Page 44 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

A shiver woke me up to a muddy puddle. Dazed and drenched, I felt something shift when I sat up to scan my surroundings.

A black cloak blanketed me, but that wasn’t as surprising as the comforting, warm weight of Aspen’s arm latched around my hip.

He seemed dead beside me despite the warmth of his body. I pressed two fingers into his neck, relieved to feel the tingles and his pulse.

Well, I’m glad to see he hasn’t taken you to his kingdom yet.

I started at the chilling voice.

Were you waiting around until I woke up?

Yes.

Why?

To do this.

Before I even assumed what that meant, a wave of agonizing icy power slammed through me and into Aspen. I screamed and forced my Infernus to the surface. The pain ceased, but the damage was already done by the time I recovered and jerked my fingers back. Ice layered Aspen’s body again.

Why the hell did you do that?

It needed to be done, he said weakly. He survived the waters like you. After he heals, he will wake up and take you to his queen. I can’t have that.

Why? Why am I so important to you?

Go North, and I’ll help you find your mom and give you answers, he said, voice and chill fading.

Great. I couldn’t even ask him which way was North. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t going North. I was going to find Magda.

With one last glance and doubtful thought, I wiggled out from under Aspen’s iced-over arm and placed his cloak back over him. Knowing he’d live, I dragged myself away and into the forest.

The loud swooshing of my feet jammed into the stillness.

I needed to lift them. But between my difficulty seeing and lingering exhaustion, I couldn’t seem to care enough.

What minuscule energy I gained from my drain nap revolted against my movement.

That was the second time I drained myself into passing out.

How long would it take me to drain myself to the point of death?

I sighed. It didn’t matter right now.

Eventually, dried bark turned to wet moss. It squished into my hands each time I steadied myself. When a uniquely unpleasant smell overpowered the scent of my wet clothes, I knew I entered Drune Forest.

A delirious part of me hoped to stumble upon a Drune so it could point me in the right direction, and another part wanted to sleep more.

Yet, the only part I listened to was the one that moved my fifty-pound feet, eyes glazed over, half paying attention to my surroundings for what seemed like forever.

Sometime later, my knees gave out. I fell flat into a moist pile of moss, missing a protruding root. Splaying my hands, I planned to push myself off the ground. That plan backfired when the sweet bliss of sleep took over.

I wasn’t in my body. Either that or I grew a bulge where I knew, for a fact, I did not have a bulge before this.

But as my fingers adjusted my relatively small situation in my nether regions, and I glanced at the flat expanse of my chest out of the corner of my purple-hued vision, I knew I was in a dream-walk.

Although, as my scrawny arm scratched my tiny balls, I think I preferred invading my own body.

A door slammed, jerking my hand away from my crotch. Males. I took in my surroundings as much as possible without controlling this young boy’s head while he rose off the gaudy red settee.

We stood in a jewel-toned sitting area filled with golden ornamentation and fancy wallpaper.

The only piece of furniture without patterns was the coffee table in front of us, holding a stack of books and a pile of marbles.

I couldn’t decide if the flamboyant room was a poor style choice or if my dream transported me to the Victorian era.

“Mom! Someone’s here,” he called out. I winced, not liking the vibrations of the little boy’s voice in my head.

In his head? In our head? This trapped-in-not-your-own-body experience seemed more straightforward with Aspen.

But I rather invade my own body. Then, I didn’t have to contend with two sets of emotions .

Two purposeful sets of shoes click-clacked against the hardwood floors on the other side of the walls. An older blonde female entered the room, rubbing her hands on a towel and giving us a curious look.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” his mom said as another set of shoes rushed down the hall and into the room.

A dark-haired female stood in the doorway, panicked. An unusual white suit with buckles and sheaths hugged her body. She clutched the hand of a young boy in plain black pants and a grey shirt. They both had short dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a similar bone structure.

The blonde dropped her towel, face pale. “No, you need to go!” she said, pointing at the dark-haired lady.

Confusion that wasn’t my own wedged in between my curiosity and apprehension.

Trapped, I watched the dark-haired female storm toward the blonde, leaving the dark-haired boy in the doorway. We stared at each other, neither moving from our spots. Or, more accurately, the dark-haired boy stared at the boy whose body I invaded.

“Emily, you don’t understand.”

