Revolution (Risen Series Bk2)

Thank you all for following Shylah's story, we've come so far.

I've already started writing book 3 but I like to get at least five chapters ahead before posting anything, and I need time to make a cover ,and come up with a blurb and title.

If you have a title idea, comment and let me know!

Till then, I will be posting the chapters I have for The North starting, hopefully, next week.

Chapter 27: The Blame Game

***

Kincaid unlocked the basement door, or maybe it was a more a prison door now, but paused before opening it. He turned back to with a grim expression, which didn’t bode well.

“Gideon is doing better but it’s only been a week, so don’t feel disparaged by his state. He comes in and out of awareness about where he is and who he’s talking to, and he hasn’t been feeding well from bottled blood.”

Straightening my spine, I nodded once. My mind had already been conjuring images of what I might see since I found out he was here. All I could imagine was how he looked when we found him; a howling, rabid animal covered in gore and his own mess. While I assumed they’d done their best to clean him up, I knew he wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

“I know what to expect, don’t worry,” I assured him, studying the unfamiliar concern etched in his features. “Are you coming in with me?”

“King’s orders.” He swung the door open. “I don’t let you out of my sight.”

Just how literally was he going to take that, I wondered. Though, there were worse people to be stuck with. Like Thierry. He and I would probably end up tearing each other apart, especially if Elaine wasn’t there.

The laugh that escaped me was humourless and Kincaid cast me a look over his shoulder that I ignored. Closing the door behind me, my nose immediately went to the air but every scent was overpowered by the stinging chemical smell of paint and something else. Wood polish maybe?

Gods. Atanas hadn’t lied when he said the basement cells were being redecorated. Descending the stairs, I took note of how much it had changed. Work must have started not long after we’d left for Rome. Flickering lights now hummed steadily overhead, almost blinding, but I supposed it meant no corner was left untouched. The red bricks walls had been plastered over and painted a dark cream to brighten the windowless space, and the floors had been scrubbed and redone in dark tiles.

Peering round the corner at the bottom step, I found the first few cells empty - of occupants at least. Work tables with tools scattered on the surface, paint, wood and everything else needed to build a prison capable of holding ancient vampires filled the small rooms. The ones towards the end appeared nearly finished. The cell I guessed was meant for Leyla even boasted a toilet and shower, but the blinking red lights of the cameras placed at every angle meant there was no lie about privacy. We would be able to watch her every move, and I didn’t doubt there was something in place for us to listen in too.

There must have been a security room set up, unless Kincaid was keeping it all on his laptop. He seemed to be the go to man for this type of thing. It was no wonder Airell had kept him close, and I wondered just how he’d managed to hide his loyalty to Atanas. Probably using whatever skills were keeping me from being handed over to the police.

“Was it really just a week I was out?” I muttered, rapping my knuckles against the strange thick glass that had replaced the old bars and rusted doors. Was this really strong enough to keep in Ancients?

“We’ve had this planned since we found the place. There will be law breakers at some point that may commit crimes that don’t warrant execution.” Kincaid replied. “One bonus to having so many vampires under one roof is we have members with many talents and connections, so the work has gone swiftly.”

Atanas was serious about these laws then, and it sounded like he had ideas for his own style of justice too. I didn’t believe in it. It may work for the humans, or it would if they went about it the right way, but vampires? We were stubborn creatures of habit thanks to long lives and next to no real accountability. But my days of being executioner were over.

Before I could stress over it, I took the final few steps to the second last cell. The lights had been dimmed here, casting distorted shadows across the stone floor. On the bed pressed against the back wall, a dark mass trembled beneath a pile of blankets. Even through the glass, the acrid scent of sweat and old blood filled every breath. I hoped the blood was from the crumpled plastic bottle tossed on the floor and not from Gideon.

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, my fingers brushing against the barrier between us. Shallow and shaky breaths rasped past Gideon’s lips, and one bloodshot green eye peeled open to pierce through the shadows.

“Can you hear me?” I whispered, for some reason feeling the need to not disturb the silence too much.

