Riven (The Illumine Series)

by Anders, Alivia

  Jessica raised a hand. "Mom!"

  A stilled silence settled upon the room, only broken by that of Jessica's continuing gasp for breath. The Queen turned to face the frail child lying in bed, a mask of expressionless quiet perfectly in place. Slowly she came closer, closing the gap between them until the shadows swirling in her skirts licked the edge of the bed frame.

  "I had planned to make this trip short," she said with a sneer. "But complications have risen in my faults. No matter." The Queen extended her arm, black satin covering her bone-thin fingers and hand, stretching all the way up to her elbows. "Tell me where she is."

  This was it, Jessica knew; the moment of her personal fork in the road. To give the Queen what she wanted would bring her life to an end with a sharp suddenness, and yet if she didn’t give it she would be equally damned to an early death. Options tumbled in her mind, like a deer standing in the middle of a dark road on a foggy night, and she knew she had to make the choice to jump into the woods and save her skin, or admire the glow of oncoming headlights and meet a brilliant demise.

  Jessica shook her head. "I refuse." Defiance gave her a delicious glow, lighting her eyes brighter than she had in weeks. "We finally stand a chance to be free. Three hundred years of your scorn has been more than enough. The time has come to watch you fall and lose your crown."

  The Queen’s knowing smirk twitched, a crack showing in her perfect facade. Just as quickly as it was seen, her face smoothed out, an expressionless vacancy in her eyes standing out against her forming mask of demonic blood. "Is that so?" They narrowed to slits, her lips pursed as she weighed her next words. "Perhaps you have forgotten your place, Seer."

  Jessica had not forgotten. "I would rather die,” she whispered with a giddy malevolence. “Than give you anything."

  Lucretia pulled her hand back, fingers curling to form a fist. For a second she stood there, glowering in the scorn from a frail half-human. Her words stirred the potions of vengeance deep within Lucretia's heart, echoing with sharp precision in her ears. The girl really thought it would be so easy to defy the Queen of their world.

  When her mouth opened to speak, no trace of discontent was to be found. "I had hoped," she began in a lilting tone. "That it would not come to this." Reaching into one of her sleeves, she drew a long, auburn needle the length of her forearm. The needle glowed, swirls of blood red and burnt orange warring within it. "But you leave me no choice." She drew the needle back, as if in slow motion, and plunged it into one of Jessica's legs.

  The frail girl cried out, screaming louder than ever before. Lorena, listening to her daughter's unbridled cries of pain rattling the room, stirred on the floor, raising her head. Pain lanced above her left eye as something sticky and wet clung to her skin and hair. Reaching a hand into her hair, she pulled back fingers stained with blood, just as the glass panes behind her spiderwebbed into fragments before exploding. A rush of the violent storm rain and wind poured into the room, drenching the monitors and equipment until the burst in puffs of choking smoke and wild sparks of electricity.

  Between the frightful screams of her daughter, malevolent grinning of the Queen, and the collapsing scene around her, something snapped in Lorena's mind. Her fingers fumbled for the small, silver dagger tucked under her shirt at her waist, unsheathing the blade and gripping it tightly in her quivering hand. With a wild scream she lunged forward, thrusting the blade deep into the back of the Queen's shoulder.

  For a moment, time seemed to pause, silence echoing in Lorena's ears. All eyes in the room transfixed on the hilt of the blade. Lorena's gaze flickered up to the Queen's, bottomless black eyes meeting her fearful gaze with a twisted delight. The Queen reached up, wrapping her fingers around Lorena's hand as it still held the blade. She gave it a twist, continuing to smile as the blade dug deeper into her flesh, then pulled it free. Dark blood, black as ink and thick as tar, bubbled from the small yet deep wound. She rolled her shoulder with barely a wince, the wound vanishing to a thin white scar before blending seamlessly into her skin, as if she had never beeb stabbed at all.

  Holding the dagger in her outstretched hand, she examined it with mild interest, tilting the blade back and forth as she ignored the screams from the bed behind her. "Curious, what did you plan to do once I had died? Take the throne for yourself? Or perhaps you thought that by killing me, maybe somehow your daughter would be spared an early grave?"

