“You kept that quiet, didn’t you sweetheart?” he whispered.
He drew back, and I struggled into a sitting position, wondering what would happen to me now.
“I wasn’t supposed to let you see.”
He reached forward, and I flinched away, but he shot me disparaging look and cupped my chin, his grip surprisingly gentle.
“You needn’t ever fear me Beatrice.”
In answer to that question, I flicked a look over his shoulder, in the direction of the roasting spit, though I avoided actually looking at it, and he winced as if I had slapped him.
“Most pure-breed synfees crave human flesh, it’s true, but it’s also something that I avoid.”
“I doubt that.”
“Doubt all you want,” he pulled me to my feet then, and I let him, “but it’s true.”
“You kept me purposefully out-of-it.” I accused, gesturing to the chessboard.
“Would you have preferred to watch?” He asked the question calmly, with no hint of remorse in his eyes, and I shivered.
My eyes fell upon the men lying on the floor then, and I stiffened. Nareon moved behind me, I felt his formidable presence close, though he didn’t touch me.
“It’s powerful. Almost frighteningly so.” He said cryptically.
I wasn’t able to answer, because something else had stricken me as strange. The men didn’t look dead at all. They looked as if they had fallen into a peaceful sleep, their eyes closed, no sign of a struggle, no blood. As my confusion grew, something niggled in the back of my mind, and it wasn’t until I turned and saw the admiration stamped all over Nareon’s handsome features that it finally clinked into sickening clarity.
“Oh no…” I gasped, falling to my knees, bitter tears spilling down my cheeks, a burning horror chocking in my throat. “Oh god no.”
He knelt beside me and pulled me into his arms, cradling me like a child, soothing me with words that I didn’t listen to, stroking my hair. Of course Hazen hadn’t wanted Nareon to know, I was already tied into helping him, I didn’t need to add another skill into the repertoire of powers at the synfee King’s disposable. Especially not this power.
Eventually I pushed away from him, scrambling to be free of his manipulations, and he didn’t try to stop me. I rode hard to the cottage and my father, while the tears streamed down my face, and when I burst into he cottage, I didn’t try to hide them. Except that the cottage, my own little brick sanctuary, was teeming with people. Everybody seemed to lunge all at once, and it wasn’t until Hazen jumped in front of me and pushed me against the door that I began to recognise people. Hazen wasn’t the only person who had moved in front of me, shielding me with their backs. My father was also there, and Cale. I saw Rose and Miriam in the corner, looking at me with tear-stricken faces, and behind them, lurking in the shadows, was Joseph Harbringer. The rest were all soldiers.
I thought about the two synfee men I had just killed, their absurdly peaceful expressions flitting through my mind, and I began to panic, though of course none of these people would either know nor care about something like that. Hazen had seen it though, and he stiffened, turning slowly to face me. He grabbed my shoulders, dark eyes boring into me, and I heard his voice in my head. There was another presence there too, one I suspected was Harbringer, though he stayed silent.
Show me that again Bea.
Obediently I brought the image back up, though I flinched outwardly at having to see those faces again, and I heard my father’s panicked voice beside me.
“Don’t hurt her, be gentle dammit.”
Hazen ignored him, latching onto the memory, sifting through the events that led up to it, and then he spoke again, his voice deep and calm despite the whirlwind of panic now racing through me.
This is very important Bea, and I need you to answer honestly. Have you ever done anything like that before?
I recoiled from him, feeling as if he had physically slapped me, and tried to throw the sheer force of my horror at him in answer to his question. His hands trembled where they held me, and I immediately seized control of my mind, not wanting to hurt him.
No. I said, willing him to see the truth of my words, never, Hazen, never.
He withdrew from my mind then, and pulled me into his arms. Still reeling, I let him embrace me momentarily, but Nareon’s face flashed through my mind, and I felt sick to my stomach again, so I pushed him away. Instead I turned to my father. I reached out, already fearing his rejection, but he pulled me to him immediately, and let me sob into his shoulder. After a time, I disentangled myself and caught his eyes, so lovely, so kind and so familiar.
