by Regine Abel
I tore myself away from Esmeralda and stumbled a few steps back before falling to my knees. A constant stream of energy poured out of her and flowed into me. My body craved it, wanted more of it… wanted ALL of it. But my hump felt on the verge of bursting open. Palms resting on the ground, head hanging low, I gritted my teeth through the pain of searing hot blades stabbing at my spine.
“Kwazeem?” Esmeralda asked in a shaky voice filled with concern.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her fumble with her chest bandeau to cover herself while rushing to my side.
No! No! Don’t approach me.
Which each step, the intensity of the power within grew and with it, the agony robbing me of coherent thoughts. Her warm palm settling on my shoulder in what should have been a comforting gesture felt like vicious claws slashing me to the bone. I cried out and instinctively batted her hand away with far more force than intended. She yelped and cradled her wrist to her chest. The debilitating pain in my back kept me from expressing the guilt and horror I felt at having physically hurt her in any way.
“You’re doing this. Move away!” were the words that tumbled out of my mouth instead of the apology I’d intended. “Get away from me.”
“But—”
“GO AWAY! LEAVE! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE!”
My vocal chords hurt having shouted so loud. Esmeralda’s choked sob, followed by her quickly fading steps barely registered through the fog of misery that had engulfed me. Although the ball of power she’d fed into me had finally stopped growing with her departure, it pulsated strong and bright like a glowing sun in my chest. Each pulsating sensation renewed and enhanced the stabbing pain in my hump. Through blurred vision, I watched my hands swell at an exponential rate, and purplish blotches appear on my bluish-grey skin.
The last thing I saw before my eyelids swelled, forcing my eyes closed, was the worried face of Victus landing in front of me.
Chapter 8
Esmeralda
I needed answers. And, more importantly, I needed to help Kwazeem. Things had started out so perfect before he went completely berserk on me.
I’d never felt more hurt and more rejected than in that instant. For the few hours that followed, I’d remained curled up on my bed, feeling dirty and lower than dirt, thinking he’d cast me aside for being too easy, or for having lost interest now that he’d gotten what he’d wanted. What a stupid reaction on my part. Clearly, Kwazeem had been in pain, but my mind had remained stuck on his words, ordering me to leave the minute I’d climaxed.
It took me far too long to get my head straight and see that situation for what it had been; his condition suddenly manifesting itself. Then again, I was feeling emotionally drained. Ellen’s words replayed in my mind while I attempted to decide what to do. I’d been too lost first in pleasure and then in hurt to rationalize what had happened. Now, with my head clear, I remembered the way his hump appeared to grow and heave, stretching the shirt that had previously sat loosely across his shoulders. His hands, clutching the ground, had appeared swollen with patches of redness. But, through all that, and from the very moment Kwazeem had begun kissing me, a flow of energy had formed between us. No… not a flow. My energy had been flowing towards him.
And yet, just like in the chapel during my first Chant here, my power had felt enhanced, stronger than ever before. At the same time my Light had flown into him, his aura had fueled me, replenishing it in a continuous cycle of give and take. I couldn’t dismiss Ellen’s words that a Fallen would drain me of my Vestal power. But what had happened didn’t align with what she said.
A quick look at the clock indicated it was already a little after two in the afternoon. Jumping out of bed, I splashed some water on my face and swiftly changed into clothes better suited for hiking. There was enough time for me to catch a shuttle to and from the Godswood before nightfall.
But first, I needed to check on Kwazeem.
More grateful than ever that there was no rehearsal today, and that both Frollo and the Light Maidens were absent, I snuck back to the hidden passage, keeping my power in check so that he couldn’t sense my approach. Finding his house empty worried me. I hastened down the path to the river, stopping a far distance away as soon as I noticed his silhouette sitting on the ground by the tree, the remains of our picnic carefully tucked back into the basket. Although I couldn’t clearly see from where I stood, Kwazeem appeared to be cradling the costume I had brought him to his chest. I couldn’t tell if the pained expression on his face stemmed from his condition or from whatever thoughts tormented him. However, watching him pet his imps reassured me he wasn’t in any physical distress.
