Pack of Wolves, page 12
“Vibría,” Siri whispers, her eyes as wild as a deer that senses a predator is near. Lerual whimpers at the word, shaking her head in her terror.
“What’s a Vibría?” I question lamely, wishing I could do more than bring more agony to my Ddraig by asking questions. “I’m sorry, but I need to understand, Siri. Help me—”
“I thought they were all dead.” Lerual’s voice trembles, her eyes turning hopeful as she waits for Siri to respond. “Surely by now, after all this time….”
“The Vibría are an abomination,” Siri sniffs, hovering over our campsite. I assume that by staying in the air, she’s trying to keep our conversation away from the others who are milling around the campsite. “Another thread of Déchets’ cruelty.” Siri shakes her head, large tears welling in her eyes. They gush toward the ground, drenching any and all creatures who are unlucky enough to be below my Ddraig as she cries. Her words dry up with her grief, and my heart aches as I wish I could take whatever sorrow she feels away from her.
“The land over the Devil’s Spine once had Ddraigs too, Iris.” Lerual’s thin voice barely reaches me, but in her words, I can hear the torture of unspent grief. “It’s been many years now, but their loss is still a black mark in our memories.”
“Those Ddraigs were murdered!” Siri howls, silver fire bursting to life in the sky over my tent. “The king of that time employed magicians who conjured and dabbled in the occult at his whim. When his lust for our lands finally reached its peak, he sent for his magicians, demanding that they find a means of overpowering our side of the Devil’s Spine. The magicians decided that the best means of attack was with their Ddraigs.”
“But those Ddraigs, our distant brethren, were much harder to control. They were not interested in finding Cadogans and submitting to the rule of another. They wanted their independence.” Lerual swallows, closing her sunflower eyes as she rushes through the rest of the explanation. “In their quest to overpower the Ddraigs, a magician killed one. We don’t know if it was accidental or experimental. Either way, he must have tried to use his magic to revive the poor creature, and instead, he discovered a far more terrible way to ensnare them. As long as the Ddraig’s complete life essence had not drained out of its heart, the heart could be spelled to keep beating. The magician could tie his fate to the heart, giving him unnatural strength and power…and longevity, it would seem.”
“They killed their Ddraigs, Iris. Massacred every winged creature on their side of the mountains, all for the sake of their own greed. They drank the blood of the fallen ones, and it also gave these magicians uncanny abilities to change their shapes. They can shift to become whatever they wish: Ddraig, animal, even taking the appearance of another human being.”
“That version of myself—the one that I saw in your memory just now,” I mutter, eyes growing wide. “That was one of them, wasn’t it?” That creature is pretending to be me, dying over and over in front of Cyrus. The very idea makes my stomach churn in revulsion. He won’t survive long under such treatment, I admit, painfully recognizing that I sent Cyrus to this danger. How did it get to him? Why didn’t Suryc keep him away from that monster?
Siri roars, and for the first time I am grateful for the mental shield she’s placed between us. I don’t think I could face another problem right now. “Yes, Iris, your suspicions are correct. The magicians took on a new name—forsaking their claim to the human race, they created the species Vibría.” Siri hangs her head, whispering, “And now, one of those creatures is with Cyrus. Your precious Wolf is trying to use him to break Cyrus’s mind—and Suryc fears he is succeeding. Can you imagine how bad it could be for us if that monster learns about our whereabouts? What if he finds Suryc? We’ve got to go help them right now!”
“Hang on! Wolf wouldn’t do such a terrible thing,” I exclaim, immediately feeling a sliver of doubt splinter its way into my confidence. No, I reason as I consider Wolf’s previous character, he wouldn’t start working with Déchets just because he hates his brother. Would he? “It could be some kind of trap. How do we know that what you’ve seen is the truth? And how do we know that you aren’t somehow channeling my Gwen abilities and seeing something from the future?”
“Do you really want to risk it?” Siri growls, swiveling her head until one furious silver eye focuses squarely on me. “You’d ask me to gamble on your hopes that Wolf’s not as bad as past history suggests, all because you say so? Suryc called to me in desperation and fear, Iris! He’d never lie to me! Would you truly ask me to leave Suryc unprotected? Are you so cold hearted that you’d sacrifice Cyrus, all for the sake of your pride?”
