EIGHTH BLOOD
Chapter 116: Hereditary
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The mists swirled in unison with her twisting fingers, alternating between folding in on themselves and separating to reveal flashes of the rising dawn. Exhaling slowly, Octavia concentrated on pushing the mists southwest, towards the river that fed into the sea.
Cyril stood beside her on the crest of the hill, watching silently as she redirected the flow of the clouds. The air was so bitingly cold that she could see his every breath.
"You're getting good at that," he praised when she lowered her hands to rest. "The 'cloud' mark can be a little finicky, but you seem to excel at those." He rubbed his lower jaw in contemplation. "I think we'll try a creation mark next. Come along, chrysó mou."
Her thoughts raced as she followed him down the grassy slope.
According to Cyril, mitama marks were sorted into four categories—control, creation, elemental and forbidden. The vast majority fell into the first category, but creation was the second largest group. Elemental came next, followed by a handful of marks that were illegal in almost every country due to the severe risks they posed. If a mage was caught using any of them – or if there was sufficient evidence to incriminate them – they would be tried and punished by the Council of Elders. At least, that was how it had worked in ancient times. Now, there was no such council, and wielders of spirit magic were rare or lacked the training to be able to carry out such elaborate spellcasting.
Cyril reached into his pack and pulled out a juicy-looking orange. He rolled it between his palms before balancing it in the basket of his long, scaled fingers.
"Watch closely," he instructed.
Unsheathing his wand, he carved a symbol she didn't recognise onto the skin of the orange. The mark glowed brightly before soaking into the fruit.
Her eyes widened when a second orange inexplicably appeared in his other hand. It was identical to the first one in every way.
"How'd you do that?" she asked, reaching out to poke the new orange with her index finger.
He grinned. "Exciting, isn't it? The 'duplicate' mark is one of my favourites."
Her enthusiasm waned slightly. "So it's just a copy?"
"Technically, yes." His claws made quick work of the peel before he swallowed the thing whole. "But it sure is a delicious one. It has zero nutritional value though, so don't be relying on it to ward off starvation."
He offered her the original orange, but she shook her head and pushed it away gently. "You have it. I'm not hungry." She expected him to make a joke about how he normally had to fight her for the last bite, but he merely heaved a sigh and tucked the fruit back into his robes. "What?" she asked in a much sharper tone than she'd intended.
"You haven't been yourself these past few days," he muttered. "Is something bothering you?"
"I'm fine," she lied. "The cold just puts me in a bad mood, is all."
"If you're worried about Sesshoumaru-sama—"
"I'm not," she snapped, turning away to glare down the field. "I don't give a damn about what he's doing or where he is right now. He can go fuck himself for all I care."
"It's not uncommon for him to just up and leave without telling anyone," Cyril continued. "We're used to him disappearing on us. Our lord is a wanderer by nature. He spends more time away from the stronghold than he does in it."
As annoying as that was, it wasn't the root cause of her anger. Beneath the longing, she was upset by how easy it had been to drive him away. Did she really mean so little to him?
She fiddled with the ring he'd given her. It was extremely hypocritical of her to still be wearing it after everything she'd said to him, but she couldn't bring herself to part with it. It was more than just a piece of jewellery. It was a memento of their time together, and proof that what they'd had was real.
"What were they like?" she whispered, blinking hard.
"Who?" her uncle asked.
"My parents."
He paused. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, I just . . . What sort of people were they? Were they born into the cult or did they come from outside it?"
"They were both very troubled individuals."
"Did they hate us?"
He wrinkled his forehead. "Of course not. They loved you."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "They had a funny way of showing it."
"Life is rarely as simple as it seems, chrysó mou." His expression softened as he spoke, as did his voice. "Make no mistake, the way they treated you and your brother was wrong, but their intention was never to hurt you. They only wanted what was best for you. Provided that it also directly benefited the Church in some way, of course.
"Growing up in a cult is like being an addict surrounded by other addicts. You don't realise how sick you are because you're all in the same boat. You enable each other. It's a vicious circle. Religion can be very alluring – especially to the vulnerable – and your parents were in deep . . .
"But then you and Gus were born. It had been over a century since the death of the previous vessel, and despite the controversy surrounding your birth, you two were nothing short of a miracle. You see, when a new incarnation of Erem's Vessel appears, they automatically become next in line for the position as head of the clan—or heads, in your case. But the thing is, they never live long enough to actually inherit said position. When your parents realised that the two of you would likely die before reaching puberty, they knew they had to act quickly."
