Dahlia: A Novel of Dark Desire

by Viola Calvary

  Dahlia panicked. If what he was saying was true she had been slated for a nasty death. One that, if Horan had been correct, would take her allies out with her. She struggled, reached out with her abilities desperately and screamed as the band burned cold into her neck. “Fuck you,” she ground out and pushed harder.

  “Now you understand,” he seemed pleased. “Don’t bother fighting. And don’t worry, this won’t kill you. It’ll just hurt a lot. I’ll want to keep you around. Once you recover you’ll be a great asset. I came here specifically to get another magnifier so we could wipe out your force without sacrificing you.”

  “Stop fighting, my ass!” Dahlia pushed harder, her vision starting to swim from the pain.

  “Hush, maybe you’ll find this interesting,” he pulled out a small, gleaming gemstone of gold and green. “Draconite. Pulled from the head of a living dragon when he was held captive deeper beneath this room. I bet most people don’t even know it’s here, just that one mediocre researcher I had brought to me. I can distribute the energy through you first then through the draconite using these tools.”

  Dahlia screamed as she struggled. She hadn’t been anywhere near the best in her training working with research and constructs, but she had paid attention and Ahriman’s team had been in charge. To negate anything, the theory went, all you had to do was store or ground it. Though actually achieving that was a complex undertaking they were only just starting to experiment with. Transforming psychic energy into pain and rebounding it against its creator should have taken extra effort. Ahriman had never been known to be sadistic. He was apathetic towards the pain of others but hadn’t been known to inflict it for pure enjoyment. So, her desperate theory ran, there must be a reason he made the construct hurt when she used her power. Either it could be overwhelmed or she could get around it. Hopefully.

  The problem was she was funnelling everything she had and was getting nothing but pain for her effort. She only had so much power she could draw on.

  She screamed again as the band grew still colder and seared beneath her skin. She focused everything she had on it. Every instinct and desire aligned, she poured every drop she could into the damned band.

  She felt Horan smash the back of his hand against her mouth and she tasted blood as her lips split. “Gods you are irritating, stop it.”

  “Horan!” She heard a voice ring out.

  Damn it, no!

  “Traedon, go!” she screamed.

  “Oh ho ho, look at this!” Horan laughed loudly. “Your lover’s come to save you. Or is that Ravin now? I can’t keep track.”

  “Back down, Horan,” Traedon ground out as his demon pack appeared around him.

  Horan didn’t even look at him. “I’ll be right back,” he told the woman strapped to the table. Then he bent down and pressed his mouth painfully to her bloody lips and slid a hand to her hip.

  Dahlia bucked her head forward, trying to smash into him but he moved quickly back, smiling with her blood on his lips. “Doesn’t matter anyways, they’ll both be corpses by the time dawn comes.”

  The first of Traedon’s tigers darted in, testing Horan. The captain spun and sent a shot faster than it could dodge. The beast vanished, split in half.

  “No, Traedon, go!” she begged him. Traedon was strong but he was facing two men that had been leaders in the force. Against those odds he couldn’t hope to win.

  Horan’s next shot was straight at the lieutenant. Unable to block a shot that was purely compressed air, Traedon was forced to dodge but his tigers circled their opponent. Ahriman simply ignored them as he continued with his preparations.

  Dahlia’s breath was a sob as she fought against the pain and her own limits to overcome the band on her neck. She saw Horan forming a wide scythe of compressed air Traedon would be hard pressed to dodge.

  He shot it at Traedon and the lieutenant threw himself over it as two of his tigers rushed in from either side. One of them caught a chunk from Horan’s thigh, but the captain had thrown a second blast as Traedon hung in the air that sliced through the man’s dominant sword arm. Blood spilled from both men as Traedon landed on two feet and the hand of his uninjured arm. Horan whipped his sword through the beast that had just bit him and it dissolved. Three more set on him but with a motion a sharp gust propelled the captain up over head where he hung for a moment and fired another blast. The three tigers got out of the way and Traedon closed in, but it was obvious that Horan had the advantage.

