The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [30]
Burned. Burning. A gentle warmth coursing through her veins, soothing aching flesh and taking the pain away…
The venom of a vampire’s bite, working its way into her blood. The poison that calmed their prey, rendered them quiet and pliable while the vrykoloi drank their life away. She’d felt it before with Spider, as sweet and strong as poppy wine once it took hold.
The vampire’s grip numbed her arm—her strength was nothing against his. But she wasn’t alone.
Her diamond flared. Leather cracked and peeled and flaked away, and the spectral glow lit up the water as trapped ghosts answered her call. Their terrible chill seared her bones.
The vampire recoiled from the light, face hidden behind writhing dark hair. His hold loosened and Isyllt swung her knife. Clumsy, hampered by wet leather and wounded shoulder, but the blade sliced along his stomach. Black blood clouded the water, shredding and dissolving in the flow. She thought her lungs would burst as she kicked upward.
She gasped as she broke the surface, lungs screaming. Her right arm was numb to the elbow; she could barely feel the knife hilt against her hand. Her clothing dragged her down, threatened to pull her under again.
A hand closed on hers and lifted her out of the sewer. She gasped in pain as she fell onto stone, scraping her knuckles as she tried to keep hold of her weapon. The witchlight was gone, drowned in the morass of her pain and panic.
“Saints, you reek.” Spider’s voice. She struggled to her knees, raising the knife. “Put that down, witch.”
“Who—” She gulped another breath. Her stomach roiled. “Who was that?”
“I believe that was the rabble Tenebris mentioned.”
Starbursts of color swam in front of her eyes. She felt warm, though she couldn’t stop shivering. Heat trickled down her shoulder. Calling another light was an effort, and the flame sputtered and wept incandescent sparks. “Where’s Ciaran?”
Spider shielded his eyes with one long hand and pointed down the tunnel. “Back there. He’s in better shape than you.”
With trembling fingers she unbuckled her torn jacket and peeled it off. Her blood was nearly black in the eerie glow. The pain made her bite her already tender lip, but it wasn’t as bad as it should be. The poison would take hours to work out of her body. Languorous warmth lapped inside her head, promising peace if she would only close her eyes….
She shook her head, the pain in her neck holding lethargy at bay. Her stomach cramped and she retched, spitting fetid water and the remains of her lunch over the stones. She scrubbed a hand over her mouth and tried to control the nausea. Spider’s mouth quirked, but he wisely remained silent.
When her head stopped spinning she took the vampire’s proffered hand and leaned on his arm. The current had carried her farther than she’d realized. “What happened to the one who attacked me? I doubt I killed him.” A situation she would remedy if she had another chance. Her boots squelched with every step, water shifting between her toes.
Spider shrugged. “The water took him. I’ll try to find his trail once you and your friend are safely gone.”
She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing. “How did you know to come back?”
“I caught Azarné following you. I thought she meant you harm.”
“Azarné?”
“Her.” He pointed to a slender shape crouching beside Ciaran.
The light spilled over a delicate face half-hidden under elf-locked black hair. The vrykola who’d given Ciaran the coin. Eyes wide and gold as an owl’s stared up at Isyllt. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.” Her voice was soft and husky and accented. “I only wanted more music.”
Isyllt knelt by Ciaran and brought the light closer. Blood trickled down one side of his face, but his eyes were clear. He wrinkled his nose at the reek that clung to her. “Are