A Citadel of Captives Read online

  “Wait. What?” Elonora asked, her gaze darting between Toris and Amane in absolute confusion. “What is he talking about?”

  “Well, up until now it was just a rumor among us Faulties, but based on the look on her face, I’m inclined to say it’s actually true. Ta’Zan wants Amane back. He’s looking for her. None of us have the courage to fight her, though. We leave the heavy stuff for the Perfects to handle—”

  “You shut your mouth!” Amane hissed, baring her viper-like fangs.

  Toris’s lips were pressed into a thin line, his nostrils flaring. He couldn’t do anything, given Kailani’s spell. He couldn’t flee. And even if he had control over his body, he wouldn’t have dared to fight Amane. Still, there had to be some frustration within him, fueled by his inability to slit her throat. His hatred for her was more than obvious, blazing in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

  “Amane, what is he talking about?” I asked, repeating Elonora’s question.

  She sighed again. “You heard Toris. Ta’Zan wants me back. I don’t want to go back. Period.”

  “Why does Ta’Zan want you back, specifically?” I replied.

  Toris growled. “We’re not alone.”

  “Huh?” I managed, then heard the bangs echoing through the forest before I recognized Araquiel and Douma as they walked into the clearing from between the trees.

  My heart stopped.

  They’d flashed through the woods, to then stop and come in walking, like it was no big deal—just another day in the park. I instantly broke into a cold sweat, sharply aware of what was going to come next. Dread clutched my throat, squeezing until it hurt.

  Upon a second glance, Araquiel and Douma seemed even more beautiful. There was a subtle, ethereal glow surrounding them, amplified by their shimmering white silken tunics—they’d changed their style of dress, from what I could tell. Araquiel’s blue-and-green eyes still sent shivers down my spine.

  “Long time, no see,” Araquiel said.

  Amane froze, her eyes wide with sheer horror.

  Behind Araquiel and Douma were six other Perfects, emerging from the woods, one by one. I recognized Oriphiel and Elyon from last time, but I didn’t know the other four standing next to them. At this point, however, it didn’t really matter who they were.

  What mattered was that we were in the worst kind of trouble.

  The deadly kind.

  Elonora

  My survival instincts had already kicked in. My senses were heightened, my attention focused on the eight Perfects and my hand clutching my sword. I could hear their heartbeats. Oriphiel and Elyon were a bit more nervous than the others—if I had to guess, it probably had something to do with what Rose and I had done to them the last time we’d met.

  “It’s not like we missed you, though,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Araquiel smirked, measuring each of us from head to toe as if he was sizing up his prey for lunch. We were the hunted in this scenario, and my mind refused the concept altogether. We’d always been the hunters, the fighters, the avengers of those who could not defend themselves. Look at us now.

  His gaze settled on Amane, his grin stretching as he recognized her. “There you are!” he said. “Father’s been looking for you. You’ve been a very bad girl, Amane.”

  “One day, someone will put you back in your place, Araquiel,” Amane hissed, “and I’ll be there to watch you cry and plead for mercy.”

  “Oh, honey! You’re extra feisty today! What happened, Amane?” Araquiel replied, unwilling to let go of his mocking tone and bloodcurdling sneer. It didn’t matter how beautiful he was—his character made him downright hideous. He gestured at us. “Are you making new friends? Because if you are, you should know that these ones, in particular, are a terrible influence. Bad manners, poor habits, easy to kill. Darling, you can do so much better.”

  Amane rolled her eyes. “Who says I’m friends with them?”

  “Well, you’re not in any rush to kill them, or capture and deliver them to Ta’Zan, like you should,” Araquiel replied, then chuckled softly. “Although, to be fair, I don’t see you doing the latter, anyway. You’ve run away from home. The last thing you’d want to do is face Father. It doesn’t matter now, though. You’re going to see him, whether you like it or not.”

  Amane’s claws shot out with a brief crackle, as she took an attack stance. “Over my dead body.”

  The adrenaline was thundering through me, making every cell in my body vibrate.

