Author's Corner

Special thanks to victoriarogue and GreyMoon . Huntress for the reviews on the last chapter. Reading them gave me the motivation to finish editing this chapter, so thank you both for your kind words and continued support.

Sorry for the delay between updates. I hadn't realised how long it had been since the last chapter was posted. I'll make it up to you by posting the next one either next week or the week after. I hope you enjoy all this one. It has two of our favourite things: smut and answers. Yay!

Trigger warning: sexual content.

EIGHTH BLOOD

Chapter 101: Revelations

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Sesshoumaru panted against her shoulder as he spent himself inside her.

Once it was done, he rolled onto his back and waited for his erratic breathing to fall into an even pattern. He fought to contain his surprise when Octavia climbed on top of him and straddled his waist with her thighs. Most demonesses would have had enough by now, but she seemed eager to go for another round. He chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I didn't expect you to be so . . ."

"Amazing? Phenomenal? Out of this world—"

"Insatiable. Are you not exhausted? I've lost count."

"We can stop if you're tired—"

He shot upright and sealed their mouths together. "Do not presume to know my limits," he said. "Your stamina will expire long before mine does."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Is that a challenge?"

He brushed his lips against hers and murmured, "It was meant to be a warning, but feel free to interpret it however you like."

She laughed and braced her hands on his shoulders, before sinking down onto his length, making them both groan in unison. He pressed his tongue between her lips and palmed her waist to maintain a steady pace. Pleasure danced through his veins as she rode him as if he were her stallion. The sound of their hips slapping together made him wrench his mouth away from hers and clench his teeth to muffle a grunt. All the while, she whispered words of encouragement in his ear, reiterating how good it felt.

She moaned when his fingers found the bundle of nerves between her legs and worked her to completion. Seeing her climax felt like sacrilege; however, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she threw her head back and cried out in utter rapture. A string of curses poured out of her mouth as he continued to pound into her, chasing after his own need. He buried his face in her neck and grunted when her innermost walls clamped around him like a vice, unravelling him from within.

He held her in his lap whilst they drifted down from their shared high, hands buried in her hair and panting against her cheekbone. And yet, he was far from satisfied. Was this how it was to be from now on? He had never reacted this way towards another's touch before—had never craved it so much that it felt like he was being burned alive. It was maddening. She was maddening. But so incredibly worth it.

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"What were you and my mother talking about before you came here?"

Octavia glanced up from where she was drawing shapes on his chest with her index finger and met his probing gaze. "Why do you ask?"

"You shouldn't have been alone with her. It was an unnecessary risk."

A smile pulled at her lips when she saw his eyes dart lower, towards the claw-shaped scars on her throat. "Nothing happened," she assured him. "She told me some interesting things about your father. He sounded like quite the heartthrob. To be honest, I think she was just making sure that you were in good hands."

Sesshoumaru snorted. "She wouldn't waste her time on something as trivial as that."

"Wouldn't she?" Octavia reached up to caress his jawline. "You worry too much. She might have trouble showing it, but your mother loves you. She would never hurt you. Not on purpose, anyway."

"You give her far too much credit."

"Maybe. But I can see where she's coming from. You mean the world to her. There's nothing she wouldn't do to protect you." She smiled again. "I know the feeling."

He caught the hand that wasn't cupping his face and threaded their fingers together. She waited for him to contest her opinion, but he never did. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. Desire stirred in her stomach when his hands moved to the soft skin beneath her breasts. Her breath hitched in response to his touch, and before long, she was writhing against him.

"More," she murmured, rolling her hips. It didn't matter that she was still sore from his previous incursions, or that it was almost dawn and they hadn't slept a wink. Sleeping could wait until after she'd had her fill of him.