  Lorena barely had opened her mouth to speak when the Queen fastened her hands onto Lorena's face, the dagger clattering to the ground. Her palms pressed against Lorena's face, nails scratching the skin of her temples with each increase of pressure. With a jerk of her hands, she made sure the mother's eyes met hers before she spoke.

  "Shame, you will never know such pity from me."

  The Queen's nail grew, tips sharpening to jagged edges and cutting deeper into the skin. Needle-thin, startling white teeth filled her mouth as she gave a sickening smile that stretched from ear to ear. The unmistakable crunch of bone echoed within the room as the Queen flicked her wrists, breaking the protective mother's neck in one fell swoop.

  Jessica screamed even louder, wailing in agony as her mother’s corpse collapsed to the ground with finality. Bitten-down fingernails clawed at the needle steeped deep into her leg, frantic to pull it free. Lucretia came closer, storm winds whipping her hair in snake-like streaks across the room. With a single move she secured both of Jessica’s hands, pressing them firmly against her wounded leg, driving the needle home.

  “Do you know what this is, Jessie dear?” Lucretia asked with wicked glee. “It’s a spike from a demon tail, filled to the brim with poison. A little insurance, if you will.” She ran a gloved hand over the needle carefully, the swirls of red and orange within it turning to a wilted purple. “I’ve stuck it in the prime artery within your leg; if you pull it free without my magic, the poison will stop your heart in less than minutes. Do you understand?”

  “Monster!” Jessica screamed, writhing within her confinement. “Kill me now, I’ll tell you nothing, nothing, you murdering creature!”

  The Queen came closer, hand hovering against one of Jessica's cheeks. Heat built between them, an unbound friction reminding Jessica of the first time she clashed with her Mother over her cursed existence. Every touch was a double-edged sword; sweet comfort of knowing she was human, cursed bitterly to see their future with every brush of flesh.

  "Tell me where she is," Lucretia said in a tense, low tone. Her voice quivered with every syllable. "Tell me where I can find the girl."

  Jessica closed her eyes, shaking to the point of rattling teeth. Taking a deep breath, her words came out slow. "Burn in hell."

  Lucretia snapped; she let out a wild scream, and plunged the needle deeper into Jessica’s leg. As the girl cried out, Lucretia smashed a hand over her mouth, silencing her with the thin satin separating them from a rush of visions. Jessica lay there, stunned in fear. Her mother had once spoken cryptically of the Queen’s power, citing how the cities surrounding Charon had been reduced to rubble and ash because her true daughter had been killed over three hundred years ago. Never in her mind did she think she would bare witness to her raw abilities.

  The longer she watched, the more Jessica began to notice just how far from human the woman before her truly was. Bloody fingernails tore from the flimsy fabric covering the Queen’s arms, ripping in rippling waves until it all peeled back from the skin. Stained crimson scales covered her arms where pale flesh had once been, while rivers of green and black twisted like vines pulsating with dark life as they wrapped about her fingers.

  “One last chance, halfling,” Lucretia called to Jessica, hovering her lips inches above the girl’s ear. “Tell me where she is.” Jessica shook her head, biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Roaring in fury, the Queen shed the last of her protective gloves, and with a single move slammed her hand onto the Seer’s chest.

  Jessica screamed as loud as her vocal chords would allow, her body bucking on the bed
. Outside, the winds picked up with ferocious intensity, rain heaving into the room in swells of bruising waves. Lightning lit up the sky, arcing in a display of dazzling forked wings. If Jessica ever needed a sign she was doing the right thing, that was it.

  The visions began to pour into her mind, her eyes pooling to white. She continued to scream, flailing against the Queen’s iron-tight grasp as she too screamed, repeating the same question with a growing, ravenous panic.

  “Tell me, Jessica! Tell me where the girl is!”

  Pushing against the waves of images, Jessica fought back the screams long enough to give one solid retort, the last she’d ever give. “Give Essallie my best,” she hissed, daring to kiss the Queen’s cheek in a snark of defiance. Sweat and rain drenched her, and despite the hollow bruises under her eyes and sallow look of her skin, she never felt so alive. Her hands tightened around the needle. “When she lights you on fire.”

