“I didn’t see anyone,” Tyler said.
“Maybe Alexei and Violet could help us here?” Matt eyed them.
“How?” Debbie asked.
“I don’t know,” Matt went on. “How come both of them appear in New York on one day?”
“It’s Emily’s Prophecy,” Jason said.
“Prophecy? Oh, please. Not the Prophecy again.” Debbie rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Debbie,” Jason persisted. “Parts of it have already come true.”
“Okay, okay,” Matt said. “Let’s take Violet and Alexei. Who are they, according to the Prophecy?”
“They are two of the eleven souls that defended me. The Pillars of Light. They lived far from each other. They didn’t know me.”
“I still don’t buy it,” Debbie said. “The eleven souls were supposed to die for you to become the Beholder.”
Violet shifted uncomfortably in her seat while Alexei pursed his lips.
“Yes. And that’s the part I don’t get,” Jason retorted, “but there must be an explanation.”
Matt turned to Alexei. “Can you prove that you are not one of Pariah’s spies?”
“Pariah? Who’s Pariah?” Alexei’s forehead creased with lines. “If you mean one of the thugs that nearly killed me, then no, I don’t have any proof that I’m not one of his spies. Emily saved me and told me she would give me some of her powers if I helped her.”
“You couldn’t say no to that, could you?” Matt said wryly.
“I had no idea what I was agreeing to, all right?” Alexei lifted his hands.
“You got the Sight from Emily?” Tyler asked.
“The Sight?” Alexei raised an eyebrow.
“The supernatural abilities,” Tyler explained.
“Well, then yes, I did,” Alexei said.
“Is that even possible?” Jason asked, turning to Tyler.
Tyler’s lips curved down. “It is. Let’s say it’s like ripping your soul apart and giving one part to another person.”
“That sounds horrible,” Debbie said.
“It’s worse than it sounds.” Tyler bit his lower lip. “The pain she went through must have been excruciating. What ability did she give to you?”
“I can see the near future. Not more than thirty seconds. But then I realized I had another. I can sort of slow down and speed up time.”
“Jeez!” Jason hissed.
“They were Emily’s best abilities,” Tyler said. “Why would she just give them away?”
“Do you have any abilities, Violet?” Debbie asked.
Violet shook her head then lowered her eyes. “Not that I know of. I vaguely remember what happened to me.”
“Did Emily tell you anything when she came to you?” Tyler asked.
“Yeah, but it’s so fuzzy right now, like a dream. I think she said I needed to find Jason and stay beside him.”
Matt chuckled. “Interesting of you to say so. You see, you look so much like Emily I sometimes forget you’re not Emily.”
Matt’s words caused goosebumps to pop over Jason’s hands.
“I do?” Violet asked. “I don’t remember her, sorry.”
“Can you read her mind, Jay?” Matt asked.
“I kinda already did. There’s nothing there.”
Tyler sat straight in his seat, staring at Violet. “We should probably explain to you how the Legates found you in the crowd so easily. In the Sight we can see auras around people, and yours gave you away.”
“Auras? What do you mean?” Violet shrugged, shaking her head.
“Well, right now you have a great amount of powerful Energy floating around you. That was how Jason and the Darksighted spotted you. To the Dark Ones, it is like sulfuric acid to a person’s skin. They feel it and the only thing they want is to destroy it. By the way, you also have a mark on your left shoulder, imprinted on you by Emily.”
“What?” Violet tugged at her pullover to take a look at her shoulder. “Oh my God!”
“They usually mark victims this way,” Tyler added.
Violet’s face blanched; she gripped the armrests. “Why? This is crazy. I wake up in New York, and I have no idea how I got there. Someone wants to kill me, and then you tell me I have a mark.” Violet sank into her chair, cupping her face. Debbie patted her shoulder lightly.
“Please, calm down.” Tyler raised his hands. “All I’m saying is that for now you’ll be staying with us, and no one’s going to hurt you.”
