by Melinda Hyde
Orin stopped in front of the she-cat and cocked his head to the side. Mallory lifted her own head, gazing directly back into Orin’s eyes, and they remained that way for a beat of time. My heart began to pound in my ears, as I tried to convince myself that I was I was overreacting. So far, Orin hadn’t truly done anything to stir my suspicion. Then, my breath caught in the back of my throat, choking off my windpipe, as I watched Orin affectionately nudge Mallory towards the shadows.
My fingers curled into the wooden doorframe, making my nails bend back from my fingertips. The rest of the panthers trotted along behind them at a distance, but Orin whipped around in one sudden movement. They stopped for a moment, watching him with cautious curiosity. When he turned back to Mallory, his men scattered, each going his own way into the forest.
I smashed the door shut and sank against its frame, trembling with anger and hurt. I was confused and wounded by what I had seen. Worse, I still wasn’t sure what exactly it was that I had witnessed. I was sure the panther I had seen was Orin, but I could have been mistaken. It was so dark out that I could have easily been mistaken. Besides that, no matter what my traitorous mind whispered, nobody had really done anything wrong.
Tears of pent-up frustration leaked from the corners of my eyes. I swiped them away, pressing my face into the palms of my hands, as I tried to put my racing thoughts in check. I told myself that I was still worked up from the fight we had, had earlier that night, and that Orin was still probably on the hunt. It was more likely I was reading things wrong. After all, I knew that my husband loved me, and he wouldn’t be so easily led astray by such a meager wench.
∆ ∆ ∆
I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed up, allowing my thoughts to torture my exhausted mind. Neither did Orin and his pack of panthers return, which added fuel to the fire that already burned inside me. I paced the floor relentlessly, in a feeble attempt to occupy my time. When that grew tiresome, I pulled my long, dark hair over my shoulder and wound the strands into a braid. Then, I was at it again, tracing the same, well beaten path I had followed all night.
It was well into the morning when I finally heard the loud bang of Orin’s fist against the door. I briefly considered leaving the latch in place but decided against it. I reminded myself that I still had no reason to believe that anything sordid had transpired. The bang came again, this time even louder, and I sulked over to open the door.
My eyes were wretchedly swollen from lack of sleep and crying. When the light filtered through the crack in the door, it was unbearably bright and assaulting. I squinted my eyes against the invasion and lifted my hand to shield the brightness away. The inside head began to pound, as if a hammer were crushing into my skull, and I ducked away from the door, moving into the shadows of the room.
I could hear the slap of bare feet against the wooden floor, following me into the cabin, but I wasn’t ready to face Orin, just yet. My emotions were still jumbled in a heap of indecipherable confusion. I didn’t want to act out of rashness—not before I knew the truth of the matter.
I kept my back turned to the group, as I shuffled around the corner into my room. Lance was sleeping peacefully, with his head lolled to the side. I glanced briefly into the crib as I passed by, then continued my course to the bed. I didn’t sink into its welcoming softness, though. Instead, I chose to plop down on the floor beside it, cradling my head in my hands.
The smacking of approaching feet stomped into the room. I set my jaw, forcing down the pessimism that assaulted my mind. If I was lucky, Orin would leave me be, but I wasn’t. Orin stooped down in front of me, running his hand over the hair at the crown of my head. I forced myself to stay still, though I wanted to jerk away from the feel of his touch.
He sat down the rest of the way, crossing his lanky legs, and he pressed his head against mine. “Are you okay, my love?” His voice was as soft and soothing as a melody. “Are you still mad at me for what I said last night?” I didn’t respond; he let out a frustrated sigh, leaning away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I just lost it. You know how I feel about magic, and still, you choose to use it. It irks me that you disregard how I feel, and the promises you made.”
He waited for a reply, but I held my silence. I hadn’t forgotten his angry speech. My swollen wrists ensured that would remember. I self-consciously tugged my sleeves lower, keeping the marks hidden from view, then curled myself tighter against the wall.
