by Rachael Byrd
Hawk lit a candle, bathing his hands in a warm, uneasy light.
This place seemed familiar enough but something about it still threw Intrigue's mind off-track, making it obvious that although this place existed and had existed in her mind, so completely that it had hurled her into feelings of gut-wrenching deja vu, it hadn't existed in any reality. She had never lived in this house, never breathed this smoky air, never seen these black-smeared walls. She was beginning to understand the edge of how this was possible, and just thinking around the edges made her mind reel. Intrigue forced her thoughts aside, realizing that for the time being, acceptance was safer than consideration.
She hadn't needed the light to see the room—in fact, it made everything more difficult to see and increased the danger that the vampires would be able to trace them—but it lent an undeniable air of authenticity to her surroundings.
"Put it out."
He did so.
* * * *
Hawk took another deep drag from his hipflask, emptying it, and looked at it morosely. He no longer thought he needed human blood—if something happened to Talon, he'd know it without ever having to taste her blood in his flask—but he was unable to give up his addiction so suddenly. He glanced at Intrigue out of the corner of his eye, and saw Gemstone standing there for a moment. He blinked and she was gone.
It was the light from the candle, perhaps, that had made Intrigue seem well over six feet tall and the sudden darkness that made her hair seem longer, almost black. Perhaps it was the moonlight reflecting in her brilliant emerald eyes that made them look black, cool as obsidian. He had seen her as she had been on the other side of the golden river, her long hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, which were held tautly back, as defiant as any ever had been. Her eyes had held a spark of mischief, but the underlying current had been one of a terrible ferocity and unshakable bloodlust, perhaps a touch of insanity also. He had seen all this in one moment, before it was as gone to him as Talon's smile. He looked upon Intrigue now in a new light, certain that he was not wrong, that there was no way he was wrong.
"That's what the river had done to you, Gemstone, I see it now. You're not Gemstone now; your name might truly be Intrigue for all I know—though I don't know much—you are as fascinating ... as intriguing, if you prefer ... as you ever were, and there is something new in your wondrous green eyes. You look so like your mother, Gem, and I never saw her."
"How do you know it's true then?"
"You've seen her. And in a way, I did. She was there when we fought Phoenyx; your father's ghost was cradling her corpse when he told you to let it all go. It doesn't matter how I know. How hardly ever matters here.” He glanced at her again, measuring what he saw in her eyes.
"It's because it's not what it was before the flood. The golden waters changed everything. You were never capable of being destroyed in any manner until that shining brook closed its mouth around you, but you've lost your life now. They changed the house, too. It's bigger. That's why your mind has such a hard time working around it.” He waved his arm toward the wall opposite them. “Do you think you could lead me through this house?"
"No; how could I?"
"Why don't you try, Gemstone?"
* * * *
She didn't protest his use of that foreign name, not now. She was beginning to accept that perhaps he was right, and even if he was insane, what difference did it make? She knew Intrigue was not her name; how could one false name weigh more than another?
"Because I can't. This is useless, Hawk; we should be out finding the others."
"Not until you know your Den as well as any Leader ever did. Show me that you've remembered. Where is the room with the slits in the ceiling to let in the sunlight? When I rebuilt your house, I added them too, as they were. There were earth boxes on the floor; you filled them with fresh soil and seed each spring. They were all that kept you and the orphans alive those few winters. Where is it?"
Like a girl in a dream, Intrigue looked to her left. Three doors, evenly spaced from one another, and she knew that they all led to the same room. Hawk smiled knowingly, but she paid him no mind. The boards squeaked in quiet protest beneath her feet but she knew where the loudest boards were and avoided them.
The door swung open beneath the pressure of her fingertips and there was the room. Fruits and vegetables grew on vibrantly overzealous plants, swollen tomatoes dragging the vines that carried them nearly to the floor. Not one of the boxes was lacking for an abundance of plants and not one vine was unaffected by an excessive burden.
As Intrigue watched, the stem of one hugely swollen tomato snapped and the tomato tumbled to the floor and rolled to rest between her feet. She lifted it wonderingly. The skin broke easily beneath her fangs and the flavor of the fruit was cool and tangy. She stared around her, confused and slightly frightened, but there was a strong sense of calm that underlay all else; there was nothing unexpected here; her dream was steady and predictable.
"Take me to the room where the orphans slept,” Hawk said.
A brief trek back across the main room and she pushed open another door. Stepping into the room, she felt briefly nostalgic; she could almost hear the chatter of young girls here and she could not bear to think that she had killed them in any life, for any purpose.
There was a framed painting (photograph) on the wall: a smiling young girl of perhaps eight or nine with long, pale blonde hair and wide, wondering eyes framed by long dark lashes. The girl stared straight up at the painter (photographer), looking startled, maybe slightly frightened. There was something unusual about the image, and as Intrigue approached it, a wave of uneasiness passed over her. There were two small dots: one in the girl's forehead, the other in her chest. As she drew closer, Intrigue could see that they were bullet wounds. Closer still and she could see the blood around them. Still nearer, and the holes were gaping wounds and the girl in the picture was not simply frightened, she was terrified and dying. Intrigue blinked, horrified and confused, and the wounds were gone. The girl (Hera) was smiling blithely out of her frame, her eyes a little distant, but otherwise perfectly natural.
