"Hi." She stood back, wanting to run to him or scream at him or both.
"I've missed you," he replied, cocking his head to the side and giving her a 'forgive me' look.
That was enough. She rushed into him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and breathing his musty cologne. He held her tightly, pushing his hand into her thick red curls and tilting her face toward his. He kissed her long and hard, and she forgot her anger and hurt. As they kissed, he opened his mouth wider and she felt a sharp pain on her lip. He'd accidentally bit her. Before she could pull away to wipe the blood seeping from her lip, she went slack in his arms and darkness moved in.
Devin awoke in the woods. Her hands were bound tight and stretched out, as were her legs. Through groggy eyes, she saw leather straps tightly secured to her wrists and ankles. At first she felt alone, but then she saw Tobias. He wore a long, black, hooded cloak, the hood resting on his shoulders. He watched her carefully with an interest that frightened her.
"Tobias?" she asked meekly.
He was playing a game, some sort of prank. But then she heard more movement and strained her head up. Two more cloaked figures moved around her. One of the figures turned and she recognized the blond woman she had seen Tobias driving with.
She twisted toward Tobias, and he smiled wide, his teeth white and shining in the light of the moon. The trees rose up around them and she stared straight into the branches, surprised by the silence. Where were the squirrels and owls and even the crickets? Since when were the woods this quiet at night?
"What is this?" she asked Tobias finally, pulling, for the first time, against the ties.
"I'm releasing you," he told her simply.
Another cloaked figure bent beside her, and she stared at his face. He looked even younger than she, maybe seventeen or eighteen; his close cut, white blond hair soft like a chick's baby fur.
"Who are you?" she asked, but he gave her only a comical grin that turned his baby face ugly.
The three moved around her, each of their hands clutching an old dirty rope. They began to chant, and Devin screamed at Tobias, demanding an explanation. He ignored her.
She remembered the goddess in her back pocket and struggled to look downwards, if only she could get it, she could stop them, she knew it. Their eyes were closed; they were not watching her. She shifted her hips back and forth, like a horizontal belly dancer, focusing her thoughts on the lighter. It pressed against her butt, but shifted. In her mind's eye, she could see it tucked tightly against the fabric of her jean shorts. It was coming out; as she careened from side to side, she felt it dislodge and flop onto the forest floor. She began to lift her butt to help push it upwards, but a horrible pain smashed into her skull. She screamed, a long gurgling cry that ripped through the silent forest. They must have hit her, but no, they had not moved. Tiny needles began to poke her flesh everywhere, her arms and legs, even her eyelids seared in pain. They were burning her alive, but no; there was no fire, nothing. She thrashed and screamed, clenching her eyes against the pain, fighting to stay conscious. The forest and night sky disappeared above her and visions of death closed in. Demonic faces dancing around charred bodies, long black coffins, knives dripping with freshly spilled blood, the images advanced on her.
Suddenly, Tobias was above her, but it was not Tobias. His face had changed, his eyes were sunken, black and burning, his forehead was broader. She turned her head, not able to look at him. He gripped her face hard and ripped it back, sticking his fingers into her mouth and clenching it open. She tried to bite down, but his grip was machine-like. With his other hand, he lifted an old, dusty bottle above her and poured. Ice-cold blood flooded her mouth and spilled out over her lips and chin; she swallowed, choking, and saw a disgusting smile split his face.
He laid the bottle aside and pulled out a silver dragon, its eye a single black jewel. Tobias pulled the dragon apart, revealing a knife, the tip sharpened to a deadly point. He waved the knife over her body and grunted in delight as it glowed red near her arm. Before she could plead or protest, he drove the knife down; she felt it pierce her side, just below her armpit. No scream came, only a white-hot pain that shot through her. He did not pull the knife back, and Devin felt as if it were eating her. Blood began to drift upwards from her legs and torso towards the spot of penetration, as if the dragon were drinking it greedily. She opened her mouth in horror as Tobias motioned to the blond woman, who lowered her face towards the wound, her tongue slipping out like a serpent's.
