Page 6 of The Prophecy
The words made no sense to her. Unless the Council had decided to sacrifice her themselves. She studied him, head cocked to one side as though she could somehow see into his mind. She didn’t believe him. And anyhow, there was no way out. They were deep underground, surrounded by fire demons. She still had no clue how he had gotten in. “Who are you?” she asked.
“My name’s Kael Hunter. Your father, Darius, sent me.”
Her father? That wasn’t possible. This was cruel.
Her father had been her whole world. He’d brought Raven up alone; her mother having abandoned her at birth—she had no clue why. It had just been Raven and her father for as long as she could remember.
Pain flashed through her as an image swept through her mind. His final moments, his body soaked in blood from the many wounds. He’d died trying to protect her from the fire-demons. “My father’s dead. I saw him die.”
Kael shrugged. “Things are not always as they seem.’
Could her father have survived? She had been so sure he was dead, killed in the attack when the fire-demons had taken her. Sorien had told her he was dead. Could he have lied? Of course he could. “You’ve got a phone. If my father’s still alive, then let me talk to him.”
“We can’t risk using the phone again, in case they pick up the signal. But he’s alive, believe me. Next time, I’ll bring you proof.”
She didn’t want to hope. Hope was dangerous and led to despair, but all the same a little flame burst into life, and a first flicker of real interest. “So where has he been? What did he do?” she asked.
“He came to the Council for help.”
Now she knew he was lying. She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” She didn’t try to hide her scorn. “My father would never have gone to the Council. They betrayed him. They were the reason we were on the run. The reason the fire-demons found us.”
He shrugged again. “Maybe he knew we were the only ones who could help.”
She gritted her teeth at that. “We?” she asked. “Who are you?”
“I told you, my name’s Kael. I’m a friend of your father’s.” He paused briefly. “And the head of the Council.”
She stared at him, her hands clenching into fists at her side. This man was responsible for everything that had happened. Her father had told her, warned her to beware the Council and especially its leader.
“So you’re the one who demanded my death,” she mused. “Yet now you expect me to believe that you’ve changed your mind and that you actually want to save me?”
“I made a mistake.” His tone was harsh.
“What?”
“I was furious with your father, but you were an innocent. It’s the Council’s place to protect, not to kill. But by the time I cooled down, your father was gone.”
She didn’t believe him. It was some trick. She shrugged. “So rescue me then.”
“Not yet.” She gave him a scornful look, and he continued. “It’s too great a risk to try and move you in daylight, and besides, we can’t escape the castle without help. The place is too well-protected. The Council has an army under our command. As soon as they are in place, they’ll attack and provide a distraction. First, I needed to check the layout and ensure you were really here. We had no proof.”
She still wasn’t sure she believed him. “Why didn’t my father come?”
“There are other...” He paused as if unsure of how to go on. Maybe there were other considerations, but if so, he clearly wasn’t ready to share them with her yet. Instead, he stretched out a hand and ran it gently over her lower lip. “You should be healing faster than this. When did you last feed?”
Her eyes flickered to his face. So he knew what she was. But of course he did. He knew her father, after all
“Last night.” She swallowed down her revulsion at the memory, but he must have seen something in her expression. He looked at her closely, comprehension dawning in his eyes.
“The man in the hall?”
She nodded reluctantly. “Once a month they take me from here to the hall, and I feed.” A shudder ran through her, and she had an overwhelming urge to explain herself. “I have no choice. I’m weak and the blood-thirst is too strong. I never drink much, just enough to stop the craving.” She took a deep breath. “Once they brought a child. I couldn’t, I refused then. They killed her anyway.” She closed her eyes briefly at the memory of that death. “I tried to end my life, but they stopped me and ever since I’ve been kept like this.” She raised her arm, rattling the heavy chain. “The next time they took me, I fed.” She finished. She didn’t want to look at him and see the revulsion that must be in his face.
“Jesus,” he muttered. He closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. When he opened them, he appeared to have come to a decision. He reached behind him and drew a blade.
Was he going to kill her after all? “What are you doing?”
“You need more blood; you have to feed.”
He drew the knife across his wrist. Raven watched in fascination, breathing in the rich scent of fresh blood, sweet and heavy. Her own blood quickened in response, thundering through her veins, the pulse throbbing at her throat. She licked her lips and saw him follow the movement. Then he slowly extended his arm toward her.
She ran her tongue across her sharp canines, felt the prickle in her gums as her fangs elongated. This couldn’t be happening. That he should offer his blood to her.
Don’t do it.
She had to keep her wits about her. This was some sort of trick. But she couldn’t resist.
Slowly she lowered her head, holding her breath, expecting his arm to be snatched away at any moment. But he held it steady in front of her. She stroked her tongue along the line of blood and almost swooned. The taste was richer than anything she had ever experienced. Magic coursed through his blood. Whatever he was, he wasn’t human. With that thought, she sank her fangs deep into his vein and she fed. The warm blood heated her cold flesh, filled the emptiness inside her. Strength flowed through her, and she sighed against his skin.
