Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  Tanner carried me out of the chamber and made his way to another room two doors down. The space we had entered cast a muted yellow-orange glow while steady whiffs of steam moistened the air. The room’s warm temperature and yo-yoing radiance roused a soothing feeling all on its own. A long table sat in the center of the shifting haze, smothered with smooth red stones and positioned over a field of glowing lava rocks.

  Tanner nodded to the stony bed. “That’s jasper.”

  “Doesn’t that contain a lot of iron?” I posed. Like I needed any more, and it was red jasper. Red, of all colors. Any earth stone that claimed even the tiniest speck of the hue was tainted with the draining metal to some degree…and these were drenched in it too.

  “Yes, but its effects have been reversed,” he assured. “Think of it like a hot stone massage. When you lay on the red jasper, it will pull all the remnants of the iron’s energy from your muscles. After ten or fifteen minutes, you’ll feel as light as a cloud. I swear.”

  I was up for anything at this point. I nodded, eager to give him permission.

  Tanner smiled and laid me on the table, positioning me to where I was sitting upright. His eyes swept me from neck to toe. “The jasper needs to make a connection with your skin.”

  My cheeks warmed, but it wasn’t from a single drop of the sultry air wafting around us. Trying to dampen my stirring emotions was hard enough, so I immediately started praying that the half-light glimmering in the room would mask my feverish physical state. I smiled and nodded to him again. My heart lifted in a breathless flutter no sooner than his hands had locked around my first closed button. I could suffer through more than a few daily beatings knowing this kind of attention was waiting around the corner. Abso-freakin’-lutely.

  “This is kind of strange,” I remarked, trying my best to suppress a creeping grin. “I’ve never actually been awake when my clothes are coming off.”

  Tanner stopped unbuttoning. “Oh, that didn’t sound the least bit rapey.”

  “Sorry,” I laughed and bit down on my lip. My out-loud acknowledgement may have been a major “my bad”, but hey, it was still the truth.

  He may have resumed my disrobing by helping me peel out of my shirt, but it was painfully awkward. You would have thought the little girl had just asked him where babies came from.

  Tanner nodded to my knit camisole and jeans. “I think you can manage the rest, once enough of the iron has drained from your arms.” He rose to his feet and headed for the door. “I won’t have Silas serve lunch without you.” And with that, he closed the door.

  I lay back on the table, shaking my head. Let that be a lesson for me to keep my mouth shut.

  Yet another one of my mentor’s claims proved as on the money as the rest. I hopped off the table twenty minutes later, completely stripped of the iron’s sluggish hold and feeling fully reenergized. I actually felt better than after my shower this morning, and that invigorating sanctuary had eight body sprays revving my muscles into gear. I gave my new best friend a couple of grateful pats and headed up to my room to freshen up for lunch.

  As starving as what I was when I did finally hit the dining room, I ended up just picking at my sandwich and totally avoided the creamy soup Silas had prepared. That’s where I suspected the loogie had been donated, though the house steward’s brainwaves weren’t saying much. I erred on the side of caution when he’d presented my bowl so cheery. In my eyes, that was a big fat tell. Then again, it could have been a clever ruse. Either way, he couldn’t pull that crap again at dinner, I didn’t think. He’d caught me pressing on my stomach trying to tame its rumbles. He knew I was hungry. Surely he doesn’t want me to starve. He feeds the freaking monsters for cryin’ out loud. There had to be some mercy hiding in that hard shell of his SOMEWHERE.

  The conversation during lunch felt as stiff as the meal. Instead of exchanging any typical table-time chitchat, Tanner went over my schedule at length. The vibe boomed like a business meeting. Considering how thoroughly it had been structured, I was surprised he didn’t have a typed up version to hand to me — until I was issued one, courtesy of the house steward’s hands.

  My mouth slipped into a knowing grin as I eyed its particulars. As rigidly detailed as what it had been laid out by the “professor”, any breaks during the day would have to be negotiated — even for a trip to the bathroom. My mornings would be filled with numerous lectures about stones and their lore, instruction in alchemy and spells, Latin lessons (of course), and plenty of reading about monsters, magic, and all things related to The Veil. The real fun commenced after lunch, when his instruction turned more physical. Tanner planned on making sure I was thoroughly trained in using all the weapons stocked in his arsenal and then onto battling and banishing monsters every afternoon — followed by my daily beating from my new coach, of course. He couldn’t leave out that sparkly little gem.

