Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy (36 page)

Crouching atop the
mountain face, I survey the land before me. All is quiet, yet I sense
they are drawing near. Surely they are as tired as I am from the run.

Slipping down
through a crag in the rock, I drag Barrett’s dagger across my
palm once more, reopening the flesh that has begun to slowly seal
over. I press my palm to the rock as I run, staining the confined
space with my scent.

They will come and I
will be ready.

I bind my wound and
climb into a darkened crevice to wait. Time drags out and my muscles
begin to cramp. I dare not shift my position or emerge to see if
anyone has arrived. I watch the moonlight against the opposite rock
face. It inches forward with maddening indifference.

My eyelids grow
heavy and my head lolls to the side. I can feel the drain of blood
loss on my mind. My thoughts grow sluggish and the tug of sleep more
insistent.

The sound of a stone
pattering down from above sends me into a silent panic. They have
found me.

I
can hear their whispers from above. There are six of them.
Do
the others come up from below to trap me? Are they working together
as a team, or is it every man for himself now?
This
group is not the type to share glory.

“Climb down
there and flush her out,” I hear Lucien growl. A heated
argument breaks out from above. I curl in on myself, clutching my
dagger tightly to my chest as I wait for the inevitable. My scent
will only throw them off for so long.

A shrill cry echoes
against the rock as a dark shape hurtles past me. He lands with a
sickening thud. The sounds of bones snapping make my throat go dry.

“No!” A
clash of swords rings out. I listen to the scuffling of feet and
grunting on the rock above. A deep growl makes my skin pimple as
Lucien battles with an unseen enemy.

“Have we
forgotten why we are here?” Barrett’s deep voice booms.
“We are here for the girl, and here you two are squabbling over
nothing.”

“He is my
brother!” a strangled voice cries.

That
must have been Rymus or Cain Lucien shoved off the cliff.
I
know little of these two, only what I need to. They are here to kill
me. At the moment, I am grateful Lucien’s anger has now
narrowed the numbers to seven against one.

“Was your
brother,” Barrett mutters. “I would not press him, Cain.
Lucien seems to be in a foul mood tonight.”

“I do not care
about his mood. He killed Rymus and the others. How many more of us
will you take out before the night is over, Lucien?”

The
others?
I
silently count the scents that filter down from above. Perhaps it is
a trick. Perhaps they speak such things to surprise me, though I
doubt Cain is of sound mind at the moment. No. Lucien has killed the
others. That means there are only five that remain now. Fane. Lucien.
Cain. Barrett. Castor.

“Enough.”
My head whips up at the sound of Fane’s voice. “This is
getting us nowhere. She is obviously not here.”

“Is she not?”
The cramp in my leg intensifies as Lucien’s voice calls down
into the darkness. It sounds louder in this small space. “You
seem so sure of yourself.”

I hear footsteps
overhead, the vibrations felt through the rock. “She tricked us
once with shedding blood. Do you not think she would do it again?”

Bless
you, Fane.
I
wait in agonized silence for Lucien to mull over his words.

“That is
precisely why I know she is here.” My throat rises into my
throat. “If you want to live to see another dawn, you will
climb down there and flush her out. Is that understood, Cain?”

A strangled
affirmative reaches me a moment before I hear fingernails sliding
down the rock face. His boots search for ledges to hold himself
aloft. I can smell his sweat and also his fear.

Good.
I
wait for him to scramble down the cliff side, his face pressed
against the stone. I shift silently in my hovel and wait. I know the
instant his hand slides into my blood trail. The scent of his need
becomes potent and his heartbeat rises.

“She is here.
I can smell her,” he calls to the men above.

“Can you see
her?” Fane calls down.

Cain is silent for a
moment as he cranes his neck around. The moonlight does not reach the
bottom of the crevice. It narrows below him, making it nearly
impossible to slip any lower. “No. I smell her though.”

“Of course you
do,” a deep voice drawls from above. Castor has arrived, or
perhaps he was there all along and has only now decided to speak.
“She smeared blood across the walls. It is another trick.”

“A clever
one,” Lucien muses. I hear him begin to pace. He stops, and I
hold my breath. “You are sure she would return to her home?”

