by Lucy Smoke
Obidian approaches. “You wanted to talk?” he asks.
“Madam Armaita,” I say, continuing to stare at the walls. The ivy is alive, it continues growing, ever climbing across the pink surface.
“This is about what she told you,” he says.
I turn to him, taking in his appearance. He’s changed since I last saw him. Not his physical form, but the way he’s dressed. Formal red and gold robes cover him from one side of his chest down. Matching pants that look like they are made from the softest fabric imaginable flows to the floor, where his dark-toned, bare feet stick out. He is a presence to be reckoned with—dark, commanding, tall, and as big and muscular as they come. Despite his youthful face—much like Madam Armaita—his eyes hold a wealth of time and wisdom beyond their never-ending depths.
“How do I kill a child of Death?” I ask.
His jaw ticks as he stares at me. “It may not be possible,” he says quietly.
No, I think. I refuse to believe that. Obi’s lips twitch as he hears my thoughts. “I didn’t say that it was impossible,” he says before his deep frown returns. “But you are still very new. Your powers have started to manifest in,” he pauses, discomfort evident in his features, “strange ways…” Obi trails off, looking away towards one of the windows.
I step closer to him. “What does that mean?” I demand.
“You’re… pulling from me,” he says with a sigh.
“Okay?” I don’t see the reason for his discomfort. It only makes sense to me that we would be connected so deeply. The burning, I realize, when Holden was in trouble. Obi was once a dragon in his original life—fire is his true ability. It’s not mine.
“Correct,” he says, reading my thoughts once more, “and we are connected, Nerys, but we should not be that connected. There is always a failsafe when it comes to daimons and their spirit guides. Only one other daimon has been able to pull powers from others.”
“Who?” I ask the question, but I have a feeling that I already know the answer and I’m not going to like it.
“Judas the Dark,” he says quietly.
I suck in a breath. I was right—so right—I don’t like the answer. “C-can it help me?” I ask, trying to pull something good from having something in common with the worst daimon of all time. Just because we both have a similar ability doesn’t mean I’m just like him. I don’t want to suck Obidian dry and use his powers to destroy the world, burning cities to ash and killing hundreds. I shake my head and think back to my original question. I focus my gaze at Obidian. “Can my abilities help me?” I demand. “Can I kill Edwin?”
Obidian watches me—his expression enigmatic. I can’t tell if he’s confused, curious, or completely unfeeling. He could be enraged or overjoyed and I would probably still be looking for clues.
“You’ll need training,” he finally says.
“Okay.” I nod. Training. I can definitely do training. “How do I do that?” I ask. “Who will train me? You?”
He shakes his head. “No, I can train you in ways of the mind. Here—” he gestures to my mind palace, “I can do so much, but once you are in the real world, I am limited.”
“Then we’ll just have to find someone to train me.” I nod. Yes, that will do. I’ll just train and work hard, and I’ll kill Edwin. There is a twinge in my chest. I don’t necessarily want to kill anyone, but I’ve already done so before for Holden and I’ll do it for the rest of my potentials if need be. They are my responsibility and I’ll do what I must to keep them safe. I’ve already failed Coen once, I can’t fail him again. Not him or the rest of them.
“It will be incredibly difficult,” Obi warns me as I move towards the doors he came through. “It will be like trying to teach you years’ worth of daimon abilities and history and knowledge in the span of…what? Weeks?”
I’m not even sure we have weeks. I suck in a shaky breath. “What choice do I have?” I ask. “Someone has to do it. It looks like that someone is me.” As much as I wish it weren’t.
I never thought the world would go down in flames like it is. Or at the very least, I thought it would take longer. Has it really only been a few short weeks since I escaped Euron with Coen, Holden, and Titus? Scant months since I met Obidian? It feels like it’s all happened overnight.
Obidian approaches me, his hand coming down on my shoulder as he turns me towards his large frame. He pulls me to him, hugging me awkwardly. I laugh. “Is this wrong?” he asks, dropping his arms. “Your mind was jumbled, and I could sense your fear and worry.”
