Ashes of Iris

by Stephanie Poscente

  “Sorry,” she muttered, her face flushing as she spoke the word.

  He did not respond, and for a moment they were left in silence, until Sophie turned back and looked at him with apologetic eyes. With a small smile, he shook his head, looking toward the castle.

  “I want to do it tonight,” she said, her voice low. “I told the others I would help them tomorrow, but what they want is not right. I don't trust them.”

  His eyes flicked back to her face in shock.

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Nothing, really,” she shook her head. “I just saw the hunger for revenge in their eyes. I don't want to be a part of that. If I can somehow speak to her and get her to lift your curse, that's all I care about. Their battle is not my battle.”

  “Nor is mine,” Lukas said, but his eyes were gentle.

  “I want to help you,” she looked away. “I want you to be free of this.”

  His feet moved silently against the forest floor as he stepped toward her, and she felt his hands brush her arms, a tingling shock running over her skin at the connection. When he was only inches away, her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. The scent of his hair and his skin lingered around her, but it was his voice that made her muscles turn to liquid.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “Long years I have been waiting, though I could never have expected anything like this. You have a power that even Ziva would marvel at,” he chuckled. “Aggie believes you were sent to tame my anger, to teach me humility.”

  Sophie balked at his words.

  “I don't have any power,” she said. “And, if you haven’t noticed, I’m no good at controlling my own anger anymore. Besides, there's still a lot for me to do, so don't get your hopes up.”

  “You are stronger than you believe,” he answered.

  “Lukas,” she whispered, allowing the vulnerability to saturate her voice. “I'm afraid.”

  He squeezed her arms, pulling her into an embrace. His breath rustled her hair as he spoke, and she relished in the comfort that came from his arms wrapped around her.

  “Trust in your ability,” he said. “If you believe it is possible, it will be possible.”

  “What will happen to you, if she lifts the curse?”

  She felt him shrug but did not pull away to look at his face.

  “That,” he said quietly, “is a mystery.”

  “Will you die?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Turning her head so that her face was pressed into his chest, she inhaled the scent of him into her lungs.

  “I don't want you to die,” she mumbled. The memory of speaking those same words to her uncle, only days before she lost him forever, surfaced, and she heard the echo of his deep laugh and the words he had said.

  I don't want you to want me to die.

  “Sophie,” Lukas whispered, but she pushed away from him, straightening her dress and blinking back the tears.

  “I'm going to find her, sometime tonight,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. Lukas gazed at her for a moment before nodding his head. “Be ready,” she added, “for anything.”

  “Be strong,” he replied, watching her turn her back. When she stepped through the trees, the sunlight bouncing from her dark hair, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Be careful.”

  Chapter 16

  “What a wonderful night,” Aunt Marilyn sighed, leaning back into her chair.

  Sophie folded her hands on the table, her eyes stuck on the flickering candle floating in the wide basin of the centerpiece. The white tablecloth was splattered with red wine and bits of the four course dinner they had enjoyed throughout the night.

  Jude stretched his arms over his head, letting out a low groan.

  “It's starting to clear out,” he said quietly, nudging Sophie with his elbow. “How're you holding up?”

  “Hm?” she murmured, her mind foggy as she stared, unfocused, at the light of the flame.

  Aunt Marilyn snorted with laughter, her half-full wine glass teetering on the table.

  “Earth to Sophie,” she said, leaning toward her niece with a smile. “Had too much wine, have you?”

  “Just thinking,” she murmured.

  The truth was, she was preoccupied with the anticipation of what was to come. The flame kept her mind calm, soothing her senses, and giving her the relaxation she needed to keep focused. Jude nudged her again, and she looked up at him, her eyes still glossy and unfocused. Before he had a chance to question her, Wilton sauntered over, a glass of wine in hand and a smile on his face.

  “What a party,” he exclaimed, taking a seat beside Aunt Marilyn and raising his glass in a toast before emptying the remainders. “Good kids, those two. Beautiful couple.”

  “They are, aren't they,” Aunt Marilyn answered. “They will have a happy life together, I'm sure of it.”

  “Yes,” he nodded, “I agree.”

  Sophie watched her aunt sneak glances at the man beside her. A smile crossed her face as she thought of the potential, but she quickly snuffed it out, her uncle's face in her mind. Her aunt was not ready, she told herself. She must be imagining the chemistry between them.

  Glancing at his watch, Jude gave one more stretch and rose to his feet.

  “Leaving so soon?” Aunt Marilyn said, her eyes wide. She gave Sophie a meaningful stare. With the knowledge of her upcoming betrayal, Sophie was hesitant to follow Jude to the door. Another nudge from her aunt, however, got her up from her chair and through the hall door.

  “You're very quiet tonight,” he said, letting her catch up as he strode through the corridor.

  “I have a lot to think about,” she answered.

  She had decided to keep her answers short, believing the less she said, the less likely she would be to arouse suspicion.

  “Yes, I suppose you do,” he mused, letting her lead the way down the winding stairway at the far end of the castle. “Any thoughts you would like to share?”

