The Turquoise Tower (Revenant Wyrd Book 6)

by Travis Simmons

  “It’s the city of angels, who knows why it’s so strange,” Jovian said.

  “Do you think this is what it’s like in the Ever After?” Maeven asked, turning around and rinsing his hair.

  “I really haven’t thought about that,” Jovian said. He looked at the shining white walls and the lights that ran the length of the ceiling. “Possibly. I mean, this is a city for angels, so they probably constructed it after what they knew.”

  “Yeah,” was all Maeven said. Stepping out of the bathing chamber, he wrapped a heavy towel around himself and strode over to Jovian. He wrapped powerful arms around the younger man, and pulled him in for a hug. “Now that I don’t stink, I can do that.”

  Jovian hugged him back, thankful that there was nothing apparently wrong with Maeven.

  “You had me really worried,” Maeven confessed, kissing the top of Jovian’s forehead where the scar that divided his face diagonally started.

  “I had you worried?” Jovian asked. Maeven huffed a laugh into Jovian’s ear.

  “I thought I was dead. I saw you riding toward me on the back of the Pale Horse. You reached out your hand to me, and as I reached up to take it, I was suddenly transported to some dreamland.”

  “What happened there?” Jovian asked. He remembered many times being transported in a dream, and often it had prophetic outcomes.

  Maeven shook his head and leaned away from Jovian. The front of Jovian’s shirt was wet. Maeven looked deep into Jovian’s emerald eyes and smiled.

  “I honestly can’t remember. The last thing I remember was seeing you on the horse before I woke up holding your hand. Something must have happened, though, in the space between the horse and waking up.”

  “Yeah,” Jovian said.

  “But I was worried that it meant you were dead. I don’t know what I would do if you died,” Maeven said. “Promise me that you won’t die until after I die?”

  Jovian scowled and shoved Maeven’s slick shoulder, feeling the bunched-up muscles underneath. “That’s a selfish request,” Jovian said. “What makes you think I could handle it any better?”

  “Well, if I go first I can go make sure we have a really awesome room in the Ever After. Maybe with one of these rain baths in it.”

  Jovian laughed at that and kissed Maeven lightly. “No, I don’t want to think about either of us dying,” he whispered. But he couldn’t help it. Maeven was here talking about the Pale Horse and Jovian on the back of it. Jovian had also seen the Pale Horse in his visions of the Turquoise Tower. Pair those visions with the feeling of impending doom looming up before them, and Jovian couldn’t help but think of their deaths.

  “Here, you look like you could use a rain bath,” Maeven said, tugging Jovian’s shirt up over his head.

  “I just had one this morning,” Jovian said, laughing at the look in Maeven’s eyes.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have one with me,” Maeven said, a smile ghosting across his face.

  “Maeven!” Angelica trumpeted when Jovian and Maeven stepped into the dining hall. Maeven looked like he was overcome with all kinds of sensations. Most overwhelming of all was seeing the giants filling up the back of the room. Angelica launched herself at Maeven, who nearly toppled over on impact. She hugged him tightly, and he returned the hug. “How are you feeling?” she asked, pulling back to look into his eyes, as if somehow she would learn the secrets of how he felt within.

  “Alive,” he said. “I should be fit to head out tomorrow. That is, if the groo are here by then.”

  “The groo have been here since this morning, just waiting for you all to leave,” a red-headed giant said, stepping forward. Maeven was amazed at how large the chamber was, easily holding all the giants. “My name is Phaleco, and I’m happy that Jovian’s forcing your shift helped to heal you.”

  Maeven bowed to her, unsure of the normal giant greeting. “So am I.”

  In the middle of the room sat a table that was lit from underneath so the light shined up through the center.

  The giants arranged food on tables in the back of the chamber, and everyone helped themselves to cuts of roasted meats, strange tubers in a light sauce, and various other vegetables. Angelica passed most of the vegetables up and dove into the dessert the giants had found in the back of the building. In fact, she heaped most of the gooey dishes on her plate, forsaking everything else save a small wedge of boar meat.