I shake my head. “No, you did fine,” I say. “I am scared and worried, I can’t hide that. But I’ll be fine.” I hope. “I’ll sleep on it and then we’ll figure out how we’re going to go about training to kill Edwin.”
I move again, stepping back towards the doors. Obi stops me once more. “Your potentials know,” he says.
I pause in the doorway. “Know what?” I ask.
“They know that you need them,” he says. “Not just one, but all. They can feel the bonds you’ve created and the strength in them—what the bonds give you. The need will only grow stronger.”
I blink at him and he shakes his head. With a weary grin, he nods back towards the door. “Go, you will want to see them. Check on them again before you sleep.”
I frown but do as he says. I turn around and as I step through the doorway, my eyes open and Booker’s library comes into view instead of the palace sequestered in my mind that Obidian lives in and guides me from. I need them? I think. Yeah, he’s right. I need them a hell of a lot more than they need me. And that scares the shit out of me.
I get up and move through the quarters. It’s dark outside and it appears that everyone has already retreated to their own beds. I follow the hallways and steps up to my own room—or at least the room I stayed in the last time I had been here.
Nerys? Obidian's voice echoes in my head—no longer corporeal since I’m no longer in my mind palace, where he can actually take some sort of form—as I move towards the bed. Shivers skate along my shoulders and down my spine. Despite being fully clothed, I feel naked. I find that I can’t respond to him. He circles in my mind, his spirit shuddering and buzzing with concern—as though he can feel my internal struggle.
His eyes—Edwin's eyes—and the aura that surrounded him had been so steeped in darkness, something so vile, I feel sick just thinking about it. My heart hammers in my chest as if he were in the room with me. I don't feel safe. I don't feel like anyone is safe. Not Booker or Luca, or Titus or Holden, and certainly not Coen.
My thief, my druid, my sweet shapeshifter, my forgotten one, and my best friend. If I could put them all in a magical bubble I would. If I could find a vehicle like the one we had stolen before and drive them to somewhere far away—somewhere deep in a forest or mountain and keep them for myself so that the world could never hurt them, I would. The urge to do so is insanely strong. But I know they wouldn't let me, and I can't physically pick them up and command them to protect themselves. It isn't who they are. And I wouldn't love them if they were any different.
A shock goes through my system. I don't mean that. Do I?
Do I love them? All of them? Other than my brief moment with Titus...it feels like the others are no longer interested. Is it just the stress, though?
A knock on my door breaks me out of my thoughts and I turn and call out for whoever it is to enter. The door creaks open and it's, of all people, Luca. His dark hair curls over his broad forehead as he lets himself into the room and slowly shuts the door behind him.
"I felt you," he says quietly in the silence of the room. I stiffen. Had I been projecting my thoughts? I thought I had gotten a handle on that.
Luca steps further into the room. "I'm sorry," I say, "I didn't mean—"
He shakes his head. "Don't worry, Holden is too far away. Booker and Coen are asleep."
"And Titus?" I can't help but ask after a moment.
Luca shakes his head. "I don't know, but he isn't here so I
assume he didn't hear." He nods to the bed. "Do you mind if I sit?"
I shake my head, and he politely comes forward to sit down on the bed. He looks up at me, big, warm, green eyes beckoning me. "Do you want to talk about it?" I hold my breath for a moment. I'm not really quite sure if I want to or not. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he rushes to say.
My lips quirk. "It's...just difficult," I finally manage, collapsing on the bed next to him. "It's all...difficult." That seems the most appropriate word at the moment. Difficult. Everything going on in my life is so incredibly difficult. I can't stand it.
"You know we're here for you," Luca says. "We're bonded for a reason, right?"
I shrug. "We're bonded because..." I pause, about to say that the only reason we're bonded is because of a snap decision I made that was done in the heat of the moment, during a battle that I could not be a part of. But that isn't entirely true. I do have feelings for them. I don't quite know if it's love yet, but it's heavy and I know that if one of them died...well, the very thought makes my heart pound faster. If one of them were killed, it would devastate me.
