Libera Me (Requiem Series)

by Fonseca, Christine

  I give in fully, allowing the kiss to deepen. Her lips part and our tongues explore the familiar memories we both share.

  I tremble as a wave of desire crashes into me.

  I kick the door closed, desperate to make this moment last an eternity. We make our way to the bedroom amid a sea of kisses. Every moment, every touch unleashes the memories of a love I can never release. Every kiss breathes in new life and old love. I belong to Nesy completely.

  I always have.

  Our hands explore each other as do our mouths. There is nothing we can do to stop ourselves now.

  And I don't want to.

  Our love explodes through us as my mind fills with only her—the vanilla scent I will never forget, the feel of her skin against mine, the taste of her lips.

  It’s Nesy.

  Only Nesy.

  Forever.

  I drift to sleep, Nessa still in my arms. A smile covers her mouth as she snuggles next to me. My mind clears, fading to black as exhaustion overtakes me. A quiet peace descends.

  But the peace is short lived.

  The blackness morphs and changes, turning from the familiar courtyard where we pledged our love to the war I long to forget.

  Mikayel’s sword points at my chest.

  Nesy screams.

  Azza slices through her.

  My body tightens. In my thoughts, I run for Nesy, catching her as she falls. Silver blood pours from her mouth, her chest, coating my hands.

  Her body trembles.

  She gasps for breath.

  Her eyes float back.

  No, I scream to myself. “No!” I can’t let her die again, can’t keep reliving the endless nightmare.

  I startle awake, tightening my hold on Nessa. Her body thins, changing from human to angelic to smoke. Flesh and bone melts into nothing as the dark vapor seeps away from my grasp. It floats above me, reforming into a black mass.

  Slowly it grows more substantive, taking on the shape of a body. A woman. The foul stench of rotting eggs and flesh fill my nostrils. The woman’s skin morphs from gold to a putrid yellow, as her eyes change from blue to black.

  I recoil from the scene and stand, pinching my skin.

  “Wake up.” I can’t tell if I’m awake or asleep.

  I look to the bed.

  Empty.

  The smoke-like mass continues to morph and change, forming into a girl with dark hair and blue eyes. Not the sparkling blue of Nesy’s, but something else. Something sinister. There is a yellow tinge to her skin as the last of the smoke dissipates.

  “Who are you?” I ask, still unsure whether or not I’m dreaming. “Where’s Nesy?”

  “I am that which owns you now.” The voice is neither male nor female. It resonates through me, more a thought than anything else.

  “Where’s Nesy?” I ask again. “I won’t let you take her.”

  “I cannot take what was never here,” the voice says, laughing.

  The smoke-girl walks towards me. She opens her mouth and a thick, black fog flows from her toward me. I breathe it in, feeling it coat my senses.

  All at once my marks spring to life, catching fire. I scream and my throat fills with the murky vapors. Coughing and sputtering, I shove against my own instincts, desperate to end what must be a nightmare.

  “You’re mine now, Aydan of the UnHoly. You will always be mine.”

  Familiar pangs of the Beast roar to life, pulling on me, desperate to obey the master commanding it.

  “Azza,” I spit.

  Laughter fills the air as I pull myself from the dregs of sleep.

  “Wake up,” I scream. “This isn’t real.”

  “Oh, but it is. More real than you could ever know.”

  New images take shape around me.

  Nesy’s death as I kiss her, sucking her soul and claiming it for Azza.

  War with the angels.

  And the same smoky girl, fading into a thick, black haze, the stench of her surrounding me.

  “No!” The scream rips from my throat and I startle awake.

  Sweat dots my brow. My breath comes too fast. I sit up and my mind spins along with the room, tossing my stomach and churning up the bile until I know I must empty it. I struggle to my feet and race to the bathroom. Pouring myself into the basin, I wait for my world to stop, wait for the dream, the nightmare, to clear.

