39. Ashe

“She's useless to us like this!”

Oh God, my fucking head. What happened?

“Calm down, Garren. We can still salvage this.”

“We did agree to wait until after it was safely removed. With this rash decision, our window of opportunity is limited at best.”

The back of my skull throbs as I slowly blink open my eyes. Blinding white light sends a searing pain shooting through my nerves and I quickly squeeze them shut again. These strange voices were not helping to ease the pounding in my head, either.

“Leave it to a witch to go and fuck everything up. No offense, Cass.”

A witch?

Like a movie playing in slow motion, it was all coming back to me. The kiss I shared with Dani last night, a kiss that whispered of false promises and a life I could not offer her no matter how badly I wanted it. The choice I had to make, a choice that would cost one of us everything no matter which path I decided to take. The church from my past where I went to try and clear my head of the ghosts that haunt me.

The Enlightened. The puppetmaster. Nessa.

Rose!

Hesitantly, I squint my eyes open again. Glossy white tile fills my vision, gleaming under florescent lights. It was a small room, no bigger than an exam room in a doctor's office, with no windows and reinforced steel walls. To my left was a row of cabinets and a stool with wheels tucked carefully under the built-in desk; to my right stood a blur of bodies, all garbed in matching black jackets. My eyes had not yet fully adjusted to the light and so it was hard to tell if I was in some kind of hospital or a prison. But I knew where I was not.

This was not part of the ruins of Bethel Baptist Church.

“Exactly what part of that statement was I not supposed to take offense to?”

“I didn't mean nothing by it, Cass, you know that. It's just that, we had a plan and we didn't stick to it. You know how he hates surprises.”

“Well she is here now and the witch has her blood. That should be enough for what needs to be done.”

“I hope you're right, Lou. If she gets free then we're all as good as dead.”

A sharp sting pinches my arm and reflexively I hiss and jerk my head upright. I try to lash out at the assailant but something holds my hand at bay. As my eyesight adjusts, a familiar glint of silver draws my attention and I glance to the side to see a chain—my chain—snaking around my wrist before stretching away from my body, securing itself to a metal ring jutting out from the adjacent wall and rendering my arm immobile.

I pull against the binding in an attempt to get my arm free but the metal rattles in place, unrelenting. The magic does not even respond when I try to recall the ink back into my skin and I curse. I was bound. I was bound by my own goddamn mark! What the hell did they give me, a suppressant? Where was my fucking demon anger!

“She wakes.”

“Shit. You better hope your magic holds this time, Cass.”

“It'll hold, Erik. Go get Kyros.”

Heavy footsteps echo down a hallway as I turn my head to get a better look at my captors.

Two men stood on either side of the room's only door, one with a stocky build and a head of disheveled sandy blonde hair and the other with lightning crackling where his eyes should have been. The third was a young woman with long dark hair, shorter in stature but with a glower equally as intense as her blonde companion's stare. How strange that neither of the two mortals resonated with fear like I would have assumed when standing in the same room as a Reaper and a demon.

I'll have to fix that.

“Like what we've done with the place?” the woman asks as she emerges from my side, a syringe full of blood clasped in her hand. “It's so hard to find a good hideout when you're constantly on the run, but I think we got lucky this time. An abandoned psychiatric hospital seems rather fitting for this madness. Most of us would've preferred to just get what we needed from you and then 'reap' you, as you Reapers like to say, but he assured us that this was the only way to get you to listen.”

“Lord knows why he won't just let us kill you,” the blonde mutters. I ignore him as I fixate my gaze on the woman.

“So, what, you had your little apostate knock me unconscious and then brought me to a mental institution to have me committed?” My throat feels raw and I try to clear it. “At least tell me you drove us around in your nice kidnapping van. I'm a classy girl.”

Why am I so talkative right now?

“You were transported through a backdoor. A risky trick, mind you, and incredibly difficult to do even with the invention of phones to help coordinate the timing of the spell. But it makes for faster travel than, say, by car or plane. And no, I'm not telling you where you were transported to, so don't even bother asking.”

Great, more shadow magic. And through a backdoor, no less. No wonder why my bones hurt.

I catch a glimpse of a silver medallion dangling from her neck as she walks by. My eyes trace over the interlacing arcs of the entwined circle and triangle, the witches' symbol for the Triquetra and an irremovable talisman for tracking those who were registered, before I lift my gaze.

“I know what you're thinking,” the woman says as she sets the syringe down next to several empty vials, her back turned to me. “But we've been playing this game awhile now. I don't practice anything that'll draw unwanted attention and you were transported several miles from here. We disabled your phone's GPS and drove you the rest of the way, so no one can trace your whereabouts.” Her eyes meet mine and a smirk curls up in the corner of her mouth. “And our van is very nice by kidnapping standards.”

