Blood Chained (Dark Siren Book 3) Read online

  “What if I bring you the Heart? That is what this is all about, isn’t it? The Siren’s Heart has been the key from the beginning.”

  “It’s too dangerous, Kalista. You are not ready.”

  “Help me, Wes.” Angst swirled through Kali’s innards, brewing thick as it flooded to the surface. Kali allowed it. “If you ever cared about me…help me get Rhane back. I love him.”

  Wes sank against the desk and closed his eyes, shaking his head weakly. “We may both die in this.”

  “He’s worth it. You would not have risked so much already if he wasn’t.”

  He met her gaze with anguished eyes. “Those risks were for you.”

  “You care about me.” Kali stood up, went to his side. “And despite everything, I still care greatly for you.” She touched his cheek. Her eyes roamed every inch of his face. They were searching for the creature called a Builder, but only saw the blond-haired, blue-eyed man who always smiled when he saw her. “Wesley, you’re my oldest friend.”

  His mouth tightened, turning white at the corners. Both hands gripped the edge of the desk, shaking with strain.

  “Help me,” Kali whispered.

  Chapter 8

  York slammed his fist against the countertop. “You did what?” He was beyond mad. He was livid. “We had a deal, Kali.”

  The two of them were alone in the kitchen. The others had retreated to the living room and now feigned interest in various pursuits, but Kali knew they were actually listening quite closely to the tongue-lashing she was receiving. She wasn’t so sure about Bailen. Napping on an oriental rug, the canine not so much as twitched an ear when York started shouting. Thinking it best to postpone introductions until after tempers had cooled, Dmiri had gone to wait somewhere within the manor’s borders.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Kali said, though she had already apologized at least half a dozen times. “That was before I knew Wesley was a part of this.”

  “Then you’re not sorry.”

  A seriously large vein throbbed at the side of York’s forehead. Kali hadn’t noticed it before. Then again, she was pretty sure she’d never seen him this angry. She exhaled slowly. “No. I guess not.”

  “Un-freaking-believable.”

  “Is it really?” Kali stood up from the table. She was tired of getting yelled at, but for the past five minutes, it was the only thing York had done. “After eighteen years of being in the dark about one of the closest people in my life, I finally find out the truth. He also happens to be the only chance we have at getting Rhane back. But you’re surprised that I went to see him?”

  “No. I’m surprised you went to see him without me.”

  It was her turn to get mad. “Why would I come to you, York? You’ve known all this time what Wesley truly was and you never told me.”

  “That’s not the same. I was under orders.”

  “Exactly. You were under orders. But Rhane’s not here. So whose orders are you following now?”

  A small fissure spread through the granite surface where York’s grip tightened onto the counter ledge. Kali raised an eyebrow. “You might want to let go of that.”

  York glanced down. Still frowning, he lifted his hands away and spread them wide in the air. With a disgusted grimace, he shook his head. “Look. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. But there were reasons. Good ones.”

  “Like what?” Kali folded her arms and relaxed against the fridge. Her ire had faded as quickly as it’d come. “Were you afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle it? That I would freak out, go psycho siren, shoot flames and cry uncontrollably?”

  He shrugged almost sheepishly. “Well…yeah. I guess so.” He scratched his head. “We thought you couldn’t handle it.”

  “York.” She pronounced his name gently, stepping close enough to rest her hands on his thickly muscled forearms. “I get it. I really do. A year ago, I probably couldn’t have handled it. But I’m different now. I felt a lot of things when I found out—hurt, confusion, shock, disappointment. And of course I was angry. But only for a little while. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t tell me. It doesn’t matter that Rhane didn’t tell me. What matters is we have someone in our corner now who can help us.”

  “Do you really think we can trust him?”

  She shook her head sadly. “No. But we have to start somewhere.”

  “Okay. Can we start with you keeping me in the loop from here on out?”

  At the question, Kali subconsciously gnawed her lip. When she noticed the way York narrowed his eyes, she stopped. Too late.

  “What is it?” he said. “Tell me.”

  Making a mental note to apologize later for heaving Bailen under a moving bus, Kali took a breath and sold the canine out. “Somehow Bailen knew what was happening. He brought someone—one of the Kindred—with us to meet Wesley.”

  “Matthias is supposed to stick with you. It’s kinda his job. That’s one reason he’s not in here getting yelled at with you.”

  “Uh…I wasn’t talking about Matthias.”

  York rubbed his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  Patting his shoulder affectionately, she pulled on her most charming smile. “You’re a likeable guy. He’s a likeable guy. I don’t see why you two wouldn’t hit it off.”

  York glared at her darkly.

  “Okay.” Kali winced. “Did I mention it was Bailen’s idea to bring him in on this?”

  His frown became a bit less severe. “Remind me to never get sent to the principal’s office with you,” he said and playfully thumped one of her curls. “You haven’t told me what the Builder has to offer.”

  “I know. I thought it best to cross that bridge after you’d met Dmiri.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You might need a little convincing.”

