Immortal Essence Box Set: Aligned, Exiled, Beguiled

by RaShelle Workman

  Resisting the urge to comment, Venus studied it, the circular shapes, like a sun and a half-moon. Or an eye . . . the pupil contained a strange symbol. Venus knew some of the younger kels inked up their skin before becoming kelvieri, as a way of expressing themselves. After the change, the art would disappear anyway. But she hadn’t expected to see one on her sister.

  “What does your ink mean?” she finally asked when Amberlee stepped away.

  A look of horror crossed her face. “Oh! None of your business. Some friends and I got it done together.” She yanked her sleeve over the symbol and cleared her throat. With a trembling smile, she pleaded, “You won’t tell Mom?”

  “No. Of course not.” She touched the charm that rested below her collarbones. A jolt shot through her fingers. “Ouch!”

  Unease crossed Amberlee’s face. “What’s your problem?”

  Venus let out a laugh. The pain had vanished as quickly as it’d come. “N-Nothing.” She glanced at her fingers. There wasn’t a mark.

  “Swear you won’t tell?”

  Irritated, she fought back the urge to smack her sister. “I swear, Amberlee. Cret! Hey, I’ll tell you a secret. That’ll make us even. K?” She sat back down and turned toward her vanity. Venus kept an eye on her sister in the mirror as she picked up her gold-toothed comb and ran it through her hair.

  Amberlee crossed her arms and popped a hip. “Really? You have a secret?”

  “You have to promise not to tell anyone.” Venus set the comb back in its exact spot and turned. “Promise?” she asked, mocking.

  “Yeah, Princess. Now what is it?” Amberlee smirked, picked up the small, perfectly squared piece of cake and shoved the whole thing in her mouth. Cheeks full of cake, she glared and had the audacity to laugh. “Come on, tell me,” she said around all the cake.

  Already regretting that she’d agreed to tell, Venus let out a huff. “Sadraden is pregnant, due in about ten days. Her baby will be the first irrihunter born in years.”

  “Those animals scare the helker out of me. And now there’ll be a baby? Yeah, that’s just what the kingdom needs.”

  “Hey, don’t be mean. What’ve irrihunters ever done to you? They’re the most incredible creatures. And to ride one is . . . well, it’s perfection.”

  Amberlee pressed her lips together, her stormy eyes squinted. She swallowed. “Uh-huh. If you say so. But, what about your journey? Are you still planning to ride her?”

  “Absolutely. She’d be devastated if I didn’t.” Venus stood, an urgent need to get started overwhelming her. “I’d better finish packing since I’m leaving tonight instead of in the morning.”

  Amberlee nodded. “Thanks, Venus. It means a lot you . . .” she trailed off and her eyes glazed over, like her mind had gone elsewhere. A second later, she finished, “. . . told me.” She walked to the door and waved a ring-covered hand over the family crest. The golden door twinkled and disappeared. Before moving over the threshold, she asked, “Did you see Zaren at your birthday party?”

  “Sure. Why?” As her personal Formytian, he kept close, sometimes annoyingly so. She’d been seeing him every day since age two, probably longer.

  “I noticed him watching you, a lot. He’s quite handsome. Black hair. Green eyes. Tall. Rippling muscles. Immortality looks good on him, don’t you think?” She nodded encouragingly, as she scrunched a chuck of her hair with a hand.

  Venus huffed. “Yes, Amberlee. When I get back, do you want me to put in a word for you?”

  “By the Gods, no! I meant for you. Forever, Venus. Do you really want to live eternally without love?”

  Pressing her hands together, Venus dug her nails into her palms. Her sister knew a union based on attraction or . . . or love, wasn’t in her future. “Palmo and I are promised to each other. Our kingdoms need us united. Life is about more than love.” Venus walked to the large bay window next to her dresser. The suns were setting, the bigger one slightly higher than the smaller. Various shades of scarlet and gold shot through the clouds like long, glowing swords.

  She turned in time to watch Amberlee’s silver face grow hard and pale as their first moon.

  “Love is everything,” she said, her eyes fierce. Without waiting for Venus to respond, she stalked from the room.

