Of Fangs And Fury

Chapter Thirteen

Caderyn

Golden light falls across my eyelids, bright red as I try to resist consciousness. The morning heat is already creeping through the room, causing me to kick off all the bedding. My jaw is uncomfortably sore due to grinding my teeth all night, the nightmares being dreams of anxiety and fear.

When I reach for Lara’s soft skin, wanting to curl around her and let my mind ease, I find only air. The sheet is cool to the touch, and I wonder how long I’ve slept in. She’s commented how burnt out I am… it would be just like her to let me sleep as she went off to work.

After sitting up, I rub my eyes and then stretch. She’s not wrong, I’m so worn out. Feeling like there’s nothing left, a candle being burned at both ends. Maybe today I’ll take a break… start with a long training session, take a steaming bath, have luncheon with Lara, and go from there. I’ll just have to pop my head into her study on my way, just to let her know.

Compression pants, running shoes, fresh towel, and I’m already feeling that much more relaxed. I wonder if I should change my schedule around, doing this first instead of going straight to the Sovereign’s office. That way I could spend time with Lara right after cena, too, instead of having to be away from her even longer.

Excited, I open Lara’s study door while knocking, “Morning, bellis -”

But she’s not there. I step in and eye the door to the attached bathroom, still open. I cross into her old bedroom and find it empty as well. Probably in the library, I nod to myself. She’d mentioned having made a breakthrough but needing to figure out just the right chemical to use.

Ground floor, second story, no one’s there. Frowning, I wonder if she’s gone to the greenhouse for flora. On my way, that tickles something in my mind from the night before. I hazily remember her waking… getting up and leaving the room.

Jogging now, my heart hammers against my ribs. My stomach is throwing acid up my throat. My lungs spasm in my chest. My mind is racing. Did she ever come back to bed? For the love of Gods, Cade focus! When did she come back to bed?

The second the greenhouse door is pushed open; I start screaming for her. Tearing my throat apart, my voice reverbs against the glass enclosure. I pass the breakfast table to see it not even set up for the morning. I look upon the second floor and she’s not in our spot. Turning around the last curve, I come to the lavender patch.

Shattered glass.

Dented railing.

Flatten flora…

Next to the cuttings lays bloody sheers.

And just like that, Lara is gone.

Delara

Deadweight rocking back and forth. Ankles tied, tilting side to side with every turn. Spine straight, back flat against the floor. Wrist to elbows bound by spellcraft, forearms over the chest, knuckles bobbing against the chin. Head swaying, eyes fluttering, lungs gasping.

Feeling as if my soul was punched out of my body, floating behind my torso, I try to grasp consciousness. Out of the darkness, I try to focus. If I blink, the world may slip away once again.

The windows… through the windows. Trees. Familiar trees. Trees from a different window…. Trees from the train? Train! A whole day through the Forest Of Night – I know these trees.

Push. Focus. Delara, com’on! Get a hold, get a hold….

But the darkness pulls me back once again.

Caderyn

Glass shatters across the stone wall, “Non mi interessa se devo bruciare questo regno in cenere, troverò Delara!” Picking up and throwing an empty side table, it splinters and breaks in the corner. “Case giù mattone per mattone, persone divaricate arto per arto ... Non mi interessa!” I roar.

Looking to Jasper and Melaena, my jaw is clentched. “Ci deve essere una sorta di indizio, da qualche parte, perché non l'abbiamo ancora trovato? Ho ricevuto minacce di morte, Tahir ha ricevuto minacce di morte ... da qualche parte ci deve essere qualcosa.” My chest heaving, I ask, “Ci sono differenze tra la nostra e quella di Delara?”

While my breath huffs through my nose like a snarling beast, my hands curl into fists with sharp nails digging into my palm. I’d lost rotation in my neck some hours again and my shoulders are locked. Jasper has his hands up, as if trying to talk me down from ripping someone’s head off, “Sir, the guards are looking all over and around the greenhouse, we have staff looking for anything suspicious in her old room, study, and -”

But Melaena jumps up, serval different letters in both hands, “Prince Caderyn! Look!”

She lays the letters down on the table, but I can’t see nor feel anything, “What?”

“There’s spellwork all over these, leftover traces that don’t match the original author or receiver.”

My eyes jump around the pages. Letters between Tahir and me, letters between Delara and Alli…, “They would have been teleported by the post office.”

