Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(69)

“I love you, Uncle.”





Wyn moved like she was possessed, her joints jerking in weird directions as her body relentlessly pushed her forward. I walked behind her at a safe distance, enjoying her struggle, enjoying seeing her reduced to such a pathetic mass.

I smiled wickedly, throwing my hair to the side as Wynifred stumbled over her own feet, her body lunging into the white stone building we were walking next to.

The crack of skull against stone resonated through the empty city, her head impacting into the wall before she slid down to the ground in a pathetic heap, a bright red streak following her.

“Oh, dear,” I sighed, my voice dripping with false sympathy. “Are you okay? That looks like it hurts.”

Her eyes swung toward me with all the wide-eyed horror I would expect from someone in this situation. The horrified glance was made all the more real by the fact that she had no other choice than to give in to me.

Her mouth opened wide, and for a brief moment, I thought she was going to scream again, but she simply stared, odd gurgling noises seeping from her throat.

“Pathetic.” Chuckling acidly at the withered girl below me, I took another step forward, pressing the point of my high-heeled boot into her side with an aggressive swing, causing her eyes to grow wider. “I’m sorry. What was that? You say you are okay…” I dug deeper with my toe, watching her writhe as it pressed against the ridges of her rib cage.

Broken sobs leaked out with a pathetic growl from somewhere deep inside her chest.

“Don’t you think we should get moving?”

Her mouth snapped shut in one quick movement, her teeth clicking together in a loud crack.

I smiled at the way my father was taking control, at the tears leaking from the sides of her eyes.

“Get up,” I growled, the strength in my voice pounding against the stone and bouncing back to us with the strength of a hammer.

Wyn flinched at the sound, at the wave of my violent magic that rode on the back of my words, hitting her in the face with a heady warning that I could instantly tell she was going to ignore.

She didn’t move. She shivered a bit, her body moving as if it was cold. I knew better, though, especially in this heat.

She was still fighting him, and at this point, I was losing my patience. I could feel it grind against my spine, my soul pleading with me to make her hurt.

And I could make it happen.

“Get up,” I snapped, my voice even louder as my magic rushed from me, spinning around her and picking her up with an energy that lifted her off the ground.

The soft scream of fear seeped from her mouth as I slammed her against the wall repeatedly. The rag doll her body had become rattled against the hard stone with each abrasive impact.

Laughing, I watched her bounce, reveling in the soft sound of her cries, before dropping her again, her body collapsing in a twisted heap.

“Get up,” I growled.

This time, she didn’t wait, her pathetic sobs echoing disgustingly as she lifted herself.

Snarling, I turned away from her, my eyes darting down the street to the tall spires of the cathedral, long shadows clawing over us as the sun fully set.

“Come, Wynifred,” I called behind me as the sound of her dragging steps moved closer. “We have a wedding to get back to.”

I wish it was that simple: a job well done, a bonding, and the feast that would follow. However, once the sun went down, this place would become a labyrinth, and I wasn’t foolish enough to “turn on a light” so to speak. A bright, yellow light in a black world would be nothing more than a death sentence. We needed to get back before that happened. I didn’t want to deprive my father of his prize, after all.

Another feral growl and I turned back to the pathetic creature who leaned against the wall beside me. I could tell she was going to be more of a hindrance than I had thought. My patience was already gone.

With one swift movement, I pulled her hand out from where she had cradled it against her chest. The wrist was slick with the red blood that oozed out of the newly opened wound in her palm, the color even brighter in the light of the quickly fading day.

She gasped, the scream strangled as she attempted to pull away. However, I held on, malice spreading through my wide grin as I watched her fear grow into something beautiful.

My fingers pressed roughly against the blade protruding from her palm as her cries continued, my fingers twisting it farther into her hand, ripping the already ragged flesh apart.

Now she screamed as I clasped my hand, sticky with her blood, over her mouth, leaving just the sound of my deep laugh in the alley.

The blade had passed through the same place barely months before, but then, she had gone into a dream controlled by Cail. Then, it had been a walk in the park. Now, she was on her own, trapped in the mind of my father, trapped in his control.

“We should get moving,” I tried to keep the light comfort in my voice, the heavy, candy-coated persuasion thick. It didn’t matter; she knew what I was threatening.

With a strangled sob, she pushed herself up, body convulsing under the effort. Her good hand gripped against the wall, against the ground, and then reached for me as she tried to find a balance between the uncontrollable movements of her joints.

“Don’t touch me,” I snarled as I stepped away, letting her stumble into an upright position, as though she’d had one too many to drink. “Let’s go.”