He nodded stiffly, his tongue sweeping out to wet cracked lips that bled in some places. His blonde hair was dark with sweat and matted to his skin, but the feral animal we’d found in Romania appeared to have calmed.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner.” My voice cracked and my palm flattened against the glass as if to try and comfort him. “I’m sorry we made you go in the first place. We should have found another way.”

Ignoring my apology, Gideon pushed himself upright on shaky arms but gave up and slumped against the wall. We stared at each other for a drawn out second, and I waited for him to scream at me, to curse me and blame me for all he’d endured. I forgot Kincaid was even there, skulking behind me even though nothing would be able to get to me down here.

When Gideon did finally speak, his words filled me with growing horror.

“You know what the worst part was?” he croaked. “It wasn’t being carved up. It wasn’t being fed on. It wasn’t being forced to hurt whatever human he dangled in front of me when I was starving. . .” He shook his head and gave me a cold smile. “It was that I could hear Airell's thoughts every time he came to me, and through that, the pleasure he took in experimenting with what would make me scream louder than before, the satisfaction of finding creative ways to draw enough blood without damaging me too much. While my mind was being bent from the agony my body was put through, and what I was forced to do, part of me was forced to enjoy it, because he enjoyed it.”

Bile burned the back of my throat.

Behind me, Kincaid stiffened and muttered something that sounded oddly like a prayer.

My ribs closed in around my lungs at the very notion of suffering such a thing. If I’d been forced to find pleasure in what Airell had done to me, it would have been my undoing. To have such an emotion twisted in that way. . .and of course Airell would have known what he was doing. Perhaps that was why he kept Gideon alive, who would get rid of a toy that could be tortured by the emotions of others?

“He’s dead now, I don’t know if they told you.” As if that would ease his suffering.

Gideon rubbed his face, reddening his cheeks as he did. “Someone did, I think. . .but it’s nice to hear it again. Sometimes I see and hear things that aren’t there and I don’t know what to believe. I’m glad it’s true.”

He smiled, but there was an emptiness in his expression that frightened me; the single note speech and lack of any real emotion betraying any pretence he attempted.

There was nothing anyone could do for him, not yet at least. Not beyond keeping him fed and offering an ear; though I didn’t think even talking would help him until the withdrawals wore off. Coming off Ailill blood was disorientating and tiresome. Those times had been some of my weakest moments. Even Airell would leave me alone until I either took more or came out the other side. There was no fun torturing someone who’s mind was that disconnected from their body.

Still, it unsettled me to see Gideon in a cell no matter how dangerous or unhinged he might have been. Una had proven her wards could keep the strongest vampire alive in a bedroom, so why could the same not be done for Gideon?

“You’re stuck in here and Leyla gets a bedroom with an en-suite,” I muttered, turning my accusing gaze to Kincaid.

My newest bodyguard narrowed his eyes but said nothing. It was Gideon who spoke out.

“I want to be here. It’s too loud up there, makes it harder to keep my head clear.”

That I could agree with. After all, hadn’t this been where I’d come when I needed peace and quiet? How many times had Una or Atanas had to drag me out of a cell and back upstairs? Too many to count, I was sure.

“As soon as you feel ready for a proper room, let me know. Anything you need, anything you want, if it’s within my power, it’s yours. You deserve that much and more.”

When my eyes found Gideon’s again, they looked right through me. He hadn’t heard a word. Blank eyes were almost all pupil with only a small ring of vibrant green, and sharp fangs peaked out from behind cracked lips.

I stepped back from the glass instinctively, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck prickling.

“We should go,” Kincaid grumbled, reaching out to grab my arm before thinking better of it when I glared. Instead, he tried to usher me back down the hall but I was rooted to the spot.

The change in Gideon happened quicker than a human would have been able to see. One second he sat quietly on his bed, unseeing and motionless, and the next he was giving Leyla a run for her money. Whatever memory wrapped him up in its web twisted his version of reality until I wasn’t even certain he recognised us anymore. All he saw was someone capable of inflicting pain.

Cracked and bleeding lips peeled back to reveal red stained fangs, followed by a warning hiss to back away. Only when he let out a panicked shriek and flung himself at the glass did I finally allow Kincaid to drag me away. Staying would only distress Gideon further.

