To my surprise, Death took it in a relatively mature fashion. Her vision went hazy, a sign of deep emotion. She didn’t possess the ability to cry, of course, but these small details showed that her soul was in turmoil upon hearing his words. Even so, she kept her composure and accepted Shezin’s demand for separation.
She left him his immortality, and she left him the scythe, too. “I still can’t believe she made him a Reaper weapon and taught him death magic because he complained of boredom,” Unending said, irritated and amused at the same time.
Years went by, and as Shezin went on with his life, we realized that Death didn’t really leave his side. Unbeknown to him at the time, she’d come to see him, to follow him around, quietly watching. Shezin stayed out of sight and kept to his cabin in the mountains. He used death magic to sneak into Dain cities and swipe some of their books and manuscripts, since he lacked literary entertainment. It was clear to us that despite his rejection, Death still loved Shezin, even though he had moved on. One day, unable to take it anymore, she made a troubling decision.
She revealed herself to Shezin and asked him to keep her memories. Unable to exist like this anymore, she chose to extract every moment she had spent with him. In return, she gave Shezin dominion over Dain as a sort of living Reaper—he sent the souls of the people into the afterlife, and she kept the planet out of the Reapers’ registries of inhabited worlds. It was her final gift to him before she extracted the memories of their love. The last bauble held her final memory. Death was already confused and unable to understand much of what was going on, but Shezin assured her it would be okay.
Death had given him precise instructions on how to handle the last memory extraction and send her on her way without even the faintest recollection of them meeting—it worked because she’d made the spell to work on her, too. The image faded into darkness, and that was the last of the memory keepers. That was the end of Death’s love for Shezin. The gold chain had been absorbed into her being, hidden from sight. The pain in her soul must’ve faded over time, though she’d probably had trouble explaining it to herself.
It didn’t matter anymore. Shezin and Dain were out of her mind and heart for good. There were five other baubles left in the box. The memories of five Reapers who had come to Dain over the eons, memories Shezin had plucked and shoved into the glass balls. They looked slightly different from Death’s—much smaller and darker at first sight.
Unending let out a heavy sigh. “I kind of feel sorry for her. How deeply it must’ve hurt for her, of all entities in this world, to choose to forget.”
“In the end, it wasn’t hypocritical of her to judge and chastise you over your relationship with Erethiel and your gift to him, if you think about it,” I replied, trying not to smile. She picked up on it and playfully shoved me. I tumbled backward and burst into laughter. “It’s true. Think about it. She has absolutely no recollection of being the pot, my beloved kettle.”
“Yeah… I know,” she grumbled. “I’m still pissed off.”
“You have every right to be. Though, annoyingly enough, this only proves the two of you are more alike than either of you would care to admit.”
Unending shrugged. “Hence the constant friction. Yes. Now, I would like to see what the other Reapers’ memories entail.”
“How long before Shezin realizes we swiped them?”
“I’m not sure. I doubt he’s the type to watch these over and over for his own entertainment.” A knock on the door startled us both. We looked at each other, then at the memory keepers spread on the floor between us. “Who is it?” Unending asked aloud.
“Priestess Ashuna,” said a sweet voice from the other side of the door. “We are preparing to break our fast in the roof top gardens, if you would care to join us? There is fresh blood for your husband, as well, kindly donated by one of my sisters.”
A few moments passed as we gathered the baubles back in the pillowcase, which Unending then proceeded to hide under the bed. “Give us a few minutes,” I called out. “We will gladly join you on the rooftop.”
“As you will,” the priestess replied, and I listened to her receding footsteps.
“I guess we’ll check the Reapers’ memories later,” Unending whispered. “We can’t give Shezin or his servants any reason to doubt us right now. There is more to this than we’ve seen. Did you notice how often Death found him away from the cabin? In the memories, I mean.”
I nodded. “You’re right. Quite often, if I remember correctly.”
“He gave her seemingly reasonable excuses every time, but what if Anunit is one hundred percent right on this? We have to keep digging. We have to find out what makes him worthy of a death sentence.”
