“Serena?” I asked, wondering what she was doing.
A look of relief passed her face.
“It’s just Bijarki and Draven in there. I didn’t want to go in alone,” she replied, laughing at her trepidation. I didn’t blame her. I would have done the same in her position, though it surprised me that Serena felt the same way. Normally she was bold—sometimes too bold. It wasn’t like her.
“Come on,” Aida instructed. “I’m starving. We can make awkward conversation till the boys get here—are they still upstairs?”
“I think so.” Serena nodded. “They’re not outside.”
Aida pushed the door open. The Druid and Bijarki had obviously been deep in hushed conversation, but when we entered, they both closed their mouths. Bijarki rose to his feet, moving the chair next to him back from the table and gesturing for me to sit down.
“Bijarki,” the Druid bit out. It was a warning, and I moved around to the opposite side of the table, pretending I hadn’t seen the proffered chair. Aida and Serena sat on either side of me, Serena closest to the Druid, and Aida closest to the door.
“What have we got tonight?” Serena asked as a joke, lifting the warming plate to reveal the same meal we’d had every night since we’d arrived.
The Druid semi-smiled, drinking from his glass.
“You’ll get used to it,” he replied dryly. I looked over at his place setting. As usual, there was nothing there. It struck me as very odd that we hadn’t seen him eat once since we’d arrived. It wasn’t like he was wasting away—his broad form must have needed some sustenance, and the idea that he chose not to eat in front of us unnerved me. Serena glanced over at his absence of food.
“Not eating again?” she asked.
“I’ve already—”
“You’ve already eaten, right,” she replied, finishing the Druid’s sentence with a frustrated sigh. “Another mystery that you won’t give us an answer to.”
“Did you speak to your friends about the clothing?” the Druid replied, ignoring her comment.
“Oh, no.” Serena turned to us with an apologetic shrug. “There are more clothes in the attic, if either of you want them.”
“That would be good,” Aida replied, pulling at her tank top. “Be nice to wear something other than pajamas for a change.”
The door opened, and Jovi, Phoenix and Field walked in. They all had damp hair, dripping onto their evening shirts. They smiled in our direction and nodded a silent greeting to the Druid and Bijarki. Jovi took a seat next to the incubus, both of them clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement.
“We wanted to know if you’d made any plans,” Field began, directing his question at the Druid. “What will happen once they’re adequately trained as Oracles? Are we waiting for a vision to tell us what to do?”
“We are waiting for a vision, yes. Until then, there’s not a lot we can do,” Draven replied. He glanced over at Serena, as if expecting her to argue with him, but she remained quiet.
“What about the incubi?” Field countered. “Can’t they be of some help, if there’s an entire army ready to bring down Azazel?”
“It wasn’t exactly a big army,” Aida added. “I can’t see them making much of a difference.”
“We can’t rely on the incubi,” Bijarki interjected before Draven could reply. “Most of them, and no doubt some of the remaining force that Aida saw in her vision, are already aligned with Azazel. They can’t be trusted. Too many families have been torn apart by him and the Destroyers. Some family members joined him willingly, while others vowed to fight against him—but then, of course, blood proved to be thicker than water, making many incubi in the army turn traitor to help family members who were already under Azazel’s rule. Kristos and I were betrayed by someone—we were sure of it.”
“And what about your family members?” Serena asked.
“Already lost to me.”
Silence fell over the table, with only the sound of cutlery scraping against the plates. I looked down, busying myself with eating until someone changed the conversation. After a while, I could feel Bijarki watching me. I put down my knife and fork, appetite gone. When I looked up, his gaze was swiftly averted, but I noticed that the Druid was frowning at him. Another warning.
“There must be some,” Field continued awkwardly. “Some incubi who would be ready to fight if need be. What about the chief or leader’s son Aida saw in her vision? He seemed willing to wait for you.” He turned to Draven. “He obviously trusts that you’ll come through for them.”
“He’s Kristos’s brother,” Bijarki replied quietly. “Sverik. He was meant to join us on the mission, but his father found out his plan and forbade it. Sverik was always the favorite son—and their father, Arid, wouldn’t let him join us on such a dangerous mission. And as you heard, he doesn’t trust Draven either. I believe the traitor was in his ranks—perhaps even Arid himself, though I’m not sure what he would stand to gain.”
“But what about Sverik—can’t we somehow get a message to him directly? If they march on Azazel, they’re going to die, right?” Aida looked distraught. It took me by surprise how much the incubus in the vision had moved her with his plight and garnered her empathy. Bijarki looked over at Draven, waiting for him to respond.
The Druid was silent for a few moments, staring into his empty glass.
“Perhaps we can contact him,” he replied eventually. “But we would need to be careful. Is it something you’d be willing to do?” Draven directed his question at the incubus, who nodded.
“I owe it to Kristos.”
“Then we will find a way,” agreed Draven.
“What about the others?” Aida asked earnestly. “Are there any that we can trust?”
Bijarki looked doubtful, and seemed to be contemplating his answer when a strange thing happened. As soon as my gaze settled on him, waiting for what he would say, he looked up at me, his eyes alight, as if I was the only person in the whole world he wanted to see in that moment.
