Bloodmark (33 page)

“You loved that human, didn’t you?” Eamon said.

I heard the words, but I didn’t understand the question. I felt an icy chill from him. But if they were going to sacrifice me, it would be at Carrowmore, not here on this desolate, frozen ground. I was safe, for now. I just stared wide-eyed at Eamon.

Adomnan returned moments later, and Eamon stepped away. It was eerie how closely he watched my every movement. Why did he want to know if I really loved Grey? What did he know of love? It was obvious none of them had ever felt love and their lives were empty. My mother loved me with everything she had; I couldn’t imagine growing up without the shelter of her admiration. What was it like to never feel the love of a parent, a friend, a partner?

“I have arranged a plane to take her home,” Adomnan said. I shuddered to think what their home might look like. “Eamon, take her inside and find her something to wear that isn’t covered in blood. Bento, you come with me.” He spoke as though I weren’t there. That was typical of his kind. Women weren’t to be talked to when other males were present. How our kind survived for so long with such ridiculous rules, I would never know.

I followed Eamon toward the shack. It looked like nothing more than an old abandoned building, no more than one room with a rusty, snow-covered roof and an outhouse. It was a trade post. The smell of the smoky fires surrounded us inside. It was filled with animal furs, spices, and meats. Two wrinkled old human men sat at the counter. They looked up at us, startled at first—they knew what we were—but they quickly went back to milling about, trying not to pay us any mind. Eamon flipped back a thick bearskin rug on the floor to reveal a hidden door. With a creak, he lifted the wooden panels, and the floor opened up. From what I could see, it was well lit down the wooden plank ladder, but I couldn’t see how big the room was below.

“After you,” he said. His voice was welcoming in a way.

I carefully put my foot onto the first rung of the ladder, expecting it to break under my weight. I slowly continued down, step after step, into the cavity below until I could no longer see daylight.

Eamon quickly shut the door behind us, but there was plenty of light coming from below. Reaching the last step, I turned around and saw what had to be miles and miles of a city. It stretched on for as far as I could see. Every building and home was hobbled together with random parts. This was an entire hidden world with inhabitants that may never have seen the light of day.

“Welcome to the Netherworlds,” Eamon said.

It wasn’t that different from the Rock of Cashel, with its hidden labyrinth of tunnels and rooms, but this was poor, damp, and dark. The shacks went on as far as I could see down earthen tunnels. Hundreds of poverty-stricken wolves must have lived here. Two elderly women sat scrubbing old rags in dirty water, their skin gray with filth. A group of three men leaned against a tin shack with a holey roof. They appeared to be in their mid-twenties and they had horrible clawed scars all over their bodies. They wore ripped jeans and no shirts, but one wore a necklace of wolf teeth. An Asian man stood a few shacks down, pretending not to watch us pass. Though they all saw me, I knew they wouldn’t intervene with Adomnan’s plan. Eamon was halfway down a block before he realized I was still standing there, staring like a child.

A thin man stared back at me, not even trying to conceal his gaze. His greasy, long black hair draped over his shoulders in a slight wave, and he wore a black top hat. He had a large gray wolf’s hide draped over his grimy T-shirt, the wolf’s lifeless head lying limp to one side. The wolf had been so large that his tail dragged on the ground behind the frightening man. He watched me without subtlety. He walked toward me, emitting a low growl as he grew nearer. I subconsciously took a step backward, but he followed, filling the space between us once again. His rough, scarred hands reached up and touched my hair, rubbing it between his forefingers. He pulled out a knife, cut a lock of my hair, and smelled the scent.

His mouth opened wide in a sickly smile. I flinched away from the creature. I didn’t want to watch as he killed me and added my skin to his coat. I breathed in deeply, trying to clear my mind. Suddenly, his scent was overpowered by Eamon’s, and I dared to open my eyes.

Eamon stood between us. I was oddly comforted by his presence. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. I wanted to run away, but I didn’t know where to go. Finally, the stranger looked down and walked away, a sign of resignation. There was something horrible about the stranger; it was clear he wanted something with me. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Eamon had won, but I was certain it wasn’t the end of that wordless discussion. Something told me I would be the prize for the benefactor.
The spoils of a man’s war
. Eamon walked down the street, and this time I didn’t linger. I felt the stranger watch us as we left, but I didn’t dare look back. I was too afraid to see his sickening face again.