  I laid the schedule down on the table. “Got it,” I announced.

  “Good,” Tanner beamed. “That starts first thing in the morning. Though I think we can hold off on any more monsters . . . at least for a week or two, considering you’ve already faced three in just a little over twenty-four hours.”

  “And tallied four beatings.” I raised my water goblet towards Silas, giving him his props.

  Tanner shifted his stare between the two of us. With both of us feeling the heat from his magnifying glass, we each swiftly changed course and extended one another overly affectionate smiles. That was the only thing we had managed to coordinate without conflict to date — covering the scent of our warpath.

  He brushed off our cheeky exchange and continued, “That’s true, so we’ll spend the rest of today down in the library.”

  “No weapons?” I posed.

  “Not unless you want to add a diagonal line to those vertical hatches you’ve racked up. I think something less physical might be the wisest choice,” he stressed.

  I took a purposeful drink of water, hoping to wash way the fragile-flower aftertaste I’d detected. I shrugged my shoulders. “If you say so,” I replied with a dash of brazen. “The teacher knows best.”

  The muscles in Tanner’s jaw tightened. As soon as the clamp of his mouth matched the crinkle seizing eyes, he knew there was no getting out of the web I’d spun.

  “All right,” he conceded, completely faking his discord. “I’ll take you to the vault. We’ll start in there . . . Are you happy now?”

  Ha! I should be asking you that, I grinned and rallied a couple innocent nods.

  Tanner made a beeline for the chamber after lunch. I knew this was where he’d really wanted to spend the afternoon, and being the obliging professor that he was, he even asked me where I wanted him to start. I’d never been much of an archer. In fact, the only arrow I’d ever shot was out of a crossbow, so that’s what I chose and then off we headed towards the line of countless long and recurve bows. I sure did learn a lot. The main thing shooting a bow taught me was that I sucked at it — royally, in fact. Shooting a gun and shooting an arrow were two completely different animals, like commanding a dog to go fetch verses a rabid timber wolf. About the thirty-seventh time of missing my target, the old saying, “Can’t pour piss out of a boot without instructions on the heel” was ringing painfully true. If my stance wasn’t too rigid, then my arm wasn’t steady enough. My sighting was just plain old awful. And after countless complaints about my weak pullback, I ended up snapping the bowstrings completely off when I drew the daggone thing back way too hard. Thankfully I hadn’t permanently damaged any of the Veil-blessed devices (I’d broken a total of four). Tanner assured me that he could restring them. How embarrassing. I’d rerouted my lessons hoping to impress him with something he loved. This penny wasn’t casting the first shine, even after an entire afternoon of practicing. I felt like tossing myself back in the change bucket to rot with rest of the corroded bottom-dwellers. Apparently foot-in-mouth disease didn’t stop at words. It came back to bite in the form of actions equally as hard.

  Good
thing my raging appetite helped me not to brood over my humiliation for too long. I was so famished by the time our evening meal rolled around that I couldn’t have cared less how many times I’d missed earlier or if Silas had tainted every crumb on my plate. I ate everything he placed in front of me, all five courses from my watercress salad straight through my tiramisu. Thank goodness Tanner had such a titanic sweet tooth. Sinfully-rich treats would cap off every supper, rest assured. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about indulging. I would either be working it off or having it beat out me. Either way, I viewed it as a total victory for my jeans.

