Page 7 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

A few small drops of blood stood out on the high collar of his white shirt. Mortal eyes wouldn’t have seen them, but I did. I reached forward and carefully moved the stiff collar to the side.

He had two small puncture wounds on his throat, the edges of the torn skin purple.

Letting go of the collar, I knelt and turned to the woman on the floor. The others were quiet as I scooped the hair away from her neck, my fingers brushing her ice-cold skin.

I found the same wounds on her throat.

Wounds I knew hadn’t been made by any weapon. Fangs had done this.

The Ascended had been drained of blood.

What the fuck?

If not for my confusion, I would’ve thought an Ascended—a vampry—dying in the manner so many of their victims did was highly ironic.

“Are the others the same?” I rose.

Hisa nodded. “The bite marks are the only wounds we’ve been able to find.”

“They’ve been drained of blood.” I stated the obvious because it needed to be said. “Which doesn’t make sense.”

“Exactly.” Naill stood in the entryway, his arms crossed.

A vampry’s blood held no value. The Ascended fed on each other for pleasure, but I’d never heard of an Ascended draining another’s blood to the point of death.

I glanced around the space. Beside the chair was a gilded table with an ashtray and a half-smoked cigar next to a wineglass. “How many Ascended were supposed to be in this home?”

“When we placed them into lockdown, there were four,” she answered, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword.

I frowned and turned to Hisa. “Someone got in and out under our watch?”

“Ma’lin and Vasilis were covering this home,” she said. “They said no one came in or out.”

I knew Kastor Vasilis. He was a wolven roughly Jasper’s age. Ma’lin? It took me a moment to put a face to the name. Nerina. She had been in the Crown Guard for many years.

“They also confirmed that the four we found dead this evening were alive this morning.” Hisa paused. “I believe them. I also believe those stationed at the other homes—where you will find the same.”

I nodded absently and turned. Crossing the space, I checked the Ascended in the bedchambers, finding what Hisa had said. “And none of them showed any signs of struggle?”

“No.” Naill shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Not even a scratch.”

I walked out of the bedchamber and jerked to a halt. My gaze swung to the two in the common area. I started to move, then turned back to the two before me. My eyes narrowed. “So, they died somewhere in the last ten to twelve hours.”

“I was wondering when you would realize the next utterly unexplainable event,” Emil said. “They haven’t turned. They’re not Craven.”

The Ascended were born mortal, so they weren’t immune to the effects any other mortal would experience if another Ascended drained their blood and didn’t destroy their heart or their head.

Even Atlantians—damn, even the gods —suffered similar fates, falling into bloodlust if drained of blood and left alive with no way to feed.

“None of them,” Naill confirmed. “And as Hisa said, we’ve found no other injuries—like broken necks.”

My mouth opened, but I was struck speechless. A broken neck wouldn’t kill an Ascended unless the spinal column was severed completely, thus preventing them from turning Craven.

None of this was possible.

I saw the same in the other two homes: All sources of light were blown, the Ascended were drained of blood, and no signs of a struggle nor evidence that anyone had entered or exited the homes was found. They even smelled the same—that sweet yet stale scent permeating the space.

“My first thought was that one of them had gone mad,” Emil said as we stood in the underground chambers of the third home.

It was just us, four dead Ascended, and some dead birds.

I stared at the metal birdcage.

The colorful winged creatures lay on shredded paper covering the floor. I had no idea what kind of birds they were.

Hisa and Naill had left to check in with the guards who were still searching the remaining Ascended’s homes.

“I know older Ascended can go some time without feeding, and we don’t know when any of them were turned, but when we realized that all of them were dead, and no one could’ve come in or gotten out?

” he said, looking around with a shake of his head.

“I can’t think of anything that would’ve done this. ”

“Neither can I.” I stared at the woman we’d found in a chaise with a book still open in her lap.

We had to be missing something.

“Unless someone—multiple someones—are lying,” Emil suggested, lifting a shoulder. “Look, none of us can say we’d be all that shocked if one of ours sought vengeance against them. And plenty would ignore it or even help, including some mortals. Which would also explain why they didn’t turn Craven.”

“It would.” An Atlantian’s bite wasn’t poisonous. A god’s? I had no idea. I would assume it wasn’t, but I couldn’t be sure since we had been misinformed and misled on so much. “But that doesn’t explain why there was no struggle.”