"We could have died," Octavia protested. "They had no idea what they were doing. If they'd succeeded—"
"I'm not defending them," Cyril clarified. "But from their perspective, you would have died either way. Still, they should have known better. Especially your mother. Your father was born and raised as an esteemed member of the Church, but your mother was an outsider." He averted his gaze before continuing, "I never should have invited her to that sermon. I should have told her to get as far away from us as she possibly could, but instead I sealed her fate . . . I was such a fool back then."
Her anger melted away. "You introduced them." It wasn't a question.
He nodded anyway. "Yes. Before she joined the Church, your mother and I were friends. We were enrolled on the same course at university."
"What was the course?"
"Art Studies."
Octavia's throat burned. "She was an artist?"
"Yes. She was quite good, actually." He smiled. "You take after her in that regard, as well."
You're the spitting image of your mother.
Her eyes were beginning to sting again. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You never asked."
She looked down at her boots. "What about my father? What did he do?"
"He was a politician. Galen, too. Our father was delighted that they'd decided to follow in his footsteps. He said it was destiny—that it was in their blood."
"But not yours?" she fished.
"Fortunately not." He shot her another grin. "I worked in publishing. Novels, short stories, poetry anthologies; that sort of stuff. Thrilling, I tell you. Just thrilling."
She chuckled.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Nothing." Meeting his gaze, she flashed him a half-smile and added wryly, "I'm glad to hear that your degree in Art Studies went to good use."
He snorted. "Mine and the rest of the whole damned world."
"At least you got to finish yours. I still have two years left of mine. Or had, I guess." Her smile faded as she recalled the mundane life she'd left behind. She had no desire to go back to it, but in hindsight, it seemed like such a waste. "All those sketchbooks I filled, all those last-minute essays, all the debt . . . And I have nothing to show for it."
Cyril reached for her hands and gave them both a tight squeeze. "I disagree. You might not have a graduation cap, but you've mastered more mitama marks than anyone else your age. Do you have any idea how incredible that is? I'm no mathematician, but I'd say that's worth at least a thousand graduation caps."
Octavia rolled her eyes, but her cheeks heated in response to the praise.
Still smiling, Cyril let go of her hands and stared at a large rock sticking out of the grass a few metres away. "Now, then. Let's put your skills to the test and have a go at duplicating that boulder over there." His reptilian eyes flicked back to hers as he asked, "Do you remember what the mark looks like? Or do you need me to show you again?"
She shook her head. "I think I can manage."
His snout curled upwards into a proud smile. "Take your time. That rock isn't going anywhere. And neither am I."
Readying her hand, she closed her eyes and visualised the mark she needed. Without opening her eyes, she drew the necessary strokes with her finger, then waited for the warm tingling sensation that was present with every mark.
She smiled as the heat warmed her cold skin. Siphoning power from mitama marks felt different to using other external sources as fuel for her magic. There was a limit to what she could do with reiki and youki, and drawing directly from nature wasn't always practical. The marks, on the other hand, were limitless. They made their own magic. With them, she didn't have to worry about damaging the environment, or injuring the person she was channelling from. The only thing she had to worry about was staying in control.
"Hey, Uncle?"
"Yes?"
"I know you wish you hadn't invited my mother to that sermon or whatever it was, but I'm glad you did. Do you know why?" He didn't respond, but she could tell that he was listening intently. "Because if you hadn't, then she might never have met my father. She wouldn't have joined the Church, there would have been no wedding, and she wouldn't have gotten pregnant. I wouldn't exist if it weren't for you. So please stop blaming yourself for what happened and just accept that the past is called the past for a reason."
When she reopened her eyes, she saw that the mist had climbed back up the hill and was in the process of swallowing her from the waist down. The boulder was no longer visible, so she had no way of knowing if the mark had produced a copy or not. Moisture clung to her hair and clothes, courtesy of the mist's cool embrace.
She peered up at Cyril and stifled a gasp. His teeth and scales were wet with dew, but his eyes were wet with something that wasn't dew.
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Lord Susumu's children were alive.
Rin watched from the sidelines as Prince Yuudai filled them in on what had happened at the Eastern Stronghold. Technically, he was Lord Yuudai now, but he seemed reluctant to adopt the title and looked visibly uncomfortable whenever Master Jaken and Kannika addressed him as such. If it hadn't been for his hazel eyes and ivy-shaped markings, Rin wasn't sure she would have recognised him. His chestnut locks had all been lopped off, and he was wearing peasant clothes as opposed to his usual silks and plate armour.