He’s a killer, just like you. Some voice whispered inside me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, ignoring the way my tone broke, and refusing to look at anyone else.
“A man died over the weekend, it had already been several days by the time they found him, so extracting anything from his mind was difficult. They only got your face. They’re here to examine your mind.”
Frowning, I pushed away every other emotion that warred inside my body, ready to tear me apart, and focused on only this one thing. A man that I hadn’t killed was much easier to think about than two others I had killed.
“Didn’t Hazen just do that?”
“No.” Hazen answered, a strange look on his face.
Miriam strode forward then, and clasped my hands, her expression torn and upset.
“Hazen refused. I’m so sorry Bea, please forgive me.”
I blinked, confusion growing, and then Joseph Harbringer moved from the shadows.
“I will try to be gentle,” he said, and I knew that I was supposed to go to him.
My father didn’t seem willing to let me go, and Miriam had to put a hand on his arm for him to release me. But then I was the one who wouldn’t move, and Rose stepped forward and grabbed my hand, winding her fingers through mine. Hazen’s voice sounded in my head again, and I flicked my gaze in his direction.
She won’t leave you. She wants you to know that she’ll be there with you.
I didn’t show any indication that I had heard him, but I squeezed Rose’s hand, and stepped toward Harbringer, catching Cale’s eye as I passed, and drawing strength from his familiar, dear face. When I reached Harbringer, he looked pointedly at Rose’s hand, and she pulled away slightly, but didn’t leave my side, and then he reached for me.
It was strange, to be grabbed by a synfee who wasn’t quite a synfee. His touch was pleasant as his hand wound about my arm and drew me forwards. My head barely brushed his shoulders, and I had to tilt my head right back to look into those inky black eyes, which he was now compelling me to do. His compulsion was heavy, and tasted of strength, though it wasn’t as strong as Nareon’s, nor as all-encompassing. He began coaxing memories from me, one-by-one, and I was powerless to stop him.
I saw myself laughing, spinning in one of Rose’s more ridiculous dresses, her and Miriam in the background. I saw Hazen come into the room, saw Rose’s shoulders stiffen, and then I was at the table again, and the King was storming out of the room. The memories were still clear, even as my intoxicated state deepened, and I found myself seeing things that I had never noticed even on the night. The way men around me stared, how they pushed at each other for their chance to take me into their arms for a dance, how one of them in particular watched me constantly, eyebrows drawn over narrowed eyes. It was this man, who slipped the small blue vial into my cup. I watched in growing terror as he tugged me out of the room and down to the garden on the first level. He pushed me against the door and began fumbling with my skirts, and I despaired at my own drooping eyelids, at the things that spilled from his mouth as he reached for his own trousers.
I started to fight against Joseph then, but he clamped his other hand around my free arm, and held me firmly, pushing the memory to continue. The man whispered that he wanted me awake for the first time, and my weak cries only seemed to spur him on. He grabbed my hair, yanked my head to the side, and
licked my neck. My fists pummelled his shoulders weakly.
In reality, I had begun to sob, and fight against Joseph harder.
Why! I screamed, overriding the memory for a moment, why are you showing me this!
The man jerked his hips up then, and the pain was agonising. He grunted as he moved against me, and I screamed my pain weakly, even as the darkness roiling at the edges of my mind grew to an impossible level. I heard myself scream, the sound tearing through the cottage. I didn’t want to see anymore, so I shut myself away, and let Joseph finish his intrusion while I hid from it all, refusing to see what he saw.
I curled into a tiny ball in my mind, buried my face in my hands and sobbed, until he finally released me, and then I did the same thing in reality. I rocked against the wall, lurching away and flinching when anyone tried to touch me, and became aware of a terrible, tearing pain that shot through my body, as though the rape were happening again. I wondered briefly how I hadn’t felt any pain when I woke up in the morning, and could only come to the conclusion that I had managed to somehow block that out, along with everything else that I had seen or felt. But now I had no such luxury.