With that in mind and unable to hide the baubles under invisibility magic, Unending and I braced for this new day and walked out, hoping the wards she’d placed on the door would keep any curious priestess or even Shezin himself away. It was strange to me that Death had chosen to wipe him from her memories altogether, but her grief must have been cosmic to make her feel like it was her best option.
My parents had taught me that there was a lot to be learned from a broken heart. But Death was Death. I figured the saying didn’t have to apply to her, a force of nature that had already seen and heard everything. Then again, Death had never loved before. Shezin had been a painful first in that sense. Unending was right, however. We needed to understand what had happened between then and now to make Anunit so against him. He must have done something. Something heinous. But what?
Dafne
A five-hour sleep felt like pure luxury. Mornings in The Shade were always dark and starry, and in that way, this fake world had fooled me. For a moment I thought I was home, nestled in my bed in the Black Heights. My back felt warm, and a pair of arms held me close as a soft pillow caressed my cheek. I must’ve been dreaming, or I was still in a dream, only partially conscious. I wasn’t even sure I’d slept five hours. I had no idea why I’d counted five hours, or how.
Someone stirred behind me, and my eyes suddenly popped wide open. Within seconds, I was aware of my surroundings. I’d slept in one of the bedrooms on the upper floor in Phoenix and Viola’s treehouse. No, wait—in the clones’ treehouse in the fake Shade. Ugh, that hadn’t been a nightmare at all but a gritty reality.
I was in bed. I’d been sleeping. And someone was holding me. Someone unnaturally warm, a hard body spooning me beneath a puffy blanket. Snippets from the previous night began to resurface like distant memories. Jericho and I had agreed to share this room. He’d take the couch by the window, and I’d take the bed. We’d done just that, yet somehow… he’d ended up in bed? With me?
My heart stopped beating for a second, then became a rapid drumbeat. Boom. Boom. Boom. I needed a deep breath just to get it under control before I cleared my throat and raised my voice over Jericho’s soft sleeping hum. “What the hell are you doing here?” I snarled, outrage flaring through my voice, then spun around and quickly regretted it when I found my lips mere inches from his.
The hum stopped, and Jericho’s heart rumbled. Thump. Thump. Thump. I could hear it. A minute went by in awkward silence as he opened his eyes slowly. Parts of the previous night were still foggy. I must have been absolutely exhausted. “You were really cold. Shaking, even,” Jericho said.
“Wait, what?” I asked in a trembling voice. My heart was racing, and I had a hard time not losing myself in the pools of turquoise in his eyes. “I’m an ice dragon. I don’t get cold.” In an instant, I pushed him away with enough strength to nearly throw him off the bed.
“You were cold last night. I swear,” he blurted, raising his hands in a defensive gesture as he got up, his hair a shaggy mess. “You woke up from all the shaking.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he’d just described to me. It sounded foreign. Impossible. Not in my nature. Yet… what reason would Jericho have to lie? It hit me then, like a cold shower. The memory itself, barely a fuzzy moment in the back of my head.
I’d woken up trembling, my teeth chattering, and Jericho asked me if I was okay. I’d told him I was cold. I didn’t know why, but I was cold.
“You said it must be the effect of this place somehow,” I murmured, lowering my gaze, suddenly ashamed. An ice dragon feeling cold was simply unheard of. It made me feel like I was… faulty. “That it’s impacting each of us. For Astra, her energy levels oscillate too much. For Thayen… we’re not sure yet, but he’s got to be coming down with something, too. For Soph, it was the speed of her reactions, right?”
Jericho nodded. “Exactly. And I complained about my bones aching after the last shift back to my human form, just before you asked me to keep you warm since I’m full of fire.” He chuckled softly. “Frankly, I thanked all the stars for that, because I was feeling quite hot, myself.”
“Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was joking.
“Yeah, I swear. There is something about this place that’s messing with us the longer we’re here. We didn’t even notice it at first,” he said. “How are you feeling now?”