6
Secret Meetings
Dark shadows with blood-red eyes stalk me in the woods. My feet snag on overgrown roots and bristles scratch against my skin as I run. They don’t move faster. They don’t move slower—those shadows. This is a dream. I know it is. They’ve been plaguing me ever since Obidian came into my life.
Before now, though, I could have sworn they were all memories. This one doesn’t feel like a memory. It doesn’t quite feel like a plain old nightmare either. It mimics one quite well, though.
No matter how hard or fast I run, the shadows are always just a few yards behind me. I wonder if I stop, will they? My terrified, addled brain, however, can’t contemplate stopping. My legs move of their own accord now. I may know that I’m in a dream, but my dream body doesn’t seem to realize it. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, shooting my legs forward, forcing me to continue the cycle of chase that my mind has designed.
That is—until a dark figure steps out from behind a tree. I barely manage to stop myself before I run straight into him. Even my dream body fights against itself to avoid touching this…creature. Edwin stands before me, dressed in black. His pale skin against all that darkness is fitting—like a dying star in the black of night. Bright, but dimly flickering. Is it there? How long will it remain?
“You can’t escape me, Nerys,” he says, voice bland and face unexpressive. I can feel myself shaking but I can’t show this man—no, I think, he's not a man...he's a creature...he's evil—I can't show him my fear.
“This is nothing,” I challenge him. “This place is just a dream. You can't do anything here.”
“Can't I?” he asks. It's not a smug or even an amused question. It's asked in a flat monotone, empty of all emotion. That, I believe, is what truly scares me about this...monster.
I turn slowly. The shadows have moved closer. They are circling me. Their blood-red eyes shine like rubies in the darkness. They are all focused on me. “What are you going to do?” I ask aloud, looking back to him.
“I just want to be given the opportunity to explain how well we would work together. I can help give you things you didn't even know you wanted,” he replies coolly.
“How do you know what I want or don't want?”
Dark, dead eyes meet mine and the dream changes. The ruby-eyed shadows disappear, replaced with crowds of cheering people. The forest floor falls away. I watch as the image of marble tiles replace the ground beneath my bare feet. No, my feet aren't bare anymore. I'm wearing elaborate jeweled sandals and my clothes are gone. Instead, I'm cloaked in the softest dress I've ever seen or worn. It's long and white, edged in lace. I turn in a circle. The trees are gone. The darkness is as well. Everything is colored in something brilliant and bright. Golds, whites, pale blues... It's a palace and I'm looking over a balcony.
“A safe place,” Edwin says, striding up behind me. “A place where you can be free and you can even rule.”
I can't deny it's beautiful. This country he's shown me. The people in the streets down below the palace cry out when they see me. They throw ribbons and rice and laugh and kiss each other. Everyone looks so happy. It's so very different than what I've known. The constant gray that seems to linger over my world—the exhaustion and fatigue I saw in the people of Euron is gone. In its place is a wondrous community of happiness. A kingdom of light.
“It's not real.”
I don't realize I've said that last part aloud until Edwin's hand covers my shoulder and he whispers in my ear. “It could be. If you wish it.”
“What are you?” I ask. “A Djinn?”
He chuckles, the sound hollow. I pull away from him, stepping toward the balcony. I turn to him and step up to the very edge, sitting down on the railing there.
“I can be whatever you need,” Edwin offers, holding out his hand. “All you have to do is join me.”
I think for a moment and turn to look sideways across the sprawling lands he has magicked into my dream. "You may be the only one able to make my dreams come true..." I begin.
"Yes," he says.
Despite how scared I am over what I'm about to do, I turn back to him with a smirk, using the expression to hide my fear of him. "Dreams are supposed to stay in their own worlds," I tell him. "I'll be the one to make my reality come true."
I pray like hell to the Gods that if I die in my dream it doesn't mean I die in real life and as Edwin's face darkens and he moves to grab me, I let myself fall backward over the balcony railing. I descend through the air and the last thing I see is Edwin's expression of utter confusion and shock right before my back hits the ground below. I feel the pain ricochet up my spine then I'm no longer dreaming.
