The Veritas

by Wendy Saunders

  It was hotter than she was used to but that was alright, she needed it. Her skin felt like it was crawling as she picked up the soap and began to scrub away the layers of blood and dirt. She shampooed her hair, gingerly at first until she realized that the hairless, bloodied raw patches where they’d torn out clumps of her hair, were gone. Not only were the wounds healed but her hair had grown back. Issac had been very thorough.

  It didn’t help though, she frowned. Olivia was right, the scars were now on the inside. Shaking the dark thoughts from her mind she turned to rinse off, but they wouldn’t leave. The memory of Thomas’s hands on her skin, twisting, gripping and breaking her bones. The gleam in his eye when he sliced thin razor-sharp blades across her flesh, drawing blood.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she shut her eyes but that was even worse, she could still feel his hot breath against her face as he taunted her.

  She slumped against the cold tiles, her breath shallow and her chest heaving, even as her body began to shake. Slowly she slid down the wall. Drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, she leaned her head forward and let the tears come. Huge wracking sobs shook her tiny frame; she was sure Olivia could hear through the door, but she couldn’t stop them. She felt broken, abandoned. She had no one. Sam was gone, she didn’t even know if he was alive. By now Azariel, Thomas and all of the others would be searching for her. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide and for the first time, she wished they’d just let her die.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, but the water had turned freezing, pounding down on her head and shoulders like sharp shards of ice. The skin on her fingers and feet had begun to wrinkle but she didn’t have the strength to push herself off the floor of the shower.

  ‘Scarlett?’ A slow tentative knock came at the door, but she found she couldn’t even muster up the will to respond.

  ‘Scarlett, I’m coming in, okay?’

  When she didn’t answer the door creaked open quietly. She could feel Olivia watching her, but she just didn’t care. She didn’t have it in her.

  Suddenly the icy water shut off, and the pool she was sitting in drained away. Somehow, she felt even colder than when the freezing spray had been pounding down on her, only now the coldness went right to her bones and set her teeth chattering. She wondered idly if she’d ever feel warm again, but even as the thought occurred to her she felt a thick warm towel wrap around her.

  ‘Come on sweetheart,’ Olivia murmured comfortingly as she wrapped her arms around her, ‘you can’t sit on the freezing floor.’

  Between them they managed to get her up and out of the shower. Scarlett just stood there, feeling numb, her eyes vacant and her expression blank.

  Olivia dried her off and helped her into her pajamas. Scarlett couldn’t even muster up enough embarrassment to care that a complete stranger was seeing her naked. When Olivia once again sat her down on the toilet seat, she closed her eyes.

  Olivia rubbed her hair dry with the towel before retrieving a wide toothed comb. She spent ages carefully and gently combing out the snarls and knots. Once that was done, she ran her fingers through Scarlett’s beautiful fiery red curls allowing the heat of her magic to pool in her fingertips, soothing her scalp and drying her hair as she went. Eventually she felt Scarlett relax. Pulling the band from her own dark hair and allowing her ponytail to fall loosely down her back, Olivia scooped the masses of curls up and secured Scarlett’s hair out of her face.

  Scarlett watched as she fussed over her, feeling, as Olivia removed her own hair band and tied her hair up, that it was the kind of sweet, thoughtful act of an older sister, which was ironic considering Scarlett was centuries older than Olivia. But there was just something about her. She knew the kind of power Olivia could wield; she’d felt the edges of it, and it was almost overwhelming. She was under no illusions that the woman could probably uproot mountains if she so wished but there was also something incredibly calming about her presence. Surprisingly it soothed all her ragged edges.

  ‘Here,’ Olivia squeezed out a perfect line of toothpaste onto a brand-new toothbrush and held it out for Scarlett to take. ‘Trust me, it’ll make you feel better; you’ve been out of it for days, your mouth must feel like ass right now.’

  Although exhausted Scarlett pushed herself up with great effort. Moving to stand in front of the sink she obediently took the toothbrush and began to clean her teeth.

