Pushing away all thoughts of Alaric, she closed her eyes, trying to envision Madalena's gold earrings in her mind. Once she could visualize them, she murmured the words of the spell Madalena had provided her, words from the ancient language of witches. Mei ene si. The words literally meant: Reveal yourself to me. But nothing happened; her mind remained blank.
"Should we take a break?" Madalena asked gently. Madalena must have known that Naomi was distracted, she hoped she wasn't aware of the cause.
"No," Naomi said, shaking her head. She was determined to get a handle on her magic. "Maybe I should practice on my own for a little bit."
"OK. Just remember to focus on nothing but your magic. Don't let frustration hinder you."
After Madalena left her alone, she again closed her eyes, visualizing the earrings. Mei ene si. Mei ene si. Reveal yourself to me, damn it.
Nothing. Naomi opened her eyes, expelling a sigh of frustration. She'd thought she was making progress with her magic, now it seemed like she was back to square one.
"You missed breakfast."
Naomi turned. Kat stepped out into the courtyard, balancing a tray filled with tea and croissants. She set it down on one of the courtyard benches.
"I'm not hungry."
Kat regarded her with narrowed eyes. She sighed, plopping down onto the bench.
"Is it because you're distracted? By Alaric?"
Naomi stared at her aunt, flabbergasted. Either her aunt had become even more perceptive than she'd been when she was a teenager, or Naomi's desire for Alaric was obvious.
"No," she lied.
"Right," Kat said drily. "Look . . . I know you're an adult, and it's none of my business. But be careful with vampires. They have different views on relationships."
"We're not in a 'relationship'," Naomi said. Far from it. She recalled how Alaric apologized after kissing her. "Wait—how do you know how vampires view relationships? Have you dated one?"
She said this last part in jest; she couldn't imagine Kat dating a vampire. When Kat didn't respond, Naomi's eyes went wide.
"Kat, did you—“
"Eat something," Kat said, getting to her feet and scurrying back inside the estate.
Naomi shook her head, making a mental note to question her aunt further about this. Kat had been married once, to an English professor back in Washington, but they'd divorced shortly before Kat took Naomi in. After that, she'd had two long term relationships; another professor, and then a librarian. Kat's choice of dating partners was conservative. The whole notion of her dating a vampire was bizarre.
She made herself drink some tea and eat a couple of croissants before returning to her cross legged position on the ground.
This time, she tried another tactic. Instead of focusing on the earrings, she thought of the Incantation Stone. Once she had a clear image of it in her mind, she murmured the spell. Nothing happened.
She forced herself to remain still, to focus on everything she knew about the Stone. Its rough edges brushing against her hands when she handled it at the museum, the whispers that had flowed through her mind. A group of ancient witches surrounding it, murmuring and inscribing their incantations into its surface.
What are you trying to tell me? she thought. What do your whispers mean?
Only the sounds of nature responded; the breeze rustling the trees, the chirping of birds.
And then . . . there was a different sound, one that came from within her. The whispers . . . the same whispers she'd heard from the Stone. They were faint at first, gently brushing the insides of her skull, until they increased in volume. Ghre mien alas iy. Ghre mien alas iy
She didn't understand what the words meant, but she knew they were answering her silent question. Beckoning her. She opened herself up to them, responding in kind.
I'm here. Tell me where you are.
Our child . . . our beloved Descendant . . . the time has come . . .
"Naomi. Naomi!"
Her eyes flew open. She was sprawled out on the floor of the courtyard. Alaric helped her up to a sitting position. Kat and Madalena stood above her, looking down at her with concern.
"What happened?" Naomi croaked.
"You were screaming," Alaric replied, frowning. "I came out here and found you on the ground."
"I told you this is too much for her," Kat said, glaring at Madalena.
"It's all right," Naomi interrupted, as Alaric helped her to her feet. He guided her to the bench, and she sank down onto it. "This is good. I don't know how to explain it, and this is going to sound crazy . . . but I was having a conversation with the Stone. I could understand what it was saying."
