m here.
“So, if we do this together,” Ember replied, steeling herself against the weight of the moment between them, “and that is abigif, where do we start? While we try to figure out how to free the children, what are we supposed to do?”
Rowan let out a sigh as she bit her lip. “We pretend that they’ve won.”
Chapter 33
One Shot
Killian pulled his shirt over his head, keeping his eyes from lingering on the bruise blooming on his collar and across his ribs. The cuts from the daggers were healing nicely, but the one on his right pectoral was deep. It would likely scar.
What’s one more?
Working with his uncle—in any capacity—was not for the faint of heart. He liked to believe he could handle more than most. He had a high threshold for pain, and he healed quickly, but what his uncle was making him do, the people he was pitting him against, he sometimes wondered if it was more than he could handle.
He shook the thought away as he pulled on a coat, sticking the small earring box in his pocket. It was for Ember, all of it. Every cut and bruise, every terrifying job and near-death experience, it was all for her. He would reach his bare hands into a live fire and grab hot coals to swallow them if she needed him to.
Killian strolled out of his house to the Echopoint by the gate, and in another heartbeat, he was walking up the drive to Fen’s front door. He let himself in, kicking his shoes off by the door.Osiris was in the den, a map spread across the coffee table as he jotted something in a notebook. He still hadn’t gone back to Iceland, and thankfully, he hadn’t said anything to Fen about his little trip with Ember. He didn’t so much as glance at Killian as he walked through the foyer. Eira popped her head out of the kitchen, likely hearing the door open, and smiled.
“Hello, love,” she said sweetly, the smile not quite reaching her eyes, “staying for dinner?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Killian replied, walking across the room to give her a hug. His own mother had never been very affectionate, Magnus Vargr wouldn’t allow it. He believed that emotion was weakness, and weakness was a cardinal sin in the Vargr household. His heart ached when he allowed himself to think about the childhood he could’ve had if he had a mum like Eira.
“Fen is in his room, hasn’t left all day,” she said, as she pointed toward the stairs, and then she slipped back into the kitchen, busying herself with anything to keep her mind off her current reality. Killian tapped his fingers against his thigh—Maeve was still missing, and it was eating the entire family alive.
Killian climbed the stairs to the second floor, each step feeling heavy and forced. He hadn’t slept much in weeks, and the way his uncle was working him in his wolf form was not doing good things for his human muscles. Every strained muscle, every broken bone reset, every puncture wound, it all stuck around when it turned human again, and it was wearing on him.
Fen's door was closed, and all he heard on the other side was the furious clicking of his keyboard. Killian didn’t bother to knock as he walked in, quickly closing the door behind him.
“Figure it out yet?” he asked Fen, as he flopped on the bed, crossing his legs at his ankles as he put his hands behind his head. Fen was going back and forth between his phone and his computer and barely seemed to register that Killian had even walked in.
“Oi!” Killian called, and Fen startled, turning around and wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Did you bring up a snack?” Fen asked, as he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it further.
“A snack?” Killian almost laughed. “It’s barely half past twelve. Have you not had lunch?”
Fen rolled his eyes. “Of course I ate lunch, but that was an hour ago.” He pointed at the computer behind him. “I need brain food.”
Killian barked a laugh. “That would actually require a brain to feed.” He barely dodged a jinx fired at him—Fen’s aim really needed work.
“I think I’ve just about got it figured out.” Fen cleaned his glasses on his shirt and pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. “I just can’t get the spell quite right. It won’t connect properly. Did you bring the earring?”
Killian nodded, fishing the box out of his pocket, and tossing it to his friend. Most Vala boys had at least one ear pierced by the time they were ten, so he snagged one that Leif had left lying around. Killian didn’t wear one anymore, but he could put an earring on in a pinch if he needed to. Fen caught the box, quickly pulling out the small piece of jewelry, and laid it on the table by his phone.
“How did you do this on your own anyway?” Fen asked, as he inspected the earring. It was like the ones he had given Ember, charmed to play music and books that he downloaded on his phone, a spell connecting them. Killian shrugged his shoulders as he grinned.
“I’ll carry that secret to my grave,” he replied. Fen narrowed his eyes at his friend but ultimately ignored him. Killian stared at the ceiling for a long time while Fen mumbled incantations under his breath, pressing buttons repeatedly on his phone. He tried not to think about her if he didn’t have to, tried not toimagine what she was going through in that hidden city—how scared she must be.
No, if he knew anything about Ember, she had surpassed scared a long time ago. He would bet all his inheritance that she was seething mad now, mowing down anyone who stood in her way. Gods help the man who chose to step in front of the meteor that was Ember Lothbrok. She would turn them to dust without thinking.
