“Thank you,” Aiden said, addressing his retreating back.
She studied the room’s interior with absent curiosity. Her concern with the imminent arrival of the seer overrode her thoughts on the decor. However, the surreal interior still managed to capture her imagination.
Light gold bamboo paneling covered the spherical walls and ceiling. The handwoven, ornate Oriental rug appeared to be composed of silk. Indirect ceiling-mounted lamps provided illumination as soft as predawn light. At the center of the room, an array of red embroidered sitting-cushions surrounded a round, floor-height table. A jade bowl sat on the polished teak tabletop.
Aiden settled cross-legged onto one of the cushions.
The bowl was round and deep, carved from a piece of translucent green jade which had tiny gemstone inclusions that resembled pinprick stars set in a viridian sky. The carving of a bird, embossed with brilliant flaming colors, adorned the side.
Aiden leaned forward to get a closer look. She blinked and looked again when she recognized the decoration. Disbelief followed and then a feeling of divinity, the mind-blowing, powerful certainty that she’d just encountered something more than mundane. Her clarity and confidence weren’t rational but rather primal, rooted in an absolute conviction that she’d just received another sign.
The bird was a phoenix.
She touched the edge of the bowl. The gemstone inlay possessed a smooth, lustrous sheen that caused her fingertips to slide across the slick surface. She hesitated to pick it up, fearing slippery fingers or offense to Madame Ah-Loi. However, the compulsion to examine it got the better of her, and she carefully lifted the bowl and viewed the enameled carving.
The phoenix had a long neck, round head, and slender beak that terminated in a sharp tip. It was depicted with its back turned toward the viewer, wings spread in flight, the flaming plumage incandescent with brilliant shades of crimson, gold, and orange. Delicate swirls of fire followed the phoenix. It possessed undeniable beauty, delicate and elegant, fierce and fiery.
“The phoenix is the Chinese symbol of beauty, good luck, the Empress, and feminine energy,” a woman’s voice said, interrupting Aiden’s reverie.
She looked up to find an elderly Chinese lady standing in the doorway. “Madame Ah-Loi?” Aiden asked as she started to rise.
“Yes, and please, do not stand,” the lady replied with a kind smile. “I desire nothing more than to sit. I see you are admiring my bowl.”
“Yes, it’s very beautiful.” Blushing, Aiden immediately moved to return the jade bowl to its resting place, but Madam Ah-Loi held up her hand.
“You may examine it.” Ah-Loi’s almond-colored eyes shone with kindness and wisdom. The Asian woman possessed gray hair worn in a bun, and she wore a pale green robe of silk, long-sleeved and hand embroidered with tiny flowers. The seer embodied the physical ideal of House Baraqijal. Petite, no more than five feet, and small boned, she possessed the delicate grace of the crane that served as the Baraqijal House symbol. She walked with stately elegance, each movement one of refined poise.
“Really, I was done,” Aiden said, taking one final glance at the phoenix. Extending her hands, she deposited the bowl with great care upon its resting place.
“Were you really?” the Chinese seer asked skeptically. “Tell me, what do you think of the dragon?”
“What dragon?” Startled, Aiden turned the bowl around and found an equally intricate carving of a dragon on the side opposite the phoenix.
“You did not see the dragon?” Ah-Loi sounded amused. “Even though he was right there under your nose?”
“I missed it completely,” Aiden remarked, grinning at her own oversight. “Talk about being oblivious.”
“Do not blame yourself. He is a sly serpent,” Ah-Loi said, smiling with the fondness people usually reserved for their children and pets.
“The dragon is creativity and good fortune, the Emperor, and male energy,” Ah-Loi explained. “They exist in opposition to one another. Yin and yang.”
Aiden nodded solemnly to show that she understood. She did not fathom the exact point to the conversation, but she was sure it held some hidden meaning.
“I’m here to ask you about the Phoenix,” Aiden explained, choosing to broach her reason for coming.
“Not the dragon?” Madame Ah-Loi asked with an amused arch of her brow and a mysterious little smile.