  ‘I was stuck for months in 17th century Salem,’ Olivia continued, knowing that Scarlett would only be half listening, but she’d seen the numbness in her eyes and she knew how easy it would be for her to give in and sink down into nothingness to escape the pain. She had to keep her anchored until she came out of it on her own, so she kept talking, chatting away meaninglessly. ‘The whole time I was there all I could think about was how I’d sell my soul for a toothbrush. When I finally got home, I practically ate an entire tube of toothpaste and it still wasn’t enough. I’m lucky I didn’t overdose on fluoride.’

  Scarlett dropped the toothbrush at the side of the sink, rinsing out her mouth as Olivia passed her a small hand towel.

  ‘Done?’

  Scarlett nodded, not complaining as Olivia wrapped her arm around her neck and grasped her waist to help her back to bed. Olivia clicked off the light and as they stepped back into the room, Scarlett saw that the bed was made up with fresh sheets and covers. Olivia had added more soft looking pillows and cushions and beside the bed on the dresser, sat a tray. She wasn’t sure what was on it, but she could smell the tantalizing scent from across the room making her mouth suddenly water and her stomach growl loudly.

  ‘I guess that answers my next question,’ Olivia smiled.

  ‘How did you end up in the 17th century?’ Scarlett rasped as Olivia helped her into bed.

  ‘Got stuck in the Underworld and made a deal with the last keeper of the lost Crossroad, to stop a demon from destroying the world.’

  Scarlett blinked up at Olivia as she tucked her in gently to see if she was kidding; she didn’t appear to be. Once she was settled Olivia lifted the tray and set it carefully on her lap.

  There was a steaming mug of what looked like some sort of herbal tea, a bowl of something thick and fragrant and beside it thickly buttered warm bread. Once again, her mouth watered as she picked up the spoon.

  ‘Eat slowly,’ Olivia sat back down in the chair beside the bed, ‘you don’t want to make yourself sick.’

  She took a mouthful and the flavors burst on her tongue. As she swallowed, she could feel the heat and warmth, soothing her from the inside out.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘My Aunt Evie’s soup, although it’s so thick its really more of a stew,’ Olivia amended, ‘but she really had a way with healing. This was what she would always make us if we were unwell.’

  ‘It’s really good,’ Scarlett mumbled as she tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it in the bowl.

  ‘It reminds me of her,’ Olivia smiled a little wistfully. ‘It was one of the only things I paid attention to long enough to learn. She was always trying to teach me the ways of a healer. I wish I could say I had been a better student, but I would always get distracted too easily.’

  ‘You grew up here?’

  ‘No,’ Olivia shook her head, ‘not exactly. It’s a long story.’

  Scarlett looked up at her as she spooned the soup into her mouth and once again Olivia was struck with that same strange feeling that they were somehow connected.

  ‘Eat up,’ Olivia decided as she settled back into the chair, ‘and I’ll tell you a little bit of my story.’

  Scarlett continued to eat slowly, until every last mouthful was gone, the bread plate was empty, and she’d fully drained her cup of tea. Olivia had long since removed the tray and placed it on the ground, curling into the chair as she continued to speak. Scarlett listened curiously even as her eyes grew heavy.

  ‘I think that’s enough for one night,’ Olivia leaned forward and pulled the covers over Scarlet
t as she slid further down into the soft warm bed and yawned.

  ‘So, did Sam really pull your husband from the 17th century into the present day?’

  ‘He did,’ Olivia nodded.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘That’s a story for another day, but I’m so grateful he did,’ Olivia murmured. ‘Theo is my soul mate, the missing part of me. He gave me two beautiful children and a house filled with love. There’s nothing better than that.’

  ‘Not even being a Guardian?’

  ‘Not even that,’ she shook her head. ‘The power I can live without… him not so much.’

  ‘I envy you that,’ Scarlett murmured as her eyes drifted closed.

  Olivia smiled in amusement, ‘do you?’

  ‘Did I say that out loud?’ she wondered sleepily.

