Winterskin: A Dark Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 1)

by C. M. Estopare

  ~~~

  The wind blew white flurries from the sky as Vidonia and Kat passed through the Safranian countryside. Log cabins and stone temples dotted the path of dark dirt and rubble as they followed a weaving pathway that gradually turned to cobblestone. Few people meandered through the countryside, from merchants drawing carriages and wily horses or oxen, to weathered women and farmers carrying baskets of wheat or that of linen freshly drawn from the coastline. Most wore clothing that did not protect them from the wintry chill, the Safranians dressed for the scathing northern heat instead of the southern winter chill.

  “The cold normally does not progress past the forest, but it seems as if things are changing.” Vidonia remarked to Kat. “The sun does not rise as it hides behind a curtain of black—it seems as though the day is coming to an end when it is only midday.”

  Kat replied with a nod, her eyes on white stone houses and vast plots of land overgrown with bowing heads of grain.

  When they came closer to the glittering citadels of white, Vidonia took a sharp left. The path veering off into dense plains of green. A single castle-like structure of pale stone sitting in the distance. The structure large and solitary, enclosed by sharp black gates.

  Kat and Vidonia approached the structure, Vidonia clutching the black iron gate before wrenching it open with a grunt.

  “Come on, then.” Vidonia murmured, waving Kat inside. “You're welcome here.”

  The structure stood like a cathedral, looking down upon Kat with its stained glass spire-windows and its imposing stone of white.

  From a smaller window, Kat registered movement. A slick silhouette of black stirred, stiffening as Vidonia approached before vanishing completely.

  Vidonia brought a hand to the towering oak entrance and raised her knuckles to rap against it. But, before she could bring her hand to the wood, the door moaned. Opening slightly.

  Kat took to the steps, coming up behind Vidonia as a chilly breeze sailed by.

  “What do you want?” a raspy voice whispered through the slender crack of the door. “What do you have for me?”

  Clasping her fingers around the door's thick frame, Vidonia attempted to pry the door from the person inside. “You don't recognize me?” Vidonia snapped, her voice icy. “Come now, Clara. Look into my eyes—,”

  Snatching the door from Vidonia's prying fingers, the woman on the other side slammed it shut. Multiple locks clicked as Vidonia placed an open palm upon the oak.

  “Are you a shifter? A changeling?” The woman called out, “You cannot be my Rosetta—she is councilor to kings! These are dire straits—creature. In times such as these, she wouldn't flee the capital to come to me—of all people!” the woman scoffed. “Try again. Perhaps you're another one whose been sent out to murder me?”

  Vidonia sighed. “Clara...let me in—we need your help. The world needs your help!”

  “Try again! I've heard that one before!”

  Kat met Vidonia's eyes before she slowly rolled them. “I've a magebane here, Clara. Have you heard that one before?” she teased.

  Multiple locks clicked before the door gradually swung open. “A magebane?” Clara whimpered, a single eye peering out through the dark crack in the door. “But I thought only one existed—one by the name of Jacinthe Ledora...”

  “That one is...” Vidonia swallowed, “lost, for the time being. Here is another. One by the name of Maeva—,”

  “Maeva!” Clara squealed, swinging the door open with a snap. “Ah, it has been some time since I've heard that name. Anathema—child of anathema?” Clara asked, cocking her head of midnight hair as her cat-like eyes widened. “Yes, child. Unless Seraphina is like us, Rosetta? She is not—,” Clara backed away, ushering the two inside with a graceful flick of her wrist, “—is she?”

  “She is not.” Vidonia replied, voice monotone. “Clara, we've come to ask a favor.”

  Behind them, the door slammed shut as they entered a large hall of polished wood floors and high dome ceilings. Their footsteps echoed round the massive room as Clara lead them to a spire-topped door and into a smaller room brimming with heat from a well-kept fireplace. Two chairs of plush velveteen sat in front of the fireplace's pastel colored brick, and a large rug of bright scarlet softened their steps as Clara led the two women to the chairs.

  “A favor?” Clara sang, closing the door behind them. “Tell me then, sister. What do you want now?”

  Kat didn't see the resemblance between the two, and as she sat down she took the chance to study Clara's face. The tall woman resembled a cat with her long swan-like neck and smooth locks of midnight silk. Her eyes were the most cat-like, slanted and sly, painted with black kohl upon the rims. Her face was longer than Vidonia's, yet younger and less pale. She moved with the grace of a slowly moving river, the woman floating forward as her long hair draped gracefully behind her like a curtain.