  Tanner whisked me off to his study afterwards for some poker. I, having played since kindergarten, was totally up for it too. That enthusiasm left the building quicker than Elvis — when I discovered how good he was. HE NEVER LOST A HAND, no matter what kind we played — Texas Hold ‘Em, 7-Card Stud, 5-Card Draw, not even a few rounds of daggone pity Blackjack. I simply couldn’t beat him! That came as a jaw-dropping shocker considering how long I’d been playing and knowing I was actually pretty damn good. I could even count cards to a certain extent (though I would never confess that one). My skills ran a close second to Samuel’s, and he was a certified “ACE”, especially when it came to his bluffs. Oh, and my surrogate father indulged in the covert strategy of “statistical numeric deduction” too. Who do you think schooled me? Thankfully we weren’t playing for real money. I would’ve had to slit my wrist right there at the table and coughed up a diamond the size of a tennis ball. Of course my inability to focus could have had a lot to do with the howling wind that was beating against the house and rattling the shutters, or possibly even the brutal pelts of pounding rain Lorelei had lent our after-dinner atmosphere. Her stormy performance was so provoking I thought about pitching some flowers out the window, but they were all boarded up as tight as a wedge, sniff-sniff. Mr. Cool-as-a-Cucumber sat playing his hands, unfazed and steadily laying down winning combinations. He assured me that she was just testing the limits of his wards. I hoped he’d fashioned his spell out of magic bricks for both our sakes. As many times as what the house had shaken already, come hell or high ocean water, that relentless witch was determined to tear them down.

  The day’s mental toll kicked in around ten-thirty, sending my tuckered out rear off to bed. Day two had come to an exhausting close and I still was nowhere closer to uncovering any of Tanner’s feelings. I’d really meant to give Katie a call, but I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone walk back up the stairs. Plus, trying to prop that fancy-handled contraption up to my head with its megaphone-sized ear and mouthpiece for one of our gabfests would have been more than a struggle — even for a supernatural.

  I pulled Daddy’s picture closest to my bed. It had been a while since I’d fallen asleep to the sight of his blue-green eyes; the same ones that filled my heart with love and encouragement, and that I still longed to make proud.

  “Tomorrow will be much better,” I yawned and tugged my blanket up to my neck. I settled into a comfy spot as my eyes drifted to a close.

  Yep. Tomorrow is the beginning of ten perfect weeks…

  CHAPTER 7

  Well, it wasn’t…not by a long shot.

  The week had started off good enough. Every morning after breakfast, Tanner and I would head downstairs for a five-hour stretch of lectures, reading, and hands-on magic. I was finally well on my way to learning everything about the supernatural world here and beyond The Veil—no-holds-barred—and as a bonus, I got to spend time with Tanner, all alone. And the Amethyst Talisman loved to talk. It was obvious why he had chosen “college professor” as his side-gig. Every topic was fascinating all on its own, but my mentor definitely had an engaging charm that made you hang on to his every word, like listening to a dreamy playlist of your all-time favorite songs. I could never get tired of hearing his voice.

  Well, unless he was fussin’ of course.

  Learning about gemstones was always first on the agenda. I loved being in the Hall of Totems (as Tanner called it). Its ambiance was a perfect blend of mystically-awesome and mesmerizingly-serene. I could lie on the floor for hours on end just to catch the dazzling, ever-changing light show. Tanner would bring up a new volume every day (starting with the A’s) that contained everything one needed to know about all the gemstones and their lore. He felt that a solid once-over would provide me with an excellent foundation for pulling memories from my stones. Since the diamond tended to only reveal things when it saw fit, I planned on drawing those from Bea’s golden topaz. My mentor’s theory was simple enough. If I let whatever information I was searching for envelope my mind first and then focused on Bea’s essence, her memories would emerge and in turn, supply all the answers I was seeking. The more I practiced, the easier it would be to summon swift and accurate details. But there in the midst of his straightforward strategy lay the gravest of problems. No sooner than I would concentrate on an unfamiliar gemstone and get a clear image of her face, the harder it was to focus on anything but her eyes when I’d run my diamond blade through her chest. The frustration I felt was bad enough, but it paled to the heart-rending pain thrust upon me — every single time I tried.

  Tanner sensed my struggle and did his damnedest to help me focus. Whenever I turned to an unfamiliar stone, he would point out the spot where its totem lay on the walls and then revealed the Talisman’s name and their gemstone’s element. Sometimes he asked me to tell him what their abilities were without feeding me any further information. The ones I didn’t know were supposed to serve as my starting point for pulling memories and still, NOTHING EVER CAME. No matter how hard I tried, my mind unfailingly kept drawing a complete blank. My heart had sadly erected a mental-roadblock and there was no steering my head around it. After numerous failed attempts, Tanner sat down beside me, linking his fingers with mine. The look clenching his eyes radiated the most welcome and unwavering confidence.

  “They’ll come — I promise,” Tanner vowed. The tender stroke he gave my jaw lifted my downhearted stare. His words couldn’t have blazed with more certainty if he’d stroked them onto a seam of coal with the tip of a fiery pen. Without a doubt, he was determined to put my worries to rest.