For a moment, I considered approaching him again, but decided against it. I wasn’t sure if he would welcome my presence just now, and I wouldn’t know what to say. Turning on my heels, I made a beeline for the public transport hub at the edge of the open market. Naturally, I stood out in the crowd despite my common outfit. Vestals rarely traveled amidst the common folk, using instead the Chariot of Light or private transportation provided by the Praetor.
However, I didn’t want to alert Frollo as to my whereabouts. Using either of the latter methods would have required a pilot taking me to my destination. While I had no intentions of hiding that visit from him, I couldn’t risk him preemptively warning Old Nan against telling me anything. Instead, I rented a Tear—Vesta’s Tear to be more precise. Shaped like a drop of water lying horizontally, Tears were private shuttles only big enough for two passengers and a small cargo at the back. It traveled great distances at high speed, purely relying on either solar or Vestal energy. Despite the disturbing name for a vehicle, Tears had proven themselves beyond safe even in heavily trafficked areas. Thanks to their advanced GPS system and autopilot ability, the small vessels could be dropped anywhere on the planet, and it could autopilot itself back to the closest Tear hangar.
No one would question me visiting Old Nan’s Trading Post. In fact, it featured in the list of preset popular shopping destinations on the Tear’s interface. I barely paid any attention to the beautiful landscape sprawling before me under the bright, early-afternoon sun. In the distance, the weak luminous beams of two spires marked the center of smaller cities surrounding Paris. In two days, after the Festival of Light, Frollo would visit each one to give them a recharged Orb—assuming I performed as expected.
And he’d hope for you to tag along with him.
That wouldn’t happen. Even if nothing came of that thing between Kwazeem and me, I could never belong to Frollo. I barely knew the gardener, and yet something unique was binding us. I’d spent my life dreaming of the day I’d stand before an Elohim, hoping to find grace in his eyes. The day after tomorrow, I would meet the greatest of them all, High Seraph Phoebus, but I couldn’t care less. A single male occupied my every thought.
As the autopilot landed my Tear in the small clearing surrounding Old Nan’s Trading Post, I was relieved to see only three other vessels. With the Festival only a few hours away, most people were too busy scrambling with last minute preparations to be out shopping. But what struck me the most were the eerie similarities between the lines and shapes of this Trading Post and those of Kwazeem’s house. Although not identical, Kwazeem had clearly been inspired by the home of his childhood.
The door of the Tear silently slid open, and I hopped out, my stomach fluttering with an odd mix of anticipation and worry. What if Nan didn’t wish to speak to me or pretended she didn’t know anything about Kwazeem? It suddenly dawned on me how impulsive I’d yet again behaved. What in the world was wrong with me? I’d always been the deliberate, organized, and rational one among my Vestal sisters. And now, I kept reacting based on whatever emotion stirred me the most. Considering how all over the place they’d been since setting foot on Eden, I should try harder to rein myself in.
But I’m here now, and I need answers.
Taking in a deep breath, I marched with determined steps towards the one story house. Built in length, with tall, reflect
ive windows and flowery vines climbing some of its walls, the wooden structure had been cleverly designed to almost blend with the surrounding forest. As I walked up to the large set of doors, they swished open almost silently onto a modern shop that still managed to scream rustic and natural.
The sweet aroma of potpourri and scented candles greeted me. To my surprise, the front store wasn’t crumbling under stacks of products or shopping baskets. Customers picked up a small data key at the entrance of the store and simply scanned the demonstrator of the products they wanted, with a small interface allowing them to indicate quantity. I picked up a key while casting furtive glances at the two women behind the counter.