  Clara came to Vidonia's side, placing a hand upon the armrest of the woman's chair. “Do you know the state of the crux?” Vidonia asked her, placing a hand upon Clara's.

  Clara tilted her head. “I'm more interested in your magebane, sister. You know I cannot work magic.”

  “We will get to her.”

  Sitting upon her sister's armrest, Clara crossed long legs beneath a slick gown of scarlet silk before resting her gaze upon Kat's face. “What is your first name, Maeva? Are you a direct descendant of Seraphina or Francesca?”

  “Clara!” Vidonia snapped, slapping her hand to Clara's shoulder. “This is important—we will get to her—,”

  “Speak, Maeva.”

  Kat widened her eyes. Seraphina was her mother's name—the Night Lady's human name. Francesca was the first name of her Gran. “Seraphina.” Kat replied, biting her tongue as Vidonia glared daggers at her. The fire light touching the other woman's face in all the wrong places. “I—,”

  Clara raised a hand, halting Kat mid-sentence. “And what of you, sister? What have you got to tell me that is so pressing?”

  “I am cut off from the Crux.”

  Clara gasped. “Have they—,”

  “We are cut off from the Crux—the entire world is cut off from the Crux because Seraphina has fed a soul to it!”

  Clara gasped once more, her face turning white. “The soul of whom?” she asked, palm over her lips. “I thought—I thought that was against the sorcerer's code...”

  “The Night Lady does not operate on the code, sister. Have you forgotten that she is anathema?”

  “No—I know, I know.” Clara replied, shaking her head. “But still—even beasts know right from wrong—,”

  “She has always lusted for power, and now she has tainted the Crux because of her unquenchable lust. The Keeper has demanded we kill her and send her soul to the Crux as punishment.”

  “But will that cleanse the Crux?” Clara murmured, eyes upon her lap. “Will that right things?”

  Vidonia sat in silence for a while as Kat listened, gaze scanning the flames as she dug her fingernails into the arm rests of her chair. Eyes heavy.

  “I do not know.”

  “Death only begets death.” Clara murmured, her voice a cool monotone. “Is this not so?”

  Vidonia shook her head. “The Keeper has commanded it, and therefore...we have no choice. In this, we need your help.”

  “How do you plan to take the life of Seraphina? Without magic—without being able to commune with the Crux...there is no way...”

  At this, Vidonia frowned. “Have you forgotten our curse?”

  Kat listened to the silence as she felt Clara's eyes bore into her.

  “Does she know?” Clara hissed.

  Vidonia brought her eyes to Kat. “Katell Maeva,” she called, “what am I?”

  Kat brought her eyes to Vidonia. “A hetaera—vampire.”

  “Correct.” Vidonia nodded, “My sister, here, what is she?”

  Kat blinked. “A vampire as well?”

  At this, Vidonia shook her head. “Close, but incorrect. Clara?”
>
  Clara stood, her face grim as she opened ruby red lips. “I am a high hetaera.” she said matter-of-factly.

  “And tell her what you're capable of.”

  Kat watched Clara swallow, her throat barely moving. She snapped her gaze to her sister. “Wait—do you expect me to change her? To take her humanity away in the hopes that she...?”

  Kat widened her eyes. “Change me?”

  Vidonia nodded, her lips a sharp line. “It is the only way.” she told her sister, ignoring the gazes of both Clara and Kat as she glared at the rippling flames of the fire before her. “A hetaera in its primal form may not have a chance at defeating the Night Lady—,” snapping her gaze to Clara and Kat, she glared at both women. Sliding her gaze from one, and then to the other. “—but imagine two taking her on. Two hetaera in their primal forms. Together—we would have a chance. And all without touching the Power's Crux.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  “Sleep on it, Katell.” Vidonia told her, leaning forward towards the fire with her clasped hands before her lips. “You'll have a matter of days to think on it.”

  “The Changing can be painful—it could swallow your strength for days at a time...you'd need rest afterwards...time to regather your strength...,” Clara murmured as she perched herself atop Vidonia's armrest. “If you plan to stop Seraphina—make a decision quickly.

  “Oh, and—be careful in these halls. This is a place for...us,” Clara told Kat, emphasizing the final word. “if anyone bothers you, stress that you are under my mark.”

  “Now, begone.” Vidonia snapped, clasped hands tightening. “My sister and I have much to talk about.”

  Kat stood almost instantly. Facing the two women, she clenched her fists at her sides. “I'll make a decision tonight and approach you in the morning.” she nodded at Clara who responded with a silent chin tilt. “Can you show me to a room?”

  Clara shrugged. “This place isn't terribly full. Pick any place you like—but avoid searching for too long. You'll need to lock yourself away when the moon rises,” Clara winked, smirking. “for safety, of course.”