“Oh, you've no idea what I'm thinking.” My eyes glance over her before sweeping the room. “A shifter, a witch and a demon walk into a psych ward. This sounds like the makings of a bad joke.” I let out a low whistle. “And you're all wearing matching uniforms. How very totalitarian. Or is it egalitarian? I never really had a knack for politics and this is my first time participating in an uprising. Against my will, of course, but I think we can overlook that little detail.”

Christ, they must have drugged me if I was being this chatty. But why was my blood not burning it off?

“Oh great, a Reaper with a mouth.” The blonde crosses his arms over his chest with a groan; I can feel the anger bubbling in his chest from across the room and smirk. This could be useful.

“Judging by the smell in here”—dramatically, I make a point to sniff the air before turning my attention back to blondie—“I'd venture to guess that you're one of the lycan mutts. What's wrong, did your pack abandon you? Run you out with your tail tucked between your legs? Are you a stray?”

“I'm not a fucking werewolf,” he hisses and my smirk widens.

“My mistake. You all smell the same.” I squint my eyes and lean forward as far as my restraints would allow. “Wait, I know you! You were down in the Southside back in the Second Precinct, during that domestic dispute three nights ago.”

“Aye. You killed my sister that night, you bitch.”

His anger snaps, assaulting my senses, and I struggle to bite back a frown. I did not feel good about that decision, but what choice did I have? She had broken one of our laws and shifted in front of humans. Regardless of the reason as to why, that alone was a death sentence! If it was not by my hand then she would have been reaped by another's; at least the death I offered was quick in comparison. But mercy killings never won me any allies and the line I walk just keeps getting thinner.

Still, I needed to find a way out of here and pissing off this gattan might be my best bet. So I swallow my guilt and press his buttons further. “Does your mommy know what you've been up to?” I tsk and slump back. “Do I need to have a talk with her about your illegal extracurricular activities? I'm sure she won't mind if I pay her another visit.”

The cougar bristles and moves to take a step forward but the demon places a hand on his broad shoulder. “Do not let yourself become bait for her goading,” he warns, the words rolling off of his tongue like silk as they wrap themselves around the blonde like a warm blanket, calming his mind, and I inwardly groan. Of course he would have sensed the fera's rising anger. So much for that plan.

“Why am I not surprised that the ever-stoic demon is sucking all the fun out of the room?”

“Actually,” the witch chimes in as she sits down on the stool, “he's keeping him from giving in to his anger. Wouldn't want him shifting in here. It's a very small room.” She ties a tourniquet around her arm and taps a finger against the crook of her elbow. “But nice try, Reaper.”

I watch as she inserts the needle from the syringe into her skin. Gross.

“Listen. Cass, was it?” I grimace as the vial of blood slowly drains, leaving behind smears of red on the glass tube. “That's not exactly safe. You don't know what sort of diseases I'm carrying. You might grow a third arm, or hair on your nipples.”

“Despite the fact that you cambions are notoriously healthy creatures, to be safe I went ahead and tested your blood, anyway. You're clean.” Her eyes flick in my direction as she squeezes out the last drop. “I'm not an idiot.”

“No, just insane.” As a fit of coughs racks her body, forcing her to hunch over, I smirk. “Personally, though, I'm hoping you just drop dead.”

“Goddamn your blood burns,” she wheezes as she tosses the empty syringe into a silver tray on the desk next to her. Her hands shake as the veins beneath her pale skin bulge, but just as quickly the tremors pass and she slowly exhales. “But it should do the trick.”

“Well if you're looking for the secret to immortality, you won't find it in my blood. If you ask nicely then maybe the vampires will tell you how they did it, if they don't suck out your soul first.” I roll my neck, loosening the muscles as my bones groan and crack from lack of movement. Jesus, how long was I out? “You might become immune to hangovers, though. Comes in handy at parties. You're welcome.”

Cass turns her gaze to me and quirks a brow. “You're still talking,” she murmurs as she runs a hand through her raven black hair. “I was hoping you would've stayed unconscious, or at the very least be too out of it to see straight, but we ran out of mood stabilizers.”

Mood stabilizers? Is that why I feel so chatty right now? They must have given me enough of the serum to knock out an elephant if my blood has not burned it off by now. And why was she injecting my blood, anyway?

