Disobedient (Rise of the Realms: Book Two)

by D. Fischer

  “But you preserved me, anyway. Why?”

  I yank my clothes from the hangers, choosing to ignore her, and begin getting dressed. It’s almost daylight outside, the morning sun rising and peeking through my blinds. I’m exhausted. My body may have rested for who knows how long, but my mind hasn’t. My shop is due to open, and I can’t afford to lose the income.

  “Where are you going?” she asks as I stomp past her, heading down the hall and into the living room.

  Slipping on my shoes, I eye her behind my disheveled, wet hair and tie the laces. “I’m running away. I hear Neverland is a good vacation destination. I might try there next since you know, technically, I’m hundreds of years older now. I believe I’m old enough to retire. Traveling to the past does that you know – ages you beyond your years. Maybe if I go to Neverland, I can be young forever.”

  My subconscious quirks a brow at my petty retort. We should talk, and I should get my answers. But right now, I can’t even look at the person who exposed me to such danger.

  I open my apartment door and descend the stairs, careful to not let my sarcasm cause me to miss a step. It wouldn’t do to exit an argument by a tumble down a flight of stairs.

  Tember follows me as I enter the shop, unlock the front door, and flip the sign to ‘open.’ People already mill about the streets, waking far earlier than I ever would have if I were on vacation. I suppose they must get their breakfast and caffeine fix from somewhere.

  Turning from the door, I march to the breakroom, my shoes padding against the wood floor in an even, irritated rhythm. Tember props herself against the doorway after I enter, watching me but remaining silent.

  I prepare the coffee and slam the pot into the machine, tapping on the button with a jabbing finger. I purse my lips, knocking my knees as I shake my legs, and my fingers drum along the counter. The tension is thick in the air. Neverland is sounding better and better as the morning progresses.

  She clears her throat, and I prepare myself for the motherly instincts and unwanted advice she loves to bestow upon me. “I was trying to gain answers, Kat.”

  My nostrils flare. “Yeah?” I ask, sarcasm thick, dripping from my curled top lip. “Answers for who? You or Erma? Should we throw Erline into the mix?” I grab a mug from the open cupboard, busying my hands.

  “Perhaps both,” Tember whispers, her eyebrows pulled down. “I needed to know why Erline brought back her daughter. Why she inserted the dragon into you. Why she hid her daughter’s soul. . .”

  I spin to face her, my eyes narrow. “I know this isn’t familiar to you, to feel love and the desire to protect them, but maybe, just maybe, she did it to bring back a sliver of her daughter.” I don’t know why I’m defending Erline. Maybe for the sake of keeping the argument flowing? I’m on the defensive with whatever pops out of Tember’s untrustworthy mouth.

  Tember’s eyes roam my face. “You care for Myla, don’t you?”

  “Of course I did!” I shout. “She was more to me than someone who shared my thoughts and drove half my actions.”

  She bites the inside of her bottom lip. “Did? Past tense?”

  Sighing, I close my eyes, turn, and rest the curve of my back against the counter. “She’s dead.”

  Her arms drop to her sides, shock replacing the tension. “How?”

  “The last time I went into the dream, I merged with it as did Myla. We both had full control and corporality of our bodies. They hung her for her crimes, just as in the past, but she was there. She was there. It was her they hung this time, not her past self.”

  “You’re still a dragon,” Tember points out.

  I roll my eyes. “I prefer ‘scaled warrior.’ She left me a piece of her. Actually . . . a lot of her. It’s what those who love another do.”

  Tember remains quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

  I chuckle a humorless laugh, filling my mug with a delicious dark brew. “You should be. How’d you do it?”

  “The sandman?” she asks. I nod my head, and she readjusts her position against the doorframe, her throat constricting as she swallows her palpable guilt. “I asked for his assistance – to make you dream of Myla’s past since you two were one and the same.”

  I take a scalding sip of coffee, grimacing as it travels over my tongue. “And Sureen? How does she fit into this?”

  “She discovered what the Sandman and I were doing. She put a spell on you and took her sandman.”

