Phobia (Interracial Paranormal Romance) (Wisteria)

by Leyton, Bisi

  “Steven,” she gasped as Enric lifted her off her feet. “Are you insane? You can’t hold off a Dy’obeth.”

  “Ria, go, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get through.” Steven shouted as the door shook behind him. “Enric, get her out of here and if anything happens to her, I’ll haunt you the rest of your life.”

  “Enric stop him,” Wisteria pleaded as Enric seized her and tossed her into the threshold.

  When she disappeared through, she caught glimpses of the door smashing open.

  The Dy’obeths marched in as Steven flew across the room. Before he even landed, a Dy’obeth pulsed him with a red light and he vaporized.

  “Steven—” She stumbled out on the other side of the threshold. She wanted to return.

  Enric emerged after and shut down the threshold. “He is gone.”

  “No, he’s been hurt. We’ll get him back.” Wisteria tried to sound rational.

  Frowning, Enric shook his head.

  “No, please no.” Wisteria froze. “Maybe he escaped?”

  “You should be relieved to have one less person to worry about,” Enric commented.

  “How can you say that?” Wisteria snapped.

  “You made it,” Garfield approached her. “Where’s Steven?”

  “He didn’t make it. Dy’obeths—” she stammered. “He died, so we could get away.”

  “I’m sorry.” Garfield squeezed her shoulder.

  “Why did he do it? He shouldn’t have come,” Wisteria stated.

  Saying it now wouldn’t change anything, but it was still true. Regardless of how Steven irritated her, she’d never wanted anything to happen to him.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Garfield replied. “He was in love with you.”

  Biting her lip, she spun round to face Garfield and found they were both standing in what looked like a grand living room. “Where are we?”

  Its lush forest green furnishing reminded her of the five-star hotels her mother took her to when they left Lagos on their grand holiday. The floor looked like olive marble and the walls were adorned with rich oil paintings, ranging in size from a few inches to nine or ten feet tall. The center of the room encompassed an indoor pond, complete with a stone fountain.

  “He wasn’t in love with her. He was confused,” Hailey said quietly.

  “I’m sorry Hailey,” Wisteria whispered. “I wish—”

  “You’re not even crying. It’s like you don’t care. Steven was the love of my life and you killed him.” Hailey dropped the ground while sobbing.

  “Wisteria—perhaps you should take a moment,” Enric suggested. “And mourn for your friend?”

  “Enric, I don’t—I can’t.” Wisteria’s voice wavered. She wanted to cry for Steven. She wanted to weep for Coles, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to breakdown, not here and not now. If she gave into her emotions, she feared she'd never be able to regain control. “Where are we?”

  “Is this the Hall of Ages?” Garfield asked.

  Enric strode to the ten feet tall stone doors that led out of the room. “We are in the Moon Desert, but not the Hall of Ages. This is where my friend lives.”

  “How do we get to the Hall of Ages? We should go straight there.” Racing after Enric, Wisteria reached the door and opened it.

  When the door swung back, two women dressed in deep green velvet robes stood on the other side. One appeared to be in her eighties or nineties while the other appeared a few years older than Wisteria. Both women looked like they were from East Asia, except for their bright green eyes. They seemed familiar.

  “Daughter of Hemlock Zey, welcome to my home.” The elderly woman smiled.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reapers do not exist

  “You finally brought her,” the younger Famila woman added as she glanced at Enric “I was afraid you had given up.”

  “I never give up,” Enric answered. “As you requested I did not force her, but it took longer than I thought to convince her to come.”

  The younger woman smirked at Enric and glanced at Wisteria. “I hope he did not hurt you.”

  “Who are you?” Wisteria asked. “What do you want?”

  “I am called Sen-Filla Merce,” the old woman answered.

  “Sen Filla? That is like a Sen-Son? You’re a princess.” Wisteria recalled Bach telling her this once.

  “More like the child of a governor. My father was the Sen of the Fifth Pillar,” Merce continued. “But who I am and who my father was, is not as important as who you are Wisteria of the First Pillar.”

