“I don’t understand what that means,” I said with a slight shake of my head.
“The legacy consists of children born from the direct line of the monarchy.” When I continued to look confused, she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Okay, take Arcarius as an example. He is a direct descendent of Quain. Our mother was Quain’s wife and thus he was not born from a child of a Sire, but is a direct heir of the Sire himself.”
“Whoa!” I grabbed her without thinking. “Wait. If he’s your brother, then would that mean that Quain is your father?”
Her eyes continued to twinkle with laughter despite her very kind attempts not to laugh at my slow uptake.
“You would be correct.”
“Wow…” I pressed fingers into my throbbing temples. “I don’t even know where to go with this. I feel like I should offer you my sympathies or something.”
She raised a brow. “I suppose this would not be the time to inform you that Arcarius also has a twin…”
I clutched at my chest dramatically. “I think I need to sit down.”
Chuckling, she slipped her arm through mine and started down to the foyer. “Isleen, I assure you, is nothing like Arcarius.”
“So tell me about Quain. Yeah, what’s the deal with him? Why is he such a jerk?”
Celia smiled. “Quain is not the easiest of men to come up against, but he is honorable and your father’s dearest friend.”
I snorted. “You know, I’m beginning to question my father’s taste in friends.”
We hit the bottom landing and turned towards the doorway to the right. Celia’s heels clicked in an almost soothing pattern along the marble as we headed towards the dining hall.
“Your father’s greatest sin has always been his drive to see progress.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” It was a joke, until she looked at me, her eyes eerily dark.
“Isn’t it?”
We said nothing for a moment as she showed me the dining area, even though I had already seen it, at least six different parlors, a smaller library and a lounge room, which looked suspiciously like a parlor, but I didn’t say so.
“Celia? What’s the passing?” I asked as we strolled down a long, sun bathed courtyard to another section of the castle.
She glanced at me. “Superstitious nonsense.”
“But what is it? Quain mentioned it earlier in the library. It seemed like a big deal.”
She huffed, sweeping back invisible strands of hair off her brow with a dismissive flick of her fingers. “There is this ridiculous notion that every hundred years, our kind will be given a pass of sorts to a new world order. Those from the old region continue to believe that such a thing is possible, my father and Acheron included. Such nonsense. Believe me, more than a few hundred years have passed and I have yet to see a single change in events.”
“That does sound kind of stupid. But what does any of that have to do with me?”
“It shouldn’t.”
Shouldn’t. Not doesn’t.
“But the way Quain was making it sound, I had a lot to do with it. In fact, he made a point of saying—”
“Don’t listen to them, Fallon.” Celia looked at me, her annoyance a bright glint in her eyes. “The whole matter is ludicrous. My father and Acheron should both be eternally ashamed for behaving like such morons.”
She didn’t say anything else. We continued our journey in near silence, broken only by her pointing something out.
“Did you know your father wanted to bring you home the night your mother died?” she said seemingly out of the blue at one point. “He was already at the main gates, ready to march into the mortal world.”
I glanced sideways at her. “Why didn’t he? If I ever needed him, it was at that moment.”
She took me into a patio area overlooking the garden I could see from my terrace. It was more breathtaking up close, but I wasn’t given the chance to fully enjoy it, not with the train of conversation Celia had propelled us onto.
“It is so much more complicated than that,” she said with a touch of remorse in her tone. “Your world is a cesspool—”
“Hey!”
She ignored my outraged protest. “Of everything horribly wrong. It is the feeding ground for creatures you never want to see, not even in your worst nightmares. Unlike us, they have free rein to roam where they wish and are not bound by laws forbidding them from terrorizing mortals. But they are weak. Pathetic. To them, we are gods. They would not exist were it not for us. Because of that, they need us. They crave our essence.” Her nostrils flared and she looked scary as all hell. “Your father is the ruler of our region. For him to waltz into your world is suicide. His power calls to them and should they ever get their hands on him, Luxuria would cease to exist because all our powers and the powers that course through this region, are locked with him. Your father tends to forget this small fact when it comes to you. But I need you to remember.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because you are now marked.” She reached over and took a strand of hair off my shoulder. She tucked it neatly behind my ear. “You have been in our world and it has already begun to melt into your skin and fill your blood.” She dropped her hand away. “For every minute you spend here, the less your humanity will survive. It is why humans cannot live with us. They are not structured to exist on our plane. Eventually they will waste away and die. But you, you possess Acheron’s blood. It flows within you, protecting you, giving you strength. But it is also cursing you.”
I swallowed audibly. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes flashed and glittered, dark and frightening. “If you return, there will be nothing keeping you protected from seeing what your world is truly like. That veil over your mental eye—your human eye—has lifted and as you see them, they will see you. They will sense you. You may not be a Sire and may not possess the level of power Acheron does, but you are an heir and power is power.”
I’m not creeped out, I willed myself to believe. But who was I kidding? I was so creeped out. There was no way I wasn’t going to have nightmares.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Her expression softened. “Not to frighten you. You need to know, Fallon. You need to know so you can be safe.”
