by Namita Singh
till now.”
That has me pondering. I recall my father’s words as he was narrating the two times Jermaine had attacked them. The first time, Jermaine had daringly attacked in front of the Occultist itself. And yet, the Occultist had done nothing.
“The Occultist had stood as a spectator when Jermaine had attacked my father the first time. Even I was shocked when dad told me that she had not taken any measures to curb the incident. Not even afterwards.”
“…Hmm. That’s rich….the occultist having a grudge against your family.” Neal mutters.
I look at him, confounded by the revelation, “But, w-why?”
Neal blinks for a few moments, maintaining eye contact with me. He begins slowly, “The occultist...seemed very keen…when she caught sight of the scimitar in my hands.”
I blink at him in return.
“Jermaine was being controlled by someone when he stole the sword from your granddad, right?” Neal asks.
Still blinking, I nod at him.
“What happens when the owner of the scimitar dies?” he asks next.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest at the disclosure. It may not be true, but it seems like the most plausible theory.
“It’s very bizarre that an occultist will go to such extents to get a sword.” I say in a monotone.
“A sword that can kill other Occultists, and protect the owner as well.” Neal corrects. He sighs when I don’t respond. “Alright….so, the First Occultist is a greedy bitch who wants her claws in me. The Third Witch lives in resentment because of her torn piece which is the scimitar now. And the Ninth Occultist just basically wanted all to herself, be it the scimitar, the vaticinator, to be the sole ruler…whatnot…I am glad we got rid of the Ninth Occultist first.”
Despite myself, I smirk.
“From what I am learning of the Occultists,” I say, “ I won’t be surprised if every witch turns out to be equally greedy at your or the sword’s sight. It’s like wagging a piece of bone in front of dogs.”
Apparently, my comment is enough hilarious to make Neal laugh loudly. He doesn’t even heed the fact that I just called him a bone.
Bone…funny word.
I shake myself of the distracting thoughts. Neal and I digress from this topic, finding it too overbearing for our relaxed minds at the present. The rest of the time, we try our best to remain clear of tensed topics. Our desire to stay away from such negativity should be understandable, considering we’re already moving towards a dooming world. So, we laugh, playfully fight, gossip literally like girls and laugh some more. I am depressed when it’s our last day on the cruise. But Neal doesn’t let his hopes die.
“Last day to jest, Lichinsky. Don’t prove me right to think of you as fool by letting the opportunity go.”
So, I don’t let it go. We laugh again and talk again. I express regret over my still swollen and broken arm, as Neal expresses joy that my rest of the wounds are gone. But come tomorrow, thoughts of my sore arm escape my mind. Getting off at the Krasnoyarsk port, I take in the beauty of the Yenisei River.
Who knows? Maybe that’s the last beautiful thing that I will see with my eyes.
27.A Lullaby By A Dreadful Night
Neal and I are silent as we sit in the back seat of the cab.
Neal is sitting calmly, our bag in his lap, his hands lying limp upon the straps. He is staring out of the window, blinking at the intermittent street lights that shine in the darkened sky. He looks calm, almost serene. I usually don’t prefer a quiet Neal, and this situation comes no different in that respect. But looking at how steady and unruffled he looks, almost in peace; I swallow down the million conversation starters stilling at the tip of my tongue. I am nervous, to say the least. I don’t want to rub off my anxiousness on him by spilling my worrisome thoughts.
So, I settle on fidgeting.
That turns out to be extremely annoying because my right arm is still in a sling. So I end up moving my left hand about the space, sometimes tapping my feet, other times straightening the t-shirt I am wearing. The majority of times I turn my head towards the left side and watch Neal observing the lights outside. Seeing him this calm makes me more skittish.
I scratch my pant leg, biting my inner cheek; wondering what on earth are we doing going back to the mansion? I wish we could continue our journey on the cruise forever; even though I don’t really like ships. But anything is better than what we are moving towards. Anything will be better than the vacillating fate that awaits us. Anything-
Neal moves his right hand from the bag and wraps it around my fidgeting left wrist. He is still looking outside, hardly acknowledging his movements. I don’t get to ponder over it though. Instantly calmness washes over me, accompanying the ever exultant feelings. My mind turning to mush, I let my hand fall limp in Neal’s and lean my head back, resting it on the back of the seat. The time passes quickly after that. Too quickly than I would like.
