Page 11 of Blood Bond

“Nothing. She didn’t understand what it was.”

Donovan's questions oscillate between the Nostro and the thirsty, pressing Nico to clarify the events repeatedly. He speaks of leaving the Hallows but omits details about their escape. Donovan may instil fear in his body, but Jackie terrorises his very soul.

Donovan’s gaze turns distant, reflective. Amelia watches him, her expression darkening. “Is she awakening to her powers?” Her voice is a blend of curiosity and unease. “Her touch caused the Nostro to flee. That’s beyond human.”

“It's possible,” Donovan muses. “Her reaction to the Nostro ... it suggests something dormant within her is awakening.”

Amelia tilts her head, considering his words. “But does she even know what she can do? It seems like she’s unaware of her potential.”

Donovan cocks his head to the side. “That's the intriguing part. If she is oblivious to her abilities, she's a wild card. Unpredictable. It could be an advantage or a complication for us.”

Amelia purses her lips. “An untrained power is like a loose cannon. If she truly has magic, understanding it and controlling it would be vital. Especially if she's just discovering it.”

Donovan pins Amelia with a stare. “We need her here. If her powers are emerging, she could be more valuable than we anticipated. Or more dangerous.”

Amelia smirks, a glint of excitement in her eyes. “Either way, it seems we have more than just a simple human on our hands.”

“Oh, she’s always been more than a simple human.” His attention turns back to Nico. “Do you know where Seth has taken her?”

“N-No.” And if he did, would he tell them?

Donovan's eyes narrow, suspicion evident. "You're lying, Nico."

Nico attempts to shake his head, hindered by Amelia's unyielding grip. "I-I swear, I-I don't know."

Donovan grabs Nico's collar, yanking him forward. "Do. Not. Lie. You know where they are, and youwilltell me."

Panic surges in Nico’s chest.

Amelia leans closer, her whisper for Donovan's ears. "You can leave him to me. I’ll extract the truth."

Nico's heart races with dread. "I-I s-swear, I-I d-don't know…."

Donovan's grip tightens painfully, and his eyes darken, the red swirling ominously. "You know, Nico.Tellme. Where are they?”

Amelia's nails suddenly press deeper, drawing blood. "Speak, Nico," she drawls, her gaze malicious.

Nico clenches his teeth against the pain. "I-I don’t k-know," he gasps. The fear is suffocating.

Donovan rises back to his full height and tuts. “That’s very disappointing, Nico.” He gives Amelia a nod. “Keep him alive. He'll be useful.” He smirks. “A valuable bargaining chip.”

ChapterSeven

Seth’s eyes seem to bleed, like ink spreading around the whites of his eyes. Layla, once a delicate beauty, is now a grotesque caricature of herself. Her skin is pallid and ashen, her hair a wild tangle resembling a bird's nest. Layla is replaced by a gnashing zombie-like visage.

As I watch her, it feels as if my heart ceases to beat, breaking into countless shattered pieces. Although I hadn't known Layla for long, I can read people. I distinguish the good from the bad, the intentions to harm from those of kindness. I had sensed her nature; she had always been nothing but kind to me. She didn’t deserve this fate.

“Is this because of her fall?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. None of us move, each paralysed by the sight before us. Tasha remains on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chin, her arms wrapped tightly around them as she trembles. Her eyes are deep, dark voids.

Seth stares at Layla, and I can almost feel the waves of sadness emanating from him. She had been with him for so long, and though the duration remains uncertain, her loyalty and love for him were unmistakable. I expect, in his own way, he love her in return.

“If she had no blood to heal herself,” Seth begins, finally tearing his gaze away from her to address me, “then her body will have consumed what’s already within, entering a state of starvation.” There is a gentleness in his eyes, a stark contrast to his inherent authority. It’s a skill honed over centuries of existence, blending strength with compassion.

Practice, I assume. When you’re as ancient as he is, such complexities become second nature.

Seth’s focus returns to Tasha. “Tasha, my darling, how long has she been here?”

“Three days,” she replies, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. “Three. I found her—” her sentence is interrupted by a sob, although no tears accompany it. Perhaps she has none left to shed, having given all of herself to sorrow. I’ve been in that place before, where the tears just run dry. I’ve cried so intensely it felt like I had nothing left to give. She places a hand over her mouth, and through our differences, my heart breaks for her. “Donovan came down and said you were dead. He said you’d fallen and that you’d died. I …” She shakes her head, pulls her legs up to herself, and cries for a moment.

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