by J J Marshall
“Love you, Sis!” he called from the front door, slamming it behind him.
Hanna was alone at last. Alone with her thoughts and pounding head. Birds chirped in the background and somewhere outside Mr. Norbert, their eighty-year-old neighbor, stood yelling at Hansel, the neighborhood alley cat, to get off his property. Hanna winced as she raised her hand to her head. The pain increased in her temples as the edges of her vision began to blur.
Oh, fuck! She shook her head, trying to refocus her vision as the pain continued to intensify. The edges of her vision grew darker, tunneling until she could see no more.
*
The air was dry and hot as Hanna struggled to breathe. Her throat was raw as if she had been screaming when an intense thirst for water overtook her senses. She stood in a large ornate study, overlooking the town houses as light crept across the dry barren land. Footsteps echoed behind Hanna, startling her as she turned to see where they were coming from. The boy. He was there in the very same room as her, looking sad and worried.
“I’m so sorry, Hanna,” he whispered as he reached her. This confused her. Why was he sorry?
“We have to go. This is not what I envisioned for us. It’s not safe for you to stay here. We need to go now before they find us! We need to—”
Her temples were red-hot as the pain continued and then suddenly it was all over. Blinking, the scene before her began to fade as her reality set in. She was alone in her kitchen, once more, with a cold plate of food. She sighed, and pushed from the table, wincing as sharp pains ebbed up her arm. She raised her sleeve, and watched as red shapes plagued her skin.
I do not have time for all this shit, she thought. Grabbing her bookbag, she headed for the door, slamming it behind her as she left for school.
******
Six
Orian
Pacing back and forth in his chamber, Orian exasperatedly ran his fingers through his hair as his heart and mind hammered. He was screwed. So incredibly, stupidly screwed. There were no books on how to handle this. Hanna had seen him, there was no way she hadn’t. She had looked straight at him and froze. He had broken the bond. That had helped, right? And yet, for a brief moment, he was pleased with himself.
None of that matters! he reminded himself. You condemned her to death. He rubbed at his eyes, pushing his palms into them until all he could see was darkness. You did this to her, now you have to save her. Orian’s mind whirled as he chastised himself repeatedly for his stupid decisions.
Nothing was going as he had planned. First with Selection Day, even though he had chosen the Consortium, he really wanted to run. But his death or hers? He knew what he wanted to do, but in that moment before the Council, he had changed his mind to save himself. He had chosen himself. And now as his decision weighed down on him, his charge, the girl he had condemned to death, had seen him. How careless could he be? Orian felt as if the weight of the world was pushing him down as he knelt into a crouched position, pushing his palms harder into his sockets. His eyes burned, his arms burned, everything hurt…but he deserved it. Pain pelted in his stomach like a baseball to a bat as he fell to the ground in pain.
Something was not right, he could feel it. Though Orian couldn’t place his finger on it. His Mark had grown slightly but then had begun to fade almost as quickly as it had appeared. Nausea swept over him as a sheen blanket of sweat pebbled his skin. He had never seen anything like it. Hell, he had never felt anything like this. Everything surrounding Hanna was going askew. Why?
What the hell?
Closing his eyes, Orian bit into his tongue as he used his forearms to propel himself across the floor to his bed. The pain in his stomach intensified as he pushed himself up against his dresser. He was hot and yet cold as his clothing clung to him, drenched in sweat.
Fuckin ‘ay. Gritting his teeth, he pushed to his feet, wobbling as he stood. The room around him spun as the burning in his arm localized on his Mark. The dark knots that twisted around his forearms, and up his biceps into his chest, were fading quickly, sizzling before his very eyes. Orian’s eyes widened from shock as he watched his Mark slowly fade away and wondered: why? Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. He wiped them hastily away.
What the hell is happening to me? Something is wrong…very, very wrong.
