On Death's Honor

Chapter 4: Snippy Spirits

I don't know how long I was lying in my own blood. All I knew was that everything hurt, and I was severely wishing I'd just let the grayvers eat me alive instead of pulling the stunt that I did.

I couldn't move. I could feel the muscles in my arms, lower back and legs spasm, desperately trying to keep the blood moving through my body because my heart was sure as hell having a difficult time doing it. Cold, icy fingers continued to draw chilling lines alongside my veins. Voices of spirits long forgotten whispered words in languages I couldn't fathom understanding, caressing my ears like one would calm an animal before the kill.

I wanted to breathe, but fuck, it was like swallowing fire and ice combined.

Then, slowly, my mind began to clear enough for me to remember how to move.

The first thing my lungs tried to do was make me gasp for air, and I was helpless to the strangled, cruel screams that tore themselves free from my throat. I broke out in coughs, my face hot from the lack of air.

I wanted to die.

At some point, I'd managed to turn over on my stomach, sweat dripping down my nose and temples as I balanced myself on my knees and forearms. The pressure in my head increased tenfold. The once quiet voices from earlier were rising, shouting, yelling, screaming until they were nothing but a piercing ringing inside my ears.

"Fu . . . Fu . . . Fucking . . . Hell . . ." I managed through gritted teeth, squeezing my eyes shut.

I can't stay like this. I need to move.

It took me a moment to realize that I was all but pulling out my own hair, pressing my forehead against the cool stone as I ran my throat raw from screams that matched the voices banging against my head.

For heaven's sake, Wren, move!

Trying to ignore the weak, muffled sounds emerging from my mouth, I clenched my jaw and focused on taking in deep, ragged breaths. It took a few attempts, but eventually I managed to climb to my feet, awkwardly balancing myself against a wall of stone.

I almost panicked because I still couldn't see a thing - and then I realized that the spell I put over myself must have dragged me deeper into the mines than I'd have preferred.

"Need any help?" an unimpressed voice sneered from behind.

The voices were finally fading away, to be replaced by a wild, manic headache.

"I'm fine," I snapped, pressing a hand to my head.

"Really? Your arm's a mess."

Bogdan was right. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that I couldn't see at the moment. There was no mistaking the hot, fresh blood dripping down my fingers.

"Who sent grayvers after me?"

"You don't know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?"

Nonetheless, I could feel a creeping chill snake its way down my back at Bogdan's silence. I sighed, leaning further against the wall.

"You think she's behind this?" I asked after a long, tensed silence.

"Who else would send them?"

The laugh that escaped my lips was bleaker than my poor dead heart.

"Everyone knows I like lurking around these woods."

"But are they willing to sign their souls to damnation for revenge? For you?"

My arm was becoming nothing but a throbbing, stinging pain by this point. Cradling it, I maneuvered my way forward, feeling Bogdan's nerve-wracking presence behind me.