“Not the dragon,” Aiden confirmed. Turning the phoenix toward her, she carefully set the bowl down at the center of the table. “You see...”
“Indeed, I do see,” the seer agreed. “All too well at times.” The seer extended open hands and held them inches from the sides of the bowl without touching it. Sparkles of fairy dust danced upon her fingertips. Magical energy filled the room, as wispy and intangible as mist. It tingled with an effervescent serenity that swept away all doubt and worry.
“Tell me what you see in the bowl,” Madame Ah-Loi instructed in a no-nonsense tone.
“The bowl is empty,” Aiden replied automatically. She’d already inspected the receptacle thoroughly and knew it did not contain anything.
“Are you so certain? Not all truth can be seen with the eyes. Certain truths must be witnessed with the heart. Look,” Ah-Loi commanded.
Aiden glanced down, staring into a clean white mist that slowly snaked upward with the graceful flutter of a dancer’s veils. Silvery-white fluid filled the bowl. The liquid’s surface was glassy smooth and as reflective as a highly polished mirror. She gazed through fingers in the miasma and saw herself looking back. But instead of a two-dimensional reflection, her twin appeared to exist in three dimensions.
Startled, she sucked down a deep breath. Without warning, the world tilted and tumbled and pulled her inside out. She underwent a surreal distortion as her mind was sucked into another space and time.
“What do you see?” The seer’s voice echoed from a great distance through the mist.
“Me. I see myself,” Aiden whispered, turning to look in all directions. She encountered more mist and her own reflection circling her on all sides.
“Very good. Now, tell me, what do you wish to see?”
“The truth. About what became of Cassio, the last Phoenix, five hundred years ago. Can you show me?” Aiden asked. She reached out to touch a silken strand of mist as it drifted past her hand. It intertwined between her fingers, kitten-like in its affection.
“Yes, I can show you.”
Aiden’s world cartwheeled out of control, and images flowed through her mind, a real life movie in rewind. Back and backward through time, past places. People. Events.
“But be warned…” The seer’s voice was faint and far away, so weak that the rest of her words were lost to time.
A brilliant white flash left Aiden momentarily blinded.
She blinked and spread her hands as icy water flowed over her face and arms, and the wind whipped around her in a gale.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mariah suspected her master would be the death of her, one way or another.
They followed the Highland path, a narrow strip of exposed rock defined on either side by emerald moss and lichens. Calling it a road would have been too generous. Below, a swollen stream flowed into one of the land’s countless lochs beyond a dense forest of green. Above, a snow-capped peak glistened, crowning the mountain with a white lightning-bright crown.
Mariah had admired the landscape before the dreadful frozen rain began and a bank of pea-soup fog rolled in, blanketing the vista and destroying the view.
Now, needles of frozen rain stung her hands and face as she clutched at the doe hide cloak with numb fingers and struggled to keep the driving wind from stealing it away. The cloak was fine protection for the mild Mediterranean winters of her beloved Savona but provided no respite from the blistering cold of Northern Scotland. Her only concern had become remaining upright in spite of her physical misery.
Mariah wasn’t built to endure such abuse. Her delicate build and short stature we
re better suited to a life spent in study. She wore her long brown hair worn in a loose braid. With each step, her feet dragged as if weighed down by frozen bricks. She trudged forward in excruciating agony, but the man leading the way up the rugged trail had no regard for his follower’s physical discomfort. He set a backbreaking pace and negotiated the steep incline with demonic determination.
Taking her eyes off the rocky trail, Mariah glared daggers at Cassio’s back. A sudden gust of howling wind blasted slushy water into her face. The impact struck like a slap. An alarmed cry escaped her as her foot slipped on an icy patch and her entire leg went out from under her.
Crashing to her hands and knees with a cry, she scrabbled desperately to avoid tumbling down the hillside. She found purchase on a rocky outcrop that stopped her downward skid. Whimpering pitifully, she clutched at the protrusion with both hands as the jagged edge cut open her palms. Blood flowed from the wounds, but the rain diluted the red and washed it away.
