Hereditary

by Jane Washington

  When I pushed open the door and stumbled into the room, nobody seemed to notice, for which I was grateful. There was a band playing, and a beautiful elven woman singing, her voice husky and low, pulling me further into the room with the sheer beauty of it. Most of the people were dancing, but others were strewn about in dark corners or standing about the edges of the space that had been delegated for the dancers by rows of haphazardly stacked furniture. A man walked past me, his eyes travelling to the slit in my dress, before he paused and stepped towards me. I quickly stepped around him and spotted the back of Cale’s head. I moved toward him, and soon saw Hazen too, sitting on a table pushed up against the wall, one of his legs bent up to rest against the edge. They were talking, but when they saw me they stopped, and I wondered if they continued the conversation in Cale’s head.

  “Hey,” I said, “the other’s are sleeping, where’s Kaylee?”

  “After the little show in the dining hall she went home.” Answered Cale, pulling me down to the couch beside him.

  I stumbled a little on the way down, and had to throw my arm out to prevent falling onto Cale’s lap, accidentally whacking him in the chest.

  “Ow,” he grabbed my arms and manoeuvred me a little more carefully, and then started laughing as he sat back, “how much have you had to drink, little synfee?”

  In response, I shrugged. A pretty brunette girl rounded the other end of the sofa then, plopping down on Cale’s other side and handing him a drink, causing us to all squish up. He took the drink, winking at her as he did, and the look she gave him in return had me smiling. But as they became increasingly wrapped-up in each other, the couch got more and more crowded, and eventually, I extracted myself and slid onto the table beside Hazen, my gaze now riveted to the dancers in the middle of the room.

  “How are they?” he asked quietly.

  “Good,” I answered, not turning away from a particularly stunning fae couple, “better.”

  “And how are you?”

  The question caused me to acknowledge the creeping ugliness that had begun to worm its way back to the front of my mind since leaving Miriam and Rose, and I frowned. The brunette stood and pulled Cale to his feet, dragging him out onto the dance floor.

  “Come on,” I said, sliding off the table and waiting until I was sure I wasn’t going to fall over, “let’s dance.”

  When he didn’t answer, I looked back at him, and saw the refusal on his face. Without giving him a chance to voice it, I grabbed his hand, much like the brunette had with Cale, and pulled him off the table. I had no doubt that he was stronger than me, but he slid easily from his perch, and allowed me to tug him toward the dance floor. Once there, I looked over at the others, suddenly unsure what to do, and Hazen smiled, though it wasn’t a smile that reflected any kind of humour.

  His hand slid around my waist, tugging some of the chiffon of my skirt with it, until it settled low against my spine, and then he pulled me to him, capturing my left hand and settling it on his shoulder, and then taking my right hand lightly into his. It was how the others were dancing, and I decided that since Hazen clearly knew better than me, I’d just leave it up to him. After my first few stumbles, I saw the amusement start creeping into his eyes, and soon it became fairly obvious that there was at least one thing a synfee couldn’t do gracefully.

  Taking this as a serious blight, I began to really concentrate. My brow furrowed as I bit down into my bottom lip, every ounce of my consciousness focused on where Hazen was placing his feet, the direction his body was poised to move in next. This didn’t stop me from spinning the wrong way and backing hard into the man behind me, my teeth biting too hard into the lip that I had been worrying, drawing blood. Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes, and Hazen shook his head, nonplussed. He dropped my right hand and grasped me around the waist, lifting me slightly and tugging me closer, his head ducking down to my ear.

  “Stand on my shoes.”

  He lowered me, and I obediently let my feet settle to rest on his own, as he slung his arm around my back, holding me there securely while his hand re-captured mine.

  “See,” he smiled, “no need for tears.”