  Again I empty myself, heaving over and over. Every fear, every pain flows from me into the sink. My knees shake. My hands tremble.

  “Help me,” I whisper. “Please.”

  In a moment the world slows.

  The vertigo clears.

  I force a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. My hand turns the faucet, allowing cold water to clean the sink, my hands, my soul.

  I take another deep breath.

  And another.

  “Relax,” I say more than once. “It was only a dream.”

  A dream.

  I lift my head, staring at the foggy mirror. Wiping away the moisture, I catch a glimpse of the reflection greeting me—pale, hollow skin, bat-like wings that stretch out behind me, angry Celtic marks woven in a noose around my neck.

  I count each line, refusing to acknowledge the truth reflecting back to me.

  One...

  Two...

  Three...

  Four...

  I don’t want to continue counting, the image too horrific to admit.

  Five...

  No fills my thoughts. It can’t be.

  Six.

  The marks are complete.

  The Beast has returned.

  In me.

  Chapter 12 – MEMORIES

  Aydan

  My eyes slam shut. “No!” I scream. The walls tremble and I shake my head, forcing the images, the feelings, to dissipate. “No.”

  My heart beats wildly and I attempt to control the panic spreading through me. I am not the Beast. The ritual wasn’t completed. Nesy saved me that day.

  Or did she?

  Slowly, I open my eyes, afraid of what I might find. My face is familiar and decidedly human. My marks are no longer angry, no longer burning through me. I run my fingers across each one, tracing the lines.

  1...2...3...

  The pattern no longer hurts. Vengeance and evil no longer boil through me.

  4...5...

  There are only five marks.

  Five.

  I push around my skin, searching; I have to be certain.

  Nothing.

  No final mark.

  I release the breath I’ve held too long, stretching my neck, shoulders, back. Things are exactly as they should be.

  It was a dream. A nightmare.

  Nothing more.

  I walk back to the room, ready to embrace the life I’ve been searching for, a life with Nessa. But the bed is empty; any trace of Nessa, gone.

  “Nessa?” I call as I search the small apartment. “Nessa?”

  Only silence fills the space.

  —why did you leave?

  I replay the nightmare in my mind, remembering every detail:

  Smoke consumes Nesy, Nessa, turning her into someone else.

  Pain overwhelms my senses as my marks spring to life and I count a truth that turned out to be an illusion.

  An empty bed greets me in the morning.

  The dream feels real.

  Too real.

  Determined, my mind racing, I dress for school. My insides burn, along with the skin around my markings. I’m weak, confused. I splash water on my face, hoping to focus my thoughts and find Nessa. But my mind betrays me, shifting to another need, something more basal, something I will never do again.

  Feed.

  I speed to school, allowing the wind that rips through me to clear my thoughts. Too many nightmares about that life have left me imaging the worst. I know I’m nothing more than human now, know that the thoughts and visions are pure fiction. But still, a part of me wonders…

  Could this be real?

  I shake
my head and settle my mind as I park the bike. The school is crowded. The bell for first period rings. Three more days until another school year ends. Nessa and I agreed we’d go to the party after graduation, one last moment of school.

  Forever.

  The thought is strange to me. I've attended high schools for more than three centuries. Leaving now, allowing my life to move forward, seems foreign. Undeserved.

  Yet, a life with Nessa, a normal human existence, is exactly what I crave. A chance to marry, have kids, live with no thoughts of demons and evil. No need for vengeance or to feed.

  A life without the Beast.

  Just a simple human existence

  Is it even possible now?

  More memories of the last few days unleash through me and I know the answer—my life will never be normal; not with these thoughts, these memories.

  I make my way through the crowd, searching for Nessa.

  Nessa.

  I’ve been trying to force her memories back, never thinking what that could mean for her—memories of the sacrifices she made, the deaths she’s endured. I can’t force her to remember such pain. I won’t.

  I wander toward class, lost in my thoughts. First period passes with no signs of Nessa. I grab my phone, texting her. Why did she run off again? What’s happening?

