by Tara Chau
I incline my head, letting him know I’m not impressed. Gabe shrugs, coming to sit next to me on the bed. “Do I need a reason?” he asks innocently.
“No,” I agree, “but you usually have one.”
He shrugs again, brushing away a loose piece of hair from my eyes. “I kind of like your hair shorter,” he says absently.
“I kind of like your hair dyed completely blue. You know this brown is a bit… old,” I say, giving him a light pat on the cheek.
"Well, that's a shame," he says, shaking his head, "I was thinking of trying a different colour."
I cock my head in interest, “Which colour?”
“Red.”
I try to picture it. Try seeing deep red hair framing his hard features. Imagine running my hands through it and seeing his ember eyes stand out against it.
I shake my head vigorously, eyes wide with horror. “No, absolutely not.”
“No?” he asks, a smile widening over his face. “And I was thinking it would be cool growing my hair extra-long. Maybe to just before my shoulders.”
I don’t even need to think about it this time before I reply. “I would cut it in your sleep,” I glare.
“And what about the colour? Don’t think you could dye it back while I’m sleeping,” he challenges.
“You’re underestimating me again,” I say, tugging at his hair which is already just below his earlobe, his fringe skimming his eyebrow.
"Well then, what colour?" he asks.
“Blue,” I yell, tapping his head.
“But it’s a bit… old,” he mocks.
“Okay, done talking about this. It’s blue, and it’s short,” I demand, "Now, why did you sleep over last night?"
He sighs in defeat, “I feel like if I let you out of my sight, then you’ll just disappear, never to return,” he says dramatically.
I smile, shaking my head. “I promise that I’m not going to disappear.”
“I don’t think you can promise that specific thing.”
“The way I see it,” I shrug, “is if I can’t control that one thing, I’m not much of a chosen one, am I?”
A knock comes at my door, which sends me into a frenzy of panic. Looking to Gabe desperately, he smiles calmly, holding up a ring. I instantly relax as he slips it on, disappearing. Thank you to whoever invented glamour rings. I hop out of bed and open the door, smiling up at Dad while doing my best to feign drowsiness.
"Morning, darling. You're going to be late for school,” Dad warns, looking into my room.
I see his eyes searching skilfully, see them peer under the bed, and through the crack of my door where the hinges connect to see the other side—the whole time looking for the boy that is, in fact, right in front of his eyes.
“Get going,” he says, waiting for my nod before walking back down the hall and into his office.
Closing the door, I let out a relieved sigh. Falling onto the bed, I hear a bark as I hit bone. Rolling off, I see Gabe materialise again, rubbing his shin.
“Sorry,” I say, smiling guiltily.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Gabe says, quoting himself from months ago.
“Wait, I’m confused. Am I cute or beautiful?” I ask, remembering my answer to this as well.
“Calculating, Calculating, Calculating,” he imitates a robot’s voice, catching onto my play. “Please try again later,” he says with a smirk.
We both start laughing, revelling in how easy it all used to be. Gabe sits up, looking down at me for a moment before he jumps off the bed, literally flying a metre in the air before landing seamlessly.
“School!”
The sensation in the room is solemn. The six of us have gathered in the training hall as planned, taking up weapons and anything extra. It had been amazingly difficult to walk around the house today like everything was normal. It was even harder to sit at the dinner table and talk to my dad.
Once he looked at me worriedly when I said something, commented that I made it sound like this would be the last dinner between the two of us. It took all my restraint to keep from crying. Even then, as soon as we finished, I walked into my room and began to cry. After, I came back out to say goodbye, pretending like I was going out for dessert with Anne, instead of telling him I was going to go and fight my ex-best friend and possibly die. Leaving with one lingering embrace, I walked back into my room and locked the door, slipping through the veranda door. I looked back, once, before jumping the fence and running here. Something in me wishes this had never happened, that I could run back to my father, that I could stay. Another, less selfish part of me forces me to keep packing.