She told me no more as she led me back through the catacombs to Isaiah’s room. She touched my shoulder as we stood outside his door, looked into my face and said, “Welcome home, Fallon.” Then, with a gentle squeeze, she left.
Isaiah was sitting at the window seat, a book open in his hand when I pushed open his door and slipped inside. My brows drew together.
“I told you to lock the door!”
He snapped the book closed, tossed it onto the cushioned seat and rose to his feet. “Why does that sound familiar?”
I frowned at his teasing, remembering when we’d first met and he’d told me the exact same thing.
“That was different.”
He just grinned at me. “How was your talk?”
My arms crossed of their own accord. “Bizarre.”
“What happened?”
I told him about my conversation with Celia while I paced the length of his room. It wasn’t quite as light and airy as mine. His furniture was dark and sturdy, kind of like him, and he didn’t have a terrace, which I thought was sad. It was also a whole lot smaller than mine. Two of his could fit into one of mine. I felt a little bummed for him.
“Then she just touches my shoulder and says, welcome home, Fallon. Like I’m supposed to feel all warm and cozy after the horror story she just finished telling me.”
“She wasn’t trying to scare you,” he said reasonably. “She was trying to help warn you.”
“That what? The boogieman exists? News flash, I know! I didn’t need a reminder. Ugh!” My face took a violent scrubbing from my hands. “It was fine up until that moment.” I let my hands drop and faced him. “When did you meet her?”
He sighed and folded his arms over his chest. “Aft
er you and your mom left, Ashton moved us to this two bedroom apartment over a gym. For the first few years, your dad insisted I return home for at least six months out of the year to train, even though I was already programmed with all the necessary hunting, tracking and combat skills. He would teach me my ABCs while he kicked my ass at hand to hand. I learned history while throwing knives at a dummy. He was merciless. Thirteen, fifteen, twenty hours every day for six months…” He blew out a harsh breath. “He held back no punches, took no short cuts, it was train and study until I thought I would lose my mind. But I knew why he was doing it. It was to protect you, so I never complained. I trained until it hurt and I studied until my eyes bled. If it wasn’t for Celia, I would get no break. She was always there to wrap my injuries, to make sure I ate and slept, although I never had the heart to tell her I didn’t do either.”
“And all that time, you never clued in that they were married?”
A faint sort of blush crept into his cheeks and he turned towards the window. He picked up the book he’d been reading. “Well, it wasn’t like Celia lived in the house. She would drop in every so often to see how things were going and then leave. I mean, not even Ashton ever stayed with me. He would beat my ass, tell me to do better tomorrow and leave.”
“And you never asked where he was going, or why?”
He shook his head. “No. I was only there to train. Plus, it wasn’t so unusual. He was rarely home when he was with your mom either. He was always getting called in to work.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean since he was a doctor and all.”
Isaiah looked down and I felt bad.
“I never had a reason to question him,” he said slowly. “I always suspected something was going on between him and Celia, but never that they were married.”
“Just living in sin,” I finished.
He shrugged. “They were adults. I was still just a kid. I didn’t think it was my business to ask.”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t stay with you, or my mom.” I made my way to his bed and flopped down on it. “Since he can’t be the mortal world for very long, it would make sense that he would always leave to return here. Then he’d come back and pretend everything was great. It also makes sense why he would tell my mom he was a doctor. It’s the one profession that requires twenty four hour attention. I’m just surprised my mom never, I dunno, checked him out.”
Isaiah shrugged … again. “Maybe she did and he did check out. Ashton is very clever. He always has a plan for everything. I mean, they were married for five years. I’m sure he’d done something to convince her he was who she thought he was.”
“So he’s good at lying,” I muttered. “Not sure I like trusting our lives to someone who can lie so convincingly to someone he supposedly cares about for that long.”
“He had his reasons.”
I squinted at him, disgusted. “There is no reason to lie to someone you love.”
“He was trying to protect her, and you.”
“Then he should have stayed out of her life.” I glared hard at the ceiling. “She would be alive right now if he had.”
“But you wouldn’t be.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. I dragged his pillow under my head and closed my eyes.
“When do you think this telepathic link will upgrade?” I asked at last. “When do I get to waltz through your thoughts?”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t given a schedule.”
I sighed and opened my eyes. I met his across the room. “It would be nice for a change.”
“Worried I might be lying to you?” He said it with a smile, but his eyes were serious.
I didn’t so much as blink. “Yes.”
He walked over to the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight.
“I haven’t,” he murmured. “And I won’t. You don’t need a telepathic link to know what I’m thinking. You only need to ask.”
I bit my lip. “What are you thinking, Isaiah?”
His lips curved in the smallest of smiles. “That I miss my motorcycle.”
I laughed.
His grin broadened. “So what’s the plan … Boss?” he teased, using my own words back at me.
I kicked his hip lightly with my foot. “We stay and play nice. I’m going to talk to Ashton, see what he hasn’t told us and see about moving us somewhere between here and topside. There were like a billion doors in that place that got us here. I’m sure we can find somewhere else to go.”