“Astute observation. And I see that you're not dead.” I purse my lips, wondering just how far I could push them before one of these zealots slip up. I only needed one chance and this was far from my first time being interrogated. I doubt any of them could say the same. “Maybe you got a bad batch. You should try drawing blood from my other arm, it's my dominant hand.” I offer her a mischievous wink. “If you unchain me I can show you just how strong it is—”

The Reaper's mark ripples across my skin and my eyes widen as a chain slithers unbidden up my neck and around my mouth, gagging me. I try to call it back, to will the magic back into my body, but it was like dialing an old number and getting nothing but static on the other end.

“Thanks for the offer,” Cass says as she stretches out her hand. “But I'm more into bondage.”

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Hey, Lou, can you believe this shit—Ah, what do you know? You're a demon.” Behind her, I can see the fera rolling his eyes as he fights to rein in his agitation. “Would you like us to leave the room so you two can 'bond', Cass?”

“That won't be necessary, Garren. She'll behave.” The witch walks over until she was standing just shy of headbutting range, her soft brown eyes level with mine. “Won't you, Reaper?”

Like hell I will! I nod anyway.

With a smirk she flicks her wrist and the chain unwinds itself from my chin, dissolving as the ink sinks back into my skin.

“Neat kink,” I grumble as I flex my jaw. “I'm a bit of an impact play girl, myself. Why don't you let me go and I'll show you my whip? It's got a little bite to it, though. I hope you aren't squeamish.”

“How about I show you mine first?” She hums, clasping her hands behind her back like a schoolteacher preparing a lecture and I cringe. What did I do to deserve this? “Magic is easy enough to hack if you have the right ingredients. Blood for blood magic, in this case.”

And just like that, playtime was over. “The fuck does that mean? Are you saying you can hack Reapers?”

“It's kind of ingenious, isn't it? The ink they use for the Reaper's mark is encoded with your blood during the initiation ritual. It's why every handler is a practitioner of blood magic and why they're given a rune imbued with your blood. It's how they're able to restrain you when you get . . . unruly. All we needed was a little sample and”—Cass waves her hand and, as if tethered to it by some invisible string, the tattoo shifts as another chain emerges from my skin, winding itself around my outstretched arm—“voila!”

Manipulating the Reaper's mark without a matching rune was certainly a new trick. And using mood stabilizers to subdue my inner demon was something that was done to cambions during the initiation ritual, to keep us calm during the grueling process as the magic bonded to our skin. These were things that no one outside the Tribunal should know!

“How clever.” I grit my teeth against the burning sensation as I turn my focus back to her. “So someone's been leaking trade secrets, then. Sounds like I'll be busy when I get back.”

“Oh, you're not going anywhere,” Garren remarks with a laugh.

I shoot him a scowl. “We'll see about that, asshole.”

“We're only able to use the Reaper's mark to restrain you,” the witch continues, seemingly unbothered by her comrade's interruption. Points for dedication, I guess. “And even that is temporary without the rune.”

“Looks like they didn't give you all of our trade secrets.”

“It doesn't matter.” Another hum. “You know, you're actually my first to try this on. You should feel honored, it's not easy catching a Reaper while they're still alive.”

“Lucky me.”

Cass takes a step back as footsteps echo down the hallway outside. “Even so, between you and the Genesis Project that's all going to change.”

“And what the hell would you know about the Genesis Project?”

“More than you do, I'm sure.”

I flick my gaze to the newcomer as he steps into the room. He was tall and slender, with sharp angular features and short curly hair the color of wet soil. The navy blue blazer he donned was tailored to his athletic frame, a stark contrast to the militant jackets his companions wore, and despite his youthful appearance he carried himself with the air of someone who has lived well beyond his years.

“No one told me there was a dress code.”

“My, you do have a mouth on you. What fun.” The man's lips curl into a lopsided grin as he turns to the witch. “How long do we have?”

“With this dose? About fifteen minutes before the mood stabilizers wear off and my body metabolizes her blood. Maybe less with her now conscious. The cute ones are always so fiesty.”

“So much to say and yet so little time.” The newcomer nods as he turns his hazel eyes back to me. “Very well. Let's make our time together count, then. Shall we?”

Fifteen minutes, huh? I can drag this out until then. “Before we get started with the torture, do any of you happen to have any painkillers? My head is killing me.”

He smirks. “Our little witch did a real number on you, didn't she? She's quite a determined one, born with a gift for blood magic but dipping her toes in the same necromancy her family died for. There aren't many who would risk drawing from two of the Triquetra pools, but I reckon her anger towards you has been stoking that fire for some time.” A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he wheels the stool over and I grimace at the sound. “Seems like you two have that in common, no?”

Rose. “That bitch.”

“You can't fault the girl for her tenacity. Revenge can be a powerful motivator and you of all people should know how potent emotions can be.”