  And she pulled the needle free.

  Hell is cold.

  For the longest time, I thought I understood what they meant by those words and just how real it was. A barren wasteland, lost of anything living and good. Scrapped raw by something dark and foreign, an unholy ground for the devil to ponder and grow. A chilling hell that sits deep in your soul, festering like an untreated wound unable to be cured.

  There's just one problem. I think they got it wrong.

  They don't know about tasting divinity, only to lose it in battle. To breathe with unbridled clarity, unaware of the smog creeping in the shadows. To feel passion running over your skin like a desired fever, yet be unable to act on those feelings.

  Whoever said that hell was cold was wrong, oh so wrong. They don't know what the real hell is like, and how scorching hot it grows. How badly it burns.

  Death is cold, not hell.

  Hell is here, inside of me, cooking me alive.

  And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ANGELS

  I opened my mouth to scream, water filling my lungs. It burned, racing down my throat as my body thrashed, starving for oxygen.

  I hate water.

  Okay, maybe I should re-phrase that; I hate bodies of water. Lakes, ponds, seas, rivers, they’re all the same to me. A mess of gravity and pressure, a mysterious expanse of hidden secrets, beckoning you to test your fate each time you dip into its space. It’s a cruel, unkind place that takes its victims without care, and spares those it feels deserve a second chance to fight. No rhythm or rhyme, just chance.

  Hands pulled my head out from the small, rusted metal basin with a sharp jerk, nails scratching at my already tender scalp. The second I broke the surface, the pain in my chest intensified, each heave for air worse than the last. And to think, this had only been going on for the last ten minutes.

  “I’ll ask you again, Essallie,” Ursula whispered in my ear with her sickly sweet tone, reminding me of honey drizzling over a box of rat poison. “Which will it be, the wrist or the ankle?”

  I gave her a moment of mock pause. “Depends. Do I get screwed like all your other significant others afterwards?”

  She shoved my head back into the basin, letting me linger until my chest felt like it could spontaneously combust. Black spots blotched my sight when she yanked me back up for air, her breath hot on my face.

  “Care to repeat that?”

  I shook my head against the pressure building in my temples, nausea rolling my stomach flat. “Of course not, Little Miss Loose Legs. I must aim to please you, just like all the other disposable men and women have through time.”

  Ursula swore in a language I didn’t know before tossing me to the floor, laughing as I collapsed in a limp heap. Rolling onto my side, I heaved instinctively, my teeth rattling as my body shook in convulsions. I wanted to hit her, scratch the malevolent grin off her face and toss her immortal corpse to a pack of starving lions. A mixture of sweat and water clung to my skin in a sickly sheen film, the only barrier between me and my enemy.

  The sound of her stilettos clinking on the cobblestone floor grew closer, the air shifting as she bent down to my level. “You talk big for a prisoner, Essie. But without your little demon lover and lost puppy Nephilim counterpart, you’re weak.”

  Anger blazed in my chest. I rolled over to face her, tossing both hands in the air. Blue fire flared from my fingertips, suctioning to her face faster than she could react. She fell backwards to the floor, screaming as I burned her face for the second time since we met.

  I scrambled to my feet and stumbled for the door, throwing it open in a single swing. All I had to do was make it to the end of the building. Racing down the hallway, I recited the plan in my head. Three hallways, two left turns, kill anyone in the way.

  The first left turn held three Vens, each armed with thick, black swords twisting with violet smoke. Ashpods, I already knew, extremely poisonous and paralyzing to whoever is cut by one. Exactly my weapon of choice.

  One of the Vens screamed, pointing a finger at me in astonishment. Flicking my hand, I continued to charge towards them, fire cresting off my hand to form a half-shield, my other hands brandishing a sword crafted of flame. Slamming back into the wall to avoid the first Vens, I sliced at his extended fingers, watching his hand drop to the ground before fizzling to black bones.