A younger female in her late thirties was taking the keys from the customers and fetching their orders at the back. The older female, which I immediately knew to be Old Nan, took payments from the customer or haggled the trades that didn’t involve credits. Trying not to draw more attention than necessary, I casually browsed the goods on offering, scanning quite a few of the jars of fruit jams for Kwazeem. Two of the five customers inside left, and I crossed my fingers that no new ones would come in before the remaining three departed.
I was looking at a series of stunning colorful fabrics the likes I’d never seen before when a painting on a nearby wall caught my eye. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the image of a gorgeous little boy with pale bluish-skin. Sitting cross-legged by a creek, he stared in awe at the large egg in his hands from whence the head of a newborn imp, in the process of hatching, peeked out. I immediately knew it to be a lifelike representation of Kwazeem and Victus.
I don’t know how long I stood there, transfixed by the realism and perfection of the image.
“Stunning boy, isn’t he?” a soft voice said over my shoulder, startling me out of my dazed stupor.
I turned to find Old Nan standing near me, a gentle expression on her wizened face. I couldn’t quite tell her origins judging by her thick, curly silver hair, tanned skin from frequent exposure to the sun, and her big, greenish-brown eyes that hinted at possible alien blood thrown into her human heritage.
“Breathtaking… Just like the man Kwazeem has grown into,” I replied, my gaze holding hers unwaveringly.
She didn’t flinch, recoil, or otherwise appear shocked. A knowing smile stretched her lips, and she gestured with her head for me to follow. Heart pounding, I followed in her wake under the curious stares of the remaining customer and the younger woman working behind the counter.
“Cover for me, Karolyn,” Nan said. “I’ll be at the house for a little while.”
“Yes, Nan,” Karolyn responded, her brown eyes burning with curiosity.
We exited the Trading Post through the back door, then walked in silence along a packed dirt path through the woods to a smaller house two hundred meters away. My jaw dropped at recognizing it as an exact replica of Kwazeem’s house, while the Trading Post only shared many similarities.
“You recognized this house,” Nan said, breaking the silence as she unlocked the door to her house.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Kwazeem is currently building his new home identically to this one.”
Nan smiled like a proud mother before waving me into the house. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating the cushioned wooden chairs surrounding a massive, intricately carved redwood table. “I cannot grant you much time, but I would hear about my Kwazeem before answering a few of whatever questions you may have. Tea?”
I nodded absentmindedly, suddenly feeling as if she’d been waiting for me—or at least for some Vestal—to come see her about Kwazeem.
“Yes, I knew one of you would eventually come,” Nan said. She chuckled when I gaped at her for reading my mind, but continued to put some water to boiling. “Don’t be so surprised, child. Your face is very expressive. Many of your sisters have come through here over the years. Each time, I hoped they were coming to inquire about my boy. But every time, they were merely here to browse my products. You, however… The minute you walked in, I knew that the day had come at last.”
Nan brought two cups and some berry breads to the table, while the water was quickly heating. I opened my mouth to offer to help, but she didn’t give me a chance.
“Do you love him?” she asked.
My heart leaped in my chest, and I squirmed in my chair, unsure how to answer.
“I… I barely know him,” I said cautiously.
“But?” she insisted before pouring the boiling water into a teapot.
“But I am very drawn to him, and he to me,” I conceded. “However, I am a very public figure, and—”
“And the mob will descend upon him for defiling an Anointed,” Nan interrupted, her voice hardening slightly. “Tell me child, does he drain you?”
I hesitated, unsure how to answer truthfully. “Until today, no. And even today, not really. Or at least, I’m not sure what to make of it. Before, his presence always only enhanced my power, and I mean significantly enhanced it. But this morning, I felt as if he was absorbing my Light, but also replenishing it. I only felt emotionally drained, not physically, and not my power,” I quickly added, feeling the need to protect him somehow.
Nan smiled, making my cheeks heat.
“Even without the townsfolk opposing any potential relationship between Kwazeem and me, I fear our natures might not be compatible,” I said, hoping she would be able to shed some light on some of the questions haunting me. “Ellen, one of the open market merchants, said a Fallen will permanently drain a Vestal of her powers. Is this what is happening with Kwazeem?”