  He landed on both legs, ignoring the injury Traedon’s tiger had caused, and locked blades with the lieutenant. Two tigers jumped at him but with a wave another scythe appeared and ripped through them. Traedon took the sacrifice to his advantage though and slammed a kick into Horan’s injured limb.

  Horan pivoted back, alleviating some of the force of the kick, brought up a shield of his compressed air against another tiger, and caught Traedon with a slash to the top of the shoulder of his injured arm. Traedon took the blow in stride but it was easy to tell that it hurt him. He held the blade with both hands and went for a lunge. Horan feigned a dodge to the right and instead brought up another blade of air from the ground. Hastily formed, it didn’t have enough power to cut, but Traedon’s head was knocked back and he took a slice on his forearm from Horan’s sword as he blindly blocked the cut coming towards his throat.

  “Tsk, tsk, I imagine Horan’s going to kill him. Pointless, but that’s what you get when you ally with soldiers,” Ahriman mused.

  Dahlia felt something in her snap and she drain everything left into the band.

  “I keep telling you not to do that,” Ahriman rebuked her, “you’re going to pass out and I’d prefer you awake.”

  “Fuck you,” she spat blood at him and continued. Her vision started to go in and out. She heard a thud and Traedon coughed raggedly. It sounded like Horan had hit something internal.

  No, this isn’t happening, I refuse to accept it.

  She felt tears in her eyes as she fought against the pain of the band burning deep into her muscles. Her throat felt like cold fire was burning her from inside out.

  No...I have to have the strength to…

  Her vision faded to black.

  Chapter Forty Five

  She looked around. She was on her hands and knees surrounded by pitch black. “Am I dead?” she wondered aloud.

  “Hell, I hope not, that would be ever so boring,” drawled a rich, velvety voice beside her.

  Dahlia jerked her head towards the sound to find a lean, handsome man with shockingly auburn hair and eyes entirely filled with a strange gold color. He was cuffed to a large, ornate chair by his wrists and ankles. He smiled at her and wickedly pointed canines displayed among impossibly white teeth.

  “Hello dear,” he said.

  Dahlia jumped to her feet and spun to face him. “What the hell is this?” she demanded.

  “Your mind, you tell me,” he said pleasantly.

  “Then tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “Enjoying the view, mostly. You are quite lovely but I am getting tired of the men. I’m pretty open minded but would it kill you to change it up a little? I bet Borreal would share Fidelity if you asked,” he licked his lips. “That woman is intriguing. And that’s saying a lot coming from me.”

  “That doesn’t help. What is a pervert doing in my head?” She snapped out, looking around for a way out. There was nothing but darkness.

  “Watch who you’re calling ‘pervert’, sweetheart,” he said, still in a pleasant tone.

  “I’m pretty sure voyeurism is a perversion. I don’t have time for this right now, people are going to die.”

  “Pot calling the kettle black. I never even thought of mating with the dragon. That was all you. Interesting possibilities though. Now what are you worried about time for? We could spend hours here and it would seem like the blink of an eye for your physical body.”

  “Fine. If it’s my mind, it’s my rules. Tell me who you are.”

  “Don’t you know?
You came looking for me,” he leaned in toward her, the muscles of his body shifting like a cat’s, his wrists straining slightly against the metal cuffs.

  “I wasn’t looking for anything except power to break the damn band…” Her eyes shot open and she recoiled. “No.”

  The man smiled like a cat trying to charm a canary, “Oh yes.”

  “No. Get out of my head.”

  He sighed, “You haven’t exactly given me great accommodations but sadly I can’t. What I can do is make you a rather attractive offer. You’re still so young, your power has so much room to grow but you just don’t have the time. I was alive for over three hundred years. I have enough power in one hand to allow you to free yourself then save that adorable lieutenant and the other soldier you care so much about.”

  “No. I’ve never wanted anything to do with you before and I want nothing now. You’re legacy has caused me nothing but trouble. Puppet Master,” she spat at him.

