Page 168 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Two

Riva

W ith a lurch of my heart, I hurtle straight to Dominic’s side. My hands thump against the transparent plastic shell covering the bed harder than I meant to, but Dom doesn’t so much as twitch.

He’s lying on his back, his light brown skin washed out to a sickly tone, his dark auburn hair loose from its usual short ponytail and strewn across the thin pillow.

His two thin, orange-brown tentacles jut from beneath the hospital gown he’s wearing to rest equally limp on either side of his slim frame.

Several medical electrodes cling to his body: a couple on his forehead, others on his neck and shoulders, and more wires snake from beneath the gown.

They lead through a small slot in the plastic shell to a boxy machine nearly as tall as I am that’s poised next to the head of the bed, dappled with blinking lights that mean nothing to me.

Tubes wind through the slot as well, reaching to his nose and mouth and a spot on his forearm. Delivering oxygen or medication or I don’t know what else.

My lungs constrict. For a second, horror grips me so tightly I forget how to breathe.

Then I catch the rise and fall of Dominic’s chest—subtle but visible beneath the gown.

He’s definitely still alive. Of course he’s alive, or all the medical equipment wouldn’t be necessary.

If he’s alive, then his body will gradually be healing, no matter what he’s been through. Right?

My other men have gathered around me, staring at Dominic with equal dismay.

Jacob’s head jerks around to seek out our guide. “What the fuck happened to him? What are we even doing here?”

To punctuate the sharpness of his tone, a sconce snaps off the wall overhead and careens into the ceiling before clattering to the floor. Jake doesn’t have the best control over his telekinetic ability when he’s upset.

The woman who escorted us here dips her head without any sign of concern and motions to the other end of the room. “My employer will explain that to you.”

For the first time, I really take in the space beyond Dominic’s bed.

Delicate paintings of leafy saplings and lightly clouded skies cover some of the walls beneath the high, beamed ceiling; the rest of the aged surface shines pale yellow.

More small tiles like in the hallway stretch across the floor in a pattern of spirals.

A huge glass chandelier dangles overhead, sparkling with the sunlight spilling through the arched windows.

Several of the many armchairs stand in a circle around a broad, boxy wooden table that looks oddly modern compared to the rest of the furnishings. The top of that table is lifting up with a soft mechanical whir to reveal a widescreen TV.

The moment the screen is fully upright, it flickers on. A man appears, sitting behind an elegant but sturdy wooden desk against a wall painted similarly to the ones around us.

A man who’s familiar for the same reason our escort is. He’s the one who stood over me when I lay aching next to the rolled truck.

The one who told the woman to shoot Dominic.

As my hands ball automatically, he leans his burly body forward with his elbows braced on top of the desk.

It’s hard to judge his size with nothing to use for a clear comparison, but he might be as big as Zian.

He’s built like a linebacker—a linebacker who’s been squeezed into a slick, slate-gray suit.

His athletic bulk combines with the rest of his features to make me think of a lion. A mane of thick hair, mostly gray but shot through with lingering streaks of tawny brown, drifts to just above his broad shoulders.

And his peering eyes… There’s a feral energy to their intensity that raises the hairs on the back of my arms even though he’s only present digitally.

His voice does nothing to dispel the impression, rolling from his lips in a throaty baritone. “Greetings, my shadowbloods. Welcome to your new home.”

My hackles rise automatically at the “my.” I don’t have the patience for small talk.

I step closer to the screen. “We didn’t ask to be stuck in someone else’s idea of a ‘home.’ Who the hell are you?”

The leonine man offers a smile with a flash of white teeth. “You can simply call me Balthazar. Mr. Balthazar, if you want to be polite about it. I’ve taken over control of the shadowblood project from the guardians who never got past silly diversions. You belong to me now.”

Andreas has tensed at the introduction. The name niggles at my memory in the brief moment before he speaks.

“You were part of the Guardianship, weren’t you?” he says. “Or you used to be—one of the founding families? They said you’d disappeared.”

Balthazar shows no reaction other than the slightest twitch of his gaze. “I have no current association with those fools. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you fulfill your purpose to the most impressive possible extent.”

His mouth stretches in a wider grin. A shiver passes over my skin.

He’s talking as if he thinks we’ll be happy to fulfill whatever he thinks our impressive purpose is.

Clancy, the former leader of the guardians, had big dreams too, but he always couched them in practical terms. Even at his most horrible, he maintained an air of military discipline and feigned compassion.

I’m getting the sense that the man in front of us now is utterly insane. Would that be better or worse?

The alarm bells blaring through my nerves are inclined to say worse.

Griffin is eyeing the screen, his mouth slanted at an uncertain angle. “What about Dominic? Is he recovering?”

“Why do you have him set up in the fucking living room?” Jacob demands, jumping in.

Balthazar waves a thick-fingered hand dismissively. “He is receiving the necessary treatment to maintain his current state.”

I can’t stop the words from bursting from my throat. “His current state? He looks like he’s in a coma!”

Balthazar’s slow blink only adds to the predatory vibe he’s giving off. “Indeed. And he’ll remain there, where you can check on him, to help motivate you. As long as you follow your orders, you can ensure the systems supporting him stay on.”

A chill sweeps through me. There’s no need to read between the lines—he’s outright saying that he’ll kill Dom if we don’t behave.

Zian stares at the screen. “You can’t just leave him like— We need him.”

He breaks off his protest with an anguished growl. My other men and the younger shadowblood stir restlessly around me.

But what can we do? We have no leverage here.

Yet.

This psychopath might think he owns us, but he’s more than insane if he thinks I’ll let him get away with his machinations for a second longer than I absolutely have to.

