by M L Adams
At that moment a piercing shriek rung through the air, and the birds once again ceased their chorus. Mokoto almost tripped over his feet in fright.
‘You heard that too?’ Eden whispered.
They were both crouched low to the ground.
‘Hard not to with ears as big as mine,’ he said matter-of-factly.
Despite the tension in the air, Eden couldn’t suppress the burst of laughter that erupted from her throat. She slapped a hand to her mouth.
‘Though I doubt anyone could have missed it,’ Mokoto added, and sniffed the air, drawing it deep into his lungs. The level of concentration shown in his expression looked misplaced on such a young face.
Eden listened for the sound again, but her ears were filled with the beating of her wild heart. Mokoto sat down closely beside her. His muzzle lifted to the sky. The sharp morning breeze weaved patterns through his fur like caressing fingers.
Silence.
‘Could we have imagined it?’ Eden asked, turning to her friend. She wanted desperately for him to agree with her. She'd rather deal with the possibility of going mad than the prospect of encountering the real reason for that scream.
He shook his head. ‘No, I heard it too. It sounded close.’
‘It wasn’t the oak, do you think? The branches looked pretty old and creaky…’
Mokoto gave her a look that said she was clutching at straws.
Her shoulders dropped. ‘Fine! Let’s just keep our eyes open. I have no intention in us to getting caught up in that.’
Mokoto rolled his eyes mockingly; they both knew her suggestion went without saying.
They had only walked three paces before another cry boomed, but this one was different. Eden froze. The hairs on her body rose to attention. Without a word, she doubled back, and time seemed to turn to lead as she propelled herself towards the oak tree.
Eden climbed the branches as high as she dared. Staring down into the field of gold, she spotted a fresh trail that had been cut between the stalks. She knew only a thickset body could have made a path that wide. Her eyes followed the trail deeper into the crop before she found the source of the cry, but her mind couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. She stared on, vaguely aware of Mokoto calling up to her, unable to take her eyes off the scene before her.
At first, she thought they’d stumbled upon a man fighting a giant, which would have been unbelievable in itself — but then she caught a glimpse of the giant’s face. Eden gasped. It was all wrong. The giant creature was lying on its back, facing her, while a broad-shouldered man stood tall above it. The creature’s face was twisted, long and stretched. Its oddly shaped eyes appeared soulless, and its copper hair roamed about its face like a lion’s mane. Surely such a creature had no name. It was not of her world, but there was something familiar in the way the man, standing above it, held himself.
The man was favouring his left side and seemed a little unsteady on his feet. He was also covered in a great deal of blood. Her breath caught at the sound of a familiar voice as it boomed in the stillness.
‘I demand passage! Leave me be, or I will have no choice but to end you.’
‘Never!’ the creature bellowed. It struck out with its leg, but the man was inhumanly fast as he jumped into the air to strike the creature squarely in the head with his boot. The creature’s body went still.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the man turned and ran deeper into the field. He appeared to be searching for something as he ran, but then, without warning, he too fell to the ground.
All was still once more.
Chapter 8
‘i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.’
– e.e. cummings, I carry your heart (i carry it in my heart).
Luca woke with a start and drew cold morning air deep into his lungs. It was a dream — all of it! It had to be… but he’d had these waking visions before and knew them to be more than just a stroll through dream valley. Surely there was no way Eden would put her life in jeopardy, not when she had the safety of her family to think of? Who was he to her, really? He knew he was a friend, a part-time companion for those wandering forays into the forest, but had she seen through his careful facade? Could she see how he burned for her inside?
He threw the stifling covers from him, noting for the first time he was in his room. Heavy raindrops beat their arrival on the roof of his bedchamber. He heaved a sigh and worked his sluggish legs over the edge of his bed. He remained there for a time, thinking and staring at the bare wooden walls surrounding him. He couldn't recall much of what had happened to him. He tried to order his jumbled memories. He remembered Eden's face, the rolling whiteness of the great elephant’s eyes and his decision to end her. He must have been severely wounded to have been knocked out cold.
