The temperature in the kitchen plummeted to an arctic degree, beading the wide window in condensation and washing my flesh in a shiver of goosebumps. Terror trembled along my bones from the tips of my toes to the ends of my fingers. Fingers that were instinctively reaching to my side, unconsciously seeking...

Seeking the reassurance of my wooden spoon.

A wooden spoon that wasn't tucked inside the belt at my hip.

A wooden spoon I now knew the truth of.

Stale breath coiled around my figure like unfurling fog. "Do you have wyrmblood, Tabitha?"

Oh gods...

I shook my head, no.

My short, frantic breaths were exhaled in whitish puffs, clouding the window's surface further. The world outside slowly disappeared. It was just me and that thing, alone, in a bone-chilling kitchen drenched in gloom.

"You promised you'd get it," the creature snarled.

Its gruesome need unspooled in the damp freezing air, thick with menace.

The bloodhound whimpered and cowered, shrinking into a tiny ball deep inside.

"I will, I will," I cried, my voice weak and quavering. "I'll have a vial tomorrow night. I need more time." The clutch in my hand shook as fright slashed through my brittle nerves.

I flinched with a terrified gasp, my limbs locking rigid.

A thorny sting at the back of my neck.

A deadly talon dragged slowly downward in a sinister path that sliced shallowly through the skin. Heat flared outward as wet warmth drizzled from the wound to trickle down the groove of my spine. "Too late, Tabitha," it murmured, "you had your chance."

Unfathomable panic crushed my lungs.

Breathe...breathe...

It leaned even closer. Its rasping voice tingled the curve of my ear. "Who is this man carrying wyrmblood in his veins?"

I fisted my free hand so tightly that my fingernails bit through the soft flesh of my palm. I'd never reveal it was Varen. I shook my head, my mouth pressed into a defiant line.

"Who is he?!" The words ripped outward like rumbling thunder.

I stood frozen, quaking in terror.

A crack of bones.

A rustle of silky fabric.

Thin, gnarled fingers with black-tipped talons rested on my shoulder, drumming slowly, as it made a considering hum at the back of its throat. I gritted my chattering teeth together and almost recoiled in revulsion at the prickle of bristled skin swiping slowly up the side of my face. It pressed its cheek to mine in a perverse gesture of affection. In the clouded window was a distorted faint impression of an elongated humanoid face with a too-pointy chin.

The thing drew in my scent through its nose. A gust of breath blew out, quivering tendrils of my hair as it chuckled darkly. "I can smell man, Tabitha."

Every thought eddied out of my mind but for one.

No, no, no, no...

"His scent is all over you," it whispered.

Oh gods, what have I done?

Yet, I hadn't been thinking when I'd gone to find Varen on the inner balcony of the Banquet Hall. I'd only meant to send him away somewhere safe. But I'd melted in his arms and kissed him.

"He's the one who carries wyrmblood," rasped the dark creature.

I frantically shook my head, no.

"Liar," it hissed, a thin forked tongue flicking out.

Spinning around, I choked back a shriek.

Taller, much taller than Aunt Ellena, it raised itself to its full height and loomed above. I cowed as its nightmarish shadow cast me in darkness. The many-eyes clustered across its forehead blinked as one. It studied the guilt and fear carved into my features through milky-white irises and tiny pupils. My aunt's face, its face, had paled with black veins spider webbing beneath the cruelly cut angles, but now black bristles had sprouted in patches across its cheeks. "Where is he?"

I raised my chin, mustering my tattered courage. "I won't tell"

It loosened a snarl of fury. "Skorn needs his blood for her spell!"

"And I have everything in here to steal it. Give me time," I begged, raising the clutch where the sleeping potion and needle were stuffed inside.

All the moisture dried up in my mouth as it tipped its head back and sniffed.

My gaze snapped upward, following its line of sight to the industrial ceiling with its labyrinth of industrial piping and air conditioning vents. "Ahhhh..." it rumbled.

