Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery

by Ethington, Rebecca

  “By brutally murdering everyone in your path.”

  He shrugged. “That too.”

  “That is what you will have to do then,” I said, even though my heart was breaking. “Because I will not help you.”

  “Why do you still think you have a choice?” His breath fanned over my lips as he leaned in, his eyes bright even in the dark. “Years I have trained you. Molded you into what I want of you… and you are still—”

  “Stupid,” Cail finished for him. It was his favorite insult.

  “Exactly. I’m tired of these games, Ryland. You will do what I say, now.”

  “I will not—”

  I didn’t get to say anything more before his fist intersected with my gut again, doubling me over as I pulled against the chains. I tried to right myself, to stare him down in defiance, but I couldn’t move. His magic was moving into me, flooding me.

  The heat of his anger, of his power spread through every thread of muscle and every vein until it began to settle, right over my heart.

  A Vymȁzat. A brand of control.

  The magic was forbidden. Not like that had ever stopped him before.

  “No!” I yelled, focus going from one monster to another as my father’s magic began to pool in both heart and mind.

  Infiltrating me.

  Possessing me.

  “I will not be your puppet! I will not help you!”

  “You have no choice, Ryland, and trust me when I tell you that the more you fight me, the more of you I will take. Do what I say, or you will not be you anymore. Do you understand?”

  “I will fight you, you bastard! You can’t have her.” His magic was so strong now that I could barely see straight, barely think. Even my thoughts were beginning to twist into the nefarious hatred that ruled him as he took control.

  “But I can. You see, you gave her to me when you gave her your heart. I don’t have to find her. You are going to bring her right to me.”

  “No!”

  He punched me again, his second fist joining the first as his magic took over everything, smothering me.

  I couldn’t fight this, so I did the only thing I could, I pushed my magic into the thread that connected me to the necklace I had given Joclyn. I could feel her there, feel her heart, her fear.

  So close.

  So precious; and not just to me.

  I pressed my soul against the line, pushing my magic against it as I shielded the connection between us. As I held her precious warmth against me one last time.

  As I shielded her from the monster that was heading her way.

  Me.

  Twenty-Nine

  Joclyn

  The light was so bright I could see the veins in my eyelids. I opened my eyes, blinking furiously in an attempt to preempt a pain that never came. There was only a huge, white space with no doors, windows, or even walls that I could see—only an endless white.

  I sat up from where I lay motionless in the middle of the expanse, searching all around me for something familiar. There was nothing but white, white and a small stretch of faded black that grew and throbbed off in the distance. Something about the black called to me, just like the blackness that haunted me in my pained body.

  Pain.

  I jumped up, surprised when my body obeyed my commands. I had been trapped in a pain-filled, motionless prison, but now I swung my legs around in front of me, my movement quick as I slipped on fleece pajama pants I had never seen before. I looked down at them curiously, trying to place them, but they weren’t familiar at all. As I reached toward the pants, the long sleeve of Ryland’s hoodie slipped over my hand. Unknown pajama pants and Ryland’s hoodie; what odd things to be wearing in a dream.

  Was this a dream?

  I looked at my pants curiously, trying to think why my subconscious would place me in such odd clothing, and then I remembered Wyn holding me under the water. A flash of her tattooed face was all it took to incite panic in my chest. I gasped involuntarily, my chest heaving as though I still could not breathe.

  At my terror, a large comforting hand rested on my back. I turned toward the touch, expecting tattoos or long blonde hair… but it was Ryland sitting next to me, his dark curls falling over his forehead, his bright, blue eyes seeking into mine. That wasn’t right… how could Ryland be here? And, where was I?

  My heart skipped a beat at seeing him there, right next to me. He wore torn and stained jeans, but his chest was bare, his muscles defined and glistening as if he had just run a mile or two. I thought carefully over what to say, worried my hundreds of questions would topple over themselves in a jumble.

