The Esoteric Design

by A. R. Crebs

  “James…” Aria whispered.

  “Don’t pay any attention to that; we’ll deal with that later,” Troy’s voice echoed in her mind.

  Eyes darting around the room, trying to catch a familiar face behind an unknown mask, Aria looked for the man. Glancing up toward the golden elevator, she caught the form of a man unclasping his buttons around the wrist of his dress shirt. He rolled the sleeves slightly over the top of his stark-black dress coat, revealing tattoos on his forearms. The suit overall had a slim fit, hugging his frame as he descended the stairs and worked at adjusting his dark tie that was partially hidden beneath a matching black vest. To top it off, he wore a black porcelain mask. Silver lined the eyes and edges up to a single cobalt-blue gem in the center of his forehead, matching the color of Aria’s dress. The clean, sleek look of the man’s suit was slightly off balance compared to his facial hair and messy brown locks.

  Aria smirked, catching his nervous expression as he strode toward her.

  “I like the suit,” she said with amusement. “You clean up well, Troy.”

  Luckily, he wasn’t hard to pick out from the other people in the crowd. His posture gave him away, if not for the cocky grin he always held on his unshaven face.

  “Eh, it’s the suit.” He shrugged casually. Relaxing a bit, he quickly snatched her glass and set it on a side table then grabbed her hands and pulled her toward the dance floor. Placing a hand on her hip and clasping his other in one of her own, he gave her a look-over.

  Truthfully, Troy had never seen Aria dress up for anything outside of funerals, and for those occasions she always wore her little black dress. Now, she was dolled up in bright blues, the color matching the streak in her pulled-up hair. Her dark strands spiraled toward the back and spiked out slightly as it piled on her head. A slant of her bangs fell over her mask, trying to cover one of her green eyes that were highlighted by dark makeup. Troy never realized she even knew how to make herself up, not that she needed to. She wasn’t ever unpleasant to look at. Still, Aria didn’t know that.

  “You look really beautiful,” he said quietly.

  Aria’s mouth twisted into an expression revealing that she believed differently.

  “In fact, you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire room,” he said. “Not lying.”

  She gave him an awkward smile before mumbling a thank you, avoiding his eyes.

  “That’s why everyone’s staring at you,” he whispered, closing the space between them as they casually danced to the music.

  Aria lifted her head, looking around nervously. “They are not,” she said quickly.

  Troy chuckled, his fingers moving between hers. After a moment of silence, Aria finally grinned again.

  “Nice mask,” she said. Finding his olive-green eyes helped calm her nerves in the crowded room.

  “You like it?” he asked. “It had feathers in it, but I tore them out.”

  “Troy!” Aria slapped him on the shoulder.

  “No, seriously, I looked like a freakin’ peacock!”

  Giving a small giggle, she said, “You don’t even know what a peacock is.”

  “I’ve seen a picture once,” he chuckled, the sound merging with hers. Troy watched her as they danced between the other couples. “You should really smile more.”

  On instinct, Aria frowned.

  “No! I said smile! Not frown!” He poked the side of her cheek, forcing another giggle from the woman. After a second of listening to her melodious laugh, Troy leaned in very close and whispered, “See? It suits you very well.”

  He pointed to the side where a large mirror was hanging on the wall. Aria twisted her head, looking at the reflection of her and Troy pressed against one another. She didn’t notice her own smile, but looked upon her and the man so close. One of each of their hands clasped together, her palm on his shoulder, his other resting low on her hip. And she noticed the large smile on his face as he looked at her with eyes that showed appreciation. Biting her lip, she turned her attention back to him and smiled.

  “What does? You being so close to me?” she asked.

  Troy quickly tore his eyes away from the mirror, gaping at Aria with a shocked expression. He gave a small hitch in his breath as he began to speak but then paused momentarily. She laughed. Troy was never speechless; this was certainly a first.

  Lifting a palm, he placed it gently against her cheek. “I think that suits you very well, too,” he said quietly.

  And, for the first time, Aria didn’t know how to reply. Was he serious? Usually he joked about things like that, but seeing the look in his eyes told her differently. Troy usually reserved words like that for other girls, not her. But this was the first time she had ever seen Troy say something so sweet with such an earnest look.