  “And the sandman? What consequences does he have for aiding you in your quest of absolute stupidity?”

  Tember rakes a hand through her hair, her fingers pulling on the curls. “Eternal punishment in the death realm.”

  “Spectacular,” I spit, grasping the mug with both hands. “You made a deal with Sureen, who placed me in the past, forced Myla to be killed again, and what? What was the tie breaker? What deal did you have to make?”

  “Erline and Erma,” she licks her bottom lip. “They gave her the ability to create life. They allowed her to temporarily tie herself to them so that she could draw their power.”

  “Hm. A fee gas pump.” I close my eyes, bite my bottom lip, and shake my head. A hysterical chuckle bursts past my front teeth. “Angel of the year goes to – “

  “Kat?” Tember mumbles, cutting me off.

  “What?” I bark.

  “There’s more.”

  My eyelids feel heavy, and my blinks feel gritty. I take the heel of my hand and rub my left eye. “Do tell.”

  “Erline is using you for a power struggle. We’ve been made aware that you’re her chosen weapon.”

  Popping my lips, I mumble. “Aren’t you all?” I don’t have it in me to care anymore. My emotions are spent, my exhaustion is overbearing, and my nerves are raw.

  “That’s not all,” she sighs. “Sureen and Corbin have been collaborating together. For what, I’m not sure. Sureen has been given the power to create life, Kat. Surely the two have something planned – “

  I cut her off, rubbing my hand down my face. This is too much to handle at once. I am not the solver of all problems. “How long have I been gone? Asleep?”

  “A few days.”

  Animosity swells within my chest, and I take a hot sip, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand. It does nothing to distract my mind and the dark thoughts swirling within. I’m nothing but a fly to them, easy to swat away and perfect for cleaning up messes.

  The one who started this all, the one who took me from my nice and quiet exiled life, stands not feet from me. She has the nerve to make their problems my problems. She’s trying so hard to be innocent, so hard to get me to see reason, by relaying information that deflects her own actions.

  My straying gaze drops to the floor, eyeing the many crumbles of dried dirt I have yet to sweep away. I bend and gather a pinch.

  “What are you doing?” Tember asks, wary. I ignore her while I debate her very near future. Licking my bottom lip, I come to an easy, yet merciful conclusion and create a portal in record time. I ignore her murderous eyes, and I flick my wrist, sending her through. The smile that lifts my cheeks is one of glee as I hear her growl fade while her body transports to another realm. It feels good to have an unlimited, untapped power. I frown, lift my mug to my mouth, and take another sip. Maybe too good.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DYSON COLEMAN

  DEATH REALM

  For the past . . . I don’t even know how long . . . Gan has been chirping like a bird, unevenly tuned and sporadic. The longer he does it, the more it sounds like a dying bird. Maybe that means he’ll eventually stop . . . and the bird will be dead forever… right?

  I need sleep. Humans need sleep. This can’t carry on for much longer. If it does, I’ll end up chirping along with him, crazy-eyed and google brained. We’d be two peas in a pod, and then –

  I smack the side of my head in an attempt to tap out the crazy stirring within.

  “Bodily harm will do you no good,” Sandy murmurs as he rests his head within his cell.


  I shush him, the noise obnoxious and exaggerated. “Can you let me go crazy in peace, please? Is it too much to ask?”

  I’ve tried covering my ears once, but the rebounding chirp bounces within the cells. It doesn’t end before he begins again. The sound penetrates through the skin of my hands, determined to drive me to the brink of what’s left of my sanity. I’d take the dripping noise over this any day. I can’t even hear the leak splattering against the cell bars before sliding off and thumping against the floor. This obnoxious noise is that consuming.

  “Think they’ll give me a muffin to shove in his mouth?” I ask Sandy, pointing to a vampire traveling by, going deeper into the cells. “If Gan comes a little closer, I could grab him. If I can grab him, we could gag him. If we gag him – “

  “There will be no gagging,” he interrupts.

  The light from the vampire’s torch is whisked away once he rounds the corner, leaving us back in the dark. At least we have Sandy’s eyes to give us some sort of light.

