by Allie Jean
“And my name?” Her voice cracked. “Is Chantal even my real name?”
“Yes, your first name. Your last name is Santangelo, not Breelan.”
“Oh, of course.” Chantal laughed almost hysterically. “An Italian girl with a southern drawl. Talk about an oxymoron.”
“Chantal.”
“My whole life is a joke. One big disaster.”
“Stop.”
“I’m assuming my mother is alive, since I saw her standing over my sister’s body in those damn memories. Where is she, huh? Is she living it up somewhere? Maybe Maui or Tahiti?”
“Your mother died several years ago!” Mathias yelled. “She was murdered by a Fallen after she refused to reveal your location.”
Chantal’s legs gave out, and she sank shakily to the ground as she stared in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” Mathias said, moving closer to her for comfort. He had one massive arm wrapped around her, and this time she let him. “I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s better to just say it. I thought she was dead for a long time now, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Still, I’m sorry.”
“Do you know that I can remember how things began to fall apart? I remember my father tracing his gray skin with my tiny fingers and me asking him why he was so different from the rest of us. The lack of coloring fascinated me.”
She could still see his image in her mind as he watched her, his expression so warm and loving as he told her how special she and her sister were, how blessed. She remembered Quintus always standing guard while she played with Luanne, whispering quietly with Damon about safety and protection. Damon would play dress-up with them, acting like Luanne and Chantal were the princesses, and he was an honorable knight, practicing for when it was his turn to fight as a warrior of the Oracles.
“Luanne was only six when Damon killed her in a fit of rage and influence,” she said, the memory of Luanne’s death slamming into her all over again. “She’d been so innocent, Mathias. How could my own brother do that to our baby sister?”
He pulled her closer to him, and she laid her head on his chest. She cried and he hugged her.
“Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?” She hated that her voice sounded closer to a five-year-old than a grown woman, yet she figured, she was due for a full-fledged, all out breakdown.
“I don’t know how to answer that without lying.” His head rested on top of hers, and his blazon honesty made Chantal laugh through her tears. He didn’t shy away from her mood swings or call her out for her hysterics, but just held her through each emotion, acting as her anchor and keeping her sane when she wanted to let her mind drift away.
After several moments, she calmed a little. The fire crackled and sparked, heating the area until she felt warm and comforted. Or it might have been Mathias that created the feeling of safety and contentment, penetrating the haze of uncertainty and doubt that had chased her out of her home and into a world that didn’t make any sense. Through it all, he had been a constant, always in control. She looked up at him with watery eyes, studying the lines of his perfect face.
“Why are you here with me? Is it your job, or something more?” she asked. He’d seen her at her worst. Why not mix in a little vulnerability? She’d resolved that her feelings for Mathias had grown to more than just admiration for his heroics. Unafraid of rejection any longer, she figured she had nothing to lose.
“You know, you’re kind of like my best friend.” His response shocked her.
“Those nights you would sit on your bed and talk to me as Nick as if I were sitting next to you, made me feel like I knew things about you no one else did. It was easy to make a connection to you.”
“Best friend,” Chantal repeated the word, dropping her eyes back to the fire. The friend part felt like a sharp knife digging into her side. That wasn’t what she’d been aiming for, but she could understand why he saw her that way. Part of her felt inclined to agree. He had been her childhood companion and she grew up talking to him every day as her BFF, her confidant, even if it was all in her head.
For the moment, she didn’t want to press him. His chest felt warm beneath her cheek, and she could feel sleep creeping up on her, a welcomed guest amid the turmoil and doubt.
“I could easily see myself falling in love with you,” he whispered it, and he couldn’t even be sure she’d heard him right. “You’re kind and beautiful. You have an amazing heart and strength. A true warrior. Why wouldn’t I fall for you?”
“But . . .”
“But there’s a war to fight,” he said. “And those kinds of things tend to complicate and cloud the issue. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your safety by playing into something foolish.”
“Hmmm.” She didn’t want to commit either way. Part of her wanted to slap him, to tell him that if there was a chance for them to start something, why put it off? Another part of her knew that he could most likely be right. Either way, frustration and disappointment joined the mess of emotions clogging her brain. It was all very exhausting.
“Sleep,” he said, securing his comfort all around her. “I’ll watch over you.”
And she knew he would.
Chantal awoke to a ray of light shining down from the broken roof. Dust mites drifted in the air, tickling her nose, and making her rub her eyes. Mathias slept soundly beside her. Last night’s fire leaving a trail of wispy smoke brushing his beautiful face.
She took the opportunity to really look him over, noticing how his skin seemed to change pigments as he breathed. Everything about him remained such a mystery, but she found herself looking forward to unraveling every facet. Before, she’d worried about his feelings for her, wondering if she were alone in hers. What he’d said last night had made her more confident, and instead of stressing about it all, she figured she’d roll with the punches.
After she’d gotten her fill of him, Chantal investigated the room, hoping to find some food or water. In the light of day, the small church revealed nothing but more disrepair and clutter. It had obviously been left to decay long ago.
