Beneath the Shadows of Evil... Treasured

by Jolynn Raymond

  “Mikhalen, I have told you that you are to knock before entering. Your presence is always welcome, but the manner in which you presented yourself will not be allowed. Apologize to your mother at once.”

  Mikhal clearly saw the demon just under the surface in his son’s eyes, and he hoped that speaking to Alliana would calm the boy. His mother had a way of gentling the soul. She’d done wonders on him, and he hoped her influence would soothe the boy now.

  Young Mikhalen’s hands fisted at his sides, and then unclenched. It was true that his rage often dissipated in the presence of his mother. Her kind and nurturing ways did much to chase his beast away. To please her and see her smile meant so very much, but right now he was so conflicted, and only his father could understand how he felt. Still, he knew he must make things right with his mother.

  “I’m sorry mama. I... I was upset with Jonas, and have come to seek father’s advice. Please forgive my manners.”

  “Of course Mika. Come give me a kiss.” Alliana held out her arms to the boy she loved so dearly and yet often didn’t truly understand. He was maturing, and coming with his increased years came tribulations. Twas bad enough when a boy began struggle with his changing body and feelings, but her son had dilemmas no mortal child would ever experience.

  Mikhalen went into his mother’s open arms and kissed her cheek, then buried his face in her long hair, breathing in her scent, letting her essence soothe the demon that was clamoring inside. As always, he heard her heartbeat, knew of the hot blood flowing in her veins, but this time his demon suddenly reacted with fury, craving that which it was denied. The beast in him surged up with an almost overwhelming desire to sink his fangs deep in his mother’s throat and drink his fill, heedless of who she was and what she meant to him.

  Horrified, he cried out and ripped himself from her arms, startling Alliana. His father came forward and quickly grabbed hold of him, providing Mikhalen with a shred of safety in his deep despair. Only his father would be able to restrain him if his beast rushed forward and tried to hurt his maman.

  “Mikhalen, what is it?” Mikhal looked in the eyes of his son and the torment he saw laying within nearly broke his heart. The demon was battling the will of the boy, and it was a battle Mikhal remembered all too vividly, one he still engaged in from time to time.

  “Father, I..” Mikhal shook his head, his eyes pleading for help, the horror of his thoughts about his mother’s blood still making him reel with self-loathing.

  Alliana stood, knowing something was deeply wrong with her son, but also knowing she couldn’t help him. Instinct told her not to approach her child to kiss him goodbye. His thoughts of feeding upon her were of course not known to Alliana, but something in his gaze spoke of his need to be far away from her.

  “I think I’ll take a walk in the courtyard. Tis a beautiful day and the sun will be gone soon.” The routine they had fallen into in the castle was one that meshed the human and vampire world. It was the norm for the family to sleep until early afternoon. That way Alliana could enjoy daylight for a time period and provide Mikhal the time he needed each night to take care of things in the castle when his minions were awake. It was a compromise that worked well, there lives divided into almost equal parts of day and night.

  Mikhal moved away from Mikhalen to give Alliana a quick embrace. He too was ignorant of the boy’s horrific thoughts, but he sensed in him a need to avoid touching his mother. When Alliana had gone, the chamber door closing behind her and giving father and son the privacy they needed, Mikhal put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him to the chair before the hearth.

  “What troubles you Mika? I can see you are very distressed.” He was all too familiar with the inner battle his son had to wage, and his growing maturity wasn’t helping him cope at all. If anything the urges that came with growing older were causing an even greater battle to rise up inside the boy.

  Mikhalen stayed silent for a minute as he stared into the fire. How could he tell his father what was happening inside? How he felt drawn to the portrait of his aunt, the one no one would speak of, how he had vivid dreams of blood and terror that only whet his appetite to live what his mind conjured, and how could he tell his father that the demon inside him had lusted after his own mother’s blood just a moment ago?

  “Mikhalen, what did Jonas do that made you so angry. Your demon was barely concealed when you entered. It’s still fighting for dominance even now. What happened?”

