by A. R. Crebs
"Losing Hope"
Chapter 9
As soon as permission was given, Dovian turned the dial of his frequency tuner. He just wanted to get out of the rotunda and away from Sapphire as fast as possible. Once traveling through the spindle of time, Dovian allowed his wings to carry him at a bursting speed. He didn’t care how fast he was going and ignored the feelings of darkness and unbearable pain and sadness that engulfed the warp around him. Dovian held his eyes clenched shut. Home, he just wanted to get home. He needed to be as far away from civilization as possible. The blackness of space swirled around him, stars and balls of light flashing about as he traveled in the alternate dimension. The journey was much faster than he had expected. Once he was near his desired location, he twisted his frequency tuner again, appearing in Ives far off in the plush fields outside the desolate city.
Dovian frowned, trying to gather his bearings. He was too upset; he couldn’t even travel properly. Shaking his wings in frustration, he pushed off the ground and burst into high speed toward his cathedral, a roar sounding from his movement. The plants flattened to the earth behind him as he propelled forward. Splashes painfully pelting against his skin, the rain threatened to cut Dovian to pieces as he sped toward the city. He didn’t care. Faster, he needed to go faster. The cathedral was in sight, and Dovian covered his face as he prepared for the impact. He was too hasty. There was no time to slow, and the Sorcēarian crashed through the side of the building, bricks and marble shattering to dust. He tumbled and rolled, coming to a halt against the wall on the opposite side of the room. The impact crushed all the air out of the man’s lungs.
Dovian moaned. Despite the violent entry into his home, he quickly pushed to his feet. Dust fogged around him as he stumbled into the hallway, trying not to give in to the lurching of his stomach. Dovian searched with nervous eyes as he tried to still the shaking of his hands and keep from throwing up his lunch.
Making his way into a small bathroom, Dovian halted at the sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were glowing so brightly he could barely see himself within the darkness of the room. Covered in grey dust, he looked like a ghost. The man grumbled and quickly shook out his hair and robes. Turning on the hot water, Dovian hurriedly washed himself. He harshly ran his hands over his face repeatedly. When he looked into the mirror again, he cried out, seeing blood smeared all over himself rather than the wet powder from the collision. He heaved, gagging. Cupping the water with his hands, he rinsed out his mouth and continued his fanatical cleansing.
‘Blood, blood everywhere. It’s everywhere.’
He looked over his shoulder and shuddered, seeing dead bodies spread throughout the halls and scattered across the bathroom floor. Dovian blinked, trying to force the images away.
‘They are all dead.’
From afar, he could hear the screams of the women and children, the moans from the people on the battlefield. He could feel the sting in his back from the removal of his apparatus. He could feel the pain of his dying friends; he could hear the sobs from those who were dragging themselves toward their loved ones, crying out their names.
Dovian shook his head, washing his face again.
‘Not real. It’s not real.’
Dropping his hands roughly onto the edge of the sink, Dovian leaned forward, staring at his white pupils.
“That happened a long time ago,” he murmured to his reflection.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward the doorway, Dovian instantly became a statue of ice. He erupted with a loud scream, falling backward into the old shower, hitting the back of his head against the stone wall. His eyes swirled with double vision as he made out the body of I’Lanthe standing in the doorway. She beckoned to the man, her hand waving him toward her. Her eyes were white with death. Her dark-brown curls stuck to the sides of her neck and shoulders due to the rain that soaked her body. Blood seeped through her purple robes. Dovian closed his eyes, trying to blink the vision away.
‘It’s not real,’ he thought. Had he lost control over his powers? Were his illusions being brought to life by his own mind, torturing himself?
“Go to her,” I’Lanthe’s voice whispered.
Opening his eyes once again, Dovian shuddered as the woman was still there, her death stare upon him.
“She needs you,” the woman’s voice called again through her closed lips.
He ran his hands over his face, and as he looked back at the doorway, he felt a mixture of relief and fright wash over him. The ghastly vision vanished, but the voice called out once more.