  Once again a gnawing hunger claws at my soul, reaching up from the depths. I refuse to give into it, refuse to even acknowledge what it means. The bell rings and I walk to the next class.

  And the next.

  Nessa still isn’t here. Has she not come to school? Is she in danger?

  I mindlessly make my way through the day, oblivious to the students crowding around me. Or the stench of death that slowly invades my senses.

  Looking down the hall, I watch the other kids chat and laugh. The wall begins to ripple and move. The muscles across my back and shoulders tighten. My pulse begins to race and more than once I catch shadows moving in my peripheral vision.

  Shaking my head, I push my way to the end of the hall. The corridor darkens as unexpected clouds swirl and blacken outside. A loud clap of thunder follows a flash of lightening and the students scream, startled.

  Laughter and screams alternate as more thunder rattles the building.

  I ignore it all, my focus attuned only to the overwhelming scent of ash bombarding my senses and the walls that continue to ripple.

  My skin erupts in gooseflesh and I stop, getting bumped as students rush in from the rain that has unleashed outside.

  Azza.

  It’s the only thought in my head. I turn, feeling the chill of the Dark One on my neck.

  But it isn’t Azza that greets me. It’s a sight I don’t expect, one that shouldn’t be here.

  Black hair.

  Pale skin.

  Ghostly green eyes.

  I blink once, twice, three times.

  Lorelei.

  It could be her save for the black hair. But she can’t be here. It’s impossible. She’s dead. I killed her.

  The girl raises her hand, pointing at me. My eyes focus in on the winged charm around her neck, an exact match to the one I just gave to Nessa.

  Lorelei’s necklace.

  Sharp nails dig into my skin as I try to force myself out of the dream, the hallucination. But the girl won’t leave. She opens her mouth, unleashing a scream that makes my blood run cold.

  Her eyes focus past me and I spin to see what she’s pointing at, why she’s screaming. The students keep laughing and walking, oblivious to the silent hell unfolding around me, oblivious to the girl’s screams.

  She walks to me, her mouth posed in a silent scream. Grabbing my arm, she pleads. “Help me,” she says between screams. “I’m not her. Tell them I’m not her.”

  “Lorelei?” I whisper. “But you’re dead.”

  “Not her,” she says louder. Her body trembles as her eyes widen with fright. “Tell them.” She digs her nails into my arms.

  I don’t wake from the dream.

  Pushing her away, I take a step back and bump into someone.

  “Dude! Watch out, would you?”

  I don’t know who speaks. Don’t care.

  The girl turns impossibly pale, translucent. I almost expect her to fade away, proof that she’s nothing more than an apparition.

  Instead she fingers her necklace and mumbles a prayer. She looks so much like Lorelei. All at once my mind unleashes the guilt of Lori’s death.

  I taste her soul in my mouth, hear Nesy’s screams as Lori dies in my arms.

  “No,” I yell to the girl. I won’t be tricked by ghosts that don’t exist. “No! You’re dead. Dead!”

  I turn and run.

  Chapter 13 – Sanctus

  Zane

  I lean against the lockers, the cold metal biting into my skin. Students shove past me, through me. Loud claps of thunder rattle the doors and walls, causing startled screams from the throng of kids.

  Drawing a stiff breath, I stretch my shoulders and back, desperate to quell the apprehension that seems to define me now.

  I never should have looked into Nesy’s mind, never should have made that deal with the demonic smoke.

  Memories of last night flit through my mind, taunting me:

  Her eyes as they met mine.

  The empty spaces in her thoughts, forgotten pieces of her past, her present.

  The demonic smoke’s threatening visions.

  I release the breath, wishing for a calm that won’t come. I slam the locker, unnoticed by the crowd. Good. I have no desire to be found now.

  By anyone.

  What to do? What to do? I don’t know how to proceed. Cass doesn’t believe Nesy and the girl are the same. No one on the Council does.