  “I’m really not going to like this.”

  “Nope. Not a chance.”

  #

  Once upon a time, a pastoral life dominated Warekin civilization. Common people inhabited the plains, while those of royal blood dwelled in surrounding mountains. But Warekin were ever forward thinkers. As the world advanced, so had they. Outposts were built. Desert cities were designed to absorb growing populations, pursue trade with other nations, and house scientists and architects who strove to advance their culture beyond the warrior and farming lifestyle. The Great War, Gabriel’s war, had weakened Warekin society. But the massacre had been the final blow. With no army to protect them, cities had died off, overrun by barbarian hordes of supernatural origins. Remaining survivors assimilated into surrounding cultures.

  There were parts of Warekin civilization that remained almost untouched within in Golden Mountain. Royal blood lines steadfastly upheld the old ways, but at the same time, kept moving forward. The Halls of Old Mother were the epitome of the harsh juxtaposition of cultures Rhane’s people had adopted.

  Throughout the mountain chain, nature had formed caverns of various sizes, ranging from the square footage of a small bedroom, to vast spaces large enough to house three city blocks. The Halls housed some of the largest areas. Ceilings were rounded and polished smooth. Artificial lighting had been added, glowing orbs encased by a framework of gold, bronze, and silver metals. Patterned glass and steel plates tiled the floors. White-washed rock formed walls. Vertical columns, sculpted from natural rock, united floor and ceiling near doorways and along most walls, drawing the eye with their intricately detailed carvings.

  Fresh off the grueling purification ceremony orchestrated by his father and Gareth, Rhane felt and smelled like a stranger in his own skin. Only a centimeter of hair saved his scalp from complete baldness. The rest of him was shorn hairless. He’d been scrubbed to the verge of losing flesh. His nails were clipped to the quick. Next came the distilling bath of incense, followed with another of valerian root to restore internal harmonies perceived as corrupted by imbalances of the outside world. Clothed in only a cloak of thin linen, Rhane kneeled against the cool ma
rbled floor and waited for the Mothers to appear.

  It wasn’t long before three women floated onto the stage like spirits. Their poise was regal. Their faces were beautiful but possessed an austere lack of emotion. Identical ice blue eyes and white-blonde hair were features shared between them.

  Seppina. Jethra. Coren. The Mothers. The power behind the ruling triumvirate. If Rhane could prove his father’s theories correct, then just maybe the nightmare would end. Warren would be safe. And he could go home to Kalista. His heart thudded harder with the thought.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  He focused on exuding the proper amount of reverence, making slight adjustments in body language to show submission to their will and presence. It wasn’t easy. Rhane hadn’t kneeled before anyone in centuries. But it helped to have his father beside him.

  Led by Seppina, the Mothers affirmed his right to be within their chambers in cascading notes. “Rhane of Whytetree.”

  “Son of Jehsi, Prime of Warekin.”

  Coren finished. “Vessel of Banewolf.”

  Rhane dipped his head lower, keeping his gaze averted to the floor. “Old Mother of Silas, Prime of Greinwysh, Mother of Jehsi, Prime of Whytetree, and Mother of Cale, Prime of Greinwysh, you honor me with your graces.”

  “Thank you, child.” Robes of silk rustled lightly as the women took position on three metallic thrones, laced with bronze, silver, and golden framework. Seppina’s seat was the most prominent, and she continued to speak as the others fell silent. “Why have you come to us? You have been tried and found guilty of war crimes, treason, and murder. Our kin still wear the scars you left behind.”

  “I serve a heavy sentence, Old Mother. I hope through it some of those scars may be healed.”

  Coren’s voice lashed out like a whip. “Your suffering will never be enough to heal us.”

  Dropping his head a fraction lower, Rhane fell silent. The Old Mother spoke again. “Surrendering to the will of the Primes and beginning penance for your sins gives us great faith. I ask again. Why have you come before us?”

  “I want to save what’s left of our people. A great darkness has taken hold of this mountain.”

  “What sort of darkness?”

  “My father has spoken his suspicions regarding Silas and Cale. I can assure you those uncertainties are well-founded. Four centuries ago, Silas and Ptolen conspired to murder Jehsi. They aligned themselves with rogues, letting those creatures massacre our people and burn our villages. Their actions began a ripple of events that ended with the death of my son, Rhaven. My mate was saddled with blame for their crimes.” Rhane steadied himself with a slow breath. “The Primes were working with rogues then. And they continue to do so now. We have no army, so they use the rogue horde as soldiers, the legs and feet of a scheme to overtake the human world. The Primes seek to resurrect an era ruled by royal blood, to take this earth away from humans. To do so, they need several key artifacts. But their actions will ultimately unleash a monster like this world has never seen. The casualties will be devastating, and the losses to this world unacceptable. There will be nothing left for Primes to rule.”

  “Those are serious charges to level against your Primes.”

  “They are the truth.”

  “What proof does he have?” Coren’s tone was a razor-edged challenge. “These are but words.”

