Cold Breath

“Bed rest!” Caia fumed to herself. Jervan must have been out of his mind to confine her to her room. If only he knew the scrapes and bruises from her fight with Cashel were minor compared to other fights she had been in. He hadn’t seen her since she was a child, and now he had the nerve to try and protect her? And by chaining her to the bed? The door opened and Tate came in with her dinner and more of the salve for her bruises. Caia glared daggers at him as he set the tray in front of her.

“I’m not hungry,” she snapped.

“If you don’t eat, Jervan will keep you in here longer.” His tone was mild and reasonable and Caia really, really wanted to deck him for it.

“This is worse torture than being attacked by a Vampir,” Caia grumbled, picking up her sandwich and taking a vicious bite. “I’d rather go three more rounds with Cashel than be chained up like a prisoner.”

Tate opened the salve and began dabbing it onto her arms, then her neck and finally her face. Caia tensed. After she had come to in the wee hours of the morning, Jervan had at least had the decency to let her shower and change out of her ripped, bloody clothes. Then when she sat down on her bed the chains had wrapped around her wrists. Caia was already planning all the horrible things she was going to do him when she got loose. It was bad enough that he had trapped her in her room, but then he had assigned Tate to look after her and put the healing salve on her bruises. His quiet presence in the room was comforting, and that frustrated the hell out of her. And when he put the salve on her arms and face it made her stomach flip, which scared the hell out of her. She ate the rest of her meal while Tate sat in a chair by the window, reading a book.

Caia sank back against her pillows with a huff. Tate removed her tray, pausing to study her sullen face. He looked sympathetic. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Caia scowled. Tate’s lips twitched. “No, but Jervan needs a bodyguard.” He left with the empty tray. When the door was closed, Caia started humming softly. The song would speed up her healing, causing the bruises to fade more rapidly so Jervan would let her out of these stupid chains and then she could unleash her wrath. After she finished her song, she checked her arms and was pleased to see that the bruises were almost completely gone. She didn’t use the healing aspect of her powers very often, and the music was tricky. But at this rate Jervan should let her go by morning. She faked sleep when Tate returned. She felt him lift the blankets to check her bruises, and he dabbed some more of the salve on her cheeks and the hollow of her throat where Cashel had choked her. Caia tried not to flinch as those manic butterflies started up in her stomach again. She felt Tate push her hair off of her face and adjust her blanket. Then he touched her chains and Caia could swear the links lengthened slightly, giving her more freedom of movement.

She was so startled she almost opened her eyes but she forced herself to remain still and take deep, slow breaths. She was able to turn onto her side now to sleep, instead of being forced to lie on her back. She cracked one eye open to watch Tate leave the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. She could hear him talking in hushed tones with Jervan in the hallway but didn’t bother eavesdropping. Caia burrowed deeper beneath her covers and fell asleep.



She awoke late into the night, to the sound of a voice she had hoped never to hear again. Caia sat bolt upright in bed, her heart thundering.

“Caia.” The voice didn’t just whisper across the edge of her mind, it exploded inside her skull, making her wince. It was not the voice that had spoken to her in the cemetery. This voice was much more sinister, and powerful. Shadows stretched along her walls, forming staring eyes and gaping mouths as the voice kept calling her name. It echoed and grated on her eardrums, sounding like the very gates of Hell creeping open. She knew that Balaal could not cross the wards, but he could manipulate the darkness and send her his voice. Shadows swirled around her room, swarming her bed and slithering across her like snakes, causing Hex to hiss andrip at them with his claws. She felt suffocated.

“Jervan!” Her scream was full of anger and fear, and she amplified it, adding Compulsion. She knew the others could not hear Balaal’s voice, at least not yet. But she could, and it felt like someone was scraping her brains out of her skull. Jervan burst into the room, Tate and Dash close behind him. Jervan swore at the sight of the shadows. As he took a step forward, the bed jerked into the air. Caia swatted at the shadows, humming bursts of song that tore them apart. Then the bed dropped out of the air, hitting the ground with a bone-shaking thud and Caia was tossed to the floor, swearing as the chains wrenched her shoulders painfully. Jervan dove forward, undoing the chains. Caia shoved past him, crawling to her bag in the far corner. She had a special spell inside that could help muffle the sound of Balaal’s voice.

