Bound in Blood (Broken Bloodlines Book 3) -
Bound in Blood: Chapter 57
15 MINUTES BEFORE THE LIGHT GOES OUT
Ilook at all four of my sons, incapacitated and in need of my help. Never in my long, long life have I felt so helpless. But there are more answers I need from Lucian. When did you taste Ophelia?
I used to watch over her. To make sure the Skotádi didn’t replace her. When she was five, she cut her finger on a broken bottle at the playground. Her foster dad was too busy flirting with any woman who looked his direction to pay her any mind. She was bleeding pretty badly, so I helped her. I must have gotten some blood on my finger. I wasn’t careful enough. It was an accident.
And you felt her power then? From such a small taste?
I couldn’t have not felt it.
And you protected her?
His body surges upward, and I have to fight to hold him down as a vicious snarl pours from his lips. I watched her!
Okay. I believe you. Please lie still so you can heal.
Our eyes lock, and I take his slow blink as acquiescence and loosen my grip. So it was Giorgios who staged the attacks at the university. He tried to make me believe it was you.
He closes his eyes and does not answer, and grief and guilt bond into a single blade that cuts me to the quick. How did he become so powerful, Lucian? How did he gain such mastery over dark magic?
He did not master it. He has never possessed dark magic; he merely borrowed it.
My scholarly big brother, with the kind blue eyes and sharp wit, the man who taught me how to curse in six languages before I was ten … He borrowed dark magic? A mere four weeks ago, I could never have imagined the depth of his betrayal. From whom?
Lucian’s eyes flutter open. They are hazel, just like his mother’s, and I am filled with so much regret for what has passed between us that I struggle to catch my breath. A warlock named Salem. When Giorgios was little more than a boy, Salem made him a deal. He promised to grant him the power of transportation and teach him the dark arts if Giorgios agreed to serve him.
I have never heard of such a warlock.
He died almost two millennia ago. Giorgios somehow maintained the channel to his dark magic. It was how he formed the Skotádi.
Giorgios formed the Skotádi?
Lucian nods, then winces.
“Why is that still hurting you? Why are you not healing?”
I told you, it’s the Skotos. It’s still eating through my skin.
Despair fills me. So you are not healing?
I guess not. His rattling laugh is cut short by a coughing fit that has blood spraying from his lips. Droplets hit my cheeks, and I can only stare down at him.
He has been lying to me, allowing himself to bleed out in my arms. For what? Punishment? Mine or his? What if you take some of my blood?
No. You can’t. I can’t. He thrashes against my hold, giving me another glimpse of the rabid beast that seems to live within him. I won’t!
Why, Lucian? Why will you not let me try to save you? Perhaps he is trying to punish us both by dying in my arms.
His eyes are wild, glowing with delirium yet filled with an agony it guts me to witness. Because I killed them! I did what you think I did, and for that, I don’t deserve to live. Tears and snot and blood drip from his face.
Of all the things I now despise my brother for, allowing my son to suffer in this way for centuries is chief among them. But that was Giorgios, son. That was not you.
I will never forget their faces. Their terror when they realized what I was about to do. I knew what he was, and still I joined him. I followed him blindly …
I glare at the remains of my brother and wish I could raise him from the dead only to kill him again. You were a child, and he took advantage of you. I am sorry I was not a better father. Please let me be one now.
Lucian coughs, and a bubble of blood forms on his lips.
I will bite my wrist so you can feed.
Taking your blood would cause us to share a bond once more. I cannot bear it. Not after all the pain I caused. That is not something I can withstand. Please, just let me go. He grabs at my sleeve, his fingers struggling to replace their grip as he tries to cling to me even whilst begging me to let him go. His next word breaks me. Dad!
I rest my forehead against his. I am here. I will not leave you, son. I promise.
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