I closed my eyes, drowning in his screams and the pounding of the glass as he tried to break free. Despite having managed a conversation, which was more than I thought he’d be capable of, my stomach still sank.

“Cages don’t help anyone.”

The thought slipped past my lips just as Kincaid pulled me up the last step and slammed the door shut, trapping the nightmarish sounds inside. He tucked the key in his jacket pocket and studied the way I turned in a slow circle, tugging at the roots of my hair.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to him, a charaid. Gideon volunteered to go. Thanks to him, we pinpointed Airell’s location quicker than we would have otherwise, if we would have found him at all. Who knows what we’d be dealing with now if we were so much as a day later, if we would even be alive that is. Leyla would be bathing in the blood of innocent humans and there would be Fallen tearing through the streets. We stopped that with the sacrifices we’ve all made.”

I scoffed, sparks flying from my fingertips. Some of our peoples’ sacrifices were heftier than others. Many vampires were grieving friends, mates, makers and made whose bodies were given burials while I’d been recovering.

“Gideon didn’t truly understand what he was getting himself into and it was my responsibility to tell him. To stop him.” Thumping my hand against my chest, the weight of it all came crushing down on my shoulders. “I keep fucking up, and dropping the ball, costing lives. Twice I’ve had to be rescued because I’ve walked into Airell’s hands. Twice! I knew not to trust Titus too, I knew it, and I didn’t try hard enough to persuade Atanas or anyone of that.

“Anna has lost her magic and become a creature opposite everything she’s ever believed in. Padraig is dead. Gideon is lost in replaying his torture. How many did we lose fighting Airell and his army? Names I don’t even know, and faces I might barely recognise when my own face might be what brings down our kind. How many lives will be lost if that happens? How can we even dream of stopping what’s been put into motion now?”

Panting hard once I’d finished raving, my last word echoed around the foyer but I couldn’t bring myself to care who heard. They were probably all thinking the same thing already anyway. Still, I should have saved it for later. Let it all out behind closed and soundproofed doors to Atanas.

Kincaid was surprisingly calm after such a tirade, those swirling whisky and honey eyes all too knowing. He rocked on his feet and tipped his head, considering my words before replying easily, “You and Atanas are too alike; both taking the blame for the actions of others. Gideon would have gone no matter what you told him because he felt it was his duty as much as you felt it was yours. Others tricked and manipulated you into returning to Airell. They used your love of your friends and your need to keep them safe. Padraig turned Anna, not you. It was thanks to you that she had a chance at a life, if one as a vampire, at all.

“And it was Airell and his followers who took the lives of our people, Shylah, not you. It isn’t your fault you didn’t know their names or their faces; you had your own troubles that took up your focus. Make an effort to get to know everyone now. Learn from your mistakes. That’s the only way to move forward. . . As for your face.” His lips quirked a little, his usual half smile, as if he didn’t want to be seen actually happy. “Well, if any face should bring down our world, I don’t suppose there’s a bonnier one.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he recoiled and cleared his throat. My cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment but I knew better than to mention it. He’d been trying to comfort me and I couldn’t mock him for that.

Besides, was right. All I could do now was learn from my mistakes and try to make better choices. Airell was gone, his followers dead or forced into compliance, there was no physical evil needing put in its place. Once the problem with the humans was over, we might actually have some semblance of peace. But I wasn’t an idiot. Not every vampire was going to so easily bend to whatever new laws we created.

“Either way, I won’t allow myself to be used and manipulated again, I won’t be made a fool of again. I need to know how to defend us against magic. I want to learn to fight, properly, with any weapon I can get my hands on.” Peering up at him with a sly smile, I knew my request would irk him. “Una can continue teaching me to wield magic, fuck, maybe even the crazy vampire upstairs can help. Atanas is a powerful warrior and I’m sure he’ll enjoy it when I ask him to teach me, but no one here matches your skill with a blade. If there’s an older-than-time demon thing running about, or another vampire decides to challenge Atanas’ rule, I have the feeling learning to use one will be handy. My dagger means I have to get closer to my opponent than I’d always like.”

Disbelieving eyes wandered over me, pausing at the dagger strapped to my thigh. I knew what he was thinking. Our last round with blades hadn’t gone too well for me, but that was exactly why I needed this. I knew I annoyed him, and that he’d rather be doing anything else, but I held hope.