  I nodded, my tongue darting out to cover the wound on my lip, drawing away the blood, and his eyes suddenly narrowed, drawn to the movement as if I had done something provocative. I didn’t even realise until then that I had. I opened my mouth, prepared to say almost anything to save myself from the sudden heat in those dark eyes, and the answering burn that had no right springing up in my chest, causing my mouth to go dry. Unfortunately, nothing came out, and the hand on mine tightened momentarily, before drawing my arm behind his neck. He was suddenly closer, his hands hot on the curve of my waist, the position of them and the feel of his flexing grip reminding me of how easy it would be for him to lift me again, until his lips were close enough to press against mine.

  “You’re cheating, little synfee.”

  My head snapped to the side, just in time to see Cale steer his own dance partner away. He threw me a dazzling smile over her shoulder, clearly showing off his superior dance skills, and I rolled my eyes. I continued watching Cale, desperately trying to keep my mind blank, until I heard Hazen’s voice in my head.

  Always lost, beautiful Bea.

  And then he was drawing away. I stood there quietly as he left the room, and then moved back to the table, sliding onto the surface and drawing my legs up to my chest, turning my head to the dark window that showed nothing to me of the outside world. After almost an hour of sitting alone with my torturous thoughts, Cale appeared again at my side, drawing me from the table, his eyes blessedly full of laughter. The earlier effects of alcohol were beginning to wear off by now, but Cale’s wide smile was infectious, and I welcomed the break from my own thoughts.

  I spotted the brunette that he had been dancing with earlier, in the arms of another man, both of them laughing hysterically, and when she looked over at me, I was relieved to see her winking at Cale. I didn’t want him ruining his night just because I was miserable. We danced song after song, sometimes switching partners, sometimes grabbing whatever drinks we could get our hands on to fuel us, without stopping. I ended up having fun, though the roiling blackness lapping at my mind was never far from my awareness.

  At some point after Cale and the brunette had disappeared, one of the men that I had danced with grabbed my hand and drew me out of the room. I didn’t see where we went, and found myself trying to recall his face as we stumbled down a flight of stairs and broke out of a door into the night air.

  “I’m drunk,” I muttered stupidly, feeling the grass beneath my bare feet, and his eyes hot on me. “I think I should go to bed.”

  In answer, he pushed me up against the door we had just come through, his hands grabbing at my dress, his breath on my neck. He didn’t smell like alcohol.

  “I’ve been watching you,” he whispered, “you’re deliberately enchanting me, but I don’t care.”

  I felt his tongue against my skin then, and tried to push him away, but he held me there easily with one hand as his other fumbled with my skirts.

  “Shh… it’s ok, beautiful girl. You won’t even remember it, I promise. But I need to feel you before you fall asleep.”

  Sleep, the word sounded so good, and I began to notice how tired I was, how heavy my eyelids felt.

  “Sleep.” I muttered, as he pushed my skirts around my waist.

  I woke up in the garden, curled beneath an apple tree, a few spindly roots having ventured from the earth to embrace me. Two of them, like dirty brown serpents, wound about my calves, and another was tangled in my hair, the end dropping over my cheek. I swore, quickly checking to make sure the connection was still closed, and then noticed Rose propped up beside me, giving me a strange look.

  “Hey,” I grumbled, my voice thick with sleep, “how’d I get down here?”

  She shrugged, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth, before her face fell back into the same expression.

  “What is i
t?” I asked her, trying to sit up, and casting a look over her white dress, which was now smudged with dirt, “Oh my god Rose, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it, I promise.”

  “Don’t be silly, it’s just dirt, the housekeepers will take care of it. It’s your neck, there’s something on it, I’m trying to figure out what it is. You didn’t get into my mother’s paints last night did you?”

  “I don’t think so. The last I remember was dancing with Cale.”

  It took me a few moments to urge the tree roots to release me without the connection open, and then I sat up gingerly, slapping a hand to my neck.

  “I can’t feel anything.”

  She frowned then, and inched closer, her hand creeping toward my neck before drawing backwards.

  “I think you should show this to someone.”

  “What does it look like?”

  “It’s a drawing. I think, but it doesn’t seem to be on the surface. It looks like it’s beneath your skin, like a tattoo.”

  “Strange.” I pushed to my feet, and had to check myself as a wave of debilitating nausea swept over me.

