“Oh, calm down, Jos. I am almost done.”
“You better not have made me look terrible.”
“No one will recognize you. That’s for sure,” she laughed.
“What does that mean?” Now I was worried.
“Nothing. Stop freaking out. You can open your eyes now. You have to wait twenty minutes for it to develop and you’re going to look like a loon sitting still with your eyes closed for that long.”
I opened them, letting my eyes get used to the sharp chemical burn. Wyn stood in the middle of my bathroom with a huge grin on her face as she began to remove her gloves that were covered with cherry-red hair dye. She had told me she was dying my hair red, but for some reason I had pictured an auburn color like hers.
“Red? Wyn! That’s red!” Wyn grinned at me evilly, flexing her one hand of still gloved fingers at me.
“And black,” she provided happily. “It’s kind of all blended and fun! You’re going to love it!”
“Wyn! My hair was already black! Why did you dye it more black?”
“Really, Jos. Calm down. You’re going to look so good,” she squealed and went back to cleaning up, dancing to the Styx music she had playing on the stereo.
“I don’t feel like I am going to look so good.”
Wyn just sighed at me and cranked up the radio in an effort to tune out my complaints.
“Wyn!” I attempted to yell above the music.
She turned down the radio and looked at me skeptically. “You’re not going to keep complaining are you?”
“No,” I said. “I was just wondering what you could tell me about Edmund’s other children.”
She stopped dead in her attempts at cleaning up, her arms falling to her sides. “I am not sure I am supposed to tell you about that.”
“It’s okay, Wyn. Ilyan told me.”
“What did he tell you?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“What Edmund makes his children do. He let it slip that Ovailia was one of them.”
She waited before nodding and leaned against the sink to face me.
“Edmund wasn’t always like that, you know. Ilyan’s father and mother were bonded about 1200 years before Ilyan was born, Ovailia was born about 30 years later. About two hundred years after that, he began to change. They have legends and songs and beautiful paintings of the love shared by Edmund, the bearer of the first mark, and Filare, the Skȓítek he shared his life with.”
“What happened? I mean, if he loved her so much, why did he leave her?” The eager light that had filled Wyn’s dark eyes vanished at my question.
“Edmund saw a woman in a town called Farcina. He lusted after her. Timothy…” she spat the word with venom, “my father convinced Edmund to take her, convinced him that he should be the only one to bear the mark. He left everyone, broke all magical beings apart. Edmund planted the seeds of distrust and started a civil war that almost killed all of the magic. And while everyone fought among themselves, Edmund massacred the Drak in secret.”
“The Drak?”
“The Drak were a people who were bred from the mud to be the Keepers of the Waters of Foresight. They were the only ones who could look into the black waters and see the past, present and future. There were stories that they saw a Chosen Child who would destroy Edmund, and stop the madness that he had created. I think that’s why he killed them.”
“You mean like a prophecy?” I tried to keep the disbelief out of my voice.
“I guess you could say that, but they were really anything but. Ilyan was there to witness it. He told Ovailia, not knowing that she was being used as a spy. Because of what Ovailia told Edmund, he ordered the extermination of the Chosen Children.
“And Ilyan still trusts her?” I was appalled. The bubbling turmoil in my stomach at what I was hearing was making me sick.
“Yes. It’s been several hundred years, so he must have a reason. After all, Edmund did almost destroy Ovailia.”
“Does Edmund… Does he really make all his children do... terrible things... or he...”
“Kills them, yeah.” Wyn moved over and sat down next to me softly.
“After Ilyan and Ovailia, there were Markus, Zetta, Drayven, Sylas, Gielle, Mym, Thom and then Ryland. After Ovailia, each one had a different mother, each one forced to do different things. Markus was murdered in 1480, Zetta has been missing since she was 130, Drayven and Mym fought with Ilyan for awhile, but you can’t always escape the shadows of your past. They eventually turned against Ilyan, and he had to fight against his own siblings. Edmund found and probably killed Thom, about 30 years ago. He was hiding as a college student somewhere in the US. One day his letters stopped coming. We all ran out to find him, but we never did. Not even a body. That was when Ilyan commanded that everyone stay together at all times. I never met him, but the way Ilyan talks about him, he was very brave. They all are, or were.” My stomach clenched.