  “Are you kid–” she began to speak.

  “Shut up,” he whispered, finally leaning down to kiss her.

  Aria’s body was tense at first when feeling Troy’s lips upon hers. A flurry of thoughts dashed through her mind. A million ‘what ifs’ and a hundred ‘buts’ crashed together, and as Troy added a second hand to cup her face and gently deepened the kiss, she didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered. It was the first time she felt like not giving a damn about anything. She wrapped her arms around him, suddenly needing him more than ever.

  “Why don’t you kiss me like that?” a woman articulated aloud to her significant other.

  Troy hummed a laugh, his mouth still pressed against Aria’s. He pulled away but still held her against him. Hearing the other woman’s protest made Aria blush, heat rising to her face. She peered nervously up at the man, slowly running her hands down his back to sit at his waist. Her fingers trailed over something strapped to his lower back.

  “Is that your gun in your pocket?” she asked with amusement.

  “Yup, the latest Bio-Tech model in handguns–a .50 caliber Liberty Eagle with Ignition rounds coupled with EMP vibrations,” he said.

  “Love it when you talk dirty,” she growled.

  Troy laughed quietly. “Are you armed? Can you even hide a gun in that dress?” he asked curiously.

  Aria grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her thigh. Troy flushed a bit as she wrapped her leg around his and lifted slightly, causing the dress to part at a slit. Eyes flickering in the bright light, she guided his hand up her thigh to where a small gun was holstered.

  “Oh, I really like this dress a lot,” he muttered.

  “Mini Liberty Eagle,” she whispered. “Want to know where I keep the extra ammunition?”

  Troy nearly choked, his face turning beet-red beneath his mask. Aria gave him a mischievous grin. The low tone of the massive, antique grandfather clock chimed at the close of the slow song, noisily beating twelve times for midnight as the DJs prepared the next tune. Troy moved his hand, scratching the top of his head as he cleared his throat.

  “Would you like a drink? I think I would like a drink,” he sputtered quickly.

  Giving a small laugh, Aria replied, “Sure.”

  Parting slowly, he winked. “I’ll be right back.”

  As Troy walked away, rubbing the back of his neck, Aria remembered she was surrounded by people. She shivered slightly, the warmth of Troy’s body now gone. Funny, she had felt so bold only moments before. Now she felt completely self-conscious as eyes darted in her direction from jealous wives and curious men. Aria took a step back, intending to leave the massive group and return to her lonely corner of the room when she bumped into someone. She gasped, feeling two hands steady her.

  “Having fun?” a familiar, warm voice whispered in her ear from behind.

  Aria froze, recognizing the tone instantly.

  ‘It isn’t Gavin,’ she reminded herself. She closed her eyes, feeling a hand run across her stomach. A sharp claw dug into her cheek, trailing delicately against her face so not to blemish her skin.

  “Euclid,” she hissed, knowing it was he who was teasing her.

  She struggled, but he
quickly locked her in place from behind. With a hand lifting to grip her face, he trailed his claw over her cheek once again, this time a bit harder.

  “You know, I can kill you so easily right now in this room, and no one would even know,” he whispered in her ear, gripping her wrists tightly together. “He would never know. I can drag you far away from here and be on another continent in seconds. He’d never see you again.”

  Aria gritted her teeth, trying to pry free from his grasp. From where she stood, she could see Troy standing at the bar, ordering the two drinks.

  “You could be mine,” he whispered harshly. A hand gripped her waist, pulling her against his chest. “Forever.”

  “Fuck off,” she spat.

  Growling, he tightened his grip on her wrists, bruising them. “You stand no chance. You’ve never stood a chance. Give up your fight.”

  “Never.”

  “Then you will die a horrific death, and I will make sure he sees the whole thing. But before I do, I’ll make sure you watch him endure the worst pains first. He will suffer as I cut him limb from limb and chain him to a wall in pieces, making sure to keep him alive long enough for me to do the same to you!” Euclid placed vivid mental pictures into Aria’s mind of his horrifying promise. Each image made her heart skip a beat and left a sour taste in her mouth. Euclid laughed, the sound creating more fear within the woman as she watched Troy turn and lock eyes with her. “I will paint the walls red with your filthy blood.”