From his place in the crib, Lance began to stir. I lifted my head, avoiding Orin’s apprehensive eyes, and peered at the tiny crib that tilted with Lance’s movements. Exhaustion was beginning to set deep in my bones, but I fought to remain lucid. I pushed to my feet, swaying a bit, and I stumbled over to my son. There was a soaking wet patch of spit up running down the front of his gown. I rasped a groan, as I padded to my chest to fetch him some dry clothing.
I could feel Orin’s bulking form trailing behind me, but I paid him no mind. I carefully lifted Lance from his crib and carried him over to my bed. I placed him down, ever so gently, and I worked the soiled material over his head, tossing it to the side. Orin gasped behind me, and though we weren’t touching, I could feel him go rigid.
I froze, all thoughts of my own discomfort fleeing from my mind. In my muddled state of delirium, I had forgotten my own deceitful secret—the one I had so carefully guarded. Slowly—fearfully, I lifted my wide, brown eyes to meet Orin’s. He gazed past me, down at our squirming son, wearing a dubious expression.
He shook his head vigorously in a state of denial, then lifted his finger to point at the mark that sat proudly upon Lance’s shoulder. I didn’t need to see what he was gaping at; I already knew. My mouth went dry, all the moisture evaporating into thin air, as Orin turned his snapping, green eyes on me.
His lips worked soundlessly to articulate his outrage, before he was finally able to find his voice. “Leonia, what is that?” I glanced at the dusty floor. I didn’t need to explain; the meaning was glaringly evident. “I have that same mark, Leonia. It was never there, until you changed me into what I am, now.” The accusation was thick in his words, and there was no defense against what he already knew to be true. “Say something,” he shouted, his hand trembling with rage. “Anything. Tell me that I’m wrong.”
I stared down at my hands, curling them into the coarse fabric of my gown. “I was going to tell you. I really was, but I just didn’t know how.” I knew I was wrong for keeping such a huge secret from him. “I already knew how you would feel about it—about me and your son.” I made sure to emphasize the last word.
A loud, angry roar brought me to attention. I jumped, startled by the frustrated anguish that the sound foretold. I timidly peeked in Orin’s direction, afraid of what I would find but unable to help myself. He forced his fingers through his shaggy, unkept hair, making it stand in choppy tufts. His eyes weren’t on me; they were filled with blazing storms that rolled over my shoulder, projected at the innocent baby wiggling on the bed.
Orin backed away from us, shaking his head, then turned his stony gaze on me. “This is your fault.” He waggled his finger in my face, and lightening flashed behind his pine-green irises. “You couldn’t help yourself. You brought me back, making me into the beast that I am. That was bad enough, but you didn’t stop there. Where will it end, Leonia,” he mused, in a voice dripping with disdain.
Before I could help it, a stream of tears slid from my eyes. I had tried to hold them back, but his words were sharp, cutting me to the core. I searched for the words that would balm the situation, but none came. This was too big of a deal to simply talk it away. Orin let out another cry that registered somewhere between a roar and a growl.
He whipped away from us, kicking the cradle onto its side. It crashed over, spilling the mattress and sheet, but the frame remained intact. It was well-built and study, so it handled the blow with grace. I cringed away from the onslaught of his rage, moving to shield my son. Orin’s features pinched into vicious snarl, which he narrowed on m
e, as his foot crashed into our bedroom door. Several of the planks simultaneously sprang loose, and the bottom hinges came undone.
Orin didn’t stop to acknowledge the damage he had caused. He stormed from the room in an uncontrollable ball of fuming rage. I let him go. I had never seen his so angry as he was in that moment, and I didn’t want to further stoke the coals of his fury.
I could hear the door being snatched ajar in the main room. “Come on,” Orin’s voice thundered.
The sound of shuffling feet filtered through the house. The door crashed shut with a resounding crackle. Silence settled over the house, save for the excited coos coming from my son. I lifted my eyes to find him gumming the back of his fist, observing me through huge, animated eyes. Sadness filled the aching space in my heart, as I wondered what the future would hold for us.