Refusal hardened his gaze to a dark gold at first, but the moment I opened my mouth to insist, it was as if he knew it was a battle he wouldn’t win. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he gave me a wry smile.

“If Atanas agrees.” He eyed my dagger again and shook his head. “But you’re right, you’re going to need a bigger sword.”

I sniggered, but Kincaid blinked in a way that told me he was unaware of his play on the infamous movie quote. Of course he hadn’t seen Jaws.

“Movie night,” I muttered to myself, tuning on my heel to wander around the halls. “This place needs a movie night.”

Unperturbed by my talking to myself, Kincaid dutifully followed my aimless skulking. I needed time to think over everything, process all I’d been told in such a short span of time. No wonder Atanas had dismissed me. He probably expected me to crack at the seems once I’d seen Leyla in our home. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t by the end of the night; while the house looked empty, a chorus of voices and noise droned on and on. It sounded like everyone had congregated in the big communal room that boasted TV’s, games, and a top of the range coffee machine I swore would turn into a Transformer.

My nose scrunched.

There would be no quiet while so many were still here.

Slowing down to listen in, there was too much chaos to pick out individual words. From the sounds of it, they had the radio on as well as the television.

“Did Atanas dismiss everyone, or has he ordered those who've stayed to remain?”

Catching my meaning, Kincaid’s lips quirked at the corner and revealed the dimples that gave him boyish charm. “Are you asking if this place is always going to be so full of your subjects, Your Majesty?”

Grumbling, I moved past the door. I’d just lamented the fact I didn’t know the names and faces of those we’d lost and here I was complaining that some had decided to move in.

“I’m sure once everyone feels safer, more secure, more will return to their own homes and lives. Most of them live in the country anyway and are only here until things are all cleared up. . . “ He paused, tipping his head in thought, and I slowed my pace to walk next to him. “But you might find a few decide to stay. Vampires get a reputation for being loners, but there’s never been a place like this. A place for them to feed safely, sleep comfortably, and relax amongst their own kind. I believe the way a lot of us pull away from others, from humanity even, is why so many of our kind lose our way. Being alone isn’t healthy. I think you know that.”

His words hit too close to home. Looking back towards the shut communal room door where relaxed chatter and occasional laughter echoed around, a small smile made its way to my face. Maybe Kincaid was right. The sounds filling the halls weren’t cries of the damned or the screams of tortured humans being fed on by evil blood drinkers. It was friends finding comfort in each other when outside these walls, the world was close to turning upside down.

Wouldn’t it be nice to wake to that? To know there was always someone here?

“They trust you and Atanas to keep them safe, to lead them through this. They’ll offer their support as much as they expect you to offer yours. While not many have been through anything close to what you have, Airell effected their lives too. Many of them have done things that haunt their sleep, things they regret and want to atone for. They’ve wanted makers to be parental figures instead of masters. They’ve dreamed of a life in the dark without having to give up pieces of their soul too.”

The way he looked at me made me feel he’d wanted to say all this to me for a while. Had I lost sight of the reason we were doing what we were? Had I ever really understood what Atanas wanted to create for us? I’d been so focussed on revenge for me. On killing Airell so I could rest knowing he wouldn’t hurt me again. Complaining the whole time about wanting peace and quiet, to be left alone, for all to hear. . .

Perhaps I’d let the stereotypes of our kind tint even my view of other vampires, but who could blame me? I’d had fewer good interactions with vampires than damn midges. Living in a house full of them hadn’t been on my ‘life after Airell’ plan. I’d thought of a cottage out in the middle of nowhere, maybe by the sea... but so what if helping our kind meant learning to live like college lass in student halls?

Maybe it would be fun.

Maybe it wouldn’t, but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

When my gaze met Kincaid’s again, it was with a newfound respect. “You have a way with words, Caid. I get why Atanas keeps you around. I’ll try and be more welcoming, okay?”

He cringed at the nickname and cleared his throat. “Yes, well. I’ve had over a century to think about exactly what I fight for and why. We may be close in age, but your experience of the outside world and community is sorely lacking.”

There was the Kincaid I knew, insulting my peopling abilies.