  Yet another reason why I was born first.

  She carefully removed the mid-thigh length coverlette. It was certainly beautiful. Her mother had given it to her that morning. “A special dress for a very special girl.” That’s what the Queen had said.

  It was gauzy and light. Thread the color of sunshine glowed at her wrists, neckline and hem. The long sash shone in the same color. As though the designer had somehow captured a piece of a sun and fashioned it into the sash. She placed the dress on the back of her chair and picked up her pack.

  A few more necessities needed to be added before she left, like her cleaning tablets and some food patches, which she hated. But they were tiny and easy to carry and would sustain her for the few days it took to journey to the home of the Gods and back.

  At her closet, she ran a hand over the Carania family crest. The doors shimmered. She opened the console next to the closet door and pressed buttons to bring up the coverlettes section. Different holographic choices appeared on the screen. Venus selected one in dark blue. Its soft material spun from the magical cairna spiders. It sparkled with what looked like clear dew drops. The thick ribbing along the front as well as the sash glistened with red rosithia flowers.

  The closet spun through her clothes on an invisible belt until the coverlette she wanted arrived in front of her. She held her breath and reached in. After pulling her arm back, she exhaled, and as she put on the coverlette, went to the mirror. Her reflection appeared normal, but a sudden and complete fatigue engulfed her. Like giant hands, the unseeing force crushed her with its heaviness.

  Through weighty eyelids, she peered at herself in the glass and noticed a line of thick, blue liquid streaming from beneath the charm around her neck. She reached up and touched the substance.

  “It’s blood,” she whispered. “How?” Her mind went decidedly numb and no answer would come. Darkness fell over her eyes. Her limbs turned weak. It took all her effort to keep herself upright.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  On rubbery legs, she staggered to the bed, arms stretched out in front of her. Venus used the wall, her dresser and a chair as her crutches to help her get to the bed. She knew once the Body Sensors attached to the bed scanned her, they’d contact help. When she sat, sure enough the Sensors screeched a blazing warning.

  “Your life organs are unwell. A re—” a monotone female voice began and then abruptly stopped, as though turned off.

  Venus wanted to be angry or afraid, but one physical need overrode everything else. Sleep. She laid her head against the silky pillow.

  I’ll begin my journey tomorrow, she promised herself.

  2. Alone

  Michael tossed a rock into Crystal Lake. It skipped three times before disappearing beneath the murky depths. He went to pick up another, but stopped at the sound of a noise. He rose to his full six feet and searched for the culprit.

  Around the water, tall bare trees stood, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeleton fingers. Interspersed between the naked branches of the elm and aspen were the fir, their needles a soft silvery-green and the prickly forest green needles of pine.

  The small lake rippled, a slight wind pushing the water to and fro against the muddy shore. He turned, zipped his letterman’s jacket, and grabbed a blanket from the hood of his car. A little ways off stood a thicket of long yellow weeds, the strands bending in the breeze like bullied children. At the base of a gigantic tree, he shook out the large blanket over a patch of dried grass. The ground was firm, though it hadn’t frozen. That would change soon. Mid October meant freezing weather in Wyoming. At the moment, it was a beautiful afternoon and the spot would serve as the perfect table for the picnic he’d prepared his girlfriend, Cheverly.


  With all the crap that went on in his not-so-happy family, he’d been surprised—still was—that he and Chev had been in a relationship. Somehow they’d managed and today marked their six month anniversary. As a surprise, he’d made a meal, put it in a basket and asked Cheverly’s best friend, Lori, to help him plan their date. On top of that, here next to Crystal Lake and their favorite elm, Michael planned to tell Chev he loved her.

  In the past, they’d argued about it, the fact that he never said the words. It wasn’t that he didn’t have affectionate feelings toward her. He did. He even believed the feelings might be love. Most of his life had been spent keeping emotions at bay. At the ripe old age of seven, he’d come to recognize that expressing fear, anger, pain, or for that matter, happiness, joy and, heaven forbid love, only caused his father and then later his mother’s abuse to be more severe.