  Araquiel sneered. “Don’t say that twice, dear. I might take you up on it.”

  “Father wants her alive, Araquiel,” Douma warned him.

  He gave her an irritated sideways glance, then shifted his focus back to us. “Now, who wants to go down first?”

  I understood then that Amane was of great importance to Ta’Zan. She wasn’t just another Faulty. He wanted her for something, and having her with us could give us a potentially tremendous advantage, if we played our cards right.

  First, however, we had to survive this.

  One quick look at Rose and I knew what I had to do. I was still buzzed from the Faulty blood, though barely, as it wore off quicker than Perfect blood. There were plenty of Perfects for me to drink from, though it made sense that they’d be more careful this time around. They were quick learners, after all. It was about to get vicious, fast.

  The Perfects darted out and around us, in a bid to have us surrounded and block us from running off. Kailani couldn’t just grab us and zap us out of here—they’d already figured out a way to block her teleportation ability, and I was dying to know how they’d managed to do that.

  We drew our swords and prepared for the worst.

  A thought then crossed my mind. What if the Perfects had come up with a method to stop us from drinking their blood, too? What if there was something toxic to us running in their bloodstreams? I couldn’t put it past them, not after everything we’d seen them do, already.

  “You killed hundreds of our people,” Rose said, setting her sights on Elyon. “Don’t think you’re not going to pay for that.”

  Ridan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  It dawned on me then that he hadn’t seen the fleet’s destruction. My heart broke just thinking about how we’d break the news to him, but this certainly wasn’t the place or the time. We had to focus on getting ourselves out of here in one piece.

  “We’ll tell you everything you missed after we rip their throats out,” I said. “I promise, Ridan.”

  “No, no, no,” Ridan retorted, anger flaring red in his aura. “You said they killed hundreds of our people! What are you talking about?”

  Araquiel smirked. “Three ships came in, looking for you and the others from your world. Only one made it back,” he replied. “Just proof of how superior we are, of course. Nothing else.”

  Ridan took several deep breaths, keeping his gaze locked on Araquiel. Judging by the look on his face, he had a score to settle with that particular Perfect, and Araquiel had just added more fuel to his fire. “How many dead?” Ridan asked.

  “Oh, I lost count—” Araquiel tried to speak, but Ridan cut him off.

  “Not talking to you, sticks-for-brains! Rose? How many dead?”

  Rose took a second to respond. “We’re not sure, but we’re estimating about two hundred, and approximately six hundred survived and captured.”

  “All the more reason to tear you to shreds,” Ridan growled, pointing a furious finger at Araquiel.

  He didn’t wait for a reply, this time. Ridan charged him at full speed, unleashing his fire breath. I didn’t have another second to watch him, as the other Perfects rushed around us, then began their attack.

  From our previous encounter, I’d figured out how they operated. I’d learned to anticipate hits from certain angles, so I was able to dodge several punches before they could break me. I darted away from Oriphiel, who’d chosen me as her opponent. There was a thread of fear coming out of her aura—I fed on it. She moved too
fast for me to try to syphon any energy off her, but I wasn’t out of options yet. I just needed a sip of her blood.

  Around us, a bloody melee ensued, as Rose and Ben focused on Elyon and another Perfect. Ridan had Araquiel all to himself, while Elonora and Nevis tackled two of the others. Dmitri and Kailani focused their efforts on Douma, aided by Hunter, and Vesta and Zeriel had the last of the Perfects.

  Toris was still stunned and unable to move. Amane didn’t leave us, but I caught glimpses of her moving around, watching us carefully and checking something in various spots at the bases of nearby trees.

  “I strongly advise you to surrender, bloodsucker,” Oriphiel said. “It beats dying bloody!”

  She came at me, as fast as lightning. I stilled and took advantage of the split second left before she’d ram into me. I locked on to her mind, ready to syphon. I also braced myself for the impact. She tackled me like a bull. My organs were shaken inside me as she pushed me backward into a tree.