Unfortunately, Balthazar is already taking very obvious precautions. My pain-seeking banshee scream won’t do anything to an image on a screen, and neither will Jacob’s talents. Zee can’t unleash his wolf-man brutality on a man we can’t even reach.

Balthazar remains unmoved by Zian’s plea. “You can learn to function without him. His talents are not directly relevant to my interests, so he’s more useful as he is.”

My teeth grit, but I force my voice to come out even. “What about the other shadowbloods? There were three other kids with us when you found us—and you’ve obviously been to the island too.” We left Nadia and Ajax behind there when we left on Clancy’s last mission for us.

“You don’t need to worry about them either,” Balthazar says in the same nonchalant tone.

“I’ve taken all of the living shadowbloods into my custody, but it’s suited my plans to keep the majority of them at other locations.

Most of you here have shown initiative and proven the usefulness of your talents, so you’ve earned my direct attention. ”

I resist the urge to hug myself. His attention hardly feels like a reward. My fingers itch for my missing necklace, for the comfort of its rhythmic clicking when I snapped the charm open and shut, but I don’t want to ask this unknown enemy about it.

I don’t want him to realize how much it bothers me that he’s taken it away.

Griffin cocks his head. “ Most of us have earned it?” he repeats for clarification.

Balthazar smiles again, looking even more the carnivore. “I needed a couple extra bodies to serve as a demonstration. I assume you’ve wondered about the bracelets you’re wearing.”

I reach for the metal band on my left wrist, adjusting it where it clings to my skin. “And you’re going to tell us what they’re for, or leave it as a surprise?”

He chuckles softly. “I’m going to show you. For a less severe infraction, you’ll find yourself injected with a sedative that will knock you out almost instantly. Like so.”

The final syllable has only just left his lips when Nadia stumbles into me from behind. As I spin around, a choked sound spills from her mouth.

She falls to her knees, her shoulders already slumping. Booker cries out, leaping to her side—just in time to catch her sagging body before it crumples to the floor.

I crouch down with him and pat her face, my pulse racing. Her eyelids don’t so much as flutter.

My throat tight, I glance up at the others. “She’s out cold.”

“The sedative will wear off in a few hours,” Balthazar says from the screen. “If you breach the boundaries of this villa’s grounds, it will trigger automatically. Trusted members of my staff and I can also implement it at our will as well.”

I help Booker lower Nadia to the floor in as comfortable-looking a position as we can manage. As I push myself to my feet, holding back a quiver of rage, Jacob glowers at his own bracelets.

I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind as he imagines how he’ll use his talent to pry them off.

He’s shaken an entire mountain before. If anyone could do it, he could.

But Balthazar is clearly aware of our strengths—and our tendency to rebel. He smooths his hands across his desk. “If you attempt to remove the bracelets, you’ll set off the same effect—or provoke harsher consequences. This is what you can expect if you launch an attack on me or my people.”

That’s all the warning he gives us. The ominously vague threat has barely landed when a hissing sound cuts through the air.

We all flinch—and Lindsay shrieks.

Blood and the dark smoke of our shadowkind essence spurt from her forearms. Some mechanism in the bracelets has severed her flesh from her wrists to her elbows.

With a yelp, I throw myself at her. She’s already swaying as more blood gushes from her gaping arteries. Panicked pheromones flood my nose.

I clamp my fingers around one wrist, but it’s been gouged nearly in half as well. Her hand flops limply against my hold.

There’s no way I can hold the full incision shut. Blood drenches the mosaic tiles while shadowy essence clouds the air.

The other shadowbloods are shouting around me. I have no idea what to do other than keep holding on to Lindsay while she cries out.

Words tumble out of me—frantic attempts at reassuring her, as if there’s any way this situation can be okay. Zian grabs her other arm, but he can’t seal the wound any more than I can.

The only one of us who could save her is lying unconscious on the hospital bed by the wall.

Lindsay’s knees give. Her head droops, her face waxy pale.

Suddenly, I’m shouting too. “Stop it! You made your point. Help her!”

On the TV screen, our captor remains silent. The woman who brought us to the room stands beside the table, motionless.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jacob snarls at her. “Do something!”

His arm jerks up as if he’s going to yank her right over with his talent—but before he’s given her so much as a tug, he staggers on his feet. His eyes roll up as a potent dose of Balthazar’s sedative washes out his mind, and he slumps over on the ground.

My throat stings, raw and aching. I want to scream, but what would that accomplish? I’d end up sprawled unconscious on the floor with Jacob and Nadia, leaving Balthazar totally untouched.

Lindsay has crumpled too, her body slackening as it sinks into the pool of blood that coats the floor around her. Her eyes stare blankly at me, her lips parted as if she’s on the verge of asking me a question she’ll now never speak.

I swallow a sob, unable to convince my fingers to release her arm, as if I might still be able to pull her back.

That prick who thinks we belong to him decided her abilities weren’t useful enough? She was just a kid—she couldn’t have been more than fourteen.

And he cut off her life without so much as a blink, as if nothing mattered more than his sick demonstration.

Griffin has knelt next to Jacob, checking his pulse. A hand grips my shoulder, and I glance up in a daze to find Andreas leaning over me, his face tight with horror.

Balthazar’s voice carries from the screen as calmly as if this was a standard job orientation meeting.

“You see that I have the means to easily keep you in line if necessary. For the time being, you have free run of most of this property, but you will obey any requests made by myself or my primary staff, Toni and Matteo.”

I glance over at the screen, fury searing through my chest.

Our captor is gazing at us with that fucking smile curving his cruel mouth. “What we’re doing here is far from a game, and I trust that you understand now that I’m not playing around.”