Time was lost then, Tobias's face melded into a white blur and Devin drifted. She was in the cave staring blankly at the figures around the fire, and then she found herself floating lifelessly in a deep aqua colored pool with moonlight shining above her. Finally, she was back in the woods, but looking down at her body, rather than out from it. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth open. They'd stripped her clothes away and stuffed them in a black trash bag. Tobias left the clearing. His face had returned to its original handsomeness. His skin seemed to glow from the inside, she might have believed it was simply a reflection from the moon, but she knew better. It was her energy, her power inside of him - he had taken it. The mouth of the blond woman was red and wet; she glowed like Tobias, but brighter, her whole body shimmering in the moonlight.
As she watched, Tane dragged her dead body forward, discarding it near a dead log and pile of thick bushes. Vesta had wiped away the designs etched in the dirt. She bent down, her fingers clasping the goddess lighter, and shot a glance towards Tobias's retreating frame. Safe that no one was looking, she slipped it beneath her cloak and departed the forest, Tane followed quickly behind.
* * * *
The cry was far off, muffled, and when Abby sat up in bed, she wondered if she had imagined it. She scanned the room silently, but in the brisk morning light, she could not even imagine Devin’s ghost - let alone find her. Had it only been a dream? No, she was certain that she had witnessed Devin’s death.
A wail sounded again, and this time she recognized Lydie, the screams of a child.
She rushed from her room and down the spiral staircase, smelling something charred. It blew in gusts, and as she ran down the hallway, she saw that the great oak door stood open and wind thrashed the entryway, blowing out candles that immediately reignited in tiny bursts of blue flame.
Out the door, she skidded to a stop, colliding with Helena, who stood on the stone steps, her hand flat against her mouth.
Below them, at the lagoon edge, the other coven members had gathered. They were huddled, except for Lydie, who stood to the side, bawling like an infant with fat tears rolling over her blotched cheeks. The wind whipped around them, turning the lagoon into a pool of thrashing tidal waves.
The burnt smell hit her again and she wrinkled her nose, shielding her face with the sleeve of her robe. Below her, the group parted. Faustine held something in his arms, a black shriveled form that seemed to be alive. As Faustine grew closer, Abby saw the burned blond hair, melded to a red, black scalp. Oliver.
She gasped and stepped back, making room for Faustine, who did not look at her, but rushed by, his face grim.
Abby could not see Oliver’s face, which was pressed into Faustine’s chest, his arms looped around his neck like a child. Dafne sprinted behind him. Elda and Max carried a leather satchel, still smoking, with a single singed arrow sticking out from it.
When the group had disappeared into the castle, Helena crept down the stone steps to Lydie, who had not moved. Her eyes were clenched tight and her hands balled at her sides. Helena wrapped an arm around her quivering body and gently led her away from the castle, towards the cherry trees, their blossoms ravaged by the wind.
Abby stood and gulped the fresh air; the only remaining smell was the poignant flowers as they danced in the gale. Her robe blew up and exposed her legs, but she didn’t care. She wanted to erase Oliver’s image from her mind, make his body complete again, give him back his handsome, smiling face, but she saw only his seared head, the flesh slick.
>
“Abby?” Sebastian stood behind her, looking dazed. She could see that he had just woken and run from his room in a pair of blue boxer shorts and nothing else.
“Oliver,” she said, shaking her head and looking around numbly. “I think he might die.”
Sebastian stepped closer to her, peering past her toward the lagoon. Nothing remained of where Oliver lay, but Abby could still see the spot.
“What happened?” Sebastian whispered, turning to Abby and taking her shoulders in his hands.
She looked at him, mute. Her body had begun to shake violently, and he pulled her against him, crushing her face into his bare chest.
“I don’t know.”