"You have to accept it, Intrigue. Maybe you're not Gemstone now, maybe there's nothing of that life that carried over here, but I think that there is. I think you've still got a lot of her in you and you can't get it out. Gem was a murderess, but it wasn't out of hatred that she killed those children—mostly not; she didn't like them at all, but she wouldn't have killed them out of dislike—and she was an honest, caring leader. She kept us all close, did her best to keep us all as a group, even after Phoenyx had strayed so far. Phoenyx honestly regretted what she was doing, I think, and that was because of Gemstone.” Hawk reached for her hand and Intrigue allowed him to take it, silent and waiting for him to continue.
"She was scary at times, maybe she was missing part of her mind—it's perfectly possible, considering her parents, but she was strong, and that's why you have to accept her. She's not a ghost, not something tangible and not some foreign spirit trying to control you. She is you. You're strong, don't mistake that, but she was ruthless. She killed Seir alone. She killed Hera and that was her only regret. She thought Hera was being controlled by a demoness; at the time, she couldn't see that it was Crystal who was being led astray. The mistake was understandable; they looked a lot alike. That's what you have to accept. Accept her sins along with her strength and cunning. We can't do anything without Gemstone; if you're going to leave her on the other side of the river, we might as well give up now. She's the leader. Do you understand?"
Intrigue shrugged. There was something haunting about the portrait of the girl—Hera—on the wall, but she knew that it wasn't meant to haunt her, and so she cast it aside.
"I want to see my room."
"Not yet, Gem—I'd like you to see your mother's room and Crystal's room first. I'd like to take you to your room after that, but sadly, we must first go through the kitchen."
"Will this be a problem?"
"It ma
y be—I'm anxious to see what you make of the weapons cabinet."
Confused, but not protesting, she nodded. “All right."
"Where's your mother's room?"
There was a short, narrow hallway between the edge of the girls’ room and the doorway that led to Myriad's bedchamber but Intrigue slipped through it without difficulty. The door slid open easily enough; the hinges seemed to be well greased. Intrigue stepped through, frowning.
There were blood-streaked hand marks along all the walls; long, finger-width lines that had torn into the hide of the plaster and breached the wood beneath. Intrigue shuddered and tried to pull back, but Hawk had planted himself firmly in the doorway. She leaned against him for a moment.
The carpet was matted with blood, mud, candle wax, and black paint. Intrigue turned to Hawk, her green eyes wide with question.
"The fire never reached this part of the house on this side of the river. It was put out by rain—except on this side of the river, the rain was water."
"What was it on the other side?"
Hawk frowned and fumbled for his empty hipflask. “Blood. Gallons and gallons of blood; the demon queen hovered there beneath her red sky, howling and belching gallons of blood over the flames and onto the dead grass. Hot, fresh blood that never doused a single flame. Except over this room."
Intrigue winced; she had seen the bloodstained grass for a moment in her mind, the grass and a beautiful, silky black rose lying in it.
"Why did you wait so long to escape? Angel trusted you; it would have been easy to get away."
She snapped to attention, looking at him irritably. “I thought it would be easier to get away if they didn't expect me to leave."
"And you didn't think that he would be more willing to send an army to reclaim you if disappeared after accepting his offer?"
Intrigue was quiet, her mind racing but not settling on an answer.
"You did, didn't you? And there was some part of you that wanted that to happen?"
Yes, she admitted miserably to herself, there was. She had wanted just that, and she had wanted to be staked for treason. Staked or forgiven entirely, relinquishing her responsibility either way. She flinched, disgusted with herself. Shrinking from responsibility would never make her problems any slighter.
"That part of you? That's about as far from Gemstone Ivora as you can get. I told you that you need Gem to survive this and I was telling you the truth. You can't be a true Chaotic if you consider joining the vampires for even a moment. It belies everything the Chaotics are. There is vampira in you, Intrigue, and you need to release it, to make room for Gemstone. She's the only one who ever knew how to wield the claws with any accuracy. In her hands, they were lethal weapons."
Intrigue did not question what he meant by ‘the claws'; she supposed this would be made clear to her sooner or later anyway. She walked across the room, and pushed the door leading to her sister's room open.
The smell that rushed out of the sealed tomb was both human and nonexistent. For the first few moments, Intrigue could almost see a small blonde girl by the name of Crystal in her room, cornered on her cot while some demon queen told her how great and powerful she could become, how there would be food and warmth and safety; all it would take was a little symbiosis. A second later, the room was just a dark place filled with evil thoughts and memories. This room belonged entirely to something called Mara; there was nothing here of a small girl named Crystal. Intrigue's stomach turned and she pulled the door closed.
"You don't want to go in there?"
"No."
"Any reason for me to ask why?"
"You could ask,” Intrigue said, “but I don't know the answer."
"That's answer enough. We won't go in there if you don't like it."