He kissed a path down the length of her torso—his destination obvious. She arched her spine in preparation for the imminent rush of dopamine, except it never came. The answer to her unspoken question came in the form of an assertive knock, which made her freeze and crush her thighs together, as if doing so would somehow hide the smell of their coupling. Sesshoumaru, however, seemed unperturbed by the intrusion, and tilted his head towards the door.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?" a servant's voice called. "Are you awake? I'm sorry to disturb you, but you asked to be notified when the warlock regained consciousness."

Octavia's stomach sank. The thought of facing Cyril after what she'd done on the battlefield filled her with dread, but she couldn't avoid him forever.

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed. "Is he contained?"

"Yes, my lord. There has been no resistance so far."

"Good. I'll be there shortly." He waited until the footsteps had faded into the distance before shifting his gaze back to hers. "We seem to be out of time," he stated. "Nevertheless, it would be wise if we bathed before paying our friend a visit in the jail sector, for obvious reasons."

"Won't that servant have already blabbed to everyone by then?"

"He had no idea you were even here."

She gave him a confused look.

"This room has a concealment spell woven into its walls," he explained. "It masks the scents of everyone within, including me. My father had it commissioned especially."

"Well, that's not suspicious at all," Octavia mumbled.

"He liked his privacy."

"I bet he did."

Smirking, Sesshoumaru leaned down to nuzzle her neck. Despite what the servant had just told him about Cyril, he seemed in no hurry to finish what they'd started. Resisting the urge to give in, she managed to wriggle free and hurried towards the washroom. She stopped in front of the shoji screen and glanced back at him.

"Are you coming?"

Her feet were barely over the threshold when he pounced.

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The jail sector was silent as they walked through the main corridor.

Sunlight filtered in through the gaps between the window bars, creating a ladder-like pattern on the floor and adjacent walls. The light revealed a trail of claw marks that were carved into the ground like tyre tracks, and an ominous red stain that made Octavia shudder. By the time they'd arrived at the correct cell door, her heart was pounding. Sesshoumaru told the servants to open the door and leave, which they did without protest. Octavia waited until he'd stepped into the unlocked cell before trailing in behind him.

The inside of the cell was cold and damp. It reminded her of the room the Radiant One had been imprisoned in. There was even a chain bolted to the wall furthest away from the door. The iron links were old and coated in rust, but they seemed sturdy enough. Their thick shackles were hidden beneath the prisoner's tattered robe, which bore the faded crest of Ryukotsusei. She stiffened when the warlock raised his head and met her gaze. His pupils dilated, yet he remained silent as she crouched in front of him and felt for traces of spirit magic. It was no use. She still couldn't feel it. Not like she had with Augustus.

"Tell me it isn't true," she whispered.

Cyril sighed. "I wish I could."

She blinked to dry her eyes. "I presume you had a reason?"

He nodded.

"Let's hear it, then."

He glanced over her shoulder at Sesshoumaru. "It's a long story—"

"You said that already. I don't care if we're here all week. It makes no difference to me. Now quit stalling and tell us why you lied."

The warlock lowered his head in defeat. "If you insist. But first, I have a confession to make. Do you remember when you asked about my name?"

She thought back to their conversation in the gardens that day. "I think so. Why?"

"I told you I changed it when I came of age, but that was another lie." He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "Cyrillus was my middle name. I chose it as my alias after being cursed, but before that, I was called Dimitri Petridis."

Her heart missed a beat.

"Your father was a twin, too," he continued. "My twin. Alastair and I were inseparable during our youth. We grew up in the family home overlooking Athens, alongside our brother, Galen."

Octavia's eyes widened at the mention of her father and uncle. "Then you're my . . ."

"That's right. You and I are family." His expression turned warm. "You're the spitting image of your mother. Except for the hair. Those curls are all Alastair."

"Impossible," scoffed Sesshoumaru. "She is human."

"That she is," agreed Cyril. "But so am I."

Octavia blinked. She examined his features carefully, eyes flitting between his massive jaws and leathery hide. "You don't look human."

"I used to."