“So what are we going to do next?” Alexei asked.
“I think we need to follow the bread crumbs,” Jason said.
Tyler frowned at him.
“I don’t know if Emily was trying to help us or not, but it’s so like her to leave bread crumbs for us to follow. Even after she’s gone.”
Tyler leaned back in his chair. “Do you mean there might be other defenders alive besides Alexei and Violet?” Tyler said.
“Exactly.” Jason nodded.
***
After everyone went to their rooms, Jason lay down on his bed, fully clothed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Violet. How could she survive after Damien had broken her neck? The pain had blinded him, ripping through his body.
The memory played before him as he stared at the ceiling. Her eyes. So similar to Emily’s. That rich chocolate color that turned to amber when she looked at the setting sun.
He took a deep breath. The resemblance between them didn’t end there. Even their postures—delicate and full of grace—were so much alike.
No longer able to hold his feelings back, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. The room lit with a multitude of lights, outlining everything and everyone inside. He peered into the next room through the wall and saw Tyler and Debbie, kissing, wrapped in a tight embrace.
No, thanks. That’s not what I’m looking for right now, he thought, smiling to himself.
He looked left and saw Matt’s outline. His friend was seated in an armchair, a glass with some liquid in his hand pressed to his forehead. Jason heaved a deep sigh, feeling sorry for Matt. It had been a while since they had hung out together, talked like best friends, but Jason knew that Matt was still in love with Debbie.
Making a tick in his head as a reminder to talk to him, Jason got up from the bed and left the room. In the Sight, the estate flared with brightness that helped Jason feel at home. He paced down the corridor, venturing a look into Tyler and Debbie’s room, and to his surprise, he found Debbie alone there, fast asleep. He stopped, probing the Sight in search of Tyler, and then found him in the hall, heading for the room with the boxes. The next moment he was gone.
Jason didn’t know what had just happened, but he didn’t like it. It was still hard for him to push Emily’s treachery from his thoughts. Did Tyler also have secrets of his own?
Jason walked softly past Matt’s room. As he reached the end of the corridor, he spotted a familiar aura, its light beckoning him, its tendrils swirling around, the silver so mesmerizing he had no chance against its charm. Violet was combing her hair in front of a mirror, her Energy reflecting and setting the room ablaze with light. His heart thudded faster in his chest. He swallowed hard. Damn you, Walker. What’s wrong with you? You barely know her. At first he considered turning around and walking away, but then he knocked at her door.
In the Sight he saw her turn her head. “Come in,” she said in a high-pitched sing-song voice.
He pushed open the door and found Violet sitting on a poof, just as he had envisioned her, the mark on her left shoulder catching his eye.
“May I come in?”
“Sure.” She tilted her head, and her neatly combed hair cascaded down her shoulders.
“Sorry for bothering you.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m busy or anything.”
He closed the door, paced across the room, and sat on the windowsill. “I was just wondering how you’re feeling. It must be tough for you to awaken in an entirely different world.”
Violet huffed,
her lips then curved in a forced smile. “I can’t believe all of this is happening to me. Like I got a part in a sci-fi movie.”
“Oh, I had that feeling when I had my first Fusion.”
“Fusion?”
“Sorry. I forget that you’re a newbie here.” In short, he told her about his dreams, the terrifying nightmares that haunted him—or Fusions, as Emily used to call them—that eventually led him to Emily and Tyler.
“Wait. So you are the Beholder, right?” She pressed an index finger to her lips, deep in thought. “I seem to remember that word from somewhere.”
He shrugged his shoulders. An awkward silence hung between them. “You know, when I touched your hand, I saw flashes of your past.” Jason scratched the back of his skull. “There’s family somewhere out there freaking out about you being missing, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, they’re in Sydney while I’m here.” Violet turned to the mirror. “Mom and Dad are going to kill me. They’re checking up on me every few hours. It’s been a whole day and I haven’t called them.”