  I open my mouth to retort, but three more vampires travel down the tunnel, slowing for the same corner, before they disappear, following one another. I frown when more arrive in the same fashion, standing once I hear screams deeper in the cells.

  “What’s happening?” I ask, slinking to the edge of my cell.

  Sandy stands, coming to the corner, wedging himself between bars without touching them to get a better look. “I am not sure,” he whispers, questions forming on his own tongue.

  Hissing and shouts, growls and pleas. Goosebumps raise over my skin, and the breath leaving my flared nostrils is heavy. I wait for the cause, preparing myself for what’s to come.

  Instead of blurring in their usual speed, a new vampire leisurely pads down the tunnel, torch in hand, followed by two more.

  “What’s going on?” I ask them.

  They approach Gan’s cell first. Choosing to ignore my question, they slide a key in the hole and unlock his cell. Gan shouts and giggles as they shackle his wrists and hoist him from the floor.

  “Yaris, what about the wolf and sandman?” one asks the vampire standing outside Gan’s cell.

  He turns to me but speaks to them. “He will put up a fight,” he surmises, pursing his lips. “Drain some of his blood first. Then take them both. Kheelan wants all prisoners at the Colosseum.”

  I back away from the bars, my bare heel catching against the cracks of an uneven floor. My nostrils flare, and despite the cold, my body begins to sweat. The lock to my cell unlatches, and my back hits the wall behind me.

  “No,” I mumble, hearing the squeal of the metal hinges. “No.”

  I don’t see them coming, their blurs faster than the minimal light Sandy’s eyes provide. Their luminosity is swallowed by the dark, pitch-black dungeon. The vampires are snakes striking a blind, misplaced foot, and I’m helpless to defend.

  My upper torso is wrapped, constricted by strong arms - vices of impending death. They reek of corpses, of rotting decay. Fear grips my heart, and my eyes widen like a frightened deer, glowing green. My wolf surfaces to defend while my fear holds me captive. I mentally slide aside, allowing him the forefront of my mind. He wastes no time, roaring inside me as he pushes through. Our lives are on the line.

  My bones begin to crack, pop, and reshape to that of my wolf. The fingers claw at the vampires’ arms, digging into their flesh, my nails now claws. Fur sprouts over my skin, pricking the pores as it pokes through. I tip my head back, a growl ripping from my throat, a threat from my wolf. I’m almost there. My wolf is almost there.

  But he’s too late . . .

  Teeth clamp on both sides of my neck, cutting through the skin and hitting veins. It’s all too easy, all too victorious, and I, too weak. Their teeth bruise my skin, puncturing through with a pop. The fangs slide across the large veins, lighting my nerves with intense agony. I feel the pull when the vampires suckle, hear the sickening sound of slurps. The blood leaves my body, flowing through the open wounds into the mouths of thirsty sharks. It weakens me, and I struggle against them with everything I have. My wolf continues to transform, to fight for himself, to fight for me.

  Too much blood is lost, his fight fading, and blessed darkness takes us.

  KATRIANE DUPONT

  EARTH REALM

  A black area with no walls encases me. The feeling is eerie like I could fall off and float into nothing for the rest of eternity. That’s what this place is – nothing. It’s a bridge between minds, held within a dream, where no senses exist.

  Though I conjured this place with a purpose, it doesn’t mean I hold no fear. Everything frightens me these days. I’m capable of the unimaginable, but I can no longer go without the help of someone I trust most – someone who’s bound to love me unconditionally . . . I hope.

  In front of me are two chairs, wooden and antique, facing one another. I cross my legs, stuffing my ankles under my thighs, and close my eyes.

  “Janine,” I whisper to the black abyss. The words leave my lips, too deep to be my normal tone, like the song of a whale as it reverberates under the water. The pressure changes in the atmosphere, thick and heavy. I fight to breathe normally, to calm my panic. I’ve never conjured a psychic before.

  In slow transparency, the woman I remember oh so well, enhances to solidity. Her long brunette hair flows as she turns her head, and her chocolate eyes roam our surroundings, confused yet frightened. Her boney fingers grip the wooden seat of her chair, the knuckles white.