* * * *
How many hours had passed? Abby could not guess, but she sat perfectly still, her legs folded beneath her on the carpet, a book splayed before her. There were no clocks in the library and she had stopped caring, counting the passage of time by Oliver’s improvement, which was slow, if at all.
She and Sebastian had retreated there after they visited his room to get clothes. Now he read as well, hungrily devouring pages of heavy books that he propped in his lap, his eyes frequently lifting to the doorway, then to Abby and then back to the page.
Helena had visited them twice, both times carrying mugs of tea from Bridget and news of Oliver from Elda. Oliver, she said, was in the infirmary and healing slowly. He had been bitten and burned, but managed to escape the Vepar who attacked him. The Vepar, they discovered, was Detective Alva.
“It says here,” Sebastian started, “that Vepars have a pouch just beneath their heart that contains their blood sacrifices and their power. They have to be stabbed there to die, but their ribcage is like steel.”
Abby stood, happy for the interruption, and padded across the room. She slid onto the couch next to him and looked down at the images on the page. A tall man, who looked part animal, wolf maybe, stood clutching his chest. Black blood leaked from a wound there. Another man held a long sword, the tip thrust into the wound, a look of triumph on his pale face.
“It also says that Vepars have venom in their teeth that immobilizes witches. Depending on how hard they bite and how powerful they are, it can cause total incapacitation for minutes, hours and even days.”
“Vesta bit me,” Abby said, rubbing a hand on her shoulder. “I think, anyway.”
“She did,” Sebastian said, flipping the page. “I saw her.”
He didn’t add more and Abby didn’t ask. Neither of them were ready to relive that night.
Abby read over Sebastian’s shoulder.
According to the book, the first discovered and slain Vepar came from Greece in 8000 B.C. His name was Gorzen, and he lured a young witch to a cave high in the mountains where he murdered her and consumed her blood. As his power grew, he began to seek more followers attracted to his promises of power. He not only sought out humans, but also witches who desired dark magic and who wanted absolute power. He spoke with demons, he said, and they promised him great gifts. He branched beyond witches, sacrificing humans to provide violent souls. With every murder, his strength grew. He was eventually slain by a witch who he had attempted to draw toward his cave.
“I feel like we should do something,” Abby sighed, leaning her head back against the couch.
Reading was too still - she needed movement - action. The part of her that wasn’t terrified wanted to find Alva and kill him.
“We are doing something,” Sebastian said absently. “We’re learning to defend ourselves. We’re learning how to kill these bastards.”
Abby returned to her own book, lifting it from the floor and setting it back on the shelf. She picked along the titles and pulled out another called The Defiance of Death. The cover was freaky, a long white face with a giant black mouth, open - as if screaming. She flipped through the pages, trying to concentrate, but distracted by every noise, hoping each time that Helena returned with news.
She crossed a bold headline that said 'Surviving Death' and did a double-take, immediately thinking of Devin. She glanced at Sebastian to see if he was watching her, but he wasn’t, so she leaned in close to read.
“Death is a transfer of energy. The energy moves from the physical vessel into the energetic world, but this process can be complicated when a witch focuses her energy at the point of death on a powerful object. The object, known as a relic, is a physical manifestation of her element and may take on part of the soul, or energy, and keep it until it is released.”
Abby read it again, imagining Devin’s death and the small goddess lighter in her pocket.
Had Devin defied death?
The book offered an example, a witch, known as Egon, who was murdered by a Vepar during the 1400's, but transferred his energy into a nearby stone. As Egon lay dying, he focused on the stone, which embodied his earth element. His body died, but a portion of his energy entered the stone and allowed Egon to remain in the physical world without a physical body. The Vepar who picked up the stone created a bridge between his own mind and the dead witch. When another witch later found the stone, he was able to see, not only thoughts of the slain witch, but thoughts of the Vepar as well, which ultimately aided him in slaying the Vepar.
