by Hayley Todd
Damien and Carson wasted no time and leaping to my side. Pain stabbed through me again and Carson slid to his knees before me. He cried out but still took me into his arms, pressing us close together. His warmth was a wave of comfort over me. And I kissed him, pressing my lips hard to his, tears streaming down my face.
He ran his hands over my back, caressing my skin desperately, kissing me eagerly. He groaned as another ripple of pain slammed through us both. I thought I could feel the connection sliding away, the hold of the imprint loosening.
Damien lurched nearer, dragging a nearly unconscious Anton under his arms. “You are all three connected.” He cast a dangerous gaze to Anton. Evidently something had come to light in my absence. I was sure Carson had filled Damien in once he had figured it out. I couldn’t be mad at Anton for the imprint though. He could’ve done so much worse, but he hadn’t. He had influenced himself more than me and gone against his father’s twisted wishes.
“Henrick is going to use their life force to keep me alive after the imprint breaks,” I said quickly, feeling that the information was vital.
My father paused for a moment, thoughtful before his eyes lit up. “I have an idea,” he said, resting Anton close enough for us to touch.
Anton slumped toward us, unable to hold himself up. Carson grabbed him by his shoulder and hoisted him against himself, still clinging to me with his other arm. He looked up at Damien for direction as another ripple of pain had all three of us crying out. They were coming closer together now, agonizing waves of earth-shattering agony.
“It’s about to break,” I breathed, knowing it was true even if I wasn’t sure how.
The witches in the room didn’t respond to any movement or sound we made, completely absorbed in their chanting and the power building. I started to worry about what we would do with them, then decided that it would have to be something to focus on after we were all not dead.
Damien nodded. “Anton, you can make an imprint, yes?”
Anton nodded up to him weakly. I wasn’t sure which was weighing on him more, what he had done, or exhaustion from this pain.
My father stepped forward. “The only way I see you all surviving is for Anton to build a new imprint while the old one fades. For my plan to work, Kyra must mutually imprint you both,” he said, looking at both of them.
Carson and Anton shared a pained, weary, but still rivalrous gaze. The fact that they could keep up their petty rivalry even in the face of death was almost admirable.
After a long moment, they both looked to my father, nodding. He looked over to me next. “Will you do this, Kyra? I’m not certain how it will affect you but we don’t have long to find another option.”
I hesitated. I knew I couldn’t say no. A negative answer would mean certain death for all three of us. But my imprint with Carson was a powerful one. Could I handle that twice? How would I feel about Anton? And moreover, how would Kellic feel, not only knowing that Anton had imprinted me, but finding that I had imprinted him back. I could see how they had hit it off and it stung to consider the pain I’d inflict.
And what about Valeria? She wasn’t here. How would this affect her? Would she die? “What about Valeria?” I asked, feeling the words bubbling out without permission. Another wave of energy rending pain exploded in my chest and I gasped, falling forward, unable to breathe until it had passed. There wouldn’t be many more and I knew it.
The three men exchanged a glance. But it was surprisingly Anton who answered. “It’s likely the backstabbing bitch will die.” He shot a glance to Carson who looked unaffected.
I took a moment to myself, to mentally mourn the life of another, no matter how I felt about her and the things she had done. Then I nodded. “Let’s do it,” I replied.
Damien nodded in response and glanced at Anton. “What do they need to do?”
Anton explained quickly, with a long gasping moment of pain in the middle, that he would need to touch us both to foster the connection and we would drink each other’s blood. He demanded with frustrating insistence that I drink from Carson first since I could only drink from them one at a time.
I was worried that the moment in between might cost Anton his life. I voiced this concern but he refused to accept anything less.
“If I die, I die,” he growled. “I won’t do that to you. I won’t risk him. Especially not after what my father has done...what I have done.”
They shared a glance and I felt the tension escalate between us. He seemed to be sincere and I wondered how much his imprint for me impacted that.
I tried once more to argue but realizing I had no other solution quickly dashed my reticent refusal. “Fine,” I replied, almost petulantly. I didn’t want to see Anton die any more than Carson. But I also didn’t want to lose Carson. I feared that loss would break me no matter if I survived or not.
Anton nodded and leaned close to me, cupping his hand around the back of my neck. Carson leaned over my other shoulder and Anton pressed his palm to his neck as well. Carson only flinched for a second under the contact but fortunately, stayed quiet.
We shared a meaningful and powerful gaze and he pressed a kiss you my lips tenderly. “I love you, Kyra,” he whispered. “No matter what, I’ll always love you.”
I returned the kiss with everything in me and responded with, “I love you too, Carson. Nothing will ever change that.”
He grinned softly at me, and touched my face, brushing my long hair from my neck.
Another swarming wave of hideous agony plunged through my chest and I could tell it hit them both at the same time as they fell against me in writhing torment. I supported them both, and Anton flinched. I knew there was a horrific anxiety and pain in me that he could no doubt feel but I wasn’t in any condition to change it.
