Hydromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 4)

Ilano lifted his hand at which the guard stopped.

“That’s what I thought,” Ilano said, his gaze turning a light shade of red when it fixed on the blood. He moved so close she could smell his mint-fresh breath. “You must be wondering how I deal with traitors, especially with lovers turned traitors.”

“Wherever this is going, I’m not playing your game.”

“This is far from a game. This is about owning the consequences of your actions.”

“The only consequences of concern are the innocent lives you’re destroying.”

“No one is innocent. We’re all guilty, born in sin. The only purity in life is loyalty, of which you have none.”

“You don’t know anything about loyalty.”

He clenched his jaw. “On the contrary, I’d say I’ve learned everything there is to know. The hard way. A long time ago, I loved a woman. I gave her everything. I even gave her eternal life.” The red consuming his pupils turned brighter. “You’d think she would’ve been grateful. But no, she betrayed me.” He sneered. “It must be frivolous female nature. You’re all descendants of Eve, after all.” His incisors extended, the sharp tips indenting his bottom lip. “Now justice must be served, just like I served it in the past.”

When he lowered his head, she flattened her body against the wall. Before his lips touched her neck, she brought her arms down as far as the chains allowed, aiming her palms at his ears. A quick, powerful hit could rupture the eardrums, hurting enough to drive him to his knees, but Ilano was quick. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them to the wall. She tried to kick him, but the guards grabbed her legs and held her in place.

She held her breath as he came closer once more. She prayed to all the gods of water and earth and fire and air that Ilano would drain her and not turn her.

Instead of sinking his teeth into her, he tongued a slow path over her bleeding skin all the way from her throat to her navel. The wound immediately closed up. A shiver of repulsion ran over her.

When he was done, he straightened and ran his tongue over his teeth. “I don’t like your taste. I’m sure it was sweet honey before Tim sucked from you.”

“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?” Maya asked. “Or fight me like a man, if you’re one. Just the two of us.” At least in a fight she had a chance.

“Oh, you are going to die,” Ilano said, “but not today.”

With that, he and his men left the basement and closed her into the darkness once more. Once alone, she sagged to the floor, her body limp with relief.

Maya didn’t know for how long she’d been in the basement, but when a sound at the door woke her from another restless sleep, she was shaking with hunger. A single guard entered, carrying a bowl and a bucket. He deposited the bucket and held the bowl to her mouth in silent instruction to drink.

The broth was cold and fatty, but she was so hungry she drank it all. Then he took the bucket and drenched her with ice-cold water. When he left, she shivered until her body had adjusted to the wetness. She moved as much as her restraints allowed to stretch her arms and legs.

Hour after hour went by. When the guard reappeared, he removed her shoes and ripped the suit from her body, leaving her naked. By then, she was too weak to kick him in the teeth. He drenched her again with icy water and left the bucket. She had no choice but to relieve herself in the bucket.

More time passed before another guard entered and collected the bucket. She tried to focus on Darren. Where the fuck was his voice when she needed it? Sliding down to the floor, she sat on the wet concrete with her back against the wall. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander, going back to the turbulent time in her past.

After what had happened to him, she’d sworn she’d fight crime for the rest of her life. It was as if the gods themselves had sent Cain to her. He’d found her in Cape Town. Darren was dead, and she was empty inside. She’d run away from the orphanage and survived on teaching vacationers to surf. She’d been surprised to discover there were others like her and like Lann who could manipulate air. Before that day, she’d thought she was a freak of nature.

She thought back to the day she’d taken her vow to never use her art unless it was for the good of mankind. Joss and Lann had been with Cain. They’d stood on the cliffs overlooking the sea near Cape Point when Cain had taken her oath. She’d worn the only dress she’d owned—a red, ankle-length shift of soft cotton. The sea had been stormy below, reflecting the constant turmoil she’d come to live with. The wind had been strong. It had blown clouds over the land and made her skin contract with goosebumps. Joss had been so troubled back then, before he’d found Clelia. As always, his mercury-colored eyes had been tortured. Lann never displayed much emotion, but Maya had known, like her, Joss and Lann had their own pasts that haunted them and their own pain to live with. They’d looked at her with compassion and support as she’d spoken the words that had integrated her into their team.