“Bijarki!” Draven snapped at him. The incubus shook his head, turning his attention back to Aida.
“What were you saying?” he asked politely.
Aida, Serena and I looked at one another in confusion. The boys had been sitting on his side of the table, and so hadn’t seen the sudden change come over the incubus. Instead, they were looking at Draven, not understanding where the sudden outburst had come from.
“I was asking if it would be safe to inform any of the other incubi that we’re here, that there might be hope?” Aida repeated herself slowly.
“I don’t think so,” Bijarki replied, focused again, as if the last few moments hadn’t happened at all. “It’s too risky. I don’t know who is loyal to Arid and who is loyal to Sverik. I’ve been away too long, and none of them will trust me, especially when they find out about Kristos’s death.”
“Are there other creatures we can trust who might be able to help?” Jovi asked. “I mean, besides the Druids and the incubi, what other supernaturals are here? Not counting the shape-shifters, of course,” he added. I felt Serena shudder slightly at the reference to the creatures she’d followed into the swamp. I had only heard the account second-hand, but even that had been enough to freak me out and make me dread what other inhabitants Eritopia might contain.
“Many,” the Druid replied curtly, “but none that you’d wish to know, trust me. Not on this star, anyway. There are others elsewhere in Eritopia’s galaxy—the Deargs, the Sluaghs, the Kelpie, Lamias…and many more that you wouldn’t wish to know.”
I’d heard of none of these creatures, and I doubt any other GASP members had either.
“And the storm hounds?” Serena asked. “We saw them on a map, marked near the house. I take it they’re as deadly as they sound?”
“Actually, no,” Draven replied with a smile. “The storm hounds were harmless—and useful. They were attuned to evil thoughts and deeds. When the Destroyers approached the area, the storm hounds would give warning.”
“The Destroyers hunted them to extinction. They didn’t appreciate the hounds providing a warning whenever they approached.”
It sounded like none of the supernatural species were free from Azazel’s tyranny. Once again, I started to feel a small bubble of anxiety press on my chest. If Azazel could kill and destroy so many, then what chance did we have against him—especially when he could see us coming through the visions of the Oracle?
“What does he want?” Field asked Draven. “Azazel, I mean. It seems like he’s bent on destroying everything. What’s his goal?”
“Power,” Draven replied simply.
All of us kept our gaze on the Druid, waiting for him to elaborate. The whole room was silent for a few moments, and you could have heard a pin drop. Then, with what seemed like a great deal of reluctance, Draven spoke.
“The Druids were originally a peaceful people. We lived within our citadels, each clan specializing in certain knowledge and influence. There were the lawmakers, those who kept the peace, the book keepers who guarded our sacred texts, the botanists who kept the magic of nature, and the philosophers, who were the highest-ranking of all the Druids, combining the knowledge of all four disciplines. There were six leading philosophers—my father was one, and Azazel was another.
“From the start—according to my father, of course; I was not even born when he was elevated to position of philosopher—Azazel failed to see the benefits of the democratic system that the Druids adhered to. He was greedy for absolute power, frequently enraged by the fact that the philosophers gave the other disciplines such a free rein. Letting them rule themselves, in a sense, with little intervention. Azazel must have realized at some point how much power he could wield throughout Eritopia if only the other philosophers were removed from their position and it was he alone who commanded the citadels.
“His first move was to slaughter the rest of the philosophers. A few, like my father, managed to get away. But they went into hiding.” At this, Draven curled his lip into a sneer. I wondered why he disagreed with them running and hiding. Wasn’t he doing exactly the same thing now?
“Azazel was free to rule the citadels. With the help of an Oracle, one long dead now, he managed to make his power absolute. There was uprising after uprising—whether he expected this or not, I do not know. But he slaughtered freely. So much blood was spilt in those first years.”
“But what about the Destroyers?” Serena asked after a pause. “Where does that species come from?”
Draven smirked, but his eyes were deeply pained, tightening at the corners, as if he was recalling a distinctly painful and distasteful memory.
“The Destroyers are Druids. Those who joined Azazel rather than fight against him.”
“What?” Serena retorted, echoing my own thoughts. “But they’re half snake, right? How can that happen?”
“They are,” Draven replied softly.
Serena opened her mouth to speak again, unsatisfied, as we all were, at his answer.
“That’s enough,” Draven replied. “Enough for tonight. I need to leave. Training will commence tomorrow morning again.” He stood up, and abruptly left the table. I glanced toward Bijarki, and met his stare head on. His eyes were bright again, and I got the distinct impression that he’d been watching me for a long time, but I’d been too engrossed in the Druid’s story to notice. It was unnerving.
What is his deal?
“Bijarki, I wish to speak with you,” Draven called from the door.
The incubus stood up from his chair and, giving a small bow in the direction of Serena, Aida and me, wished us a good night.