His face straightened into a resolved expression and some of that anxiety slipped away from me. I looked into his amber eyes exasperated. “You don’t have to do that right now,” I told him.
He smiled and huffed a hard laugh. “I can’t really help it. Your emotions...call to me. They beg me to draw them away. It doesn’t help that feeling your emotions has become...part of me. If I don’t rid you of them, I can’t think straight myself.” If I didn’t know Anton, I would’ve sworn his cheeks burned red right then.
Pain splashed over me in a rush, halting any sort of response in its tracks. Unlike the other waves, this one didn’t ebb and flow. It exploded within me and I was sure that my heart had erupted within my chest. The pain was all consuming, a fire that ate me from the inside out. Something snapped, rending my mind from me and though I could think, I couldn’t feel anything but a burning existence.
It was the end, we were out of time.
Anton was going to die.
Carson was going to die.
I was going to die.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The most exciting part of my young adulthood used to be my night club. I had dreamed of it since I was a teenager. I had been an orphan with only my two best friends/cousins to truly give me company since my grandmother passed when I was sixteen. I had never really considered anything other than that club. I never wondered if I would get married and who it would be to. I had never roamed thoughts of children. I had always anticipated I’d get to make those kinds of decisions with plenty time to spare.
I had never even begun to contemplate the idea that there could be such a layer of mystery to my life. I hadn’t anticipated ever meeting my father. As far as I had known, my mother had been killed when I’d only been six years old. My memories of her got me through more than one trial in my life. Would I have desired to live with them both and get to experience them and their endless love? Absolutely. But it wasn’t something I could’ve ever changed.
So instead I devoted all my thought and time to my two best friends and my entrepreneurial dreams. That was honorable right? Friends and potential the world over? They were all I had needed. Or so I had to myself. I’m not even sure that I had realized how much I�
��d truly desired for more than that.
And now, I had achieved so much more than I had ever dreamed in such a short time. I met my father who turned out to be an amazing, loving, and protective man who had always wanted and loved me in those years where I had questioned all things holy as to why he didn’t. I had reunited with my mother who I still loved with the reckless abandon of a heartbroken six year old girl. My best friends had never stopped supporting me. Not once.
And none of that is to even mention the new things in my life. I had found out that I was part of an underground supernatural society whose full depths I knew I still didn’t entirely grasp. But I enjoyed learning more every day with an endless amount of time stretching out before me to learn more. I never knew that as a human, I felt weak, temporary, and subpar. That is, until I could truly experience what it was like to be more than that.
And Carson, oh Carson. He was a wildcard. I had dated before but it had never really been anything too serious. And then there was Carson. The man had entranced me since before I had even laid eyes on him. He felt right. He felt perfect. He was my exact other. After having him in my life, I wondered how I’d never felt the hole in my soul that his presence had filled. Surely, I had never been myself before him. He made me better. He made me stronger and more confident and driven. I never wanted to be without him.
I was so much more than the hapless twenty four year old who had begun this journey. And if only I could have Will returned to me, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I had never really contemplated how I would die. I mean what twenty four year old has that planned out in their head? This felt very near to dying though. Or, maybe I was already dead.
The area I could see was pitch black, no pinprick of light shining from any direction to give me any indication of where I was. I was laying on a hard surface but the endless black provided no context. I pushed myself off the not ground, my eyes searching the darkness for anything. Was this death? Was this the last thing I would see?
As though she had been there all along, a figure stepped from the darkness. I didn’t recognize her visually but she felt familiar.
“Hello, Kyra,” she said as though there were nothing odd about our meeting. She was tall, taller than I was even. She had long waves of hair, a similar color to mine own if purpose not a shade darker. She had stunning electric blue-white eyes. They were definitely blue in pigment but were light and bright and I was sure that if the sun hit them right, they’d gloss to an almost white. She was truly lovely, her lips plump and pink, her skin pale but a lovely blush shining through.
“Who are you?” I asked. That tingling familiarity bothering me. She seemed so familiar. As though she were a close friend or relative that I hadn’t seen in so long that I couldn’t place them but I knew we had a connection.
She turned her head away from me, looking off into the nothing before glancing back. “I think you know who I am,” she responded cryptically.
I narrowed my eyes at her, sitting on the empty ground. She gazed down at me for a long moment before sighing and sliding to the ground beside me.
“This is most undignified,” she complained, crossing her legs over each other. I looked at what she was wearing for the first time. She had a metallic breastplate strapped across her torso, a crimson cloak hanging off on shoulder and down to her knees. At her waist she had a long metal skirt covering her thighs, a belt hanging from it with a sheath at her hip. The sword there had a black leather wrapped grip and I knew that I had wielded the weapon before.
Well, I hadn’t.
Achillia had.
My eyes opened wide and I looked up at her. She nearly smiled, realizing that I had made the connection. It was a small, serious expression but in a perfect world I would call it a grin. She touched her palm to the pommel of the sword, lifting it slightly from its sheath, revealing the long familiar silver blade.