Of course not! I demand indignantly, even as I wonder if there is any truth in Siri’s accusations. I wouldn’t do that…would I? “Fine. Lerual, go to Drake and the nomads. Tell them that we are going to my old house. They are not to leave this place until we come back for them—make sure they know that. Then, send Enomena and her Ddraig after us; she can act as our go between until we can return to you all.” Lerual bobs her head with a pity-filled glance at my Ddraig before veering off to follow my orders.
Siri wastes no time, expertly swerving her flight pattern in the direction of the House of Vultures. The thought of returning to Wolf should bring joy to my heart. Instead, the idea of being near him once more chills my blood. How can I ever look at him and not remember the visions from the Carreglas? The way he tortured his brother, so brutal, so merciless, and so excited by the pain he inflicted. And Cyrus—how can I look him in the eye, knowing he truly was once the only source of joy and life in my childhood days? His past doesn’t erase the hell he put me through, yet I cannot deny that my opinion of him has changed slightly for the better.
“What else have you seen, Siri?” I demand, wondering how often she and Suryc have relayed messages to one another since their separation. Did she tell them how I am floundering as a leader? Does Cyrus know that I’m failing? Does he realize that he was right to take the House of Vultures from my grasp? I’d have screwed it up even worse than he did.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Siri assures me, her voice gruff as she struggles against a gusting wind. “There’s not been much time to talk about you at all, Iris. Mostly, Suryc’s been brooding over Cyrus. He’s putting himself in grave danger, all to try and please you.” Siri’s voice turns harsh as she growls, “Suryc won’t leave him, but the torture his Cadogan’s enduring is hurting him too. My love is suffering, Iris.”
Though she does not say it, I can hear the unspoken blame in her voice—and the unmentioned threat. I’m the cause of all this trouble; if something happens to Suryc, will Siri forgive me? Or will she blame me? Would she hate me? Disown me? Hunt me? I gulp as I hunker down against her back. Carefully I brush the edges of the breeze, subtly spinning its flow until we are no longer fighting against the wind. Faster, faster! I urge it to blow, hoping that we will make it to the House of Vultures in time to save Cyrus and Suryc.
***
“I have to admit, you’ve lasted longer than I expected,” Wolf confesses as he pulls a tiny fishbone from his mouth. His lips smack in satisfaction while Cyrus observes the meal without eating. A meager plate of stale bread and stew sits before him, but Cyrus cannot force his hands to reach for the spoon. “My new friend is even surprised by your strength. I was assured that you would not last an hour under his thrall, and you’ve managed an entire day.”
Holy gods, only a day? Cyrus shudders at the revelation, his spine crackling straighter with his anxiety. What horrible future does tomorrow hold? How long can I watch Iris suffer? How many times must I endure her death? Cutting his eyes to observe Wolf, Cyrus struggles not to heave as he remembers the events of their last encounter. I saw your true feelings toward Iris, brother. You say you love her, and yet you would harm her too. The violent streak inside you is turning even against her.
“No questions?” Wolf murmurs dejectedly as he piles more food onto his plate. “I felt sure you would at least wonder what kind of creature my new friend is. His shapeshifting powers are beyond compare, aren’t they? And the way he sees down to your very soul—such a rare and amazing talent, isn’t he?” Wolf compliments the monster with an edge of envy in his voice. “What I wouldn’t give for such an ability!”
Iris—the real Iris—is alive and well with Siri and the rest of the Ddraigs. She did not die on my lap, she was not reborn into some gruesome wraith, and she is not in love with Wolf. Everything I’ve endured so far has been a lie. Cyrus’s mind replays these thoughts, desperately attempting to soothe his nerves. I feel raw, like I am quaking, body and soul—like my consciousness teeters on the brink of a steep cliff, and if I fall down into those depths, I will never return to this life.
“You’re not eating, little brother. Going on a hunger strike?” Wolf chuckles as he rips off a drumstick from the baked chicken plated beside the fish filet. “That solves nothing—you realize that, right?”