“He made Ryland kill his mother.”
Wyn turned to me with her mouth open in shock. It took her a second to recover.
“I am not surprised,” she said darkly. “Edmund made Ryland torture Ilyan, too.”
“What?” I asked, the memory of Ilyan’s scarred chest filling my mind.
Wyn looked at me guiltily for a minute, thinking she may have said something she shouldn’t have.
“About three years ago, Ilyan was captured in Greece. Edmund could have killed him then, but he made Ryland do it instead, or rather try to; Ilyan is exceptionally powerful...” she faded out and I looked away not really wanting to hear anymore.
Ryland was about thirteen in the Tȍuha. Only months before that, he had been forced to kill his mother. About the same time, the bright red hand print had appeared on his face and we had fled to the mountain for the first time. Three years ago would have made him about fifteen or sixteen, about the time we started breaking into hospitals and defying his father even more. Ryland had gone through all that, and through it all, he had smiled and never said a word. I felt the bile rise in my throat.
“I need a shower.”
“You still have five minutes,” Wyn protested, but I just waved her off. I doubted five minutes would make that much difference.
I was grateful it took so long to get all of the hair dye out. The bright red and dark black streams of color swirled around each other as they slid across the floor of the tub on their way down the drain. I watched the water as I thought about all the people Edmund had hurt, all the people he was still hurting. Strangely, I didn’t feel like I wanted to cry; I just felt sick and angry.
I fought the anger; I didn’t like the way it consumed me. The swirls of red against the tub began to fade as I thought of my mother, even though the pain of her loss was still an open wound. I thought of how Ryland had hugged her the last time I had seen her alive. I thought of our happy smiles and of painting our fingernails ridiculous colors. I thought of Ryland when we got lost in the cemetery, when we played in the fountain at the park near his house. And strangely enough, I thought of my father. He had, in his own way, tried to save me, too. I thought of the good memories from my childhood, part of me wondering where he had disappeared to since giving me the stone. Even Ilyan had said he didn’t know where he was. Before long I was smiling. While the anger at what Edmund had done was still there, it no longer dominated me.
As I rinsed the dye out of my hair, it became apparent exactly how much Wyn had cut off. I wasn’t even sure I had any hair left. The hair on the back of my head was all but gone; only short hairs about an inch long were left. The front half was longer, one side more than the other. I guess I needed some hair to cover the kiss.
I stepped out of the shower reluctantly, not really wanting to look in the mirror yet. I threw on my pajamas and went to find Wyn, a towel wrapped around my head, even though there was no point. I walked into the bedroom to find not only Wyn, but Talon, Ovailia, Ilyan and about seven other Skȓítek’s as well. I wished I could run back into the bathroom, but the sight of Ilyan
made me stop short.
He was dressed in one of the many perfectly-laundered tunics I had seen in his closet that first day. The shirt was long and white, with simple trim in deep gold and purple. A large gold medallion hung around his neck, reaching down his chest halfway. The shirt was cinched to him with a dark leather belt that matched the boots that came to his knees. The worst part was the intricate, jewel-encrusted gold crown he wore on his head. He looked like he was going to a masquerade party. I fought the urge to laugh, instead opting to stare at him, open-mouthed.
“Manners, Joclyn, mravy,” Ilyan scolded roughly.
I looked around me confused, and then did the only thing that made sense, given the situation; I curtseyed.
“My Lord.”
“Let me see it, Joclyn,” Ilyan commanded sternly, his eyes glancing toward my hair line. I removed the towel obediently, feeling uncomfortable. I felt the two remaining clumps of hair swing forward, a chilled breeze tickling my neck.