  “Am I dead?” I asked, my voice sounding perfectly fine despite the burn in my throat as I spoke.

  “No.” Ryland’s voice was low and comforting.

  “Are you dead?”

  “Anything but.”

  “So I am dreaming?”

  “No.” His answer was confident; it caught me off guard as the question was mostly rhetorical.

  “Then, where are we?” I could hear the desperate panic creeping into my voice.

  Ryland leaned forward and moved my hair away from my face, letting his fingertips linger on the skin of my jaw.

  “I think it’s some form of shared consciousness,” he whispered.

  “I don’t understand.” This seemed more like a dream than anything else. It felt like a dream. It looked like a dream. Even through Ryland’s confident answer, I still felt like I knew I was dreaming.

  “That’s all right. I wouldn’t expect you to. Everything is so new to you. I wish I could be there to help you through it; you are probably very scared.”

  “Isn’t it new to you?”

  “No, Joclyn. I have known about this my entire life.” His fingers continued to trail around my face, over the lines of my neck. The touch was warm and comforting; I was having trouble thinking straight.

  “This?” I motioned to the white expanse around us.

  “No, silly, not white spaces that lead into nothingness.” His tone was exactly like Ryland; it was hard to believe that my dreams could be so accurate.

  “Then what?”

  Ryland exhaled deeply at my question and looked around him for something; or more like he was expecting someone.

  “Tell me what happened to you.” He moved closer to me, his voice soft. My previous question lay forgotten behind me as my memory of the evening began running through my mind in fast forward.

  “I failed you, Ryland.” I could feel the tears trying to burst out, my face growing warm as I attempted to restrain them.

  Ryland leaned forward and pulled me into his lap, his arms winding their way around me.

  “You didn’t fail,” he whispered into my ear, his lips rubbing against my mark. The touch of his lips against the mark sent a slight shock through me.

  Same as it had in his bedroom.

  “But I went to my house, and my mom was… she was…” My voice caught, unsure if I wanted to face it, unsure if I could accept it. “And things were flying and then there was an explosion and… and I fell out of the window…”

  Ryland pulled me to him tighter, my tumble of words instantly ceasing.

  “I’m sorry, Joclyn, for everything. I never wanted you to be dragged into any of this. If I had remembered there was a window there, I wouldn’t have made the blast quite so strong.”

  He made the blast? I looked at him, confused, begging him to elaborate; but he only smiled at the look on my face.

  “Your back seems to be healing nicely, though.” He ran his fingertips up my spine, sending a warm shiver trailing behind.

  “Healing? How?”

  “The same way you are healing me, Jos.” He ran his fingers up my back again, through my hair, over the soft skin of my face. His touch seemed so real, I found myself leaning into the bare skin of his chest, breathing in his smell.

  “Everything is so confusing, Ryland,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “It’s all quite simpl
e, isn’t it, when you think about it?” The small smile evident in his quiet voice.

  I shook my head against him. I didn’t know what was simple about explosions and flying and… and… my mother.

  “How is it simple, Ryland?”

  “Oh, Joclyn, you are so special, and you don’t even know it yet.” His fingers trailed along my hairline comfortably. “Don’t reject what’s inside you, sweetheart.”

  “But—”

  “You are powerful, and amazing, and confident. You may be the one…”

  “The one to what?” I pulled away from him to look at him, but he only smiled sadly at me before pulling me back into his chest.

  “It’s nothing,” he whispered against my hair, cradling me against him until my body melded into his lap comfortably.

  I could hear Ryland’s heart beat through his chest, feel his warm breath run along my hair. I wished I could stay there forever, but instead, Ryland’s body stiffened underneath mine, his shoulder twitching.

  “I have to go.” It was almost a growl.

  “No.” I clung myself to him like a child, desperate for this small sense of normalcy to stay with me.

  “I have to.” He pulled my face up to look at him, his blue eyes deep and worried. “My father is trying to perform a Vymȁzat.”