Nan took a moment to reflect on her answer, choosing her words carefully as she poured us both a cup of tea.
“It is true that, since the Fall, the Light Bearers involuntarily drain the Vestals of their Divine Light when exposed long enough to them,” the older lady said, settling at the table across from me. She held the steamy cup of tea in her hands as if to warm them, her gaze lingering on the amber liquid it contained. “But Kwazeem isn’t a pureblood Fallen. He’s special. His mother had to live isolated from her tribe because the other Fallen were passively harming the child.”
“Passively?” I asked, confused.
“The same way humans cannot tolerate extended exposure to an Elohim’s aura before starting to manifest symptoms similar to radiation poisoning, the Fallen’s aura threatened to kill Kwazeem,” Nan said before taking a sip of her tea, her eyes staring blindly in the distance as she reminisced. “Which each passing month of her pregnancy, the farther she had to be from her people. When the time came to deliver, she was alone. With complications kicking in, she called her clan, but they couldn’t approach without killing the child. So, one of her clanmates named Mikku came to ask me for help. But I arrived there too late.” Nan refocused on me, a sad look on her face. “She was so young and so beautiful… She died minutes after naming her son and making me promise to look after him.”
My throat tightened at imagining the terrified young woman trying to bring a new life into this world, all by herself. And, worse still, handing the child she would never get to see grow into a man off to a complete stranger.
“I don’t understand. Why did she stay with the tribe?” I asked. “Even if she’d been shunned for consorting with a Fallen, and despite losing her powers, she was still a Vestal. By law, the doctors in Paris would have been obligated to assist her and the baby.”
“She wasn’t a Vestal,” Nan deadpanned before taking another sip of her tea.
I gaped at her, totally taken aback by that statement. Considering the strong power I felt within Kwazeem, I’d naturally assumed his mother had been a high-ranking Vestal.
“Kwazeem’s mother was a Fallen name Caleeza,” Nan continued. “She never would have been allowed close enough to the city to receive treatment. And bringing a doctor here would have probably gotten us both in trouble.” Nan sighed heavily and ran a hand through her silver mane. “I don’t know who his father was, but he must have been a powerful ergokinetic. Caleez
a said he must have died or he would have returned to her and their unborn child.”
Would he?
Nan chuckled, and my cheeks heated as my expressive face had no doubt given away my thoughts.
“I’ve wondered, too,” Nan admitted. “He wouldn’t have been the first man to have tried to ‘score’ a Fallen female. But I fear we’ll never know. I love the boy as my own. He was such a good kid. So full of energy, but always affectionate and obedient. When his condition first manifested, I thought we would manage. He’d been so great adapting to his hump, not letting it interfere with his day-to-day life. And then it got worse, and worse, and even worse.”
Nan let out a shuddering breath, her gaze haunted by the souvenir of helplessly watching ‘her child’ in agony. I instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand in a comforting gesture. Her fingers tightened around it, and she gave me a shaky smile of gratitude.
“I was so desperate I went to a Fallen village and barely got away with my life. But Mikku, the male who had come to ask me to help Caleeza, remembered me,” Nan continued. “He accepted my request to come see her son, but once more, Kwazeem went into seizures when Mikku came too close. The blood samples I gave him to analyze revealed nothing helpful. I was preparing mentally for my boy to die, dosing him with poppy milk in the hopes of easing his remaining days. And then Frollo showed up at my shop.”
I straightened in my chair, listening with anticipation at what might provide me with the answers I sought.
“He had come in like any other customer, although he’d been particularly interested in medicinal herbs and meditation oils and candles,” Nan said, an odd expression on her face. “Moments after he entered, he started looking around with a confused look, as if searching for something, although he mostly stared at the back of the store. I eventually asked him what was wrong, and he asked if there was a Vestal in here.”