  “Not particularly,” she said quietly.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

  “Have you forgiven me for deceiving you?”

  “You mean for assaulting and abusing me? No,” her voice was sharp, the nerve of his question making her seethe.

  As they rounded the final corner that would lead them into the front hall, he sighed.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I hope you know that. It was purely for the sake of the quest.”

  “The quest?” she repeated.

  “It may sound comical to you, but it is a very serious matter to me. This spirit stole my mother.”

  A twinge of guilt threatened to break Sophie's carefully constructed facade, but she managed to get through the doorway without another word. He followed her into the room, watching as she sat to remove her shoes and massage her sore feet. After a quiet moment, he asked to shower and she nodded, trying to keep her skittish nerves from showing.

  When she heard the water turn on, she threw on her worn sandals and turned to leave.

  It's now or never, she thought.

  As she hurried through the halls, unsure of where to begin, her mind slowed, the impending task becoming surprisingly clear to her. Though she was still fearful of the witch and her power, she knew the outcome of her efforts would be dependent upon her ability to remain calm and focused, even in the face of something she could not possibly understand.

  “Sophie,” a voice called from behind her. The sound of it made her heart lighten.

  She turned, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face.

  “Rausch,” she said. “You're just in time.”

  “Time?” he asked, striding toward her from his perch on a deep windowsill. “You cannot mean-”

  “I'm going,” she said simply.

  His eyes widened at the words and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then, he approached her with one hand raised.

  “I will aid you,” he said quietly. “No matter what the cost.
”

  Too tired to argue, Sophie nodded.

  “I need somewhere quiet,” she said. “Secluded. Somewhere I know, no matter what, we won't be found.”

  As she spoke, the memory of the room in the turret flashed in her mind. Piles upon piles of dust-covered ornaments, books and furniture swam before her eyes and she tottered on the spot, amazed at her own stupidity.

  “Of course,” she whispered.

  Her first encounter with the witch had been in that room and something within her approved of the idea that their final meeting should be there as well. Before Rausch had a moment to speak, she was off in the direction of the conservatory. His footsteps echoed from the walls as he struggled to keep up with her.

  As she ran, her thoughts flitted between what she would say, if she could say anything at all, and what would happen if she found a way to break the curse. The option of death for the ones that had recently become her friends was one she could not fathom to believe, but in her heart she knew it was a possibility. She heard Rausch's heavy breathing behind her and slowed, waiting for him to match her pace.

  “The tower,” he said as he hobbled alongside her. “Is that your destination?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “It's likely to be one of the only places where I won't be disturbed.”

  “Many things reside there,” he said, his voice low. “Are you certain it is the only place?”

  “What things?” she asked.

  Stopping short, she looked at him with her eyes narrowed. Her mind rejected the idea of more impossible entities lurking in the castle. He shook his head at the insinuation in her voice.

  “Not in that sense,” he said. “Stored in that room are Annka's belongings. I have taken great care to preserve them, and I fear a confrontation may result in their destruction. Could we not use my quarters?”

  “No,” she answered softly, shaking her head. “It's not secret.”

  “No one has disturbed me in many years,” he countered, but Sophie shook her head again, silently.

  Aunt Marilyn had been down that hidden corridor and she would not risk being caught, even in the dead of night.

  “It's the only way,” she said softly.

  With that, they entered the conservatory, its walls ensconced with towering plants and vines, and headed for the almost invisible crack in the wall. Before, Sophie had trespassed there only out of curiosity and she wished silently that her current venture was as innocent. When she had pushed the thick leaves of the potted bush from her path and squeezed through the tiny opening, a hand gripped her from behind and she let out a small squeak before being thrown against the hard stone stairs. Rausch called out in surprise, but her attacker had blocked the entrance and was looming over her, his blue eyes full of malice.

  “You dared to call me a liar,” Jude snarled. Sophie cringed at the depth of anger in his voice. His long hair was wet, and she could see the spots where water had soaked through his shirt on his shoulders and chest.

  “Wait, Jude, I can-”

  “I knew you would betray us,” he cut her off, answering the unfinished question. “From the moment you begged for more time in the church, I knew. You mean to destroy her on your own, leaving me nothing but regret.”

  “No,” Sophie held up a hand, but he slapped it away. The force of the contact left her fingers tingling and her skin reddened. “I only want to help the others,” she continued, “I don't care what you do with her then.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he said, his anger wavering. “There are none who lurk here worth helping. You called me a coward, but this is the ultimate cowardice. Why not stand up and fight for the living instead of wallowing with these cursed and dead?”

  “That is your fight,” she answered, pushing herself up, “not mine. I am only trying to help them, and nothing else.”

  When she turned to ascend, he seized her shoulder, his strong fingers digging into her collarbone and making her gasp in pain. Struggling to free herself from his grip, she spun around and pushed hard against his chest. He stumbled back, colliding with the stone wall behind. Rausch had only just entered the space, leaping to the side before Jude's body could crush him, and he rushed to Sophie's side.

  “Run,” he whispered, “go now, find her. I will keep him here as long as I am able.”

  Before she could argue, he turned back to Jude, who was rubbing his head and mumbling silent curses.