Picking up a dagger, I look at the black handle, the carved vines, and the shining silver. Gabe's dagger feels warm in my grasp, familiar and right. Slipping it into its usual pocket, I also refill the spaces for throwing daggers, sliding the sharp flat metal through the loops.
Gabe steps up to my side and hands me a long sheath. It's half the size of me, embroidered with gold swirls, stark against the black leather. The leather platted strap is long enough for me to throw it over my body. It fits across me perfectly, allowing my chosen sword to slide from it easily, also giving me easy access. The top of the sheath is rimmed with metal, keeping it open for me to be able to place the sword back in without a struggle.
“One more gift,” Gabe promises, handing me a long sword.
Hesitantly taking the weapon, I marvel at its beauty. The blade is unique, silver with a thick stripe of black ore decorating the centre on both sides. The top of the sword is cut differently so that the whole blade itself looks like a type of arrow. Seeing the handle, I peer closer. It seems to be made from the same black material that decorates the sword, smooth and cool. The simplicity of it is what makes it dazzling. I switch to one hand, holding the handle I feel for its weight while balancing it just right. It's just heavy enough to make it hurt if I swing it, but otherwise surprisingly light. Gabe barks a warning as I touch the edge of the blade lightly. I hiss as a spark painfully slices at me. Watching as my skin splits slowly, I wince as blood oozes from the impossible wound. The cut is about a centimetre long, thin and shallow, but I can still feel the blade against my skin, the charge that it gave. Turning slowly to Gabe, I look at him wide-eyed.
“What kind of blade is this?” I ask.
Hesitating a moment, Gabe replies quietly, “It’s called a Blunt Blade.”
The room goes from quiet to silence in an instant. "It's blunt, but it has a charm on it that cuts upon contact. They're really rare."
“And really expensive,” Jess calls from the other side of the hall.
We both ignore her, but I keep this fact in the back of my mind.
“I-it felt like I was….”
“Electrocuted on a bigger, sharper scale?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“Yes, this blade was also designed to make the blow as painful as possible,” he says regretfully, "But one strike is enough to keep your opponent down or dead."
“You want me to use this?” I ask apprehensively.
"I think you should only use it if you need to. It's very effective but a bit cruel,” he admits.
“Then why did you get it?” I ask.
“Because when you use it, it will help more than you could imagine,” he assures.
Anne walks by casually, headed for a pair of short swords, when she spots the weapon and stops dead. Running over to us, she peers at the blade carefully, taking in every detail, chip, scratch, and dent. A loud shriek rockets from her. She looks to Gabe, then to me.
“Is-is that it?” Anne struggles for words, but Gabe seems to understand her perfectly.
I see his eyes widen as he takes in the recognition on Anne’s face. “It is!” Anne squeals.
“What?” I ask obliviously.
“This,” Anne says, pointing at the sword, careful not to touch it, “This is the same blade Gabe used to kill that Hydra I told y
ou about.”
I look up at him in amazement, a weapon strong enough to kill a queen. That's what he's giving me. I close my hand around the hilt but almost drop the blade, hissing at the pain from my finger. Handing the weapon to Gabe, I look at my hand, taking a second to make sure I am seeing straight. The slice on my finger has not healed but grown longer, deeper. I hear Gabe bark a curse as he passes the sword to Anne, taking up my hand and running me out of the hall, down into the infirmary.
We burst through the doors, and Gabe shoves me down onto a chair as he ruffles through a cupboard silently. Staring down at my hand, I see the wound growing still, splitting my skin down to the second joint. Gabe approaches me, kneeling down to look at it closer. I whine as he presses a wet cloth onto my finger. The sting only slightly outweighs the original pain. As the pressure increases, I begin to draw my hand away, but Gabe holds it firmly to the material.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Polexn venom,” he says simply.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, taken back.