Dizziness made me sway as I realized in horror how it intended to hunt Varen. I pressed my hands together, the sequins of the clutch digging into my palms, and implored, "No, please, you can't—"

"You can't save your aunt without his blood, Tabitha." Slivered teeth shone dully in the gloom as its slashed mouth curved into a grotesque smile. It leaned down so we were barely a nose apart. The reek of stale spices and dead animal fanned my chilled cheeks with every sinister breath it expelled. It fixed its many eyes on me and there was nothing but dark triumph glowing in their milky depths. "I'll split his head open and scoop out his brains. I'll drain all the precious wyrmblood into his empty skull and use it as a vessel."

Pure terror, withering and debilitating, erupted into an endless maelstrom.

In a blast of speed, it was gone. The violent movement shoved a rush of air outward and knocked me off balance. I stumbled, slapping a palm on the edge of the cold, slick countertop.

A rattle of copper pots clinking up against one another was a rain of discordant wind chimes, tolling doom.

A great hulking figure crawled across the kitchen ceiling to an air vent.

And then...

Its misshapen figure warped and waned and turned insubstantial. The thing became nothing more than viscous inkiness wreathed in smoky shadows.

My aunt's evening gown fluttered down in a ripple of green.

Her high heels bounced and clattered upon the hard floor.

Horror almost buckled my knees as it slunk through a thin gap in the vent like a spider it disappeared into the air ducts.

I rushed forward to scoop up Aunt Ellena's dress and shoes. Some instinctive part of me was still alive, still working as it had always done over the years to protect my aunt and the secret she carried inside. I dashed to the rubbish bin and manically shoved the clothing beneath empty cans and wrapping paper to hide it all beneath a layer of trash.

Lurching sideways, I lunged, reacting as desperation and fear and anger collided. My fingers wrapped around the cold hilt of a boning knife and I ripped it from the wooden block.

I was gone, chasing after it.

Adrenaline exploded through my nervous system like a match to gasoline.

My high heels were slippery and cumbersome and clapped noisily against the tiles as I raced from the kitchen.

It would find Varen's scent in the air filtering through the ventilation system.

I needed to get to Varen before it did.

I wouldn't let it hurt him.

Nor could I let Varen kill it, my aunt, either.

My long skirt was hitched up around the fist holding the clutch, the other held the boning knife. I pumped my arms, my legs, sprinting faster, faster, faster.

I fled down the corridor and instead of heading back into the Banquet Hall, I barreled straight ahead—

Slammed through a doorway—

The crash of solid wood against the wall boomed behind me as I ran on.

My feet lost purchase on the marble floor as I careened around a corner and scrambled to get my footing back underneath me.

Crashing through a secret doorway of a servants' shortcut, I negotiated the staircase in the dark—

Up, up, up, I climbed—

To erupt briefly into brilliant light and the golden-papered hallway of the Deniauds' mansion, only to plunge into the pitch-black darkness of another secret passageway.

Up, up, up, winding flights of steps—

Plowing through a hidden door—

Back into an elegant hallway.

On and on I hurtled, down hallways and up majestic staircases with metal-ivy balustrades to a part of the mansion that was always eerily quiet and empty.

I skidded to a halt in front of Varen's bedroom door, my lungs on fire, my muscles burning, my sweat-slick chest heaving for breath. My terror so keenly felt I could barely twist the doorknob with a shaking hand.

I didn't know what I'd find inside.

I didn't know if it had gotten to him already.

The door swung open quietly and as it yawned wider, the bedroom lights crackled and fizzed and winked out, draping the room in darkness but for the moonlight pouring through the window. Fingers of pale insipid light crept over Varen who lay sprawled on his bed and it turned his figure of peaceful repose into a statue.

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until it whooshed out the moment he minutely stirred in sleep. I slapped the back of my hand across my mouth to stop the anguished sob.

He was alive.

My footsteps were silenced by the thick carpet when I entered the room, shutting the door behind me. Quiet, so terrifyingly quiet in his bedroom but for the tick, tick, tick of an old-fashioned clock on the fire mantle.

Inching closer to the huge waterbed, my gaze slid over the open bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, and my nostrils flared at the smell of spicy alcohol tainting his breath, droplets soaked into the collar of his armored jacket. Drunk and passed out perhaps?

