“What—”
“The guard,” Archer said, propelling Isaiah and me after Ashton. “Go!”
Having no desire to get caught by those things, I made no protest. I turned tail and moved as quickly as was possible after my father’s pale shirt as he moved with deft sped through the torch-lit shaft. I heard Isaiah and Archer behind me, their movements barely audible.
“What’s the guard?” I asked, catching up with Ashton.
“They protect the nexus,” he replied. “Every time it’s activated from this side, they must investigate and make sure no mortals is being taken through.”
“Mortals?”
“Human,” he corrected. “It’s forbidden by the Guild.”
“The Guild?”
“The government for our kind.” He veered right. I had to scramble to keep up.
“Those things that had Isaiah back on the street, were those guards, too?”
He shook his head. “Those were fledglings.”
“And those things that nearly froze me to death?” I asked.
“Sluaghs.”
For every one answer I received, there were about twenty more questions that only further convinced me I had dropped head first through the rabbit hole.
“What are those?”
He took an abrupt left and I wondered just how far underground we were going, if in fact we were underground and not wandering aimlessly through some inter dimensional time loop … thing. I saw it happen once on an episode if Sliders. It had been amusing then, not so much now.
“Sluaghs are the warped souls of those denied heaven or hell. They’re cursed to wander the human plane, waiting to stop other souls from crossing over. I think the death of those three by the café summoned them here. Otherwise, they shouldn’t have been able to sense me.”
“And the fledglings?”
“That’s a bit more complex to explain,” he replied with a grimace in his tone. “They’re basically the children of us and humans.”
Okay, that was different.
“You keep saying that,” I said, willing the tremor to keep out of my voice. “Humans and mortals like you’re not one.”
His head turned ever so slightly so he was peering at me from over his shoulder. His eyes glinted in the flickering fire light.
“Don’t fall behind.”
Sound advice when we reached a four-way split in the path. Ashton veered right, taking the very first trail deeper into the darkness. The torches placed strategically along the walls were few and far between, leaving larger patches of blackness between each interval. But the walk was fairly straight with only minor potholes. I was the only one stumbling, I noted with growing agitation.
Then it got really weird.
The walls, jagged and sparkling with a spray of glitter, smoothed and grew lighter until we were walking through a narrow corridor of rough granite. The floor evened out, matching the square slabs making the walls.
Then there were the doors; glass doors, iron doors, steel doors, and wood doors. There were even archways and manholes. They were erected into the walls, built into the ceiling and cut into the floors. Some were even standing completely on their own in the middle of the path. Yet, that wasn’t the oddest thing.
Each door, and there were thousands, had a set of keys stabbed into the keyholes. Some were skeleton keys, others were car keys, house keys and even a set of toy keys.
I made to stop and peek into a set of French doors that seemed to look into a bedroom.
My arm was grabbed.
“Never stop,” Ashton warned, pulling me after him.
“What’s behind those doors?” I asked, hurrying to catch up.
“Some of them? Nothing.”
“And the others?”
Ashton averted his gaze. “You don’t want to know.”
My stomach did that weird queasy thing that I was beginning to recognize as dread. I shot an uncertain glance over my shoulder and caught Isaiah’s gaze. He said nothing, but I was relieved to see my confusion and uncertainty reflecting on his face.
Rubbing my bloodstained and sweaty hands on the skirt of my ruined dress, I turned back to Ashton.
“Where are we?” I asked, peering anxiously at the wall of doors surrounding us, barricading us in from all directions.
“We’re taking the backdoor to Luxuria,” was his response, like that meant a damn thing to me.
“Is that a place still on earth?” I countered, not bothering to conceal my annoyance.
“It is and it isn’t.” He glanced to the right, at a scarred and chipped door, but continued on without pausing in his long strides. “This realm exists in the folds of the mortal world, concealed, but not really.”
Way to clarify things.
“Not much further now,” he went on.
I had already surmised that, because I was a freak of nature and because my father had gone out of his way to remove traits of himself from my DNA, that he may not be entirely normal, but not human? I hadn’t considered that. I wasn’t sure how to accept this new fun detail in my already ridiculously insane life. What surprised me most was that I had actually thought he would be normal. I felt like someone needed to smack me upside the head and shout duh! Of course he wasn’t normal. The guy knew and was friends and partners with Garrison, the most evil man on earth next to Dr. Josef Mengele. What sort of person willingly joined forces with a man who proclaimed himself a God? Who took pleasure in torturing little children? My father was part of that. He helped contribute to my pain and suffering in the last seventeen years. And yet, there I was, a stupid lamb walking happily to the slaughter.
“Fallon.” Isaiah’s fingers slipped down my bare arm to encircle my wrist. They were so warm against the coolness of my skin. My hand turned before I could stop it and reached for his.
“I’m okay,” I said back through our link.
His fingers threaded through mine and he gave them a comforting squeeze. That small, simple gesture washed over me like a hot shower after trudging through a wasteland of ice. It coursed through me and every bone, muscle and fiber thawed until I nearly moaned. I exhaled instead, a weak, shaky sound that seemed a whole lot louder in the winding catacomb.