Neal’s aura is almost lulling me to sleep when we reach the gates of the Head Realm’s colony. He nudges me, silently encouraging that I get off the cab. He lets go of my hand and climbs out. I follow suit. As Neal pays to the cab driver, I warily look around the dark street in the distance. There is hardly anybody out. That is understandable, considering its already past ten at night.
If Neal is correct about the Occultist visiting the Realm at midnight then we have less than couple of hours to be ready for the showdown. Though there is nothing to get ‘ready’ for. The only thing that I’ll be facing in these two hours will be scalding berating frommy father. He will not be happy about our presence. Mikhail will only contribute to the rebuke. He may be even more obvious about his anger than father.
Now Neal’s hands are busy holding the bag and paying the cab driver, away from me; therefore these negative thoughts flow in a rush. Again, I wonder why we are here. I have a strong feeling that I shouldn’t be here; that my decision to agree with Neal is going to be a mistake. But I keep my mouth shut as we walk to the gates. Neal takes out the entry card and swipes it through the card holder. The gates cling as they open up.
“Calm down, Lichinsky.” Neal says monotonously as we start walking, “It’s going to be fine.”
I quietly sigh in disappointment that he is settling on comforting me with words than physical contact. I don’t say anything. I instead start rubbing the back of my neck as we decrease the distance between us and the mansion. From the corner of my eyes I notice Neal glancing at me with narrowed eyes. But he doesn’t say anything either.
It’s strange that the whole street leading up to the mansion is sequestered. I sense some therians and humans in the houses we pass by, but no one is out. That is a little strange. This whole colony is fenced up and considered one of the safest places in Krasnoyarsk. People taking night walks in this area is not rare because of the sense of security. But I see no one as we follow down the road.For all I know, people are ensuring to remain locked up in their houses. I cannot help but blamethe appointment with the Occultists tonight for that.
As we approach the towering gates of the mansion, that’s when I sense three therians in close vicinity. Of course the therians sense us too. I sense them marching with great speed towards the gates that we’re approaching.
“Incoming.” I whisper, warning Neal.
Neal heavily sighs.
Three wide eyed therians reach the gates in haste and take in mine and Neal’s appearance. I have seen the two of them before as guards here. The third therian is however unfamiliar. We casually walk, ignoring the stupefied expressions on the therians. Neal, looking absolutely calm, moves forward to swipe the card in the card holder so the gates will open. That is it for the therians. They bolt.
They hastily move inwards, towards the mansion. The unknown therian runs for the stairs. The others start raising alarm. I will be laughing if I’m not so petrified myself.
“The vaticinators’ here!” They shout loudly.
I can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at thei
r panicked reaction.
Neal glances at me, eyebrows raised and smirking. He is finding this amusing. His amusement vanishes when a much larger number of therians start piling in the driveway. They flood out through the door of the mansion and climb down the stairs, stopping quite a distance away from Neal and I. Incessant quiet, but urgent, chatter is bursting through the crowd as they gather in the driveway.
My steps falter as completely unfamiliar faces come in view. I quickly do a mental math and conclude that there are about twenty five to thirty unfamiliar therians here. I feel a twinge of apprehension as nobody from the Ninth Realm comes out. Frowning, I warily scout the dubious looking mass of therians that’s moving out. Most of them settle at gawking at Neal with awe.
My steps completely pause on their own accord when I see a familiar face. But it is not the face that I have been anticipating – considering this face doesn’t belong to the Ninth Realm at all.
“…Now this is a surprise.” Says Ethan, smirking humorlessly and moving out of the horde of therains that have gathered.
Completely stunned, I get rooted to the place. Neal is unaffected. He continues to move forward. When he notices me lagging behind, he slows down and extends his hand, wrapping it around my wrist. The action takes me by surprise. But I don’t get time to respond. Neal starts moving again, dragging me along.
Ethan stops when he notices Neal approaching his