Varen was an enforcer. A lord of violence. And I'd been terrified he'd attack the thing, not knowing it was my aunt, and slay it. Now it was up to me to make sure it didn't kill him.

Varen's imperious features were relaxed in sleep with ruffles of midnight black hair dipping across his forehead and grazing his closed eyelids. Asleep, he looked much younger and more vulnerable.

My shoulder's stiffened. My fingers tightened on the boning knife.

The bedroom air had a crisp autumnal feel to it, growing colder and colder and colder, driving my heart to thunder against my ribs.

A spine-tingling caress of rank air flowed downward and skittered over my clammy flesh.

Slowly, so slowly I craned my head back as an inky liquid shadow slipped through the air vent to ripple across the ceiling like churning smoke. The dark creature solidified in flashes hidden amongst the swirling gloom gathered overhead. Macabre limbs, disjointed and bony. Tips of talons. Many-eyes. Razor spikes. The darkness bled away to reveal an ill-shapen figure. Its naked form with its thrawn limbs was much like an ancient tree that had seen the turning of years, the way days passed for us humans.

I clambered onto the waterbed to be nearer Varen, to protect him as best I could. He rolled with the gentle waves of contained water, stirring slightly and muttering in sleep, but he didn't wake. I lifted my gaze to the malevolent darkness crouched on the ceiling. "Please, please, you can't," I whispered, begging.

Its eyes slit. "I need to be free of this decaying body. I won't wait another seven years until the next Witches Ball. Your aunt won't survive me either."

I raised my clutch above my head like an offering. "I can do this now, tonight. I can collect his blood, enough for what we need."

Varen was fast asleep. I could steal it and if he woke and caught me out, I could spin it into a dream.

It was perched high above, its taloned toes sticking to the ceiling like an insect. It stretched its upside-down figure to dangle like a dark teardrop right above Varen's head. The cruel mouth gaped obscenely wide as it fixed its gaze on Varen. A forked tongue slathered the air right above his parted lips, whistling out a sleepy breath. It stilled. Its eyes shut briefly as its features twisted in perplexion, before murmuring, "So familiar..."

It was a sickly punch to the gut.

Before I had time to follow the thought all the way to the end of the thread, what it meant, the creature snarled, "I need his blood and I'll take it how I see fit." It jerked a pale arm back, muscles taut, fingers curling. Dim light glanced off razor-sharp talons readying to slash apart Varen's throat.

I thrust the knife at the beast's head. "Don't do this. Let me steal his blood. Let him live."

The thing recoiled out of reach as fast as a blink.

I rose up on my knees, angling the knife closer where it was suspended on the ceiling. Its soft laughter was cruel and amusing.

I wished I held Zrenyth's dagger. The wild magic of mist and shadow wavering around the god's blade was more intimidating than a pathetic boning knife. "If you d-don't..." I stuttered, fumbling for leverage, my clammy grip slippery on the knife's hilt as I threatened it, "I will burn the crown of a princess. I will let the last breath of a dying man expire in the wind." It couldn't be freed without all the rare items Skold required to unbind it from my aunt.

"You wouldn't dare," it snarled.

"Try me," I whispered back.

"Your aunt will die," it hissed. Its fury and unease became tangible and whipped the freezing air, tossing strands of my hair and billowing my dress in waves of silk. "Is that what you want, Tabitha, for your aunt to perish so you can save this man?"

The boning knife shook in my hand and the weapon lowered with my hesitation. Tears swam in my eyes as my heart fractured with the choice. A quiet wail of despair tore from my throat.

I don't know. I don't know.

Neck bones cracked as it snapped its head to the side in a snake-like movement, eyeing me like a strange thing. Its tone became wispy in rumination. "You care for him far deeper than you've yet to acknowledge."

I inhaled sharply. The truth, the astonishing, startling truth reforged the fissures in my broken heart.

Yes...Yes, I do...

I loved him.

I couldn't...I wouldn't let him die.

In a rush of movement so swift I could barely discern, the knife was gone and my fingers clutched nothing but air.