At the sound, Ashton glanced over his shoulder. The light reflected off his eyes as they took in our hands. He looked away just as quickly.
“Here.”
He stopped before a beautiful stone archway woven with vines, small white flowers and draped with sheer lace. Patches of grass grew around the base, hugging a wide, dirt path. A breeze hit the lace and it smelled of honeysuckles, lavender and jasmine. It was interlaced with the scent of sunbaked soil, freshly cut grass and sunshine. It intensified when Ashton swept the drapes apart and ushered me through.
“Welcome home, Fallon.”
I’d had a dream once where I was standing in a meadow overlooking snow-capped mountains. It had been a bright, sunny day and the entire world smelled of the wildflowers swaying at my bare feet.
In the distance, a river cut a perfect, blue gash at the feet of the mountains. It gurgled and bubbled over flat rocks and glittered under the sun.
I’d been happy.
That was the one feeling I had recognized as I stood gazing over the miles of lush landscape bathed under flawless skies. Underneath it, there was a feeling of uncertainty, doubt and fear, like I didn’t deserve the feeling. That somehow that happiness was in some way tainted and I was a monster for allowing it to bloom.
Then, just as I was assuring myself I did, I looked down at the blood on my hands. It was still wet and warm as it dripped off the hem of my dress. The puddle beneath my feet widened, suffocating the meadow and killing everything it touched until I was left standing in a barren wasteland, surrounded by dead things and a scream that couldn’t seem to escape me.
I woke up choking on it, soaked in cold sweat and blinded by tears. Even the feel of Isaiah’s arms around me hadn’t been enough to lull me back to sleep that night.
The
meadow beyond the lace curtain hadn’t changed. It was still a landscape of rolling green hills, swaying flowers, towering mountain tops and a bubbling brook. And I was still covered in blood.
Chapter 4
“Where is this?”
I couldn’t seem to move. I stood rooted to the path, my heart a frightened rabbit in my chest with nowhere to hide. My insides coiled and I trembled all over.
“Fallon?” Isaiah tightened his grip on me. Maybe he was afraid I would pass out. He wouldn’t have been wrong. “What is it?”
I willed my unyielding body to turn, to face my father, who stood watching me from a few feet away, his expression a mangled wrinkle of confusion and concern.
“Where is this?” I asked again, my voice wavering.
“The outer fields of Luxuria.” He swept a hand behind him. “The doors are just over that hill.”
My head was thrumming. I wanted to cradle it in my hands, but I was too afraid to look away. “I dreamt of this place,” I said through gritted teeth.
Ashton’s brows furrowed. “Of this place?” He glanced around us. “That isn’t possible. You’ve never been here.”
“I’m telling you!” I quickly tried to calm my voice as it rose to that place just before hysterical. “I’ve seen this place in my dreams and it didn’t end very well.”
“It’s a field.” Archer moved from behind us to stand next to Ashton. “There are a billion just like it on earth. Can we please keep moving? All this fresh air makes me queasy. Plus, the guard can’t be that far behind us.” The last part was said to Ashton with an impatient glance.
“Archer’s right.” Ashton moved towards me. “We need to keep moving. I promise you we’ll discuss this once we’re safely beyond the wall.”
The wall was a twenty foot tower of stone the color of ripe peaches. It went on for miles, running alongside the barricade of trees and mountains encircling it. Enormous iron doors stood guard at the end of the trail. Gears, pipes and cogs ran across it in a series of locks. Ashton reached into his pocket and removed the ring containing the three keys, gold, silver and bronze. He flipped through them until he located the gold one. He inserted it into the tiny keyhole and twisted.
Steel bars dislodged with deafening pops as the gears whirred to life. Cylinder locks screamed a piercing shriek of metal on metal. The ground shuddered. A low grinding rumble sliced through the air with every violent quake. The seam connecting the two giant slabs of iron dislodged and pried apart, revealing a gap. It grew, widening until we stood at the threshold of a sprawling city on the threshold of dusk.
Unlike the bright afternoon in the meadow behind us, the city was nearing twilight. Night and day stopped just above the gates, as though an invisible wall had been erected, stopping day from spilling over into night.
Beneath the canopy of endless, starless black, buildings of stone, steel and iron cut through the dense fog. Their windows glittered beneath the flickering oil lamps that lined the streets. Light spilled across wet cobblestone and street gutters. It must have rained, because the air was perfumed with the clean scent of pine, even though there wasn’t a tree in sight.
From somewhere nearby, I could hear the faint whisper of a bubbling fountain. A dog barked in the distance. The familiar crackle and hum of night poured through every moment, a soft, familiar melody that instantly installed calm.
“How are you?” Isaiah murmured into the cavity of my mind.
I gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nice here,” I said. “I don’t feel afraid.” I turned my head to peer into his shadow kissed features. “How are you?” I asked out loud.