“She better hope I don't find her when I get out of here.”

“Presumptuous, aren't we? And you did kill her entire coven and left her alive. What did you think was going to happen?” He sits on the stool and leans forward. “What would you have done if you were in her shoes?”

Probably exactly what Rose had done. But I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that, or of seeing my guilt for the pain my actions have caused. “So is this the part where you tell me your crazy scheme for world domination? Is this some sort of lifelong revenge plot?” I scoff and shake my head. “You Enlightened zealots are no better than a two-bit Hollywood villain.”

“Quite the opposite, actually. We don't want revenge or world domination. What we strive for is more along the lines of world peace. A world where we can all be equal. A world where we no longer have to hide what we are out of some archaic sense of fear.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes. “Humans aren't ready, they'll never be ready. Tell them that aliens exist and they'll dress up in their Sunday best and roll out the red carpet. But tell them that monsters exist and they'll start sharpening their pitchforks and lighting their pyres.”

“If you think that the Untouched don't already know about us then you're a fool. Then again,” he hums, tilting his head. “Perhaps a fool is what you are. After all, you let yourself become soulbound to one of them. Again.”

My blood spikes and I grit my teeth. It was no surprise to me that they knew I was a cambion, my first encounter with the puppetmaster—with Rose—informed me of that much. But I had no idea that they knew about my soul ring or that I was no longer in possession of it! Or that it was Dani who I was bound to! “How do you know about that?”

“She's a special one, isn't she?” The man smirks. “The way she was able to restrain those air elementals was, in short, remarkable. Imagine what more we can do with her on our side. Or you.”

So, they were responsible for unleashing those harpies on us in the woods. Was that all just to get to Dani? To me? “You leave her out of this!”

“Relax, Reaper. I've no intentions of hurting your human. Actually, I'd like to help you with your situation.”

“I'm sure you would,” I growl. Anyone would do anything to get their hands on a soul ring. “But I'm not into polygamy and murder is off the table. Go fuck yourself and find another ring.”

He chuckles. “You misunderstand me. I don't want to wear it. It wouldn't do me any good, anyway. No, I want to help free you from its magic. Permanently and without the penalty of death, for both of you.”

Now it was my turn to laugh, although there was no humor behind it. “That's impossible.”

“Why, because that's what you've been told?”

“Because it's never been done!”

“According to who? The Tribunal?” He scoffs. “You know as well as I do that they only spin a narrative when it suits them.”

“And what's your narrative? That you're some kind of savior rising up against the oppressive regime and leading us all into the light where we'll hold hands with humans and sing kumbaya?” I snort. “Fat chance.”

“The Tribunal will never let that happen. We barely get along with each other as it is and humans have a knack for destroying themselves without our help. Probably best if we stick to the shadows.”

“In a world as big as this, why should we have to hide at all?”

I rotate my wrist, testing my restraints as I lock my gaze with his. “Look, I don't always agree with what they do and I sure as shit don't enjoy what I do, but I know the importance of it. I've seen supernaturals on a bad day. Humans, too. Upholding the alliance is the only way to—”

“The alliance is a crock of shit!” Garren barks from the back. “You've seen the true cost of keeping the Tribunal's precious balance. You've helped collect their dues, Reaper. Your hands are just as dirty as theirs!”

“What he means to say,” the man continues, pursing his lips, “is that the Tribunal was not created to uphold the balance and keep us all from killing each other. Not directly, at least. And it certainly wasn't created to keep us safe from humans.”

I narrow my eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Let's just say that maintaining our secrecy isn't in everyone's best interest.”

“You talk a great game, but what's any of this got to do with me?”

“You are a cambion with a soul ring. It has everything to do with you.”

A non-answer. Perfect. “And the Genesis Project? What the hell do you know about that?”

“Think for yourself! Why would the Tribunal wish to keep our kind segregated and in the shadows? Why continue to breed hate between our races and ingrain in us a fear of discovery from the Untouched?” He leans back with a frown. “What would they have to lose if we quit drinking the poison that they've been selling and lift the curtain from humanity's eyes? What sort of secrets would come to light when there's no more shadow left to hide in?”

Power? Control? I knew these answers already; I've considered them, myself, many times over. But I also knew the level of cruelty that humans could enact on those who were different. I've seen it play throughout history as they turned on their own kind. I've felt the fires of their hatred firsthand. Their lust for power could be no different than the Tribunal's at times.

I've seen the good in them, too.

Dani's face flashes in my mind and I grit my teeth. After living for so long in the shadows, I was not about to lose my light so soon. I needed to get back to her! She was not safe on her own, especially since they know who she is now! I needed to keep him talking. I could feel my blood boiling as the drugs they injected into my system start to burn off. Their time was almost up.