The crunch and grinding of metal filled the bedroom and scraped inside my ears. The boning knife was offered back in a scaly palm, nothing more than a ball of ruined metal. "Stand aside, Tabitha."

I shook my head as tears glided down my cheeks and wet my quivering lips.

It moved, fast—

Lunging, snapping its fangs right at my face—

I reared back, falling off-balance, biting back a scream—

In my panicked flight, I bodily smacked the bedside table with a tumultuous jolt, tipping it over. The bottle of whiskey flew through the air—

Bounced on the carpet, struck the stone hearth—

And smashed into glistening shards.

A whorl of spicy-oaky sweetness plumed upward, blooming and tampering the air, completely hiding the stench of the dark creature.

The cacophony of smashing glass and splashing alcohol woke Varen up.

He jerked upright. His movement was so swift and powerful, a blur of flesh and speed I could barely see, nor anticipate what he'd do. Furious hands grabbed my upper arms and suddenly I was yanked sideways and flipped over.

My back hit the mattress with a heavy thump that rocked the waterbed beneath me.

A forearm was shoved up against my throat with straining strength, pushing and pressing down, cutting off my air supply.

My fingers banded the corded, bulging muscle of his arm, squeezing, digging my nails into armor it could never penetrate.

I couldn't breathe...

Varen had rolled to hover on top of me. His body blocked out the moonlight and shadows cast his fierce expression into menace. He glared, his eyes glowing with that otherworldly sheen I'd remembered as a child. Yet there was a filmy quality to his gaze as if he were still caught up in sleep, one foot still in the dream world.

Black dots expanded on my periphery, seeping inward.

My hands inched up his arms to his throat, to frame his clenched jaw. I wheezed out his name. "V-Varen."

He blinked and his gaze sharpened. " Tabitha?" His voice was slurred with a faint hint of whiskey tainting his breath. Remorse and horror chased each other across his features. He lurched backward, releasing the pressure on my throat.

The sweetened air whistled into my burning lungs and I sucked on it greedily. I kneaded my raw and ravaged throat with a hand.

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm okay," I replied quickly. My voice was hoarse and painful. I eased to sit upright.

He dragged a hand through his messy hair. "Fuck." The word tore from him in anguish. He leaned forward, his large hands gingerly tracing my cheekbones, feeling and assessing my neck, not knowing that the thing lurked right above him, its talons poised to slit his throat. "Did I hurt you?" he asked in a croaky, sleep-coated voice.

"No, no. I'm fine," I lied, then gasped out a sob and threw myself at him. I hid my face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight. Breathing him in. Stealing his strength and warmth. His arms folded gently around my back and he held me close, whispering sorry, over and over again, an endless litany of apology.

Raising my gaze to the ceiling—Please—I mouthed at the thing, crouched amongst the gloom.

Its nostrils flared and it bared its fangs in a silent snarl as its eyes darted from me to Varen. Its desperate need for wyrmblood flared into fury and ripped across its ghastly features.

Please...I promise I'll steal his blood. Please—I begged, squeezing my arms tighter around Varen.

For a long moment, the thing remained in the darkness, its talon-tipped fingers flexing back and forth as it warred with me.

It reluctantly drew back on a soundless hiss, scuttling across the ceiling and down the wall, morphing into inkiness to slither like a shadowy spider through a crack in the windowsill.

Worry frayed Varen's tone and his voice, rumbling from his chest, vibrated against my own. "Tabitha, what are you doing here?"

There was no way to explain myself.

I pulled back to face him, hoping he didn't think my tear-slick cheeks were anything else but a fearful reaction to his sleep-startled attack. With shaky hands, I pushed the hair away from his forehead before smoothing my fingers along his stubble-dusted jaw. He parted his mouth to speak, to ask me something no doubt. I lunged forward, and my momentum had him falling to his back with a startled oof. I clutched the collar of his adamere jacket and slammed my lips upon his.

I kissed him.

I kissed him to silence the questions he had.

Questions I had no idea how to answer.

But more importantly, I kissed him because I needed him.

*** RISING will be returning to a free story on 1 July, 2024 ***