Page 262 of Halfblood Deceived

CHAPTER 50

Aella strolled down a lonely trail in the park. The same park where she and Zeydan had their first true friendly encounter. It wasn’t the same area they frequented, however. She had purposely avoided what she considered their spots.

This trail ended near a currently deserted pond.

It was early in the afternoon. Most people were at work and had no time to wander around the park. Also, the temperature was inhospitably cold for an early November day.

With a tired sigh, Aella sat on a bench. She was cold, hungry, and mildly sore.

Aylana told Aella that Mari had given her a transfusion of Zeydan’s blood to heal her multiple broken bones. That she would probably be dead if not for Diana who somehow got them both to the shore of the lake before succumbing to her wounds.

Aella closed her eyes. Her chest ached. Diana wasn’t alone. Kerian would not leave her alone. Still, Aella couldn’t help but feel that she needed to be there for her sister.

She tucked her hands in her sweater, regretting not having put on some mittens.

Please help me help my sister; she prayed to Morrigan, Artemis, Celene, and even Lilith. To any goddess who would listen to her pleas.

Not to the god who had never heard her prayers, however.

Aella had read a lot of books about the goddesses supernatural races prayed to. Werewolves had Celene, Morrigan, and a few more. The fey also worshiped Morrigan and Artemis. Lilith was the goddess of vampires. She hadn’t made vampires as the church claimed, but sheltered them when they were hunted down by the angels long ago.

There were many versions of these goddesses’ stories. Few depicted them as perfect beings. None as all-powerful entities who demanded purity or female subjugation. The goddesses were complex beings. Sometimes irascible, and cruel to those who crossed them, but capable of kindness and compassion. Aella rather liked that. She could relate to these imperfect females who had become, much like supernaturals themselves, pariahs. All because they hadn’t bowed down to the power-hungry god that killed so many of their peers. Even weakened, they had tried to protect vampires, werewolves, fey, and many more. There were stories about it.

So yes, she’d rather pray to them.

Part of Aella still reeled at the idea of shedding the beliefs hammered into her head all her life. But that was exactly why she fought against her ingrained fear of going to Hell for her sinful prayers to other goddesses. Because those beliefs had never been hers. They’d been imposed on her, just like her marriage. And she was tired of being forced to do anything at all.

An undercurrent of warning ran down Aella’s spine.

She stood reflexively—just as someone wrapped a powerful arm around her neck, dragged her off the bench, and placed a cloth on her face. She tried to stop breathing, but a cloyingly sweet scent invaded her lungs.

Panic, rage, and instinctive defensive impulses stirred within Aella, and she battled against her attacker. She braced her foot against the bench’s backrest and pushed back with all the strength she could muster.

Her attacker grunted as they fell back to the ground.

Aella rammed her elbow against the ribs of the person holding her and tried to pry their hand off her face.

“Stupid bitch!” a male voice grunted.

Aella squirmed, kicked, and elbowed the male again, but she couldn’t breathe properly. Her stomach turned, and there wasn’t enough air reaching her lungs—

* * *

Blurry voices dragged Aella out of the drug-induced, heavy unconsciousness. Her head pulsed with pain, and her ears buzzed. She did her best to control her breathing to not let her kidnappers know she was awake. The ringing in her ears gradually cleared, and she focused on the voices.

“Why not kill her and be done with it?” a female voice with a Northern European accent asked.

“Because I want her to suffer,” answered another female with a nasal voice and a southern drawl.

Aella recognized that annoying voice.

Ha! I was right, she thought fuzzily.

She didn’t move.

Her wrists ached like the devil, and she could feel shackles around them. Around her ankles, too. Her neck also hurt because her head was slumped forward. She was sitting on a hard metallic chair. It wasn’t an unfamiliar position.

Terrible time to think about that; she scolded herself. Staying as still as possible, she kept listening.

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