We turned the corner to an area where the buildings looked in more repair. Not nice, but cleaner somehow. We stopped at a two-story hut that had dried lavender on the door. We didn’t knock; we just stood there waiting. For all I knew, we were waiting for the world to open up and swallow us whole. So many unbelievable things had happened, I was almost numb to the surreal nature of my surroundings.

Without a sound, a small, ghostly woman opened the door and stood before us. She had almost pure-white skin and snow-white, pixie-short hair. There was almost no pigmentation to her at all, except her large, dark eyes. Her irises were so dark, it gave the appearance that she didn’t have them at all—like two giant pupils looking back at us. Even her eyelashes were white. She was nothing like the place that surrounded her. She looked pure. Her white gown flowed to the floor, creating a puddle of fabric around her. Eamon bowed to her, and she nodded in return, motioning for us to follow her inside.

It smelled of lavender and mint inside, and everything was glazed in white, from the wooden chairs to the rugs on the floor. Even the wallpaper was white damask. The only color in the entire house was dried lavender above the hearth in the living room. She stood watching us.

“Lady Faye,” Eamon said, bowing.

“Why do you stand before me today, Eamon?” she asked.

The glow from the fire made her look more alive. The flames danced on her skin, making it look warm, though her expression didn’t soften. There was something very old behind her perfectly smooth skin. I wondered if she were one of the Elder Gods, like Mother Rhea. Most of the others were nothing more than myth and song now, but I felt a kinship with her.

“I come to you seeking a cloak for this woman.”

She turned her now-stunned gaze to me. “A mere child,” she said.

Eamon nodded his head but didn’t reply any further. My clothes were torn and covered in my own blood, and despite my best efforts to look strong, I knew I appeared weak. She circled around me like a predator circles its prey, stopping directly in front of me. I averted my eyes, too frightened to look at her. She leaned forward, curving her head around mine, and breathed in my scent.

“The only daughter of King Pørr and Queen Nessa Boru,” she said. I looked up at her, astonished. She knew me without my name, without my father’s Bloodmark, though I was certain I had never met her. “What happened to you, child?”

I glanced at Eamon while weighing my options. I didn’t know what side she was on, nor what Eamon’s anger could look like.

“I fell down.”

She looked at me, yet I was sure she was seeing inside me. “Your heart is pure,” she said, smelling me again. “His love surrounds you still.”

“Grey?” I blurted.

“His soul is searching for yours, but he can’t see you,” she said. “The silver poison is still in your veins.”

I could only stare at this beautiful creature before me. She held more magic than I had ever imagined existed in the whole of the world. When the silver poison finally left my body, would Grey’s soul haunt mine? She held her soft hand palm-up above her shoulder, as were the old ways, awaiting mine. I placed my hand in hers, palm to palm, and she led me behind a white curtain into an empty chamber. There were white-framed mirrors all around us, each frame different. She let go of my hand at the center of the room, and I stopped moving. It was easy to see what she wanted me to do. She walked to a mirror framed in white fire at the far side of the room and reached her arm inside, through the glass. It seemed to pool and ripple around her arm as she pulled out a warm, brown drape of fabric.

It hung across her forearm as she began to remove the clip from my sweater. She studied the bronze pin in her hand. I knew by her glance that she knew who gave it to me. She pinned it to her gown. I slid the sweater off and let it fall to the floor as well as my now-torn shirt. She touched my necklace, running her fingers over the delicate metal, and she smiled. What secret she found there, I didn’t know. I quickly slipped off my tattered jeans as she slipped the fabric over my head. As it fell to the floor, it braided and twisted itself into a dress around my body at her whim, forming around my every curve. I looked at myself in the mirror, expecting to see my wild-haired self. Instead I saw someone who looked like a goddess . . . but she had my face.

The gown dipped to the end of my sternum between my breasts, exposing my cleavage. It had a braided fabric belt low around my waist that created a train down the back. A large hood hung behind me, covering the racer-back style of the garment. She pinned the bronze clip to my hip, returning it to me without a word.

