Bloodlines

Content that she wasn’t being followed or prevented from going back home to her cabin, Verona braced a hand on the large door handle of the tavern. The coolness of the copper handle seeped into her skin as she grasped it tightly. Several customers sat in their seats, casually turning towards the sound as the doors swung open with a groan.

She had to hide that body. The world was awash in twilight, casting an eerie glow over the bricks and stones. Where had it happened, again? Verona wandered the streets, braced for the sight of the corpse. Of the man she had murdered.

What am I even going to do with the damn thing? Firmin hadn’t exactly been a light man. He was on the larger side, and rather hefty.

Verona turned the corner.

This was it, she thought. Now I just have to figure out how to…

Her breath caught in her lungs.

This had to have been it. She scanned the street, the cobblestones. There should have been blood, or…something.

Or the entire damned body.

Kithys help me, Kithys help me.

There was no corpse in the street. No blood, no evidence of a murder or an attack. This had to have been it. Verona stared at the ground before her, at the chipped edge of brick where she had been flung not even an hour earlier.

Was the Everthorn leadership investigating? Had someone found him already, and reported?

Her heart thundered in her chest, a slight ache returning to her head. She was doomed if someone saw the bruises blooming on her face. If someone spotted the marks on her palms, she would likely be taken in. Her breath quickened once again, as adrenaline filled her veins with panic.

Oh, Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods.

A shadow flickered in her periphery, a whisper of movement so fast that she hardly had time to react before a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her, the grip iron despite her struggles to wrench herself away. She opened her mouth to scream, before a hand was clamped tightly over it.

Oh Gods. It had to be him. She hadn’t killed Firmin, after all. This was it. He wouldn’t be so careless this time, either. What would it be? Another punch to her still-tender nose? Would he knock her teeth out?

I’d definitely look more like someone from Everthorn then.

Verona turned enough to see a flash of tawny hair, before she was dragged into the nearest alleyway. A voice she knew whispered in her ear, so close it tickled her ear lobes.

“You’re lucky I was watching the whole thing. I cleaned up after your mess.”

Bryonn’s flawless face came into focus as he tightened his grip on her and pulled her into him.

“Bryonn?! Let go of me!” Her voice cracked as she used her free hand to claw at the man’s chest. First Firmin, then Corbin’s friend from the session? The pretty man with the golden lute?

What a horse’s ass. Verona’s gaze darted around, looking for someone, anyone, to ask for help. Bryonn’s sweet smell washed over her, the cinnamon, those other exotic scents. The village streets were barren. The spark of hope faded within her chest, the realization that no one was going to help her.

She was on her own, then.

She glanced back up at Bryonn, who still held onto her wrist tightly. He peered down at her with those sea-colored eyes, an overtly friendly expression blossoming over his features.

What does he want with me? She thought, heart hammering in her chest. Her palms ached, her freshly-broken nose sending arcs of pain across her face.

He was much taller than her, she realized, as she had to adjust, standing on her tip-toes to avoid her arm being pulled out of its damned socket. He started walking at a near-frenzied pace. She braced her feet upon the ground, although the tips of her toes didn’t amount to much resistance. Bryonn dragged her with ease.

I should scream, she thought, tugging against his grip again. Leaning forward, she gnashed her teeth at Bryonn’s arm. Maybe, if she could bite him, he would let go. Then she could run, and …

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

And what? Where would she even go? He was stronger than her- had been trailing her this entire time. She tried to bite him again, but couldn’t reach far enough to make contact.

She glanced behind her, realizing that he had dragged her back in the direction of the tavern. Perhaps he was taking her back to Corbin so they could clean her up better, or tell her why she was suddenly able to use magic…

The temporary spark of hope faded quickly as Bryonn pivoted away from the Crow, towards where Verona knew the forest paths lay. The scenery dimmed further, fading into the distance as Bryonn, with his umber hair and his golden lute tucked under his arm, dragged her away, towards an unknown destination.

Silence swallowed her like a sinkhole. Like a harbinger’s gullet. Whether it was Corbin’s tincture buzzing through her system, or the simple shock of what was happening to her at this moment, she didn’t know.