Panicking, Mariah searched the thick fog for any sign of Cassio, but he was gone. As she struggled to stand, she blinked away tears that were indistinguishable from the rain on her face. If she were abandoned and alone in this hellish place, then she certainly had no chance to survive.
Suddenly, a pair of boots filled her field of vision. “Hurry it along, woman!” Cassio bellowed. “We have no time to indulge your laziness!” He seized her upper arm with bruising fingers and hauled her to her feet.
“I’m sorry, milord, I lost my footing,” Mariah promptly apologized, staring up into his cagey face. She remained tense with the expectation of a punishing blow.
The Immortal Watcher was tall and lean. With his long honey-colored hair, blue eyes, and classic Grecian bone structure, he should’ve been handsome, but he possessed a certain innate ugliness, a cancer of the soul that contorted his features into a mask of rage and misery.
Mariah’s subservient posture earned her a mollified frown from Cassio. Though insensitive, selfish, and thoughtless, even the Immortal Watcher realized he’d set a grueling pace that exceeded his wife’s endurance. Without recourse, Cassio turned away and resumed the upward climb.
The second the man’s back was turned, Mariah spat to the side of the trail, her brown eyes once again full of misery and anger. She choked on a sob, wondering how such a weak and callow man could possibly be the legendary Phoenix.
Simmering contempt and silent hatred kept her heart hot while her body froze, but she took great care not to backtalk or offer a snide comment that might provoke his terrible temper. The hard and well-learned lesson was ingrained. More than once he’d beaten her within an inch of her life.
Of course, he always felt sorrowful afterward, so a drunken binge would ensue that left him in a blessed stupor while she nursed her wounds. She preferred him like that—unconscious and unresponsive. Those were the only times she ever knew a measure of peace.
At long last, they reached the summit of the steep trail through the thick fog. The top of the mountain formed a broad, fat plain. A circle of enormous stone slabs dominated the plateau. Southwest in orientation, each of the erect stone blocks weighed several tons.
Centuries before, the most powerful Shemyaza sorcerers had erected such monoliths to serve multiple purposes. As a calendar, the monuments allowed astrologers to track the sun, moon, and stars as they moved through the sky. Several key lay lines intersected at the site, forming a nexus. Many esoteric and religious rites were performed there.
Mariah staggered the final steps to the edge of the circle. She collapsed into an exhausted heap and then leaned against one of the stone slabs for support. The side of the mountain offered marginal protection from the lashing wind and the driving rain which beat at them like dual fists.
Cassio had told Mariah nothing about the ancient inhabitants who had chosen to make this harsh land their home, but she imagined that their lives had been short and violent. When both land and climate were unforgiving, so too were the people who lived there. She longed for shelter and a warm fire, but the luxury would not be afforded her any time soon.
Unburdened by human weakness, Cassio immediately headed to the center of the circle and unpacked his gear. They’d crossed all of Europe and England to perform a singular ritual, an opportunity that occurred on one particular night in every five hundred years. Only on that night could the existing Phoenix choose to die and pass on his power to a successor.
The invocation required very little in the way of physical components. Rather, the preparation and presentation of the ritual determined its success or failure. Cassio was determined not to fail.
Cassio knelt and held his palm less than a foot above the stony earth. A hot blue flame leapt from his hand and scorched a dark line into the rock. The Immortal Watcher worked with methodical precision, unmindful of the inclement weather or Mariah’s chattering teeth. Slowly but surely, he burned a pentagram.
The pentagram represented the five elements—air, earth, fire, water, and spirit. Each point corresponded to one of the cardinal directions, except spirit, which was represented by the pentagram’s center. For completion, the spell required the right words, and of course, the Heart and the Blood of Shemyaza, which beat in Cassio’s breast and flowed through his veins.
Fatigued and impassive, Mariah watched her master labor at his task. He poured his concentration into the invocation with the obsessive single-mindedness of a madman. The Immortal Watcher was unusually energized, almost euphoric in anticipation of his impending death.