Sesshoumaru piped up again. "Spare us the melodrama. If you truly are her kin, why are you here and not in the future? Or better yet—how?"

"I jumped."

Octavia's pulse jittered in response to his peculiar wording. "Was it a well that brought you here?"

Cyril shook his head.

"Then what was it?"

"You really have forgotten, haven't you?"

"Forgotten what?"

"It was New Year's Eve," he said. "I wasn't due to visit until the second week of January, but I decided to cut my trip short and surprise you all. I knew something was wrong before I even stepped out of the car. The house was shrouded in darkness, and there was this awful noise coming from below ground. I knew right away that whatever was making it wasn't human—"

"The Banishing Ritual," Octavia realised. "You were there when Augustus was taken. You could have stopped it!"

"I tried to, but it was too late. I arrived just in time to witness the creature fleeing with him through the ungodly portal from whence it came."

She slumped her shoulders. "You followed him. Didn't you?"

His eyes shone with unshed tears. "Of course I did."

"He's lying," Sesshoumaru snarled. "He has served my father for centuries. He is no mortal."

He had a point. Either Cyril wasn't who he said he was, or Augustus was much older than he'd led her to believe.

"You mentioned a curse," she said. "What did you mean by that?"

"I was attacked by a sorceress," explained Cyril. "I encountered her in the wetlands east of here after killing a youkai that had been terrorising a nearby town. As punishment for my actions, she transformed me into the very creature that I'd slaughtered. A rather creative curse, no? But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

"The schism spat me out in a temple at the heart of a quaint little village called Iwa. I can't recall the exact date, but it was sometime during the Heian period. The priests who witnessed my arrival took it upon themselves to teach me their language, and I returned the favour by telling them the story of the Radiant One. They already thought I was a messenger sent by the gods, so it didn't take much convincing on my part. Soon, the entire village had been converted into believers."

Octavia remembered what Augustus had told her about the Iwa Faction's origins. "It was you," she said. "You founded the Iwa Faction."

Cyril sighed through his nostrils. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I thought having greater numbers would help me find him, but I never did. He was only a little boy at the time. Anything could have happened to him." He averted his eyes. "Touga-sama found me not long after the curse had taken root. I couldn't go back to Iwa looking like this. They would have executed me. At that point, I had almost lost hope, but Touga-sama gave me a reason to keep living. Everything I am now, I owe it all to him."

Octavia's brow furrowed as the silence stretched. "Why didn't you just tell us?"

"Would you have believed me?"

Probably not, she thought. He could have at least tried, though.

"Did you know who I was when I came to the stronghold?"

"Not at first. I found it strange that you had the same name, but I thought it was a coincidence. I never looked for a girl, you see. As far as I was concerned, you were still in the future." Confusion spread across his features. "Hold on a moment. You said you couldn't remember anything from that period of your life. How do you know about Gus and the Banishing?"

She gripped her knees. How was she supposed to explain that the child he'd spent centuries searching for had finally been found?

"The boy lives," Sesshoumaru answered for her. "He has taken up your mantle and commands the Iwa Faction in your place."

Cyril stared at him slack-jawed. "Gus is alive?"

When Sesshoumaru failed to respond, he looked to Octavia for clarification.

"It's true," she said.

"How?"

"It would seem that the schism transported you to different eras," Sesshoumaru replied.

Cyril frowned. "But why? We used the same portal."

"Which you entered willingly," Octavia pointed out. "Augustus didn't. I'm not an expert, but his scuffle with the ngea must have messed with the timing. The schism did take him to that temple in Iwa, only it was hundreds of years after you'd been there."

"Same world, different times," mumbled Sesshoumaru.

"Have you seen him?" Cyril asked. "Do you know where he is? Is he safe?"

A lump formed in her throat. "He found a way back to the present," she answered. "And the Church and the Iwa Faction are both his to control, so yeah, I'd say he's pretty safe."

