Page 22 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

He’d die, too. For some horrifying, unexplainable reason, that scared me. Like the thought of him dead was inconceivable, it couldn’t happen. An hour ago, I thought about stealing his sword and killing him. But now, with death staring him in the face, I didn’t want him to die. Why ?

I glanced at his sword near the tree, thinking foolish things. No. Just no. If they died, I could escape, find Magda, and then my mom. They needed to die.

But if the Hellhounds lived, I’d die.

The hound snapped at the prince, going for his legs. He jumped back, hands erupting in blue flames. That seemed to pause the hound briefly before it attacked his legs with renewed vigor, forcing him to back up.

But why go for the prince’s legs and expose its neck when it was tall enough for more vital strikes? The Hellhound didn’t even make contact. What was it doing?

Movement to the side captured my attention.

“Aspen, watch out!” I yelled.

Damn it! Why was I helping him?

He pivoted at the last second, a claw snagging his elbow as he turned, and the two hounds collided. They fell into a pile of tangled bones and shadows. The prince, not giving them a chance to recover, punched them with his flaming fist, leaving charred marks on their muzzles.

I officially had a new definition of crazy and hated myself for helping him.

I’d never escape.

He boxed with two sharp-toothed, fire-breathing, steam-snorting hounds crafted of sharp bones and wispy shadows, blurring as he pivoted and ducked, smashing his fists into any and every part of their bodies. Aspen luscelered around, which meant he was an angel or at least part and untouchable.

Almost .

One Hellhound sank its teeth into his arm before he dodged it. In turn, he grabbed ahold of the Hellhound’s jaw, obliterating it and the rest of its head.

Heavenly shit.

He was lethal. I mean, I assumed. But to see it, to know he was the one holding me captive.

My stomach rolled. I needed to escape. With them distracted, this may be my only shot.

So what if there was a chance I’d die in the forest?

At least I’d have a chance, as minuscule as it was, better odds than staying with them.

With my forearms and some interesting wiggling, I pushed back toward the front of the carriage. No one noticed me or even glanced at me the entire time they fought.

Almost out, I ducked under the front axle at the moment something sharp stabbed into my legs.

I screamed, clawing into the dirt as a Hellhound dragged me.

Blinding agony shot up my legs, and I scrambled for the harness of the dead horses, latching on.

I shrieked and immediately let go, unable to win the game of tug-of-war with it tearing the flesh in my thighs. It continued to drag me.

My Glory prickled.

Gravel and dirt scraped against my palms until we stopped. Pain speared up my spine as the Hellhound released me, swiping at my side to flip me over. Blood seeped into my joggers with each pound of my erratic heart as I met red sentient globes of death.

The Hellhound licked the yellowing bones of its muzzle.

I squirmed back, whimpering. It followed with slow, measured movements as if liking the game and knowing I wasn’t going anywhere without the ability to stand.

Still, I shoved back foot by foot until it took one long stride and stepped onto my rib cage.

Pressure compressed my chest, and like it thought I needed more pain, the Hellhound sank its claws into my sides.

Breathless screams ripped from my lungs.

Its nails twitched, digging deeper, and blood spread into my flimsy t-shirt.

A long, skinny tongue shot out and lapped at all the glistening red.

It moaned in pleasure, lapping quicker. Like a drug addict seeking more drugs, it jerked back on its claws, shredding, digging, and slurping up more of my blood. Agony worked its way up my shredded throat, begging me to scream, only to get lost in my wet, stuttering breaths.

The teasing needles of my Glory hovered, refusing to build further. Even if it did, what good would it do? It’d only knock me out. But if my cuffs didn’t knock me out, the lack of blood would.

My feet tingled, not a prickling tingle that hurt, not a buzzing warm tingle from the prince’s skin, no, a numbing tingle. The blue sky became fuzzy around the edges.

Time seemed to stop as I squeezed my eyes shut while it drank my blood like a damn vampire. Shame and confusion overwhelmed me as I waited for the end.

I was weak, useless, and a liability.

Just like I was for my mom. I couldn’t even protect her. But how could I if I couldn’t even protect myself?

I thought I was at least good at surviving, that I could eventually escape and survive until I found her. But it seemed I was failing at that, too.

A bubble of laughter surfaced, moving the nails of the Hellhound, and making me choke on the warm blood traveling up my throat. Soon, it’d be diving its big tongue into my mouth to slurp that up. But I couldn’t help but find it funny how irrevocably naive I’ve been and how alone I truly was .

I thought I’d at least have more help or someone to guide me to my mom.

First, the voices, but they never came back.

Then Oliver, but he betrayed me. There was the dream-walk of the stranger who helped me, but who knew where he was?