  The first thing Troy noticed was Aria’s pale and frightened expression, and then he saw the large silhouette behind her. Dropping the glasses of champagne, he reached behind him, gripping the weapon that hid underneath his dress coat. He darted into the ballroom, his footsteps moving in slow motion as Aria endured Euclid’s horrid laughter in her ears and felt his wet kiss against her cheek before he released her and disappeared. She instantly pulled the small gun from her thigh holster and scanned the room for the azure Sorcēarian.

  “Are you alright?” Troy asked, planting a hand firmly on her shoulder.

  “Euclid’s here. We’ve got to find the others,” she said, her authoritative voice returning once again.

  The hallways seemed to narrow, creating long, thin, dark tunnels that stretched toward the orange glow–small specks of color–from the windows that appeared so far away. Ivory stumbled, her delicate hand shakily grasping for the wall. The textures seemed to scrape against her skin, causing pinpricks. It was cold, but she didn’t feel cold. Something inside her told her it was cold. The wall was icy, the wall was rough, and the wall was painted in a dark maroon with gold spirals. Her eyes looked toward the small light, her pupils shifting, trying to adjust to the darkness. She felt dizzy; she felt sick. But she couldn’t remember ever feeling sick. She couldn’t remember the last time she was sick. What did sick feel like? Did it feel like this?

  Ivory shuddered, her head dropping momentarily as she remembered lying on a large bed with satin sheets. The cloth was so soft. The fur blanket that was sprawled over the top was thick and fluffy. It kept her warm in the stone room where billowing curtains blew between pillars of marble from the open wall. The soft trickle of rain dripped onto the floor, echoed in mimicking splashes as the droplets fell into the giant fountain that lay in the garden just outside. The open air had a sweet smell from the wet orchids. A low rumble of thunder sounded, and it was soothing, comforting.

  ‘No, not my memory.’ Ivory frowned, trying to suppress the sadness that consumed her.

  She stumbled, falling from one corner of the hall into the wall on the other side. A loud gasp erupted from her lips as her hand gripped her chest. Was she dying? Was this what death felt like? She couldn’t remember the last time she died.

  “No,” she whispered. She reached out toward the light in the window, still hearing the sound of rain. Was it raining? Did it rain in Roma?

  She could remember the feel of the rain. It was cold; the heavy droplets were almost painful as they crashed against her body, the trickles tinkling against the metal of her heavy armor. She felt numb. She couldn’t move her fingers. Involuntarily, she twitched. With a shaking hand, she touched her stomach, feeling the warm red liquid that gushed from her wound. It was a painful wound, and she remembered feeling the life pour out of her.

  “No,” Ivory mumbled again. “Not mine.”

  Her body was locked into place. She couldn’t move. All she could do was stare upwards at the dark sky and watch the rain fall toward her. In a flicker of bright light and a roar of thunder, a black-winged mass shot out of one of the towers. She felt utterly hopeless then, her heart breaking into two. Another burst of light shot out, and the clouds filtered a small speck of white light. It spread, eating the whole sky, and spewed down toward her. Within seconds, all of her pain and fears were gone, consumed and eaten away. And all she felt was nothing.

  “Not my memories,” Ivory whimpered, falling to her knees.

  Everything was dark. The pale-orange glow from the outside world flickered through her warped vision. The booming sound of the music was far away to her ears as she listened to the raging storm outside, the water hitting the windowpane only an arm’s length away.

  “…There can be no darkness,” she whispered, “without light.”

  Her body twitched again, causing her back to arch painfully. A loud groan erupted from her lips, and Ivory was fighting again, fighting for control over her body, control over her memories.

  “And the one who brings the light can extinguish the darkness,” a foreign voice whispered in the woman’s mind. “Because you cannot have one without the other. There’s got to be a delicate balance. If you let one consume the other, then it destroys.”