“I can practically scent the magic in your blood," Bryonn said, breaking the silence, his voice suddenly uncomfortably intense. Vicious, even. "Shame on Corbin, really, for allowing this to go on for so long. And now someone is dead because of it.”

What? Verona wanted to scream. What am I? What was this man talking about?

Bryonn’s full lips upturned into a smile. The expression was pleasant enough, but brought a chill to her chest. How strange, to shift from blushing like a romantic fool for this man, to nearly pissing in her skirts like a coward. And she was a coward, she reminded herself. This was no different than Amona’s death. Watching the bloodbath, the foam pouring from her the mare’s mouth. Pinned, helpless, bleeding…

The memory brought tears to her eyes, despite her effort to numb it all. She swore. That’s what the ale and mead had been for. The music, even. It all served the same damn purpose.

Running away from her demons.

That’s all she’d ever been any good at.

****************************************************************************

Eventually- Verona couldn’t quite make sense of how long she’d been dragged along at a pace she couldn’t keep up with- Bryonn stopped walking. He pressed her wrist- the one he had a grip on- against a nearby tree, and moved quickly, faster than she could comprehend- to do the same to her other wrist. The burns on her palms flared with pain at the action. She flinched, shuttering her eyes, the bark smooth on her back. His blue eyes flickered to her wrists, then quickly back to her face. His brow furrowed and he stared at her in silence. What was he planning to do? Was he picking up where Firmin had left off…?

Trapped. Snared. Like a wild beast, one of the hundreds of fish she’d hooked in her lifetime.

Tears fell freely, now, warm and salty down her freckled cheeks. Fear laced her veins.

She glanced frantically around the forest entrance, willing-begging- anyone to come help her. Bryonn pressed in closely.

“Shhhh… just quiet down.” He whispered in her ear. She tensed, shrinking away from him.

“Get away from me!”

“If I let go of you, will you stay silent and listen?” In the faint lamplight of the torches at the end of the Village boundaries, Verona saw it. Bryonn’s ears, slightly longer than a human’s should be. Jeweled earrings hung from them freely, gleaming in the dim lighting at town’s end.

She nearly vomited, swallowing the bile as it rose in her throat.

So he is Fae. No wonder he’d so casually mentioned the Sidhe. His surreally beautiful singing. That sweet smell of his. Only fae used such rich oils. Could afford such fine linens. Her heart leaped, remembering the smells and sights of the fae caravans of her childhood. Sobbing, she nodded. Anything to get him away, to avoid any other physical contact with this…this being.

With a deep, exasperated sigh, Bryonn let go of her. She dropped to the ground, the rough landing sending threads of pain up her shins.

“If you had just stopped fighting, none of this would be necessary.” His ocean-blue eyes studied her, laced with suspicion.

She cursed herself again. A golden lute. That beautiful visage, that perfect voice. She should have damn well known he wasn’t human. But- a friend of Corbin’s? What did that make him? What did that make of the gentle bartender who had saved her life many times over?

“Fae aren’t welcome here anymore,” She dared to snap at him, mustering all of the venom she possibly could. Wound him, hurt him with your words. That, at least, was something she was good at. Bryonn’s expression did not falter. “If the Village council were to-”

“The Council? Verona, if the Council knew what you actually were, you wouldn’t be welcome here anymore.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t even know what you don’t know. The danger you’re in now…once the word spreads…”

“What are you talking about, Bryonn? You’re making no sense. What danger? Who’s coming for me?”

“I’m also not fae.” Bryonn snapped, ignoring her questions. It was the first time the composure in his voice had broken. “I’m…only half.”

Verona froze.

Half. Half? Could that…even happen?

He eyed her appraisingly for a moment, then shook his head.

“Yes. Half-breeds exist. In fact, you may not know this, but Everthorn is full of them. It’s the perfect location. Far enough from Nithra, far enough from the Cearnian stronghold.”

Verona stood in silence and regarded Bryonn skeptically. The first fae, or even half-fae, she had laid eyes on since her childhood, and he was trying to kidnap her?

“But…that’s. That’s not why I dragged you here.”