  “Leon will be just fine, no need to be formal,” he said primly. “I can tell you want nothing to do with me. How do you think I ended up imprisoned here? But I’m not asking for much. The power is here in you whether you use it or not. Would it be right of you to let your friends and lovers die because you wouldn’t use what you’d been given? Just free my right hand, that’s all you’ll need.”

  He sounded so damn reasonable.

  “Why would you want something as seemingly simple as that?” she asked him.

  “Have you ever had to go decades without scratching your nose? If you had you wouldn’t have to ask.”

  “Yeah right, nothing more than that.”

  He smiled at her again. Leon, right. Forget a cat--he looked like a lion trying to sweet talk a canary.

  “You know I really wasn’t as bad as they say. History can be so cruel to the losers.”

  She’d been backed into a corner, she needed strength, she’d hit her limits. “Tell me this. What happens when you’re free.”

  He looked pleased. “Excellent question! It depends on you and what you’re doing at the time.”

  She held his strange eyes with her stare, “That was an evasion. Answer me directly.”

  “So it was,” he agreed, “but true. A number of things could happen. I could be your friend, a part of you. You would access all my power, my memories, and use them as you would. I imagine I’d be stronger and more independent than your other imaginary friends but similar. Or I’d incorporate into your personality if you were enough like me. Or, if you are very unlucky and I am very lucky, our roles would reverse.”

  “So you’re locked here for a very good reason and you want me to start to free you?”

  The man tilted his head slightly, “Do you really have any choice?”

  “I could die.”

  “Oh no, you wouldn’t die. These men would use you. If I’m not mistaking Horan’s intentions it would be in more ways than one. You might still choose that route and hope to escape. Except you won’t sacrifice the people you care about, the ones you’re supposed to protect.”

  Dahlia stopped. He was right. She might have sacrificed her own life to avoid giving sway to the shadow that had stalked her for so long. She wouldn’t sacrifice the lives of the people depending on her though.

  She braced herself and faced him then. “It seems I am truly out of options. I accept your offer, monster.”

  “Pot and kettle, dear.” He flashed his gleaming canines again.

  She focused for a moment, steadied the fear that rose up inside her, and willed away one of the cuffs on the chair.

  He stretched his arm, now free, and golden light raced over his arm. “You can have this for free,” his voice turned sharp, the velvet warmth gone. “Take the draconite and keep it hidden. Now, goodbye, my dear Dahlia,” he pushed his palm flat out at her and she felt herself shot back into awareness.

  Shit, he had the power to push her out of an area of her own mind with only a small portion of his abilities. That was terrifying. She heard Traedon hit the floor. She didn’t have time to worry about it now. She reached for the same gold power she’d seen Leon wielding and it crackled around her vision. The band on her neck burned terribly but her body took the punishment without risking unconsciousness. She pushed the power into the band and the pain intensified exponentially. Then, with a burst of gold sparks, the pain vanished and the band exploded around her. Ahriman stepped back, shielding his face.

  “Die maggot,” she growled and sent a bolt of the energy slamming into Horan’s mind. His shield shattered. His eyes rolled up into his head and he fell. Five puppets appeared around her. Four severed the cuffs holding her to the table while one pushed Ahriman back, caught off his guard.

  He quickly recovered and slashed through the woman but Dahlia was already freed and on her feet. He looked at her eyes and fled.

  “No you don’t,” she said, grinning madly. Flushed with a wild strength she’d never felt before she craved dominance over this man who had hurt her, thought to use her as his tool. She took off after him and two more puppets appeared as the other four darted over to Horan. She was surprised by her own increase in speed but kept her footing. Ahriman had to slow down to avoid the puppet’s strikes and she caught up with him easily. Grabbing him by the hair, she pulled him back and down, forcing his eyes up towards hers. One of the puppets stepped in to block a strike meant for her as Ahriman swung desperately.

  “Let me break you,” she cooed as her eyes met his, wide with fear, and she dug into his mind.