  “You are shorter than Enric described.” The younger woman examined Wisteria closely. “I find it surprising how small humans can be at times. You are like a woman-child.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Wisteria backed away. “Listen, I’m here to help you, not to be insulted. We both have to deal with the Dy’obeths and—”

  “Turia, apologize,” Merce instructed.

  “I am sorry Wisteria, but I mean nothing by it.” Turia took a black scarf from around her shoulders and draped it over her head. “Enric made her sound taller. My father was a short man—for a Famila. He made us promise to marry the tallest men we could find. I suppose that was one of the reasons Radala fell in love with Enric.”

  “You are Radala’s bloodline?” Wisteria looked up at Enric and witnessed the hurt in his eyes when that name was mentioned.

  Radala was Enric’s girlfriend. She’d died in Franklin as a result of what Doc did to her.

  “We did not come here to discuss her,” Enric said coldly.

  “You know me?” Wisteria changed the subject.

  “Wisteria, come with me.” Merce shuffled down the corridor to an antique sofa in the hallway and sat. She patted the sofa as a gesture for Wisteria to join her. “I am certain you have a lot of questions.”

  No way did she intend to fall into another trap set by a seemingly kind member of the Family. Sure, she kind of trusted Enric, because he’d always be loyal to Bach, but this Merce woman was quite a different story.

  “I have many questions too. You were there when my grandbaby died,” Merce said.

  Baby, that was what Wisteria’s mother called her sometimes. Hearing the word spoken with such sadness softened Wisteria’s heart.

  “Take a seat. Standing after she has offered is disrespectful,” Enric prompted while glaring at her.

  Wisteria felt exhausted. Her heart raced and she felt dizzy, but she wasn’t going to give Enric the satisfaction of thinking he could intimidate her. Snapping her head up at him, she glared. “Don’t ever talk to me like I’m nothing.” She intended to say more but was struck by how distressed he appeared.

  “Radala died to save you. The very least you could do is show her grandmother the honor she requires,” he stated.

  Wisteria gasped. “She died because of me?”

  “I sent her to find where Coia had been hidden and also bring you back here,” Merce revealed. “I should have never let her go in that Red Phoenix stronghold.”

  “Franklin wasn’t a Red Phoenix stronghold.” Wisteria wanted to add, it was a small town of scientists trying to figure out a cure and they also believed Felip was helping them, but Merce was right. “Radala was my friend and the one of the few members of your Family who was ever nice to me.”

  “You do not understand why.” Merce guessed. “You believe all of us hate humans?”

  Leaning against the wall to stop herself from slumping, Wisteria didn’t answer.

  “Look around, there are no Thayns here. Like the rest of the Fifth Pillar, I do not keep them. I would not imprison them and I do not believe your people should be slaves,” Merce assured her. “I hope in time, you will believe that I am your friend.”

  “Sure.” But Wisteria had been tricked many times before this.

  “Our people almost killed her and her beloved, I would be cautious too.” Merce glanced at Enric. “Leave us, everyone.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Merce waved him
away.

  Once they were alone, Merce turned to Wisteria. “I can tell you a lot about the First Pillar and probably some things about your father and Ivy. I am sure, you’re mother told you a lot, but I hope I can fill in one or two of the blanks.”

  “How did my father die?” Wisteria asked without thinking. “Who from the Family did it?”

  “He was killed by an immortal.”

  “An immortal, as in the Family or the Dy’obeths?”

  “We are not immortal. We simply live longer than most humans. Dy’obeths live extended lives, because they feed on each other and on the Family’s essence.” Merce shook her head. “The immortals are pure magic.”

  “Why did they kill my father?”

  “The Family are not the only ones who wanted the First Pillar to stay away from the discovered realms. You have a lot more enemies.”

  “Other aliens hate humans?”