  ~~~

  Kat missed moments like this. Being alone. Though, often times in Montbereau she'd walk the edge of Baate Noir for a few moments of silence; being here, in Clara's sprawling domain, was much like being alone in the forest.

  Domed ceilings rose up high over her head like an overcast sky, as hallways lengthened on for miles, their walls spread wide. Wide enough for Kat to zigzag and walk how she pleased. Wide enough for Kat to hear her echoing steps rebound off of thick stone walls or high-rising windows stained a myriad of saintly colors.

  She walked with her hands behind her back, her bare forearms brushing the bear skin cape at her back. The feeling brought reassurance. It reminded her of petting a dog, or brushing Maddy's hair. It reminded her of sleeping at home, in that tiny little log cabin that barely had enough room for the four of them.

  It reminded her of Sonant Kaiden—barely, just barely could she smell his musk scenting the cape she wore.

  For a moment, she stood. Stooped. Grasping her fingers around the clasp at her neck that kept the cape on her back, she thought of ripping it off. Was it right for her to wear the gift of the man Vidonia murdered? Wasn't his death her fault? These clothes—these garments...the weapon upon her thigh—it wasn't right for her to keep it all.

  Suddenly, she felt the urge to strip.

  But knew she was being watched. Something lurked in the shadows before and behind her.

  Clara's words echoed through her mind—this is a place for us...

  Did she mean hetaera? Vampires? Kat always saw them as beasts—myths at first—but upon meeting, and killing, her first hetaera she believed them to be mindless, blood thirsty, beasts.

  But, apparently she was wrong. Vidonia was one. Clara was one.

  Had Anais been one as well?

  Kat resumed her walk at a slow pace. How long had it been since she had had time to herself? Time to process and think things over? How long had it been?

  Even back home in Montbereau, she was always being dragged this way and that—doing things for people. Always doing things for others, but never herself. She saw it as her duty to help others out—in servitude she found happiness. It was a great distraction to her state, to her thoughts and her past.

  Remicourt.

  The name still made her heave. All the things her mother had done...had Gran known her mother was the Night Lady? Had she willingly withheld that information from Kat?

  Had anyone else known? Was she the only one left in the dark?

  Kaiden knew she possessed Power—how had she not known? Was this something else Gran had kept from her? Had Gran even known?

  Kat had so many questions—with no one to answer them. When did her life become so complicated? Some part of her wished things would go back to normal, that she had never fought to be placed on the Chaperon and gotten into this mess.

  She missed her friends, her family, her shieldbrothers. She missed Montbereau—hell, she even missed the demesne's duke! She missed the order and simplicity of things. She missed being boring old Katell, granddaughter to a wood cutter. She missed only using her ax to cut wood instead of people. She missed not being able to commune with the Crux.