  ‘Sleep Scarlett,’ Olivia stroked her hair softly as she switched off the light by the bed. ‘You might be surprised what fate has in store for you,’ she whispered as she picked up the tray and left the room, clicking the door closed quietly behind her.

  Once the room was plunged into darkness, Scarlett reached up to her throat for the ring on the chain she always wore. Her eyes snapped open; the dreamy lassitude dissipated as she realized with a panic that it was gone. She squeezed her eyes closed as the image of Thomas tearing it from her neck and throwing it to the ground flashed through her mind, bright and painful.

  It was gone, just like Sam. She had nothing left of him to hold on to. Swallowing hard she closed her eyes painfully.

  ‘Sam,’ she whispered shakily into the darkness, ‘where are you?’

  16

  Sam stared at the wall in frustration, pacing back and forth. It was hard to tell how long he’d been trapped in the room. With no windows to show the passing of day and night, it wasn’t easy to guess how long he’d been held prisoner. In fact, if it wasn’t for the regular meals brought to him, he’d have had no concept of time at all.

  His fists tightened once again in frustration as he resisted the urge to punch something… or someone. Even that wasn’t a possibility. After Aalia had fully healed him she’d no longer been allowed to have any contact with him, as had most others. If it hadn’t been for the silent grim-faced servant who brought him his meals, he wouldn’t have seen another soul for days.

  He moved with the sleek grace of a panther, caged and frustrated. His body felt good, strong even. The weariness that had plagued him constantly since his time in the Underworld was gone, as was any trace of the demon fire he’d been infected with. Likewise, the poisons which had nearly killed him were gone, purged from his body by Aalia.

  His memories had returned, every single one of them intact and with that knowledge came a constant restlessness forged by his captivity. He needed to escape and soon. Even though he’d set many things in motion long before the renegade angel Ash and his heavy-handed underling Cyrus had captured him in Mercy woods, the night of the awakening, he still had much to do.

  He stopped pacing and drew in a deep breath. He needed Scarlett; there was so much he still needed to explain to her, but it wasn’t the time. She’d given up everything for him when he’d shown up on her doorstep with no memories.

  He squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden flash of memories. After everything he’d done, she’d still taken him in, protected him and in the end been prepared to sacrifice her own life to save his, even believing that he’d betrayed her, that he didn’t love her.

  Bittersweet memories of her assaulted his senses, memories of that night in the motel tangled up in each other. She given herself to him that night. It wasn’t by any means the first time they’d made love, even though at the time he’d had no memory of their past together, but still, she’d held nothing back as he sank into her body. He’d felt her, he’d held her soul in his undeserving hands, felt the depth of her love for him and it had humbled him.

  He ached for her.

  He opened his eyes and drew in another breath. Even if he could get out of this room, out of Heaven and back to Earth he still couldn’t go to her, not yet. It killed him, lying to her, being apart from her but he had no choice. The weight of time pressed down upon him so heavily and the responsibility that went with it. No one could understand, they couldn’t see time the way he did, with its infinite possibilities and consequences. If events didn’t unfold the way they were supposed to, they would fail.

  He’d seen all the possibilities; he’d seen a reality where Azariel ruled Heaven, he’d seen a version where Ash had placed his hands on the Book of the Heavens and risen as a Guardian and torn Heaven apart in vengeance for his mother, but even the sight of him sitting upon a mountain of corpses was nothing compared to the reality of his father winning.

  Heaven and Earth under Thomas’s rule was the very definition of terrifying and the one thing he had to prevent at all cost. He still didn’t know who was meant to find the Book of the Heavens, it was hazy and indistinct, but the vision of his father ruling a wasteland filled with cruelty and darkness was as clear as day.

  He reached up and wrapped his fist around the two matching rings, suspended from a thin chain around his neck, and his heart gave a painful throb. No, he couldn’t go to her, but he had to know if she was alright.