Luca tensed the muscles in his legs, back and arms, feeling for injuries. He found none. He stared at his bedroom door, which had seemed pretty innocent up to this point. If he walked through it right now, would he find his brother, even Eden, waiting for him in the rooms below?
He stood, a little unsteady on his feet at first, and threw on an old shirt and trousers lying nearby. With a feeling of trepidation, he grasped the cold stone, turned the knob and stuck his head out. The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. The usual smells of cooking and burnt wood were missing from the air. Luca found it funny how he never really noticed those minor details until they were missing.
He walked down the hall to the stairs, absentmindedly dragging rough fingers through his knotted hair. He’d have to get Micah to cut it soon. If Eden were to see him now, she’d no doubt run a mile, he thought, rubbing at the long copper bristles covering his cheeks and chin. If he looked like he felt, he’d give himself a wide berth too.
He looked around him, trying to pick out any sign of recent life. No lamps had been lit in preparation for the impending night, and it was obvious the fireplace hadn't been used in a while. Remnants of the last fire, fuelled by offcuts of yew wood he'd collected, were still present in the hearth. It was as if he were still caught in that dream; suspended somewhere dreadfully familiar and foreign at the same time. He lit a few lamps as he passed, hoping to shed some light and warmth on this gloomy day.
Luca rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes and made his way to the kitchen. His bare feet sounded too loud against the worn floorboards. Coffee! He needed coffee. Coffee would make it all right again. Micah was probably out foraging, or whatever it was he did when he was away, and Eden would be at home, safe with her family — though it wouldn't surprise him to learn she'd been out night and day, attending to those affected by the stampede. He knew she’d see it as some sort of duty of hers. A small smile lit his face at the thought, but he couldn't deny the small voice wanting her here tending to him instead.
Luca entered the kitchen, momentarily forgetting what had brought him there; its rough stone floor was chilly beneath his feet. He had been meaning to change it to wood this year, but Micah seemed to like the mismatched stonework — the only disorder permitted in his otherwise orderly life.
Luca blinked at the empty kitchen counter. Oh yes, coffee! He reached for a small clay pot, nestled next to its neighbouring pot of dried sugarcane sticks. He took comfort in the fact that everything was in its right place, all clean and tidy. Micah couldn’t abide an untidy living space. Luca lit the little fire pit they had created here, making it easier to cook, rather than use the big fire in their living space. Once the fire had been kindled, he braced his arms on the counter, silently bidding the flames to evaporate the cold that still lingered inside him. He turned his head to look out the rain-streaked window, and something caught his eye.
A scrap of crude paper was lying over the mouth of his favourite mug.
He reached for it slowly, a sense of foreboding washing over him. It was only a piece
of paper; he tried to convince himself. What harm could it do?
He could already tell it was from Micah. Only his brother knew he made a cup of coffee each and every morning… that was if Micah hadn't brought one up for him already. Luca unfolded it to review the neatly scrawled words upon the sepia paper.
Without warning, his knees gave out from under him. He grabbed on to the counter with his fingertips before hitting the ground completely. After three days had been and gone without word of Eden’s safe return, Micah had become concerned and decided to leave in search of her.
Luca struggled to order his thoughts. It was just over half a day’s walk to Eden's home, so when had Micah left? How long had he been lying there, vegetating and useless? Should he go over there, or should he stay and wait for Micah’s return? He slumped against the cupboards and gripped his head in his hands before letting it fall back and collide with the wood. What was he going to do? The note was now a crumpled mess in his hand. He smoothed it out and reread it slowly; looking for any information he might have missed.
Micah had sent for their Father.
Luca let his head fall back again and groaned. This was not good.
After a while, he collected himself from the floor and went outside to wash. He took care shaving the lost days from his face, feeling them slip away with each upward scrape of the serrated stone. He dried himself with a rag and wandered back to his room to change his clothes, discarding the worn items for warmer, hardier cloth.
