For the Power (For the Blood Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Other books by Debbie Cassidy

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018, Debbie Cassidy

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover by Vanessa Garkova

  Chapter One

  The road ahead had once been a motorway but was now overgrown and littered with stationary vehicles. Ash steered the van expertly between them, and up ahead Jace wove between the cars with ease on his motorbike. Logan snoozed on a mattress in the back of the van while my eyes scanned the road for possible trouble, but at this speed, in the daytime, we should be safe from the Feral.

  We’d been on the road for a couple of hours and were getting closer to the coordinates for the first bunker, but we’d have to go off road to get to it. Another half hour and then we’d have to go on foot. We’d made sure to leave early to ensure we reached the bunker in good time, to ensure that if something went wrong we had enough time to find shelter for the night.

  It was strange traveling during the day when Tobias and I had spent so long with the moon as our guide, running, always running. It was strange not to have a knot of tension the size of a grapefruit in my chest.

  Tobias’s face came to mind, his lopsided grin and sparkling green eyes. The way he always knew what to say to defuse a situation. The way he’d held me when we’d finally fallen asleep at dawn, managing to make me feel safe even though the world waited to swallow us alive.

  I’d failed him.

  I’d failed to get him away from the Feral. I’d allowed the Vladul to have him and now I was driving in the opposite direction from where he was.

  For the cure, Eva. You’re doing this for the cure. Dad’s voice in my head again, reminding me of my purpose. Of the mission, the goal, the be all and end all of it all, and yes, Tobias would understand.

  Ash’s hand cupped my knee and squeezed before settling back on the steering wheel. I glanced across at him, at his sturdy profile, the slope of his nose and the slight pout of his beautiful lips. He’d cut his hair before we left, shoring it down so it was a golden buzz cut. It accentuated his stone-cut features.

  Ogre … yeah, I could see the strength in the lines of his body, the bulk of his biceps, and the bulge of his thighs as he shifted gears and pressed down on the accelerator. But the word ogre brought to mind an ugly, monstrous creature, and Ash was anything but ugly. His features were brutal, yes, but there was a compelling symmetry to his makeup, and an undeniable charisma to his presence even though he never uttered a word.

  “Like the scenery, Eva?” Logan drawled from the back of the van.

  “Great, you’re awake.” My tone was pure sarcasm.

  Logan chuckled. “I’ve got to give it to you, you don’t faze easily—no pretty blush, no embarrassment at being caught ogling.”

  Wrong, so wrong. I was just good at hiding my embarrassment, but he didn’t need to know that. “Oh, dear, are you jealous I wasn’t ogling you?”

  Ash didn’t take his eyes off the road, but the corner of his mouth curled up slightly, telling me he was tuning into the conversation.

  Logan let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, honey, you couldn’t handle this.”

  “I wouldn’t want to.”

  The satcom radio on the dashboard crackled, and Noah’s voice filled the van. “How’s it going? Over.”

  I lifted the radio and pressed down on the button. “We’re almost ready to go off road. Over.”

  “Good. It should be quiet in the daytime. Call me when you reach the bunker. Over.”

  Logan’s breath was hot on my cheek. He reached for the radio, and I let him have it, but he hung between the seats, his body too close, his scent too strong. “How’s Gina? Is everything okay on your end? Over.”

  Like he cared. I focused on the road ahead.

  “She’s fine, Logan. We’re fine. Call in when you get to the bunker. Over and out.”

  The radio went dead. Logan threw it into my lap and then retreated into the back of the van again. Noah had sounded almost curt when speaking to Logan; there was definitely tension between them, and something that Jace had alluded to came to mind. Something that suggested that Logan had a reason to have issues with Noah. The Fangs had secrets that I’d probably never uncover and that shouldn’t bother me. They weren’t my problem, they were a temporary stop in my journey, they were a convenient helping hand to get to where I needed to be. This was an alliance that was necessary to save us all.

  Heck, who was I kidding, secrets bugged me. Not knowing bugged me. Not fully understanding their dynamic was like an annoying splinter, but instinct warned me that the direct approach of simply asking was out of the question in this case.

  I propped the radio back in its spot on the dash. It would keep us tethered to Noah on this long trip, because unlike regular radios, it used satellites in space to bounce signals. Tech stuff I didn’t completely understand, but Noah had explained the bunker still had access to the satellites in space, and he tapped into the correct frequency to make sure the satcom worked.