  My throat began to burn, and I frantically grappled for my glamor… only to find it still in place.

  “Oh god,” I groaned, doubling over and clutching my stomach, “I have to go. I have to go to Nareon. Can you get Cale for me?”

  She was gone so quickly I had begun to wonder if my brain were moving in slow motion, and by the time she came rushing back with Cale, both of them were out of breath. They helped me out to the front gate, where Hazen was already waiting, and then Cale went off to find a horse. It still felt as if only a minute had passed when Cale came back and Hazen handed me up to him.

  “Wait.” Hazen tightened his hold on me, almost yanking me back to the ground, and I felt him sweeping my hair aside, his eyes boring holes into my neck, “when the fuck did this happen?”

  Nobody said a thing, and eventually I was forced to speak up, though I had been trying to keep my mouth closed and my teeth clenched against the pain and lingering nausea.

  “Last night.”

  He swore again, and reached over to his sister, pulling away the thin summer shawl that had draped her shoulders without a word, and wrapping it around my neck.

  “Don’t let Nareon see that, whatever you do.” He growled.

  I nodded mutely, wanting to ask questions though the urgency to get to Nareon was strong, and I again let Hazen pass me off to Cale, who helped me easily into the saddle behind him. The ride to Nareon’s land was almost unbearably long, and when we got there, Cale adamantly refused to go any further.

  “My father needs me,” he said suddenly, beginning to yank the horse around, “I can feel it. I have to go back.”

  I took the reins from him stubbornly and pressed the horse forwards, the compelling urge to run away not present with me this time as it had been on my first visit. We had just reached the edge of the vast, empty wasteland, and I ignored Cale’s confusion, pushing the horse forward until we crossed over the border and found ourselves in Nareon’s kingdom.

  “Weird.” Muttered Cale, as the tension that had seized him began to fade out of the broad set of his shoulders.

  A group of soldiers rushed over to us, and I recognised the tall, golden-blond man that Nareon had called Grenlow.

  “Lady Beatrice.” He said, ignoring Cale, “the King has been waiting for you. Follow me.”

  We both slid off the horse, and one of the men darted forward to capture the reins, leading it away as Grenlow strode off.

  “Looks like you had the synfee charm after all.” Cale muttered, low in my ear, before straightening and following after the other man.

  I swallowed the urge to laugh and hurried after them, unable to help my admiration as I saw the inside of the beautiful castle again. Grenlow led us around the bubbling fountain and through a maze of corridors to a guarded room full of a random assortment of equipment. The two guards nodded, and I looked doubtfully at the door in-between them, the multiple steel locks causing uneasiness to bubble within me. Fortunately, there was another door off to our right, and this was the one Grenlow led us through. The room beyond was completely empty, but for a metal chair bolted to the middle of the floor, complete with heavy silver chains and shackles secured to the armrests and the two front legs.

  Cale arched a brow, taking a step closer to me, his stance protective. I took that moment to better examine Grenlow, who had moved to stand beside the door. His expression was peaceful, maybe even a little bored, and his hands were folded casually before him. He was fair-featured beneath the golden synfee gleam, his hair obviously blond, his eyes a light golden-blue. I waited for him to do or say something, but he remained motionless, and a few minutes of tense silence later, Nareon strode into the room. My heart did a strange, nervous flip as I saw him and the memories of our last encounter flashed through my mind. I had put this off for too long, and I knew it.

  “Hello again, little spitfire,” his golden eyes were almost warm, and he swept forward and grabbed my chin, tilting my face up to his, examining something, “you pushed it too far, didn’t you?”

  I nodded and he sighed, gesturing to the seat, “very well, sit down.”

  I blinked, looking at the seat and then back to him, speaking again through clenched teeth, aware that my voice sounded strange.

  “I’d really rather not.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Stopping you will be next to impossible once you lift your glamor. A starved synfee is not something that I want loose in my castle.”

  He looked to Cale then, and for a moment, I could have sworn that I saw real amusement flash beneath his faint smirk.

  “You’re friend is here. He’ll make sure nothing happens to you, I’m sure.”