Now, it was just me and the hope of finding the only other person who cared about me.

My captors may care. In the way one cares about a mess they have to clean up, or maybe another dangerous creature would eat my leftovers. Then they wouldn’t have to bother themselves by cleaning up my dead carcass.

As the numbness crept up my calves, it brought me back to the nightmare in Marcus’s cement cage, of me struggling to beat the darkness and that unrecognizable male voice demanding I fight.

But what hope did I have of fighting off a beast ripping apart my body and draining me dry? I wasn’t strong enough for this. If my mom was still alive, I hoped she’d forgive me.

I let the Hellhound drink from me, waiting for the rest of the numbness as an annoyingly sweet melody whispered in my ears. Second by second, the music gained volume. But it wasn’t the normal clashing ice or a haunting melody. No, this was… jazz music.

It filled my chest with warmth and comfort, bringing to mind a steaming cup of hot chocolate and ending with a soft, off-tune hum.

My mom’s voice.

A treat before death.

Bittersweet tears trailed down my cheeks. I wished I could remember more. But if I had to die with her voice in my ear, I would.

The melody and numbness both climbed, two crescendos racing for two different peaks—one of light and one of darkness.

I closed my eyes, giving in to her hum, feeling guilty for the smile that twitched underneath the lingering agony .

She’d never know I gave up. But that didn’t lighten the guilt as I rasped, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

I let the music and light take me under.

My body limply moved from an uncomfortable tug. An unnatural sound and a hiss spliced through the music. Weight lifted off my chest, and I figured I was seconds away. Sound was the last to go, but I swore I heard my name.

“Did she do this?”

“Reduce a Hellhound to particles of dust. Looks like it.”

“But the cuffs,” someone said, shocked.

There was no answer to that. The humming jazz faded along with their voices.

Something tugged at my legs, bringing me back.

“She’s still losing blood.”

“Just leave her. We’ll find another one.”

“No, we’ll take her to the closest healer,” the voice said through my fuzzy hearing. I couldn’t tell who it was, but I heard the irritation.

Pressure tickled my back and knees.

“Fine. I can carry her for you, prince.”

“I’ll carry her. She is my duty.” He paused. “My duty to her.”

My sides stretched and bent in his arms, and I screamed bloody murder. He stiffened, adjusted me, and I flew back to the unconscious world—or possibly death.

The darkness I witnessed in our mind connection and the sense of contentment from her emotions confirmed that my Soulhound was sound asleep.

Rune!

Nothing .

Rune! I yelled again, sending her a sense of urgency and anger.

She blinked open an eye and slowly opened the other, irritated with me for waking her up.

Bark bordered her peripherals, and a forest spread out before her. She was bedded down in a hollow tree, her favorite place to sleep.

Where is the female? I snapped. It was like dealing with a damned teenager. I’d make Rune come home and take her place if I could, but that wasn’t possible.

She sent me a feeling of annoyance and walked over to the clearing she was supposed to be watching, finding it empty.

Fuck!

Find her!

“Hey, sweetie, wake up. I need you to drink this,” a gentle, high-pitched voice coaxed.

Too much pain and worry remained on the other side of this dreamless world . The worry felt off, but I didn’t have the energy or clarity to pinpoint why.

“Come on.” A hand tilted my head up. Barely aware, something pressed to my lips. “That’s it. This will help your bleeding.” A terrible taste entered my mouth. I took in some liquid, but most of it slid past my lips as my head lolled to the side.

There was a deep sigh as I settled back into something immovable but warm.

“Wasn’t she supposed to drink all of that?” A voice accused behind me, hot and sharp.

“Yes,” she said with concern. “Hopefully, it will be enough for now. After I stitch her, I’ll have to make her bindings tight. Once conscious, she’ll have to drink more of the coagulation serum. Until then, she will have to be checked frequently.”

Something moved from underneath me, making me groan.

“Will she live?”

Silence.

“Will she live?” The voice demanded. I cringed. The volume of their words snapped into my ear.

I heard another heavy sigh and then felt a lot of agonizing pressure. My head rolled back and forth as I whimpered, wanting the pain to stop.

“I’ll do my best. Now let her go so I can start.”

The ground moved a lot more this time, and my pain skyrocketed. Retreating from the pain, their voices softened.

“You will save her.”

“Careful, it sounds like you’re worried, Aspen.”

There was a grunt and what sounded like a door opening. “Only because she needs to be whole for my queen.”

“Your excuses seem to be weaker and weaker each time you visit.” Silence. “Nice job on the tourniquets and bandages,” she said begrudgingly after a moment.

“Learned from the best.”

An amused huff was the last sound I heard before fading to a numbing blackness.