  Up ahead, Jace revved his engine, flying ahead of us. We’d barely spoken this morning. The awkwardness after he’d almost allowed Logan to drain me dry still hovered between us, and when he’d said he’d be riding his bike there was no denying the relief I’d felt. It didn’t matter; though; this relationship was a partnership, not a friendship. We were all here for the cure, and they’d protect me for as long as it took to get it. They’d protect me for as long as they needed my blood.

  Cynical much?

  I ignored the inner voice because this wasn’t Dad. This was the suppressed part of me that liked to make connections. The part that had decided Tobias couldn’t be left behind, and the part that had been overridden by pure instinct under the bridge when the monster had been about to devour us.

  They kept Gina around even though she’s infected. Maybe it’s not all about the blood. Maybe it could be about friendship. The cure is out there. You did what you were supposed to. No need to keep the walls up.

  It was right, but the thoughts sent fear shooting through me. To open up and make friends, to let people in, to care meant the possibility of loss and pain and grief.

  But if we cure the world …

  Yeah, if we cure the world.

 
Ash turned his head sharply to look at me, a question on his face. I shook my head and fixed my gaze on the road, on Jace’s weaving form, and pursed my lips. Of course he could sense my fear, the spike in my adrenaline. But he had gone back to eyes-on-the-road mode now, thank goodness.

  “What are you afraid of, Eva?” Logan asked casually from the back of the van.

  Damn Fangs and their extrasensory abilities. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Up ahead, Jace’s bike swerved sharply to the left, toppled to the side, and skidded along the ground. My hands slapped the dash, and a cry fell from my lips. Ash accelerated. But Jace was off his bike, waving his arms in the air and jumping up and down, lips moving in warning.

  “What? What was he saying?”

  And then my gaze fell on the thing glinting in the middle of the road—a chain of barbs.

  I grabbed at Ash’s bicep. “Watch out!”

  He slammed on the brakes, but the van was going too fast. We weren’t going to avoid it. We weren’t going to—

  Several loud pops and bangs assaulted my ears and then the van swerved sharply to the right, whiplashing my head to the side and jarring my teeth. The seatbelt snapped taut, slamming me back into the seat and holding me there.

  “The fuck?” Logan moaned from the back of the van.

  Shit, he didn’t have a belt. I unsnapped mine and made to climb into the back to help him, but Ash grabbed my arm, his eyes on the road ahead.

  “What?” I tracked his gaze and froze.

  Jace was no longer alone. He was surrounded by huge, powerful-looking guys carrying clubs, axes, and in a couple of cases, machetes. Shaved heads and square jaws greeted us, their amber eyes glowing bright in their faces.

  Logan’s breath tickled the side of my face. “Fuck this, we can take them.”

  He was right. There were eight of them and four of us. Easy pickings.

  I reached for the sword and sheath at my feet. “Let’s do this.”

  Ash unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door release just as several more figures poured onto the road around us.

  Logan cursed softly.

  “Or maybe not?”

  Chapter Two

  Tobias

  Incessant soft sobs filled the room, drifting from between the bars and rising like mournful, invisible smoke. There was something about the sound of a woman’s sobs that needled at my heart and stabbed at my gut—not as motivating as a child’s or baby’s cry but terrible nonetheless.

  The sense of impotency grated. No words helped, and physical comfort was restricted by the bars between us all. There was no choice but to tune it out. Fear, desperation, and hopelessness tainted the air in an aroma of devastation.

  At least the cells our captors had herded us into were clinically clean. My skin smelled fresh for the first time in ages, kissed by crisp cotton pants and a T-shirt, an outfit which contrasted sharply with the white floors, walls, and ceiling.

  We were black smudges against a clinical background. We were food that had been cleansed and wrapped in fresh packaging, ready for consumption. We’d even been fed a sloppy gruel that had been surprisingly filling and tasty. Probably loaded with all the necessary protein and nutrients to keep us fit and healthy.

  This was a holding bay—I’d heard the Fangs who’d herded us into the chamber talking about it when they’d propelled us into the cells, prodding us into action with black electrified batons. These were uninfected, strange-looking Fangs that shared common physical characteristics of pale skin and silver hair. Their faces were regal, bodies lithe and powerful, and they intended to keep us alive. It was obvious by the way they were treating us.

  See, Eva, I was listening and paying attention in class.

  Eva … Her face when they’d driven off with me. The devastation. She’d come for me, it had been in her eyes, in the set of her jaw. Part of me reveled in this knowledge and the other part despaired, because this place was a fortress, and not even Eva, with her skills and her wonderful mind, would be able to penetrate it.

  Was it a blessing to live, even if it meant being caged and tapped for blood, or would it have been better to have died in the Feral den? The thought circled my mind like a vulture.

