Soul Bound, page 37
I look down at Idris’s blank face, watching in horror as his lips turn a scary shade of blue.
“Hold on,” I plead, clinging to the fire in my fingers like a lifeline. “Please. Hold on.”
Chapter 37
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
My heart throbs and my pulse screams in my ears. Every fibre of my body fizzes and roars with a vicious, agonising energy, looking for something – anything – to dig my nails into and claw and claw and claw.
I tug my hair, the pressure a relief to the ringing whispers and the cold, twisted shards of fear coiling around my sternum.
The doctors are gathered around Idris in his room. I’ve never been in his room before, but it’s just like him. The top half of the walls are made of creamy stone, the lower half adorned with expensive wood panelling. A huge, antique four-poster bed is made up with cream and navy silk sheets, facing a large stained-glass door leading to a narrow balcony.
Idris lies on top of the sheets. I took off his shoes myself, fingers trembling over the laces as the doctors pored over their work. It was all I could think to do to help, useless as it was. He’ll at least be more comfortable, surely, so maybe it will help a little.
Taio and three other Halician doctors gather around. They are constantly checking his pulse, his temperature, testing one substance and then the next; examining the projectile and swabbing for remnants.
He’s so pale. Looking at him sets off a blinding war across my head, splinters of white-hot iron stabbing through my eyes to bury in my brain, but I can’t look away. I can’t bear it. Not when every fragile, battled breath could be his last. Not with the violet tinge taking hold of his mouth. Not with the black, bloodless look around his closed eyes…
It’s been hours. He hasn’t woken. He hasn’t spoken. He’s … fighting, but he’s doing it on his own. Fate’s Fury, I wish I could help. I would do anything to take this fight for him. But I can’t. I’m entirely helpless and I hate every second of it.
I stand at the end of the bed. My eyes feel so dry I feel like they might grind to dust with each blink. I have no tears left. I can’t stop staring; if I stop looking and he stops breathing…
The minute we arrived, Tahira and her team were off. The fury combing through the city right now must be extraordinary. The rage in Tahira’s expression, the raw, violent determination to find who did this, was unmistakeable. She doesn’t care what she has to do, she will find this foul assassin that got into our city; that hurt her friend and my…
I grip the corner of the bed, forever grateful for its support as Taio sighs and looks in my direction. I meet his gaze and he gestures for me to follow him away from the bed. I barely realise I’m walking as I move to his side, the world slightly spinning as he speaks.
“We’re not sure what it is,” Taio admits quietly. “Your doctors think it’s a plant from the north of your continent, perhaps a place called Rhone. But we can’t know for certain.”
“Will he be alright?” I ask. That’s the only question I care about. I see the slump of his shoulders, the defeat in his dark eyes… I barely hear the words as ringing takes up residence in my ears, almost swamping what comes next.
“Even if it is what they think, they don’t have the antidote. It’s rare. It takes a long time to brew and some ingredients are difficult to get hold of. We’re simply out of time. Now he just has to fight it … and he’s getting weaker. He’s not doing well,” Taio says, reaching out. Both hands gently squeeze my forearms, but whether he is holding me upright or keeping me from running away from the terrible words that follow next, I’m not sure. “You need to prepare yourself.”
“No,” I whisper, somehow finding what’s left of my tears. I turn back to the bed, my breathing choked as my vision goes blurry. He’s a glaring star, in perfect, blistering clarity.
“My prediction is that he won’t survive the night,” Taio continues.
I shake my head violently and my hand leaps to my mouth. My entire body is trembling. My world turns upside down, then tumbles and crashes to the ground. Every fibre of my blood screams and shrieks in my head, snarling at me to fight, begging me to take action. But what action? And where?
I stagger backwards, away from these doctors and their awful, awful words. My lungs can’t get enough air and my stomach churns and forces its way up my cold, empty throat.
I push through the doors and into the corridor.