  Two seconds. Then three, before she raised her fist to punch me and most likely break my face. I brought my knee up in a hard kick, buying myself a couple more seconds of syphoning as she blocked the hit. I’d dropped my sword, but I still had my claws.

  Her energy filled me with light. I felt as though I’d been plugged in, electricity running through me like a live circuit. Ten seconds of syphoning off Oriphiel, and something had already shifted between us. She didn’t even realize what was happening until I dodged another punch.

  She frowned, probably wondering if she’d slowed down or if I’d been a millisecond faster than her. That gave me another couple of seconds, and I pulled as much as I could in that window.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” she growled.

  Too late.

  She moved to ram both her fists into my ribcage, but I ducked. She wound up jamming both arms in the tree behind me, sending splinters flying around us. I sprang back up and tackled her, throwing her back. She gasped.

  Didn’t see this coming.

  I knew I only had fragments of seconds to make something of this fight before she got a chance to either maim me or kill me. I worked against time itself, but I had to turn the tables on her. My survival trumped hers. As she fell backward, I bit into her shoulder—the nearest part of her that I could reach.

  I sank my teeth in and suckled as much as I could before we both landed on the ground. She punched me in the side, cursing under her breath. I’d done the smart thing and kept syphoning, too. The frown on her face told me she was starting to feel the headache.

  If she bleeds, I can kill her.

  I kept saying that to myself, over and over, as I forced our dynamic to put me back in the role of predator. I was getting stronger, the Perfect energy filling me up to the brim and pumping me full of adrenaline. I’d barely felt her punch, though she’d most likely cracked a rib or two.

  “Get away from me!” she mumbled, trembling with rage.

  Oriphiel was confused. Part of her wanted to get back up and tear me a new one. But her survival instinct was kicking in, and it was more on the flight side. I grinned, then darted toward her. I tackled her again, just as she got halfway back up, taking her down. I ripped into her throat this time, right in the jugular.

  Blood filled my mouth. I heard her muffled groan. She struggled beneath me.

  That’s it.

  I managed to look up, just in time to see another Perfect’s foot headed straight for my head. The blow was so hard and intense, it made my ears ring. I was thrown backward, blood spurting out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure whether it was mine or Oriphiel’s, at this point. I made a hard landing, getting the air knocked out of my lungs.

  The Perfect landed on top of me, straddling my torso as he started punching my chest. I didn’t feel most of his hits, as I was still under the influence of Oriphiel’s energy and blood—the latter even kicking in and amplifying my strength, my speed, and my resistance. However, there wasn’t much I could do, as the bastard had me pinned to the ground.

  Nevis intervened and smacked him over the head with a club made of pure ice. It threw the Perfect off to the side, while I managed to get myself back up. I had trouble breathing, but things were moving too fast for me to slow down and worry about myself. One look at Nevis, though, and I could tell I’d incurred some serious physical damage.

  It seemed to set off a new and troubling reaction in Nevis, who stomped his foot and caused a thick layer of ice to swallow the Perfect whole, keeping him down for a good minute. It was enough for me to pick up my sword and notice that Rose, too, had managed to sip on some Perfect blood, delivering heavy blows left and right.

  We were still at a serious disadvantage. There was no positive end in sight, as the Perfects kept getting back up and striking with twice as much strength.

  “How are you still standing?” Nevis asked, staring at me in disbelief.

  He was panting. He’d been fighting hard, just like the rest of us, and it momentarily put him in a different light for me—he wasn’t the iffy royal I’d met anymore. He was a warrior, blood trickling from a head wound down his temple and sharp cheek and drenching his pristine white silk tunic.

  “Get down!” Amane shouted.

  We both turned our heads to find her standing by the tree where Ridan had been tied, holding a strange device in her hands. My synapses worked fast, and I pulled Nevis down. We fell flat on our bellies, as did the rest of our team.

  The Perfects stopped, all equally confused as they looked at us, then scowled at Amane.

  She gave them a cold grin, then pressed the big black button on the device. Hundreds of thin metallic threads shot through the air at lightning speed. They cut through the open space like insanely long knives and sliced the Perfects in half, all at once.