“I didn’t say my statement explained everything.” He picked up a leather-bound book from a stack of many and flipped it over. “Guess they were readers.”

I tasted the tartness of his confusion and wondered if it was only because we had no answers about how this had happened. “You okay?”

His gaze flew up to mine as he hastily set the book down. “Of course.”

I arched a brow. “You want to try answering that again?”

Emil opened his mouth, then closed it. His brows knitted as the tart taste of his confusion increased, and I knew it was something else—something deeper. “Something’s different about this house,” he said after a few moments. “In the other two homes, they had a chamber used to store blood.”

I’d seen the earthen chamber stocked with vials and packed with ice to keep the blood as fresh as possible. My lingering disgust from the sight returned as I wondered exactly how many had died to fill it. “It’s fairly common.”

“There’s been talk among some of the others about destroying their reserves,” Emil shared.

I’d heard that from Kieran, who had put a stop to the idea before anyone could act upon it.

That surprised me. Kieran had no love for the Ascended, barely even a thin veneer of tolerance.

The only thing I could come up with was that, like me, he didn’t want anything done to the Ascended until Poppy was awake and could voice her opinion on what to do with them.

I knew what I wanted to do with them.

“This house, though?” Emil said. “It doesn’t have one.”

My brows snapped together.

“We checked. They didn’t have a stock of blood in reserve.

” He scratched at his chin, shaking his head as he stared at the ceiling.

The sky was painted across the plaster in bright, sunny blues.

There was also a mural along the walls of the common area—a painting of the Sun Temple in Carsodonia, its golden walls glimmering in the sunlight. “Why?”

I couldn’t answer that.

Feeling my stare, he jerked his chin to the wall to his left. “I didn’t expect that.”

“The paintings?”

Emil nodded. “The books. The lack of blood on standby.” His gaze fell to the low table by the couch. “The game of chess left to be finished. The birds. It’s all so…”

“Normal?” I finished for him.

“Yeah. I didn’t expect that.” He laughed, the sound low and rough. “I don’t know what I expected. Maybe to discover that all the grandeur of their homes was nothing more than a facade. That when we went into their belowground chambers, we’d see that they lived like the monsters they are.”

I looked around the large, oval-shaped common area, its walls lined with books and smaller paintings. “The thing is, Emil, they don’t believe they’re monsters. Some have convinced themselves, despite knowing the truth, that they are blessed by the gods.”

Emil nodded once more. “Do you…?” He took a deep breath, then met my gaze. “Do you think it’s possible that some of them aren’t monsters?”

I pulled back slightly, my brows lifting.

“I mean, it’s not like they—the second sons and daughters—had a choice,” he quickly added.

“They weren’t raised knowing it was all a lie.

” Emil turned back to the mural, running a finger over the Temple’s golden spires.

“They must have known what would happen if they refused the Ascension: submit to the Blood Crown or die.”

“Wouldn’t death be a better choice when the other option is to become a part of the vicious cycle that has done nothing but take lives?” I asked. No sooner had the words left my mouth than I thought of Poppy’s brother, Ian. My jaw tightened.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Emil cleared his throat and turned from the mural. “Anyway, regarding what happened here… It’s almost as if a spirit entered these homes, sight unseen.”

My thoughts were still turning over what he’d said about the Ascended, but they ground to a halt as his statement registered.

Almost as if a spirit…

Sucking in a sharp breath, I stiffened.

“What?” Emil asked.

“I need to return to Wayfair.” And find the one person who could tell me if what I was thinking utterly missed the mark or was possible.

I needed to find Reaver.

Fuck my life.

Emil followed me into the night. I’d never thought it would be a relief to smell the air of Carsodonia, but it was then. That sweet yet stale stench lingered.

I walked off the veranda and lifted my hood when I spotted Naill and Hisa. “Have all the Ascended homes been checked?”

“Almost.” Hisa kept pace with Emil and me as we crossed the carriageway. “It will likely take us until the morning.”

Nearing the bench where Setti waited, I walked around the large urn. “I need to know if any more Ascended are found dead, or if anyone comes forward with infor—” About to step off the curb, I stopped suddenly. “—mation.”

“Cas?” Emil said.

I wheeled around and returned to the urn. It wasn’t empty. And I had a feeling the one I’d noticed outside the first home I’d entered wasn’t either.