  Emily would have chosen life. The desire to live had blazed in her eyes when the Feral had come for her, dragging her from the room kicking and screaming. She hadn’t come back.

  Life meant hope, no matter how tenuous. I gripped the bars and studied my surroundings one more time. It was what Eva would do. She’d file the details in that beautiful mind of hers, looking for a way out, a breach, something she could exploit later. But the room was bare except for the cells and the black-clad humans inside. There was only one exit—a steel door with a red bulb above it. They’d brought us in via that door and no doubt would take us out via it.

  “I don’t want to die,” the woman in the cell next to mine whimpered.

  Her long dark hair was still damp from the showers they’d shoved us into on arrival. The sting of hot water was a sensory memory still pricking my skin.

  “Please. I don’t want to die,” she repeated.

  “Shut the fuck up,” someone snarled. “You think any of us want to die?”

  No. No one here wanted to die, and I doubt our captors wanted us dead either. We were their source of food, their chance at survival. There weren’t many uninfected humans remaining in the world, and they’d take care of us because they needed us.

  Cameras dotted the crease between wall and ceiling. They were keeping an eye on us all right.

  The woman in the cell next to mine hurled herself at the bars, slamming her head off the metal again and again. Blood bloomed to life on her forehead and her screams tore through the air. Adrenaline flooded me with the need to do something, but she was too far out of reach and losing it. From the way she was attacking the bars with her skull, it looked like she wasn’t so eager to live after all.

  The door opened with a beep and two silver-haired Fangs strode in—a male and a female. They made a beeline for the woman’s cell, and the male raised a baton, ready to shove it between the bars. It would shock the woman into compliance.

  My fingers and toes had tingled for an hour after they’d used one of those on me. Time to back up out of the way, no touching the bars unless you want another shock. Eva’s voice was clear as a bell in my mind.

  I backed up, but before the baton could make contact with the woman, the female Fang raised a hand to halt the male. She stepped up to the bars and wrapped her hand around the spot the woman was using to bash her own brains in.

  The next blow glanced off the Fang’s fingers, and the distraught woman froze and stared at the Fang in confusion.

  The Fang smiled, showcasing lethal eyeteeth, another difference between the Feral and these Fangs. The Feral had elongated canines, which told me that this breed of Fang was different from the breed that had turned Feral. These Fangs were different in too many ways.

  “Self-harm will not be tolerated,” the Fang said evenly. “We do not wish to hurt you. You have something we need, and if you cooperate then no harm will come to you. Act out and there will be consequences.”

  The human woman’s face contorted. “Fuck you, Fang.” She hawked and spat in the Fang’s face.

  The globule of spittle landed on the Fang’s cheek and then slowly dripped down her face. The Fang blinked impassively at the human and then moved so fast my eyes struggled to track the movement. There was a glint of silver and then the cell-bound woman was gurgling and thrashing about. A crimson line decorated her neck and blood welled up out of her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she hit the ground. The white interior was suddenly silent and streaked with crimson.

  The male Fang closed his eyes and inhaled.

  “Get rid of it,” the female said. While the male busied himself entering the cell to extract the dead body, she turned to the rest of us. “Let that be an example to you. Resist and you will die. Cooperate and you will
live long, comfortable lives. Your bloodwork is being completed as we speak and then you’ll be taken to your forever homes. You may even be reunited with your loved ones. Happy humans make for tastier blood.” Her smile was matter-of-fact. “You’ll be taken care of, fed, and given the opportunity to exercise; there is even an entertainment room. You’ll be safe, and in exchange, you will feed us. Do you understand?”

  There were several choruses of yes.

  She inclined her head. “Good.” Her gaze fell on me, lingering briefly.

  I met her attention, unflinching. Show no fear, Eva would say. No fear.

  Her lips curled in a satisfied smile, and then she turned on her heel and clipped from the room.

  There was silence, deathly and complete, in her wake.

  No more sobs drifted up to fill the air.

  They came the next morning—three Fangs dressed in black from head to foot. They could have been one of us if not for their stature and the eerie silver hair. Cell doors were flung open and humans were herded out. No one protested. No one fought. And then they were gone. Everyone but me and two other guys. One was in a cell opposite and three down—blond and wiry but tall. His green eyes spoke of pain. The other was on the same side as me, four cells down, and now that the other cells were empty it was easy to get a good look at him. He was huge—Fang huge—with dark hair and a brooding demeanor. We exchanged confused glances.

  “You think they forgot about us?” the blond asked.