“Renza! Renza!” Alfieri shoots after me. He’s been waiting outside, acting like a bodyguard. He sees my expression and his face crumbles.
I can’t do it. I can’t tell people. I can’t do this. It makes it real. And it can’t be.
IT CAN’T BE!
I fold myself onto the stairs, gripping hold of my throat like I can physically pry it open to let the air in. The ringing in my head gets louder and louder and louder. I want to scream. I want to smash things. I want to burn the world to the ground.
The front door opens and in marches Tahira. There’s a dark glint in her eyes as she looks around. She spies me on the stairs and her eyes narrow.
“Got the bastard,” she announces, and she holds up a vial of something in her hands. “And he had this. I think it’s the poison.”
“Bedroom. Now!” I point as she races up the stairs. “Where’s the culprit?”
“Basement cellar,” Tahira shouts back as she marches into the bedroom with her prize.
The monster is in the cellar.
A cold rage, sharp and steely, settles in my bones. The tears stop and my pulse drops. My head empties. I get to my feet and march down the stairs, out the back of the property and towards the cellar entrance. A myriad of Red Sands mercenaries stand guard, including Royah.
“You sure you want to see him?” Royah asks as I reach for the door. I don’t answer as I yank the door open, heading down the narrow stairs with her barely a pace behind. Orange-tongued torches line the dark stone structure. My steps echo as I walk, my shoes clipping against the cold, unforgiving ground.
I come to the door and Royah’s hand leaps out to stop me.
“Renza.” Royah’s voice is thick and torn. I turn to look at her. Her dark braids are gilded with amber, those brown eyes brimming with pain but also worry. For me.
“He’s a hitman for hire. He was paid to go after Idris four days ago. He wouldn’t give up his buyer, no matter what Bashran tried – and he tried a lot,” Royah says quietly. “You don’t have to see him. You don’t want to see the work Bash did—”
“You have the evidence?” I interrupt, my voice devoid of emotion.
She gestures to a large table at the back. I see weapons, more of those small, bead-like projectiles, and some kind of slingshot system. There are clothes, a few letters – if they were important Royah would’ve told me. Or Tahira. But they could be useful. Very useful indeed.
“We have the evidence to convict. You don’t need to go in there,” Royah says gently. “Please reconsider.”
“No,” I answer quietly but firmly. “But first get me some paper, and some charcoal.”
Royah frowns before nodding towards one of her colleagues who goes off to comply.
“What do you have in mind?” she asks, folding her arms.
“If it yields anything, I’ll let you know,” I say. “How bad is he in there?”
“He could probably use a doctor if you insist on sending one.”
“He’ll live without?”
“Long enough to hang for attempting to kill an Electi,” Royah answers begrudgingly, “but uncomfortably.” I nod before taking a burning torch off the wall. The heavy, dry wood scrapes against the stone as I haul it free, extending the rapidly spinning flames out to the side as I close my fingers over the frigid iron handle. I twist, yanking the door open. The heavy door groans against the worn wood floor.
I look inside, waiting expectantly for the monster who’s done this.
Sweaty, dirty, bloody. This skinny man is chained to the floor, buckled over himself in the dark. Firelight bounces off the clammy sheen to his head as he lifts his face up. It’s smeared with red. It drips from his nose, his mouth, his ears, mingling with the dirt that clings to his face and is trapped in his short beard.
I toss the torch to the side, letting it hit the floor. It’ll keep burning for a while at least, even lying on the floor. I don’t need long.
“Alone, please,” I say without turning to Royah. The door wails and slams closed behind me, locking me in this dark, dank room with this vile piece of filth.
The man doesn’t speak. Neither do I for a long time. I just look at him, not sure what I was expecting. This rage is burning with a glacial, bitter chill. Cruel, cold loathing sits at the front of my mind like a storm.
“Who hired you?” I say, breaking the silence.
“You think you can make me talk?” The assassin’s words are pained but there is strength behind them. It doesn’t matter. “Better have tried.”