She shakes her head, “It’s not that, it’s… something else. All mail has that type of magik intertwined with the parchment, but this is different.”

“And?”

She frowns, leaning down to run her fingers over them again, something saying an incantation under her breath. “Some sort of cloaking I think…. Maybe… well –”

“Maybe an interception?” Jasper asks.

I look between the two of them. “What? Like someone read our mail and then resealed it with magik?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly!”

I snatch the letters Melaena has so perfectly laid out. What information could possibly be in here? But then I see it… I see all of it.

Then in the last letter I grabbed, I’m surprised to see it between Tahir and Delara. My eyes skim it rapidly, landing on his scrawled handwriting: ‘I would do anything to have you again.’

“I have to speak to Mother – go – now!”

Delara

Feet dragging through the mud. Dressing gown getting caught in bushes and roots and natural debris. Waterfall of hair falling down, causing a wall in front of the face. Wrists to elbows bound, the same spellwork carrying the dead weight of the entire body slowly. With every step of the captor, the head bounces forward and back. Then, like a shock through my chest, to my heart, I jolt awake.

Rapidly blinking, I don’t move of my own accord. Using only my eyes, for now, I try to gather my surroundings. Gliding over deep forest underbrush, it looks almost untouched by Vampires (or Humans or Lykans or Fae). As I sway, I barely turn my head and see in the break of my hair, past my ears. The same trees from the carriage, the same trees from the train – the red giants unmistakable.

We are in the Forest Of Night. The kingdom’s massive nature reserve. Completely uninhabited.

Which means?

No one will ever find us.

Caderyn

I could feel the restlessness in my body despite my legs carrying me from room to room, corner to corner until I have paced the boundary of the safe house yet again. ‘Impatient’ isn’t a strong enough word for the churning in my stomach. Though we are all scheduled to speak together through Ocular Spectrums, for our safety, we were never told the exact time.

Initially, I wanted to blame Tahir – it was easy to focus my fury and panic on him, but I know my little brother… he would never do this. Even when given the opportunity to cheat or have special treatment, he always chose to do things by the book. Yes, the blow of him becoming Minister was chaotic and seemingly immature, he still isn't letting our Family or our people down.

So, when this conversation is over, I’m off to the Obsidian post office. I already know how to slip past the guard, thanks to late nights with Calhoun. I still have the ‘commoner’ outfit they transported me in. And, if I leave late enough at night, they won’t notice the horse is gone until morning.

I am not my brother; I will not wait to hear what my men have accomplished. I am not the King who will sit around on lavish sofas drinking vintage wine, letting his men do all the work. If I’ve learned anything from my parents, it’s to lead by example. I have a clue I’m going to follow, even if I have to follow it alone.

I am Prince Caderyn Otihen Onyx, Delara’s mate and future marito, and I will do whatever it takes to bring her home.

Delara

Bare feet bleeding and bruised, stepping lightly through the mud. Legs scratched and cramping, the edge of my pajamas barely covering anything. The soft one took pity on me when my teeth started chattering and wrapped my dressing gown tight across my torso. With forearms still magically bound, there’s an invisible tug pulling my wrists forward as quickly as I can walk.

In the middle of the forest, the canopy makes it impossible to see the stars. I have no idea which direction we’re going, and thanks to being unconscious, I have no idea how long we’ve been moving. The only change now is that we’re following a river towards a waterfall.

The roaring of the falls was a subtle hum at first. But the closer we get, the louder it becomes. Almost deafening now, we’re coming to its edge. Are they going to drown me? Would it really be that simple? As I look around at the cliffside, the solid wall of earth, I can only think, why go to all this trouble? Why here?

But then one more step and I’m pulled forward through a glamour. The magiks’ electricity feels like needles across my skin, hurting my eyes, and making me a little nauseous, (partially how powerful the spellwork is, partially a little post-traumatic stress). When I finally steady myself and look around, I realize we’re in a very crude, raw-edged, impossible-to-find tunnel in the mountain.

Caderyn

The rising Sun breaches the top of the opposite buildings, causing a sharp ray of light to reflect off the glass window of the post office’s door. As my fist pounds against the wood, I yell loud enough for the employee to hear me from the second-story apartment. The safe house had been farther than anticipated but at least the village is already waking, and my commotion might go unnoticed.