I didn’t care if I had killed the man, in that moment. Only cared that I couldn’t do it again, and again, and again.
Some hours later, when all was dark, and the people had left, I opened my eyes to find my father propped up against the wall, a few meters away from me, his face haggard, his expression lost. I sniffed, and his eyes swung to me.
“Bea…” he looked like he wanted to come to me, but he stayed where he was, “you don’t have to tell me anything, but I wish you would. I can’t stand this. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“Didn’t Joseph tell everyone?” My voice was dull, lifeless.
I didn’t care, but I could tell that my father did. He looked alarmed, and again, he twitched as if he would move to me.
“He said that you were innocent. He said that he couldn’t find anything. Miriam ordered the soldiers away, and asked him again. It was obvious that he was hiding something, and the way you acted… He repeated the same thing, and then left. You wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”
He dragged his hands over his face, and a tear slid down his cheek. Feeling my heart breaking all over again, I chocked on my next words, “Hazen, is he still here?”
I don’t know how I knew that the others wouldn’t leave me like this, but I did. My father nodded, and moved hesitantly forward, offering his hand. I ignored it, trying to also ignore the hurt that flashed across his face, and followed him to my bedroom. Rose was curled up on my bed, her eyes staring sightlessly at some point on the wall, Cale was slumped over my desk, and Hazen was at my window, his shoulders slumped, his dark head turned away. They all stood when they saw me, but didn’t approach.
I couldn’t look at any of them, especially Hazen, but my head jerked in his direction.
“Tell them. I can’t.”
At his silence, I finally looked up, and felt my empty devastation reflected in his own eyes. I wanted to collapse, but knew that my father would catch me, and I couldn’t bear his touch.
“I can’t.” He whispered.
I couldn’t look away from him. Those dark eyes were home, home for my broken soul, because I knew that his was broken too. Whatever he felt about me, it had hurt him, torn him apart, shattered him just as much as it had shattered me, and facing that hurt was much better than the terror, the pity I sensed from the others. I went to him, surprising both him and myself, and he wound me carefully into his arms.
“Then show them.” My tone still sounded lifeless, but there was the slightest tremor there now, and I whispered to him in my head.
Don’t let me go.
His arms tightened, and he fell back to the bed that Rose had vacated, pulling me with him, his mind slipping into mine, soothing it. I knew that he was putting me to sleep, saving me from the reactions of the others as they saw what I had seen, and I was grateful to him, even though it meant that I was leaving him alone in his brokenness.
The next morning I woke up still cocooned by Hazen, his arms held me gently, his presence was a blanket in my head, calming the tearing pain, the empty hurt that threatened to rip through me. He must have sensed me waking up. I opened my eyes and found that the room was empty.
How did they take it? I asked in my mind, not wanting to speak, not wanting to leave the comforting bubble that he had created in my head.
Bad. Rose is asleep in the other room. Your father left.
Left?
You’re not the only one who fights the darkness, Bea.
I felt sick then, but Hazen quickly soothed over it.
Cale? I prompted.
He destroyed your door.
Surprised, I opened my eyes again and looked to where my door should have been. It now hung in splintered ruins.
Is he okay?
Worry about yourself.
Are you okay?
He didn’t answer, but I felt his arms tighten fractionally.
Hazen?
I am hanging on, the same way that you are.
I guessed that meant that he was sheltered by his own manipulation of my mind.
Don’t let go. I said, and a few moments later, I fell back asleep, this time without Hazen’s help, though I am sure he was the one who kept my dreams away.
We didn’t move all day, and when the sky began to darken again, I started to wonder why Cale or Rose, or more importantly—my father, hadn’t yet come into the room. I began to panic, wondering if they were disgusted by what they had seen, that they didn’t want to see me anymore.
“God, Bea, don’t think like that.” Hazen groaned, his voice jolting me in the darkness.
He spoke in my head then, his tone more soothing.
I told them that you were fine. They’re giving you space. Should I call them in?