  “While we’re all here,” Russel said as everyone arranged themselves around the odd metallic table. “I’ve been thinking about this angelic power thing we’ve discussed.”

  “Do you know what it is?” Angelica asked around a mouthful of food. Russel looked at her oddly, trying to figure out what she’d said, and laughed when meat dropped out of her mouth and back onto her plate.

  “Angelica, really, are you a savage?” Joya asked, scowling at her sister.

  “It’s good!” Angelica argued.

  “You were saying, Russel?” Joya said.

  “Okay, well, the alarists have darklight, right?”

  Joya nodded.

  “And that sends whatever they strike beyond the Black Gate?” Russel asked again.

  “So we’ve been told,” Jovian remarked. “Who knows where they go really? I mean, it’s not like anyone has ever been struck by darklight and then came back from beyond the Black Gates.” Just saying that reminded Jovian of Sylvie and how she had supposedly traveled beyond the Black Gate and somehow made it back out.

  “True, but for the sake of argument, let’s just stick with what we’ve been told,” Russel said. “Anyway, I imagine that angels must have a similar power, right? If alarists have darklight from their connection with Arael, then angels must have something else, like purelight, from their connection with the Goddess.”

  “What’s this purelight?” Angelica asked between mouthfuls.

  “Yeah, I’ve never heard of that,” Joya said.

  “Well, it’s really something I just made up.” Russel blushed. “But I think it’s worth trying out. It makes sense that angels could use a pure measure of energy from their faith in the Goddess. And if we can, I want to be the one who names it. Oh! And the one who gets credit for discovering it!” He smiled widely and took a huge bite of boar meat.

  Angelica shook her head, watching juice dribble out of his mouth. His smile faded when the first bit of juice soaked into his shirt.

  “That’s unfortunate, that’s my good shirt,” he mourned.

  “You have more than one?” Angelica asked.

  “Alright, this purelight, as you wish it to be named,” Joya said. “How, exactly, would we go about calling on it?”

  “Not sure exactly,” Russel said, setting his fork back down. “That’s still a mystery. If only we had an alarist here to ask.”

  “Well,” Angelica said. “That will give us something to do on the way.”

  “I don’t think you will have a lot of time to play around,” Phaleco said, drawing all attention to her. “I don’t think you understand precisely how fast the groo are.”

  “Well, how long will it take us to get to the tower with them?” Angelica asked.

  “Days.” Phaleco said. “Less than a week.”

  Her proclamation stopped all conversation. Dinner passed in near-silence, everyone mulling over what would happen when they reached the Turquoise Tower, and Angelica worried about the outcome. She had lost her appetite and pushed her plate away.

  She hadn’t told anyone, but she feared there would be nothing after meeting Arael. For some reason the idea of meeting him there filled her with a dread far beyond words. If she had to describe the feeling, she would say it was like a black wall of doom sweeping up before her, threatening to plunge her into oblivion.

  That night Angelica slept horribly, and whenever she did drift into peaceful sleep, she was startled awake by dark musings that she couldn’t remember once her eyes opened. When the dawn came, it found her sitting at the dining-hall table studying the way the light shimmered from beneath
, glimmering off the smooth metallic surface.

  Russel strode in an hour after she’d found her way there. His dark hair was messy around his head and his clothes rumpled from sleep. Angelica couldn’t help the way her body reacted when the man was around. Something about the way he looked made her heart hammer despite her better judgment. She knew there was no sense in getting involved; after all, there was no telling if she would even survive what was coming, let alone if Russel would.

  But it just wasn’t fair. She’d never really thought about romance, not the way Amber always had, with her head in a new romance book seemingly every day. But if the end really was looming up before her, wouldn’t it be nice if she had at least known the touch of one lover?

  And she thought Russel would be perfect for the job. There was something about the way he had held her tightly during that first storm, like he was trying to keep her out of sight of the sentry. And the smell of him when they were near one another. And the way that he seemed to get her jokes.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Russel asked, pulling Angelica from her musings.