Abby moved her face away from the book. Was Devin still alive? Had she transferred her energy into the lighter? Vesta had picked up the lighter; Abby had seen it in Devin’s memory. But how could Abby retrieve the lighter without first finding Vesta?
She considered telling Sebastian. It was far fetched, sure, but he would believe her. He had to. She started to get up, taking the book with her, but the door swung open.
“He’s awake,” Helena breathed, rushing into the room. “He’s conscious and he’s going to be okay.” She talked fast, describing Elda’s brilliant salve that seeped into his organs and repaired the burned tissue. Abby tried to listen and understand, but could not follow when Helena got into different herbs and incantations, waving her hands wildly about the room.
Sebastian just smiled and nodded, clearly relieved. Abby wondered if he felt guilty for his cool treatment of Oliver in the previous days.
“Bridget made some lunch, and, Abby, Oliver has asked to see you.”
“Me? Why?” Abby asked, surprised.
Sebastian was forcing his smile now, some of his joy eroded by the strange request.
“I don’t know, but I can take you down.”
Chapter 24
The infirmary felt different to Abby than it had the previous night. Many of the candles had been extinguished and long, dark drapes covered the skylight ceiling, blocking the daylight.
Oliver lay on one of the many beds, shrunken beneath a thin white sheet. His face was heavily bandaged with small holes for his eyes, nose and mouth. Lydie snored softly from another bed and Dafne stood rigid at a long counter, crushing herbs in a mortar and pestle, and then adding them to a tall glass bottle.
She drew herself up and stared meanly at Abby, who averted her eyes and hurried to Oliver’s side, wishing that Helena had accompanied her all the way to the infirmary.
“Oliver,” she whispered, staring at his burned skin, his eyelashes gone.
His eyes cracked open and she saw the slits of green, like tiny jewels.
She grasped his hand. It was bandaged and she recoiled, thinking that she had injured him.
He shook his head with effort.
“No, it’s okay, feel away. Let me know if I’ve got any skin left down there.” His voice was hoarse, but stronger than she expected.
She smiled and leaned closer to him.
“Oh, I’m so happy that you’re okay. We thought…”
“Nope, still alive, barely, but still alive.”
“Can I get you something, water?”
Dafne had stopped mixing and moved closer to the bed. Oliver noticed her from the corner of his eye.
“Relax, Daffy,” he called. “She’s not dumping acid in my peepholes.”
Dafne looked angrily at Oliver and then turned, leaving th
e room without a backward glance.
“She’s still touchy,” he said.
“Yeah,” Abby agreed. “I don’t think this helped.”
“Help me sit up, babe,” he said, groaning as he tried to lift his head.
“No, stop,” Abby gasped, startled as some of his bandages ripped from his arms.
She braced her hands under his back, stuffing several more pillows beneath him.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Bridget makes a mean painkiller.”
“Yes, I think I’ve tried it.”
“I heard.”
“You did? How?”
“Faustine sent me an image while I was on the hunt. I’m sorry about your aunt.”
Abby sighed and perched on the edge of Oliver’s bed where he had made space for her.
“This world is shocking in the beginning,” Oliver continued, his eyes anguished. “People die for us.”
“Why, though? Why do other people have to die?”
“Because our enemies don’t simply want witches, they enjoy killing.”
Oliver spoke flatly, and it hurt Abby to hear his hardened tone. Had his family died for him?
“Oliver, why did you want to see me?”
He turned toward her and smiled, but his lips were burned, and they cracked when he opened his mouth.
“Because you’re new and I know how that feels. I knew that you were hurting about your aunt, probably about me and I wanted to tell you that it’s okay. I’m okay and you will be okay.”
Lydie shook beside them, her leg jerking and then settling back down.
“Must be chasing cats,” Oliver said.
“She’s sweet.”
“Yes, and a monster.”
“Have you been here longer than her?” Abby asked him, helping lift a straw to his lips so that he could drink.
Ula (Born of Shadows Book 1) Page 23