Closing his eyes, Orian breathed slowly, intaking the aroma of freshly cut flowers that drifted through the open windows, as he tried to keep himself from vomiting. Wrapping his arms around his torso, he sank back to the floor, curling into a ball.
What the fuck am I going to do? He silently pleaded as the pain overtook his body and his eyes were greeted by darkened abyss.
I will find you, Hanna. I will save you.
*
Orian’s heart pushed against his rib cage, each beat harder than the last as his feet crashed against the smooth castle floors. He had to see his grandfather. He would surely know what to do.
Mercurial was the oldest Elder in Partheon. He would surely have some idea on Orian’s Mark. Orian winced at the thought of his Mark. Pushing his legs as hard as they would go, he raced through empty corridor after empty corridor until he came up to the Old Halls, where each of the Originals lived.
Court had been very generous to the Elders, against his father’s will, but that was something he didn’t want to think about. If his father or Karsten found out about his disappearing Mark… No, he would not think of such things. Mercurial would fix him. He had to, right?
Will he even help me? Has this ever happened before? What if it hasn’t? Orian shook his head, forcing the negative thoughts away. His arm flared again as Orian bit back the yelps that threatened to spill from his mouth. Stilling, he came to a large black door adorned with the family insignia in black metal: its twists and turns had always looked like black snakes to him. An odd symbol for a family crest, he thought as he remembered the stories of Eden. He raised his hand, tracing the cool dark metal beneath his fingertips, when the door opened.
Standing before him was The Skeletal Man, dressed in long dark navy robes. He wore no hood, nothing to shade his brittle, aged face or piercing yellow eyes. Orian shifted uncomfortably from where he stood. Looking him up and down, Mercurial grunted as he stepped back. A sign of approval or dismay? Orian didn’t know. Silently, Mercurial waved him into his chamber, gently closing the door behind them. Orian’s heart beat faster as his stomach dropped. Nerves washed through his entire body as the chilled droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead. Fuck.
“Are you going to tell me why you interrupted my slumber, or would you rather I guessed?” Mercurial asked coolly. Orian gulped but nodded quietly, taking a seat on a white plush sofa. The suite-like room was lit with only candlelight, as the flames flickered and danced their shadows across the room. A sweet aroma of faint lavender and honey filled Orian’s nostrils. He could feel his muscles relaxing.
“Are there any records throughout our history on the Mark of the Angels disappearing?” Orian gritted out. Shutting his eyes, he clenched his jaw shut trying to block out the pain. Silence greeted Orian as he mustered up the strength to open his eyes and watch his grandfather’s reaction. Mercurial’s eyes narrowed as his thinning brows furrowed, he stared off into the distance, raising a long slim finger up to his chin, silently tapping at it while he thought.
“I have never heard of a Mark disappearing,” Mercurial admitted. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason, sir.”
“So, you interrupted my sleep to asking me a hypothetical question for no reason?” His grandfather’s tone was growing colder by the second. Sighing, Orian gestured for the Skeletal Man to take a seat next to him as he rolled back his sleeve to reveal his arm. White smoke rose into the air as Orian’s mark burned before their very eyes, eating slowly away at his milky flesh.
Grasping his grandson’s arm, Mercurial pulled him forward, taking Orian off-guard as he studied the Mark. Mercurial’s yellow eyes widened as he looked up and back down at the disap
pearing mark, as his mouth formed into a thin grim line.
“My God, boy, w-what have you done?”
Orian flinched as his grandfather’s long, claw-like nails dug at his flesh. How dare he accuse Orian of anything! Clutching his wrist, Orian yanked his arm back from the Skeletal Man, cradling it to his chest. His grandfather was scared. He had never seen such fear in Mercurial once in his life…until now.
“Can you do anything?” he asked nervously. “Can it be fixed? Can we make it stop?”
“I…I don’t know,” Mercurial replied, shifting his eyes toward the floor. “I’ve never seen this before, Orian. Does your father know?”
“Fuck no.” Mercurial snapped his head up, meeting Orian’s gaze.
