Page 17 of Blood Bond

ChapterEleven

The room is suffused with the unmistakable reek of blood and death, the lingering scent heavy in the air. The constant hiss of the thirsty forms an unending roar that surrounds them.

Killian stands guard at the door, his chest heaving with each deep breath. The effort of keeping the creatures at bay is evident in his every movement. His clothes are marred with blood, his blade stained, and smears of gore are splashed across his face – a warrior who's been through war.

Naneve mirrors his appearance and posture. Her wide eyes are a testament to the horrors they’ve just faced. Her hair is stained with blood, and her weapon is splattered with the remnants of her own gruesome battles. Bits of flesh cling to them, tattered and torn.

Seth's clothes bear the marks of the fray too, with tears in his sleeves and the occasional claw mark on his skin where the odd thirsty caught him. As he presses the buttons, the machines spring to life with a series of clicks and hums.

Donovan.

Everything has been intentionally turned off, not just the main switch but the auxiliary controls as well, in a deliberate effort to ensure the thirsty and any other threats from outside can breach the sanctuary.

At least Donovan didn’t destroy the panel – that’s about all Seth can think. He had half-expected everything to be smashed to pieces, leaving them trapt. Of course, Seth never voiced that fear when he ordered the descent. All he could do was hope.

As the cannons outside fire their red mist, they hear the thirsty outside screeching. The sound is a piercing echo in Seth’s brain, scraping along every crevice of his mind. But they’ll back away soon. They’ll chase the dead blood, sate their insatiable hunger, and then lay down and die, waiting for the sun to claim them in the morning.

The three of them listen for a while, letting the hum of the fading frenzy peter out.

Killian breaks the silence, his voice heavy with tension. “This will clear them out? They’ll leave?”

Seth nods, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “It’ll draw them out. Anyone who drinks will die, and those who don’t, we can finish off ourselves.”

The lights flicker on,illuminating the room in a harsh, bright white light that reveals Seth's true condition. He can usually pass for human, masking the redness around his eyes, but now it's impossible to hide. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his eyes are a deep crimson, a stark reminder of his vampiric nature. The effort has taken a toll on him, his head swimming, as if he’s on the verge of slipping away into unconsciousness.

“Sire …” Killian’s voice, laced with concern, breaks through as he steps closer to Seth, leaving Naneve to stand guard by the door.

“I am alright,” Seth insists, bracing his hands on the table as the machinery of Skin Trade hums back to life, fulfilling their purpose – protecting those within its walls, creating a safe haven from the harshness of the world outside.

“You don’t look alright,” Killian counters, but Seth raises a hand to stop him.

“I need to get to the library. It’s in the original foundations of this place,” Seth says, his mind fixated on a specific book on its stand in the safe. He knows it's gone, taken by Donovan.

“What do you need from there?” Killian asks.

“Something that could mean life or death for us all,” Seth replies absently, playing with the ring on his finger – a relic from centuries past, pulsing with a power that seems to have dimmed, not in light, but in feeling.

“I need both of you to go back to Payton and Tasha, check if they’re okay. I will go to the library myself, and depending on what I find there, we’ll decide our next steps.”

Seth’s mind is clear on the priority: to ensure Payton’s safety above all else. Then, he’ll focus on retrieving the book. Donovan can't use it without the ring, and certainly not without her.

“I can come with you, and Naneve can go back to the women,” Killian suggests, eliciting a look of disgust from Naneve.

“Or you can go with them,”Naneve interjects. “I am more than capable of assisting him.”

Seth raises a hand again, the effort visibly taxing him, but it effectively silences any brewing power struggle. “There is no argument here. You both secure the women. I will follow.” He moves towards the office door and releases the lock. The thirsty should be dead or dying by now. Even from inside the office, the silence is telling. When he opens the door, he isn't surprised to see most of the creatures outside, succumbing to the mist.

The few remaining thirsty are feasting on bodies already there. On a normal night, the guards would have shot each one of them for daring to come this close.

With a nod to Killian and Naneve, Seth prepares to leave, but then stops abruptly. A tingling sensation runs up his spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He tilts his head upwards, his gaze tracing the balconies and windows above.

“Killian …” Seth’s eyes darken to a deeper red.

Killian follows his master’s line of sight and his eyes widen. “How the hell did they get up there?”

In response, Seth rips the remnants of his shirt, revealing a dark tattoo of black wings across his back. With a rising motion, they come to life, peeling out of his skin and stretching far and wide, sleek black feathers unfolding. “Meet me up there.”

Killian races towards the stairs. Seth fans out his wings and pushes against the air to take flight, but nothing happens. Dread tightens in his chest as he watches the thirsty climbing the walls. Two of them dangle precariously from the edge, their grotesque limbs slowly pulling them up. He glimpses another slipping over the balcony, and a knot of fear forms in his stomach.

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