  “It wasn’t just Jonas. Papa there is so much. I ... Will you tell me of my aunt Marishka?”

  The request surprised Mikhal. It had been a long time since his son had begged for information about her. Perhaps he was old enough now to know the truth. It might aide him in controlling his demon to know what could come of giving it free rein.

  “Marishka was my sister as you know, and we had a happy childhood, she was spoilt as was I, but then everything changed one night.” Mikhal related the story of how he and Marishka had been turned, how she’d suffered abuse that drove her insane, how she loved him in a way a brother and sister shouldn’t, but also how he craved her in return. He told Mikhalen of their demented ways, the horror they inflicted, and of what they had done to Alliana when she’d first been brought to the castle. He told the boy it all, the scheming, the degradation, the pain, the spell, as his son sat quietly, staring into the flames, taking it all in, neither nodding or speaking, and he finished with how Mikhal’s own mother had killed Marishka in the end to save Katia.

  “Maman killed her?” Try as he might, Mikhalen had trouble grasping the idea of his gentle mother murdering his aunt.

  “Yes she did. She saved herself and Katia.”

  “And you were once like Marishka? You lusted and fed on terror, you hurt people and were glad for it?”

  Mikhal’s mouth became a thin line as he remembered all the horrid and cruel acts he had bestowed on the humans around him, especially on his wife.

  “Yes. They called me Mikhal the Merciless. My name induced terror for miles around. I never suppressed my demon self, never gave a care. I fed on terror and pain. It was your mother who changed that and made me the man I am today.”

  “The spell.”

  Mikhal stood, agitated. Alliana had long come to know that the spell cast upon him by Marishka had not made him love his wife, but it still aggravated him when someone suggested that was the reason.

  “The spell allowed me to feel the pain I inflicted. It made known to me the terror and sorrow I made your mother feel. When I saw myself through her eyes I didn’t like the man she thought I was, the man she knew I was. So I changed. It wasn’t what made me love your mother though. That came from inside me. It came from our mating, and from the goodness she graced upon me. It made me need to be a better man. And when you and your sister were born, the love inside me filled me with happiness. Nothing I did as a demon gave me as much joy as the love I feel for you, Katia, and your mother.”

  “I love maman as well, but I... father, what I feel inside me isn’t... I’m not as strong as you. There is a part of me that wants to harm those around me, that wants to be like you were, like Aunt Marishka was. I crave those things, the terror and pain. Father I need them.”

  “No, Mikhalen, you must fight your beast.” Mikhalen opened his mouth to protest but Mikhal held up his hand. “There are other paths to happiness, son. We are not evil.”

  Mikhalen shot out of his chair, knocking it back, his face a mask of pain and rage. “You are not evil but I am. I am! Father this is killing me.”

  “Mikhalen don’t say such a thing. I know it’s hard, truly I do. I must fight each day to be the man I am in your mother’s eyes.”

  “NO! You don’t understand. I have dreams. Wonderful awful, bloody dreams that make me crave what it is I live without. I am happiest when I am asleep and can live the life I was meant to live.”

  “You are not evil!”

  “I am. I am! I wanted to feed upon my own mother when she held me in her arms today. H
ow can you tell me I’m not evil when I wanted to tear her throat out? I didn’t want to just feed, father; I wanted to hurt her. My own maman!”

  The boy’s admission stunned Mikhal. For a moment he was at a loss for words. How could he make things right for the boy? How could he stop the urges that were going to drive him as mad as Marishka had been?

  “But you resisted. The good in you would never allow such a thing.”

  “But I wanted to. I wanted to!” Mikhalen put his head in his hands, covering his face, trying to mask his shame, and even now, with all the guilt he felt inside, all his demon felt was rage at being made to live a lie.

  “How do you make the need go away? Surely you feel it. How could you have lived a hundred years as a demon and be content to live now as a man?”

  “I love your mother. It makes me strong.”