They stared at her, their expressions ranging from mystification to shock.
"I know it sounds crazy—“ she repeated, flushing.
"No," Madalena said, slowly shaking her head. "It doesn't. The object just shows you its location during a Locator spell. What you did goes beyond that. You communicated with it. I can give you guidance, but this is outside my range of experience."
"I'll keep trying," Naomi said, determination flowing through her.
"You should at least take a break," Alaric said, "it's almost dusk and you've been practicing since this morning."
A jolt of surprise skittered through her as she looked up. She hadn't realized the sky was darkening. It seemed like only minutes had passed while she was in her mind.
"I agree with Alaric," Kat said grudgingly. "Naomi, you need to rest. And you've barely eaten all day."
"I was going to suggest the same," Madalena said, looking offended, "I don't want Naomi to make herself ill."
"Of course I'll take a break," Naomi said, irritation rippling through her. She was getting sick of everyone treating her like she was a child. But she had to admit, if no one else was around, she would have been eager to return to her mind, to see how far she could take her communication with the Stone.
During dinner, her thoughts kept returning to the Stone. How far could she take her communication with it? She was eager to resume practicing.
She felt Alaric's eyes on her, but when she turned to look at him, he was deep in conversation with Madalena.
Despite the fact that he and Madalena often butted heads, she again noted their closeness, and another stab of unwarranted jealousy pierced her. Was he involved with Madalena? Did vampires stick with fellow supernatural creatures and have dalliances with humans just for fun?
Other than Alaric's apology last night, they hadn't discussed last night's kiss; it was like it didn't happen at all. It may not even happen again. She ignored the sadness that surged through her at the thought.
Everyone drifted out of the dining room as the meal concluded. Everyone drifted out of the dining room, but to her surprise, Alaric paused by her chair.
"Can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure," she said, trying to keep her tone light, though a rush of giddy anticipation swept through her as she rose to her feet. Kat's gaze drilled into them as they left, when she bid her goodnight, Kat muttered a curt response. She knew she'd get another lecture warning her off of vampires the next day.
Alaric was silent as he led her down the hall and out the back front doors; she noticed his shoulders were rigid, and a muscle in his jaw ticked every few seconds. Her giddiness faded. He seemed upset about something.
They reached the back gardens, lined with gardenias, night lilies, and roses.
He stopped when they were in the center of the moonlit path that wound throughout the gardens.
"Naomi," he began. "Last night . . . "
He trailed off as his eyes met hers. Unable to stop herself, she reached up to touch his face. His skin was gleaming in the moonlight, his cerulean eyes filled with desire as they trailed over her face. Screw it, she thought recklessly. Her world was topsy-turvy; what was the harm in giving in to desire? She wanted him, and she could tell he wanted her. She stood on her tiptoes to press her lips against his.
He responded instantly, reaching ou
t to press her into him. This kiss was more passionate than the one last night; their lips were hungry and searching, their entwined bodies hot with need. Naomi became lost in the sensation of him; his cool skin against hers, the pressure of his hands on the small of her back, the softness of his lips, the sweet tang of wine on his breath.
When he finally released her, he rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.
"I was again going to apologize for kissing you last night," he said gruffly. He let out a soft chuckle. "And tell you it wouldn't happen again. I failed."
She returned his smile, though disappointment filled her at his words.
"You're beautiful, Naomi. And your scent . . . " he inhaled, closing his eyes. "I'm drawn to you. And not just to your beauty, or your power. You. All of you."
Warmth filled her now, chasing away the disappointment.
"I'm drawn to you too," she whispered, reaching up to trace his lips with her fingers. "Very much so. I thought that maybe you and Madalena were together, and—“
"Madalena?" Alaric looked baffled. "Never. I mean— Madalena is beautiful. But I've come to look at her as a sister. Have you seen how we bicker? We'd kill each other."
