Coven Master

by W. J. May

  That was how Atlanta felt when her eyes settled on Darian. She didn’t speak it, but he could feel her every thought race through her head.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Darian cocked his head to one side, as if uncertain she was listening to him. “My friend Raul knows your uncle.”

  Knew my uncle. He’s dead. She suddenly felt lost, her knees shaking as her mind tingled with some foreign feeling inside of her, a feeling she probably never even realized she felt, or had forgotten in the midst of the loss of reality that followed. Somehow, she’d lost her voice. Maybe it was realizing her uncle was gone. Or that she wasn’t alone. She felt this stranger called Darian probed her mind, trying to find the words she couldn’t seem to utter, and a wall instantly shot up against him.

  Darian frowned and tried again, apparently unaccustomed to being shut out in this manner. But with all his intelligence and his skill, piercing her eyes with his mind’s persistent needles, he couldn’t break through.

  He looked at Raul, who only shrugged. His friend mouthed the word shock, and then returned his gaze to Atlanta.

  Her heart pounded quickly, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. She sensed Darian could feel the strain she was going through, the confusion mixed with uncertainty that engulfed her. Then, the pounding ceased. Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy, though she tried to keep them open. She was going to faint. Her body dropped like a feather as her arms flailed around.

  Her elbows rested on Darian’s arms as he rushed to intercept her.

  “Raul!”

  The other man rushed to his side, helping him as they tried to keep Atlanta steady. She fought against the darkness but couldn’t seem to overcome it.

  She felt Darian lift her, catching a quick glimpse of her eyes as they fluttered open and then half closed again. He turned and looked at Raul, but his friend didn’t seem at all surprised at the state she was in.

  She knew she was frail and her skin pale. Her crimson suit was dusty and covered in blood. It was shadowed by the gray that brushed itself over the back of his suit.

  “She seems to have been here a while,” Raul said as he stood behind Darian, taking in the utter devastation of the Dome.

  Atlanta heard their conversation, as if in a dream. She had nothing left in her, except to fight to stay semi-conscious.

  “She needs food, and water.” Darian added in a whisper, “We have to take her somewhere safe.”

  “There’s one place that should still be safe for the time being,” Raul declared, his voice sounding weary, as if afraid of more attackers. “The basement of her house.”

  “Let’s go.” Darian swung around, and Atlanta felt the room continue to spin long after he’d stopped.

  “James told me there’s a secret passage in their basement, leading to tunnels under the city, but we have to figure out how to find it.”

  Darian only nodded, and Raul began to lead him out of the Dome.

  Atlanta felt only a little heat on her face, thinking that the sun may have already set. She didn’t know that it was still obscured by the dust that reigned over the city. She fought against the waves of darkness begging to take her away, and forced her eyes to open. It took everything last bit of strength she had to gaze at the horizon. Something bitterly peculiar was taking over. Green mist lit the swollen clouds, and everything that was above them turned several shades darker. It was as if seeds had been scattered across the bed of the sky and were shooting their roots upwards in fingers of lightning. Atlanta let her eyes fall shut as Darian carried her, marching behind the other man leading the way. There was no comfort in what she saw, and it was clear that, come night, the city would be forced to endure a wave of deadly attacks.

  She tried to figure out what the sky was trying to warn her of. Maybe it was a dream. But she knew better. She knew who was now in control of the city, what wicked force was at play. Adelaide.

  She felt the man’s hands clench into fists, heating up with rage. She sensed his thoughts as she finally gave into the darkness.

  I’m going stop you, Adelaide, he promised. I will bring an end to your reign of terror.

  Chapter 8

  For days, Atlanta lay surrounded by nothing but the silence of the dark underground, and the bleeding of her mind. She felt a void take the place of her heart, and when she tried to fill it with memories or a glimmer of hope her mind would fail her, and she’d end up with a heart filled with the trembles of bitter emotions.

  She was lost, forgotten, failing to even recognize her own self.

  The bitterness in Atlanta’s heart was the product of a series of happenings which had her question why she’d ever replaced resentment with patience and content. She was a fool, and would spend the rest of her days resenting herself for letting the person who caused James’ death into her life.

  She used me. She played me. She knew exactly what to do and when.

  She realized everything that lay outside the Dome and in the ruins of the city was for her eyes to see, for her mind to contemplate, and for her conscience to bear. She was being punished. Even though she knew she had been under some spell when she’d opened the door, she still heard the voices in her ears and had opened the door with her own hand.

  This is all my fault. I don’t deserve to wake up.

  Except I’m hiding now. This is my fault. I can’t hide from that.

  Her mind flooded with obscure thoughts, and suddenly she felt like she could sense the touch of warm air on her skin. The fog in her mind began dissipating, and she slowly felt herself rise out of the abyss she had been settling in.

  Where am I?

  She didn’t dare open her eyes, fearing that she might wake up to find herself still in that wretched place beneath the Dome, lying on the cold ground, inches away from the circle of candles. This time James wouldn’t be with her, though. She would be alone.