“Enlighten me.”

“The Tribunal governs our world through fear. Why do you think they impose such stiff punishments for breaking their laws? For our safety?”

“Maybe not for your safety,” I sneer. “You're just a goddamn zealot with a soapbox. You should fear them. You should fear me.”

“Fear is a means of control and you Reapers are their tool for maintaining that control. But their perfect system has one fatal flaw: humans are mortal, weak, and the cambions were too wild for them to tame. Why do you think they hunt demons? Because they're dangerous?” He shakes his head, lips twitching as he removes his blazer and rolls up the sleeves of his collared undershirt. “Demons ruled this world once, you know, long before the Tribunal stepped in. But it all comes back to power and someone must sit on that throne. Tell me, Ashadjinalda. What would they gain by turning their Reapers into cambions with someone like you under their thumb?”

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach like a stone. That name. “How do you know that name?”

“I know a lot about you, 'daughter of the fire and the sky'. I know that you are a rare bird, one of a kind, a cambion with a soul ring. I know that we share the same blood. Relatively speaking, of course.”

My eyes flick between his own hazel pair as I study his features. Impossible! But the energy that radiated off of him did not lie. “Y-you're a cambion?”

“What, you thought that you were the last?” He tsks. “How sad.”

“I thought you had all turned, that your emotions consumed you until you were little more than wraiths.”

“Is that what you've been told?” Another tsk. “Not all of us succumbed to our inner demons, and those that did—well, let's just say that they weren't strong enough. Not like you and I.”

I glance over his arms. His pale skin was smooth and bare, absent of any markings. No tattoo. No chains. “How have you escaped the Tribunal's notice for so long? How have you survived?”

“I'm afraid that is a story for another time. And time never is on our side, is it?”

In more ways than one. I wiggle my fingers, testing my will against my restraints. The chains quiver slightly and I spare a glance at the raven-haired witch. Her eyebrows furrow as she raises her hand and the chains tighten around my arm, but I do not fail to notice the beads of sweat that dot her brow from the effort.

Only a few more minutes, maybe less, before the suppressants dissipate and the witch's hold over me wears off. I needed to get the fuck out of here!

“We're running out of time, Kyros,” Cass grunts. “Whatever you're planning to do with her, make it fast.”

“Kyros, is it?” I swivel my attention back to the cambion. “Why are you helping them?”

“I believe in their cause. There are others who believe in it, as well.”

“They're trapping demons. That makes them just as bad as the Tribunal.”

“The road to enlightenment is often paved in blood.”

Oh, great, a cambion with a messiah complex. “Save your bullshit for someone who cares. You're delusional if you think you're fighting for a noble cause. At least I know what I am!”

He quirks a brow. “Do you?”

A gust of hot air whistles from my nose as my nostrils flare. I was not about to let myself be baited by these zealots, cambion or not. “Demons have always been used no matter which side is right. Can't you see these people are just using you, too?”

“Demons are capable of making up their own minds on what they think is right. And yet, you are the one wearing chains.”

Before I can retort, a cold fog emerges from beneath my feet. It shimmers under the florescent lights as it rolls over my boots and I let loose a sigh of relief. I never thought I'd be happy to see that ever again.

“They're pulling her through a backdoor!”

“Quick, stop her!”

“Let her go! We got what we needed!” Kyros turns his hazel eyes back to me, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “Whether you like it or not, a war is coming. Soon you'll have to decide which side you're on. I hope you make the right choice when that time comes.”

Despite the pain that grips me as the silver smoke crawls up my legs and around my arms, I manage a snort. “If it ever comes to that, then I'll make sure to greet you with open arms.”

“I think that, given time, you'll come looking for me. You'll want answers and there's still so much for us to discuss.”

“Next time I see you, it'll be with my blade rammed down your throat. Try preaching that savior shit with a mouth full of silver.”

Kyros hums, his grin unwavering. “We shall see, Ashadjinalda,” he says, his voice echoing in the fog as the chains loosen their hold and my body is ripped back through the Veil. “We shall see.”

Just as the smoke clears and my nerves snap back into place, something sharp pierces my chest. I glance down to see blood seeping through my shirt from a bullet wound between my breasts.

Oh for the love of—

“Oh good,” a familiar voice croons. As the Reaper's mark recedes back into my skin and darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision, I watch as Catalina lowers her pistol, a blood-red smirk painted on her lips. “You're back.”

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A/N: Oh my. Ashe, what have you gotten yourself into? 👀

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