Cyrus doesn’t answer, nor does he lift his hand to feed himself. It’s too much effort even to breathe. A storm of howling rage and terror wells inside Cyrus’s heart—it takes every ounce of strength he has left just to keep from screaming. Wolf clatters a knife on a battered plate, grunting in frustration when Cyrus doesn’t react.
“I actually liked you better when you were fighting with me. Now you’re just pathetic!” Wolf grumbles as he stands and slides his chair closer to his brother. He tears large chunks of bread from Cyrus’s plate, drowning them in broth before holding them up to Cyrus’s lips. “Either you take it willingly, or I force it down your throat. You decide.”
It takes a level of strength Cyrus did not think he possessed to open his mouth and remain silent. He doesn’t react to the flavorless, gummy food as Wolf shoves it down his throat. His teeth don’t even crush the bread before he swallows it. Wordlessly, Wolf pulls bits of chicken off his own plate, adding them to Cyrus’s stew.
“Come on now,” Wolf mumbles as Cyrus sips from the outstretched spoon. “You need your strength!”
“Why are you doing this?” Cyrus’s voice rasps, a single tear slipping down his cheek as Wolf stirs more meat into his meal. “I don’t understand. Why are you being kind?”
“Oh, it’s not kindness,” Wolf replies as he holds out more bread. “It’s entirely selfish, really. If you starve yourself, I don’t get to break you. As long as your body is intact, I can have my fun.”
“You are a fool,” Cyrus croaks, broth dribbling down his chin as he spits out the contents of his mouth.
Wolf stills, eyeing the knife beside his plate with dangerous intent. “Think carefully on what you say, brother.”
“Or what? You’ll beat me? Or send that creature back here to torture me again?” Cyrus chuckles then, his tentative resolve shattering. Smiling wickedly at Wolf, he continues. “Those are empty threats, Wolf, castrated by the events of the day. I have persevered against your monster, and I know what you want. But I do not fear it—oh no! I will embrace the moment when my mind breaks! I run toward the day when I am free of this wretched life!” Cyrus’s voice grows shrill, his eyes wild as he thrashes in his chair, cackling hysterically as the binds cut into his wrists. The sight of his own blood only increases his laughter. “You seek to watch me lose my mind, but I only see freedom in the breaking! Even in that moment when I lose my sanity, you will not find what you desire in my eyes. I will finally be at peace, all thanks to you! So, how does it feel, knowing that you are working to send me to a fate that I already long for?”
Wolf observes his brother with a small frown. “Perhaps my new friend has been successful today after all.”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Cyrus inquires, a heaviness suddenly weighting his limbs. Some of the larger wounds on his chest crack open and ooze, burning when air hits the exposed flesh. “Your obsessive nature is eating you alive. First Fox turns his back on you, and I suspect Iris will too before it’s over. She will recognize your smothering personality long before you ever get the chance to quench her soul. She’ll wise up and leave you, and then what will you do?”
“Iris will fall down on her knees before me, grateful for everything I’ve done in vengeance,” Wolf bellows as he raises the knife, slamming it hard into the table and rattling the plates. “When she finally comes back to me, she will rejoice in knowing that your last days were full of torture, madness, and tears.”
“Your conviction in your words just proves how little you truly know her,” Cyrus whispers coldly, his eyes beginning to droop. The shock and fatigue of his injuries drains his energy rapidly. “She will come to loathe you,” Cyrus whimpers as exhaustion begins to shut down his mind, forcing him to rest.
“And she’ll always hate you,” Wolf fires back, but a tremor of doubt looms over his words like a dark shadow. Rising abruptly from his chair, he dashes away from the ruined house, considering the veracity of his brother’s claims.
Cyrus, Suryc begs through their mental connection, please don’t give up on this life. It would break my heart to have found my Cadogan only to lose you so soon.
“You and Iris are the only good things in my life,” Cyrus mutters as his chin drops against his chest. “I make no promises, Suryc, but I will try.”
Chapter 9
Cyrus jerks awake in the wee hours of darkness, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Who’s there?” His teeth chatter as his eyes dart around the room, and while he cannot see anyone yet, he is certain that he is not alone. “I can feel you here. Who are you?”