  She had not addressed him directly, so Rhane did not speak. To do so would be considered an act of defiance. Seppina’s voice resolved the dilemma. “Do you have proof?”

  “I have. The siren was found hiding in the southern states. She has told me everything—the plot against my father, how Silas and Ptolen planned to have her execute him, who was really responsible for massacre and why she had to run. She admitted to killing Ptolen. He was about to murder three Warekin children, the only eyewitnesses to his crimes.”

  Coren scoffed. “The word of a siren is your proof? That creature is an abomination.”

  “I have the children. They have nearly reached maturity. Warren is only one of them.”

  “He claims no memory of events from the massacre. Do the others?”

  “He doesn’t. And no.” His shoulders and neck were beginning to tremble with the effort of staying bowed. It wasn’t that his muscles were tiring. Submission to their dated system and tainted government went against every fiber of his nature. “Will you hear the reason?”

  “Please.”

  “Beings of legend, the master race who built all others, they are real. The siren was created for a greater cause. But when the treachery of our Primes threatened that cause, Builders took her and wiped all memory of the massacre from the children’s minds.”

  With a vicious laugh, Coren clapped one…two…three times. “This is preposterous.”

  In a calculated risk, Rhane lifted his head and directly beheld the Mothers for the first time in four centuries. Since ascending to her new position, Coren’s skin seemed to have paled almost enough to match the white hair curtained about her thin shoulders. Her eyes were icier—two glaciers in an alabaster sea. She laughed, while Seppina looked on with open disapproval. Jethra, wordless throughout the hearing, wore no expression.

  One by one, they noticed Rhane’s eyes upon them. He knew that with the passing of time, many things had changed about him. He was older, stronger, and wiser. But his eyes—orbs cursed with the color of bane silver—had remained the same.

  Evidently, the Mothers had forgotten them. Coren hissed as her entire body recoiled. Seppina emitted a startled gasp and drew herself upright. But for the ghost of a smile hinting at her lips, only Jethra remained unmoved.

  Rhane met the Old Mother’s surprised look with an unblinking stare. Then he rose to his feet. After a moment, he heard the echo of Jehsi’s boots against marble as he also stood behind him. “I’ll tell you another truth. These words were already known to you.”

  Seppina’s eyes narrowed in warning. “You traverse dangerous ground, Banewolf. Your father came to us, begging for mercy. Now you repay our goodwill with unfounded accusations.”

  “But they are not unfounded. Are they?”

  The Old Mother’s white skin darkened to a rather bright shade of pink. Coren looked particularly unstable, ready to explode. Jehsi waited serenely, hoping with all his heart that Rhane’s gamble would be successful. With good providence, Gareth had secured a place within Warren’s guard. So if a mandate was given to destroy the boy, the guide could intervene, lead him to a defensible position and hold off capture until Rhane and Jehsi could fight a way to them. But they were four to four hundred. Plan B would be a bloodbath, probably get them all killed, and was therefore a last resort.

  Rhane continued in the Mothers’ silence. “I knew our Primes were corrupt. The evidence of their betrayal was unavoidable. But when my father confessed knowledge of the caverns within the Gobi outpost, all other pieces fell into place. If the Primes knew, the Mothers knew also. You know the secret of our origins and the reality of the Builder race. Your very nature brings your cause in union with that of our Primes. You all strive for purity, for control. You want what they want. And you’ll do anything to get it, including the genocide of your own people.”

  “Enough!” Seppina roared. The air rippled with waves of power as she rose from the throne in a cloud of fury. “You do not know what you speak of!”

  “Your son and grandson hold two of three positions within the ruling triumvirate. Coren, the wife of your son and mother of your grandson, sits alongside you as Mother. Only the line of Whytetree stands in your way. We always have. If only Ptolen and Silas had been successful in killing Jehsi, your bid for power would have already succeeded without resistance.”

  “This is your final warning.” White sparks crackled like lightning at Seppina’s fingers. Between them charged a current strong enough to stop even a superhuman heart.

  “Rhaven was just a boy. He played in your arms. He trusted you. How could you hurt him? Was his blood not pure enough to survive your m
adness?”

  The Old Mother’s eyes went blood red with ruptured capillaries. Tears spurted as she gnashed her teeth in anguish. “I warned her!” she shouted, turning her fury on Jethra. “I warned her so she could save him.” The lightning in her hands intensified. “His death falls on your head. Damn you all, Whytetree.”

  “Seppina, control yourself.” Jethra rose from her throne with a calmness that rivaled her sister’s fury. “This is not our way.”

  Rhane and Jehsi looked back and forth between the two women. Neither was sure of what would come next. Coren’s involvement had been a certainty and Seppina’s almost without question. But Rhane nor Jehsi had imagined that Jethra could have betrayed her own son by plotting his murder. It was a huge miscalculation. If all three Mothers were against them, there was nothing left to stand on. Both men readied themselves. Plan B was about to detonate into action.