I can almost imagine
Fane nodding. “Yes. You know as well as I do how losing her
family has tormented her. She is alone and frightened. She will
return to the one place she felt safe.”

I will my heart to
stop beating as I strain to hear. For several moments, all is quiet,
and then I hear the one thing I hoped for most. “We will return
to Brasov. Cain and Timen will remain here in case she returns. She
will not see the light of dawn.”

Pressing my palms to
the rock, I feel the men sprint away. I release a small sigh of
relief and let my forehead rest upon the stone.

“Keep watch
for me,” Cain calls from somewhere below. I push myself inch by
inch toward the exit, straining to see him.

“Do not do
anything foolish. Lucien said to stand guard,” Timen shouts
down.

“I do not obey
Lucien. My brother needs me.” I can hear Cain’s boots hit
the crevice floor, hear his shirt rip as he struggles to squeeze
through the narrow space. None of the hunters are small men. Each
boast large chests and sizeable arms.

An idea strikes me
and I realize I have no choice but to act. If Cain reaches Rymus, he
can regenerate him and I will have three immortals upon me. I cannot
let that happen.

Peeking out from my
hiding place, I see that a wisp of cloud is drawing near to the moon.
I clutch my dagger between my teeth and inch my fingers toward the
opening, ready to pull myself free the instant this hole falls deep
into shadow.

One.
Two. Three.
I
take a deep breath and latch my fingers around the lip of the hole
and thrust myself free. My nails score deep into the rock face as I
dig in to slow my descent.

I see the glint of
Cain’s eyes a second before I shove my dagger deep into his
chest. His mouth falls slack as I twist, severing his heart.

“Cain?”
Timen calls from above. I duck low as he comes to the edge. “I
heard a noise.”

I search around me
for Rymus, though I cannot see him. This bothers me, yet I cannot
linger. It will take only a moment of silence to alert Timen. He will
either climb down to me to investigate or call for help. I cannot
allow him to do that.

Casting a glance
overhead, I see that I am running out of time. The cloud has shifted
and the full light of the moon will be upon me in mere moments. I
leap to the wall and climb as silently as I am able. Timen calls
twice more, though he is met with only silence.

As I near the mouth
of the crevice, I flatten against the wall and breathe deep. I can
smell his fear. It tastes sweet on my tongue.

I
flip the dagger in my hand and grasp it between my fingers as Fane
taught me.
One
chance to survive. Aim high.

I lean back from the
wall and wait. The instant Timen’s head appears, I toss the
dagger. It lands with a wet thud. I scramble up the remaining few
feet and discover Timen lying on his side, the dagger buried through
his eye. His bloody hands clasp the hilt as he tugs. I fear his cries
will carry on the wind and alert the others.

Without hesitation,
I stomp on his stomach, hard enough to shove my boot straight through
his abdomen. His cries turn into gargled gasps. I fight to ignore the
squelching sound when I yank my boot free or the bits that dangle
from my foot. Instead, I sink down on my knee and shove the dagger
through to the back of his head.

His hands fall still
at his sides. I listen as his heart continues to beat and know my job
is not done. I pull my dagger free and plunge it into his chest
repeatedly. With each strike, tears spill from my eyes. My stomach
roils and my hands quake.

I can feel his blood
upon me, warm and sticky. The dagger clatters to the ground beside me
as I fall back, exhausted and horrified by my actions.

A clap from behind
me sends me scrambling to my feet. I turn to find Castor mounting the
rock, his body half in and half out of the shadows. “Impressive.
I did not think you had it in you.”

I watch him with
growing wariness as he approaches. His spiked mace drags along the
ground, scoring the surface of the stone. He seems in no hurry, yet
rather appears to be savoring the moment.

“You may have
fooled the others. However, I know your tricks, girl. You think you
are clever. I know better.”

He raises his arm
and swings his mace to and fro, mere inches above the ground. I look
for my dagger just as Castor slams his boot down upon it. He shoves
his foot and sends the blade hurtling into the crevice. He tsks,
shaking his head. “We cannot have you getting foolish ideas in
that pretty little head of yours, now can we?”