Serena
We all left the dinner table and walked upstairs to our bedrooms. I was in a complete daze, mulling over the Druid’s story. The havoc that Azazel had wreaked on Eritopia was clearly severe, but I felt that now I had more questions than answers. What struck me as strange was the lack of involvement of the Daughters. Weren’t they supposed to be protectors of the stars within the Eritopia region? Where had they been while all this was going on? And, if the Druids had known of an Oracle before Azazel’s uprising, why had they not seen that it was coming, done more to stop it? What confused me the most was the question that had gone unanswered—how had the Druids become half serpent? Was it some dark magic at play here, that they had become so evil and corrupted that they had taken on the form of such a creature? I shivered despite the still-humid heat that permeated the house. I would not sleep well tonight.
We parted at the top of the staircase, the boys going one way and us following Aida on to our room. None of us spoke. I guessed we were all reeling from the information that Draven had just imparted.
Another question I had was how the incubi fit into all of this. Had they lived peacefully with the Druids before Azazel’s uprising? To be honest, it did seem strange to me that two such different species would occupy the same space in harmony—it wasn’t GASP’s experience that such coexistence was easy, except for in The Shade, of course.
I turned to Vita, recalling the conversation we needed to have about the incubus. Tonight, he had acted particularly strangely, his eyes fixed on Vita as if she were something he wished to devour. It was worrying, more so because occasionally I felt that Vita almost succumbed to his spell…but perhaps I was wrong.
“I left out some of the conversation I overheard between Bijarki and the Druid when I went with Jovi and Field to spy on them,” I began once we were safely in the room with the door shut. “Draven warned Bijarki away from us in a way that made me think that we—or you, in particular—need to be wary of him. I just don’t trust him.”
Vita blushed furiously, looking embarrassed.
“Of course I will. I’m not interested, obviously,” she muttered.
Worried that I’d hurt her feelings, I blundered on. “It’s just that we don’t know much about them as a species. And what we do know, or what the myths say, well… it’s not great.”
Aida started laughing, collapsing back on the bed.
“If Bijarki’s attentions were on me the way they are on Vita, I doubt I’d be able to hold back. The guy’s smoking hot.”
“And a weirdo,” I retorted, rolling my eyes.
“He’s not a weirdo,” Aida replied. “He’s a cutie-pie. And has good taste.” She leered at Vita, and then fell about snorting again.
“Seriously? Anyway, you’re talking crap, you’ve only ever had eyes for Field—so you can stop pretending anyone else has a chance,” I said, smiling smugly as her eyes narrowed in my direction.
“Honestly, Serena,” Vita replied, smiling at last, “I’m fine. He does make me nervous, but I can hold my own. He’ll get bored soon anyway.”
“Okay,” I replied uncertainly. I didn’t believe that. I’d seen the way the incubus had looked at her—like she was his birthday and Christmas present rolled into one. He wasn’t going to get over that crush, or whatever it was, anytime soon. I made another vow that I would start researching incubi as soon as I could—there were thousands of books scattered about this place, one of them must contain some information on the species, even if it was just a few references in the history books of Eritopia.
Sleep didn’t come. The air was too hot, and I kept going over Draven’s story in my mind, trying to make sense of it all. It must have been around midnight when I gave up trying to rest and decided that I would have a better chance of dropping off reading something—namely, Elissa’s diary.
I picked up the still-lit lamp, and carried it out into the corridor. The house was completely silent, the loudest noise coming from the thumping inside my ribcage as I tried to avert my eyes from the creepy stuffed animals and the hell, fire and brimstone ceiling murals.
Moving swiftly along to Elissa’s room, I pushed the door open and, placing the lamp I’d brought with me on the dresser, I lit another in the corner of the room, trying to remove some of the shadows that jutted out on the walls o
f the room.
Once again, I opened where I’d left off last.
Almus has left. He departed early yesterday morning, saying he would return in a few days. He hopes to find the remaining philosophers he suspects went into hiding in the mountains. He plans to return them here, and plan an attack of their own—aligning with the incubi and the Deargs to bring Azazel down. I can see nothing of his future. It has gone dark where he is concerned. I feel hopeless. Anxiety gnaws at me constantly, and the only thing I am able to do is keep my fears away from Draven as best I can. He is such a sweet boy—he has his father’s eyes, and his temperament too. I love him like he was my own child, and hope for his sake more than my own that the vision I had of the three of us crossing a safe path through the jungle to the nearest citadel is one that begins here.
I turned the page, eager to know what came next. Before I could read the first line, I almost jumped out of my skin as the door was pushed open. Draven stood in the doorway, looking mildly amused at the fright he’d just given me.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I grumbled.
“Sorry, I—” He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze resting on the leather-bound diary. “Where did you find that?” he asked coldly.
“In the drawer—the dresser,” I replied meekly, feeling guilty for snooping around and reading the private thoughts of a woman who, for all intents and purposes, was his mother. He leaned over, taking the book from my hand. I let him, watching as he gently caressed the leather of the notebook.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“It’s all right,” he muttered after a pause.
He handed the book back to me, his gray eyes sorrowful. I placed it beside me, wondering why he had ventured up here in the first place. From his reaction, I didn’t think he’d known the diary was still here.
“What happened to her?” I asked again, knowing I was pushing my luck.
“Not tonight, Serena. I’ve told you enough. Let some ghosts lie.”
I stayed silent for once—ignoring the burning need I had to know more about her, to finally put her to rest.
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