  He knew what his father had done to her; Tyrel had told him. He’d tried to spare him the worst of the details, but Sam knew his father well enough to be able to read between the lines. It filled him with white hot rage. Every time he looked into his father’s icy blue eyes it took everything in him not to smash his fist into his face repeatedly until he was no longer recognizable, only then would he wrap his hands around his throat and choke the life out of him.

  But he couldn’t, at least not yet. Sam may have had the unspoken support of his people, but he needed the warriors and they were loyal only to Thomas. If Sam had any chance of overthrowing his father and preventing a war with the angels, he needed to expose his father for what he truly was.

  He had betrayed every single covenant of Heaven, defied God himself but the Sentinels were too loyal, too well conditioned to see it. He was going to have to open their eyes himself. Only then could he defeat his father.

  He looked up, disturbed from his morose thoughts as the door opened slowly, and a young woman entered.

  The guards closed the door behind her and even from across the room Sam could hear the lock turn. He turned his attention back to the girl who slowly crossed the room. She was a pretty thing, with long pale blonde hair, and she wore a loose flowing robe of rose-colored silk bound at the waist with a sash of dark forest green. She kept her face down, her eyes cast to the ground submissively as she’d been taught to.

  ‘My name is Marlyia,’ she spoke in a soft, very young voice.

  ‘Look at me,’ Sam murmured with a frown.

  She did as she was told, and his frown deepened. She was barely more than a child, seventeen years old at most.

  ‘I have been sent for you,’ she told him squaring her shoulders bravely. She was not yet schooled enough to hide the abject misery in her moss green eyes. She fumbled with the sash at her waist, opening her robe and dropping it to the floor leaving her standing naked before him.

  He tried to avert his eyes but not before he caught a glimpse of her small breasts and a patch of fine straw-colored hair between her thighs. Her frame was almost boyish as if she had not yet aged enough for her hips to fill out into womanly curves.

  ‘No,’ he snapped firmly, reaching for her robe and pulling it roughly over her shoulders, crossing it in front of her body to hide her nakedness, which rather than entice him made him feel uncomfortable and to be honest a little sick. ‘Marlyia is it? No matter what you’ve been told, you don’t have to do this.’

  ‘You don’t want me?’ she frowned in confusion, as worry filled her eyes. ‘I don’t please you?’

  ‘You’re barely more than a child,’ he told her gently, not wanting to frighten her, despite the wave of furious anger he felt toward his father in that second.

/>   ‘But he chose me because I am pure.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he shook his head, trying to make her understand. ‘Do you really wish to lie with me?’

  ‘I was chosen,’ she frowned not understanding the question.

  ‘Marlyia,’ he sighed, ‘go back to the women’s quarters.’

  Her pale cheeks flushed with humiliation as her whitened fists tightened on her robe. Holding it closed she turned and hurried to the door, knocking on it lightly then disappearing as soon as it opened.

  Sam rubbed his face with his hands, trying to scrub the image of her naked body, from his mind. The anger he felt toward his father tripled. Did his father really think him so depraved that he’d bed a child-like virgin just to give him an heir? It didn’t matter who the hell he sent to him, he belonged to Scarlett, head, heart, soul and body, something his father would never be able to understand. It wasn’t the way of their people; they took a breeding partner. If they were of high enough standing, they could choose one of superior bloodlines, but the others of their kind were simply assigned a partner and not given a choice.

  The male children were raised by their fathers and the female children returned to the women’s quarters to breed in turn, as soon as they were of age. It was barbaric and Sam was not the only one to think so, but it was also a tradition his father had no interest in changing.

  Sam hadn’t even known his own mother; she had simply been a partner his father had selected. As soon as Sam had been born, she’d been executed so that she would not bear any other offspring that could be considered Sam’s half siblings. Thomas had wanted Sam’s loyalty all to himself.

  Thomas wasn’t aware that Sam knew the fate of his mother, but he did. It was the moment he’d seen his father for the man he truly was, and he’d hated him, a hate that had only intensified when he’d ordered Sam to befriend Scarlett to learn her secrets by guile and then to kill her.