Sesshoumaru growled. "For now."

"What do you mean by that, my lord?"

Octavia shook her head. "Don't."

He ignored her warning. "Your precious nephew intends to kill his own sister in the name of greed and power."

"Gus would never do that," objected Cyril. "He loved her more than anything—"

"The boy you knew is gone," Sesshoumaru interjected. "Only the monster remains."

"But it doesn't make any sense! What could he hope to gain from killing her?"

"Have you ever heard of something called the Binding Ritual?" Octavia asked. The warlock froze. "You have, haven't you?"

"Alastair assured me that those books of his were entirely fictitious—"

"Are you shitting me!" She laughed in disbelief. "Is it any wonder that we turned out the way we did? We spent the most formative years of our lives surrounded by fucking lunatics! If you'd used even a fraction of your brain, you would have realised that something was wrong sooner. You could have saved him. You could have saved us!"

"I know. I'm sorry—"

"An apology won't bring my parents back to life!"

He exhaled sharply. "They're dead?"

Her nails sliced into the meat of her palms. Of course. Cyril had leapt through the schism before her mother had shot her father, so how could he have known? "I'm sorry. They died the same night that you and Augustus disappeared. Me, Galen, and Svetla were the only survivors."

His voice sounded tight when he asked, "Where are they now?"

"Galen was on that desert world when I last saw him. I couldn't remember him either, but he still risked his life to help me." Octavia frowned as she tried and failed to recall the nanny who had rescued her all those years ago. "I know even less about her. She saved my life only to abandon me soon afterwards. Why not just let me burn?"

Cyril snorted. "What a silly thing to say. Svetla adored you. She would have ventured to the ends of the Earth and beyond if it meant keeping the two of you safe. And if she'd been there when Gus was dragged into the schism by that thing, mark my words, she would have been the first to leap in after him."

Peering deep into his eyes, Octavia searched for traces of deception. But there weren't any. All signs pointed to him telling the truth.

"Do you believe me now? Or is there more you wish to know—"

"Why were you helping him?" Sesshoumaru asked.

"Who, the usurper? I didn't have a choice—"

"No, my father. I presume you were aware of his dealings with Nidawi. Why didn't you assure him that Erem's Vessel isn't dangerous?"

"Erem's Vessel is dangerous!" Cyril argued. "Touga-sama knew the risks. He was trying to save your life."

"By jeopardising hers!" Sesshoumaru boomed. He sounded furious. The intensity of his glare made blood rush to her cheeks.

"I didn't know it was her," Cyril muttered. "I assumed it would be an earlier vessel. Time travel isn't exactly common, my lord."

"Neither are we," Octavia countered. "We're the last of our kind, Cyril. You, me, Augustus, and Galen. We're the only ones left."

"Not in this era."

"But we are in ours! If we don't do something, it will have all been for nothing."

"What do you want from me?" She'd never heard him sound so defeated.

"I want you to look at me."

"I am looking at you—"

"No, you're not! After all this time, you still can't see me. Please just see me . . . Augustus might not need you anymore, but I do! I need you . . ." She swallowed the lump in her throat and carried on. "If you really are my uncle, then tell me how to save myself. Help me master these damned powers once and for all."

"My previous attempts all failed," he reminded her. "How do you know I'm even capable of accomplishing such a feat?"

"I don't. But at least this way I'll stand a chance."

"Your magic will be useless against him. The half cannot harm that which makes it whole."

"I know."

"Then why waste your time training for a fight you can't win?"

"Because six is enough." He and Sesshoumaru both stared at her. "The vessels that came before us," she elaborated. "Excluding Thalia, of course. Six children suffered and died for the sake of a god they probably didn't even believe in. I say no more. This ends with us."

Realisation flashed through Cyril's features. "You want to kill it."

Her silence was confirmation enough.

"It won't go down without a fight," he warned. "The Radiant One is a vengeful god. If it catches wind of what you're planning, it won't hesitate to—"

"You're wrong. This is what it wants."