Joy filled her at his words, and she smiled.
“Please . . . stop apologizing for kissing me. I don't want you to stop kissing me. Ever."
Naomi usually wasn't so bold, but she'd never wanted anyone as much as Alaric. Alaric let out a low, sexy groan, and he again kissed her until she was breathless.
When he released her, he took her hand in his, walking her back through the gardens and up to her room. At her door, he leaned in to kiss her once more, before leaving her. She touched her lips, an array of emotions flowing through her.
The pattern continued over the next few days. Her evenings were spent with Alaric, walking through the back gardens of his estate. Each walk ended with a passionate kiss that left her breathless.
Her days, however, were filled with training. Naomi gradually learned more about the Stone. She had used the estate’s library and a spare laptop to research the time period during which the Stone was created. She discovered there had been a drought in the region at the time; resources were scarce.
"Witches lived separately from humans then. If they were competing for food and water with humans, they must have been desperate and dying,” Madalena said, when she joined her in the library one afternoon. “Creating the Stone was an act of desperation.”
Naomi had mixed feelings about this; creating something that would unleash destruction on millions of creatures was more than desperate.
"Why didn't they unleash the spell then? Why bury it or keep it hidden?" Naomi asked.
"There are many theories, but no one knows for sure. I personally think they gave their lives to create the Stone; powerful spells like this one usually require a great sacrifice. I think it was one last ditch effort to ensure the survival of their descendants," Madalena said with a sad sigh. "Like a death throe.”
She studied Madalena; her expression was troubled. She hid it well, but she knew that her role as a leader of the Alliance was stressful.
"Alaric mentioned that you were an artist before you joined the Alliance,” Naomi asked, deciding to change the subject. She hardly talked to Madalena about anything other than the Order, the Alliance, magic, and the First Witches.
Madalena looked taken aback by her question, but she relaxed, her eyes lighting up.
"I was. I painted. Cityscapes, stills," she said, looking wistful, "I didn't make much money off my art, though. That trust fund came in handy,” she added with a wry smile. “It was mostly a hobby."
"Did you want to do this? Work with the Alliance?” Naomi asked.
"At first, no," Madalena said, "I felt obligated because my father wanted it. But… that changed over time. I became invested. The Order is what the human world would consider terrorists. They need to be stopped."
Though she was busy with training, she did check in with Kat as often as she could. Kat was settling in well; often teaming up with Fiona to prepare meals for their group. Naomi was glad that Kat hadn’t listened to her and gone back to Seattle, it was nice to have a familiar presence with her. Sometimes, Kat would watch her as she practiced spells, murmuring words of encouragement, and amused her with tales of how her mother accidentally set their room on fire during an argument, and how their parents had grounded her when she used spells to do her chores.
She was learning more about the others as well. Elias, flirtatious and jovial as he was, seemed to be hiding something. When she asked him why he'd joined the Alliance, he'd vaguely replied that he wanted to help save lives before hurrying out of the room. There was more to him than met the eye; she wondered if the whole joker thing was an act to mask a deep seated pain.
Casimir was more openly guarded, like Alaric. Though he was stoic as always, she was now convinced something had happened between him and Fiona. His silver eyes followed Fiona whenever they were in the same room together, and she saw a hint of longing on his face.
She only had a few conversations with Fiona; she longed to ask her more about Alaric, but she didn't want to seem . . . desperate. Fiona only told her that she had to spruce up the estate; while Alaric insisted on keeping it, he hadn't been concerned with its upkeep at all.
And of course, there was Alaric. He was slightly more open with her now, though she suspected he was holding back much about himself; he rarely talked about his past, only discussing his time with the Alliance.
Their kisses grew increasingly passionate, but each night he left her by the doorway, leaving her with an ache. But she realized that what she craved went beyond the physical; she wanted every part of him, the part of him that he seemed determined to hide.