“Didn’t even have the sense to clean up after yourselves.”
Left with no other option, she went over to one of the arched windows. Several weak-looking two-by-fours blocked the outside world, but they seemed to have been tacked into place, leaving sizeable gaps between each piece.
She took in the morning sun, enjoying the sort of peace the light brought. There didn’t seem to be anything but a vast expanse of flat, brown land. There were no houses or farms as far as she could see. The vague outline of an old dirt road leading up to the building offered the lone sign that people had once ventured out this far. It’s no wonder it had been abandoned so long ago, there were no visible signs of anybody close enough to attend the church.
Mathias was still sleeping, one hand stretched out to where she’d lain. Knowing him, he’d probably stayed awake all night, standing guard over her until sunrise. Another reason to care for him.
Moving quietly, she continued her search. Titus had given her a plastic grocery bag filled with the bare essentials before he’d lifted the ward from her mind, and released her memories. She’d just had enough time to pull a pair of jeans out of it and slip them on before Mathias had whisked her away in the Shade. They’d timed their departure with Titus and the others perfectly, hoping that the group of fleeing warriors would offer a distraction for the creatures hunting them. Now that she’d thought of it, maybe the bag held something she could use.
Careful not to wake Mathias, Chantal made her way to the bag and found two water bottles and a couple of energy bars at the bottom. She also found a pair of toothbrushes, toothpaste, Handi-Wipes, and a change of pants for Mathias.
She went behind a broken pew and leaned against the wall to do what she could to get herself clean. She peeled the plastic sticker off the wipes and began a swift “spit job,” focusing on the parts of her body she could reach wit
hout getting completely nude, redressed, and then she brushed her teeth vigorously. When she finished, she felt somewhat normal. It’s amazing what a little TLC could do.
To pass the time, she picked up a piece of paper and tried to decipher the writing. She could see the place the altar must have been, because there was a slight shadow of a cross on the wall. No other religious artifacts could be found.
Behind one of the overturned pews, Chantal found a long, narrow stick. It looked like something a boy would find and use as a makeshift sword. She picked it up off the ground, studying it as the memories of her fight with the Seethers came back in vivid detail. It didn’t hold a candle to the strength of the metal blade, but she’d make do if she had to.
When she’d killed those creatures in the courtyard, it had felt like her body almost went on autopilot. A part of her brain seemed to be hard-wired, since her father had never taught her to fight that she could recall. Now that she had her memories back, she could remember Quintus showing Damon a thing or two, but never the girls. They’d been left to their dolls and dress-up clothes like the meek little things they were. Did her father not know that his daughter would gain the ability to fight as a warrior?
She swung it around herself, making grand circles and thrusting it into the guts of imaginary opponents. In her mind’s eye, she saw her enemy before her. Snarling fangs and evil intent, she cut the down with sure strokes, the power she’d felt before zinging through her.
She spun around to face the imaginary creature behind her, only to find Mathias standing there. She felt a little sheepish, but returned his smile, blushing at the same time.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Mathias said, gesturing toward her in encouragement. Chantal scuffed her foot on the ground, mortified and a little unsure.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said. “I feel kind of lost when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“Well, you look like a natural. Hold it out for me.”
She complied, pointing it toward him in a fencing stance, and he wrapped his large hands around the tip and pulled without warning.
“You have a good grip on your weapon,” he said as he looked from the wood to her posture, gauging how well she maintained her balance. “And you have a natural center of gravity. I’m impressed.”
“You can tell all that by just looking at me?”
“I can tell a lot by just by looking at you.” He stared at her for a moment, liquid blue eyes piercing through her. Then his expression took on a more professional demeanor. “I think it’s best if we started your training as soon as possible.”
“Training?”
“Yes. It seems that you have a natural talent. Whether it’s because all Oracles obtain this gift at your age, or it’s something inherited remains to be seen. For now, let’s focus on your baseline skill and build up from that.”
For the rest of the morning, they sparred with rustic pieces of wood. Mathias even fashioned a flat part of a pew backing to serve as a shield so Chantal could get accustomed to its feel. He told her that the greatest weapon a swordsmen could have was a good shield, and after blocking several would-be deathblows, she understood its merits.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” Chantal sat panting and covered in sweat. She’d already drained one full bottle of water and was working on another.
“Your body will get used to it,” Mathias said. He didn’t even sound winded after all of that. Chantal glared at him, feeling slighted in a strange way.
“Were you born with all those muscles,” she said under her breath, but Mathias heard her.
She took another sip of water, and then offered the rest to Mathias. He declined.
“Explain something to me,” she said, taking another sip. “What’s with all of this ‘sacred ground’ stuff?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I heard Lukas say that the creatures couldn’t set foot on it, but it seemed like the Kajola soldiers didn’t have any issues with it.”
“The Kajola were born from the Fallen just like we were, they’ve just chosen another path,” he said.
“Like my brother.” She felt melancholy and contemplative. Then she straightened her spine and continued with her line of questioning. “Explain to me why the creatures can’t come onto the sacred ground.”