  “Other Supernaturals fear the humans of the First Pillar,” Merce corrected. “It is hard to believe that humans, a people so child-like, can be so feared.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are powerful. So much so, they were sent away from Earth by the humans three thousand years ago because they mistook their knowledge for witchcraft.”

  “Why are they so advanced?”

  “If I knew, I would be like them. The First Pillar do not want this, so for the most part, they keep away from other races and the humans from Earth. When Hemlock came, I had to track him down personally. I needed to see at least one First Pillar before I died.”

  “What did he look like?” Wisteria asked.

  Slowly, Merce reached into her pocket and took out a small piece of paper, which she offered to Wisteria.

  Sitting next to the woman, Wisteria took the paper.

  It was a photograph of a short teenage-boy, smiling as he stood next to a slightly younger version of Merce. She looked to be in her fifties. The boy had short hair and wore a white shirt buttoned up in the front.

  Wisteria studied the picture and asked, “Where was this taken?”

  “Hong Kong, almost twenty-six years ago. It was the last time I saw him.”

  “He was a kid.”

  “So, are you.”

  “He was very short.” Studying the image of the boy who was barely Merce’s height, she imagined what her life would’ve been like if he’d been around. “I mean—tell me what I need to get from the Hall of Ages.”

  “I cannot tell you what is in the Hall of Ages. No one alive has ever been inside and no records exist on what was stored within the walls.”

  “You’re sending me in there and you don’t know what I’m supposed to get?”

  “No.”

  “How many artifacts and other junk are in there? In the Room of Ages, there were thousands of things. This hall is supposed to be even bigger.”

  “According to the stories of my people, there are millions of artifacts, maps, books and documents.”

  “Sen-Filla Merce, how am I supposed to find something when no one knows what it is?”

  “Because you are First—”

  “Don’t say First Pillar because that’s never helped me before.” As she spoke, a glass flower vases next to Wisteria cracked.

  “You are more powerful than you believe,” Merce continued. “Your instincts have kept you alive, as long as you keep on trusting them.”

  “My instincts?”

  “That was how you opened the threshold that brought you back from Jarthan. On some level, you discerned what needed to be done.”

  “I got lucky.” Wisteria rubbed her sweating hands.

  “Your instinct tells you, you remain bonded to Bach even though he has been transformed into a Dy’obeth.”

  “That isn’t instinct. I can feel it.”

  “And your tiredness and dizziness—you understand that is more than a side effect of the blood serum Coia gave you,” Merce continued.

  “Enric told me.”

  “But you know what it is.”

  “I’m recovering from the treatment and it’s probably complicated by the Mosroc.” Wisteria shrugged. “That’s not instinct, it’s common sense.”

  “Child, your body is changing—”

  Suddenly, a loud scream cut through the air.

  Enric burst in and ran across the hall. “It is coming from outside.”

  Moments later, Turia hurried through the front door without her scarf. Her once elegantly long dress was ripped exposing her legs, her knees were bloody and her face was bruised. Her tanned skin now looked almost completely white. “Grandmother, I—” She raced over to Merce.

  “What’s wrong?” Merce asked.

  Bewildered, Turia seemed to slow down as she made her way to her grandmother. “I do not understand.”

  “Turia, what is it?” Merce rose.

  Grabbing Merce, Turia shook her. “We cannot stay here. Everything has gone insane out there.”

  “Calm down and talk to me.” Enric stepped in front of her. “Who is out there?”

  “Get up grandmother.” Moving to Merce, Turia helped the woman to her feet. “Get to the threshold.”

  “Turia tell me what is going on?” Merce insisted. “Have Dy’obeths come to make us swear the loyalty oath?”

  “No—I saw—Father,” Turia stuttered. “He is outside.”

  “You are not making sense. He died twelve years ago.” Merce frowned.

  “Grandmother, I saw him. He attacked me with a knife.” Turia’s eyes darted from side to side. “Yes, he was dead, but he is—not. Listen, we must leave now.”

  “Relax, we are anxious because Dy’obeths have taken over. Do not worry. Soon, we will leave the desert,” Merce said.