  Araquiel, Douma, and the others froze, their eyes wide. We all heard the sound of meat and bone being cut—much like a ninja sword splitting a watermelon in half. One by one, they came apart at their waists, their torsos separated from their lower bodies by diagonal cuts. My stomach was close to turning itself inside out, as the Perfects collapsed, taken apart by Amane’s strange contraption.

  They wheezed and gasped, their limbs twitching and their eyes turning glassy as they stared at us. They seemed… vacant.

  Silence fell heavy over us, broken only by the sound of Toris collapsing, also cut in half. Kailani was pale and covered in sweat, inches away from where he fell. Horror marred her otherwise beautiful features, as her trembling lips parted.

  “I… I forgot about him,” she mumbled, watching Toris as he gave his last breath.

  Amane tossed the device aside, then ran from one Perfect to another, fumbling through their tunic pockets and removing small, black, rectangular objects, which she proceeded to crush with her bare hands.

  We were all in shock, unable to move, staring at her and occasionally at the fallen Perfects.

  “What… What the hell just happened?” I croaked.

  Nevis and I were the first to get back up, while Hunter helped Kailani. She had trouble standing, not so much from the injuries, but because of Toris.

  “I didn’t even think to let him loose… or pull him down with us,” she said, her voice breaking. Tears filled her eyes.

  Hunter held her close as she unraveled. It made me hurt on the inside, seeing her like this. But I was even more baffled by what we’d just witnessed.

  “Amane, what the hell was that?” Rose asked, her eyes wide as she stared at the Perfects. Dmitri frowned, then crouched by Douma’s side.

  “They’re not dead,” Amane replied, tossing the last black device she’d just crushed.

  “They’re cut in half,” Ridan said.

  Amane exhaled. “It’s temporary. They’ll heal soon,” she explained. “It’s how they were designed. Before Ta’Zan let them loose, he made sure they couldn’t be killed by any of the conventional methods, decapitation and burning included. This… This will keep them down for an hour, tops.”

  “Holy crap,�
�� Dmitri breathed.

  “What were those things you just broke?” I asked, careful with my breaths, as a dull pain blossomed in my chest. I’d taken some serious hits, and, once the adrenaline subsided, I was going to feel a whole lot more, for sure.

  “The blockers they used to stop your witch from teleporting you out of here,” Amane replied.

  The more questions she answered, the more confused I got. “Hold on… You know what Kailani is?” I asked.

  Kailani had stopped crying, distracted by Amane’s statement. Deep down, I felt relief, since I loathed seeing her in any kind of pain. She’d been on edge since we’d landed on Strava, and I had a constant urge to protect her from anyone and anything who might hurt her. That stemmed from the years we’d spent together in The Shade.

  “I know what all of you are,” Amane said. “But now isn’t the time for this. We need to go.”

  “Yeah, not a good enough answer, sorry,” Ridan said, his brow furrowed. He was covered in soot and cuts from his scuffle with Araquiel, but he could easily stand on his own. He’d obviously learned a thing or two from his previous encounter with the Perfects, too. “How did you know about the devices? Also, how do the devices block Kailani’s ability to teleport?”

  Amane let out an exasperated sigh, then rubbed her face and pulled her hair back in a loose bun. She didn’t hide her frustration. “Ta’Zan has a witch in his possession already,” she said. “Corrine. He studied her abilities and genetic material and developed those devices to launch an electromagnetic field that would stop her from disintegrating on a subatomic level. Because that’s how your ability works, in case you didn’t know,” she added, looking at Kailani. “You break yourself apart into billions of tiny particles, then shoot through the fabric of space at the speed of light. Once you’re in particle form, you’re not bound by any of the laws of physics, anymore, but your consciousness continues to function and guide you. It’s why you can travel to any place that you can see or have already seen.”

  Kailani blinked once, then looked down. From what I could remember, witches had never been able to fully explain how their abilities worked. Until Amane.