Half a million? The settlement doesn’t seem large enough to fit so many people. It’s also strange that there is only one Market here. It’s enormous, but still. “Where are we going?”
“To the Square. It’s time for the Sage’s story.”
We make our way over to the Square, which turns out to be an outdoor amphitheater. Benches are carved into the rock faces and circle a massive flat rock in the center. People are already wedged in, leaving nothing but standing room for the stragglers. In such an enclosed space and surrounded by rock, the sound of thousands of voices is like a long and never-ending roar. One by one the voices fade and heads turn toward the stage. It’s like being in a movie theater – everyone’s attention is elsewhere until the lights dim and the previews come on.
Our front row seats give me an unobstructed view of an elderly woman making her way onto the stage. Her white hair is fastened into a loose braid that trails down her back. Her graying skin is covered in deep wrinkles. Her long white dress drags across the smooth rock as she takes one grueling step after another.
“For millennia we have gathered at this very place. Celebrating our lands … our people. I thank you for selecting me, a single sage of many, for our monthly jamboree. It is my great honor to address each of you on this wonderful night in Pensatore.”
I lean towards Damon, whispering as softly as I can, “What is this exactly?”
“Shut up and pay attention,” Damon huffs, clearly annoyed with me. The sage begins to speak again.
“At the dawn there was but one realm that was home to many factions of Lore.” The old woman paces slowly from side to side, her eyes closed as though lost in deep thought. “Over the years the yearning for power became too much and war was unleashed. The battle for supremacy began. The clashes rocked and devastated the mother realm, tearing it apart. To keep the realm and each race from utter annihilation, each Watcher created a new home for their chosen people. That day the witches’ realm of Strega was born.”
I glance around, more confused than I was just minutes ago. Everyone is clapping and cheering. Was that a whistle? Is this the Pensatore version of a bedtime story?
“Strega is our home, our sanctuary. Every witch and warlock is connected to her through fire, earth, air, water, and spirit. With our power fueled by the land, only elementals existed at the new dawn. But that is not where our story ends – rather, it is where Pensatore begins. For what was one clan would soon become two. Our past may have been forgiven but it was not forgotten. Magic was no longer limitless. It was no longer wielded without consequence. As penance for the abuse of power and near destruction of the mother realm, our power now came with a price. And the price was power itself.
“More and more witches fell into temptation and ignored the lessons that had been learned. Because of their actions they lost their right to wield magic. Those still possessing their powers deemed the others as unworthy. Those who lost their abilities were treated as slaves. For what good were they if they did not carry the gifts of the realm? Witches to the core, gifted or not, the magicless refused to serve their brethren and as one they banded together and left their homes. Leaving the magic wielders to reside alone in what is now known as Rovente.
“Seeking a new life of equality, the magicless struggled to adapt to their new life. Without their gifts to aid them they had to invent new ways to survive. The elementals relied on their powers but the new clan of Pensatore met their challenge with strength of mind, strength of body and perseverance of soul. Years passed, new generations were born, and Pensatore became a force within the realm.
“One glorious day, magic returned to the children of Pensatore. The people of our clan had earned back their right to use magic. But this magic was different. It was not one fueled by the land, but one born from strength of mind and body. Today our clan still stands true. Magic still comes with a price but hard lessons were won and power does not determine our worth, but instead enriches our lives!”
As soon as the sage stops her speech, people started to filter out, us included. I wedge my way into the aisle, oblivious to how long it takes for Damon and Emmy to do the same.
At first everything is orderly. People are patiently waiting in line, letting others go ahead of them every so often. Then there’s screaming. Running. Pushing. Shoving. Emmy calls out my name, but I can’t see her over the stampede of people rushing all around me.
“Violet,” Emmy and Damon scream together, trying to get my attention.
I barrel my way towards them, ramming my shoulder into whoever can’t or won’t get out of my way fast enough. At first the screams sounded more like confusion – as though this person is only screaming because the person next to them is. But then, suddenly, they begin to sound terrified. And I have no idea why. I don’t care. I need to get to Emmy. She hadn’t been that far from me just moments ago. I don’t know if it just seems far now because of the mass of people or if she’s being shuffled farther from me by the crowd. Either way, Damon is with her. Not that it will do much good. I was bigger than him at 12. What could he possibly do to protect her from whatever is causing these people to go crazy?
The people closest to me stop, standing still to stare wide-eyed to the entrance of the Square. I follow their gaze and my head cocks to the side as I try to decipher what I’m seeing. There are two men standing in the archway, shadows of people of the ground at their feet. They both have on dark colored robes but their hoods are down. One of the men has a blade in each hand. I squint through the darkness. They aren’t blades. They look like ice. Instead of his hands, there are long – probably about two feet in length - icicles. He slashes them at anyone who gets close enough to be in the damage path.
