Roots Of Rage (Transfusion Saga #9) - Stephanie Hudson Page 0,51

from all accounts it looked as if she was dead. Then as if she had heard me and my prayers, she suddenly gasped for air, her swinging movements making more water spill over and splash up her legs. I released a heavy breath and felt like crying with relief.

“Now, do as I ask, or next time your little friend won't be coming back up.” I felt my lip curl in revulsion and bitter loathing, as I sneered back up at him, but his threat was one I knew wasn't empty. I looked back to Nero to find her eyes on me, her blue lips quivered and even with her body shivering, she was telling me not to do it. I ignored her, then silently closed my eyes before I told the bastard,

“I will do it.”

“Then by all means get on with it, after all, your friend doesn't have all day and neither do I.”

I had to wonder at this and whether it had been said because Lucius knew where I was? Had he somehow discovered who it was that had taken me and was now on his way here with the cavalry, as Nero had put it?

In the end, this hope became a moot point because time was not on my side and trying to stall him was not an option as it could only end up getting Nero killed. This meant that I had no other choice. I had to do what he said and if my plan worked like I hoped it would, I would touch the Eye and in doing so hold on to the comforting thought that in the end, it wouldn’t be the outcome he was expecting.

But first, it was time to step up to the Eye and take possession of the future it would show me once again.

The haunting image of my own sacrifice.

A price paid with…

My Stolen Heart.

Chapter Sixteen

Past Brutal Beauties

The moment I touched the Eye this time I knew it had taken me back to the past, not the future. I also knew the second I saw my mother that the reason for that was to show me what really happened to the Harpies’ sister.

I naturally questioned who the tall beautiful blonde was who walked with my mother, doing so almost as if she was escorting her through Hell. They had just entered a corridor that looked like a wide gallery you would find in a castle or English manor house. It made me wonder about the castle we were in now and if it had anything to do with it?

I watched like a ghost seeping out of the wall as I followed them. It was a very similar experience to when the Keepers of Three had taken me down a journey of Lucius’ past. I had felt like some silent witness following hopelessly through his own flickering of time.

But as for now, well I had to say that the sight of my mother made me smile, for she didn't look much different than she does now. I found myself wondering at her mind by being in this place. Yes, she was mortal like I am but as I was beginning to understand, being down here made me something different.

It made me something more.

But what had my mother been like back then? I knew for a fact that she certainly wasn't as capable at fighting and hadn’t been trained on how to protect herself by my father as I was. She also didn’t have the same knowledge of Hell and its demons that I did. She hadn’t grown up in my Father’s world and therefore wasn’t used to the brutality it had to offer.

Although didn't this fact only end up making her more fearless, more courageous? Coming down to Hell with nothing but your wits about you and the strength of your bravery to drive you, well, you didn't get more gallant than that.

But it also made me realise just how little I really knew about my parents and their own history. Puzzle pieces of a picture I would never see was all that had been offered to me growing up. Small snippets of stories told by my aunties and uncles or muffled nostalgic tales heard by small ears of a child with her cheek pressed to the door. Of course, I’d always known that their story was one on a more epic scale than what they first proclaimed it to be, even to me, their daughter. But I knew they did

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