  Michael had scars on his back, feet and a long, thin scar on his cheek to prove it. Showing no emotion kept the violence to a minimum. As for real love, if it existed, he figured that might be what he felt for Cheverly. He had no idea, but to keep the peace between them, he’d decided to tell her. Say the words.

  Lori should’ve dropped Cheverly off already. He knew getting Chev to do something without knowing all the details demanded skill. Michael’d been cryptic today, during school, and that’d caused Chev to give him dirty looks. Probably upset and a little hurt, too. A surprise around her required stealth and he’d wanted the moment to be special. So when his cell rang, Michael felt relieved.

  “Hey, Lori. Where you at?” He’d begun to pace.

  “I’m sorry dude, but I can’t find her. I’ve called. Left messages. Texted the girl like ten times. She isn’t answering me.”

  He allowed his mind to run through the various places she could’ve been. Work. Cheerleading practice. At the mall. “I guess I’d better call her. Hope she isn’t too mad.” With his old, orange converse, he kicked a hole in the ground.

  “Yeah, you know how Cheverly feels about surprises, though.”

  “Thanks, Lori.” Michael hung up and dialed Chev’s number. It went straight to voice mail. He left her a message. Then he texted her.

  “Happy Anni, Chev. Wanted 2surprise U. @the lake nxt 2r tree. Com hang w/me.” He debated about whether or not he should add the words, those three words she’d wanted him to say for so long. “Might as well.” He spelled them out completely. “I love you.” And hit send.

  He sat on the blanket and leaned against the old tree. A large bird flew overhead, calling out. An eagle. He watched it circle the lake, drop its claws into the water and pull out a fish.

  Food. His stomach rumbled. Digging around in the picnic basket, he pulled out a PB&J sandwich. No, it wasn’t gourmet, but hey, not a chef. He’d gone the extra mile and baked sugar cookies. When they cooled, he dipped one side in melted milk chocolate, which happened to be her favorite.

  Michael looked forward to them as well. It’d taken all of his restraint not to help himself while he baked them. Every once in a while the buttery-chocolate smell would drift through the air and hit his nose, causing his mouth to water. If Chev didn’t hurry, he’d probably eat them all. He unwrapped another sandwich and wolfed it down while he waited.

  A ways off, he heard a motor. Michael turned toward the sound. A large cloud of dust swirled high in the air. Seconds later, a gleaming, black truck drove into the clearing across the lake. He knew the truck, with its huge halogen lamps, chrome roll bars and beefy silver-coated grill. It belonged to Vinny Smith. Dirt clung to the air even after the 4X4 stopped.

  The motor shut off. If he’d come with friends to party, they’d have jumped out by now. Other cars would’ve followed. Vinny’s truck sat alone on the opposite side of the lake which meant he probably had some girl in there with him. The possibility of what might be going on got Michael to thinking about him and Chev. They’d had some good times.

  Totally his type, she had long, dark hair that smelled of jasmine, a heart-shaped face, the softest skin, and a perfectly curved body. The girl rocked a tight sweater. That was another reason he’d decided to say the words.

  I love you, he practiced.

  Michael checked his phone. No messages. No texts. He decided to call her again.

  While it rang, Michael noticed the car door to Vinny’s truck open. A girl got out and slammed the door. Her ringing phone tinkled through the silence around him.

  “Hey, Michael.” Not only did he hear her voice in his ear, but it sang across the small lake. He froze, too stunned to answer. Had she not seen his text? Or did she? He stood. “Michael? Are you there?”

  “Chev,” he whispered. “I texted you. Did you get it?” The dank, sour smell of the lake had begun to irritate his stomach. And, the afternoon chill, which felt crisp not five minutes ago, vanished. Sweat covered his back, causing his plaid button-up shirt to stick and scratch, even through his undershirt.

  “No, hang on.” He watched her lower the phone and tried to imagine what kind of look would be on her face as she read. Horror. Fear, maybe. Or she might find the whole situation funny. She raised the phone to her ear, her face lifted so that he knew she watched him. But the distance made it impossible to see her expression. In the background Vinny’s country music blared. “I’m so sorry.” A hand went to her mouth.