  Ivory moaned; her seizure worsened. She stared at the ceiling but couldn’t see it. Everything was black, the orange glow was gone. Ivory was consumed by darkness. Twitching, her mind lost, her eyes gone, she was an empty vessel convulsing in the center of an empty hall inside a hotel. She felt nothing, had no awareness. Therefore, she did not feel the hand on her shoulder, could not see the wicked smile, the glowing blue eyes, nor hear the dark laugh erupt from Euclid as he lifted her off the ground.

  “I told you, you cannot escape me. Run all you’d like, you’ll never get away from me,” he whispered harshly, staring at the trembling blonde in his arms.

  “Drop her!” Aria’s voice shouted from down the hall.

  “Release her now!” Troy’s voice boomed.

  Before Euclid could even acknowledge the intruders, he felt multiple rounds blast into his dorsal side, the ammunitions splattering and then burning hundreds of tiny splinters into his flesh. He turned slowly, ignoring the searing pain that ate away at his backside. He gripped the blonde tightly, his golden claws on his one hand digging into Ivory’s pale flesh.

  With white teeth showing, he growled, “You cannot win! Your petty weapons are no match! I will only heal just as I always do!”

  “Let her go!” Aria shouted.

  “Never,” he snarled. Slamming his hand against his chest, Euclid abruptly disappeared with Ivory, leaving Troy and Aria alone in the decorative hall. Thunder rumbled violently.

  On the outside of the Pendant Hotel, Dovian stood, watching the clouds in the sky slowly consume the stars. He could hear the drone of the strange music, music that he never would expect to hear in the traditional form of a masquerade. But then again, he hadn’t been to a masquerade in thousands of years. He was surprised the humans even had a single understanding of the ancient festival. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Aria dancing with Troy. For the first time he had met her, she looked genuinely happy. He was sorry he couldn’t say the same for himself. His mind was currently settled in its darkest recess, reminding the Sorcēarian of times that were once peaceful but were now agonizing.

  A flicker of light alerted the man back to the night sky. Thinning his bright eyes, he blinked as a raindrop splashed against the porcelain mask on his face, dripping onto his pale skin. He breathed in deeply, fe
eling a reminder of home as the humidity rose in the air, creating a wet, slightly sweet, smell. A dull thunder rolled in the distance, and more drops fell from the sky, clicking against the cobblestone walkway he was standing on. It was actually quite peaceful and very fitting for the mood he was in.

  A small laugh alerted Dovian. He looked to the side, catching a wandering couple as they traveled, drunk, into an alleyway. Moving his sights over the expanse, he noticed how barren the outside currently was. The Sorcēarian walked away from the hotel, taking large, slow steps toward a pole where a giant lantern was raised.

  ‘There can be no darkness without light,’ he thought to himself, remembering a passage from the second book his people were expected to memorize.

  Dovian tightly closed his eyes, remembering I’Lanthe’s words from long ago.

  “I believe everyone has a little bit of both. No one can truly be consumed by one or the other. I don’t believe anyone is truly 100% evil.”

  Dovian sighed, feeling his depression sink further. “My dear, you were so wrong,” he mumbled.

  Thunder clapped again, and Dovian gripped his staff, his knuckles turning white. He grimaced, eyes closed, and choked out a painful cry as the rain brought back horrible memories.

  He remembered I’Lanthe laughing. The sound of her voice was high, echoing against the walls of her private garden. He chased her indoors, watched her leap onto her bed and hide under the covers. The smell of the orchids was as vivid in his memory as they were in real life. He could remember the feel of the smooth cloth of her satin sheets as he tickled her through the blankets. She screamed a shrill cry mixed with laughter as he mockingly attacked her. The crisp air made his nostrils tingle with the smell of spring showers.

  Dovian shuddered. The memory faded from her giggling shriek to nothing but a horrible scream. His mind flashed with gruesome images of death–bodies lining the red-stained grass as far as the eye could see. Atop a mountain of bodies lay one very familiar form. Her blood was drained. Her skin was white, the violet tattoo on her cheekbone looking like a dark scar blending with the red smears of blood. Lavender eyes looked at him, the glow extinguished from them. Ice-cold, her dead body was nearly weightless as he lifted her, holding her tightly.