The Queen of Blood

Ch 22: New Enemies and Old Friends

Sharp pain radiates from my temple as I slump against cool, curved stone, something stinging against my wrists. My eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly in the dim light.

Dark, rock walls arch up on either side of me forming a tunnel. Nicole, David, Archer, Eloise, and the two other guards sit across from me, their hands and mouths encased in matching gleaming, metal coverings. Silver and mountain heart if I had to guess. For a moment I make a mental note to tell Cole about this— it looks like a safe way to secure vampires while keeping them contained— before I remember the events of the past month.

Nicole. David. Celestia.

Celestia.

Fuck.

I'm whiplashed by the memories of the attack. David's warning cry. The flashes and streaks of dark as they closed in. Quickly drawing my bow and attempting to draw an arrow as Eloise leapt into action, clashing straight on as a werewolf lunged into her. She had barely ripped its throat open before two others sunk poisoned blades into her. Before I could even pull an arrow back I was blindsided, flung by a painful force into the side of a tree where I must've hit my head.

Scrambling, my fingers fiddle with the rope binding my hands behind my back while I squint, trying to count the number of silhouettes within my line of sight. Twelve werewolves are scattered across the cavern, sitting back on their haunches, leaning over meek fires trying to get warm. Maybe fifteen with the way the shadows flicker.

Eloise's eyes are burning into me, the entire bottom half of her face covered by metal. I can see she's trying to tell me something through her gaze, which seems almost desperate.

Archer seems a little worse for wear, a deep, crimson gash running the length of his body, his breaths coming in quick and shallow.

The air is silent save the occasional drip of water on rock and their dull, incoherent conversations. I clench my teeth together to stop them from chattering.

Caves. We're in the caves.

Awesome.

To my right sits Patrick, also gagged and bound, and next to him a boy who looks remarkably like my brother. He's hunched over his knees, eyes tightly shut. Luke has the same dirty blonde hair and freckles dripping down his nose, except that this guy is missing the startling bright green ey—

Luke's gaze locks onto me and my heart stops.

I blink rapidly, opening my eyes and focus on him, half willing it to be an illusion and half willing him to really be here, five feet away from me. My heart soars and dives like a bird within my chest.

Luke is alive.

He's alive he's alive.

He must have made it home after the ambush by the waterfall. I hear werewolves scuttling closer but I don't give a fuck, I can't tear my gaze away from my brother. Luke stares back at me, his eyes wide and incredulous, mirroring my disbelief.

What the fuck is he doing here...

I can see three crouched figures around the fire, another in the shadows sharpening a weapon of sorts and seven or eight others scattered on different boulders and ledges.

Werewolves... In the caves.

My stomach twists uncomfortably as I realize this could mean they could have actually figured out how to use the system.

Shit gets complicated if that's the case.

I try to focus on the murmuring coming from the fire, my hands twisting and pulling in vain at the ropes binding my wrists, my eyes darting around trying to figure out our situation.