Victor (The Eden East Novels Book 2)

by Sacha Black

“What’s going on?” I say, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

  “There’s been a development,” Arden says, leaning forward and lowering his voice.

  “What kind of development?” Trey asks.

  “One that if it comes to fruition, will have consequences,” Arden, says his jaw tightening. Kato, Bo, Trey, and I exchange worried looks.

  Hermia shuffles forward, and Arden nods to her. “Before the First Fallon banished her sister to Obex, it didn’t exist,” she says.

  “I didn’t know that,” I say to both of them. “When we were in Obex, the Last Fallon said that her sister had banished her and that the Imbalance we’re all sending to Obex is slowly killing her, and everything in it, but she never mentioned that Obex was created specifically for her.”

  Hermia rubs her hands over her face as if trying to rid herself of her stupor, “Well, it was.”

  When she doesn’t elaborate, I turn to Arden. “When both the First and Last Fallon lived here, in Trutinor, Balance and Imbalance co-existed in a perfect equilibrium. Obex is… Or, I should say, was a part of Trutinor.”

  “Like its Balancer?” Trey asks.

  “Exactly,” Arden replies. “But in her quest for a Balanced utopia, the First Fallon tore Trutinor apart to separate Balance and Imbalance.”

  “So what’s the development?” Bo asks, chipping in.

  “The other night, the Door of Fates starting vibrating, and the threads in the frame started pulsing,” Arden says.

  “I know I saw the First Fallon examining the door before our induction,” I say, my fingers brushing against my arm as I remember the pain from the First Fallon’s grip.

  “I thought the history behind the door was all just a myth,” Bo says, frowning.

  “Wrong,” Hermia says, pulling out her CogTracker and tapping some buttons. When nothing happens, she glares at it but continues talking anyway, “And until this evening I’ve been struggling to work out what Victor was up to. I was trying to correlate the dark spots. But they’re so sporadic. Castles, ancient ruins, open fields, coastal positions,” she wallops her CogTracker when it refuses to display her findings.

  “Piece of Elf shit,” she growls.

  Kato picks it up and strokes it. “You have to woo it,” he says, “like a lady.” Within seconds, he’s got the tracker projecting a map of her findings. Then lines appear connecting the locations, followed by a table of data.

  “How’d you do that?” Hermia says. “I haven’t ever managed to get the mapping program to do that.”

  “I told you, seduce it.”

  She raises an orange eyebrow at him, “If you can put the ego aside, we should talk. We could work well together.”

  “Can we get back to the point?” Bo says, taking the Tracker from Kato and putting it on the coffee table in front of all of us.

  “As I was saying,” Hermia says, narrowing her eyes at Bo, “until this evening I thought his movements were meaningless.”

  “But they’re not?” Trey asks, leaning in to look at the map.

  “No, they are,” Arden says.

  “I don’t get it,” I say.

  “Hang on, how are Victor’s random movements connected to the door?” Bo asks.

  Kato’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, Beatrice Dark, you’re brilliant,” Kato says, grabbing her cheeks and kissing her. “That’s why his movements have been so sporadic. He must be looking for a key or something to open it.”

  “That’s exactly what he’s doing,” Hermia says, her eyes glittering at Kato in a way that can only mean she’s scheming.

  “A key for the door?” I say, frowning. “But there’s no lock.”

  “Correct,” Arden says, “he’s looking for the lock too.”

  “Okay,” I say, an uncomfortable gnaw forming in my gut, “say he finds this magical lock and key, what’s on the other side of the door? Where does it lead to?”

  “It’s not where it leads that’s the problem,” Hermia says. “It’s what it lets out that’s the issue.”

  My blood turns icy as I recall Victor’s face on the CogTV in our room, the threat of Rozalyn’s return.

  I swallow hard, then look at the group, “The Last Fallon…? Victor’s found a way to bring her back.”

  Fourteen

  The four soul categories:

  * * *

  Lost Soul – categorized as demon – A soul that died from Alteritus, or failed to be Bound before death.