  When did everything go so wrong?

  When did she get mixed up in all this?

  I don't belong here, she told herself as she approached a long window, I don't belong in this place.

  Yet, here she was. Pressing her forehead upon the glass, she felt its cool touch as her eyes scanned the fields of bowing green below. Kat had never been this far east and yet, something told her she wouldn't be coming this far east ever again.

  Her thoughts ventured to the north.

  Before a hand landed upon her shoulder.

  A nose brushed its way up the back of her neck, a warm breath coaxing the fine hairs upon her skin to rise.

  Spinning on her heel, she turned to face the man at her back.

  Only to find nothing but white walls and high windows staring her down. Taunting her.

  Snapping her gaze to her right, she spotted a silhouette in the distance. The figure of a large man stood with muscular arms crossed over a wide and brawny chest. Kat opened her mouth to speak, her lips moving in silence before she closed them and decided to approach.

  Only for the figure to disappear.

  She gasped lightly, her chin rising as warm breath kissed the nape of her neck once more. A familiarity in the light brush of calloused fingertips moving their way up her spine and back down her neck.

  Things this intimate, this close—she had only allowed one man to touch her in this way. Only one.

  Her gaze snapped back to the right as a heavy door slammed shut with a wall shuddering smack. The feeling, too, left her the moment the door shut, the warm presence at her back, the fingertips brushing their way along her spine—all of it. All of it left. Gone as easily as a brush of wind.

  Kat felt herself shiver. Did she deserve pleasure such as this? She had to make a decision today...tonight—would she become hetaera so that she would be strong enough without the Crux to defeat her own mother? Or would she find some other way?

  Was there another way?

  No—she shook her head—not one she could think of.

  A brush of lavender scented wind crept its way up the hall, the breeze brushing her lightly, “Why so frightened?” a voice breathed after it.

  Kat bit her lip. With a tentative step, she followed the breeze as it left her.

  “You know, as well as I, that we are friends. Should friends not trust each other in all avenues?”

  Kat opened her mouth—Those were his exact words before we...

  “I'll treat you nicely...gently. Better than any man ever would. You can trust me, Katty.”

  She came to a door of dark oak. Placing her hand around its silver handle, she sighed as the breeze of lavender left her.

  You can trust me.

  “Is it
you?” she whispered, her forehead propped up against the door. “It can't be—why would it be?” Someone—something—had to be toying with her.

  Kat felt pressure against the door and backed away as it slowly creaked open. Placing a hand over her mouth, she gasped silently as her dark eyes widened. Her heart seemed to slow in her chest as her blood became ice.

  His calloused hand reached out to take hers, and with a swift brush he swatted the hand upon her lips away.

  “I—,” she swallowed—choking on her own words, “—I have a choice to make tonight.” she told him, eyes locked with his gaze. “Will you help me?”

  FIFTY-SIX

  The Night Lady would not let fate simply find her.

  She would find it. Stumble upon it. Chase it. She would catch it and force it to give her what she craved—what she deserved.

  How dare Gran cut her off from the Power's Crux! How dare she!

  Seraphina only had one option now. If she wanted to shed Ledora's human skin and become what she was once more—the Night Lady, a goddess in her own right—she'd need to steal Katell's soul and offer it to the Crux in sacrifice.

  Ultimate sacrifice.

  Seraphina felt her throat clench at that, as she knelt upon the ground, her hand flush against her deceased mother's forehead. She felt her stomach tighten as her mouth suddenly watered—could she kill her own daughter? Could she, truly? Did she possess the drive—the need to control Baate Noir—was it strong enough within her? Was she even connected to the forest as she once was?

  Seraphina cringed as she forced herself to stand, the wind whipping dead blades of grass into a shivering puddle at her feet. Ledora had chained her to this black forest as punishment for helping the elves and others. The White Rose believed Seraphina to be a race traitor. A woman unworthy of living among civilized beings.

  She could still remember Ledora sealing her soul to this land—making it impossible for her to ever venture north again.