Once dressed, Luca went back down to the porch, found a comfortable spot and waited. A few birds were still in song, braving the weather, unwilling to release the day to their night-time counterparts; their bright music was a stark contrast to his brooding thoughts. He would wait, but if his Father failed to arrive soon, he too would set out on his own.
Luca closed his eyes. How had this all come to be? He had found Eden that morning — lost in thought, as she usually was — and knew she looked more troubled than usual. He wished she’d let him carry the burdens that caused her such worry. Since the night they had first met, Luca knew he was a lost man. The bright yellow glow of the fire turned Eden’s skin to gold, transforming her into a creature of light and shadow. Since that moment, he had often found himself watching her. The way she moved with such grace was mesmerising. She soothed the itch that constantly writhed under his skin. She was peace. She was contentment. Around her, he did not feel the need to do the terrible things that taunted his mind so often.
The longing he felt to call Eden his own drew Luca’s thoughts back to the present. Where was Micah now? His brother would have struggled with the decision to leave his unprotected body, Luca knew that, but Eden’s safety was critical. If Eden was harmed and Micah hadn’t attempted to find her… well, quite simply, that would spell the end of the Serafin brothers. Micah had sacrificed too much for Luca already, and he was doing it again right now. How would he ever repay him? How would he show Micah that his loyalty and love were keeping him from the dark void that was so desperate to suck him in?
Luca punched the floor, savouring the sharp burn of the torn skin. Why couldn’t he have been created like the rest of them? No one else knew what it was like to be stuck in the presence of perfection and still crave more, to want a slice of that glory for his own. Why was he expected to sit aside and watch as others praised the Creator when he knew he could do better? Luca clenched his fist and watched the droplets of blood run down his arm to splash on the porch. Micah had tried to keep Luca’s demon in check, that hated, sadistic part of him, but the soul could not lie, and it certainly did not hide.
Light footfalls sounded up the seven stairs that lead to the porch area. Luca took a moment to compose his face before acknowledging his visitor. He didn’t know why he even bothered; he was never able to hide his thoughts and feelings when it came to Him.
‘Hello, Father.’
Luca stayed seated, head bowed, hoping for a sign he was acknowledged. As the seconds dragged he knew a moment of worry, but just when he thought his reprieve would never arrive, a hand took hold of his arm and hauled him into a strong embrace. A sob wracked through Luca’s body; he had not truly realised how much he’d longed for this moment. Luca embraced his Father with the arms of a child, wishing his fears would flee with the sureness and sense of belonging he felt in those arms now supporting him.
‘Hello, My son.’
The deep timbre of His voice reverberated in Luca’s chest. Was this what it was like to be a young in its mother’s womb? Safe, warm and comforted by a soothing voice?
Luca pulled his face back and stared into the steady eyes he’d missed so much. ‘How can You call me that? Still, after all, I have done?’ He realised he’d gripped on to his Father’s shirt for fear of losing Him again.
Soft eyes clouded with confusion. ‘Whenever did you cease being My son? We all must grow. I would not deny you the same journey. I have missed you — and your brother.’ He held Luca at arm’s length. ‘I can tell from your eyes that you suffer, but do not worry. I have been watching you, Lucifer. You are everything I had hoped you’d be.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To you, the reader. I cannot thank you enough for taking a chance on me and I hope I have not disappointed you. Writing has been a dream of mine for so long that I almost can’t believe I’m here writing this, knowing you have shared this story and these characters with me.
To my family, who have read through draft after draft of failed attempts and terrible, terrible writing, while I learned and relearned this craft. I love you so much.
To Steve Jenkins and Nick Christofides, who are distinguished writers in their own genres, for helping me weave my way through the do’s and don’t’s of the publishing world. Thank you so much for sharing your secrets!
To Live In Revelry
(Book 1)
Copyright © 2018 by M. L. Adams
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The right of M. L. Adams to be identified as the author of the Work has been asserted to him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Published in Great Britain in 2018.