Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

Ignoring the desire to slide into that black void, I crawled on hands and knees—awkward, with my hurt wrist—to Iana’s side. I hadn’t seen it before, but Max must have used a nail to slice her jugular. Even though that cut had mostly healed already, she had lost a tremendous amount of blood. It was pooled around her head and soaked into her hair like a pale, glittering halo. The wound in her stomach was too jagged and wide for me to do anything about. She’d already pulled the dagger out on her own, but I had no idea how to stop the bleeding.

One of her hands, coated in a thick, sticky layer of her own blood, settled over mine. Though she couldn’t manage to speak much louder than a whisper, and must have been in a horrific amount of pain, she managed a beatific smile for me. “I’m going to give you a parting gift. You gave me freedom. I thank you for that.”

“Oh, Iana, no.” My eyes blurred with fresh tears as I twined my fingers with hers and leaned over her. I did my best to be gentle as I pressed my bad hand to the seeping wound at her throat, ignoring the pain rocketing up my arm to put some pressure on it. There was so much blood already, all around her, but I had to try to keep some inside.

“Hush, I have little time. There is no saving me. Better to die free than live as a slave,” she whispered, her eyes closing as her fingers tightened around mine. “Your spirit is good, if not pure. My gift is twofold. I will cleanse you of the taint you carry. I ask only that you carry what remains of me to the Sleeper.”

She stared up at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to say something. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I can’t drag your body back to New York with me, Iana.”

That prompted a short-lived laugh out of her that quickly cut off into a little cry of pain. She had to catch her breath before she could continue.

“No, Shiarra. I just need your agreement. My . . . essence, or soul, I suppose you might call it, will join with yours. Then you must find her. She’ll know what to do.”

“Wait, what? You can’t have my soul!”

“Foolish child,” she said, voice weak, thready. “Your soul is you. Not a part of you. My presence will do nothing to change that. Your body is but a shell, and it can house two for a time. Yes or no? I won’t have the strength to do this much longer.”

Even though I wasn’t certain what I was agreeing to, I didn’t think Iana would do anything to hurt me. If she thought this Sleeper could help, then I would track her down and play the part of metaphysical delivery person.

“Okay. Yes.” I couldn’t see through my tears anymore. I didn’t want her to die, not this way, but I didn’t know what else to do.

She breathed a relieved sigh. Her chest stopped moving, and her pulse no longer fluttered under my fingertips. For a second I thought that was it—that she was gone—but then a subtle heat began creeping up my arm. I started to pull away, but her hand tightened on mine so hard that I couldn’t have withdrawn without hurting her or myself. The heat sank into my skin, working up to my shoulder, growing hotter as it went.

“Iana! What the hell?”

She didn’t answer. The heat began to tingle and burn, settling into my chest, digging into my muscles, climbing up to my jaw and even my teeth.

I couldn’t move. My muscles locked up, and when I closed my eyes, all I saw was a hazy, golden glow, growing brighter by the minute.

I’m not sure how long that inner fire blazed through my veins, but when it was over, it left me shivering with sudden cold, and night-blinded.

No. Not night-blinded. My night vision was gone. I hadn’t realized how freaking dark it was in here without any lights on.

Not only that, but a thousand myriad sounds and scents that had assaulted me before had gone silent. Temporary deafness, blindness, and loss of my sense of smell? No, I could hear Gideon moaning in pain somewhere nearby, and the smell of blood and butcher shop leftovers assailed me. Not as acutely as before. It was like my ears and nose had been covered in gauze. My mouth tasted god-awful, too, like the lingering taste of copper pennies left on my tongue. Old blood. I felt around with my tongue, and detected no hint of fangs anymore.

Holy shit. Iana hadn’t specified what she meant by “cleanse” me, and I hadn’t thought to ask.

She’d made me human again. She’d burned away the infection. Healed me.

All because I gave her a few minutes of freedom.

I had never let go of her hand. Though I couldn’t see her body anymore in the dark, I curled both of my hands around hers, already going cold, bowed my head, and cried.

This wasn’t a victory. What had I really done that merited her giving up her life in the process of saving me or making me whole again? It wasn’t rational, but I wished I hadn’t taken her gift, thought that maybe she’d still be here if I hadn’t said yes. Maybe she could have used that strength to stay alive a little longer. Maybe I could have gotten to Arnold or Bonnie in time to save her. Maybe one of the vampires could have turned her, even if she would have hated them—and me—for it.

It wasn’t fair. And all the wishes and regrets in the world wouldn’t bring her back.

As I rocked back and forth, holding her limp hand to my cheek even if she wouldn’t feel it anymore, something changed. It felt like some of that warmth in my chest returned, a phantom touch, filling up some of that emptiness where Max used to be.

Though she hadn’t told me, whatever part of herself she’d given over to me was expressing comfort the only way it could. Passing on a taste of her motivation. She had given up everything to put an end to Max’s evil. She knew and accepted that she would not survive the encounter. Her reasoning wasn’t solely to avenge her imprisonment. Like me, she had wanted to put a halt to his activities to save the others, and future generations, from his cruelty.

It wasn’t like having the vampires or the belt in my head. Nothing about it was like a voice or a goad. Just a feeling. A knowingness that told me I wasn’t alone.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, silently grieving over someone I barely knew. Her body was gone, but she wasn’t. Not really. A part of her was with me, and I would carry it with me until I found the Sleeper. Even when she was gone, I would never forget what she had done for me, and that I would never be alone.

Though I no longer felt like I was going to jump off the nearest cliff at the earliest opportunity, the reminder that I was so close to Gideon sent a pang of fear through me.

Then I remembered that I was no longer harboring a semi-vampiric nature for him to manipulate. The charm that should have kept vampires and magi from messing with my head was long gone, but I didn’t think there was anything he could do to me as long as I avoided meeting his gaze. I hoped.

I didn’t dare wipe away my tears considering what must be on my hands and clothes. Though I couldn’t see shit, I followed the sounds of his heavy breathing and groans, fumbling on hands and knees in the dark. Every time I touched a puddle I cringed and wrinkled my nose. My senses might have been dulled, but the stink of rot wafting off the necromancer was easier to follow than the sounds of complaint he was making, even over the powerful odor of blood and other gore in the room and coating my clothes.

We both yelped when I put my hand down square on his junk. There was no mistaking it, either. I really hoped he couldn’t see as well in the dark as I had been able to, because I was pretty sure my cheeks must have been glowing like beacons.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean—”