I shook my head, and the next morning, it was only hunger that spurred him into action again. I felt him leave me, felt the warmth of his body disappear, and a cold replaced it, jolting me into an awareness that had me wondering if I was even asleep in the first place. My body started to shiver, and the fear descended, heavy and consuming, until I was shaking and sobbing, crawling into the corner of my bed, drawing my legs up and staving off some imaginary foe.
Hazen returned within seconds, pulling me back to him and stroking my back until I calmed down. I could see someone’s outline in the remains of the doorway, having come running just as Hazen had, but I ignored them, letting Hazen uncoil my limbs and stretch me out, pulling the covers around us and curling himself around me, gradually calming my violent shaking with his warmth. My eyes focused then, and the rather large silhouette separated into Cale and Rose. I closed my eyes against their expressions, and suddenly realised that my behaviour was only making it worse for everyone. An insane notion began to form then, blossoming into an idea that had Hazen immediately stiffening.
“No.” He said, loud enough that everyone jumped, including me, “no way, Bea.”
I slammed a wall down in my mind immediately, reflexively, but without Hazen’s presence, my own grief and horror was staggering. I cried out and turned, burying my face in his chest, and clutching at his shirt, opening my mind to him. He slid back in easily, and I eventually calmed down, but by that time, I was exhausted again. I slipped back into sleep, not sparing a moment to contemplate how much sleep I had already had, and how little food.
The next morning Hazen was gone again, but Cale and Rose were there. When I woke up and began to panic, they approached me hesitantly. I didn’t flinch away, didn’t even seem to notice them, but when I awoke again a few hours later, I realised that I had fallen asleep in their arms. They sat either side of me on the bed, our backs against the wall, my head lolling on Cale’s shoulder. Rose clutched my hands, her arm looped about my waist, and across the room, my father was sitting at my desk. There were bruises on his face and bloody scrapes across the backs of his knuckles, his orange hair was mu
ssed, and his face was haggard.
“Dad.” I said, “I’m sorry.”
He began to cry then, and came to me, falling to the ground, his head in my lap. A strange feeling seized me, and I released Rose’s hand to run my fingers through his hair. How selfish of me, to wallow in my own grief, when these people had all experienced my own fear, my own pain and terror. They had stayed strong for me, especially Hazen, and I had shut myself off from them, hurting them even more as I flinched away from them.
“I’m so sorry.” I whispered again, stroking his head, calming him.
That was how Hazen found us, an hour later, when he walked through my permanently open doorway with several bags weighing down his arms. Miriam was behind him, her face tight and unsure.
It is okay? He asked hesitantly in my mind.
Of course, she is always welcome.
He seemed surprised by the strength of my reply, and moved to sit against the wall, leaving the one free chair in the room for his mother. She looked like she wanted to throw herself at me, but my father had already done that, and so I called quietly to Hazen in my mind. He looked up, his arm elbow-deep in one of the bags, freezing.
It’s not her fault Hazen, please make sure she knows that. She couldn’t have known what had happened.
He didn’t seem to move for a long time, and then his mother sniffled in the corner, and I saw the tears falling onto her clasped hands.
“I’m sorry.” I said to her, because it seemed to be the only thing I could say aloud.
Hazen had brought food, and though I wasn’t hungry I forced myself to eat, chewing the food that shifted around my mouth, feeling and tasting alien. My father never moved away, though he shifted so that his head leaned back up against my knees, and I continued to stroke his head. It was comforting to me, to be comforting someone else. Conversation was hard at first, nobody seemed to know what to say, but eventually Cale was able to lighten the atmosphere, and we all stayed comfortably cramped in my little room for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t say anything, only nodded yes or shook my head no, occasionally smiling where needed, though it was a strain. I talked to Hazen constantly though, about inconsequential things, finding his soft voice in my head a great comfort. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t hard to figure out why I had chosen Hazen to bond with. He knew what I was feeling, without a doubt, and he felt it with me. He had no choice.
Hereditary Page 17