For The Sake of Revenge: An Alaskan Vampire Novel by Atha DL

Author:Atha, DL [Atha, DL]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Vampires
Publisher: Empress
Published: 2013-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

Adrik paused here, and I sat quietly beside him. The log underneath us was cold, and although I was still only dreaming, I couldn’t help but shiver at both the wintery landscape and at the brutality he had experienced.

Light snowflakes had begun to drift down from heavy gray clouds that stood out in the dark sky. I pulled my knees to my chin, balancing carefully on the rough bark beneath me, but grateful for the warmth of my own skin. Oblivious to the weather he was creating around us, Adrik stared silently ahead.

If I could have thought of any words of comfort, I would have said them, but I had nothing but questions.

“Why didn’t the duke whip you until you were dead? Why stop?”

“There were two reasons, I think, looking back on it,” Adrik resumed. “The foremost being that he wanted my confession so that there could be no reproach of Irena. Being with child, she could not marry into the royal family, but with my confession, she, at least, would not be a harlot. Her family would have borne great shame if she had simply been a woman of loose standards.

“Secondly, Russian executions were unusually brutal. If the convicted became unable to bear the sentence, he would be cared for meticulously, and all efforts made to save him so that the sentence could be finished. So the duke hoped to save me so that he could whip me again. That was the way of things.”

I nodded at his answers, and he continued with his story.

“The shivering of my bones is what woke me a few hours later; my teeth were clattering together from fever, and I awoke to find myself slung across a thin, miserable cot in a cell within the blockhouse used to house the occasional prisoner.

“My back had been dressed with plaster-coated rags in an attempt to staunch the bleeding and control infection, but it was clear the surgeon’s efforts were failing. My skin was hot and damp to the touch, and blood soaked through the plaster such that it leaked onto the dirt floor. The sheets were sullied from a combination of blood and sweat.

“Fifty lashes and above was nearly always fatal. I had suffered forty I was told, and although I might have survived back in Russia, my chances were not good here in Alaska. The fort was lacking in bandages, nursemaids or even a clean, dry room in which to house me. I was grateful, for I so badly wanted to die.

“Against odds, however, I managed to survive the night, and I awoke the next morning while the surgeon changed the plastered rags on my back. The strips had dried into my wounds, pulling out dead tissue when the strips were yanked from my lacerations. The treatment was harrowing, and luckily I was in and out of consciousness while the surgeon worked on me. He slipped me whiskey to drink, to help cut the pain, but my bowels were so constricted, I could not keep it down.

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