Gods, did I really have to have him follow me around everywhere I went? It wasn’t going to make finding the new, happy to be social Shylah, easy. Hopefully Cammi would be rotated as one of my guards too, I could use a woman to talk to. Even if she was seemingly smitten with a man as stuck up and frigid as Kincaid.

I sighed, fingers trailing across the wall as I wandered further into the house.

I missed Anna.

It had barely been two weeks since I’d seen her last and I so wished to hear her voice. Thoughts of her overcame any other, concern for her wellbeing tormenting each step. Zena would keep her safe, I knew that, but what if she never recovered?

It was only when I lifted my head to ask about a new phone so I could at least let her know I was here if she wanted me, that I realised I’d been headed towards the room she and Padraig had shared. Unable to help myself, I stepped in to find the room untouched. Tears stung my eyes as I breathed in, finding Padraig’s salt sea scent fading away.

Some of his knick knacks still sat on the various tables dotted about the room, alongside ancient book, and maps both old and new, that had helped him be the great procurer he was.

I hiccupped on a sob trying to escape, clutching my jumper closer to me. Kincaid lingered in the doorway behind me and I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my head. I couldn’t bring myself to face him.

“His funeral will be at the weekend. Padraig wanted to be returned to Ireland, buried on the land his father owned so he could be with his family. His beliefs will see that the old gods reunite him with us all one day.”

I nodded. In my human life, I might have had such beliefs too, now I wasn’t so sure.

Returning him to his homeland was the way it should be. Though travelling to Ireland was surely off the cards for me. Peering over my shoulder, the hope in my expression must have given me away.

Kincaid remained stony faced, but I knew the loss hurt him too. “Atanas won’t go without you.”

But that didn’t mean he’d go with me.

Looking away again, my hands fisted by my sides. Everything was wrong. Padraig should still be here. I should have been able to save him. What was the use in being one of Leyla’s descendants, a being supposed to be capable of great power, if I could barely keep myself safe, if I couldn’t protect those who looked to me? Not that anybody did. If Atanas left, or died – and that thought made my stomach twist until I was sure I was going to be sick – nobody would follow me.

Today was just so crushing.

Part of me wished I hadn’t woken up at all.

And why was the room suddenly spinning?

A sharp pain shot up my neck, and perhaps it was my growing panic that sent my body reeling again. I’d fed more in he last day than I had in my entire existence and still my body felt like a small breeze would topple me over.

Trying to turn around and escape the room nearly brought me to my knees and my hand flew out to catch myself against the wall but missed. Knees buckling, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited to hit the floor but it didn’t happen. Instead, the ground grew further away and it took my addled mind a second to realise Kincaid had caught me. An arm around my waist, he hoisted me up easily, his other arm going under my knees.

“I’m fine, put me down.” I gasped, pretending my speech wasn’t slurred and the world wasn’t blurring in and out of focus.

“You’re not fine,” he argued, turning around and marching back down the hall. “Let yourself rest. You’re going to need a few more days and a lot more blood before you’re better.”

Irritated and furious with my own weakness, I flailed in his hold but it didn’t so much as slow him down. Atanas had probably ordered him to take me straight to bed at the first sign of stress.

With a heavy sigh, I slumped in his arms and stared up at the moving roof. “I need to be better now. Everyone needs me to be better.”

Slowing slightly, Kincaid’s voice became firm. “And you will. You’ll be what your people need, Shylah. Atanas will show you how to lead, and we’ll both turn you into the warrior you want to be. But if you keep being so stubborn, you’ll end up killing yourself.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The slow burn of hunger made itself known again as my fangs pierced my bottom lip and my stomach growled. Exhaustion made my limbs heavy and I barely noted where we were going until Kincaid paused at a door I hadn’t seen before and pushed it open with his boot.

“Does nobody in this damn place knock!”

I chuckled weakly at the irritated voice of my mate. We entered a small office room that was bare of everything except a desk and two chairs on either side. Atanas stared out the only window into the dark night sky with the orange glow of the city not too far away dulling the shine of any stars.