  “Veemayzit?”

  “Yes, he is trying to get inside my brain, control me. I will protect you here…” He stopped, the pain dripping off his voice. He pulled me away from him, just far enough away to see his face as a whole.

  “Stay with Ilyan, Joclyn. The time may soon come that my father breaks in all the way, and when he does, I won’t remember you anymore. When that happens, I will only be a danger to you. But just remember that I love you; I will always love you. And locked inside me somewhere, I will always be waiting for you.” He spoke in an urgent rush; I could only stare at him.

  His head twitched to the side, his face screwing up into a pained expression, like someone was stabbing him. As soon as the pain had come, it went; he grabbed me roughly and held me in place, so I had nowhere to look but at him.

  “Promise me, Joclyn!” He twitched again, but his eyes never left mine.

  “Promise what?”

  “Stay with Ilyan. Remember that I love you.” He stood, his whole left side twitching now. He looked at me in agony. “I love you.” He held my hand tightly, the last contact we had, but even I could feel that slip away.

  “I love you, too,” I said, the truth of my words surprising even me. Ryland’s face broke into a wide smile that lit up his whole face.

  He leaned down, his hand resting on the side of my face. He moved closer and my heart beat faster in anticipation of a kiss. Before he even made it halfway, his whole body twitched, sending him to the ground as he yelled out in pain.

  “Ryland!” I moved to his body as he continued to twitch, my hands moving around him uselessly.

  His body calmed quickly and without warning. He lay still, curled up on the floor. I tentatively went to place my hand on his shoulder, desperate to know he would be okay, even though it was a dream. My hand stopped halfway to him; it hung in the air as my fingers began to shake in fear. There, on his back, resting on the same shoulder he had wrapped during the Rugby game, was a mark; a small raised brand, almost identical to mine, even down to the dragon shaped squiggles.

  “Ryland?” My voice was small. “What is this?” My fingertips touched the mark before pulling themselves away as a jolt spun through our bodies.

  Ryland jumped up, his face coming only inches from mine.

  “Still alive, are you?” His voice was a hiss and growl, the words dripping with venom and malice.

  I jumped away from him. I knew it was Ryland, but nothing about him looked familiar. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his face screwed up in a wicked grin. His eyes met mine, and I gasped. They were no longer the blue I loved so much, but a deep charcoal, almost a pure black. I stayed frozen to the ground, my mind sluggishly working through the shock to catch up to me.

  “Not for long!” Fake Ryland lunged at me, and I leaped to the side, my fleece pants sliding me across the white space around us. My breath came in sharp bursts as my dream changed to a nightmare.

  “Ryland?”

  He only laughed at me, laughed at my panic. The sound was unlike anything Ryland had ever made before. It was deep and menacing; it ripped through me, sending a shiver of panic skipping through my heart.

  Ryland began to twitch again, his body falling to the floor in yet another agonizing scream. He ran his fingers through his hair as he moaned, his white knuckles clawing through his curls. His hand jumped out, so fast I couldn’t move my arm away before he grabbed me, holding on to me tightly, making my heart race. Ryland looked up at me. I breathed a little sigh of relief at his eyes, now back to their regular blue. Even through the relief, my heart still beat in fear.

  “I have to go.” His voice was strained between his deep breaths.

  “Ryland?”

  “I can’t… my father…” He leaned forward, his shoulder and arm twitching more and more.

  Ryland reached forward and ran his finger down the side of my face. His face twitched again before he pressed his lips against my forehead.

  “Stay with Ilyan. I love you,” he whispered against my skin, his lips brushing me softly as he spoke. He leaned into me again, his lips burning into my skin. I closed my eyes at his touch, and when I opened them again, he was gone.

  I stared into the white space for a long while, trying to make sense of what was going on. Even though my mind was clear, I couldn’t work through the pieces. Long before I was ready, before I had made any semblance of anything that had happened, the gray and black that had stayed at the edge of the white space rushed at me, sucking me into the darkness.

