Page 87 of Wicked Thieves
If it had been a Watchman, he would have demanded to know what she was doing here. Drawn his sword to attack her. But if not a Watchman, then who else was here? And what sort of madness had led them to killing a Watchman in such a vicious manner?
Stretching her power forward, she attempted to sense that lone heartbeat. It was there, only it was faint. Hollow and distant. No light emanating from its pulsing sound, save for an inky black tendril.
She had never heard a heart such as this one before.
When the figure had yet to appear, she stepped into the light where snowflakes gradually fell around her. She waited—listened—then it was there.
A voice muttering in the dark.
Anelize’s heart pounded in her chest. Fear becoming her sole companion.
“Hello?” she breathed into the dark.
The muttering stopped, like a thread snapping. There and gone. The sound of footsteps running to the right of the tunnel made her turn with a gasp, only to find there was nothing.
Every instinct told her to run, escape this place. Only she could not will herself to move, save for slowly turning in a circle within the light. Eyeing every opening in the earth, straining to see if there was someone here in the chamber with her. When a grating chuckle sounded closer, this time behindher, Anelize’s eyes widened as she felt the eyes of someone watching her once again.
She turned to see a young man standing on the edge of the light, his hair matted to his head which hung low. He wore tattered clothes and his feet were bare. Skin pale—almost blue—as he lingered in the shadows. It was difficult to see his face, but his eyes were so dark they appeared black as they lifted to watch Anelize.
When he finally lifted his face, a gasp slipped past her lips.
“W-Wellyn?”
The Dobrin boy flinched at the sound of his name. His head tilting to one side curiously, the movement purely animalistic. He was alive.
“Wellyn….” he repeated, his voice a hollow sound around her. “I am Wellyn.”
Anelize licked her dried lips nervously. “Yes. You are. Do you know who I am? It’s me, Anya.”
Wellyn’s bare feet padded around the light, circling her.
“Anya…” It was highly possible that he’d lost all sense of himself being down here for however long they’d left him to wither away, delirious from the cold or the labyrinth they found themselves in. His voice was low as he murmured, “I wish to be safe. Will you help me?”
Unsettled, she forced herself to nod. “Yes. I can.”
“Help me…” Wellyn stopped walking, turned to face her and stepped into the light. Revealing black inky veins that ran down his legs wherever she saw skin through his torn clothes. It was a ghastly sight, and suddenly the scent of rot filled her nose. When she opened her mouth to speak, she saw blackened teeth beyond cracked lips. Just as the Moroi had looked. Wellyn’s voice grew louder, more desperate as he said again and again, banging a fist over his chest and sinking his nails into his flesh. “Help me, help me, help me!”
Before Anelize could try to calm him, Wellyn lunged, shrieking as he ran toward her. She screamed as Wellyn knocked her to the ground. The air rushed through her lungs as pain lanced through her.
“Wellyn, stop!” she yelled as he crawled on top of her and pounced, his hands disfigured from the cold as he reached for Anelize’s face. She shielded herself with her arms, holding them up and bracing them against his shoulders. His skin felt paper-thin against her palms, but he was stronger than he looked even in his fragile state.
He continued shrieking like a wild animal, so loud her ears rang out in protest. Her pleas going wholly ignored by him. His intent to harm her the only thing that seemed to matter.
Anelize’s arms shook beneath the weight as his hands flailed, slashed her cheek with a sharp nail. He barely gave her the chance to conjure and stop him. His teeth clacked together as he pushed his head between her arms, bulging eyes staring wild and hungry as something hot and wet dripped onto her cheek. A black viscous liquid poured from his eyes, like tears. Then she realized, breath stalling in her throat, that they were. Black tears that streamed from his nearly sunken eyes.
Through his desperate, fear-curdling grunts and shrieks, Anelize could have sworn she’d heard him sobbing, his voice calling out from some deep abyss as he said again, “Help me, help me, help me.”
“Wellyn, please stop.” she gasped out as Wellyn continued pushing into her until her arms gave way, the weight too much to bear.
Just as he reared back to give her one final bone crushing push, a deep voice bellowed. “Hey!”
As Wellyn whirled, his face was met with the edge of a long sword as it sank into the center of his flesh. Black blood oozed, splattering Anelize in a sudden burst as he recoiled away from the blade. Wellyn hissed as he shook his head. Shrieking, he staggered away, retreating into the shadows.
Strong arms gripped hers, and she was pulled onto her feet, her mind in a daze as she stared up into Gabriel’s weathered face.
“Are you all right, Anya?” he asked, his breaths as labored as hers.
Gabriel was here. But how?