“Achillia?” I asked, watching her closely.
She looked off into the nothingness again, speaking to me but distracted. “I have been called many names. Achillia is but one. Kyra is but another.”
My heart start hammering in my chest. “What do you mean?” I asked her, suddenly on edge.
She swung her gaze back to me, her eyes glowing faintly now, the blue casting eerie light across her skin. She stared at me in silence for a long moment, as though willing me to understand without being told. After several seconds she sighed.
“I am not Achillia. I am the spirit that inhabited Achillia. I am the spirit within you.”
I stared blankly at her. What on earth did that mean?
She rolled her eyes and I felt mildly irritated. You show up speaking in riddles and hope for me to immediately understand what you mean?
She looked me up and down and I glanced, seeing my gorgeous ball gown in tatters. I was getting really sick of not being able to keep cute clothes. My feet were bear so it seemed I’d lost the ankle killing heels at some point.
“I have existed for all of time. I have been many beings, including yourself. I am a spirit being but also a power.” Her eyes flared for a moment, the blue sheen drowning out the individual features of them. Instead of pupils and irises, she had only blue.
“You’re my magick?” I asked, trying to piece together what she was saying.
She smiled for a moment, averting her gaze again. “Not exactly,” she replied without further explanation. I tried to be patient here. I mean, if I was dead what choice did I really get? She suddenly swung back to me, gently pressing her forefinger against my chest. “I am your spirit, your heart, I am you, but I am also more.”
Didn’t these beings get sick of riddles?
“I am you, reborn again and again. You are connected to Achillia because she once shared my existence within her as well.”
“Okay,” I replied as though this all made sense, even if I was still fighting to grasp the concept. “Kind’ve like a reincarnation?” I asked.
The woman nodded her head as though trying to decide if that were sufficient enough description. “Something like that,” she replied finally, her overwhelming gaze falling on me again. She felt simultaneously no older than me and also as though she were ancient, which it sounded like she probably was.
“I am a being reborn when the world needs it most. I can assist and guide you in bringing the world’s population back from the brink of destruction by teaching you and showing you the mistakes made by your predecessors. I am here to regain order when the balance has been lost.”
I stared at her again, hating that she made me feel like an ignorant child.
“There is a nemesis, my equal and also my opposite. She thrives on chaos and changes the world year after year with her will which draws me back to this plane. She is coming which means the world as you know it is in danger.”
“What about Valeria?” I asked. “Does she have something to do with this?”
She seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging. “I have graced her with a touch of my power, so yes to a degree. She is not myself or the nemesis but she has a bit of my sight.”
I considered how Valeria had simply touched me and dragged me into a trance, showing me the last moments of Achillia’s life as they unfolded. I had assumed that had been her magick. Perhaps it was a bit of that, given by this spirit.
We sat in silence for a moment, this world eerie in its lack of input. There was no sight, no sound, no smell, nothing to touch, no taste. It just was. It simply existed.
“So, what does this mean for me?” I asked, considering all of her words.
“This is simply a reminder to follow your heart. Your instincts will rarely let you down.”
Though I was confused, I wanted to ask her a million things. If she was some type of celestial being, what all did she truly know?
“What if I want to talk to you again?” I asked.
She huffed a quiet laugh and it jingled like a thousand beautiful wind chimes. “It is not often that my host dies, so I would
hope we do not encounter each other again in this life.”
My heart hammered out an unsteady rhythm in my chest. “I’m dead?” I asked.
She considered it for a second. “For now,” she replied, looking off into the distance again.
“Why me?” I suddenly asked, desperate to get the question out as soon as I had thought of it. If nothing else became clear in this vision, she could at least answer that.
She looked me over again, curiously, as though considering how this could possibly be a question. “Because you are you,” she responded, not truly answering the question.
I gave her a hard glare. She had to realize that that didn’t explain anything.
She sighed. “You are me, I am you. We are not one without the other. Achillia is also me. She is also you. One of us does not exist without the others.”
I puzzled over that for a moment.
“We do not have long,” she said, still gazing in that far distance as though she were searching for something. “Always remember,” she looked back to me, “the nemesis enjoys meddling in the lives of her enemy’s host. Things are rarely a coincidence.”
The blackness surrounding us began to lighten, like the first grey-white streaks as dawn approaches. It cut through the darkness as though it was a tangible sheet to be shorn away. Achillia stood and held a hand out to me. I stared at the extended limb, unsure of what it would be like to touch an inhuman (non-supernatural even) being.
“Come,” she commanded. “It is not your time, and our time is up.” I reached forward, wrapping my fingers around her hand, surprised at the coldness of the contact. An explosion of blue-white light erupted in my eyes, washing out the entirety of the black nothingness.
Fangs sank into my neck on either side, pulling my consciousness from the floating realm that it had wandered to. Their teeth hurt, the connection being built burning within me where the other one had blown apart in a starburst of agony. In that moment between, where I was so completely alone, I wondered how anyone existed without an imprint.