“Different have tried,” I counter, stepping towards him. My steps ring off the stone, as I stand over him. I crouch down, narrowing my eyes.
“You aren’t afraid of pain, are you?” I say quietly, meeting his pale eye. “You think we’ll keep you alive as long as we need something, and alive you have hope. Even if that life isn’t worth living.”
The man’s face crumbles, blood brimming between his crooked teeth as he speaks.
“I won’t tell you a damn thing.”
“No need. Your work is distinctive. I’ll find your job history quite quickly. Find where you come from, where you were born and raised. Anyone you might’ve left behind. Perhaps a parent, a sister, a brother—”
His brow wobbles ever so slightly at the last word. So there is someone out there then. I push on that weakness.
“I’ll find your brother,” I say, and the assassin’s gaze turns wrathful. “I’m Renza Di Maineri. There’s no corner of this earth I can’t reach. My family are spread across every inch of this continent – our webs are everywhere. You know our brutality, our cruelty, the wicked games we play. I’ll find your brother … and that’s where I’ll make it hurt.”
“You bitch!” he spits, spraying his blood over my face. I wipe a speck from my eye as though unbothered.
“You take those I care for; I’ll return the favour. That little poison you used, it seems the doctors here don’t know much about it. Perhaps your brother can be a case study for our medics to learn more. Perhaps we can open up his chest and watch his veins turn black. Perhaps we can crack open his ribs so we know the precise moment his heart stops—”
“You’re a monster.”
“Idris Patricelli is mine,” I snarl, my hand leaping for his throat as I squeeze, letting my nails find root in his grimy flesh. “His life and his death belong to me – Fate decreed it so. You took what’s mine from me. I cannot let that stand. So if I can’t protect what’s mine, I have no choice but to avenge it. People can’t think they’ll get away with this. Your little family can be my brutal, vengeful example on the world stage.”
The man is breathing hard and rapidly, his mouth puckered with disgust.
“Unless you’re just a tool, of course.” I let my words soften as I search his face. I release my hand from around his neck and lean backwards. “If my anger ought to be directed elsewhere, then tell me. Present another target. Save your brother.”
“I was hired by the Holy States. I don’t have a name,” he bites out instantly.
“No,” I say coldly. “That’s a lie.”
The man lets out a short breath.
“Why protect them? You know I won’t let you go. All you can do now is choose where I find my revenge,” I say darkly. I stand up straight and step back, hands falling to my sides as I wait. Curled up on the floor, he breathes heavily before speaking.
“I don’t have a name,” he says quietly, but this has the ring of truth. Something in the way his eyes dart to the side as though he’s summoning a memory … the defeat in his shoulders, the slightly lower tone to his voice and slower pace to his words. “It was a woman. A small thing. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Warm complexion. Lots of curls.”
My stomach drops as I realise who he’s describing.
“Anything identifiable?” I ask quietly. He shakes his head as though trying to remember.
“She never let me get a good look at her face. I only saw it for a fraction of a moment, but when she handed me the money, I saw a wound on the back of her arm. An old burn by the looks of things.”
Fiora.
My heart stops for a long moment. My blood goes quiet as the pieces move into place in my head. My jaw clamps down, and it’s all I can do not to break my teeth.
“You know her,” the man says, a smirk in his voice. “Oh, you’ve been betrayed…”
Again. I’ve been betrayed yet again.
Three solid thumps come at the old door. Right on time. I step back and rub my face. The torch sputters on the ground, rapid flames writhing back and forth as I open the door. I take the papers and charcoal and close the door without another word.
“You are going to write a statement in triplicate,” I tell the assassin. “You’ll confirm that it was Fiora Di Maineri who hired you. You will use her name. You will state details. You will write everything down.”
“Why?”
“That’s my business.”
“What do I get for this? You already have your name,” the assassin snarls. “You won’t let me live.”