“Wait.” Jason frowned. “A whole day? It’s been more than five months since Emily disappeared.”
Violet gawked at Jason. “You kidding?”
“It’s March now, so what do you think?”
Violet gasped. “Five months? I’ve been missing for that long? But … where have I been all this time?”
Jason shrugged. “There is only one person who can answer that question. Emily.”
***
Damien leapt out of the cool darkness and landed on cobbled pavement, rolling a few times to break his fall, bumping his knee along the way. He felt exhausted after a long day, and the landing wasn’t as soft as he was hoping for.
“Oh my goodness, Damien!” someone yelped nearby, and his body tensed. “You’ve just appeared out of thin air, haven’t you!”
Damien raised his eyes to see a petite old lady, Mrs. Atkinson, his eighty-seven-year-old neighbor, who bent to study him through her dark-rimmed glasses. She clutched an umbrella in one hand, a bag slung over her shoulder. It was pouring with rain; thick raindrops drummed against the fabric of the umbrella, dripping onto Damien’s face.
“Sorry, Mrs. Atkinson, I didn’t see you. And I didn’t mean to scare you.” He scrambled to his feet.
“Why,” she knotted her eyebrows, “I’m sure one moment you weren’t there, and then, it’s as if you—”
“Tripped and you didn’t see me in the dark,” Damien finished for her.
“No, no. It wasn’t like that.”
“All right.” Damien sighed. “I didn’t want to do this, but now I must.”
He yanked at Mrs. Atkinson’s hand, the one that clutched the umbrella, and the old lady startled, staring at him without blinking.
“You didn’t see me appear out of thin air,” he told her in a calm voice. “You will not remember seeing me here at all. Go home and have a nice evening.”
Mrs. Atkinson kept staring at Damien, stupefied. He let go of her hand, turned around, and walked away.
She’s going to be all right, he thought, climbing up the stairs to his apartment. Damn it, I need to be more careful next time.
He reached the third floor, then pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He entered the apartment and turned on the lights, then exited the Sight.
Home sweet home, he thought sadly.
It was the only place where he could stay away from the Sighted world. A small apartment in London. Like many Sighted people, he lived in a humble place with no luxury furniture. The Sight gave him much more than the temp amenities that sooner or later would turn to nothingness.
Though he was not a fan of the Unsighted way of life, the cooking, the washing up and so on, that evening he needed distraction from the day’s events, so he decided to make a pizza and open a bottle of French red wine.
The morning spent in New York, the afternoon in Paris, and the rest of the day in London. Busy day, he nodded to himself after he’d taken a sip of wine.
“Let’s see,” he said. “Pariah knew how to switch off Walker’s Sight, right?” He bent one finger. “He told me to exit the Sight before I entered his office, and there was an empty vial on his desk.” He bent another. “Catherine followed me in the woods, I’m sure of that. Which means, Pariah doesn’t trust me.”
He raised his glass to the lamp light to enjoy the rich color of the drink, then breathed in its aroma and took another sip.
“He doesn’t trust you,” he muttered, nodding his head.
“What else would you expect of him?” a male voice to the right said.
Startled, Damien turned his head, then breathed out loudly when he saw who it was. A tall man in a black cloak stood by the open window, staring at him with gray eyes. Part of his long, white hair streamed down his chest, rippling in the cool breeze.
“You scared me for a moment,” Damien said. “Couldn’t you enter the regular way?”
“You play your games. I play mine.” The guest smiled. “Besides, I didn’t want that lady to see me knock on your door.”
“Yeah, it would be too much for her. I nearly gave her a heart attack when I returned.”
“I saw it,” the man chuckled softly. “You’re losing your grip.”
“I think Catherine followed me when I was walking through the forest,” Damien said, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t see her, but I could feel something was off.”
“They don’t trust you, and they have their reasons, don’t they?”