“Unclaimed child, know that you are the dream.”

She turned away from me before I could question her, and she raised her hand again and led me back to Eamon. He was pacing back and forth until he saw us enter. His mouth fell open as he studied me in my new gown. He gently placed my hood over my face. It covered my eyes and nose; even my wild red hair was contained in its shroud. Only my mouth remained visible.

This wasn’t subtle. Even in this world I would be noticed, much less flying on an airplane with humans all around us.

“My lady,” he said to me with a nod. He bowed to Lady Faye, and I followed him back out onto the dirty underground streets. It was easy to forget where we were, inside her clean, white sanctuary. We were once again in the bleak Netherworlds. I glanced back over my shoulder, but her door was already closed.

The way she touched my necklace must have meant something to her. Could she have known it was Brenna’s? Or that Grey had given it to me? Oh, Grey. I missed him with every fiber of my being. I wished for a chance to just sit down and cry instead of being dragged all over North America as a hostage. I needed to mourn for my love. With every step I took, I felt as though I were dying.

I wondered if Mund had found me missing yet. Would he try to find me? Would he find Grey’s lifeless body? That realization shook me, and I gasped for air. Eamon looked at me quizzically but didn’t inquire. Instead he offered me his arm as he led me back the way we came. We passed all the sad little wooden shacks and the variety of werewolves who hung out near them, but they didn’t pay attention as we walked down the street. I heard children playing nearby, their small laughs echoing off the earthen walls. I felt like a ritual sacrifice being paraded down the streets . . . which might not have been far from the truth. The stale air was filled with the filthy scent of the squalor.

I saw the mummified human-form bodies of werewolf warriors displayed for each pack. Their eyes were replaced with black glass, and their skin was leathery. It was a sign of strength to worship their dead. Eamon nodded to one of the mummies as we passed by. I found myself wondering more about him. Who was Eamon without Adomnan? Was he a brutal killer too? Or was he a gentle soul? It was hard to see him beyond his family’s stain. We were all viewed as a total sum of our pack, not its parts. But each individual part was like a single snowflake, exquisitely different from the one before.

“Whose body was that?” I said, my curiosity getting the best of me.

He looked at me, startled to hear my voice. “The great warrior Tizheruk of the once-great Inuit pack.”

“Where are his sons?”

“Dead.”

“All of his pack?”

“Adomnan doesn’t leave survivors.”

I didn’t ask any more questions. I blindly followed Eamon; I didn’t care where he took me. There was nothing left of me to punish; the part of me who cared what happened was gone. All that remained was this empty shell of who I once was. I caught the scent of the greasy stranger as we neared the ladder, and my heart pounded with fear. I peeked past the hood to see he stood between us and the way out of this underground tomb. I was afraid of him, but I didn’t know why. I involuntarily took a step backward. Eamon looked at me, and his eyes filled with anger. I was stunned by his sudden distaste for me. He growled at the stranger. I could feel its vibration in my bare feet on the dirt floor.

“You have no business with us,” Eamon said.

“I have
business
with this lady,” he said; he didn’t look up as he answered. He just continued wiping his knife with a torn piece of leather. Over and over again. Methodically following the edge of the blade.

Eamon growled a terrifying sound. He pushed my body farther behind his, shielding me from the stranger who looked up, watching us both. I wanted to run away, back to Lady Faye, but my feet were frozen in the dirt. The stranger took a step toward us, filling half the gap. Eamon prepared for the fight, and the stranger threw his dagger into the ground at Eamon’s feet. Still Eamon didn’t react.

“I know who you are,” he said to me.

I peeked around Eamon’s shoulder, watching the stranger as he paced forward. The lifeless creature on his shoulder told a strong warning as to what fate might await us. I wasn’t sure who was stronger between them, but I didn’t want to find out.

“If you have any sense to you,
wolf
, you’ll leave the lady be,” Eamon said.

The stranger laughed as he moved only a few inches from Eamon, who was the only barrier between me and the disgusting man. I could smell the grease that covered him, but it covered his true scent. The two growled, but neither showed any fear. Before it could escalate, Adomnan’s large figure dropped down the hole. When he stood to his full height, he towered over both Eamon and the stranger.