  Chapter Forty Six

  The room around them faded and she stood before a wall, the same sickly green she’d seen before. This time she didn’t even bother neutralizing it, she just sent a bolt of gold blasting through it. The green energy wreathed and burned, falling away from the area of the wall that she had destroyed. She walked through and into his mind.

  All around her, sterile white and grey made up the walls and floors while more of the sick green energy moved past her. Jars and books lay neatly about her. She chuckled and called playfully, “Where are you?”

  A pale green beast came at her. Half ape, half cat, stitched together in the middle it looked dead. She flung more gold energy at it and it disintegrated. “Have it your way then,” she called and flung more energy at a group of jars by the wall. They exploded along with part of the wall behind them, revealing the color of rot behind. His physical screams reverberated through the rooms like an echo.

  Dahlia laughed again in delight and spun up a construct like the scythe she’d found in the soldiers heads. “I had hoped for a clean fight but I suppose this will do.” Then she released it and left, the sound of shattering jars and screeching beasts behind her.

  Back in her body, she looked down at the screaming man she held by the hair. He began to tear at his skull, trying to rip it open.

  “Pathetic. I really shouldn’t take pity on you.” She watched him apathetically for a moment. “I suppose I’ll show you the mercy you couldn’t show others.”

  She dropped him to the floor, took her axes her puppets had collected for her, and brought one down through his neck. His screams stopped as blood poured out, a clean death he didn’t deserve.

  She turned back to see Horan stirring. “What, that didn’t break you?” she asked rhetorically, walking over and placing an ax against his neck.

  Eyes still trying to regain focus looked at her. “Mercy,” rolled brokenly from his lips.

  “Fresh out,” she said, pulled back, and swung. The former captain’s blood joined his fellow conspirator’s on the floor.

  She dropped to her knees by the wounded lieutenant. Blood was trickling down from his mouth but he was still able to hold himself up on hands and knees. He pulled his head up to meet her gaze.

  “Dahlia, your eyes…” he choked out.

  “Shhh...just stay quiet,” she told him. Two puppets came and picked him up. “They’ll take you to the infirmary.”

  She watched as they carried him out, his red mane, the
ends slick with blood, caught against his neck as his head rolled back into unconsciousness.

  She walked over to where Genji lay. He was bloody and had been badly hurt. Horan’s work, she imagined. She put a hand up to his nose and mouth and stayed still. After a moment she felt a weak breath against her palm. She pulled him up to her.

  “Oh Genji, please stay alive for me,” she whispered as she held him for a moment.

  She thought she felt his presence strengthen and then fade back. Two more puppets gathered him up from her and followed Traedon to the infirmary. Dahlia allowed the last two to wrap her wounds with clean cloth she found near the table. Then she stood up, went to Ahriman’s body, and pulled out the draconite he’d placed in his pocket. She couldn’t think of anywhere safer for the moment so she put it in her own pocket and left the room, the two headless bodies remaining as testament to the deal she’d made.

  It had been a hell of a deal and she still had more to do.

  Chapter Forty Seven

  She made her way out of the research building to see the glow of fire in the distance. She took off, her new speed almost tripping her up this time as her body adjusted, and ran in that direction. She reached out for Kenny and found she could locate him faster and more clearly than before. She felt the predator close the the surface and felt a sudden pull at her own consciousness. She pushed herself back and cut the connection. Her awareness of him continued to linger on the edge of her mind.

  Damn, what now?

  She reached out tentatively towards Borreal. She found him faster and more clearly as well, but she didn’t feel the pull on her consciousness. Odd. She added it to the list of things to worry about once they’d all survived.

  Coming to the mass of fighters defending Barrack Nine she found Mazaran had taken command. Standing above the battle on a platform made of whatever barrier he’d manifested, he shouted out orders to the soldiers below. Occasionally someone took a shot at him but everything just stopped a solid six inches from him. Dahlia marveled at his abilities. To be that confident, he must be neigh untouchable.