  The other two leapt into action, ashpods drawn. I ducked between the two, tossing my shield above my head to avoid both blows. Blue fire and purple smoke mixed, creating a frenzied haze in the hall. I used it to my advantage, pulling back my blaze long enough to sneak behind one of the Vens and wrap my hands around his neck. Fire lit up my palms, my hands twisting with a rough jerk until the sound of his neck snapping in half rang true to my ears.

  A bolt of black cut through the smoke. I held up the Vens’ fresh corpse, watching the blade bury into his chest, black fire racing over his skin faster than a flick of light. My hands fumbled for the dead Vens’ ashpod, grasping the handle just in time to swing upward at the first Vens. Under better situations, I probably would have made a jab at his new stump.

  Ashpod blades bounced off another, purple smoke dashing the air like hazy radio waves. I took another stab at him, nicking a pinch of flesh on his arm. That was all it took; he seized almost instantly, turning rigid before collapsing to the ground in a shuddering heap. He would stay there until someone administered an antidote, granted only if he’d live long enough to receive it.

  My sigh of relief was cut short as the cry of the last Vens came from my left. I turned in time to block his swinging blade, the force of his hit knocking me to the ground. A quick tumble backwards and I was back on the balls of my feet, determination burning in my fire. Tossing the ashpod to the side, I dropped my fire shield, locked both hands in, and launched a fireball the size of the whole hallway. He didn’t even have time to scream.

  I wasted no time for the fire to settle and clear the air; scooping up the black blade once more, I charged down the second hallway, scanning every inch of the way. At first, I thought it was luck no one heard the commotion of three guards and a prisoner fighting it out in the hall. My second left turn proved otherwise.

  Standing at the end of the last hall, the only thing keeping me from my freedom, was an army of Vens deep enough to fill an auditorium. At the head of the pack, sporting pink skin flecked with ugly red burns, stood Ursula in all of her over-done couture glory.

  “Really, Essallie? We’re going to do this again?” She said with a roll of her eyes, boredom written all over her face. “When are you going to learn, there is no freedom for you?”

  I gave her a quick look-over. “Probably when you realize that those hooker heels are so 1980.” I added a wink for extra effect. “What’s the matter succubus, face meet stove? Might want some ointment for that burn.”

  Rage boiled in her stare, a new shade of pink having nothing to do with her burns tinting her cheeks. “I cannot wait for the day the Queen finally takes care of you, you little half-breed scum. Shame you won’t be around to
see the world under her new rule.”

  I feigned dramatic shock. “Oh no! Me, dead? You promised me you’d keep my fortune cookie a secret.”

  One of her stilettos began to tap impatiently. She gave me a twisted, malicious smile. “Give it up, drop the blade and I promise not to let the guards be too rough with you this time.”

  “As if,” I laughed back. Taking stance, I beckoned them forward with a wag of a finger. “Come on, pretty girl. Give me something worthy of my time.”

  Ursula laughed, then moved faster than I had ever seen. Her hand whipped forward at me, slicing at my cheek. The familiar feel of warm, wet stickiness ran down my cheek and under my jaw. I didn’t need to touch it to know it was blood, that Ursula had struck me quicker than I could even register the hit. Eyes on her, I watched her wiggle her fingers at me, taunting me with the stain of my own blood on her hands.

  “Guess it wasn’t the wrist or the ankle today, but the cheek. Shame,” she faux-pouted. “I kind of liked your almost perfect face.” Ursula turned to the nearest Vens and gave a curt nod, seemingly satisfied. Swiveling on her heels, she sauntered through the cluster of them, her platinum blonde head disappearing in the sea of black clothes. “Have fun!” Her voice trilled from the mass, wicked laughter filling the silence as the Vens began to shuffle forward, each armed with their own black blade of poison.

  I had the distinct, familiar sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to end well.

  ___

  Hours later, they tossed me back into my cell with seemingly no effort. No sooner had the door shut was I back on my feet, hurtling fire balls at the steel door with a scream.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” I yelled, curling another ball of flame in the palm of my hand. It smashed into the door, fire licking the edges of the metal for a second before vanishing into a puff of smoke. “Tell that witch of a Queen to show her damn face!”