  Thirty

  Joclyn

  I could hear the TV.

  The voices from some cheesy commercial chattered around me, almost like I was in the studio. I lay still, letting the sound wash over me as I replayed the dream in my mind, my face cringing at the lingering picture of Ryland’s contorted face. I shifted my weight out of habit, surprised when my body obeyed my command. Unlike the dream however, the movement triggered a hundred aches and pains that prickled over everything. While it didn’t feel as bad as the last pain I remembered, it still was far from comfortable.

  “Yes, Ovailia, I have felt them a few times, but nothing close as of yet.”

  At Ilyan’s voice I opened my eyes, this time to a dark room. I lay in a curled position on the long couch, a huge pile of blankets set on top of me. It made my body seem overly large and lumpy.

  Ilyan sat on the floor, his back resting against the couch by my knees, looking unfocused at the television directly across from me, the screen dim with some show about crab fishing. I watched it for a minute before Ilyan spoke again, pulling my mind away from the flickering box.

  “Her spine hasn’t quite fused yet, but it is close. Once that has finished, we will be leaving. You need to keep him there; I will reunite them soon. Besides, I am not in the mood to babysit.”

  I looked away from Ilyan, feeling awkward for eavesdropping on his phone call.

  “Manners, Ovailia, mrȁvy.” Ilyan’s voice was so stern it made my hair stand on end. The raised inflection must have awoken someone else in the room, and I heard someone gasp for air near my head. I rotated toward the noise, the movement sending an even sharper jolt of pain through my spine.

  Wyn was curled up in the big overstuffed chair, sleeping with a blanket over her legs. Part of me wished that the Wyn I had seen before—the Wyn who had pushed me under the water—was just a figment of my imagination. But there she sat, dark tattoos running down the side of her face and arm. Looking at them now, they didn’t seem quite as sinister as they had before. Their presence still sent an unpleasant clench through my body.

  “Finish setting your trails, and wait for my signal.” Ilyan clicked his phone shut and shifted his weight.

>   I couldn’t look away from Wyn. I didn’t want to try anyway; my body had begun to hurt and I wasn’t sure I could move.

  “The marks were a gift from her father and brother when they kicked her out of her home. I believe they had hoped the marks would kill her, but instead, they just linger.”

  I turned to the voice, shocked to see Ilyan sitting right by my head, his back arched so he could meet me at eye level.

  “Broth… er?” I was surprised when my voice cooperated, even though it was almost agony to get that one word out.

  “Yes, her brother. Not me, thankfully, but I might as well have been responsible; she was spying for me at the time, after all.” His voice sounded so angry and upset, the blame he felt still ravishing through him.

  “Broth… brother?” I tried again, desperately hoping Ilyan would understand my meaning and explain more.

  “No, Joclyn, I am not her brother, but I am a friend.”

  I arched my back to get a closer look at Wyn again, the movement sending a violent spasm through my spine. I groaned in pain as it shot through me.

  “Why… spy?” My voice strained, the words leaving me gasping, and my throat burning.

  “Why was she spying for me?” Ilyan reworded my question, and I nodded my head, letting my back slide back into a more comfortable position.

  “It’s complicated,” he said simply. “Wyn was spying on her father, her brother and their boss for me quite some time ago. She inadvertently saved me from a sticky situation and so I asked her to do me a favor.”

  “How… marks?” My words crept out, each one hurting.

  “Wyn’s kind—the Trpaslík—are a vicious race who punish traitors cruelly.”

  I opened my mouth to question further, but he cut me off.

  “I would really prefer that you not worry about all this right now. You need to heal, and the faster the better.” He must be irritated again; his accent was getting stronger and causing his consonants to turn into Zs and Vs.

  “Please?” I wasn’t begging. The words were coming a bit easier now, my voice stronger and laced with irritation.