When Kincaid didn’t announce while he struggled to shut the door again, Atanas spun around with blazing blues, fangs bared and hands fisting by his side. For a second, his anger seemed to grow as took in the sight of us. Muscles flexed and the vibration of a growl built up, it disappeared as soon as Kinacid placed me carefully in the seat sat before the metal desk.

The two men locked eyes and I glanced between them both curiously.

“Is she okay?” Atanas asked, making me roll my eyes.

“She’s fine,” I replied, trying and failing to push myself to my feet but one sharp look made me stop.

Kincaid bowed his head and backed away to the door. “I’ll send someone up so she can feed again.”

Jeez, did either of these men realise I was here and that they could address me directly?

Atanas nodded, some of the tension melting away. “Thank you. The list of who can hunt tonight has been sent to you.”

“I’ll let everyone know.” Kincaid bowed again, and while I was used to his formality, something struck me as off. “My King, my Queen.”

Not that I had time to think about what it was.

The door clicked shut and the usual armour my mate wore in front of others came crumbling down. He tried to hide it; the tears that glittered under the light and the red that rimmed his eyes, but he didn’t turn away quick enough.

He’d been crying.

No wonder he was so furious Kincaid had just barged in.

The hunch to his shoulder’s and the rattle with every breath he took unsettled me. I stared at his back with growing unease but I didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Waves of grief washed through the bond to join my own and my heart broke all over again.

How long had he been keeping all this in? How long had he had to keep his facade in place to make sure his people were safe, that I was safe? Had he given himself time to mourn at all? I doubted it. And I felt horrible. I should have been the one to allow him to break, to comfort him, and instead he’d had to wait until he was alone.

Shaking his arms out, he straightened up and fixed the cuff of his sleeve, his voice lacking it’s usual depth as he spoke, “I’m sorry if my emotions caused you distress.”

I choked at his strained words, shaking my head in disbelief even though he couldn’t see me. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Even kings are allowed to grieve, Atanas. You lost your friend.” My throat closed up and my own tears spilled over. “And it was my fault.”

He turned and darted over before I got the last word out, crouching before me to clasp my hands tight in his. “The only one to blame is dead and gone. It is up to us to make Padraig’s sacrifice mean something.”

Back was the firm confidence I was used to.

Sliding one hand free, I cupped his face and brushed away stray tears with a sweep of my thumb. I loved him all the more in that moment, for allowing me to see him like this, at his weakest and most vulnerable. It only pained me that the cause of it was the death of one of his oldest friends. Leaning down, I pressed my forehead against his and for a moment we sat breathing each other in, letting ourselves feel the loss.

Hearing Atanas struggle to catch his breath through quiet sobs wasn’t something I’d ever forget, and each time his shoulders tensed as he tried to hold it in, I grew ever angrier with the hand we’d been dealt. Furious even. Because we wouldn’t get the time we needed to heal before we had to face whatever was coming next, deep down I knew that.

Why couldn’t the gods, or fate, or whatever it was, give us some time to put ourselves back together? Why did fate want to keep torturing us?

“You need to go to the funeral,” I whispered, running my fingers through his thick hair.

“I can’t,” he argued, pushing himself back to his feet. He took a deep breath and pulled a handkerchief out of thin air to dry his face. “I’m needed here. There’s too much to do and I’ve already left too much to Una and the others so I could be by your side while you recovered.”

“We can manage for a few days,” I insisted. “Go. Say your goodbyes properly, as Padraig would have wanted. Anna is going to need you too, her entire life revolved around him. I can’t imagine how lost she must be feeling now. Drop some whisky on his grave for me too.”

He glanced back at me in wonder, and I shrugged. “I know I can’t go, and even if I could, one of us should stay here for our people. Make the arrangements. Tell me what you need me to do while you’re away and I’ll do my best to get it done as perfectly as you would.”

A smile wasn’t what I expected. Nor was the thorough kiss that stole the breath from my lungs and pushed the gnawing hunger away. Heat and need for him drove my fingers to grip his shirt and pull him closer. His knee pressed beside my thigh, his body shielding me from the world. For a few stolen moments, we fled harsh reality to get lost in each other, using the other as an anchor. As we always did. As long as we had this, everything would be okay.

The world could try and take from us again, this time we would be ready.

I would be ready.