“The Shade cannot penetrate something that has been sanctified,” Mathias said. “Think of it as a blind spot. From within the Shade, hallowed ground simply does not exist. Because of that, we cannot land in it, and those that are made of the Shade cannot step foot on it.”
“That’s why we landed outside the church, both here and in New York.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Chantal sat contemplating for a moment, and Mathias remained silent.
“How do they find Oracles? Do we have some kind of inner beacon or something?” She drew patterns in the ground, shifting the dirt with a small stick.
“I’m not sure I want to answer that question.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to frighten you any more than you already are.”
“Look,” Chantal said, getting up and dusting off her hands and jeans, “I don’t think I can be any more freaked out, so just spill it.”
“Chantal,” he said, running a hand through his black hair in exasperation. “Haven’t you had enough information for a while?”
“Don’t do that,” she said, pointing a shaky finger at him. “Don’t act like I’m some weak woman who can’t handle anything.”
He gave her a pointed look, as if to remind her of the near mental breakdown she’d suffered not even twelve hours ago.
“I can handle it.”
“Fine,” Mathias said. “Oracles still hold the Grace of Heaven. With age, that grace only strengthens, allowing them to be seen within the Shade as great balls of light and clarity. Unless they are hidden within the bubble created by hallowed ground, they are vulnerable. That is how the Kajola hunt and that is how they found you.”
“You don’t think I should’ve known about that? Pretty important piece of information, don’t ya think?”
Chantal was furious. More than that, she was disappointed. She’d thought she could trust Mathias enough to be honest with her, especially about something that would impact her life. He’d no former knowledge of Damon being her brother, so she had no reason to think he’d been hiding anything from her.
“I’m not going to just sit you down and tell you every little thing you should know about this world,” Mathias said.
“But something that will impact the way I live my life is kind of a big deal.”
“Everything is going to impact your life, Chantal. Your life has changed. Deal with it, and stop getting so angry every time you find out something new. I’m not the bad guy here.”
“Well, you seem like one. Especially when you’re not up-front with me!”
“I’m being as forthcoming as I know how to be. If that’s not good enough for you, I don’t know what to tell you. Have I not proved my honor and loyalty enough for you to trust me?”
A shuffling noise outside followed by a sudden bang made them halt in their tracks. Both remained on alert, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Another slight creaking from the direction of the porch resounded into the room, and Mathias shot to attention, running over to a boarded up window to check it out.
“What is it?” Chantal whispered. She hadn’t moved an inch, too afraid that the Kajola had found her.
“Stay here,” Mathias said, and went outside to check, leaving Chantal to worry herself into a panic. She kept her eyes fixed on the doorway and both ears open.
A gust of wind crept through the cracks in the decrepit wood, the whistling air sounding like moans. A few more creaks of wood and a scurrying of tiny feet had her on edge. Just then, the front door flew open, and Chantal gasped as a figure crossed the threshold.
“Hello, Chantal. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Andreu.” Chantal sighed, relieved, and gave him a huge hug, taking in the large bag of items in his arms.
“I found him lurking about,” Mathias said.
“I got trapped out in the desert once the sun rose.” Andreu chuckled. “I think I jogged a half a dozen miles before coming across this place and still I wasn’t sure if you two were in here.” Andreu dropped his bag on the ground and rummaged through it.
“There can’t be too many sacred places out in the middle of nowhere. I’m just a lucky girl. Guess this is my life from now on, isn’t it?” Mathias glared at her.
“Am I missing something here?”
“I think I should take a quick look around outside,” Mathias said, his eyes never wavering from Chantal’s.
“Good idea.”
After Mathias left, Andreu said, “Well, you two seem to be hitting it off better than ever.
“I’m sorry.” Chantal sighed. “I know I’m acting like such a spoiled brat. He just makes me so damn mad, and all of this is just so horrible. He probably hates me.”
“I’ve known Mathias for a long time, and believe me, that man does not hate you.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t like me very much. What kind of life has he had watching over his charge all these years? I’d imagine none at all. I hardly feel worthy of that kind of loyalty,” Chantal said, digging her hands into her pockets to keep from fidgeting.
Andreu paused in his unpacking to study her, and Chantal felt a little odd under his scrutiny, but she didn’t say anything. Then he just smiled.
“Come sit with me.” He motioned toward the ground near the smoldering fire. “Let’s have a chat.”
After quick internal consideration, she figured if he’d been so willing to fight and die to give her and the other Oracles a chance to escape, she could at least give him this.
“Are the girls okay?” She picked at a weed growing through the floorboards as she steered the conversation away from her tremulous relationship with Mathias.
Relationship? Not even close. She thought.
“They’re safe. And don’t try to change the subject.” He handed her a bottle of water from his pack, and Chantal took it gratefully. She busied herself by drinking half the contents, her exertions with Mathias earlier having left her more dehydrated than she’d thought. As she drank, she noticed Andreu’s dark olive skin that complemented his light amber eyes, and wondered where he was from. He waited for her with the patience of a well-trained counselor, and she knew she couldn’t stall any longer.