Falcon’s grey, blood-flecked mask looms in the shadows. Her long whip snakes along the ground, twitching impatiently like a cat’s tail does when the creature wants food. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment,” she admits, her furious voice grating to his ears.
Cyrus pales at the sight, straining against his binds and searching for a means of defense. “You’re dead. I was strung up by your rotten corpse only yesterday.” It’s a dream…it’s that thing. No matter how many times Cyrus repeats this mantra, another voice overpowers him. It doesn’t matter what it is—it can still hurt me!
“Sign over my place in the traitor binds said I would return, didn’t it? Well, here I am!” Falcon cackles, her whip cracking in the air as she steps closer. “Who said I was alive now?” A beam of moonlight gleams through the window on Cyrus’s left. Falcon slinks over to it, standing tall and proud in its ethereal light. “I’ve come to collect a debt from you, old friend.”
“I owe you nothing,” Cyrus shivers, his voice wavering. Suryc! She’s going to kill me! Help!
“Liar!” Falcon roars, her whip biting through Cyrus’s already fragile skin. “You played me for a fool! You used my gifts, abused my love, and in the end, you rejected me. I was good to you, wasn’t I? Say it!”
“You were the best,” Cyrus screams in terror as he beholds her broken body. Falcon lifts her crooked fingers to remove her mask, revealing her tortured face. Her eyes are gone, plucked out by the carrion birds. Her lips are tight and etched with tiny lines that surround her gaping mouth. Blue gums hold her few remaining shaky teeth in place. Falcon’s major organs are visible, dangling from the wound at her belly, swaying as she skulks closer to her former leader’s side.
“Please, no!” Cyrus whimpers, cringing as he watches Falcon’s arm raise high over her head, preparing to swing her whip. Bits of loose skin slip away from gleaming white bone. Her dead joints grind and pop with every movement she makes.
“Not so brave now, are you?” Falcon asks as her whip bites into Cyrus’s face, crisscrossing the scar already running down his cheek. “But then, you were never tough, were you? I handled all your dirty deeds while you sat moon-eyed over a woman who barely tolerated your existence.”
“Falcon, I’m sorry,” Cyrus pleads, his wrists bleeding steadily while he tries in vain to rip his arms free of the straps that tether him to the chair.
Falcon sneers, flicking her whip across Cyrus’s chest. “You use my masked title. Did you even know my true name? Did you ever take a single second out of your day to find out anything real about me?”
Cyrus bows his head dejectedly, his voice grim as he whispers, “I needed you to—”
“I loved you. All that time that you were pining for Mynah, and I was waiting for you! When you told me that you didn’t love me, I was devastated.” Falcon leans close to Cyrus’s face, reaching up to brush his sweat-soaked skin.
“No, Falcon! Get away from me!” Cyrus rocks against his chair, praying he can somehow elude the wraith’s clutches. A living nightmare—one that can kill or maim me at will. I cannot escape this monster, Suryc!
It’s not real, Cyrus! Suryc howls in empathy even as a tremor of revulsion prickles his scales. You’ve got to fight—
That telltale, isolating barrier rises up between Cyrus and his Ddraig, cutting Suryc’s words short.
“You broke my heart. Now it’s my turn to take yours right out of your chest!” Falcon laughs as she rains blows from her whip, each one striking a little harder. She reaches forward, her fingers grasping at his chest, digging into his open wounds. She picks at the skin, stretching each cut wider, as if she is searching for the best place to reach inside and make good on her threat.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Cyrus screams as white-hot agony rips through his wounds as though she is flaying him alive. “I never wanted to hurt you!”
Falcon stops suddenly, her shape morphing as her lips become full and supple. Her hair lengthens and returns to Iris’s luminous white strands. In the moonlight, it practically glows. Cyrus breathes a sigh of relief and horror as he waits to see what new torture this monster plans to inflict upon the visage of his greatest love.
“I want to tell you a secret,” the creature exclaims as she shrinks to be Iris’s height. “I secretly love watching you scream. That’s why I came back tonight—not because Wolf sent me here, but because I like hurting you. You’re so…expressive.” She plops onto Cyrus’s lap, leaning down to kiss his neck.