  “Mom,” I whisper. Her head snaps to me.

  I’ve been longing to speak to her, to hear her words of wisdom that I’ve missed. The warmth in her tone, the twinkle of love in her eyes, I ache for it. I ache for her . . . for the comfort of a mother.

  “Katriane?” She blinks, her voice in awe. Her head swivels once more, taking in the pitch black. “How – How did you do this?”

  I uncross my legs and lean forward, situating my elbows on my knees. I wipe a hand down my face. “I have no idea.”

  She turns her attention back to me, slow and calculating, her brows pinched. “Is this a dream?”

  I blow out a breath. “Yeah.”

  “But how?” Tilting her head, her eyes roam my length. She reaches forward, before thinking better of it, and pulls back, gripping the seat once more. It’s as if she thinks she’ll fly from the chair if she doesn’t have good purchase.

  “You look well, mom,” I murmur. She does – the last time I saw her, precisely after I saved her, she was practically on her death bed.

  When she doesn’t answer me, I reach, my hand running down her arm past her elbow and to her wrist. I grasp her fingers and tug gently, pulling them from the chair. I fold her fingers in mine. “I – ah -. Mom, I need advice.”

  She visibly droops, her face softening. “Katriane, we shouldn’t be talking. You’ve been banned from the coven. Subconscious or not, this breaks the rules of your banishment.”

  “Will you just listen?” I ask between clenched teeth. I don’t know how long I can hold up this conjure. I can already feel myself draining.

  Chewing on the inside of her lip, she contemplates. “Proceed,” she demands, sweeping her free hand out.

  “I don’t know what to do.” My shoulders sag. “I believe I was brought back for the wrong reasons. I don’t know what I am, I don’t know who I am, and I don’t know what all I’m capable of.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “There’s war between light and dark inside me.” I place a hand on my chest.

  “There’s a war between light and dark within the realms,” she sighs, taking her hand from mine. “This is what I warned you of, Katriane.”

  “What?” I ask, looking at her hand as she folds her hands in her lap.

  “The beast.” She nods to me but more through me. “It’s untamable. It’s an addiction. The first born is too strong for one body to hold and one fee to try and control.”

  “Right.” I scrape my hand down my face again, steeling myself to break the news. “Myla’s de
ad.”

  My mom closes her eyes, cursing in French. “There’s no place for the twice dead.”

  “I know,” I murmur.

  She opens her eyes, her jaw ticking. “You have no idea what this will do. You now hold all the powers of the first born witch, of the dragon. They’ll come for you. They’ll use you. A war will come if it hasn’t already begun.”

  I exhale, slouching in my chair and glancing away. “This much I’ve learned already.”

  Picking up the hand within her lap, she shakes a finger at me. “Do not be cocky, daughter. The realms have already shifted – the entire coven felt it.” She takes a calming breath and speaks to me in a stern, hushed tone. “You have no idea the power of the fee.”

  We stare at one another, paused in silence. “So, what do I do?”

  Her answer is swift as if she’s already thought this all through. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knows more than she leads me to believe. Psychics tend to do that – to withhold information in hopes of not changing the future. “You steer clear of them. You flee. You hide. You don’t show them what you’re capable of.”

  I lick my bottom lip. “I can’t.”

  “And why not?” She crosses her arms. Tired of the questioning, she slips into her visions, her eyes rolling into the back of her head until all I see is the whites. It doesn’t take long, seconds maybe, before her eyes return to mine, scornful and malicious. Her cheeks burn a bright red. “Katriane Dupont . . . you challenged not one fee but four?”

  I square my shoulders. “I did. Did you see it all?”

  “Yes,” she hisses, her nostrils flared. “Do you have any idea the target you’ve painted on your back? The consequences of your disobedience? You showed them a taste of what you can do. They’ll come for you. All of them. They’ll want you for themselves.” She pauses, her jaw snapping. “You’ve painted a target on all of the earth realm just by being here.”

  My lips firm, the fire curling within my stomach. “I didn’t call you here to be chastised. I called you for help, for advice.”