Damien cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you’re right. Especially after I fled from Evelyn & Laurens that day.” He got to his feet. “Would you like some wine?”
The cloaked man grimaced. “No, thanks. Debbie may not like this. Besides, I have a few more things to do.”
“How’s the new girl? Violet, is it?”
“She’s okay, although it was quite risky of you to break her neck. If I hadn’t got there just in time she’d be dead.”
“As you said, Tyler, you play your games, and I play mine.”
Chapter 8
Catherine stormed through the gate, her shadow sprawling along the ground in front of her. In seconds she crossed the short, weed-covered path to the house, then rushed through the doors and up the stairs towards Pariah’s office. She waved at the door and it swung open; she entered, slamming the door shut with another furious wave of her hand.
“What happened, my dear?” Pariah didn’t look up from the vial he was studying, his face lit with a silver light emanating from inside, accentuating the lines on his forehead and around his eyes.
“He’s gone again. He knew I was following him.” She grabbed a book from Pariah’s desk and hurled it at a side wall. “I tell you it’s dangerous to let him go.”
Pariah placed the vial carefully on the desk. “Let him do whatever he wants. I’ve always known having a Transcendent amongst us can be dangerous. At least he pretends to be on our side. He tries really hard. We need to make sure he’ll never find out what we’ve got here.” He raised the vial, his face distorted in smug satisfaction.
“I don’t think you should spend so much time with it,” Catherine said. “It’s like you’ve grown fond of it.”
Pariah’s grin faltered as he studied Catherine with his black eyes. He got up from his chair.
“I think—” Catherine began.
Closing his eyes, Pariah flicked his fingers at her, and Catherine was thrown by an invisible force, crashing against the wall where she’d hurled his book. The windows rattled at the impact, and the candle on the desk died out. One of the pictures hanging on the wall crashed, the glass in its frame breaking and littering the floor.
Catherine landed on her palms, moaning as the broken glass cut her skin. The next moment her body shot up in the air and flew towards Pariah. He stretched out his hand, and Catherine’s neck landed right in his iron grip.
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” He squeezed her neck harder and pushe
d her onto the desk, her head right next to the vial.
“No!” Catherine wheezed, scratching Pariah’s hand, trying to unclench his fingers, trying anything to get away from the vial and its dazzling light, but all in vain.
“Do you understand what I said?” he hissed through gritted teeth.
She blinked as she clawed at the side of the desk to push herself away from the vial, but then Pariah smiled, and his grip slackened. Catherine sat up, coughing and massaging her bruised neck.
“I—can see—you’re feeling better.” She gulped air hungrily, shooting him an accusing look. “Your powers are back?”
“Yes. Finally. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He came over to her.
Catherine’s shoulders twitched as he stroked her disheveled hair.
“Shhh!” Pariah brought his index to her lips. “I will never hurt you again.”
He took her by the wrists and brought her bleeding fingers to his lips, kissing them and looking into her eyes. Catherine’s breathing slowed as the cuts on the trembling fingers vanished, no mark of the wounds left.
“We’ll take care of Damien, dear. His existence will turn into a nightmare if he decides to double-cross us.”
Chapter 9
Hemophilia. The word Damien had learnt too early in his life. The disease that nearly killed him when he was five. The disease that kept reminding him that he might die any day. When he was a child, a simple cut could bleed for hours, no matter what his mother did to stop it.
Once when he was seven he broke an old vase. It was his mother’s favorite. Scared of the punishment, Damien started collecting the broken pieces, cutting his finger. Blood trickled like rain water down the drain, and he just stood there, watching it, horrified, not knowing what to do as it dripped and pooled by his feet. That was the first time he tasted his own blood. He’d thought it would stop, but it didn’t, his head reeling from its disgusting, coppery taste.
His nose started bleeding the same year, without reason, and Damien knew he would not live long. His mother assured him otherwise, but Damien knew better.
Path of the Heretic (The Beholder Book 2) Page 5