  “Go, Sophie,” he said again, just as Jude charged forward. Sophie watched with wide eyes as Rausch raised a hand, catching Jude by his left shoulder and sending him spinning to the floor.

  Jude spluttered in surprise, his eyes frantically searching the vicinity, glancing over Rausch without awareness of his presence.

  “Who is here?” he thundered, his eyes locking with Sophie's. “Where are you?”

  She did not answer, but turned and ran, taking the steps three at a time before reaching the landing and pushing hard on the thick wooden door. The cluttered room was entirely dark, save for the few slivers of moonlight that penetrated the narrow windows. With the sound of Jude colliding, once again, with the walls at the base of the stairs, Sophie shut the door behind her and held her breath, the darkness making her eyes strain and the silence pounding on her eardrums.

  She knew how to call the witch to her, but hesitated, fearful of the consequences. After a minute and when the scuffle at the base of the stairs had gone silent, she stepped forward.

  “Lukas,” she whispered, the name floating from her lips.

  The reaction was almost instantaneous. A flurry of pages to her right went soaring into the air as the rush of wind erupted around her. Gradually, the whispering she could hear only faintly beneath the whirling air grew louder. As the sound increased, so did the sensation of tightness around her chest and throat. Panic threatened to rear its head as she sucked in breaths, trying to inhale as deeply as possible to counter the crushing weight that had come to rest on her airway.

  “Z-Ziva,” she gasped, her struggles for breath becoming fruitless as tiny spots erupted in her vision. The name sounded foreign, her voice wavering and rasping as she spoke, but the choking sensation lessened almost imperceptibly.

  As she gulped mouthfuls of musty oxygen, Sophie forced her mind away from the pain and focused on forming words.

  “I n-need your h-help,” she wheezed, the effort of speaking making her throat ache.

  With those words, a formidable amount of pressure was released from her lungs and she doubled over in gratitude, the force of her breath causing a whistling in her throat. The flashes of white light in the corners of her eyes began to slow as she stood up, hands on her heaving chest, and she took a shaking step into the room.

  Her breath, though still constricted, slowed as she stood silently amongst the priceless clutter. The burst of wind had gone, leaving scattered papers over her path. If not for the remarkable tightness in her throat, Sophie may have wondered if the spirit still lingered in the room.

  Speak, her mind whispered, reminding her that, despite her fear, she had a promise to fulfill.

  “Please,” she said quietly, her voice still hoarse with effort, “I know what you've suffered through. I'm not here to harm you, I just need answers.”

  All remained silent. Briefly, Sophie thought of Aggie and Lukas, living together and communicating only by the use of pen and paper.

  “Is there any way you can communicate with me?” she asked, feeling hopeful.

  In an instant, the crushing pressure redoubled in strength and she clutched at her throat, her mind reaching for the only piece of information it could find and forcing it to be vocalized with the last remaining dredges of oxygen in her lungs.

  “I'm... we... family,” she choked.

  Her body felt as though it were being lifted from the ground, supported only by her throat and windpipe. As her vision blurred and her head swam, she sank to her knees on the floor. With one last burst of energy, one final attempt before succumbing to darkness, Sophie mus
tered every ounce of strength and breath within her and uttered a name she hoped would strike a chord with the witch, knowing that if it did not she may never wake from unconsciousness.

  “Grieg,” she breathed.

  The effect was instantaneous; all at once she could breathe and see. The unbearable weight had lifted from her chest and she leaned forward to put her hands on the floor in front of her. She sucked in a lungful of air and felt her skin begin to tingle. The sensation continued to build as she watched the room around her swim and vibrate, her eyes growing heavy and unfocused. Before long, her arms were shaking with the effort of keeping her body upright and she sank to the floor. Pressing a cheek into the coldness of the stones beneath her, Sophie closed her eyes.

  “What is happening?” she whispered, her tongue so heavy that she could barely form the words.

  “Your blood is mine,” a voice answered. The sound did not come from somewhere in the room, but from within her own mind, and she clenched her eyes shut at the volume that threatened to overwhelm every one of her senses. “Let me in. I repent. I will aid you. I will release them from that which binds them. Let me in.”

  Sophie could not answer, her consciousness was waning, but she tried to submit. Though the voice was not threatening – sounding vaguely like a mother would while coercing her child to greet a stranger – she could hear the strength in its volume and fought against the swimming blackness wading over her. Her strength failed as she lost her last grip on reality, reluctantly falling into the hollow of unconsciousness. The last words she heard, as though spoken through thick mud, made her yearn for control and feel a fleeting dread of what would come.

  “Trust me.”

  Chapter 17

  The walls were smooth and straight, the floor solid underfoot. The haze that plagued the air and stifled sound and light had vanished. Every inch of the surrounding room was crystal clear. The door swung silently at her touch and she watched the unfamiliar fingers as they pressed against the crumbling wood, a smile crossing her face. Each step was fulfilling, drawing her closer to freedom. Letting her fingers trace the inside wall as she navigated the winding stairway, she heard a quiet scuffle ahead.