The door finally swings open, and a very angry and confused male is across from me. Mouth open and finger pointed, he stops when I drop my hood. “P-prince Ca-aderyn,” he sputters, “why don’t you come in?”

I push past him. As he closes the door and locks it, he asks, “What can I do for you, Your Royal Highness?”

“I need a list of all your employees. Anyone – and I mean anyone that has had access to my families’ letters. Anything from the palace, from me, from my brother, from Scholarra Delara Dyad. Now.”

As he stumbles to the back, around the counter, he starts spewing information, “Well, we have a very small group of persons that handle Royal Mail. And then… with the teleportation, there’s only two – maybe three? Within that group that is cleared to interact with the magik.

“We’ve been meaning to train more employees, seeing as teleportation is in high demand – it’s great really, persons pay a premium price, well over the cost of the spellwork. More and more post offices are getting the spellwork done, too, and –”

On the other side of the counter, I wrap my knuckles once, “The names.”

He bows, “Yes, Sir.” After switching through different files and spilling a mess of papers on the floor, he lays on out over the counter. “The list for Royal Mail on our end -”

“Your end?”

“Y-yes, Sir. We have one group who sorts the mail, then another who delivers it onto a palace servitore. Which, I have the names of as well!” he adds quickly. “The mail runners, I mean.”

I nod. “I need a list of anyone who deals with our mail – from teleportation to sorting, to the runners – everyone.”

He bows his head then starts circling names after cross-referencing another paper. “We have five people who deal with Royal Mail, two of which handle its teleportation. Then we have… oh, wow, uh,” he looks up at me, “another seven employees that handle the running.”

Flipping the paper around, I slowly look at each name. Out of the thirteen people, only two names stand out. “Akious Gunthrie and Haynes Vahlughes,” I shake my head. “They’re on our watch list.”

I look up to the male, “As an office under royal management, you should have received a list of individuals who are wanted by The Crown. Akious and Haynes are wanted – did you know that? And you, you have them under your employment?”

I close my eyes for a moment. “These disturbed men are Pure-blood Devotees that have sent death threats to my entire Family. Did you know that?” I look at the postman, my jaw clenched. “Do you support that?”

His hands come up as his head starts twitching back and forth. “No, Sir. Of course not, Sir. I didn’t know – I swear. They’re just runners -”

I slam my hand on the counters. “Runners who intercepted Royal Mail broke into the Palace Of Onyx and abducted your future Queen!”

My hand itches to cut open his throat. Instead... I clench my fists over the counter. Lowering my voice, I emphasize, “The next Queen Of Onyx. You understand the severity of this oversight, yes?”

When he doesn’t respond, I toss my hand, “Just get me their f*****g addresses.”

Delara

Loose hair sticking to sweat and blood, knotted and pulling painfully. Left eye swollen - well enough because blood from the eyebrow is running with tears. Skin torn over the right cheek, any movement of the face stings. Bottom lip is split, swollen, bleeding, and so dry it’s stuck to the chapped top lip. Breathing is almost impossible with a fractured rib and broken nose. Internal bleeding is quite possible as a result of the abdomen beating.

The sunlight beyond my right lid, with the ever-subtle warmth on my skin, is what made me wake. Though the spellwork was lifted from my body, the immobility remains. Just throwing my shoulder back to roll from my side to lying flat on my back makes my breath catch, in pain.

The agony felt in my lower torso is so immense, it seems to be felt everywhere. Mentally, emotionally, physically I am overwhelmed – stunned, stuck… cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot cry, cannot scream. Eyes on the jagged, poorly carved ceiling, I wonder is this the last thing I’m going to see?

Petrified, I’ve never been in so much pain and I’ve never been so afraid. Is this dying? Am I dying? I want to cry, I want to sob, but my body refuses. Everything is wrong… everything is broken.

The sunlight moves from my face to my chest, and I follow the beam to see it filter through an awkwardly rectangular hole in the far wall. Refracting through droplets of water, causing periodic halos of rainbows. Possibly behind the waterfall, there’s no relief from the moisture or the noise.

Something that could have been described as cool, maybe even pretty, to a passerby of the falls, is now crippling my very soul. The tunneled sound bounces off the walls, echoing – like waves crashing over my body again and again, and I tumble, gasping for breath. The sunlight that had been a warm gift now feels like a magnified beam, burning every fleck of skin and sparking across every arm hair. Left only in my nightgown, I am both on fire and freezing. So cold, my nerves fried, my body is out of control.