“You need her,” it said one last time.
Dovian sat in the shower, his long legs stretched out on the sides of the raised step. Silence consumed him and the room. He remained there, staring, trying to gather his breath.
Ivory was located only a couple of buildings away. She had heard the boom of Dovian crashing into his cathedral. Frightened, she rushed to one of the windows of the upper floors. From where she was, she could see a dust cloud billowing from one side of his home. The woman tightened her grip on the windowsill, the roaring thunder and gusting winds scaring her all the more. She wasn’t sure what had happened, and she wasn’t sure whether or not to go check up on the man. Was he alright? Perhaps he was attacked by some of Sapphire’s monsters. Ivory wasn’t positive, but the way the lightning flashed and crackled made her push away from the window. A loud huff alerted her, and she turned to find Petey in the dark room with her. Ivory heavily exhaled. The lizard looked a little perturbed at her for leaving the safety of her bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Petey,” Ivory whispered, running her hand along the massive creature’s neck.
Hector came sauntering in, rubbing against her ankles. She also gave him a pet behind his fringe.
“I’ll try not to run off again,” she said.
Feeling a bit tired, she sat on the ground beside the smaller lizard. He quickly curled beside her, trying to gather some body heat. Ivory frowned. She wished she could provide better warmth. Instead, she was a cold robot. Her body was full of icy steel and fancy alloys, wires, and churning hydraulic fluid.
“I’m a robot,” she sniffled, trailing her hands up and down Hector’s fringe. “How can I even compare to someone like I’Lanthe? How does an empty vessel like me compare to something as magnificent as a Sorcēarian? A beautiful Sorcēarian that Dovian loved on top of that. I…I can’t.” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”
Petey groaned and rested on the floor beside her. She leaned against the creature, her thoughts spiraling through her mind. After a small mental debate, tossing and turning over the memories that belonged to her and those that were I’Lanthe’s, Ivory came to a simple solution. Why dwell on the issue? Her choice was easy. Clearly, she had feelings for Dovian. She wasn’t going to help herself or Dovian if she continued on her clueless path of being Ivory, the girl with amnesia. She had to be I’Lanthe.
“I’ve made up my mind,” Ivory whispered.
“And which mind is that?” Dovian’s voice came from down the hall.
Ivory gave a gasp, jumping to her feet. A delicate hand rested against her chest.
Dovian walked into the room, running his shoulder against the wall as he came to a stop against the doorframe. He hid behind his hood, but his frosty gaze remained visible. Ivory swallowed hard, feeling a bit frightened by his presence. Was he injured? She didn’t like the glare he was feeding her, nor the wrinkle in his brow. Placing a shaky hand against the frame, he straightened his posture.
“Dovian…" she spoke slowly, “are you okay?”
A menacing, quivering laugh fell past the Sorcēarian’s lips. It gave her chills.
“I killed a man today,” he casually stated. He held his hands out to the side, shrugging.
Ivory’s eyes were like saucers. “Wha…what?”
“Dr. Camery. I killed Dr. Camery.” Dovian inched toward Ivory. The lizards quickly scuttled out of the way.
“Why?” she aske
d, her voice high-pitched. “Why would you do that?”
Dovian scoffed. “Sapphire’s orders.”
Ivory held her breath as Dovian approached her. Gingerly, he touched her shoulders as he peered down at her.
“Oh, Dovian,” Ivory whispered. She knew what that meant. He wasn’t given a choice.
Placing his hands on Ivory’s hips, Dovian pulled her against him. She nervously locked eyes with him.
“I saw Aria and Troy,” he grumbled.
Ivory caught her breath.
“They are in Saray. They are not going to surrender,” he explained.
She shivered under his touch. “What, what does that mean?”
Dovian kept his eyes on her face, making her uncomfortable. “I’ll have to kill them later…whenever our paths cross again.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Yes,” he replied.