So were his sisters. They were completely silent throughout the exchange, keeping their eyes low and letting their brother dictate the conversation for a change. Rin had forgotten their names, but she remembered how vibrant and full of life they'd all been during Tanabata. The difference between then and now was like day and night.
They hadn't travelled alone. Koga's clansmen, Ginta and Hakkaku, had picked up their trail and accompanied them on their journey to the Western Lands.
After the Eastern Stronghold had been sacked, Yuudai and his sisters had ventured west to a place called the Hill of the Ancients. There, they had plundered its ruins in search of the legendary sword, the Ame-no-Ohabari. Rin's knowledge of mythology was somewhat limited, but she recognised the name from the tale of Izanagi and Izanami.
According to the legend, sometime after creating the archipelago, the goddess Izanami had fallen pregnant. However, when it was time for her to give birth, there were . . . complications. In the end, Izanagi was left with no choice but to use the Ame-no-Ohabari to kill his wife's offspring, Kagutsuchi, after she'd been burned alive during childbirth. This act of violence resulted in the young fire deity's body being split into eight volcanoes, as well as the creation of both the Rain God and the Sea God.
Rin wondered what Yuudai and his siblings could possibly want with such a weapon, until she realised that Octavia's twin brother also possessed powers that were on par with those belonging to a deity. Having a sword with the ability to slay gods might work in their favour.
"What do you mean we ain't allowed in?" a gruff voice bellowed from outside the room. "I don't give a crap what your orders were! Get the hell out of my way!"
Inuyasha threw open the doors and stomped inside with Kagome in tow. Yuudai and his sisters' heads all whipped towards the pair, their eyes widening when they saw the hanyou's gold eyes and white hair.
Master Jaken and Kannika exchanged a nervous glance as Inuyasha stopped less than a metre away from the new Lord of the Eastern Lands and sniffed him. "You reek of blood and death," he sneered. "Who are you? Sesshoumaru might not be here right now, but that doesn't mean you get to waltz right in and do whatever the hell you want—"
The imp coughed loudly. "Erhem!"
Inuyasha glowered at him. "What?"
"This is Lord Yuudai of the Eastern Lands," explained Master Jaken. "And these are his esteemed sisters – Princess Ahmya, Princess Chiaki, Princess Kazane and Princess Doi. The former lord and lady gave their lives to ensure that their children survived the massacre at the Eastern Stronghold! Show some respect, half-breed!"
Inuyasha paled. "Shit." He turned to Yuudai and stuttered, "I'm sorry—"
"It's you."
He blinked. "Huh?"
Yuudai looked him up and down, but not in a way that could be considered insulting. He seemed fascinated. "You're Touga-sama's bastard," he mumbled finally. "I heard the rumours, but I never actually thought . . . Wow. It's an honour to meet you. Truly."
"He looks just like him," whispered the eldest of the princesses. They were the first words she'd spoken all morning.
One of her sisters decided to weigh in, as well. "Touga-sama was more handsome," she said with a shrug. "I like his ears, though. I bet they're really soft."
Inuyasha's brows rose. "You knew my father?" he asked them.
"We all did," replied Yuudai. "He was an extraordinary fighter, and an exceptionally kind man."
His sisters began reeling off questions one by one. They were a lot more talkative now that they'd found a suitable distraction.
"Why weren't you here during Tanabata? Do you live somewhere else? And who's that woman?"
"She smells human. Is she your wife?"
"I didn't know priestesses were allowed to get married. How did you two meet?"
"Have you been together for a long time?"
"Do you have kids?"
Inuyasha looked slightly dazed. "Uh . . ."
Yuudai flashed him a small smile. "Forgive my sisters. The past few weeks have been tough on them, and they've never met a hanyou before—never mind one sired by Touga-sama. They're bound to be a little dazzled by you. Don't worry, it'll wear off eventually."
"It's fine," Inuyasha said awkwardly. "I don't mind."
Ginta piped up then. "I've never seen you so docile before, Inuyasha. Wait a minute, are you blushing?"
"He is!" Hakkaku squealed. "That's adorable. Koga's gonna be peeved that he missed this."
Rin's pulse floundered at the mention of his name.