"How can you know that?"

Octavia recalled the immense sorrow she had felt whilst channelling its power on the battlefield, and tried to imagine what it must be like to live without autonomy, unable to hope or dream. That wasn't life. It was purgatory.

"Because a body is just a different kind of prison," she said.

Cyril's expression turned sombre. "You're not the first to have thought about it. Your parents tried to extract the Radiant One's consciousness and banish it to the schism, but it didn't work. Do you know why? It's because it's impossible."

"Being exiled isn't the same as being set free. Anyway, Thalia succeeded in binding it to her. I bet everyone thought that was impossible, too. There has to be a way to let it go."

The warlock's eyes strayed to Sesshoumaru. "What do you think about all of this, my lord?"

"My opinion is irrelevant," he replied. "You must decide for yourself."

Cyril laughed. "And we're back to square one again. This is just like the day you brought her to me. It seems like such a long time ago now." He adjusted his tattered robes and returned his focus to Octavia. "I promised to train you, and I will, but on one condition."

"What?" she pushed.

"I want to see my brother and nephew again."

Panic sparked in her chest. "I don't think you should—"

"Please, Vee. I haven't seen them for centuries."

Cyril's casual use of the nickname made Augustus's voice bounce around her skull like a ping-pong ball wrapped in barbed wire. She reached out and cupped the warlock's jaw. What had he looked like before the sorceress had cursed him all those years ago—back when his name was still Dimitri? Had he been tall or short? Plain or handsome? Fat or thin? What colour were his eyes? Had his hair been long or short? He could have been bald for all she knew. Was he funny or serious? Had they been close? They must have been. She wished she could remember.

"He'll kill you," she whispered.

"I'm aware of the risks."

"No, you're not. He's no longer that sweet little boy we both loved so much. Family means nothing to him now."

Cyril's eyes burned with resolve. "My mind is made. I will not change it."

Octavia sighed. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I accept full responsibility for my actions. Now, do you agree to my terms or not?"

He offered her his hand. She stared at it, deliberating the consequences of agreeing to his proposal. She knew her brother would never entertain the idea of meeting with a youkai—at least, not on civil terms. Cyril would be lucky to get within ten feet of him before being reduced to cinders, but there was no denying that she needed his help. If she wanted to win, then he was her best and only option.

Octavia slipped her hand into his and gave it a firm shake. "Deal."

His eyes widened as her skin emitted a faint golden glow in response to his touch. Composing himself, he gripped her hand tighter and smiled. "Excellent."

She helped him to his feet, frowning as the clanking of chains scraped against her eardrums. She realised that his swaying wasn't due to a lack of nutrition, but rather his broken foot. The glow dimmed as remorse coursed through her veins. "I'm sorry," she muttered, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so . . ."

"Angry?" he offered.

She nodded.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I should have told you about the marks myself. It's not your fault you never learned how to use them properly." His expression turned serious. "Listen. For this to work, I cannot train you as I would an ordinary apprentice. You are Erem's Vessel, and I must treat you as such. You may find my methods harsh, but I assure you, they are essential to unlocking your full potential. Knowing that, do you still wish to accept me as your master?"

"Do you have to ask?"

His snout twisted into the shape of a grin. "Good answer."

"If you harm her," Sesshoumaru said. "I shall have your limbs sawed off one by one, until there is nothing left but a useless slab of meat that even the crows won't touch. Understood?"

"Oh, my. I mean, yes, my lord. I'll be extra careful with her."

Octavia couldn't keep her lips from curving into a self-satisfied smirk.

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Author's Corner

The cat's finally out of the bag! You have no idea how long I've been waiting to drop that bombshell about Cyril. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders lol. I wonder how Augustus and Galen will react to the news that he's not only alive, but has been transformed into a demon. Only time will tell!

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review and I'll see you next time!