As she fumbled through her bag, his voice grew louder. A sinister laugh made the whole house shake, and now she knew the others could hear him too.

“What the hell is going on?” Tate shouted. The shadows were keeping the three men busy.

“Caia,” Balaal called again. “Come out and play.” Caia dropped her bag, clapping her hands over her ears. The house continued to shake, the windows rattling in their panes. Caia screamed. It was a Syrienne Wail, one so full of anguish and terror that it exploded every window in Jervan’s house, broken shards of glass raining down into the floor. The Wail tore at the shadows and fought against Balaal’s mocking, pushing him away. She doubted he was physically anywhere near the house; his voice was a projection like the mystery speaker at the cemetery. Finally the shaking stopped and the demon was no longer calling her name. Caia lowered her hands and raised her head, finding that her face was covered in tears she hadn’t been aware she was shedding.

She rose on shaky legs. Jervan stepped toward her, arms outstretched.

“Don’t touch me!” Caia snarled, the force of her voice physically pushing him back. “You son of a bitch! There are demons roaming the streets and you left me helpless. But that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?” She spit the words at him, and he took a step back, pain filling his eyes. Caia knew she would regret the words later, but by now she was used to regrets. She was too furious to care right then. Hex stood on the floor in front of her, ears pinned back and growling low in his throat. “Well congratulations, Jervan. You can go tell the Conclave your stupid hunch was right all along.” Caia fled the room, shoving roughly past Tate and Dash and heading for the backdoor. She let out a piercing, angry note and the door flew off its hinges. Caia went into the garden, kicking gravel as she walked. She just wanted to keep breaking things.

Instead she sat on a stone bench beside the pond and buried her face in her hands, swallowing back screams that would have ripped the rose bushes from the ground by their roots. She heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Go away, Jervan,” she said coldly.

“He’s not here.” She raised her head to see Tate, standing with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not here to drag you back into the house or anything,” he assured her.

“Not like you could,” Caia retorted. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see if you were all right. Although I guess that’s kind of a stupid question.”

“Yes, it is.”

“May I sit down?”

Rolling her eyes, Caia scooted over to make room on the bench. Tate sat, and she felt a gentle heat begin to roll off of him. Caia stared into the water, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. She kept expecting Tate to start peppering her with questions, but he stayed silent. The sun began to rise in the distance, tinging the sky blue and pink. Caia stood and walked back into the house. She went to her room and pulled on her boots and wound her hair into a braid. Tate stood in the doorway watching her curiously. He followed her as she strode down the hallway to the front door.

“Where are you going?” Jervan was standing in the living room and saw them pass by. Alan was using spells to repair the broken windows.

“Away from here,” Caia replied.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, given what just-” The acid glare she shot him shut him up. “What are you going to do, Jervan? Chain me up again?” She wrenched the front door open and walked purposefully past the wards. She would not be chained, and she would not be caged. She jumped when Tate appeared beside her. “Why do you keep following me?”

“You keep life interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, certain he was teasing her. They wandered through the nearly empty streets and Caia found her feet carrying her to the Conclave Athenaeum. All records open to the public were stored here, and underground were the Archive Rooms. Where the not so public records were kept. Most people didn’t even know about the Archive Rooms. They were full of secrets and magics that the Conclave didn’t want falling into the wrong hands.

“Good morning, Madame Archivist.”

Caia looked over her shoulder to see a tall, thin woman entering the building. She nodded curtly to the mage who had addressed her. Caia paled, her heart nearly stopping. Yalara. She spun Tate around so that he was blocking her view.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Shh!” Caia hissed. She tugged him behind one of the elegant marble pillars and peered cautiously around him, watching the woman disappear down a hallway. “I can’t believe it,” Caia whispered. She recognized the voice from the cemetery now. The Conclave had had the Conduit right under their noses the entire time.