  * * *

  Obex Soul – Obex inhabitant – A soul waiting for its Balancer in order to pass onto the next life.

  * * *

  Absent Soul – A soul that has passed into the next life without its Balancer.

  * * *

  Deceased Soul – A soul that has been destroyed.

  The Dictionary of Balance

  “We think so,” Arden says.

  “What I’ve gathered from working with Cecilia, sorry, the First Fallon,” Hermia starts, “is that the door was used to seal the barrier. Think of the barrier between our worlds as a scar. I guess the door was the plaster that stopped Trutinor bleeding.”

  A silence falls over us, and my mind drifts to my dreams. The fractured images of a broken Trutinor - I’ve seen it bleed enough, I don’t want to see it in real life.

  “Before I set out for Stratera, I had a quick strategy meeting with the Libras that hadn’t already left the safe house. We’re convinced, given what Victor announced on CogTV, that the Last Fallon is trying to rip open the barrier between our worlds. She wants to reunite Trutinor and Obex so she can start the prophesied war.”

  Trey and I simultaneously lean back in our chairs. The prophecy says that a fated pair who Inherit power, will unite with the Last Fallon and destroy the First Fallon.

  “War aside,” I say, when I’ve regained composure, “is reuniting Trutinor with Obex such a bad thing? If our worlds are meant to be joined, then what’s the problem with reuniting them?”

  Arden shakes his head, “Were. They were meant to be joined. But like any anomaly, once it occurs, it changes everything. Look at what’s happened to Victor. Just before I left Luna City, I spoke to a couple of senior Guild Sorcerers in the Libra Legion. They think the barrier really is a sort of scar in the fabric of the universe. And if you cut open scar tissue, it doesn’t tend to heal well; the scars get bigger, and more damage is done.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  Bo puts her head in her hands and mumbles from somewhere behind them, “So we need to find the lock and key and stop Victor opening the door?”

  “Essentially,” Hermia says.

  “Sounds like there’s a but,” Kato says, picking up Hermia’s CogTracker and scrunching his face up as he taps at the keyboard.

  “There is,” Hermia says, then adds, “why isn’t there a bar in here?”

  “Because it’s a library,” I say, shaking my head at her. “Stay on point. What’s the but?”

  She glowers at me but answers anyway, “We don’t know what the lock and key look like, let alone where they are.”

  “Can’t we just ask the First Fallon what she did with them?” Kato asks.

  Arden and Hermia both give each other a sideways glance as a heavy silence falls over us. One by one, we all turn to Trey.

  “Oh,” he says, breaking the silence, his face crumpling, “because of all the memory wiping I’ve done on her, she can’t remember what she did with them?”

  “And that’s the ‘essentially,’” Hermia says.

  After Trey Inherited, the First Fallon experimented on him testing the limits of his Imbalance. She refused to let him see me, but he managed to sneak out on several occasions anyway. When he returned, she was furious. The first time he wiped her memory it was an accident, but then he learned to control the ability, and he used it to see me more often. Wiping her short-term memory so frequently didn’t help her sanity or, apparently, her long-term memory.

  “Okay, so what’s plan B?” I say.

  “Research,” Bo says
. “We scour the library for anything we can find on a magical lock and key. Records, rumors, historic texts, anything.”

  “Good idea,” Kato says, “I’ll go back to the East with you, Hermia. I think I’ve got an idea on how we can triangulate the Imbalance spots, and you’ll have all the tracking hardware in your shop. I reckon I can reprogram our trackers as locators. And I’m hoping you’ll have some kit I can use to pin down the source of Victor’s network hack.”

  Hermia whistles, her eyes popping out of her skull, “Yeah, me and you are definitely having that chat, Kato. We could make mega bucks together.”

  “I’ll go back to the Guild to see if they have anything that can help,” Arden says.

  “Okay,” I say, “that leaves me, Bo, and Trey to hit the books.”

  “I’ll have a hunt through the records section and the old CogNews to see if there was anything discovered or reported,” Trey says.

  “I’ll look in the history section,” Bo suggests.