“It has healing properties. And it stops further damage from happening,” he explains.
“That’s gross,” I say, screwing up my nose unintentionally as the sting begins to subside.
Gabe leans up to brush his lips against my nose, feather-light. I slip my hand from the cloth, looking at the cut that has finally stopped growing, although it still isn't healing.
Gabe stands up to reach behind me, ruffling in a drawer and coming back with a band-aid. I lift an eyebrow at him, surprised at how mundane his solution for binding my finger is.
“You don’t have some… dragon blood to heal it completely?” I ask, only half sarcastic.
"Now that's absurd. Dragons don't exist,” he says regretfully.
"But Vampires and Lycans do,” I point out.
“The exact reason why dragons don’t exist anymore,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Ha, ha,” I say, taking the band-aid from him to wrap around my finger.
Coming to stand abruptly, I shock Gabe into falling down. Offering him a hand, I pull him up before beginning to walk back to the training hall. We enter, and my eyes slide straight to Anne, who is still inspecting the cursed blade lovingly. Taking it from her carefully, I sheath it on my back, smiling at the satisfying ease.
“Gabe, I assume the sheath is yours too?” I ask while he slips more knives into his boots.
“Well, no other sheath would be able to carry it,” he shrugs.
“I can’t keep accepting more gifts, Gabe,” I say.
He looks up at me, standing from his position on the floor. “I think you can accept this one.”
I shake my head, getting used to the extra weight of the sword on my back, which will make it more difficult to move. "I'm only borrowing it."
He shrugs again, taking up his bow and quiver. "Thank you,” I remember.
Gabe stands straight, looking down at me, “You’re welcome.”
We stare at each other for a few moments. I can see Gabe taking in every detail in my face, my posture. I know that what I've told him has kicked in. Kill the demon if it is to rise. Seeing his blank façade slip away, his shoulders hunching into himself, I smile weakly as Gabe steps forward, only to be blocked off by another.
Jess comes up to me and beams, “If you don’t want the sword, could I have it? All I have is this thing,” she says, chucking me a lipstick tube.
Looking down at it in confusion, I speak, “This is lipstick.”
“Open the cap,” she says bluntly.
Cautiously slipping the cap off, I almost drop the tube as it extends into a katana, long and gold.
“Don’t touch the blade,” she advises, “It’s covered in poison.”
Handing it back to her in astonishment, I reply, “You seem to have a pretty sick weapon already.”
“True,” she admits, but her eyes still gleam at the sight of the hilt poking out from my scabbard.
“Jess, that was a gift,” Gabe glares.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she quotes, walking off in surprisingly high spirits for what we were about to do.
Suddenly the room goes silent again, and I wonder if Gabe has another priceless gift for me. Turning around to face what everyone else is staring at, I feel my expression darken as I spot him strolling through the hall. Not only my group, but everyone else that is training as well, watch as he approaches me, only to be stopped by Gabe, Ty, and Anne.
“What are you doing here, Chax?” Ty asks.
It seems that everyone knows who he is, whether it is his pale features that give him away as a Grey, or just by rumour, they all know and do nothing to hide their interest.
“I came to talk to Dianna Iysador,” he says, more like a demand of my presence.
Stepping out between Gabe and Anne, I take a few more steps forward before it can get violent. "I'm here. What is it you want, Chax?”
As usual, his face is a mask of blank dullness, nothing showing through his mask as he looks down at me.
“We need to talk.”
I ignore his souring expression and the protest of the other three, following him into the hall outside, where he stops.
“What is it?” I ask, not bothering to strain myself for the politeness he doesn’t bother to give me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks. I hope he didn't hear about this from others.
“As sure as I can be at this point,” I reply.
“I’m only here to make sure you know what you’re about to walk into,” he clarifies. Something in his eyes tells me that he knows what will happen, though this time, I have no desire to know.
"It's something I have to do, so it doesn't matter what I walk into or what I don't walk out of. It's the right thing to do."