  “No! You have to feel it. I know you must feel it. Even when I push my beast away it’s still there. It gives me no peace. Father I can’t deny it forever.”

  Mikhal looked at his son, and felt the pain of his torment stab his heart. It wasn’t that he could feel him like he’d done with the empathy spell; it was because he had lived the same battle, in fact still lived the same battle from time to time. If it weren’t for the occasional torturing of a minion for crimes against him or Alliana, Mikhal wasn’t sure how he would suppress his rage indefinitely. He had an out and he knew it.

  Every once in a while he was free to let loose his demon and it never gave him pause because it was justified. His purpose in life was to protect his family, and anyone who threatened them or their livelihood was disposed of in a manner that quenched the thirst of the demon inside him, but his method of quelling his demon did nothing to help Mikhalen, so what was he to do? What of Mikhalen?

  Mikhalen didn’t have an outlet, nor did he have an empathy spell to help him understand what feelings were all about. What could he do for Mikhalen? How could he help and mold the boy any more than he already had? They had brought him up to be loving and kind, but the beast in his child would never accept his passive and humane ways. What could he do to make Mikhalen strong and content, for a boy who had to battle himself day in and day out would never be truly happy.

  Mikhal ran his options through his head. He could allow the boy to torment and torture those who did deeds against their Master. He could allow him to be more violent when he fed, to try and appease his demon, but Alliana would be horrified at the idea. He ... what could he do? Perhaps Natalya would have a spell. They could be tricky and it wasn’t wise, but the boy was suffering and he would become more dangerous the older he became. Katia would be home in two years time, and she would have her magick for protection, but the thought of one child having to harm the other to save herself, horrified him. He had to find a way to silence Mikhalen’s beast.

  “Mika, I have no easy answer for you, but I cannot allow you to cause terror upon others. It would break your mother’s heart. Give me a bit of time. That’s all I ask. I will find a way to stop the war inside you, but I need time. Do your best to be the person your mother and I raised you to be. Try, Mikhalen. I will help you, but you must try.”

  Mikhalen silently nodded, feeling for all the world that his father had let him down. He would try to quell the beast, but he could make no promises. He was the child of his parents, but he was also the blood of his Aunt Marishka, and in her veins the lust for terror and pain had flowed. So help him he would try, for his family, but the demon would not go softly. It would roar and fight with every ounce of strength to get its way, and Mikhalen was afraid it would win.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Just as Mikhalen grew towards maturity, so did Katia, though her life was vastly different. It wasn’t that she wanted for anything, or that the life in a Gypsy clan denied her the pampered lifestyle of growing up in the castle, it was the freedom obtained by being out from behind the castle walls, freedom that was hers because of who she was. Freedom not afforded the other girls. Just as her mother before her, Katia was the clan’s Golden Child and therefore she was special and revered.

  As Mikhalen was suffocating under the shackles put on his demon, Katia grew and thrived in a world where wanderlust was a part of life. She had her mother’s soul, relishing her time spent roaming the forests, running through meadows, the wind in her hair, exploring her often changing world without fear because her magick protected her from things others would fall prey to. Life in the castle would have been rich in silks and leisure, but life as a magickal Gypsy was a never ending journey of adventure.

  Though she was made to stay in camp for hours a day under the instruction of Sabina, and had chores that were expected of her, she still had time to be free. From the beginning she was treated differently. There were no fears that Katia would be whisked away, she held powers and was the daughter of the most feared Lord in the land. All around knew whose child she was. She looked so very like her mother, and her father was the one who held the upper hand over all of the places her clan traveled.

  When she had first come to live with her mother’s family, there had been a quiet resistance from some. Her father was hated, he was responsible for the loss of Alliana, Natalya, and Danior, but in time the sweetness of the girl won over their hearts. She was after all; their Golden Child and her presence did provide them with riches and save them from persecution even before the use of magick.