  Anger blistered hot and he struggled to think straight. Michael wanted to beat Vinny to a pulp. The two of them played football together. Michael had believed Vinny was okay. The scum was his favorite receiver. Damn him! He’d deal with Vinny in his own way.

  As for Chev, evidently they meant nothing. She’d made a choice, made a fool of him. Into the phone, Michael said, “When you’re done doing . . . whatever it is you came to do . . .” He trailed off as images of his girlfriend and Vinny making out, or worse, entered his mind. He pounded the side of his head with the palm of a hand, trying to knock the thoughts away. “Chev,” he whispered, kicking at a loose rock. “How could you? I guess I should’ve known.” The words came out bitter, cold.

  “Cheese on crackers, Michael. I’m not . . . we aren’t—”

  “One more thing.” He interrupted as his fury rose. She was making excuses and he didn’t want to hear them. If they weren’t doing anything, then why come here—with him—today of all days? Murder would’ve been better than this. At least he wouldn’t have had to feel this-this pain. Damn her!

  “Michael, I—”

  “You can take that text, those words you so badly wanted to hear, and shove em up—”

  “Jerk,” she shouted, and hung up.

  “Ha,” he yelled into the phone. Then slammed it shut. “I’m the jerk. Me,” he hollered across the lake as he grabbed the basket, turned it over, and let the food fall into the dirt. He picked up the blanket and jogged to his car—Red—the only girl who didn’t irritate him. The only one who’d remained loyal. With a key, he opened the trunk and chucked the basket and blanket inside. Then gently pushed it closed. He got in the driver’s side, started the engine and adjusted the mirror. His reflection glared. “You’re such an idiot. Crap!” He slammed on the gas and peeled away.

  While Michael drove, he tried not to think about Chev, but that proved impossible. She was laughable, in a very un-funny way. How dare she do this to him?

  What’d you expect? It’s what you deserve.

  It served him right. He’d seen how love affected his parents, and the way they’d taken it out on him. Why had he figured he and Chev would be any different? Love didn’t exist.

  Love. He blew out his breath.

  No way would he allow himself to be swayed again.

  3. Poison Arrow

  “Michael, can you come into the kitchen?”

  “Sure, mother.” He walked into the house from the garage. Stink from cigarette smoke assaulted his nose. All the lights were off and, as usual, the blinds were closed. Michael was surprised to see his mother in the kitchen. At this time of day, she usually watched a talk show, still in a good mood. Her
“happy” pills saw to that. From her tone, the pills weren’t working at the moment. He set the blanket and empty picnic basket on the counter.

  “What’s this?” she asked, taking a drag from her menthol flavored cigarette. A smoky haze caused the stainless steel appliances and walnut cabinets to appear like apparitions. The house mourned in silence, except for the sizzle and burn as she sucked deadly chemicals into her lungs. She wobbled, unsteady on her feet, a frail shell of a woman.

  He’d seen old pictures of his mother before his parents divorced. When they’d been together, she’d worn her hair up, in curly piles of blond. Her skin had always been tanned and her honey-colored eyes alert. Not long after dad left, everything changed. She stood in front of Michael now, her hair stringy, skin patchy, and vacant eyes underlined with dark circles. Brown sweats, four sizes too big drowned her body, and fuzzy, drab-looking slippers that at one time were probably white, adorned her feet—a wrinkled potato.

  Michael towered over her. She barely reached his bicep. But, as she stood there, a cigarette in one hand and a half-filled wine glass in the other, his stomach started to twist in knots of fear. For her, for him, for the way he knew their confrontation would end.

  Michael hated days like today.

  “I made dinner for my girlfriend and me.” No point denying. Despite her dirty, half-stoned looks, she was quick as a bull whip.

  “Ah, young love.” She crushed the cigarette in an ashtray on the counter, picked up the basket and put it away, on the bottom shelf, in the pantry.

  Right then, it occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn’t have used the stupid thing. It belonged to his parents. Who knew how many memories it contained? He also noticed bread crusts on the floor near the trashcan. In his hurry to clean up, he’d apparently missed. Ah crap. Any sort of mess pushed a mad-button on his mother, setting her off.