The second man has only one weapon – a whip doused in fire. The flames aren’t red as they should be, but black. Small puffs of smoke filter off of it as he snaps it about, lashing out at those near him. These so called weapons aren’t weapons, it’s their magic. Fire and Ice.
The shadows of the people on the ground don’t move and I know it’s because they can’t. Because they aren’t alive. Not anymore. “Emmy!” I tear off in the other direction, looking desperately for my sister. The air cracks as the whip makes contact with something but I don’t dare spend the time to look back and see what the man hit. “Emmy!”
Most of the people here have stopped screaming and running. They, like the small group that was around me, have frozen and simply stare up at the top of that hill. The cracks grow louder. There are moans and wet slurping noises, but I don’t look back.
Finally, I spot Damon and run towards him. There are five others standing next to him, creating a circle despite being crammed in row upon row of seats. A fiery black whip slashes out in front of me, making me stop dead in my tracks. Someone says my name in a creepy sing-song like voice. I dart over a row of benches as soon as the whip is drawn back for another strike. Are these two people after me or is it sheer dumb luck that this is happening again? “Emmy!”
Damon is just in front of me, his sword drawn, his knees bent as though ready to fight off these men. He’s not going after them, instead it seems he is taking his stance right here. Defending Emmy. I glance at the others, noticing immediately that they all wear the black leather of a soldiers. I hadn’t realized just how important Em and I are to Maddox until this moment. There’s a spark of confusion as to why, but I swallow it down. Damons. Not one, but many. Six of him to be exact. They are the ones circling my sister. I shake my head, knowing that this isn’t an illusion. It has to be his power, somehow he is able to duplicate himself. I barrel through them and find Emmy in the center of the circle.
Tears streak down her cheeks and her arms circle her torso, holding herself. “What’s happening?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” Knowing the direction from which the two men are coming, I plant myself between them and her. If they get through the Damons then they will have me to deal with. My power surfaces making my fingertips tingle.
Cra
ck, crack, crack. Over and over. There are screams as people start to wake up out of their moment of disbelief that someone is attacking them, and start to scatter like cockroaches. From the small hole between the Damons, I can see that none of them are fighting back. These people are more like Emmy than they are me. Lovers not fighters. How long will the soldiers or Commanders allow these men to charge through their clan? Where are they? They should be here by now.
“Violet,” one of the men says again. It’s definitely not coincidence. This is bad. Really, really bad. They are killing innocent people to get to me while I’m hiding behind some teenage boy who is more likely to stab himself with that sword than them.
Emmy grabs at my arm as though she knows what I’m going to do before even I do. I tug free. Lincoln will be here soon enough, he’ll bring more soldiers with him. It’ll be fine. I just need to stall for a few minutes.
I push past two of the Damons. He hisses his anger and grabs at me, but I don’t let that stop me. I push more power to the surface, allowing the lightning within me to stretch wide against the dark sky. Thunder cracks loud, but the two men do not alter their course. “You wanted me. Well here I am!”
Ice extends his makeshift blades longer, until the tip is not even a foot away from my nose. The whip snaps again, hitting the cobblestone near my feet.
“Who are you?” I ask. “Did someone send you here?” I grit my teeth, realizing how stupid of a question that is. Of course someone sent them, just like someone sent the ones before too.
Bodies litter the ground. Each one covered in slashes or with large, gaping holes in their bodies. Blood speckles the light brown stone. They seem oblivious to it, they neither savor nor care that they are stepping over bodies of actual people that they just slaughtered. “What do you want with me?”
They snarl in unison and take another step forward. I should zap their asses. I should. But they can’t talk if they are dead. And if they don’t talk then I’ll never know who sent them.
Damon takes the choice from me and pushes me hard enough that I fall to the ground. My right hip throbs as it slams into the stony ground. I look up in time to see him slash with his sword. The man with icicles for hands doesn’t have time to defend before the Damon’s blade cuts deep into his chest. Inch by inch, the ice melts until no magic remains. He falls to his knees, staring towards me the whole time.
Fire snaps his whip towards Damon, who is able to dodge it with only an inch to spare. He draws his arm back, readying for a second try when the tip of a dagger pierces the center of his neck. Blood drips slowly from the wound. His eyes dart between me and Damon, almost like his mind hasn’t caught up with the fact that he is already dead from the wound. He tries to take a breath and a wet slurping sound is all that happens. The man falls to the ground, his face crunching as it hits first.
At the entrance high above us is Kaleb with Lincoln at his side. I don’t know who threw the dagger and I don’t care. I crawl towards ice, desperate to get something out of him before he dies as well. Damon steps away, the sound of heaving coming from his direction. By the time I make it to ice, Kaleb and Lincoln are there with me.
The man’s eyes are black. Not just his irises, but … everything. The whites of his eyes are gone. Blood flows from his lips, but he is still breathing. “Who are you?” Lincoln demands from him. Ice smiles faintly, probably all he is able to do in his condition, then coughs up a mouthful of blood. “Who?”