“Watch your tongue, boy!” Mercurial hissed. “Remember who it is you speak to. I may be flesh and blood, but I am an Elder, and you will mind your manners whilst you speak to me.”
Orian remained silent. He should have apologized for his manners, that was the princely thing to do. But, in that instance, he didn’t care for royal ways.
Orian turned on his heel, feeling his anger bubble beneath the surface as he made his way to the chamber door.
“Orian,” Mercurial called after him. Orian stopped and turned to face the aging man. “I will try to help you. I will look into this. But you must hide this from your father and everyone else in the meantime. You hear?”
Slowly, Orian nodded. He was going to be helped. Though there was no solution for his dilemma, the Skeletal Man would help. Relief washed over him as his tensed shoulders slouched slightly and he was finally able to breathe.
“I can do that. Thank you,” he replied. “Goodnight, Grandpa.” Quietly, Orian departed back into the chilled halls. Tomorrow he would leave for the Academy, and he had much work to do beforehand.
*
Orian stood in the castle courtyard, waiting for his brother to see him off. Karsten had promised for years that he would escort him to the Academy, and that’s just what he intended to do. The day was still young and the air crisp, as it bit at Orian’s exposed flesh, making him wish he had packed heavier clothing, but that was of no use now.
Taking one last look around the courtyard, Orian relished the view of the chambermaids busily working, hanging clean linens, and planting flowers around the gray stone walls that kept wandering eyes out. He would miss the grandeur, the elegance, and everything that came with being prince. In the academy he would just be Orian, not prince, nothing but himself. Although the thought was foreign to him, he was excited to see what it would be like to be treated like everyone else.
A large hand clasped his shoulder, sucking the warmth into Orian as he turned to see Karsten standing beside him.
“Nervous?” he asked, as if he could read Orian’s thoughts. Orian smiled and nodded.
“To be honest, a bit. But I’m more so ready to get my team and go to Earth.”
******
Seven
Henry
Henry knew his time was near. He was going to be deployed soon on a high rank mission for the Elders. Earth would be theirs for the taking. He was honored that the Elders and the king had beckoned him to the Throne Room to bestow such as task. He smiled at the memory.
“Muster up a team to take with you. The Midland is dying and honestly, I’m not sure how much longer we have before we too, perish. I have faith in you McAlister,” the king stated firmly. “Make the Midland proud.”
Henry had already decided on his team. The Consortium needed the best, he just wasn’t sure how to break it to Karsten that he would be his boss during his time in the field. Henry had watched Karsten train in the Consortium, before their romantic night together. He was a strong fighter, quick on his feet. And if memory served him right, he was lean. Chiseled in muscle.
Though much younger than the general. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he remembered other aspects of the prince. He wished it could happen again, but that was unlikely. And shocked as he had been his first time with the prince, he knew it was right. That he was meant to be with him.
Pacing through his own chambers, he thought of what his next move would be. Maybe telling Karsten was for the best, or was it? Maybe taking charge of the younger prince would be better? Show him the ropes, corrupt his mind instead?
Walking over to his wardrobe, Henry pulled out his belongings and began to pack a bag. He would be leaving the day after tomorrow, and he would need to take a team with him to Earth. Fledglings, more or less. Newbies were disposable. His team would consist of himself, a commander and two fledglings. At least then, if something went awry, he would have an experienced partner to finish the job. He remembered when not so long ago, he was one. It would be a daunting task, but one he could surely handle.
Shaking the thoughts from his brain, Henry continued to pack until his ride to the Consortium arrived. Hours passed until anyone showed up and, by then, the sun had begun to set, sending rays of darkened sunlight through the slats of the window panes. Shadows danced around the room as Henry took one last look at his chamber. He smiled fondly and left.