“Nerys...Nerys, wake up,” a low toned voice hisses in the darkness of my bedroom. I yawn and struggle up on my elbows, shaking off the strange dream. Titus stands above me, dressed and ready for the day. I blink my bleary eyes at him in confusion.
"What time is it?" I ask. The question is automatic and I’m about to ignore I even asked it in favor of telling Titus what happened, but the look he gives me is serious enough for me to forget my own troubles. Something more is going on.
He shakes his head at me and then bends over, rummaging around on the floor for something. When he comes back up, he hands me a bundle of clothes—the very clothes I had worn the day before. I take them from him and keep them in my lap, still confused. "We have to go," he says. "Get dressed, and quickly."
Before I can ask why or where we're going, he's heading back for the door, disappearing into the hall. I slide out of bed and dress quickly. The urgency in his tone could not have been missed. I snatch up my pack on the floor, the one my clothes had been dropped next to in favor of a nightshirt. I roll up said nightshirt and stuff it in before stepping out into the hallway as well. I can hear quiet but hurried shuffling down the hallway and into the main green room. I follow the sounds.
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I step out into the green room and see that everyone else is already up. Booker is standing next to Holden, his face a mask of serious concern and worry. Other than the exhaustion etched into his features, he is looking much better than he had the day before. Luca is turned away from me, facing Booker and Holden. His head is bowed and his body tense.
Almost, as if naturally drawn to him, my mind reaches out and I gasp when feelings of remorse, sorrow, and loss hit me like a tidal wave. It doesn't sweep me away because I know they aren't my feelings—they're not my emotions—but they are so strong, they linger even when I pull back. I stride across the room and grip Luca's shoulder, turning him around to face me. I gasp. His eyes are red-rimmed and sunken in. I clasp his face.
"What's happened?"
"Madam Armaita has been arrested," Booker says quietly. Luca doesn't look like he can say much at all. His eyes look hollow, almost devoid of anything but the pain radiating from him.
"But she's still a
live?" I ask.
Booker shakes his head. "She won't be for much longer."
"Why was she arrested?" I demand.
"For the very reason we will be if we don't get out of here," Holden states.
"What?" I ask. "Why would anyone arrest us?"
Holden gives me a look. "Why do you think?" he snaps. "Matric—his son—Coen. We're in deep and Edwin marches for Ragnarok as we speak."
"What?" Only a day or so has passed. He couldn’t already have raised an army and set off, could he? How had he known about Madam Armaita?
Luca nods jerkily. "They arrested Madam Armaita because he sent a messenger ahead. He recognized the spell used and informed the council. Madam Armaita is supposedly the only one who knows that teleportation spell," he says, his mouth working despite how dry he sounds. "She was forbidden to teach it to anyone. It's an illegal spell."
"Why?" I ask, my brows lowering in confusion, though I can’t help but feel relief it wasn’t Edwin’s foray into my mind that had given her away.
"Because it has the ability to kill the caster," Booker says quietly, as if not wanting to admit as much.
I turn on him. "You could have died?" What is it with these men and almost dying?
"I didn't, Nerys," he replies coolly. "That's all that should matter now." It should, but I'm not okay with him putting himself at risk like that. Yes, he did it for everyone, but I’d rather die or give myself up before seeing him sacrifice himself the way that Coen had. I decide we'll have to talk about his actions another time because right now we have more pressing matters to deal with.
"Why do you think Madam Armaita isn't going to be alive long?" I ask. "Is it because of Edwin? We can go and break her out before he gets here and then get out of the city, can't we?"
Booker and Luca shake their heads. "It's too late. They've given her a truth tonic."
"Okay?" I didn't see...oh, I realized. They would know about us. Edwin didn't know the names of the guys, but he knew the spell Booker had used. He had seen it in my mind. If Madam Armaita was the only one who was supposed to know it...