"Shut your traps!" Inuyasha yelled. His face had turned a lovely shade of tomato red. "Where is that mangy wolf, anyway?"
"He said he had some personal business to attend to," answered Ginta. "We're supposed to regroup with him outside the stronghold once we've finished here."
"That's a shame," sighed Kagome. "It would have been nice to catch up."
Rin narrowed her eyes. If they were convening after this, then he was probably somewhere close by. If she went looking for him, would he let himself be found? Or would he run away again? She waited until she was absolutely certain that no one was watching before making her escape.
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He wasn't at any of the gates leading out of the stronghold.
The guards had refused to let her through the checkpoints without Lord Sesshoumaru's permission, so she'd climbed one of the many staircases leading up onto the wall and walked around it twice, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive tribe leader.
It was much colder on the wall than it was on the ground. The wind made her nose run and her hands felt like ice cubes. She wished she had worn the gloves that Lord Sesshoumaru had given her for her birthday, especially when she tripped and cut her hand on the edge of a sharp rock. It was only a graze, but it was sore to the touch and stung badly whenever she creased her palm.
She was on her way back to the castle when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.
Her feet screeched to a halt. There was a large brown wolf resting under a maple tree a little ways off the beaten path, although large was one hell of an understatement. Rin had seen bears smaller than this particular wolf. It was positively enormous.
The urge to flee was strong, but the need to finish what she had started was stronger. After all, if anyone knew how to find Koga, it would be one of his brethren.
She approached the wolf slowly, not wishing to startle it. She couldn't tell if it was asleep or not. Its paws were folded beneath its chin and its eyes were closed, but that didn't necessarily mean it was sleeping. It could be biding its time, waiting for her to come within range of its claws.
Swallowing, Rin tiptoed closer. She flinched when the wolf suddenly opened its eyes and gazed up at her. She could hear the blood rushing behind her eardrums as it lifted its head and . . . And nothing. The wolf just stared at her. Its eyes were like sapphires.
"Hi," she said.
The wolf didn't respond.
Wolves can't speak, she reminded herself, feeling foolish. At least it hadn't bitten her.
Yet.
"I'm looking for your leader," she explained, reluctantly taking a seat beside the massive wolf. "Do you have any idea where he might be?" She averted her eyes. "I think he might be avoiding me. I know it sounds crazy, but what else was I supposed to think? One minute he's kissing me like his life depends on it, then he starts talking about how dangerous he is and disappears without a trace. It's like, mixed signals much?"
Heat crept into her cheeks as she concentrated her gaze on a patch of winter peonies. It was the first time she'd said the words out loud. She hoped the wolf wasn't judging her too harshly.
"Maybe I'm just not pretty enough."
"Your looks had nothing to do with it."
She froze. What in the world?
Rin turned and felt a piece of her soul leave her body once she realised what had happened.
"I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly," Koga said without looking at her. "I wasn't ready to face you so soon after . . . I just needed some space to think. And to sort my shit out."
Rin wanted to curl into a ball and die. Her face and neck felt like they were on fire. "Why didn't you tell me it was you!" she asked, outraged.
"I was going to, but I wanted to hear what you had to say."
"Well, I hope you're satisfied," she muttered under her breath.
He finally met her gaze. "You don't get it, Rin. What you just said proves it. Hell, you're beautiful. You'd have to be blind to think otherwise. I only left 'cause . . ."
Her embarrassment was quickly overpowered by curiosity. "Go on."
He sighed. "I took advantage of you. I knew you were inexperienced, but I didn't care. I let myself get carried away. If we'd been caught, your reputation would have been in shambles. None of the nobles would consent to marrying you if they suspected that you weren't a virgin—"
"And?" she snapped, cutting him off. "I don't care what they think."
"You should. You're Sesshoumaru's ward. He might not have broached the subject with you yet, but he'll want you to find a decent husband and live a comfortable life with them."
"He would never force me to do something I didn't want to do."
Koga crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah? What's the alternative? You spend the rest of your days cooped up in the stronghold like a glorified pet? Or you could always go running back to the old bat and be a miko's apprentice forever. That sounds so much better than marrying a handsome aristocrat and living a life of luxury."
Rin shook her head. "I won't do it. I'd rather go back to my old village and let them beat me senseless than be subservient to someone who thinks of me as a possession instead of a person."
"Now you're just being stupid."
"Why do you care so much? It's none of your business what I get up to in private."
"It is when it directly involves me."
