Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana 1)

She sighed, then reached into the First Aid kit and withdrew a pair of shears. Carefully, she cut away his tattered and blood-soaked shirt. She bit her lip as she spread it open to reveal his wounds, wincing when it stuck to dried blood.

His sculpted chest was coated in streaks of sweat and crimson, cuts and gashes marring the otherwise flawless skin. As she ran the towel over his chest, she felt each swell of muscle beneath the wet cloth. She wiped blood from the slowly weeping wounds, some of which appeared to be knitting together in front of her eyes.

With the speed that he was recovering, she’d probably just have to put a few of the large butterfly bandages on the more serious gashes. The plastic backs peeled off easily and she put three over the largest wound under his right pectoral muscle, stroking the undamaged skin for a little too long.

Cadan’s hand closed over her wrist in an iron grip. Diana jumped, barely suppressing a scream. He glared at her, shadows haunting his eyes.

“What’re you doing?” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m trying—” She winced as his grip tightened. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Doona need your help.” Cadan’s voice was harsh and dark with pain. His gaze dropped to her wrist. Scowling, he removed his hand and sat up. “Leave me alone, I doona want your help.”

“Fine.” She rose to leave.

“There’s a bedroom across the hall.” He gestured to the door as he limped around his bed and headed toward the windows. “You can sleep there, but leave the door open. There’s a spell on this house that makes it invisible to most who pass by, but better safe than sorry.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Vivienne Lawrence accepted the last test from a grinning student. All the others had left within the last fifteen minutes, but this smiling girl who’d sat in the front row was the last to turn hers in.

“Good?” Vivienne asked.

“Great.” The girl’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She turned and headed back to her desk to grab her bag. On her way out of t

he classroom she asked, “When will Dr. Laughton be back?”

Vivienne tried to play it cool. “Next week, I think. She’s a little under the weather.”

“Cool. ’Night.”

Vivienne stacked the tests and idly watched the girl walk out of the classroom that Diana’s department used for Intro to Medieval History. She’d only covered Diana’s classes for a few days, so she didn’t really know the student, but she knew her type. Sat front row, smart, dedicated, and always turned the test in last because she always had something extra to say on the essay portions.

Vivienne had been that girl. Diana as well, probably. Most archaeology and history professors had been that girl. Vivienne had always been clever, but in truth, it had been her work ethic and sense of urgency that put her ahead of her colleagues.

She tucked the tests in her bag, then reached for her laptop to close it. She’d been analyzing remote sensing data from her last field project in Egypt and she was just flying through it. Normally she struggled with learning a new program for analyzing data, but this one had been a breeze. Her colleagues had been complaining about the interface all summer as they’d gathered the data, but for some reason Vivienne was having no problems.

It was the weirdest thing, but she was reading exponentially faster, too. And grading tests faster. She was just getting smarter in general. She’d considered talking to Diana about it, especially with all the crazy stuff that had been happening to her friend. But she was just too scared. What if she had a tumor? Sure, she was leaping to the worst possible conclusions, but she couldn’t help it. And ignoring it meant that it wasn’t real. Right?

A disgusted sigh escaped her as she tucked the laptop into her bag. She swung the bag onto her shoulder and headed for the door, wondering about Diana. A text from Diana had arrived a couple of days ago. It hadn’t been long, just a note that she was safe.

Hopefully she’d figure out what was going on and be back soon. Her department would figure out that Diana wasn’t teaching her classes and then they’d really have to do some fast talking.

It was crazy, though, what had happened to Diana. Vivienne believed her, of course. Not just because she was her friend and one of the most rational people she’d ever met. She’d been raised by her father to believe that all wasn’t as it seemed. He’d been an Egyptologist too, and one year while on a project in Egypt, he’d met Vivienne’s mother. Vivienne had showed up ten months later, though her mother had died in childbirth. Her father had tried to make her mother seem real to her by sharing the fairy tales and myths of her culture. Ever since she was a little girl, Vivienne had felt a strong affinity for them.

But she almost wished now that she hadn’t believed Diana. Hallucinations were definitely better than what had happened to her. God, she hoped she got out of this safely.

Vivienne flicked the light switch as she stepped out into the dim hallway of the history building. The test had run a bit over, so it was after seven. Across the hall, waiting right near the building’s main exit, a tall figure leaned against the wall. A long leather coat hung off incredibly slim shoulders and a wide-brimmed hat shielded a face that was tilted toward the ground.

Before she could take another step, the head rose. Eerie features, sharp and almost birdlike, glanced up at her and back down. Vivienne’s heart thrummed like a butterfly’s wings.

There was something wrong with the figure. She spun on her heel to hightail it toward the other exit. She had taken only a couple of steps down the linoleum-covered corridor when the chill-inducing sound of leaden footsteps sounded at her back. She picked up her pace, but hard arms gripped her from behind. The scream was crushed from her lungs.

“Not getting away this time, Diana,” the rough voice said in her ear.

Suddenly, all she could see was blackness and it felt like she was being thrown from a rollercoaster. She had no breath to gasp. Hard ground appeared beneath her feet and she opened her eyes, her stomach pitching when she saw three figures standing in front of her, all spindly and harsh-featured like the one who held her. Cold rain sprinkled her face.

She was in a city, and it wasn’t one she recognized. The buildings were all made of old gray stone or muted red brick, far older and larger than anything in Clayton. There were no people except for the monsters who held her.