Ivory inhaled deeply. She glared at the man standing before her. “I won’t let you.”
“Fight with me all you want, but Sapphire will have her way.”
“I don’t care about Sapphire. I don’t care about her stupid demons either. I care about you and Troy and Aria. I care about keeping our friends alive, keeping our relationship alive,” she said as boldly as she could.
“I have to do as she says, to keep the war as far away as possible from you,” Dovian murmured.
“Don’t worry about me! I’m not worth the destruction of the world, and you know it.”
Dovian narrowed his gaze. “I can’t let you die.”
“No…it probably would be best if I don’t die, but I am more than capable of protecting myself. As I said, I’m not worried about myself; I’m worried about you.” She wrapped her arms around him in return.
Dovian’s grip on her waist loosened. He tried to retract from her, put she held him firmly in place.
“If I’m gone…who will make sure you make the right decision?” Ivory questioned.
Dovian remained silent.
“I need to be here by your side to make sure you make all the right choices. You are not allowed to destroy the world. You are not allowed to kill Aria and Troy, you understand?” she sternly stated.
Dovian stared at the dusty marble floor.
“You’re a good man, Dovian. Don’t let Euclid or Sapphire make you feel otherwise. That’s what they want,” she added.
“I’m not a good man. I’ve run away from humanity. I’ve tried killing myself over and again just to end the pain. I allowed the destruction of our race…my race. I’ve broken every rule. I’m cursed,” he said.
“You’re not cursed.” She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “Dovian, has it ever occurred to you that you are alive because you are meant to be? This isn’t a curse. It’s an opportunity.”
He remained silent.
“You cannot allow Hell on this plane. I won’t let you,” she said in a low tone.
“And how do you plan on stopping me?” Dovian asked, his eyes returning to her in a daring glare.
“By reminding you why you didn’t allow Euclid to go through with his plans before,” she said. Ivory’s voice dipped into I’Lanthe’s vocals, and Dovian’s grip tightened on her once again. She pulled his forehead against hers. “By reminding you of the most important thing we were brought up to believe in.”
Dovian swallowed thickly, his pulse becoming erratic. “Which is?” he asked, almost testing her.
Ivory giggled. “Always the teacher….” She ran her hands through his hair and stepped onto her tiptoes. With her lips grazing his, she whispered. “Love.”
Dovian didn’t need any more of an invitation before he kissed her. She breathed in deeply, reveling in the feel of Dovian’s lips against hers. Apparently Ivory’s imitation of I’Lanthe was convincing enough as Dovian’s hands were all over her, his kisses full of need. He pulled her hips against his, and she gave another moan.
“Dovian…” she muttered, feeling countless memories and emotions flooding through her.
She couldn’t keep her breath. Quick gasps erupted from her as Dovian took to her neck, kissing and breathing near her ear. His hands fumbled for her belted corset, and Ivory grabbed the front of his robes, gathering his attention. He gave her a feral look, and she didn’t waste any time for fear of him catching her lie.
“Bedroom,” she moaned, the word sounding more seductive than she had intended.
Dovian made a similar sound and grabbed her hand, hurriedly leading her to the lower level where I’Lanthe’s room was located. Ivory ran with him, trying to keep up. Her free hand was on her chest; butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She knew she was going to regret this decision, especially if Dovian found out that she was imitating I’Lanthe. Still, Ivory had to. He needed her to be strong for him, to be the woman he wanted. Ivory wasn’t going to help him, but I’Lanthe could. And seeing and hearing the desperation in his eyes and voice was enough to break her heart. He needed her.
Rounding the corner into I’Lanthe’s old room, Dovian immediately twirled Ivory into his arms, kissing her all over as he gently guided her backward onto the bed. She fell back onto the mattress and tried her best not to appear weak or nervous. But as he removed his robes and climbed atop her and met her with a kiss, Ivory’s anxiety melted away.
She would hold up her front as best as she could…for Dovian’s sake. Besides, she needed it, too.