“Because you think I’ll just drop dead if I stay here.”
I shrugged and closed my eyes. “That’s what Celia said happened to humans, which you are. It’s obvious you can’t stay here and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Tendrils of hair were swept off my neck, cheek and shoulder. The same hands rubbed down my arm and I sighed, snuggling deeper into the pillow.
“You know what we should have done?” I murmured.
Blunt fingers with rough tips smoothed along the back of my hand to trace each knuckle. “Gone to Mexico?”
I snickered. “We should have gone back to the cabin.”
I heard the smile in his voice even as I felt the warm pressure of sleep blanketing me. “You hated the cabin.”
I yawned. “Yes, but I had you to myself, well, until Garrison decided to drop in.”
The last thing I heard before I dropped out of reality into dream world was, “You will always have me.”
I awoke with a scream lodged in my throat and my clothes plastered to my clammy skin. Blankets that had been tucked almost protectively around me were torn off as I scrambled free of their suffocating embrace to clutch my abdomen as the demon attempted to claw its way out. I gasped, doubling over, trying desperately to formulate words, but only managing squeaks of pain. The darkness pushed with an almost physical force against me as I tumbled out of bed and landed on my knees.
“Isaiah!” I tried to breathe through the agonizing pain.
I was dying. There was no other explanation for it. Where was the door? In the dark, the world was upside down and backwards and I was too blinded by tears to think straight. The headache that had been a minor irritation at the back of my skull was now a full blown war. I wanted to crawl under the bed. I wanted to scale the walls. I wanted to bang my head against concrete. Anything to make it stop. When it began to recede with the slow progression of molasses, I took the opening. Grabbing the mattress, I hauled myself to my unsteady feet and shuffled my way in the direction I was almost sure held my escape.
“Isaiah!” I called, breathing raspy.
There was no response and my own pain was drowned by the possibility that something had happened to him. Had someone taken him while I was sleeping? Where would he have gone and why hadn’t he awakened me?
Fingers finding the cool brass of the doorknob, I threw myself into the corridor, squinting as I was blinded by the sudden burst of light. It took several minutes of crawling through memories and pushing aside the voices raging at me with questions I couldn’t answer before I found my bearings. The two corridors housing our rooms linked at the corner where it veered left and joined mine. Isaiah’s was tucked towards the back while mine was closer to the stairs. I knew that if I could find the main foyer, I could easily retrace my steps if I needed to. What I wasn’t sure of was why Isaiah would go to my room when I was already in his. It didn’t make sense. But I had to start somewhere.
Apprehension kept at bay the gnawing beast demanding sustenance. My drive to find Isaiah overruled all other needs.
I reached my room and threw open the door, letting it swing wide and strike the walls. A figure sitting on the beige settee in front of the fireplace jumped, as did my heart in a momentarily lapse of relief only for it to die a young death when I realized it wasn’t Isaiah.
“What are you doing in my room?” I charged the distance to confront the small, pale figure practically drowning in a sea of fabric.
“I … I…” Delphi blinked her enormou
s blue eyes like a broken china doll.
“Answer me!” I snarled, stopping when I was in danger of walking straight into her. “Why are you here? Where’s Isaiah?”
Delphi hurried to her feet, tripping and stumbling on a basket of threads and needles. Spools rolled in all directions as the basket capsized.
“Oh no!” Forgetting about me, she swooped down to scoop the colorful reels of thread back into their confines.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” I moved to stand in her way.
“Mistress sent me to fashion you a new wardrobe,” she said, sounding both frightened and agitated.
“No kidding.” I stepped aside to let her gather her things off the floor. “I bet you jumped right on the chance to lock me in a zombie infested closet again.”
Thin, pale eyebrows knitted between puzzled eyes. “I don’t understand the question.”
“That wasn’t a question. That was a comment. This is a question, what the hell?”
If anything, she looked even more terrified, like I’d just grown six heads, each one spewing acid.
“I don’t understand!” she cried.
I threw up my hands. “You locked me in the basement.”
Her blue eyes went enormous in horror. “I would never, miss!”
I started. “What … are you kidding? I was there.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, miss. I would never. I haven’t met you before tonight.”
I stared at her, long and hard until she fidgeted and looked away. “You’re cray-cray, aren’t you?”
Delphi systematically replaced all the threads into her basket, each color coordinated from lightest to darkest. She shut the lid, took hold of the handle and drew herself up, squaring her tiny shoulders and stiffening her spine.
“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re insinuating, miss. You’re welcome to request a second opinion if you believe my work isn’t up to par, but I assure you I am the best and you won’t find any better.” She angrily clutched her sewing basket to her abdomen and jutted out her pert chin. “If you’ll excuse me.”
I had no idea what she was so angry about. After all, wasn’t she the one who locked me up in a closet with monsters? If anything, I should have been the one outraged. But no. She was furiously gathering her things like I had offended her. Unbelievable.
Touching Fire (Touch Saga) Page 13