And why shouldn’t he be joyous? Against her wishes and without the pretense of consulting her, Cassio had determined that Mariah would be his heir. She was Of the Blood, Of House Shemyaza, and under his control—the only criteria he needed to choose her as his heir.
Upon this night, which came only once every five centuries, Cassio would perish on a bonfire, and Mariah would become the next Phoenix. For five hundred years, he’d longed to lie down and die. In a few minutes when he stepped into the fire and chose death, he’d bequeath his powers and all that went with them to her.
To many of their House, eternal youth and immense power were highly desirable, and both were sought after with insatiable lust. After five hundred years with Cassio on the throne, House Shemyaza lay in ruins, a mere shadow of its former glory. It had grown rife with treachery and deceit, vicious infighting that tore the House apart by its seams.
Mariah had witnessed first-hand the price the Phoenix extracted. The only way to become immortal was to burn to death on a bonfire, a prospect that left Mariah sick with fear. And yet, it would happen. She would yield to Cassio’s wishes and accept the burden of responsibility. She would become the next Phoenix.
Why? Why? Why? Had she no spine, no will of her own? It galled her that she’d become so pliant and conditioned to yield to a man’s decisions. As a girl, she’d been strong spirited and stubborn, but Cassio had long since broken her in their six hellish years of marriage. Her soul ached with humiliation and helplessness, and she couldn’t summon the energy necessary to resist or defy him.
They’d been joined when she turned fifteen, but it’d be a farce to call their loveless union a marriage. Mariah cleaned and cooked for him, but Cassio had robbed her of whatever joy and comfort she might’ve found in children because no life issued from his barren loins.
“It is time! On your feet, and let’s get this thing done!”
The imperious command walloped Mariah like an auditory blow, causing her to start. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared blankly up at the man towering over her.
Ever impatient, Cassio bent and hauled Mariah to her feet. Clutching her arm, he dragged her to stand at the base of the pentagram so they faced each another.
“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for five centuries, Mariah, and I’m not going to let you ruin it. I refuse to suffer another five hundred years of unending torment upon this earth,” Cassio lectured. “You’re going to say the words and play your part. Do you understand?” he dem
anded through gritted teeth.
To appease him, she gave a tired nod.
“Good, then let’s get this over with,” Cassio said. The Immortal Watcher accepted her acquiescence and drew a stiletto from his belt. He grabbed the front of his shirt and ripped it open, exposing his bare chest to the elements.
“Just as Shemyaza passed on his Heart to Hath, and Hath to Channah, and Channah to I, so shall I grant this noble inheritance to you, Mariah of Savona,” he recited.
Seizing her wrist, he transferred the stiletto to Mariah’s hand and forced her numb fingers to close around the hilt. His much larger hand formed a tight prison around hers and prevented her from dropping the blade. Mariah licked her chapped lips, and her entire body trembled with the force of her reaction.
Mariah’s emotions shifted like quicksilver, from fear to disgust, and then her resentment and hatred of Cassio joined the medley. She had a natural aversion to murder, just as any person of good conscience, but a dark shadow in her heart longed to plunge the knife into his chest.
Cassio made a gesture toward the center of the pentagram, and a column of fire sprang up in a graceful spiral, defying both gravity and rain. In ancient times they’d have built a pyre of branches and bramble, but old ways gave way to cleaner, more efficient practices.
With a sudden howl of protest, the wind kicked up and sent a torrent of rain onto the fire which crackled and dimmed, momentarily doused. Then it roared again with renewed life and spewed forth clouds of steam.
“In you I shall leave a legacy and bestow my power,” Cassio shouted to be heard above the wind even though no one resided within a hundred miles in any direction.
Cassio dragged Mariah’s arm toward his chest, the tip of the stiletto aimed at his heart. A sharp pain tore at her shoulder, and she realized she’d been resisting and pulling away from him.
“Mariah, stop. I won’t allow you to deny me!” Cassio hissed as spittle flew from between his clenched teeth. He glared at her, and his fingers bit into her arm with bruising force, punishing her for daring to oppose him.
Phoenix Contract: Part Five (Fallen Angel Watchers) Page 3