Mr. Walten staggered into the hall, trying his best to finish tying his tie. He eyed the tall slender beauty next to him. She had a manicured hand on his shoulder as she led him. Despite her long dark hair, mocha skin, and fitted skirt suit, Walten was not captivated by her. In fact, he was deathly afraid of this woman. Her pink lips formed into a tight, suspicious smile. Bright caramel-colored eyes watched Walten as he struggled to smooth out his hair. He had to appear his best during this meeting. He wore his most expensive suit, his favorite exotic cologne, and had his checkbook with him. He was prepared for anything.
‘Who the hell are you kidding?’ he thought.
As if Sapphire gave a damn about anything he had to offer. He screwed up, and he screwed up badly. Not only had he upset the satanic child, but he was sure the rest of the world’s elitists were fed up with his crap. Now that the truth was out, there was no one that Walten could trust. For all he knew, there could be a team of assassins waiting for him as soon as he passed through that rich mahogany door.
Eyeing the eerie beauty beside him, Walten nervously cleared his throat. He could tell this lady wasn’t just an ordinary woman. She was sent by Sapphire to pick him up and bring him to the important gathering. There was something about her that was off, however. He shivered again as she smiled even wider, her white teeth glimmering in the light.
“You act like you’ve seen a ghost, Mr. Walten,” her silky voice purred.
“I’ve just never seen you before, is all,” he answered.
Catching her eyebrow raise and hearing the quiet scoff pass through her nose; Walten chewed on the inside of his cheek. This chick was an android, he just knew it. And by the way she was looking at him with her facetious smile and making little quips about ghosts, he was sure she was inhabited by one of Sapphire’s demons. The thought was enough to give him chills.
“Well, sir….” She halted before the door, turning to face Walten. Walking to the man, she tightened his tie with a rough jerk, pulling his head up to look into her shimmering eyes. “Are you ready for your meeting?” she asked as she pulled away and grabbed the knob to the mahogany door.
Walten stood rigidly in his place, staring blankly at the door before him. Something was off. The whole room seemed to be exuding a negative energy. No, not negative, something evil. That door, with the woman’s polished hand upon its golden knob, was an ominous entryway into the depths of Hell. Walten was so screwed.
Clearing his throat and adjusting his vest, the young CEO nodded. The seductress smiled and twisted the knob.
“After you,” she said.
; With a hand spread across the wooden surface, the woman simultaneously pushed the door open and guided Walten inside. He looked upon her face, staring into her eyes as they seemed to flicker with amusement. She left an unsettling feeling within his gut. Nope, he did not trust her one bit.
Looking straight ahead, Walten was appalled by the ghastly sight; his heart nearly burst from his chest. It took a moment to register what he saw as he took a couple more slow steps, his eyes widening, his breathing coming to a halt.
“Wha…what is this?” he asked, deathly frightened.
He was in the usual rotunda where all of the elitists would gather, except the interior was remarkably different this time around. The rich wood-paneled walls were covered in gore. Mushy entrails were scattered and smashed against the walls, the dark reds blending in with the scarlet curtains that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows. There were stains all over the cream carpets; the once pristine color was marred with streaks of blood and crunchy bits of bone intermixed with what looked like brain matter. Covering the tabletop were strips of human skin. The chandeliers were swinging back and forth by the weight of the limbs dangling from the lights. Eyes, there were eyes randomly scattered throughout the room. Walten stared at the floor beneath his feet, lifting up one shoe from the blood-soaked carpet. The man swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.
“How do you like the new interior decoration?” Sapphire’s voice called out from the front of the room. Walten’s gaze tore to the black leather chair at the head of the conference table. It swiveled around, revealing the child. She nearly glowed beneath the golden light of the room with her white dress, pale skin, and blonde hair. The red surrounded her. As she spoke, it seemed the walls moved like red waves in the ocean. “My designers were very creative. They come from very far away, but their taste is rather charming, don’t you think? I just love the color red.”