  “Grandmother, I said I saw Father. He had a scar on his cheek.” Pointing her trembling finger at the door, Turia moved past Enric and Wisteria. She raced down the hall to the room where Hailey and Garfield were. “Enric, I will activate the threshold, get her over here.”

  “I am going to take a look,” Enric suggested.

  “Hold on, we should leave.” Wisteria grabbed his arm, escaping seemed like the right thing to do.

  He glanced at her hand and slowly at her as if to say, do not touch me.

  Letting go, she gestured back toward Turia. “Maybe we should listen to her.”

  “There is nothing out there.” Enric marched toward the front door. Opening the door, he revealed a large sandy garden with green and purple cacti. “Nothing and no one is out here.”

  Across the garden was a six or seven foot decorative metal fence and on the other side, members of the Family were passing by. Like Enric and Merce, they were dressed in 1930s style clothes, though most weren’t as finely dressed. This must have been because Merce and Enric were wealthier.

  But that didn’t matter now, she needed to keep away from the race who more often than not wanted to kill or enslave humanity. Fortunately, the people didn’t see her. They seemed pre-occupied as they hurried about their business. Strangely, all the people on the street were heading in the same direction and with great speed.

  “Is it normal for people to be moving like that?” Wisteria instinctively pulled out her sword as Enric looked out the door. “It’s as if they’re running from something.”

  Grimacing, Enric closed the door. “Okay, it is a little odd.”

  Unexpectedly, the door swung back open, hitting Enric in the face.

  A seven-foot tall man stormed in. From his decaying skin, rotting clothes and foul stench, it was obvious he was a biter, except this one had faded green eyes, not red like the human infected.

  “D’cara,” Enric cried as he fell. “Do not—”

  “There’re biters here?” Wisteria charged at the massive flesher. Leaping up, she sliced off the man’s head.

  The head rolled down the hall, stopping a few inches away from Merce, who stood frozen staring at it.

  “I did not need your help.” Enric got up.

  Not answering him, she inspec
ted the biter’s body as a black liquid oozed from its neck. “How long have you had biters here?”

  “They are not biters because he was a Famila.” Slamming the door shut, he bolted it. “I also did not need your help in protecting me. I would have stopped it on my own.”

  “Enric, you needed my help. The reason you brought me here is because you need me. Don’t ever forget it!” Hopping over the biter, Wisteria headed back to the room where Garfield and Hailey were. “You—” Something grabbed her ankle. Glancing down, she saw that headless biter’s hand clinched her leg. “No.” She kicked at the biter to try and get it to release her foot, when that didn’t work, she swung at it with her sword and sliced off its hand.

  The headless creature kept crawling toward her.

  “Why isn’t it dead?” Wisteria backed down the hall.

  The biter’s body reached over and picked up its decapitated hand, seemingly screwing it back on.

  Moving back, she bumped into Garfield who’d stepped into the hall.

  “What is that?” Garfield drew out his crossbow and arrow.

  “Oh— dear—it is Manric!” Merce edged out of the end room, glaring at the biter’s head that had now rolled down the hall. “My son. “

  “Radala’s father?” Enric raced toward Merce.

  “He was. He’s a reaper now.” Merce crouched down close to it. “What kind of evil knowledge did this?”

  “Return back into the parlor. I will take care of this.” Enric told Merce.

  “It is a reaper.” Merce shook her head. “Have you ever dealt with one before?”

  “Reapers do not exist,” Enric replied.

  “Well, it’s pretty impressive for a non-existent creature.” Garfield poked at the head with one of his arrows.

  A banging and screaming came from outside the front door.

  “They are coming for us.” Staring at the front door, Merce got to her feet and backed into the parlor. “We need to leave like Turia said.”

  “Sen-Filla Merce, what are reapers?” Wisteria followed her.

  The boys trailed after them.

  Enric slammed the parlor door shut behind them. “Sen-Filla Merce that—was not a reaper.”