“I understand just fine!” Emily pointed at me, then gestured to another gaudy red chair in the corner where a little girl with ebony hair slept cuddling a porcelain doll.

The dark-haired female shook her head. “I know since you’re human, you never wanted this to be the safe house for our children. But?—”

“No buts, Miriam! How am I supposed to protect them like this?” Emily gestured to her petite frame, clothed in a blush dress—the opposite of Miriam’s lethal attire .

Our concern spiked. We walked to her, side-stepping the other female, and grasped her hand.

“The safe house doesn’t matter anymore,” Miriam said. “Originally, my son and I came here for that, but I had a vision at your front door. They know. Someone sold us out.”

We stared at Miriam’s panicked face. A navy ring circled her pupil, butting against the vibrant blue. She wasn’t human. But without the tell-tale purple ring, I didn’t know what she was.

Her panicked eyes peered down at us.

Hello, Oliver.

We jerked. Her eyes drilled into his soul, and her brows lowered with her lips.

Hello, Lucille.

Her lips never moved, but her voice was clear as day. The boy’s shock and confusion amplified my own. I was not expecting to hear words in this head, or that name, or my name. We shifted our attention to Emily, eyes wide. She looked ready to faint.

“Mom?” We squeezed Emily’s hand.

Frozen stiff with horror, she stared at the sleeping form of the tiny ebony-haired girl.

Miriam touched Emily’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with our children while you pack a bag. But make it quick. I don’t know how much time we have.”

Emily nodded, unable to speak. She released our hand, and someone banged on a door.

We all jumped. The chandelier above the coffee table shook. The dark-haired boy scurried into Miriam’s arms, and the little girl woke up.

“Mama?” she said, sitting up with her doll .

“We’re too late,” Miriam whispered, tightening her grip on her son.

Emily ran to her daughter, pulling her off the couch. “We can go out the back!”

But before anyone could move, an explosion shook the house, sending us to the red-carpeted floor. Miriam covered Oliver and her son from the raining debris, while Emily covered her daughter. We coughed into our arm as Miriam pulled us up, dragging us into an antique kitchen.

“Get to the hall. We’ll run out the back.” Emily nodded to a doorway on the other side of the kitchen.

We ran behind Miriam, following her down a long hallway, and smashed into her back as she stopped. Peering around her, we found my worst nightmare stepping through the back door.

Marcus was here. And if the body I invaded belonged to back-stabbing, jokester Oliver , and we were with his sister and mother…

This was about to be another tragic dream I wanted no part of.

“Well, I just love it when things are made easy for us,” he laughed.

Miriam pulled her son behind her and backed us up.

“We’re surrounded,” Emily said.

Oliver gazed behind us to the exploded foyer and back at Marcus.

Figures covered in blood-red leather crowded into both sides of the hallway. Emblems of different colors decorated their chests.

Marcus prowled closer. A pulse resonated the air, and two balls of blinding white light formed in Miriam’s hands.

She threw one toward his face and the other to the figures behind us.

Marcus dodged it, but it didn’t stop the balls of light from obliterating two of his armed soldiers—no blood, no flesh bits, no ash. They were just gone.

Our eyes widened .

Miriam formed two more balls of light. The color reminded me of my Glory, only brighter and hotter, and the core appeared blue. She flung it at Marcus’s chest, but again, he dodged it, and two more soldiers died.

“I can do this all day, darling,” he smirked beneath his hat.

Miriam didn’t rise to his baiting words, throwing ball after ball down each side of the hall until four soldiers remained. Sandwiched between her and Emily, we grabbed our little sister’s and Miriam’s son’s hands.

“Mathew, give some incentive,” Marcus said, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance, unphased by the ball of light that almost singed his cowboy hat.

I didn’t know what that meant, but I found out real quick when Emily screamed and collapsed to the floor.

“Emily!” Miriam yelled, turning to throw both balls of light at the two remaining soldiers behind us.

“Mom!” Oliver scrambled to her side, horrified by the two knives protruding from her stomach.

That was all Marcus needed—a split second of distraction.

Miriam shrieked, and something sizzled.

We whipped our head around. Marcus latched onto her wrist as deep red shadows seeped from his glowing marks and devoured the flesh on Miriam’s arm—inch by inch. The sight of her bloody bones and the smell of her burning muscles turned Oliver’s stomach.