  “That leaves me with Imbalanced magic,” I say.

  Arden, Kato, and Hermia say goodbye and leave the library, and Bo, Trey, and I all split up.

  The library is cut in two by the central walkway. The older, ancient texts are on the left, and nestled behind them in the back are the Imbalanced and dark magic books. On the right are the newer more modern books, research texts, and the records section. Bo and Trey head right, and I turn left.

  I wander deeper through the rows of leather and dust. Each rack stretches high above me; I’d need a ladder to reach the highest shelves. On the ends of some of the shelves hang bags of cotton gloves for the oldest and most delicate texts. There’s a thick musty scent in the air, and I can’t decide if I love it, or if the tickle it’s creating in my throat is annoying.

  I skim my fingers down the spines of a row of brown leather books; it disturbs a layer of dust that fills the air and makes me sneeze. I spot a copy of Trutinor State Defense – the history of civil war, tactics, and Fallon reign, the text Arna said I’d need to read so I pull it out.

  As I slip the book under my arm, my head snaps up; gooseflesh runs down my back. My element senses kick in. The air is moving, wrinkled with the movement of a body, yet there’s no one in my aisle. I glance behind me: nothing. The air slows, and settles, but still there’s no one around. I try to shrug the uneasy feeling away and continue heading toward the dark magic section.

  As I meander further into the library, the light fades, the fire lanterns dimming as if a draft is blowing through the library. I reach the next break in the shelving and stop. Again. I look left and right up the aisle, but there’s no movement and no one nearby.

  The air grows cold, cold enough that the lantern hanging nearest me dies. My heart thuds in my chest as I skirt the area looking for the source of wind. It’s just a draft, Eden. Stop being pathetic. But even as I think it, I know there’s no draft because I can’t feel any wind in the air, and my powers are uncomfortably silent. Get a grip. I steel myself, stand tall, and step into the break between the shelves. The dark and Imbalanced magic books section is right in front of me.

  I’ll start here, I think, as a hand slips over my mouth making me stiffen. I figure it must be Trey playing a stupid joke on me and force myself to relax so I can kick his ass for frightening me. But the hand shifts position and my spine tingles. It’s not a hand, it’s a paw, and it’s half covered in fur.

  I spin around. Knocking the paw away, I stumble into the dark magic section and face the boy I’ve already killed once, “Victor.”

  My hands immediately ignite with electricity. I take a defensive stance, hands raised, ready to finish the job I started.

  “Eden,” he says, that peculiar maroon vein pulsing down his face. “I meant it when I said I’m not here to hurt you.”

  I shift from foot to foot, wondering if I should scream or wrap a bolt of electricity around his throat. But for some reason, I don’t do either of those things. I stay still.

  Realizing I’m not going to scream, his shoulders relax. I scan him up and down; this time, he’s wearing leather trousers with some kind of extensive belt with loops and pockets filled with magical items hanging off it. His top is maroon and covered by a leather jacket. He looks surprisingly good for a dead guy. As he leans against the book shelf, I can see just how fitted his outfit is. His trousers and jacket are snug to his tall, no longer slender, body. He seems to have put on some muscle since he died. Is that even possible?

  I roll a small flame around my palm and then flick it over to the lantern that snuffed out. When the flame flares back to life, Victor’s face is tight. I frown. As much as I hate him, I’ve known him long enough to know when something’s wrong.

  “I know why you’re here. What you’re looking for. And I’m not going to let you take it.”

  He grins, the light from the flames glowing in his eyes. “Took you long enough,” he says.

  “Do you really think we’re going to let you cut a hole in the universe? You’ll destroy everything.”

  “Rozalyn disagrees.”

  “You’re on first name terms now… Wow, Victor, you’re moving up in the world.”

  He ignores my comment, “She believes this path is the right one for Trutinor, Obex, and for Earth.”

  “And what if it isn’t? What if all it’s going to do is destroy all our worlds?”