  But a part of her was sure that wasn’t the case. She felt a sudden sense of familiarity and an odd feeling of security that she hadn’t felt in some time. She could sense the smell of books mixed with the aroma of the leather that soaked the basement of her house. She opened her eyes slowly, the lights blinding her for a moment and the fluorescence beamed through every corner and in every direction.

  A shadow was forming on the ceiling above her, almost as if the light was coming out of her own body and reflecting off an object right above her. As the blur began sharpening, she recognized it was a face.

  For a second, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. As if it was all another one of those malicious tricks that her mind entertained. James’ face was unmistakable, gazing down at her with concern in his eyes. His face shone from the sides, and his deep-brown eyes glittered. Slowly, his features darkened, and his eyes turned to a deep blue.

  “Raul, she’s waking up.”

  A second shadow came into view, but Atlanta barely noticed it. She was captivated by the deep blue gazing down at her. Her vision sharpened, and she looked at the face of the man from the Dome, the man who had introduced himself as Darian.

  “Easy,” Darian whispered. “Don’t make any sudden moves. What’s left of your strength is barely keeping you alive.”

  She realized she lay on the couch beside the bookshelves in the basement of her house. Both men were standing above her, their eyes fixed on her own. It took her a minute before she recognized the slim figure of Raul, and her mind related him to that morning he was with James in the living room of their house. Even though Darian’s face was still alien to her, there was something about his leaning over her that brought comfort to both her sleeping and her now-awakened mind.

  Her eyes opened wide and she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. She alternated glances at the two men standing above her, then turned her eyes towards the books, then the training area. The weight that had been lifted off her chest suddenly returned, the memories rushing back to her like feral waves down her spine. She turned towards Darian again.

  He had his back t
o her and was saying something to Raul, but her ears had still not started functioning properly and the voices were nothing more than muffled whispers.

  Darian turned again and stared at her, his lips moving. She cocked her head to one side, confused. She couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  His words became soft whispers, and the whispers seemed as if they were being spoken under water. She felt them crawling up her spine and brushing the back of her neck like goose bumps. The voice was processed by her sense of touch and not her hearing, and once it reached her ears the frequency of the sound peaked and reached a horrendous crescendo. The pain resonated through her brain like the stabbing of a thousand knives. She screamed, and jumped from where she was lying and onto the floor. She leaned her back against the bottom of the couch and held her ears with both hands.

  Darian and Raul came rushing forward and leaned down in surprise.

  “Are you okay?” Darian asked calmly as he bent down and rested his right hand on her shivering shoulders.

  Atlanta froze as her body suddenly let go of all pain. Did he just do that? She shook her head slowly. It was probably only a coincidence. “I-I’m fine,” Atlanta replied thickly. “I’m okay. I think.”

  She tried to brush away the concern that her mind confused with pity, but her body did not even attempt to shake off his hands from her shoulders.

  Raul stood and took a few steps back, and she was thankful of the small gesture that made her feel less cornered. He gazed at Darian who, in turn, signaled with his head towards the table on the other side. Raul disappeared into the periphery of her vision, then returned with a glass of water.

  Darian took the glass from him and offered it to Atlanta, who hesitated before reaching for it with shaking hands. She looked from Darian to Raul, and suddenly felt helpless. She shook Darian’s hand off her shoulder, her strength returning in waves.

  Now is the time. She stood, drank the water quickly, then made her way towards the training area. She needed weapons and to test her strength before going out to find Adelaide.

  Darian hurried after her. “I’m sure this is very confusing, us being in your home and all. But I assure you, we mean you no harm.”

  “You were at the Dome.” Atlanta shrugged. It felt like a dream from long ago.

  “Yes, we were,” Darian replied. “We brought you here after you fainted. Allow me to introduce myself once more.”

  She stared into the emptiness of the walls, and still with her back turned to him, she sighed softly. “Darian,” she whispered.

  “You remember?”

  Atlanta merely nodded.

  “Then you know Raul?”

  “My uncle introduced him to me, briefly.”

  “I’m sorry about your uncle.” Darian’s voice dropped. “I understand you and he were close.”

  Atlanta suddenly felt like she couldn’t hold onto her composure any longer, and her knees began to shake. The mention of her uncle’s name by another person made his absence even more real. Her eyes stung with tears, and she felt one roll down her cheek.

  Yet she maintained the stiffness of her voice and breathed in the dust-free air. She wanted to turn around and face the man who had so easily made himself at home in her house, but she couldn’t. Not like this. Not with tears in her eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Darian.”

  She waved her hand. “I know that. Who are you?”

  Darian cleared his throat. “The Coven.”

  Atlanta nearly laughed. “The Coven’s a myth. It doesn’t exist.”

  It was Darian’s turn to scoff. “We exist when we’re needed,” he replied. “When the real world and that which we try to keep hidden collide. As it has in Calen.”

  Atlanta felt something scratch the inside of her head. Darian’s words left more questions than answers. Flashes of her battle in the Dome played across her eyes, and in the midst of them all a bright green burst of fire.

  “The hybrids,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Darian said. “I’ve been briefed on what happened.”

  There was no use hiding what had happened. Whatever Darian knew, he didn’t know it all. “I let them out,” she suddenly declared. “I opened the door.”