Chapter 19
Just as Alaric and Naomi's balcony chats became a nighttime ritual at the penthouse; after dinner walks became a similar ritual at his estate. It started the night after their first walk through the garden and Alaric's failed attempt to keep away from her. He told himself there was nothing wrong with a friendship developing between the two of them, even if it was a friendship inflamed with desire. He'd been able to resist making love to her that first night, and he could continue to do so, even it it required Herculean effort. If he made love to her—and he knew that once wouldn't be enough—it would lead to complications. She was already distracting enough; if he took her, she would consume even more of his attention, attention that needed to focus on her safety. And he still had many enemies from his murderous past. If Naomi became involved with him, it would paint yet another target on her back. He couldn't bear the thought of her sharing the same fate as Ileana; murdered because of him.
"What was it like?" Naomi asked one night, as he led her down the moonlit path that circled around the estate. "In general? The past?"
Alaric looked down at her; her face was alight with curiosity. She was an academic after all, a historian. He thought for a moment.
"Quiet," he said. "It's something I've not gotten used to in the modern world, how loud everything is. The constant barrage of noise. Cars, technology . . . no one ever takes a moment to just stand still."
Naomi seemed to consider this for a moment. "That's something I've always wondered about the past. How quiet it must be. My parents kept drilling in my head that people from long ago were no different from people who lived today. My mother used to say, 'They just smelled worse than we do'."
Alaric laughed.
"Is that why you became a historian? To learn more about the people of the past?"
"I think it was a way of escaping, to be honest. To not live in my tumultuous present, by focusing on details of the past," Naomi admitted, with a sigh. "But I do find it fascinating. It’s my parents’ fault. They started taking me to museums and lectures before I could talk. God, I miss them," she whispered, "especially now. There's a part of me that's still furious with them for not telling me who—what—they really were. What I really was. But I wish they we
re here to guide me."
"They sacrificed their lives for you. Wherever they are, they're proud of you," Alaric replied, his heart aching with empathy over the raw grief on her face.
"I was a teenager when they died . . . but sometimes the grief is acute, like it was just yesterday. Time is a mystery," she said, looking up at him with a smile tinged with sadness. "How do you reconcile it? Time? After existing for so long?"
Alaric considered her question. Time moved in a continuous flow, waiting for nothing or no one. As a human it amazed him how fast it seemed to move. As a vampire he felt like he was more of an observer to its passing; no longer a part of it, just watching it pass by.
He explained this as best he could to Naomi, who nodded thoughtfully.
They continued along the path, reaching the back gardens. She paused by a budding rose; he watched, fascinated, as she murmured a spell beneath her breath, and the rose petals opened to full bloom.
"Maybe I will get used to all this," Naomi said, looking pleased as she leaned forward to smell the flower.
"You wanted to know what the past was like. What time is like. What's magic like?" he asked, genuinely curious. The notion of witches had frightened him as a newborn vampire. Their ability to perform magic daunted him. Even now, after all the time he spent with witches, he still found their abilities mystifying.
Naomi tilted her head to the side. "Like an electrical current running through you," she replied, after a moment. She reached out to touch the bare skin of his arm, trailing her fingers along his skin. He tried to remain stoic, but a jolt of heat spiraled through him at her touch. "Energy. Energy that flows right beneath your skin."
She met his eyes, and he reached for her. Their kiss seemed to last for hours, and with great effort he released her. Her disappointment was plain when he dropped her at her room, but Alaric restrained himself from going further.
But still, Alaric escorted Naomi on nightly walks around the estate, telling her how Fiona was the one to breathe new life into the decrepit estate; she had been the one to plant and tend to the gardens, to renovate the crumbling interior. He told her very little of his time there as a human, and she didn't ask, though he could see the curiosity in her eyes. The less she knew about his past the better.
Shadow Descendant (Descendants Book 1) Page 11