  But if she isn’t Nesy, who is she? Definitely not human, that much is certain.

  The crowd thins as the bell rings, signaling the start of another class.

  Where are you?

  An indigo light coalesces in front of me as the hall empties. Cass steps from the brilliance, her indigo-tinted wings reflecting the brief flashes of lightning and sending shards of light bouncing off of the walls.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” she says.

  “I haven’t wanted to be found,” I say as I turn away from her. I’m not ready for another Cass-lecture.

  “How are you?” Cass touches my shoulder.

  I shake her off and face her. “How do you think?” I say, unable to hide the frustration from my voice. Not wanting to.

  “Zane, I get your anger. I do. But you need to let it go, now.” Cass’s arm drops to her side. “Let her go.”

  “Save it, Cass. I’m not going to, not until I find her and see for myself that she’s okay.”

  “So you’re finally admitting that the girl isn’t her?”

  Her words drill into my heart, exposing my doubts. I don’t know what to think about the girl. “I’m not saying that.”

  “No?”

  “I’ll admit that Vanessa isn’t acting like Nesy. And I’ll admit that you and the Council have a right to be concerned. But we both know that girl is more than she appears. And I think we need to find out what she is before we assume it’s not Nesy.”

  Cass glares at me. “And before we assume she is!”

  I release an exasperated sigh. Why doesn’t anyone care what happened to Nesy? Why doesn’t anyone seem as concerned as I am about the smoke and what it may or may not have actually done?

  “Look,” Cass says. “Let Caim investigate this. He’s the best one to determine the truth.”

  “That idiot? If he’s so good, why isn’t he here?”

  “Maybe he is.”

  “I would’ve seen him.” I shake my head in frustration and take a few steps away. “Why do you trust him so much, Cass?” I ask over my shoulder. “Especially after Lori?”

  “Because of her. He has something to prove. And he isn’t emotionally involved in this, not like you. And…” Cass hesitates. The air thickens.

  “
What?” I say as I turn and face her.

  “And he’s skilled at sensing the Dark One.”

  My muscles stiffen. “Meaning I’m not.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, but you thought it. Everyone thinks it.”

  I turn away, unable to bear the pity I see in her eyes. I’m tired of being treated like an invalid, a damaged toy to be tossed aside. I am a still an angel. Still a Mediator.

  I can still calm the mind and heal memories. I can still direct thoughts and feed logic.

  I.

  Am.

  Not.

  Broken.

  “I don’t care what you all think anymore. You’re wrong. That girl is the key—to what I can’t be certain. But she is important to all of us. And Caim is never going to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Zane, you’re being ridiculous. The Council—”

  “Has been wrong before. Mikayel and Azza. Nesy and Aydan. They’re refusal to see the truth in things has resulted in this stupid war in the first place.”

  “Zane! You’re sounding just like Nesy.”

  “Well, she was right. I only wish I had realized it in the beginning.” Thunder fills the gaps between our words. “I won’t let her down again,” I mumble.

  “What are you planning?”

  Silence spreads between us, punctuated with flashes of light from the storm raging outside.

  “Zane?”

  Cass follows me down the hall and again places a hand on my shoulder. I won’t let her heal me now.

  “Zane?” she whispers. She closes her eyes and drops her head. “You’re going to find her, aren’t you?”

  More silence.

  “You can’t. It’s too risky.”

  “I must.” I say as I pull away.

  I must.

  I turn the corridor. Cass doesn’t follow this time. A bell tolls and students again fill in the tight hallway. My senses heighten to full alert. I stop, allowing people to walk through me.

  Every nerve begins to tingle and I close my eyes. My ears pick up every change around me. The way the students’ footsteps fall in unison with one another after a few steps. The groaning of the walls as they shift with each burst of thunder and drop of rain. The timber of each sound is unique. As are the scents that invade my nostrils. Sweat, pheromones, perfume—they mix and swirl, forming their own signature.