  I just wished I felt half as sure. Physical efforts and training aside, I had ten short weeks to consume a pile of books, remember a horde of monsters and their weaknesses, memorize ingredients, become proficient in casting spells, and learn everything I could about stones. All that knowledge alone could topple Mount Everest. If I couldn’t find a way to overcome my heart-stricken hurdle, I was in for some MAJOR studying.

  Supernatural SATs…only worse, I feared silently.

  Tanner spent a vast amount of time schooling me on creatures and their intricate mythology. He always made a point of mentioning when a particular beast was first encountered along with a list of its known weaknesses. Where The Darklands was constantly spawning old and new ones alike, Talismans had a duty to record every run-in: the whens and wheres, but most important, if the creatures had been killed, captured, or banished successfully. All the information was deemed indispensable for any future confrontations, hence the mile-long volumes of journals. I didn’t think I would ever stop feeling so overwhelmed by the quantity of books, let alone the number of monsters described on their pages. If I had a dollar for every entry they contained, my rear would be sitting prettier than Mike Riverside’s.

  He went over the three I’d already tangled with first. Saltwater was crippling to the imp (which I’d discovered by accident), though any Veil weapon would score its flesh quite easily. Aside from the problematic nature of its slippery scales, the imp’s surprising ability to grow and strengthen came from the blood it consumed. Apparently the little winged-devils craved the souls of babies and children—the blood of an innocent—and slaughtered hundreds at a time. And yes, virgins were included in that select category, which explained its souped-up form after feasting on me. Keeping my skin scratch-free would be an imperative advantage when it came to taming that particular b
east.

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes a little when Tanner described the balegore as a “modest” giant. The only thing modest about that thing was its diet of paltry chickens because it sure could have made a one-gulp meal out of me. Tanner equated my choice of tactics to a child receiving a round of shots — the quickest route to pissing it off. He advised that I abandon my thoughts of using any weapons and adhere to a more physical approach. He said, and I quote, “like kid gloves coating my fists”. That was where my conditioning would come into play. I didn’t care how much iron I pumped or how many of Silas’ pummels whipped me into shape. Nothing was going to make a dent. I couldn’t knock that thing down with a bulldozer leading my charge.

  Muscles — My ass! I secretly prayed it happened to catch a whiff its own breath…and passed out. I figured a little wishful thinking couldn’t hurt.

  My mentor claimed that the chimera wasn’t a dragon, though I seriously begged to differ. Anything sporting three heads, flapping wings, and could breathe fire was dragon enough in my book. Chimeras were intelligent, crafty, and above all extremely vicious. He vowed it would be my fiercest opponent, which was comforting in a bizarre sort of way since he hadn’t mentioned anything about the other two creatures yet. Whoever said my glass wasn’t half-full? Of course achieving that mindset was easy sitting all safe & cozy in a library. Chimeras were also very much immortal — undeniably a job for the oculus. So on the plus side, I had three pairs of eyes to choose from. Hopefully that would up my odds. Kamya had actually collected the one locked up here — around three-hundred years ago. Now that was downright alarming. Not seeing the light of day for THAT LONG? Without a doubt, that beasty mother would be looking for a till-the-death fight.

  There were basically two types of creatures — the mortal and the immortal. The immortal ones were direct descendants from The Darklands, born from humanity’s most wicked deeds. Their carnage littered the globe, written off as various unexplained phenomenon, random animal attacks, or disguised as natural catastrophes. Most of the creatures here were the same ones that had breached The Veil long ago, but there were plenty of newer ones that had found their own secret means of escape over the years. Then there were some that had been plucked out of their wasteland with a little help from witches drawing black magic straight from The Darklands in hopes of boosting their spells. It happened accidently for the most part, though a few evildoers had hauled some of their heinous-hides across on purpose. Regardless of their inbound route, the creatures here were smart enough to keep within the shadows, coming out purely to feed. That wouldn’t last long according to Tanner. They simply needed a powerful and sinister enough soul to coax them into the light without any threat. The only thing left would be unifying their numbers. That was the Onyx’s intent. The more creatures Talismans could send back, the safer our world would be now…and in the long run.