9.Immortal Anger
Lenora
Ieased Aleksandra down into the soft bedding. Her curls fanned out around her, fluffing away from her pale, porcelain face. I repressed a warm, adoring smiled, as I tucked them down behind her ears and pressed the blanket in around her. She snuggled further into the cover, and a sleepy grin twitched on her tiny lips, then disappeared.
I wondered what occupied the dreams of one so young. I couldn’t recall ever being so young and oblivious—so content. I envied her ability to see the world so full of wonder, despite the constant upheaval that marred our lives. Leonia and I had come here to find a place where we could live in peace—where we could find freedom from the convictions of our peers. I scoffed beneath my breath. Looking back, if I had known then what our lives would become, I would have made very different choices.
A clamor broke out in the darkness beyond the mouth of the cave, but I continued to gaze down at the angelic child. She slept through the uproar without a care in the world. She was oblivious to the creatures who jealously hungered for her life’s blood.
Outside, the sounds continued to grow louder. Growls and cries filled the air, but I didn’t move to see what the matter was. I was dreadfully weary. Yet, I knew that no amount of sleep would wash away the constant pull at my reserves. I was tired of the fighting. I was tired of living a hellish, ongoing nightmare of terror. Instead, I chose to block it away, walling in into the deepest recesses of my mind. Perhaps if I chose not to acknowledge the horrific events that were befalling us, they would dissipate, leaving me to live my life in peace.
Even as I childishly allowed my thoughts to coddle me from the truth, it clawed at the edges of my mind, slowly unraveling my naive ponderings. I clung to them, wanting badly for it to be so simple, until a scream, so full of ache that it I could feel the pain bed itself into my own soul, shrilled through the dank, cave air.
I closed my eyes, as the cry came again and again. “Karl.” Her voice trembled brokenly, and sobs mingling with her mindless shrieks.
The cries rapidly came closer, until they rang in my ears. They were painfully loud and filled with excruciating grief. The kind of grief that only accompanied the loss of someone held dear. I glanced down at Aleksandra, wondering how the child could remain so peacefully oblivious.
I shifted my eyes to the black, gaping mouth the led outside, watching as my creatures filed in. Several of them stopped just inside the entrance, struggling to hold a hysterical Izzy at bay. She clawed frantically at the ground, fighting to free herself from her friends’ restraining hands. Her face was washed with dirt and tears, and the silver in her eyes was glazed with a sorrowful sheen.
There was no mistaking what had taken place. Even a fool could have guessed. My eyes darted around the group, confirming what I already knew to be true. Karl wasn’t among their ranks; he wasn’t coming back. He had become another poor soul lost to Orin’s hatred.
I ran my trembling hands up the lengths of my arms, feeling weary of the losses my creatures had needlessly endured. When I could stand the heart wrenching sound of Izzy’s frantic cries no more, I pushed up from the bedding and strode over to where her friends held fast to her thrashing form. They glanced up, questioning me with their sad, uncertain eyes. It seemed they were pleading with me to put an end to the war and alleviate them of their struggles. I didn’t have the answers they were seeking—not yet.
Blue, misty light erupted from the palms of my hands. It wasn’t an overpowering amount of energy. I didn’t need that kind of power for what I was about to do. It circled its way up to my elbows, and I stretched my arms out, placing my hands on the sides Izzy’s head.
Izzy immediately went limp, sagging forward. If it hadn’t been for the hands supporting her weight, she would have crashed down into the hardpacked dirt. The night went instantly still, and fearful reverence filled the cavern.
I turned to my spectators, waving my hand in a dismissive motion. “She sleeps,” I said, my voice coming out low and strained. “For now, her pain has abated. It’s all I could do to help her,” I explained.
I watched as they carried Izzy to bed. Nobody said a word for the remainder of the night. There didn’t seem to be much anyone could say. Change was coming. We couldn’t go on this way. The creatures knew it, and I did, too. When Izzy rose up the next night there would be a reckoning, and, this time, I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t stand in the way.