“Aetheries,” the man chokes out. His attention settles on me. “We know who she is.”
My stomach drops at the way he says it and I scoot away from him, not wanting to be in arm’s reach of him.
“Who is she?” Lincoln asks.
Another smile. “We want her.” The remnants of his last breath seep out of him and his head falls to the side.
There’s silence between the three of us. I shouldn’t be as freaked as I am right now. He didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. But hearing it out loud makes it different. What am I? Why would they go through all of this in order to get to me?
“Damon,” Lincoln says, his voice strong and dominant. “Take them both home. Do not let them out of your sight.” The boy still looks a bit sickly, but after tonight, I have more confidence in him. “Violet, behave yourself. I mean it.”
I don’t argue with him, not this time.
This bed has never been comfortable, but tonight it is unbearable. No amount of tossing and turning will help me. After two hours of staring at the ceiling, I give up and head up to the third floor. I knock on her door softly, hoping that Em is still awake so that I’ll have someone to talk to. Damon is downstairs, but I know that whatever I say to him will immediately go to Lincoln. Right now, I need someone I can trust with anything. Someone who will tell me the honest truth even if it hurts her to say it.
She opens her door, wearing her usual baggy t-shirt that she likes to sleep in. She managed to bribe Damon into buying one for her on the second day we were here. She shuffles a massive book off the bed, pushing several pieces of thick paper off to the side, giving me somewhere to sit. “Can’t sleep?” she asks.
“No.”
She sits down next to me, scooping up the blanket and draping it over both of our laps. “Me either.”
“I think that we need to stay here.” I don’t look at her. I’ve always tried to be strong for her and not show any weakness. Even after Stanley attacked me in that alleyway, I hid how scared I was from her. Admitting that we need to be here for our – my – safety is basically admitting that I’m not able to handle the situation. I’ve never not been able to handle it before.
When she doesn’t answer, I know that this is the conclusion she wanted me to reach on my own. “Have you heard anyone talk about Aetheries? Anything about who they are or their powers?” Over the last two hours, I’ve racked my mind thinking and thinking and thinking. I’ve heard the name of the clan before, several times actually, but no one ever gave us details.
“Lincoln brought them up once when he was trying to get us to come here with him,” she says softly. “He said that he thought Aetheries were the ones sending people after you. That they are a clan of dark elementals and that they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.”
Out of habit, I start twirling a lock of hair around my finger. “I forgot about that.”
There’s a loud knock on the door and I yell at Damon to go away. The knocking persists and I hear Lincoln’s voice calling my name from the other side. He lets himself in and, for the first time since I’ve met him, he looks exhausted. His shoulders sag down with an invisible weight and his eyes are bloodshot. “Get dressed. Both of you need to come with me.”
Already wearing cotton and pants and shirt, I follow Lincoln down to the main floor and plop down on the couch, waiting for Em to get dressed. Damon is awake but only barely. “Where are we going? To the castle?” I don’t ask either one of them in particular and the answer doesn’t matter as long as there are answers involved with this late night escapade.
Neither of them answer. In fact they are quiet as they navigate the now quiet streets, leading us from one block of houses to another. We finally find ourselves in a familiar home, one that smells of fresh baked cookies. Tessa holds the door open before Lincoln even has a chance to open it. Her copper colored hair is down, hanging well below her shoulders and curls in waves that make my own spirals jealous.
Kaleb and Ben are already seated in the two chairs that occupy the living room, leaving only a large brown leather couch for the four of us. As soon as Tessa excuses herself, I lose my composure. “Aetheries. Who are they and what do they want with me. What do they think I am?”
After an eternity of silence, Ben finally clears his throat. “Before you both arrived here, Violet, there were a string of murders that happened. It was one death here and a few days later another one. None of the victims had anything in common expect for one aspect.”
“I was responsible for investigating the killing
s,” Lincoln says. “You are familiar with one of my abilities, that I can view memories associated with markers. These markers are formed from traumatic events, normally at the time of death. Each victim had such a mark. Without getting into too much detail, we were considering the possibility that Aetheries was behind the killings.
“Several days ago, Tessa had a telling about you,” he continues. “With the Watcher’s help, we brought you back here. Of course, at that point we learned about what was going on with you. That people were hunting you down, chasing you. I told you then and there that Aetheries was responsible.”
Ben shifts in his seat, leaning forward until his elbows rest on his knees. “Aetheries is a bit of a mystery to those of us in Pensatore. There are stories about the clan of course. These stories claim that the members originated from the Rovente clan. That something happened to them that caused them to go crazy and start hurting their own. It is said that the King of Rovente banished his members, exiling them from their settlement. It is rumored that these individuals hold their elemental powers to this day, only they are tainted. Dark.”
“Like black fire?” I ask.
Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1) Page 11