He raises his mace,
placing the wooden stick upon his shoulder so the spiked ball rests
against his stomach. He shifts his weight onto one side and stares
down at me. “I am not a cruel man, though I do enjoy a good
hunt. Your death will come with honor, for you have fought with more
bravery than any before you. Therefore, I will give you a choice. A
swift death or extended.”

“That is no
choice at all.” I turn my head to the side and spit.

“Perhaps not.”
He taps his finger against the mace. “Have you decided?”

I pause for a
moment, watching as he shifts again. The mace swings slightly,
nestling between his side and his arm. “Yes.” I hold up
my hands in defeat as I slowly rise. He marks my every movement,
though he appears unconcerned. “I have.”

A grin alights along
his face. “Well then, shall we end this?”

The instant his grip
tightens upon his mace, I place my weight onto one foot and launch
myself at him. My hands land a bit too high, though it is enough to
knock him off balance. His eyes are wide with surprise as he tumbles
backward. His skull slams into the stone and his eyes roll back into
his head.

I do not hesitate as
I slam my boot down upon his mace. Its spikes pierce the flesh of his
arm. I lean into it, placing all of my weight upon the ball. I bite
through my lower lip to still my cries as the spikes pierce through
my boot and up into my foot. I do not relent until the mace severs
bone and cuts through flesh. Castor screams as I bury the spikes into
the stone. With him staked to the ground, I pull my foot free,
stepping tenderly as I glare down at him.

I see unrepentant
rage staring back at me. Spittle flies from his lips as he curses my
name. “You wench. I would have given you a clean death!”

I nod as I limp up
next to his side. “You failed to realize there was a third
choice.” His eyes narrow as I smile down at him, fighting to
think around the stabbing pain in my foot. “I choose to live.”

Yanking back my
wounded foot, I kick his arm with all of my might. His flesh tears
free. His cries echo through the mountains as the portion of his arm
beneath his elbow disappears into the night, lost to the caverns
below.

I
turn my back on his curses and limp away.
Three
more to go.

Lucien
comes for me from over the mountain. I can smell his scent, though he
tries to hide it with the shifting winds that funnel through the
gorge. Castor’s cries must have brought them, and he is not
alone.

Two
remain with Lucien. Barrett and Fane.

I
know they will outrun me. I am wounded and bleeding. I can feel my
energy beginning to wane. I look to the heavens, noting the slightest
hint of lightening in the sky.
I
only need to make it until dawn.

Yet
I know the light of day will not stop Lucien. I have angered him by
outthinking him. The game no longer matters to him. He seeks revenge.

As
will Castor if he is freed. He will never be able to truly heal now
that his arm is lost.

I
glance back over my shoulder and breathe deep. Fane is trailing
behind. I wonder if he is injured. Has Lucien attempted to end his
life too? My stomach clenches at the thought, though even as it does,
I am reminded that Fane cannot be trusted. Not until sunrise at
least.

This
is what Lucien desires,
a
still voice whispers to me.
He
knows Fane will unsettle me. It is a test to see where my loyalties
lie. He has suspicions of my feelings.

I
cannot allow Lucien to live or risk being found out. Vladimir will
fly into a rage at the death of his brother. If I do this, I cannot
remain. He will hunt me. I know this, yet there is no other option.

I
cannot kill Fane.

I
leap from the mountain’s peak and brace for impact, knowing my
landing will be torturous. Pain lances through my foot as I land upon
the uneven terrain. The soil shifts beneath my boots and I begin to
tumble, rolling with growing speed.

Tree
roots and rocks slam into me as I plummet into the base of the
canyon. My ankle snaps, as do several ribs and my right arm. Pain
bursts before my eyes, darkening my vision as I roll to a halt.

My
pulse throbs incessantly in my head as the world feels as if it
continues to spiral about me. Every part of my body hurts. I cry out
as I try to pull myself upright. I look down upon my ankle and know I
am done. It has shattered completely. My right arm dangles uselessly
beside me. My body is a mass of scrapes and cuts, each one flooding
the canyon with my scent.