Ilyan came forward and ran his fingers through my wet hair as he dutifully inspected Wyn’s work; my hair was now so short I could feel his fingers rub against my scalp. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and my shoulders jerked up toward my ears. Ilyan just smiled at me.
“Good, Wyn. The darker the better on the face, I think.” He moved away from me, his small entourage following him to the door.
“We leave tomorrow at nine. Sleep well, Joclyn.” His voice softened just enough to take away the tension that had formed in my neck. He motioned the others out and closed the door behind him, leaving Wyn and me alone.
“Tomorrow,” I repeated. My nerves and butterflies came back instantly; twenty-four hours and Ryland would be here. Safe.
I could do this.
Chapter Thirty
After Wyn had finished with me, I didn’t even recognize myself. My eyes looked like pools of black on a pure white face. Every time I opened them, the glittering silver of my irises flashed menacingly, the shimmering color surprisingly bright against the black. My lips were dark too, the dark burgundy setting off the vibrant red that saturated the front of my hair. The severe cut was nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. It was almost like a reverse mullet; a short boy-cut in the back and stark, straight, longer lengths plastered to my head near my face. The back was dark black that faded into the bright red framing my face.
Wyn had gone one step further by giving my body the persona to match my hair. She had insisted I place a small magnet in my nose that resembled a nose ring and had taken about an hour to draw on a tattoo with a ball point pen. The constant pressure of the tiny pen-tip against my skin had hurt, although not as much as, I assumed, a real tattoo would. After an hour of being drawn on, my skin had thankfully gone numb, and she had left me with an intricate spider web that stretched all the way down my left arm and across my back.
I wore what could only be described as “club clothes”: tight black pants that Wyn had to magically get me into, matched with what my mom would deem stripper heels, and a lime green, loose-fitting, backless shirt. Combine the face and hair with the tight-fitting revealing clothes, and it gave me the appearance of a popular girl on her way to the club. I felt a desperate need to appear more confident than I really was.
The only problem was that I didn’t feel confident. I still felt like the insecure, scared girl I had always been. I looked at myself in the mirror and tugged at my clothes, desperate for some sort of comfort. Standing there alone reminded me so much of my first day without my hoodie. I clutched my necklace, remembering how Ryland had been right there to support me that day, how he had only looked into me and told me how beautiful I was. I exhaled deeply, the memory heaving through me like caffeine.
After Wyn had placed the finishing touches on my disguise, about twenty of us met in the middle of the courtyard in preparation for leaving. I wasn’t the only one who had changed my appearance. Ilyan had cut his hair short and dyed it brown. Talon had kept his hair long but had bleached it white; from the back he almost looked like Ilyan. I got the distinct impression that that was the idea.
I pulled and tugged at my clothes as I walked toward the group, not wanting so much of my body to be visible. We gathered together then all took off into the sky, following Ilyan to a small run-down conference center in a city I didn’t recognize. He herded us into a small room, with the sole intent of holding a planning meeting.
Ilyan had been speaking nonstop since the meeting began; he wrote on an old chalkboard, separated us into groups, and spoke to each member of each group individually. I didn’t understand a word; everyone was speaking only in Czech. I shifted my weight again, my body sore and stiff against the folding metal chair I sat in.
I looked around; luckily I wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable. Wyn sat in the back next to Ovailia whose icy stare was penetrating Ilyan as he continued to lay out what I could only assume was the plan of attack. Ovailia had spoken up several times during the meeting, and although I had no idea what she was saying, her voice was still venomous.
Suddenly, everyone stood in succession, the quick movement startling me. I stood with them but immediately regretted it, as they all began to pull chairs together and sit down in smaller groups. I sat back down, hoping no one had seen my blunder, and focused on my strappy four-inch heels as I once again adjusted my clothes. I just wanted to disappear, and this outfit did not give me that opportunity. I tried to pull out my confidence for rescuing Ryland, but it was no use; only nervous energy remained.