Pain creeps up my spine, across my shoulders, and into my head. A migraine sweeping, reaching, digging its claws into my brain. I can feel the rushing of my blood, the pulse of my heart.

I’m not breathing, I gasp. The cold air cuts the back of my throat. Oh my Gods, how do I breathe? My stomach expands and it feels like I can feel the two pieces of my rib drag against each other.

Panic. Pain. I just want to die.

Please… just let me die.

Caderyn

Having wasted a day ransacking Akious’s house, which yielded nothing, I finally moved on to Haynes. He’d opened the door two days ago and now he’s about to float away on the River Styx. After the impulsive beating, I tied him to a chair and started a type of interrogation akin to stories from The Great War.

At last, he’d commented that “all the stuff is in the notebook”. Repeating that quite a few times, yet he was unable to clarify any further.

Leaving him to die – or not, I don’t really care – I start through his house. Viciously aware of how much time has passed since Delara was taken, I fail at being strategic while looking for the notebooks.

Loose papers flying, books tossed aside, in a second bedroom that’s full of junk, a find a stack of notebooks on a desk. Six thin, leather-bound notebooks tied closed with a strap. I grip them in my hand and head back to Haynes.

Kneeling in front of him, a thwack the stack against his shattered knee. “Wake up, fucker.” The sharp, shooting pain, different from the overall ache, his eyes open. “These it?”

He nods. “All the stuff is in the notebook.”

Noticing a burning smell of flesh and hair, I realize Haynes has a binding magik on him. Probably in place so he wouldn’t tell me anything, that’s why he’s been so vague. ‘All the stuff’ could mean anything, but means the plans, ‘are in the notebook’ not specific enough to get him killed but can still help me. For a second – a single, sliver of a second – I feel bad for torturing him to this extent. Maybe I’ll send a medic on my way out of town….

The first notebook has no writing in it whatsoever. I toss it aside. The second has some scribbles in the beginning pages, but nothing more than shopping lists or daily to-dos. The third has random sketches of plants with their name’s underneath. The fourth finally has something of interest: “The Forest Of Night?” my eyes lift to his.

He nods and the burning smell comes back.

I raise a hand, “Let me see if I can piece this together and if I’m correct, you only have to nod one more time, all right?”

“Akious pulled together a group of Pure-blood Devotees. Any interaction I’ve had with him, he seems to be the ringleader. Then he used you and your position at the post office to start intercepting Royal Mail.”

I look through the notebook for a moment, noticing some diary-type entries towards the back. “You didn’t want to kidnap Delara, but you also didn’t know how to stop it. Akious would have known it was you…. So, they took her.

“You were supposed to meet them later, with fresh supplies. But then I interrupted.” I sweep through the pages one more time before reaching for the fifth notebook. “And! And here’s the map you were supposed to follow.”

Staring at Haynes, his expression showcases the strength he is pulling together to either nod or shake his head. Ripping out the pages I need in the meantime, I try to feel sorry for him but can’t. He might not have been one hundred percent on board, but he was still a part of it.

Finally, I stare at him. His chest heaves and then he nods. The skin around his neck glowing red, the spellwork burn is worse than ever before. Like a needle being rapidly hit, the skin cools and has a tattoo-like scar.

I stand, I untie him. Right before I turn to leave, I ask, “Is she still alive?”

His eyes are sad, he only says “All the stuff is in the notebook.”

Delara

I tried to sleep, I really tried. To sleep and dream of the happiest moments of my life. To sleep and remember… remember, one last time, before I finally die.

But now I cannot sleep. I cannot sleep and I cannot get warm. The moisture from the waterfall coats everything like a thick, gooey blanket. No matter how tightly I curly around myself, I cannot get warm.

They have not fed me food nor blood and it is as if I can feel my stomach acid eating away at my throat. They have not fed me food nor blood and it is as if I can feel every bone in my body ready to rip through my skin. They have not fed me food nor blood and it could be days, but more likely hours until I die.

As my vision hazes, my body feels as if I am spinning in circles, I try and keep my mind clear… clear, and focused. I fear that if I am not logical, then I may go insane. So, I focus… focus on the cure.

Arsenic.

Blood transfusion.

It is possible… it could be done.

I close my eyes as my consciousness slips away. I figured it out, my last breath slipping through my lips, at least I figured out how to save him.