  She tended to her studies with Sabina with much care and had a knack for magick that her mother never possessed. This too helped endear her to her clan. Sabina taught her all and she flourished with each lesson. The Gypsy talents of being a Seer, the use of herbs both medicinally and for spells, and of course the control and meaning of the powers that had been bestowed upon her, all came to her naturally.

  Katia was a good girl. She took to heart Sabina’s warnings that magick wasn’t something to be toyed with. She used her powers for the good of her clan, helping them find safety during the times of peril in an age when conflict and bloodshed were a commonality, but refrained from using them for personal gain. Magick has consequences Sabina always said time and time again, and Katia heeded her warning. Along with schooling Katia in the ways of her gift, Sabina kept to her word and spoke of the girl’s parents and the human and vampire history of her father. Katia loved her parents dearly, and missed them so much her heart ached in the quiet moments every night before she fell asleep. While it was true she saw them often enough, and that Sabina and her grandparents provided the nurturing and love that made her life so full, she missed her papa’s strong arms and ready laugh, and her maman’s smile. The times they spent with her were the happiest in Katia’s life. Never did she feel truly removed from them, even as she became fully acclimated to life as a Gypsy.

  On her brother, she didn’t dwell. She bore the scar upon her face that was a reminder of why she was living away from the castle. She missed him as well and held no malice towards him. He was her twin, her other half, and it pained her that he wouldn’t come with her parents to visit her, but inside she held a deep understanding of why Mikhalen couldn’t bear to. She was a reminder of the part of him that was wild and demonic.

  All in all her life was a happy one. She had never been overly spoilt when she had lived in the castle, and she had been so very young when she came to the Gypsy camp, so what was lacking in material things never concerned her. The laws she obeyed were the Gypsy laws, their traditions became hers, she strived every day to please her grandparents and Sabina, and yet there was a place inside of her that held tight to her other heritage as well.

  Trouble didn’t cast a shadow on Katia’s life, her upbringing never causing strife, her uniqueness never making waves with either her parents or the clan, until her friends began to marry. It was tradition for girls to marry young, those as young as eleven were sometimes betrothed. Marriage offered protection, stability, and kept the clan strong, but marriage was not for Katia. Her father prohibited it. When she was a girl of eleven she had no interest in boys, but as
she aged, her desire to be a wife like the others, to have a husband, as was tradition, increased tenfold. She didn’t view marriage as something to suffocate her wild ways. She was far too special for that and all knew it, she simply saw it from the eyes of a young girl who wanted to be like all the girls around her despite being different.

  When she was on the verge of her fourteenth birthday, all of the girls she had grown up with were married, some had babes, all were busy with the tasks required to keep a home. This pained Katia deeply, for while she enjoyed her freedom, she felt as if she was still thought of as a child. Wives and mothers were not children, but Katia was neither. Sabina and her grandparents explained to her time and again that her parents had forbidden her to be wed and that soon she would be returning to them to live in the castle. The knowledge was a balm to her disquiet, and she went along with mostly quiet acceptance, but all that changed in the blink of an eye.

  Emillian was a boy a few years older than she. They had grown up together in as much as males and females interacted, and Katia had never given him much thought. True she looked at the young men of the clan, she imagined being a wife, she wished for a wagon and family of her own, but her eyes were always clouded by her father’s decree. She was not to be married, period.

  As she was returning from gathering wood, not minding where she was going, hardly able to see over the bundle in her arms, daydreaming, as young girls are wont to do, she literally ran into him, causing her to drop her hard found branches and fall back onto her bottom. Emillian himself was shaken up by the collision. A branch from Katia’s bundle scrapped his cheek and he stumbled back into a tree a harsh word upon his lips for the oaf who wasn’t watching where he was going, but all that was forgotten as he looked upon Katia sprawled on the ground before him. Her skirts were up exposing her sleek calves, her cheeks were stained crimson with the flush of embarrassment, and the spark of irritation lit her eyes, eyes that were as deeply green as the trees around her.