I thought about it and asked myself the same question. How did I feel? “Better, I think. Warm and toasty, as if I’ve slept in front of a roaring fireplace. I’m not used to it.” My response came out as a sullen grumble. I needed my walls of ice, not his heat!
“I’m refreshed, as well,” he replied, with a genuine smile. “I hugged a block of ice all night, and I feel great.”
Yes, except he melted it away, and I felt defenseless all of a sudden. “Well, good for you,” I muttered. “It’s weird, though. If that’s what the fake Shade is doing to us now… how bad will it get? What else will it do? Makes me wonder.” Fills me with dread, more likely. Good grief, I slept in the arms of a fire dragon. My dad would break down from the laughter…
“Yeah. Sorry if you had a weird awakening. I reckon you were half-sleeping and not really conscious when the cold made you ask for me.”
“I obviously wasn’t conscious, otherwise I wouldn’t have made such a request,” I said, raising my chin in defiance. My whole body tingled. I’d enjoyed the feel of his arms around me. But Jericho didn’t need to know that. It would be my secret, I thought, feeling the ice coming back up and enveloping me in its familiar coldness.
“By the night, you two should really get on with it. One’s pushing, the other’s pulling, I’m getting frustrated,” a man’s voice cut through the room, and I jumped out of bed as if it were about to explode, while Jericho whirled around, ready to fight. Brandon sat on the window ledge, casually plucking pieces of nut out of a hard, brown shell and chewing them with a curious look on his face. “I think this would be better roasted. Food’s not my thing anymore, but I do miss it sometimes…”
“What the hell?!” I hissed, ready to kick him out the window.
“Pardon me,” Brandon replied when Jericho approached him. The foreigner raised an arm to stop him. “Don’t be stupid. I’m here to help.”
“How’d you find us?” I asked.
“And why the hell were you prowling like that?” Jericho added, fists balled at his sides.
Brandon got off the ledge and landed on the floor with a soft thud. I had a better view of his attire—black leather and a plethora of small silver rings, interconnected and sewn over his shoulders and up his neck like a collar. The vest was tight, his waist covered by a thick belt loaded with small, naked steel knives. His pants were molded onto his thighs and calves, and he wore knee-length boots with steel and silver buckles on every side strap. There was a sword sheathed on his back, its pommel gleaming in the amber light from the overhead fixture.
“First of all, I found you like Haldor will eventually find you, by process of elimination and by assuming you’re not idiots,” Brandon replied dryly. “Second, I’m not prowling. I was waiting for the two of you to wake up.”
“Why?” I wasn’t sure if he was truly trustworthy. The blue fires in his eyes reminded me too much of Haldor.
“We need to talk,” he replied.
A few minutes later, we were all gathered downstairs. Soph was still rubbing her eyes, and Thayen looked like he hadn’t slept in years. Astra was calm, but she didn’t take her eyes off Brandon, staring with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as he spoke.
“You can’t stay here for too long,” he said. “If I was able to find you, so will Haldor and any other Berserker HQ sends after you. Now, I understand you’re looking for your friends and family members who were abducted from the real Shade. Did I get that right?”
“Yeah. Hold up. Berserkers?” Thayen asked, frowning in confusion.
“You’ve never heard of my kind, trust me. You’re not supposed to know about us at all, but hey… this place is such a crap-storm that I no longer care much for the confidentiality rules,” Brandon replied, lounging in one of the fabric armchairs. The darkness seeped from him and into the material, making it appear gray instead of cream. It was as if his presence affected the objects around him. Even the floorboards blackened beneath his boots. “Berserkers belong to the realm beyond death. We’re punishers. We don’t belong here, but that’s a story for another time.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Astra shot back, cocking her head to the side. “You don’t drop a bomb like that then expect us to just carry on like nothing happened. Not cool. What do you mean the realm beyond death?”
Brandon sighed, deeply frustrated. “Where do souls go after they’re reaped?”
“We don’t know,” Astra said. “The afterlife, we call it.”
“Yeah, that. Berserkers hail from there. Anyway, I counted about twenty active in this place, though I’m sure there might be more. HQ is still struggling to round up my kind,” Brandon replied. “Point is, I know where the prisoners are kept.”