*
The ride to the Consortium was short, but Henry was anxious all the while. Perhaps he should have walked. Partheon’s marketplace was beautiful. Gnawing at the inside of his cheek, Henry’s thoughts raced as he watched out his side window. Would this be the last time he saw Partheon? Part of him longed for the Ethereal Mountains…for home. He never missed being away from duty. But the travel called to him on a deeper level. He longed for it. He sighed as his ride slowed, bringing the Consortium into view. It’s vast structure and many windows always seemed so hauntingly beautiful to him. This is where he would live until he could go to Earth. Sighing, he handed some cash to the driver and retrieved his suitcase.
“Thank you again!” he called waving as his ride sped into the distance.
Here we go.
Crouching down, Henry pulled his suitcases up with ease and began his ascend towards the luxurious foyer that awaited him. As he reached the top, he turned back taking in the view of the busy streets below, memorizing them. If he never returned to the Midland, he wanted to make damn sure he could remember what it looked like before he left.
Fuck this, he thought as he picked his suitcase back up and walked towards the front doors. Only a few more months and he would be free to do as he wished. Only a few more months and the humans would all be dead and he would be free of his duties to the king.
Grasping the golden knobs, Henry gasped as the chilled metal bit at his skin. With a twist of his wrist, the latch sprung free opening to the familiar foyer he had grown accustomed to. Large cathedral-like ceilings towering over him, painted in the stories of their forefathers. Stories of war and bloodshed, demons and angels, life, and death. Gold crown molding lined the room as the candlelight from the crystal chandeliers danced and twinkled off them. Light marbled flooring lay beneath Henry’s feet, reminding him of the palace and the expensive tastes of the king.
Home sweet home. Henry thought, as he dropped his bags. Someone else would come get them. All he needed to do was check in. He smiled as his ears picked up the familiar chirp of a female voice chattering away to another guest, likely a newbie. He followed the sound of the voice until he stopped at a large oak desk. Moving forward, he leaned with one arm against the desk. Belle. She was always a sight for sore eyes and his favorite person to flirt with. A time or two the two of them were known to have relations, though she was much older than he. Time had been good to her, with little sign of aging.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Hello, my little Belle,” he cooed. The shimmer of pink hued Belle’s milky cheeks as her eyes met his own.
“Hendrix McAlister,” she nearly whispered, rising for her chair, cupping his hand with her own. “I didn’t know you were back in Partheon. I thought you were away on some secret mission for the Elders.”
“If it was a secret mission, Belle, then how would you know about it?”
She smiled, casting
her eyes to the ground and shook her head.
“Fair point. So, are you here to stay?” Henry smiled this time. Belle was always an eager little thing. He knew the meaning behind her words, and for the first time, he felt confused about her. He liked her, sure, but Karsten had opened his eyes and mind to a new world. And he wasn’t sure which world he belonged in.
“I’m afraid not,” he replied back. Disappointment flooded her face as she slowly pulled away. He knew the cold shoulder well, and although it stung a bit to get it from Belle, he knew he couldn’t lead her on. Not until he knew what exactly he wanted. He had things to figure out. Tapping away at computer keys Henry could not see, Belle spoke, never looking back to meet his gaze.
“You’re all set, General,” she said coolly, handing him his room key. “Enjoy your stay and do let us know if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” he muttered as he took the key and turned away. The first thing he wanted to do when he got to his room was run a long, hot shower. There was nothing like settling into his new home like a long hot shower. He nearly sighed at the happy thought.
He had his orders from the king already and it would be a few hours before he met with his new team to discuss the mission. Corridor after corridor passed Henry as he neared his destination, anticipation sinking in. His legs slowed as he came upon two figures adorned in white, busily speaking in hushed tone in the middle of the hall. The king and…Karsten.
Henry’s heart jerked for joy and then sank as the two men turned to face him, realizing they were no longer alone. Blood rushed into his face, blushing his cheeks, becoming warm to the touch.
“Ah, General Hendrix McAlister,” King Irisi greeted coolly. “I look forward to our meeting in the next few hours. I do hope you come prepared with ideas.”