  “Atlanta,” Darian whispered as he reached for her hand. “I can feel you’ve been drowning in a spell your conscience is casting on you, but you must stop binding yourself by it.”

  What the hell? “Binding myself?” she sputtered as she spun around, jerking her wrist free and letting her hands ball into angry fists. “It’s called being honest with oneself. I saw the Dome. I saw the world outside. You think I’m going to hide the fact that this is all my fault?”

  “The dust is Adelaide’s,” Darian said. “The ruins are her making. You were used to open the door. You didn’t open it. You didn’t plan it. Your conscience is a labyrinth you’re trapping yourself in, and your mind will not stop before dragging your heart behind it like a dim shadow.”

  Where the heck was this guy from? Atlanta’s eyes widened and she glanced towards Raul. “Does he always talk like this?”

  “Atlanta,” Darian said, regaining her attention. “I can feel that you blame yourself for what’s happening in Calen. But you shouldn’t.”

  “You don’t know what happened,” Atlanta hissed. “Why are you talking as if you were there, as if you were inside my head?”

  “You’re right.” Darian nodded. “I have no clue what’s lurking inside your mind, but looking at you now, hearing your voice, seeing the tears in your eyes, I know what’s in your heart.”

  Atlanta stared in silence as his words found their way through her mind and to her heart. For a moment, she blocked what she was hearing because she knew it was softening the bitterness that had taken over her. She didn’t need comfort. She needed anger. She needed the fuel that would push her. And Darian wasn’t helping. “You know nothing about me,” she said. “Leave me alone.” She turned away from him and walked towards the stairs leading up to the house. She could see Raul head to intercept her and she stopped, eyeing him carefully, her gaze as threatening as her stance.

  “Let her go,” Darian said.

  Atlanta’s eyes narrowed as she looked from one man to the other. “And get the hell out of my house.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she made her way upstairs.

  Chapter 9

  “Don’t.”

  Atlanta didn’t hear Uncle James. Well, she heard him but just chose to ignore him. She didn’t even try to acknowledge his ghost-like whispering. She scanned the destruction around her, falling on one pile of debris after the other. The sand slapped against her face, her hair blowing around her head as she took in the scene before her.

  Her home was gone. The place she’d grown up in, fell asleep to the sounds of the maple outside scraping against her window, convinced her uncle not to cook and just order in. All that remained was a skeleton of a place that once used to be her haven; all that remained were ghosts of memories.

  “Don’t.”

  Atlanta turned to look at her uncle. James stood where the living room had once been. Three walls still stood, the third crumbled in a pile where parts of the second floor had collapsed. Only the couch remained, mangled under layers of dust. The rest of the furniture was gone.

  “Don’t what?” she whispered, almost to herself.

  James dusted a part of the couch and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He watched her as she took in what remained of her home. Dried blood was strewn across the walls of the hallway leading to the kitchen, and from where she stood she almost laughed at the sight of the stove standing tall with no wall behind it.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” James said. “And I’m telling you, don’t.”

  Atlanta felt tears well up in her eyes. Her hands rolled into tight fists, and she could feel her body shake in a mix of anger, frustration, and loss. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

  “But it did,” James replied. “That’s why I’m te
lling you, don’t blame yourself. What’s done is done. Right now, we have to think about what to do next. What to do to fix the situation.”

  Atlanta’s eyes burned, her tears leaving dark streaks as they rolled down the dust on her cheeks. She could feel the wind picking up, the storm around her intensifying, as if growing with her growing anger. “I’m going to kill her,” she hissed. “I’m going to find her and rip her apart. First I’ll tear her heart out.”

  James coughed, and scratched his beard. “I believe you, but let me remind you that there was very little you could do against Adelaide before. You need more than just your training.”

  Atlanta looked at her uncle and frowned. “She caught me off guard,” she said tersely. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Yes, you will,” James smiled at her, a loving smile, a fatherly smile that made her heart ache for the real him to be there, not just a wraith her mind was conjuring. “You went in high on emotions, and that’s exactly what you’re doing now. This’ll only end the same way it did before. Except, this time, Adelaide won’t be as generous with your life.”

  “I’ll be better prepared this time,” Atlanta insisted.

  “No, you won’t,” James replied. “You haven’t even noticed the Werewolf behind you.”

  Atlanta smiled at her uncle, her eyes darkening, a heat burning in them she had never felt before. “Actually, I did.”

  In one quick movement Atlanta drew her sword, fell to one knee and spun around, swinging upwards. Her blade swished through the storm around her, the thick sand obscuring her vision, her senses taking over. A terrible growl sounded above her head, and a heavy thud followed. In the swirl of sand, a paw fell into view.

  Her eyes burned hotter, and before she stood up she pulled one of her knives out of her belt and threw it towards the kitchen. She watched it fly towards nothing, spinning quickly in the air. Then, just as it flew over the threshold, a second Wolf appeared. The knife struck home and sent the beast to the ground.

  Atlanta stood up and walked towards the fallen Wolf. Her uncle appeared in the kitchen, gazing down in confusion at the fallen beast.