Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(8)

FOUR

SAGE

The guy steps closer, his fist clutching a dagger at his side. The glinting silver blade is all I can see. He was babbling about moons and pixies or something, and now he’s decided to kill me because I’m not buying his bullshit?

I scramble back, pressing myself against the dresser. “What’re you doing?”

“Since you won’t listen, I’ll show you the truth.”

A scream rises in my throat, but all I can do is choke in horror. I can tell by his hard gaze that if this strange guy wants me dead, I’m dead. I could fight, but I’ll lose.

He pauses a few feet from me. Instead of attacking, he puts the blade to his own forearm. Then he presses hard and slices deep. I stare in horror as blood bubbles up in a rush of deep red.

Panic jolts through me. But before I can move, the bedroom door opens and one of the pale blond guys comes in, propping up a limp and ashen Ben.

Faelan’s arm is dripping with blood now—it pitter-patters as it hits the floor. He points his red-tipped knife at Ben and looks at me. “Do you see what you’ve done to him?”

I swallow hard and stare at the guy I was dancing with. He looks half-dead. His dark brown hair has even turned gray.

I didn’t do that. I couldn’t have . . .

Faelan puts the tip of his blade to Ben’s shirt and uses it to lift up the hem. There are burn marks all over Ben’s abdomen where I was touching him. My throat goes tight. I can’t stop staring at the mangled skin.

“Ben’s a shade,” Faelan says. “Fairly hardy, for the most part. A being created by the goddess of death, the Morrígan, from a human whose life was cut short too soon. I believe he’s young, only seventy-five years old. His origin is the reason you didn’t kill him with your hunger. You pulled Ben’s life energy into your own body to feed your cells and keep your magic satiated. If Ben were still a human, he’d be a pile of ash right now.”

Faelan holds his dripping arm out like he’s presenting it in offering. Ben’s breath speeds up a little, his eyes opening more, his pupils dilating, as he sniffs the air. “However, Ben needs blood to survive and heal himself,” Faelan continues. “So you’ve harmed more than the shade with your carelessness.” He directs his next words to the limp young man. “You have my permission to feed.”

A low growl emerges from Ben’s throat.

I grip the edge of the dresser behind me, recalling the fangs I glimpsed in his mouth, knowing what I’m about to see, terrified to watch. But I can’t look away. Even with my crazy imagination, I never imagined anything like this.

With a guttural moan, Ben grabs Faelan’s bloody arm and chomps down on it. Faelan hisses in pain and leans closer to the guy who’s suddenly feeding from him. A vampire . . .

My whole body shakes as I watch. Ben’s strength becomes a force in the room. His body seems to grow a little with each gulp of Faelan’s blood. His skin regains its color. His hair turns silky and shiny again. His burn marks fade, and the twisted flesh perfects itself like I’m watching everything happen in reverse. Until the healing is complete.

“Enough,” Faelan grunts out, his voice weaker.

Ben immediately pulls back, dropping Faelan’s arm. He looks shocked, unsure of what happened, of what he just did. “Forgive me, hunter,” he says, shame filling his eyes. He uses his shirt to wipe the blood from his face. “I was weak.” When he glances at me, fear replaces the shame in his gaze. “I should’ve resisted her.”

Faelan cradles his wounded arm against his chest. His words are less formal, his Irish accent very clear, when he says, “Just be sure nothin’ gets through the barrier I set up. I’ll finish this and then we’ll leave you be.” I can tell he’s in pain, but his voice is steady. He gives Ben a nod and they share a look, like they have some sort of strange camaraderie.

I don’t understand any of this. I just watched a guy suck another guy’s blood and heal himself because I burned him?

I think of my connection with fire, how it whispers to me, how I saw flames behind my eyelids, felt heat when I touched Ben.

I burned him. How is that even possible?

A soft whimper comes from my chest, and my legs turn liquid.

I sink to the floor, my back scraping against the dresser. “What’s happening to me?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Faelan is silent for several seconds as he looks down on me, his blood dripping onto the floor beside my foot. His shirt is soaked with it, the black cotton shimmering in the dark room. “As I said, your origin is Emerging. You’re not human. You’re what some call a demi, or demigoddess. In this case, your mother was a goddess, and your father was a human.”

“But my mother—Lauren, she—”

“That woman wasn’t your real mother.” He releases a tense breath and moves to sit on the bed, leaning closer to me. He lowers his voice, like he’s trying to be gentle. “According to our knowledge, the woman—Lauren Spencer—had a child, yes. She gave birth, and the baby girl lived for three years. But then it died. For some reason, you were put in the child’s place, her life given to you. Perhaps your watcher at the time hoped it would ease the woman’s pain, hoped it would hide you and your magic. Whatever the reason, the human woman never knew she was raising a holy creature.”