Defiance by R S Broadhead

Author:R S Broadhead [Broadhead, R S]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: R.S. Broadhead Books
Published: 2019-03-06T22:00:00+00:00

Twelve

"Get out of my way!” I said as I grabbed a pair of scissors from a cup sitting on a table. I had already stabbed them deep into my tattoo before reaching Ryker. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Grim’s blood sizzled like it was being scolded on a stovetop. I ran a finger through it, gathering it on the tip. “Hold his arm down.”

“What’re you doin’?” Shiloh asked, softly. Her voice lacked confidence in my actions. There was nothing but sickening pity in an attempt to comfort me. I didn’t need it. I would save Ryker. There was no other option. Him dying was a concept I refused to believe.

I ignored her. “Please just trust me. He’s going to die if you don’t help me.”

They all looked at each other, but did as they were instructed without another word.

I ran the blood along his forearm, making every twist and turn as quickly as I could, until the Reaper symbol was complete. Suddenly, the convulsing stopped. Ryker laid perfectly still, his eyes shut. I held my breath, hoping what I had done worked, and I wasn’t too late. Before anyone could say another word, his back arched, and his eyes went wide, purple light blazing out.

“What’s happenin’?” Justice asked, backing against the door.

Shiloh and her sisters huddled together in a corner.

“He needed the blood from my tattoo. It’s powerful.” The words trailed aimlessly off my tongue.

A few moments later, Ryker dropped back down. Everyone in the room was scared to move or even breathe, like our next actions would cause a turn for the worse. I took a few steps toward the bed, terrified of what I was going to find.

Ryker blinked a few times, coughing. His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on my face for a good solid minute before speaking. “Cade? Where am I?” His voice was higher than normal, almost like he didn’t know if he could speak until the words were out. He managed to sit up, finally breaking the stare, as I came over to his side. Relief flooded my insides. I wanted to squeeze him and never let go.

“I’m here, buddy.” I tapped the top of his bloodstained pillow, my eyes lingering on my fumbling fingers picking at the hem. “You were sick, so we’re at a friend’s house to get you taken care of.” It was hard to look at him. Blood was everywhere. Grabbing a towel from the floor, I wiped his face. His pale, milky skin remained stained a rosy pink.

“All that came from me?” he asked, staring at the discolored cloth with a slacked jaw. I nodded, my lips pulling at the corners. He slouched back into the pillow, rubbing his bloodshot eyes and squinted up at the ceiling. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Quick to respond, I handed him a glass of water, which he greedily drank and then placed the chilled glass to his temple.

“You gave me a scare,” I choked out, trying to control the emotions in my voice.

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