  “No, you?” she asked. Russel came to sit beside her, setting down a cup of the thick liquid the giants liked to serve them. Angelica liked it because it was sweet.

  His leg brushed hers when he sat down, and her heart skipped a beat. It felt warm, and right. She leaned back in her chair, willing herself to calm down.

  “I slept fine,” he said. His voice was like a purr of velvet against her skin.

  Stop, she told herself.

  “Anything you’d like to talk about?” Russel asked.

  Angelica shook her head, not trusting her voice. Goddess, this is dumb! She scolded herself. She’d always made fun of women in stories who let their hearts get the better of them, but now that she was here, and the doom of facing Arael was looming before her in just a few days, she couldn’t help thinking of all the things she was going to miss out on if they couldn’t best him.

  “Why are you crying?” Russel asked, leaning forward to brush a tear from her face.

  “Was I?” Angelica asked. Now that she was aware of it, she could feel the hot tears burning her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” Russel said, placing his hand on the back of her neck. Angelica’s eyes drifted down to his strong arm and the thick coat of black hair that covered it. She liked the way the woven hemp bracelet contrasted with his tan.

  “It’s stupid,” Angelica said.

  “If it bothers you, it isn’t stupid. Just tell me.” Russel spoke softly, encouragingly.

  Like a floodgate had opened, the words flowed from her. “What if this is the end? What if this meeting with Arael only ends with my death? All I can see beyond that point, beyond that future, is darkness, and it scares me what that darkness could be. I feel doom looming up before me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m deathly scared.” Unbidden, the tears flowed down her face.

  “But there is something after death, so to see darkness is silly. There’s a whole other life just beyond this one. You can see proof of that with your visions, with who your mother was,” Russel argued. “Why would death be the end?”

  “But it’s the end of my humanity!” Angelica cried out. “And there’s so much humanity I haven’t experienced yet, so much I don’t know, and haven’t felt. I’ve never known what it’s like to fall in love, to kiss, to have sex! I’ve only known the bad, the evil, the contempt that others feel for my family and I!”

  “Angelica,” Russel looked deep into Angelica’s eyes. “This world is horrible, and this world is cruel. All we can do is survive, and hope to find that one person that we can take solace in, that one person who we can share the torment with, and who helps make it better.”

  “But I will never have that. I will—”

  Russel silenced her with a kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, chasing all thought from her mind except how moist his lips were, how firm his tongue was. She’d never kissed anyone before, and Angelica wondered at how incredibly soft Russel’s lips were. Angelica’s eyes fluttered shut as she took in the scent of Russel’s hot skin, the way his facial hair scratched her lips as they parted for his tongue. The way his hand was firm behind her back, pulling her in close to him.

  Quite a while later, Angelica was arranging herself in her chair once more, a blush coloring her cheeks. So that’s what everyone goes on about?

  “That was. . . ” Russel raised his eyebrows. “Wow. You sure you never did that before?”

  “No,” Angelica blushed, sliding back to her own chair and straightening her dressing gown back around herself.

  “Couldn’t prove it by me,” Russel said, fidgeting with his clothes and sitting back up to his cup of brew. “So, do you feel any better?” He wasn’t poking fun at her, he was being sincere.

  “I did, but now all of the worry is back again,” she confessed. “But thank you, at least I got to know what it was like.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Russel said, sliding his chair closer to her. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.” But there was a tone in his voice that told Angelica he didn’t really believe it.

  “How can it be?” she asked. “We’re going up against Arael, who’s been around since before mankind. We haven’t even gotten our wings yet.”

  “These things have a way of coming around. You’ll be fine. It isn’t always about age or experience; sometimes it’s about luck. Plus, you have Sylvie LaFaye in there, right?” Russel asked, his hand idly stroking the back of her neck. Now that they’d their first moment of closeness, touching seemed natural.

