Page 74 of Blood Bound
“My dear Darick, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t taken your witch.”
“Bullshit,” I snarl. “You’ve been plotting something for months. This has your stench all over it.”
Lucien takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, Darick, there’s so much you don’t understand about our history with the witches. Ancient conflicts, prophecies…it’s all so fascinatingly complex.”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
He smiles enigmatically. “Let’s just say that your little blood match might be more significant than you realize. But I assure you, I’m not the one holding her. She’s nowhere near here.”
I stand in the center of the vast room, shutting my eyes for a moment and stretching out my senses. As much as I hate to believe him, he’s telling the truth; she’s not here.
Doesn’t mean he didn’t take her, though.
I glare at Lucien, feeling my nostrils flaring. “You expect me to believe that? After everything you’ve done?”
Lucien’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Believe what you will, Darick. But I assure you, I have better things to do than kidnap your little witch.”
“Like what? Plotting to overthrow the Assembly?” I take a step closer.
He chuckles, swirling the blood in his glass. “Always so dramatic. Perhaps you should look closer to home for your answers.”
I’m about to retort when a sudden burning sensation erupts in my pocket. The pendant.
It’s Rowan. I feel her!
My focus shifts instantly, Lucien fading into the background as I concentrate on the connection. Images flash through my mind – the rhythmic clacking of wheels on tracks, the acrid smell of diesel fuel, a fleeting glimpse of a station sign.
A train. She’s on a fucking train.
No…not on a train. Near one.
A station.
There’s something else, too. A scent that’s familiar yet out of place. It reminds me of…incense? No, something earthier. Like the herbs in a witch’s garden.
The connection fades as quickly as it came, leaving me disoriented. I blink, realizing Lucien is staring at me with newfound interest.
“Are you quite alright, Darick? You look…distracted.”
I shake my head, clearing the last vestiges of the vision. “I’m fine,” I growl, already turning toward the door. “This isn’t over, Lucien.”
As I stride out, I hear him call after me, “Oh, I’m counting on that, old friend.”
I ignore him, my mind racing with the new information. A train. An unexpected scent. And the nagging feeling that I’m missing something crucial.
Pausing in the vast, circular courtyard of Lucien’s estate, I take stock of what I know.
She’s near a station close to a witch’s home, somewhere suburban because I don’t know of any witches who live in the city. It means heading into witch territory, which is off-limits, considering the shit we’ve been going through lately. If Arabella and the elders find out, she’ll tear a strip off me. But it occurs to me that I don’t give a fuck. The political posturing and endless games of the Blood Assembly have become tiresome recently.
Not just recently, if I’m honest with myself.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, jolting me from my thoughts. I fish it out, seeing Marcus’s name on the screen.
“What have you got?” I answer, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Nothing yet,” Marcus replies, his voice tense. “I’m still waiting on some leads to pan out. What about you? Any luck with Lucien?”
I growl in frustration. “He claims he doesn’t have her, and I believe him – to a degree; she’s not with him. But I got something else – a vision of sorts. Rowan’s near a train station, somewhere close to witch territory.”