  Moving towards the chair, I decided that it had been a very good idea to bring Cale here, and I tried to focus on him while Nareon bent and began securing my legs. The slit in the skirt of my dress slipped to the side as I sat down, revealing my left leg up to an indecent length, and I saw those grey eyes travelling up the exposed limb as he locked my ankle into place, his expression once again cool. Thankfully, he didn’t comment on it, or the dirt stains marring the lovely white material, and was soon positioning my arms along the armrests, dropping my wrists into the silver shackles and winding the chains about my forearms and biceps. Dimly, I realised that the silver tint of the metal was familiar, and that I had seen it before, lining some of the Academy’s buildings. This whole chair must be resistant to magic. Did that include my synfee compulsion?

  Once he was done, he stepped back and reviewed his work, apparently pleased with himself.

  “You don’t think this is a little overboard?” Cale asked as his eyes touched upon the light-blue shawl wound about my neck.

  “Not at all.” Nareon replied languidly, bending to brush a few flakes of mud from my cheek, “now drop your glamor sweetheart.”

  I tested the strength of my cuffs, suddenly glad for the solid metal now that the moment had come for me to actually expose them all to my destructive hunger. Nareon waited patiently, standing right in front of me, everything about him calm and patient, while Cale—for once—seemed to be vibrating with tension. Taking a deep breath, and trying to mentally prepare myself, I reached for my glamor and withdrew it, my whole body immediately heaving upward, straining against the chains as a violently fierce urge swept through me. I knew my eyes were wild, and could see a faint golden glow emanating from that leg that peeked forth from the skirt of my dress. I’d never seen a synfee glow before, and I didn’t think that it was something I would be proud of, once I came back to myself. As it was, I could only concentrate on one thing. I needed to kill.

  Nareon had stepped closer, blocking the others from my sight, but I could still smell them. I could feel the warmth of their vitality, the energy, the life, pulsing beneath their skin. I didn’t care so much though, because Nareon was closer, his energy stronger, his heartbeat louder. A feral sort of sn
arl slipped from my mouth, and Nareon knelt down, his hands covering mine.

  “Easy, spitfire. Easy.”

  The cuffs had begun to dig into my wrists, and the silver chains were straining, I could feel the frail strength of the chair that had only moments ago seemed so secure, and I could feel it vibrating with the strain I was putting on it. I looked back to Nareon, and felt his hands slip up my arms, one of them settling on my shoulder, pushing me back, and unlike the chair, his strength was unwavering.

  Why the chair then? I wondered.

  His other hand slipped up the back of my neck, burying into the tangle of hair at the base of my skull, tilting my head up to his mouth, and just like that, my worry disappeared. I pulled deep as he kissed me, the energy flooding through me fast enough to make my head spin, and Nareon pressed me harder to the chair, his tongue pushing between my lips to deepen the kiss. I pulled again, drawing more of him into me, and he made a growling sound, confusing me as to whether I had hurt him or not. And then, suddenly, he tore his mouth away.

  I whimpered at the loss, and he released my head, swiping his thumb across my lower lip, where my cut from the night before had re-opened. For a moment, he looked as if he would kiss me again, his eyes wide and feral with some emotion—possibly the same hunger as mine—and then he stepped back.

  “Your glamor,” he reminded me, his voice rough.

  I felt like some kind of animal, my mind intent on draining him dry and then moving on to the other two, but the longer Nareon stared at me, the more I began to slip back to myself. I didn’t know how long it took me to pull out of the predatory need that had me in thrall, but when I did, I wrenched my glamor back down, and somewhere, someone sighed in heavy relief. It might have even been me. Nareon waited until my glamor was back in place and then he turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door. Both Cale and me cringed, but Grenlow jumped forward and began freeing me from the chair. Easing my hands out of the shackles, I noticed that my wrists were raw. A few more minutes in the chair and the skin would have broken, and I would have started bleeding. I looked to Cale, shame burning hot on my face, and he held his arms out for me, his expression achingly sympathetic.