"If anyone belongs in there, it's someone like Phoenyx."
He shrugged. They came back into the main room. She took a right and pushed the door to the kitchen open.
The floor was beautiful hardwood, but there were no windows, not even blacked ones. An old potbellied woodstove stood along the opposite wall, its lips open to an empty mouth, swept clean of ashes. A pile of graying wood stood next to it, forgotten.
Intrigue walked across to the wood stove. It was not quite as she had envisioned it, but close enough. There was a presence here in this room, so strong it was almost tangible. She closed her eyes, and felt warm fingertips close gently around her throat, working their way upward, pulling at her lips, offering her some secret.
"Intrigue."
She snapped around nervously and the phantom hands melted away.
"See something?"
She shook her head slowly.
"Feel something?"
She shrugged and her eyes fixed on the wooden cabinet that was fixed to the wall closest to the main room. She moved toward it, feeling completely out of control, as though someone else had entered her brain and was maneuvering her through the room. She didn't care. She had to see what was in that cabinet. She was aware of Hawk's scrutiny, of the way his eyes never left her, but that didn't matter now. The latch on the cabinet was easy to figure out and she swung the door open.
She didn't understand at first. Hung on rows of pegs were pairs of long, claw-like appendages that might have been used as weapons. She reached out slowly, frightened and nervous, but curious all the same. Her hands closed around the cool steel of the largest pair and her veins thrilled with cold.
There was a small mirror fixated to the inside of the cabinet doors, and glancing at it now, Intrigue could see someone else next to her. The girl was right behind her, much taller than her but still within the range of the mirror. The girl's hair was long and dark, her frightfully pale skin stretched over a skeletal face, but here was a pair of dark brown eyes that knew all, saw all, and Intrigue was not afraid. The girl reached out with long, thin hands, and wrapped them gently around Intrigue's throat. Intrigue watched, anticipating what was about to happen, and embracing this feeling of being divided without actually losing anything. The girl was Gemstone.
Gem ran her long, delicate fingertips over Intrigue's face, repeatedly over her eyes and mouth. The pale eyelids closed, and the other girl faded. Intrigue closed her own eyes. She felt briefly disoriented, then suddenly stronger and more complete than she had ever felt. There was no doubt left; Intrigue knew that she was Chaotic, just as she knew that everything was going to be all right. There was a strength in her arms and legs that there had never been and she felt as though she could fight Angel or Phoenyx or both, and their entire army beside, without having to stop and catch her breath.
She could see every aspect of Gemstone's past; she understood what had motivated her to kill the children and why she'd believed she was doing them a service. She could feel the slight madness, the watery psychosis that had allowed her to see all that she could see. She knew everything that there was to know about this house, and she knew how to wield these claws. She saw, she understood, and she immediately disregarded most of it. Perhaps it had been important at one point—hell, she'd lived it hadn't she? But there was something else important: it was over. All of it was blessedly, completely over. She had the strength she needed, the knowledge, the history, should she ever need to call upon it, and she had the ability and agility to use the claws she held in her hands.
Hawk tapped her on the shoulder and Intrigue turned to him reluctantly.
"What is your name?"
She hesitated, closing her eyes and drawing herself inward. She searched through every part of herself for someone else but came back with her hands empty.
"Intrigue. She's not here now; Hawk. Gemstone died on the other side of the river."
Hawk's face crumpled, and Intrigue was suddenly sure the young vampire was about to cry.
"Would you have me die to bring her back?” Intrigue asked.
Slowly, miserably, he looked up at her and she knew his answer. She frowned. “Dying wouldn't bring her back. I'm Intrigue, and I have no past, no history before Aymir's ca
tching me, but I'm fuller now, more complete. You were at least partially right, Hawk. She was ruthless and more than a little crazy. But she was smart and she's driven out all the vampira in me. We can do this."
Hawk's face brightened a little. “Can we?"
"Do you doubt it?"
* * * *
He looked at her in the moonlight, while her smile was its proudest and most radiant, and he witnessed the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Gemstone was dead, but not forgotten. There was something of her still, and it was more than enough to succeed, but that was not the most potent of the beauty.
Intrigue had seen all there was to see, and she had been honest; there was nothing left of a vampira in her. She was the purest, strongest Chaotic that had yet walked The City, and she had every intent of purging the infected before they spread the epidemic further.
Inteigue strapped the claws to her wrists. She carefully tightened the supports to the sides of her fingers, then laced the leather straps around her wrists, securing the claws in place. Intrigue flexed her hand, smiling as the weapons smoothly bent to the shape of her hands.
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12
They stood there together, Intrigue seeing through the darkness as clearly as she had ever seen in daylight.
"What now, Intrigue?"
She turned to look at Hawk. Her eyes were living torches that spoke of an innate fearlessness and unparalleled savagery. There was strength now in the curves of her face; there was nothing about her to suggest insecurity or unknowing.
"What do you think Angel would think of me now, were we to go back? Would he see me as I was, do you think?"
Cautious, Hawk shook his head. “The vampira he was infatuated with is dead and in her grave, where she belongs."