  He sighs, “You’re going to have to pick a side, Eden. One way or another, you’re either on the First Fallon’s side, or you’re on Rozalyn’s. And we both know whose side the prophecy says you’re on. So why don’t you stop delaying the inevitable and get out of my way so I can get what I came for.”

  “What did you come for?”

  “Unicorn droppings and candy corn. We’re in a library, idiot. What do you think I’m here for?”

  I grit my teeth to stop myself from burning his eyeballs out. The longer I keep him here, the more chance I have of getting information from him.

  “So you’re a minion now?” I say, in the most patronizing way I can.

  “I prefer messenger,” he says, rubbing his face. He scans the shelves, then his fingers tap the vein pulsing on his temple, and he pulls his ear.

  If that’s his lame attempt at a coded message, I’m not buying it.

  “Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ve had enough. I’m taking you into custody. You can’t gatecrash my coronation and waltz around Trutinor creating Imbalances. You’re supposed to be dead. And right now, there is no war. Which means there’s no side to pick, and honestly, my coursework is more pressing.”

  “You know you’re not taking me into custody,” he says, his eyes narrowing into slits.

  “Fine. Then let’s stop this slow dance and tell me what you want from me because you didn’t appear in the library right behind me by accident.”

  His face softens, but his eyes stay pinched as if he’s pleading with me. He rolls out his non-pawed palm. Scribbled in wonky handwriting are the words ‘DON’T PANIC and TRUST ME.’

  Huh…? He grabs my hand and touches it to his temple. The vein is cold and wet under my palm.

  Throbbing through it, with every beat of his heart, I sense the darkness, the void that always signals Imbalance. It nudges against my essence, calling to the vault buried in my mind like it’s a long- lost sibling. Her face, the Last Fallon’s, flashes through my mind. Then the library dissolves into darkness.

  Fifteen

  ‘We all fear something, even the powerful who hide it like a shameful secret. But the powerful are foolish, for they only fear things more powerful than them. The truth is, there is only one thing we should fear: the heart. When whole, it harbors enough power to give life where it was taken, destroy life that shouldn’t be, create new worlds and sentience, or tears the walls of all our universes down. Fear the heart and fear the Keeper that controls it.’

  Excerpt – The Lost Scriptures

  “What the hell have you done to me, Victor?”

  “I haven’t done
anything. Shut up and listen, I can’t hold her off for long. I need to tell you what’s going on.”

  I’m surrounded by a darkness so thick I can almost touch it. I try and move, but my body doesn’t respond. My hand rises to touch my cheek but that, too, doesn’t work. There is no cheek, no hand, no body, nothing. Yet I can feel my heart hammering against my ribs. A cold prickle slithers down my back.

  “I told you to trust me. Please don’t panic because if you do, you’ll jump out, and we won’t be able to have this conversation.”

  “Jump out? Of what? Where am I?”

  “Are you going to shut your fucking mouth so I can explain?”

  That, at least, makes me laugh. He might be dead, but he’s still a total prick. My heart slows enough for me to control my breathing and to shoot, what I think, is a disembodied glare through the darkness.

  “I don’t even need to see you to know the expression you’re pulling.” He sniffs. “I…” his tone breaks; his voice echoes, as if he’s not in front of me but around me.

  “Am I in your head?”

  “Yes,” there’s a cough and a shuffle somewhere in the blinding darkness.

  “The vein,” he continues, “is linked to the Heart of Obex. It’s what the Last Fallon is using to keep me alive here and to control my every move. She’s manipulating everything I say and everywhere I go. I’m just a puppet.”

  The Heart of Obex? That must be the other half of the heart the Sirens guard. It’s in Obex? “So that’s why you couldn’t tell me what you wanted out loud?”

  “Finally, she catches on.”

  “Do you want me to play nice?” I snap. “How am I inside your head?”

  “Dead-guy trick. Picked it up in Obex. Tantamount to a minor haunting, mixed with a little essence manipulation. You’ll feel super queasy after and probably pass out for a couple of hours.”

  “Thanks for the warning. Okay, get to the point, it stinks of dog in here. What do you want from me?”