Soph scoffed. “You should’ve led with that.”
“I was getting there, but Pinkie here interrupted me,” he retorted.
“Also, who’s HQ and what do they want? They clearly have a bone to pick with us!” Soph replied.
“I can’t say. Sorry.”
Astra wasn’t satisfied. “Why not?”
“Because I can’t, okay? Just accept it,” Brandon snapped.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t ask other questions, which she absolutely did. “What’s a Berserker? What are you, exactly? And where are they keeping my mom and Isabelle?” We all knew we’d find out the truth about this HQ eventually, hopefully from him and not through bloody practice.
“Lots of questions. I’m going to be brief, for now,” Brandon said, chuckling, though there was barely any amusement in his expression or his voice. “A Berserker is a punisher. I’m a punisher. An eternal punisher, to be specific. As for your pink-haired mother and Isabelle, they’re being held in the cells beneath the Port. They’re not the only ones, either.”
My blood ran colder than usual as I braced myself to hear more familiar names. “Who else do the clones have?”
“I saw Voss, Richard, and Chantal. I never met them personally, but I’ve had dealings with their doppelgangers now and then,” Brandon replied nonchalantly. “It won’t be easy to reach them, but I trust you stocked up at the armory before blowing it up?”
Thayen nodded. “Yeah. What can you tell us about the guards? I assume the cells are well secured.”
“Is my mom okay?” Astra asked.
Brandon gave her a brief look, and for a second, I could swear the blue fires in his eyes softened into a faint white glow. It only lasted for a breath, then it was gone. “Viola is fine. They don’t plan on killing her. They’re using her to get you.”
“What? Why me?” Astra asked.
“Just don’t let them catch you,” he said.
“You’re not being very helpful,” I interjected. The vagueness of his statements irked me. We were in enough trouble already. We didn’t need half-measures and half-truths. Not when an entire island wanted us dead. “You need to tell us more.”
He got up. “Not now. Just watch out and extract your peop
le. We’ll talk later.”
“Don’t go,” Astra breathed, her dark eyes wide as she bit her lower lip, visibly nervous and anxious. Truth be told, none of us wanted to see the back of Brandon at this point. He’d already told us more than Myst, and there was so much left for him to explain. Most importantly, he wasn’t hostile toward us, and if he’d meant to trap us somehow, all he had to do was bring Haldor to us. That hadn’t happened, so maybe it was time to see him less as an enemy and more as a potential ally.
“Go get your mom,” Brandon told her. “I’ll see you again. I promise, Pinkie.”
He vanished in a puff of black mist, and we were left staring, dumbfounded by this brief but incredibly telling encounter. Our mission was getting back on track. We had a location for our friends. We knew about the Berserkers—Brandon had told us what he was, and Myst had mentioned their affinity for the darkness. It was better than nothing, for sure.
I looked at Jericho and noticed the concern etched into his features. “What’s wrong?”
“The prisoners will be heavily guarded,” he said. “I’m worried we might be walking into a trap.”
“If Brandon wanted to trap us, he would’ve—” Thayen started to offer a reasoning similar to mine, but Jericho cut him off.
“It’s not Brandon I’m worried about. It’s the clones. You heard him. They’re keeping Viola to get Astra. Won’t we play right into their hands if we go there?”
The half-Daughter sighed deeply. “We can’t leave them to rot in those cages, either.”
“Guys, gals—we need a plan, that’s all,” Soph said, trying to reconcile both sides of our crew. “The Port is anything but impenetrable, and there are ways to get to those cells without using the main access point or the central hallways. We can get close and survey the area, then establish an entry point.”
It sounded reasonable. It was a good plan. I doubted it would end well, but we owed it to our friends to try. The clones couldn’t be allowed to get away with this nonsense. Not anymore. We’d come to their turf, and we’d come to play hard. Hiding and worrying and steering clear of the enemy was not the way forward.
A Shade of Vampire 89: A Sanctuary of Foes Page 16