∆ ∆ ∆
The next day, I woke up, and I ventured just outside the cave. Aleksandra was still in a deep sleep, somewhere lost in the bliss of her dreams. I plopped myself down in the cool grass, bending one of the thin blades between my fingers. The sun was bright and welcoming, beaming down the announcement of a new day.
My thoughts didn’t resonate with the splendor around me. They were dark and worrisome. I knew that once the immortals set out later that night, there would be no going back. It was just as well, though. It was beyond time to put an end to the ongoing madness.
Other thoughts occupied the depths of my mind that morning, as well. I had stayed up, late into the night, considering the options that presented themselves to me. No matter the outcome of the battle, I would ensure no harm came to Aleksandra. I now knew that we couldn’t stay here. It would never be safe, and this was no life for a child.
I absently flicked the grass aside, peering around the clearing. I wasn’t seeing the beauty around me. I was looking back, reliving the memories my sister and I had shared there. The dwindling hope that we would somehow move past our differences had anchored me in place for too long. I knew now that the rift between us had grown too vast to ever be mended. Orin had waltzed into Leonia’s life and changed everything about her. Worse, his presence had changed me, too.
The door to the cabin banged shut with a loud, cracking thump, and I eyed the group that strode purposefully toward the shady wood line. Almost as if he sensed my eyes following his movements, Orin turned his murky, green eyes on me. A smirk curved the contours of his lips, and his eyes snapped dangerously. I narrowed mine back at him. I wasn’t backing down this time. I wouldn’t cower away in the confines of a musty cave—not anymore.
His group was mostly comprised of lean, muscular men. They didn’t seem to notice, or care, that Orin had stopped. They continued on in a steady line, but the figure at Orin’s side had the wheels of my mind spinning. Something was definitely off about what I was witnessing, and I wondered if Leonia’s sanity had completely slipped away.
The slender figure that stood proudly at my sister’s husband’s side was a woman. She had wild coppery red waves that frizzed out around her head. She was almost too slim at the waist but full in the chest and hips. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, and she possessed the same troublesome, green eyes as Orin.
The girl followed Orin’s line of sight, curling her lips back into a nasty sneer. I just raised a brow in response. Lisps of anger trailed from the edges of my mind, but I blocked them away. It was none of my business what went on between Orin and Leonia. Besides, the girl before me was terribly dull in comparison to my sister’s shining beauty.
Orin seemed to notice that I was eyeing his
companion with careful speculation, and he glanced over at her. A shadow of emotion passed over his features before he could conceal it, and that’s when I knew for sure. I glanced over to where my sister was locked away behind the sturdy walls of their home, caring for the child that they had brought into the world.
Orin followed the trajectory of my eyes, and the confident smirk evaporated from his lips. He whipped away from me, and, in midstride, he sank down into the beastly brute he truly was. The girl brought her grungy fingers up, tilting her hand to wave, then turned and followed Orin into the woods.
Inside, Aleksandra began to stir. I could hear the sound of the bedding being tussled, then the tapping of tiny feet stamping across the ground. I took one, last glance at the homely cabin across the way. Then, I stood up, dusting the dirt and grass from my skirts, and I sauntered into the cave. Two tiny, blue eyes lit up when they landed on me, and Aleksandra came totting over on stout, wobbly legs.
The rest of the day passed quickly. I went about the same routine as usual, caring for Aleksandra. The whole while, my nerves sat on end. Though I knew what was soon to come, I was still anxious to see it done. The uncertainty of the events was troubling, because there was no way for me to foresee the outcome.
When the sun sank behind the trees, bathing the land in darkness, my creatures came to life. Most of them took their time rising from their slumber, but the same could not be said for Izzy. Her eyes flew open, and there wasn’t even the faintest trace of humanity left in their depths. The silver that flashed out was brilliant—pure. Her fangs extended down past her lower lip, curving in a slight arc against the flesh beneath.
A case of the jitters came over me, and I shivered in response to the pure, unadulterated hatred that shined from her face. She made a sound that resembled a cat, spitting and hissing to warn off its foe. The sound was low and drawn out, sending chills racing down my spine.
