Changing Nature (The Immortal Descendants Book 3) by April White

Author:April White [White, April]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Corazon Entertainment
Published: 2015-01-19T14:00:00+00:00

Tom – July, 1429

I drank his blood.

Why do such a self-destructive thing? I asked myself a hundred times before I did it. Because I didn’t want to die was the answer every time.

And I was dying.

I barely had enough energy to raise my head without help anymore, and sitting up was nearly impossible. I needed fluid and protein to make blood, so Léon brought me fresh milk when he could. When he came today, he said he met a girl who made a drawing of him. Something broke in me. I couldn’t look at him after that, not even when he tried to show me the portrait. If I looked at him I’d tell him everything, and none of those words would ever change what I was, or that I was dying.

My blood filled flasks and tubes along the counters and shelves of Wilder’s laboratory. He was drinking it steadily now, and I could feel the Monger in him being refueled with aggression and the urge to destroy.

He wasted my blood, too, and sent flasks flying across the room when he didn’t get the Seer’s visions he expected. I didn’t tell him his rage was proof it was working.

He was gaining my Monger rage. It seemed unleashed in him, as if all the control I’d kept wrapped around it had broken with the pain, and it was angry and vengeful. I had somehow become the focus of my own rage.

The power he wanted was from my Seer blood – my mother’s blood. But since Wilder had begun consuming it, he hadn’t had a single vision of the future. Not one. I knew this because he had screamed those words at me in a fit of rage, right before he threw his wine glass at my head.

I was unconscious for two hours.

No visions from drinking a Seer’s blood. What did it mean? Who the hell cared? Before Wilder grabbed me in that cellar under the Tower of London, I had visions all the time. They had become fugue-Sight, one after the other, always flashes, and full of Mongers. I hadn’t had a vision since that night, and I didn’t miss them. Sure, it would have been great to See someone coming to rescue me. But that wasn’t in my future. I had no future.

But last night Wilder did something stupid.

The vein in my arm was near collapse when he finally drew the goose quill out. The flask was barely half full, and he was furious. He smashed it to the ground, shouting insults at me as if they had any power, as if anything mattered anymore except whether there would be another breath.

The flask shattered, and a piece of flying glass cut the inside of his forearm. I noticed the blood welling there before he did, and I tracked its progress as it rolled down his arm and dripped into a flask of milk Léon had brought from his island. One drop. Two. Three. Barely enough to stain the liquid pink. The fourth drop hit the table, and that’s the one he saw.

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