He looked away from me to study a shimmering halo of light around a nearby lamp. “It feels heavy, like there’s too much gravity.”
Bemused by his description, I tried to feel what he was feeling and continued to feel tranquility and, for the first time in years, peace. I turned back to him, my concern overriding my momentary serenity.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He smiled at me. “I’ll be fine.” Then, in my head, added, “Don’t worry so much.”
“But what about you?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s probably because this isn’t really my world. It makes sense that it would feel different for me. I’ll adjust. I promise.” He raised his head and scanned a quick glance around us.
It was only then that I noticed that Archer and Ashton were no longer with us. In my fascination of this new world, I hadn’t bothered to pay attention to them. But they stood a mere ten feet away, cloaked in fog and darkness, next to a magnificent coach, black and glossy with gold trim and giant gold wheels. It was an old fashioned sort of carriage. The kind lords and ladies once rode on their way to balls and tea parties. Yet it somehow fit a little too well with its surroundings.
What didn’t fit were the creatures tethered to the front.
At first glance, my heart stopped. I even gasped as I made a grab for Isaiah as though urging him to do something. I had no idea what I was looking at, or if what I was seeing was even possible. But no matter how hard I blinked and squinted, the image remained stubbornly real.
They were stunning, sleek and lithe like the carriage, with velvety black coats that shone beneath the lamplight … and the fire surrounding them.
Flames roared in the place of their manes. It spilled down their backs to their tails so embers sparked in all directions with every angry flick. Gold glinted from their hooves and along their bridle. One of them turned its head and pinned us with glowing crimson eyes behind blinders. It whinnied, tossing its massive head and flashing razor sharp fangs. Steam billowed from its nostrils, forming a cloud in the night air.
I wasn’t going near those things.
“They won’t hurt you,” Ashton assured me, giving the one closest to him a fond pat on the rump. Like it was totally normal to touch a demon horse.
“They’re on fire,” I said, deciding I should point it out just in case I was the only one aware of the situation and the possibility of burning to death in a fancy, black box.
“This is Thalious and Thanos.” He gave the horse another pat and was rewarded with a face full of steam. “They are some of the last Reysons left.”
I couldn’t help arching an eyebrow. “Did they all burn up or something?”
Chuckling, Ashton moved to the carriage and yanked open the door. “They are in very high demand.”
I couldn’t imagine why. I somehow doubted a regular home owner’s insurance policy covered burn by fire horse as a claim. Nevertheless, I shifted closer, taking great care to put as much distance between me and Bessy as possible.
Our bags were stuffed into a wooden box strapped to the back and I was helped up by Ashton. Part of me wished I was wearing a giant hooped skirt. Somehow it felt less dramatic climbing into the red velvet seats without one.
Isaiah took the seat next to me as Ashton claimed the bench across from us. Archer didn’t follow. He shut the door and I watched through the window as he climbed onto the bench over the horses. A sick, twisted part of me actually snickered at the thought of him catching on fire.
“So I guess you guys are all about the environment, huh?” I said. “No cars,” I added when Ashton glanced at me curiously.
Ashton smiled and turned his head to peer out the window as Archer gave a loud ha and sent the horses galloping. The carriage jerked, sending me violently forward before I was thrust back into my seat.
“You’ll get used to it,” Ashton assured.
Rather than respond, I shifted closer to the window and peered out at the shops, or at least tried to.
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
Without waiting for me to even pull back, Ashton reached over and yanked the blinds closed. He did the same to the other window until we were trapped in a thick darkness that completely blinded us.
“What—”
“Even with the fog, it’s not safe.”
There was a flare of warm, yellow ligh
t and a ball of fire burst to life … right in the center of Ashton’s palm.
I yelped and instinctively grabbed Isaiah’s wrist. The last people that could do that started throwing said fireballs. There was no way he would miss if that was his intention.
I heard a deep, mournful sigh. There was a quiet clatter of metal and the soft squeak of hinges then the flame was transferred from hand to a small, glass cylinder where it caught a sliver of gasoline soaked wick. Ashton closed the little glass door and fastened the lantern to the hook on the ceiling of the carriage. His somber gaze met mine, burdened with remorse.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I should have given you more warning.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I guess I’m not entirely used to all this … mutant stuff.”
Ashton’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully and his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. “Mutant stuff.” He paused a moment as he seemed to think about this. “Is that what you believe I am?”
I had to clear my throat before I spoke again. “Well, I’m not really sure. Maybe? I don’t really know what you are. I mean, I saw you tear Hogan, Noboru and Marcel to shreds with your hands. We just hiked through a bunch of doors that should only exist in the world of Alice in Wonderland and I could have been hallucinating, but you just made fire appear out of thin air. I’m kind of leaning towards really good magician.”
No idea what I was expecting, but I certainly had not anticipated the belly rolling rumble that echoed through the confined space as Ashton burst out laughing. It was a nice sound, deep and rich. The kind of laugh that held nothing back.
Touching Fire (Touch Saga) Page 5