He nods, understanding my sacrifice. This warning is a surprise, a kind gesture in his own way, a sign that he cares to some degree.
"Thank you for trying to warn me,” I say, attempting to smile.
“Yeah,” he nods, looking me up and down, "You've got spirit, Iysador, I’ll give you that.”
Leaving me with that one last compliment, he turns and jogs down the hall, back turned to me as his goodbye. Walking slowly back into the hall, I shiver as I see everyone sitting, talking among themselves, ready.
“What did he want?” Gabe asks as I come down to sit next to him.
I hesitate, unsure of whether it is even worth explaining. "Just wanted to thank me." As soon as the words came from my mouth, I regretted it. The lie tasted bitter as I watched Gabe's expression turn cold.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says coolie.
“How do you know that’s not what he came to say?” I say accusingly.
“Because I know Chax, he doesn’t thank,” Gabe sneers.
"You knew him; it's been years since you even looked at him without that look; you're doing it now."
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, but I can see that he’s still pressing for my unmodified response.
I yield a sigh before nodding my head, “He just wanted to know if I know what I am about to walk into.”
“Do you?” he asks.
This time it's my turn to give him a disapproving look. "Yes,” I reply simply.
Forcing my body, I stifle the small voice inside my head, which demands I sit and stand. "Let's get moving,” I bark.
As I stride out of the hall, I'm well aware of the lingering looks of others as they behold my extensive weapons. As the sword swings slightly, banging against my legs, and as I run up the stairs, ready to kill my ex-best friend.
* * *
Shadows flicker and move, seeming to watch, dancing apprehensively. Creeping through the night, Gabe, Jess, and I wait one street away for word from Ty. As planned, exactly five minutes later, Gabe's phone pings with an alert, a message from Ty that guarantees smooth entry. Gliding through the boards, we silently lan
d on the top staircase, watching, positioning, with feline grace. Looking to Jess and Gabe, I'm reassured by their practised eyes, their attention to detail.
Find the book.
The ancient voice calls inside my head. I startle, bristling, earning a glare from Gabe.
Obtain it.
It calls again, this time, I'm more prepared, but it still feels unnatural. I've felt it previously and now know what it is. A light that fights the red and blooms when danger nears to warn me, it's melded itself into my head, to be able to speak to me, however unnerving. Though I change my view, not thinking of it as an invasion but a blessing. Something here to advise and oversee.
Now.
It pushes, and I feel my body jerk forward, even as I push against its overpowering will. Jess hisses and yanks me back into the shadows violently, her eyes a warning sign. She releases me, and I stare at my hands in horror. Feeling its attempt to make me move again, I shove it deep back into my mind, so it's a whisper. It calls again.
The book!
I ignore it, hissing as I shove the overbearing power into its cage. Not only do I host a war inside me, but I have also now joined it. I start as I see Gabe and Jess watching me expectantly, Jess’s gaze sweeping back to the sight they question me on. Lucien walking into his room unaccompanied, book in hand.
Without so much as an order, I bend my knees and spring down the whole flight of steps, rolling silently as I hit the bottom effortlessly, rising, dipping into the next shadowed nook. My eyes snap to inspect an ever-slight change in the air. I relax an inch as I see Gabe and Jess crouching opposite me in another covered space. I make my eyes exchange a silent demand with Gabe.
Now.
Leaping from the shadows, the three of us burst through the opening in Lucien's tent, silence and surprise not even being considered in this attack, ruled out for obvious reasons.
The sight in front of us stops me dead. I do a double take as my eyes adjust. That ancient thing in me flares again, seeing the book through my eyes, in the hands of an unworthy, in the hands of Lucien. It pulls me forward, but this time I know its will and how much control it holds, and I fight it back till it's nothing more than a tickle in the back of my soul. My own will is not the only thing that keeps me in place but also what lies ahead - a girl.