“So, did you enjoy the meeting?” I looked up just as Ilyan pulled up a chair directly in front of me. His hair was too off-putting; I couldn’t seem to stop looking at it. It just made him look too much like Ryland would look without his curls.
“I suppose it would have been great if I had understood anything.”
“Sorry about that. But don’t worry, I’m here to give you the Cliff Notes.” He leaned forward and my eyes drifted to his short brown hair again in an effort to avoid eye contact.
“Gee, thanks.”
“We discussed our attack plan.”
I looked up expectantly, but he just sat there staring at me.
“And?”
“That’s it.”
Two hours of sitting in a hard chair and they had discussed the “attack plan”. Great.
“So what are they doing now? Planning the after-party?” I spat bitterly, but instead of laughing, Ilyan’s face fell instantly.
“They are saying goodbye to their loved ones, Silnỳ.”
I peaked around him to see Wyn and Talon with their arms wrapped around each other, a few other pairs coupled off around them. Most of the others were quietly talking on cell phones. I sat back in my chair, my nerves jumping angrily.
“Are you saying goodbye to your loved ones, too?” My eyes floated to Ovailia who stood against the wall, her head bowed.
“Of course.”
My stomach jumped at his response. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it as my confidence wavered. Ilyan chuckled at my indecision and leaned back against his chair with his arms folded as if he was getting ready for a show. I determinedly looked away from him, but my eyes were automatically drawn to his hair again.
“Are you going to be looking at my hair all night, Joclyn?”
“No!” I responded, a blush at being caught rushing to my cheeks. “It just looks so weird on you.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Ilyan said and pulled on one of the long red strands that hung down at the sides of my face.
“Don’t remind me. My hair grows slowly, too; I am going to be stuck with this hairdo forever.”
To my embarrassment, Ilyan laughed, causing several people to turn.
“What?”
“You can grow it back with your magic, Joclyn,” Ilyan chuckled deeply at me, causing a furious blush to deepen against my cheeks.
“What?”
“Didn’t Wyn tell you?”
“No!” My mouth hung open in
frustration.
Ilyan only continued to smile, “No wonder you looked so depressed when I saw you last night.”
Truthfully, I hadn’t been depressed because of my hair; I had been more concerned about his wicked father, but I wasn’t going to get into that right before we left to rescue Ilyan’s youngest brother. I shook my head and slammed my bare back against the cold metal chair. I tried to shift my clothes again, but there simply wasn’t enough fabric.
“So… are you going to tell me what this attack plan is?”
He sighed before nodding once and angled his chair so we could both see the group that was still shuffling around the conference room.
“Wyn, Talon, Evert, and Glenna will be clearing the roof. Ovailia, Ferne and Nyse will be clearing the upper hallways. Adyl, Benton and Eber will already be stationed at the party. Delia, Iolo, Jevon and Evadne will be clearing the exterior, and Tace and Zilla will be our forward guard. You will be with me.” He pointed each of them out as he spoke; my mind unable to connect faces with their unusual names.
“And what do we do?”
“Rescue Ryland,” he stated quietly. “I need you to get him to leave with you. We will all serve as some form of a distraction and guard while you get him out. Once you leave, we all leave. The longer you wait, the more dangerous this mission is for everyone.”
“Get him out, sounds easy enough,” I sighed sarcastically, thinking my task sounded anything but easy. Getting him to follow me out would be easy, as long as he was Ryland. If he wasn’t Ryland, I wasn’t sure what he would do. He had attacked me in the Tȍuha when he had changed. And if he did attack me, I was not sure I was powerful enough yet to fight him off. And worse yet, what if I got him out as Ryland, and he changed once we left. I sighed and sank into my chair a bit, feeling completely useless.
Kiss Of Fire (Imdalind Series) Page 28