“No … but I can ensure that your brother gets a little … financial boost. Perhaps a mortgage document gets mysteriously but permanently lost, or a surprise windfall finds its way to his pockets…”
“You Di Maineris, always using your money to get your way.” The man scowls but takes the papers and the charcoal I offer him and starts to write. I step back in the dark and watch. Pulse itching, mind whirling, I wait and I plan.
That’s it. No more betrayals.
This ends now.
Chapter 38
The moon is baring her teeth as I arrive home. Violet claws crawl over the golden torches of my home, battling the dark onset as I march on.
I slam the front door behind me, the heavy wood shuddering in its frame. The sound echoes through the house like thunder.
“Renza? By Fate’s Fury, what happened?” Giulia comes running along the hall from the living room. Her blond hair ripples with the golden fingers of candlelight and her porcelain brow is carved into a deep frown. She is the only family in this world I can actually trust. The only one worth anything at all.
Over her shoulder, that traitor hovers in the living room doorway, a shallow crystal glass filled with wine in her hand. Her lips are a tight line as she studies me. Her back is poker straight, her knuckles turning white against the glass.
My stomach turns over. The need to scream builds in my lungs like an explosion. My fingers itch and my blood crashes like thunder in my ears.
I surge forwards.
“Renza, dear, you look—” Fiora starts, words daring to strike a scolding tone. The roar rips free from my teeth as I grab her, ramming her against the wall with all the force I can muster. The glass drops to the floor, shattering with a scream at our feet. Her head thumps satisfyingly against the plaster, her dark hair flying around her face.
Pain slips through her lips, the whimper mostly shock. She stares at me with wide eyes, her arms trembling under my hands.
“Renza! Renza, what is this?” Giulia stands at my side. She tries to place a hand on my shoulder, to create some distance between me and the traitor under our roof. I don’t move an inch.
“Three aunts descended on my home. All three were snakes lying in wait!” I spit, digging my nails into her bare shoulders and watching her wince. “You should’ve learned your lesson from your fallen sisters.”
Fiora shakes her head, her lips wrinkling with sorry determination. There’s no regret in her, only resignation.
“What did you do?” breathes Giulia. Pre-emptive anger bristles in the words.
“Idris…” His name is all I can choke out before the rage wraps a stranglehold around my throat again. Giulia stiffens behind me.
“I did it for you. To save you!” Fiora begins. My backhand cracks against her face so fast I barely see it. The force knocks my aunt to the floor, where she cowers amongst the glass fragments and spilled wine.
My hand races with stinging waves, but I crave the pain. The reddening of my palm is almost forgotten when I stare down this mockery of family. She scrabbles to pick herself up, the glass fragments scraping against the mosaic. She turns to look at me, her cheek turning vermillion as she looks up through her long dark tresses.
“He needs to die. It is Fate’s decree! Fate will take the life he is owed, one way or another,” Fiora insists. “It must be one of you, and I won’t let it be you!”
“You had no right!” I snarl.
“There is only so long that you can keep taunting Fate until it takes revenge. Until it comes for our family.” Fiora gets to her feet, her breath coming sharp and fast.
“You have to believe that,” I snap back. “It’s how you justify marrying your husband’s murderer. It absolves you of the guilt that must eat you alive, claiming that Fate forced you. That you had no choice. It’s Fate’s fault. So it’s okay to build a happy family in the puddle of your first husband’s blood.”
“Don’t you dare—!”
“Does Marino even know who his true father is? Or do you pretend even for him that there was never another? Do you justify your lies by blaming Fate? Does he know what really happened?”
Fiora’s face falls.
“You are not a cruel woman, Renza. This is heartless,” Fiora says, her tone bruised. I laugh.
“Says the callous killer.”
“I didn’t do this out of malice,” Fiora counters. “I bear Idris no ill will, but this family has to come first. You, my niece, are the one I care about. The one I must protect. You come first.”
“So you saw fit to murder him.”