"You didn't seem to have a problem with tarnishing Octavia's reputation. Or Kagome-sama's, for that matter."
He stiffened. "That was different."
"Was it?" She frowned when he didn't reply. "I'm the same age Kagome-sama was when you were professing your love for her at every given opportunity. Almost the same age as you, I hasten to add."
"I'm hundreds of years old, Rin."
"Oh, please. You don't act hundreds of years old."
"That's because I'm a demon. Our ageing process works differently to yours."
She rolled her eyes. "Another convenient excuse."
The graze on her hand burned. She braved a glance at it and resisted the urge to grit her teeth. It was starting to look infected.
"What happened?" Koga asked.
She glanced up and saw him staring at her hand. "I fell."
"Does it hurt?"
Her pride told her to lie, but the pain was becoming too great to ignore. "Yeah. A lot."
He shuffled closer. "Show me."
Her face warmed as he examined the injury. His hands were strong yet gentle as they worked, the callouses brushing against her knuckles and making her shiver.
"It's not too bad," he said. "The skin is pretty inflamed, but it'll be fine once it's been cleaned and bandaged."
Rin nodded automatically.
"Cyril will probably give you something for the pain if you ask him."
"Probably," she agreed.
Their eyes met and she swallowed, wishing for Lord Sesshoumaru's courage and Octavia's unwavering confidence.
Despite everything he'd said, Koga was still holding her hand.
"How'd you fall?" he asked. "I never took you for the clumsy type."
"I wasn't looking where I was going," she admitted.
"That's what happens when I'm not around to act as your escort." He held her gaze. "Why did you wanna see me?"
Her heart was in her throat. "I told you. You were avoiding me. I wanted to know why."
"I didn't think you'd care."
I don't, she thought cruelly. She tried to say the words out loud, but they wouldn't form.
Probably because it wasn't true. Though she loathed to admit it, she'd thought about him constantly since their encounter that night. The memory of his lips against hers had festered in her mind like an untreated wound. If she wasn't careful, the infection would spread until it entered her bloodstream, poisoning her from the inside out.
Maybe it already had.
He opened his mouth to speak. "Rin—"
"Shut up," she hissed, breathing heavily. "Shut up . . ."
One of his hands released hers and travelled up her arm. The thickness of her kimono prevented her from feeling the heat of his palm, but his grip was tight enough for her to know exactly where his hand was. It stopped a few centimetres above her elbow and squeezed. Hard.
He wants me, she realised with a start. He could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was written all over his face. The knowledge was liberating. Finally, someone was seeing her as she was. Not as a child, but as a woman driven by womanly thoughts and desires.
She closed her eyes and imagined for a split second that his hand belonged to someone else. Someone whose hand she'd held in the dark all those years ago when they were just two scared orphans trying to stay alive. Someone whose eyes were brown instead of blue. Her best friend in the whole world, and the one person she knew she could always rely on.
That taijiya of yours is an idiot.
Her eyes flew open and she grabbed a fistful of wolf's fur. Koga's eyes widened slightly, but he stayed where he was.
Emboldened by her anger, Rin leaned forwards and whispered against his mouth. "Kiss me again," she breathed. "Kiss me until I forget how much I hate you."
To her complete and utter shock, he grabbed her face and yanked her towards him, before crushing her lips with his. His fingers dove into her hair and massaged her scalp, whilst his mouth worked against hers furiously. The kiss was all teeth and tongues, and she loved every second of it.
She felt a rush of disappointment when he pulled away, but the feeling was short-lived because he quickly pressed his lips to her neck and planted more scorching kisses there.
There goes my reputation.
Her breathy laugh made him lift his head so that they were eye level with each other again. He raised an eyebrow at her, earning himself another poorly disguised chuckle.
Composing herself, Rin caught his face between her hands and pulled him in for another kiss. It was gentler than the first, but still just as pleasurable. Koga seemed to be of a similar opinion because he looped an arm around her waist and tugged her even closer. They were so immersed in the contours of each other's mouths that neither of them sensed the presence of a demonic aura, or heard the approaching footsteps.
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Author's Corner
Chrysó mou is a term of endearment meaning "my golden". It's basically the Greek equivalent of saying "my dear", but I like the double meaning haha.
Try to remember the story of Izanami's death by childbirth, specifically the part about the Ame-no-Ohabari. It'll be important later.
Thanks for reading! Don't forget to follow/favourite/review! :)