  “Yea,” Angelica said. She didn’t tell Russel that she had essentially locked her mother out. She hadn’t even felt that second presence in her body in a very long time. Would she be able to channel it if needed?

  “Alright then. Now I think we should go get washed up before the others come.” Russel said, setting his mug down and standing.

  “You go first, I will after,” Angelica said.

  “Who said anything about going first?” Russel said, a sparkle in his eye as he pulled Angelica up out of her seat and her heart did another summersault.

  Breakfast came and went, and before Jovian knew it they were being led out of the building and into the brightness of another day. The wyrded cloak around his shoulders did a lot of good chasing away the cold of the morning, but not all of it. To say he was snug would be a lie. The cloaks chased away death from exposure and made their travel more bearable, but he was still cold.

  Phaleco was already outside with a detachment of giants, more than had been with them recently, and Jovian thought maybe this was a search party that was only now meeting up with them.

  “Your things have already been loaded up,” Phaleco said, coming up to them. “We’ll see you off, but there’s no way that we can travel as fast as the groo, so we will, regrettably, not be able to accompany you.”

  Jovian soon lost the rest of her speech, if there was any, because just then a white creature stepped out from beside a building, followed by a group of others. He assumed these were the groo, since they had traveling packs slung around them, tied in a strange way since their shoulders and arms were much too large, and far too wide, to fit the backpacks comfortably.

  The groo were in the general shape of a human, just three times as wide and three times as large. They were covered in coarse white hair from head to toe, and were naked, though naked in the way a dog might be naked. If he hadn’t seen them with the giants, Jovian would have been frightened by their clawed hands, their large-toothed mouths, and their prominent brows.

  But as one looked at him, he realized there was a softness to their eyes, an intelligence that belied their animal appearance. He wouldn’t be surprised if the groo were able to talk, or speak to humans. Their hands, though ending in alarmingly large claws, had fingers like his did, and their feet ended in toes.

  “They look almost human,” Maeven said, taking hold of Jovian’s hand. The closeness helped, and Jovian relaxed
muscles he hadn’t realized were tense.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

  “You don’t think so?” Maeven said, looking at Jovian. “Or is there something else on your mind?”

  “There’s always something else on my mind,” Jovian mumbled. He rubbed his tired face, and couldn’t help but feel the scar that split it in half. He hoped that was the worst that would happen, but couldn’t help remembering the last fight they’d had with a grigori, and that wasn’t even their leader.

  Maeven’s eyes followed Jovian’s fingers and he squeezed Jovian’s hand reassuringly, though he didn’t say anything. Likely he knew how futile it would be.

  “So, how do we ride them?” Joya asked, drawing all attention to her.

  One groo stepped forward and started motioning with his hand. Phaleco seemed to be reading what his fingers were saying. It reminded Jovian of how he’d seen Grace communicate in the trade language with hand and word.

  “You don’t ride them; they aren’t beasts. They will carry you,” Phaleco said, turning to them. “This one says he will carry you, Joya.”

  Joya straightened the front of her tunic over her trousers and stepped forward nervously. “Does he have a name?”

  Phaleco smiled knowingly. “Not that any human tongue can pronounce. The groo put less emphasis on speaking and more on motions.”

  Joya nodded, but before she could say anything more, the groo that had communicated lifted her up into his arms. There he held her, cradled in the crook of one arm so that she was kind of sitting but at the same time pinned to his body with his arm. Instantly she seemed to relax.

  “Now we must part,” Phaleco said. “We will keep a larger group here to protect the city. If any angels come looking for you, they will find their journey at an abrupt end.”

  Jovian nodded, but before he could say anything another groo had swept him into its embrace. Before long all of the traveling companions had been chosen by a groo, and they were off. Jovian found he couldn’t watch the ground speed by without getting sick, and that the wind hurt his face with the speed of their passing. He pulled his cloak up tight around his face, but the rest of his body was surprisingly warm and comfortable, held as close as he was to the body of the groo.