The Lost Heir

by Allison Whitmore

  “So is she a queen or something?” Seth was asking. Isabella shot him a glare.

  Key laughed before speaking in a soft, sodden tone. “Not at all, young guardian. She is special, but she is no queen.” He turned to Isabella. “You are the last of our age until the dawn. It means nothing more than that.”

  “Then what is the point of this?” Isabella asked.

  “It means nothing more to us than that. To you, it may mean great power, if you use your skills properly, as our savior has done.”

  Isabella's eyes widened. “Is he a diadem too?” That made perfect sense to her. Her stomach churned with sudden anticipation.

  “Oh, yes. He's the most powerful diadem this world has known for fifty years—he has the power to overtake the one who holds us captive, who plays God with our lives but is evil to his very core. Oh, yes, our savior is beyond age, beyond pain, beyond darkness. He brings only light.”

  “Beyond age?” Seth asked. “What does that mean?”

  “Just as it sounds. Only two have managed to defy it in the West. One dark and the other light,” said Key, pride glowing in his dismal features.

  For the first time since being in the Underground, Isabella finally began to sense the emotions of those around her in addition to Seth’s. They were enraptured, thrilled, and full of mistrust. Without thinking of the consequences, she shouted, “Who here is a wish-weaver?” Everyone's eyes turned away as the question danced in the air.

  “A wish-weaver!” This was the first time Pudgy Rat-Face spoke, his tone a derisive howl.

  Laughter filled the clearing. “There are no wish-weavers here,” shouted a man.

  “But—”

  “Wish-weavers do not really exist, child,” said the old, yellow-eyed woman, baring her gnarled teeth. “You must have run into the Roaming Bard. He's always telling tall tales.”

  “But you said they'd all be here.” Isabella turned on Cast, who shrugged. She tried pushing down her rage.

  “I simply wanted to give the two of you hope. You'll have your wishes soon enough.”

  Isabella wanted to throw the little man into the big fire. How could he have lied to them? Seth must have sensed her reaction, because he covered her fisted hand with his large one. She gripped the odd box Cast had given her in her other hand. Maybe she could use it as a weapon.

  “I know. I know,” Seth said. She could feel him controlling himself for her sake. He gave her a little peace as he said, “Let's just go with it. Maybe we can still make wishes. It's Wish Valley, right?” He looked at Cast with ice-cold eyes.

  “Of course, young master, but only after—”

  “We appear to have two debuts among us,” the priestess said over Cast's explanation, her voice full of command and power. “Come forth, along with the items bestowed upon you by your mentor, Mr. Krebbs.” The silver-and-black-haired woman pinned her nearly colorless eyes on Isabella. “And prepare to prove yourselves.”

  Seth removed his hand from Isabella's fist, and she held up the box with the round, black crystal in the middle. She looked at Seth, who clutched his lasso. She could sense his fear just as well as he could sense hers.

  “Boy, you will simply use the rope to climb the thick limb of that tree.”

  “That's it?”

  “You must reach the top branch in sixty seconds’ time.”

  “Then what?”

  Satrina smiled. “You will be rewarded with what you seek, naturally. Cast, if you will... Prepare your young charges one at a time.”

  Cast motioned Seth to follow him to a thick, red oak tree. “You simply have to get to the giver's branch, which is the highest branch that will hold your weight. Your rope, if used correctly, will keep you safe. This is not like any sky-side rope, so you mustn't try this at home.” Cast winked with a laugh. The crowd joined him in laughter. They seemed to revel in making fun of their ignorant debuts.

  “Dash, Levi, if you would please come spot this young man,” said Cast, gesturing toward Pudgy Rat-Face and Lanky Acne.

  “Oh, I think I'm good,” said Seth.

  “No, no. They are young and robust. It will be good to station them below, just in case your rope snaps. Of course, that will not happen if you tie it properly.” Looking at his watch, Cast shouted, “Begin!”

  Seth impressed Isabella with his knowledge of knots and harnesses; he completed his task in fifty-nine seconds and held a look of pure satisfaction and accomplishment as he descended the fat oak tree. He narrowed his eyes at the bullies. “You'll get yours one of these days,” he said. Isabella sighed, wishing he could keep his temper in check for himself like he did for her. “Guess being a Boy Scout wasn't a complete waste of time,” he muttered to her when he came back to her side. She smiled softly. At least he'd made it through easily.

  “That had only some to do with your ability,” Cast explained to Seth as his rope unwound from around his waist of its own accord and then looped the remainder of itself into a lasso at his side.

  Seth grinned. “Sick.” Isabella looked at her box, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do with it. “You got this, Iz,” Seth assured her.

  Isabella's task was quite different. “The onyx crystal ball that sits in the center is an enigma globe. It will bring forth a riddle suited just for you. Solve it to complete the challenge,” Cast told her as Satrina looked on, lips spread into a wide grin. “Say the words gigno aenigma to call forth your riddle. You have until the green light fades.”

  Isabella clutched the box tightly. She shut her eyes and concentrated on calling forth every ounce of strength she had within her and then whispered, “Gigno aenigma.” The fire flickered in the rock pit, and the black ball in the center of her box turned green. Then a voice poured through the trees, hypnotizing Isabella's senses. It spoke these words:

  “Indigo channeled,

  Dahlia disgorged,

  Hide hidden,

  Pumped and stored.

  For your antecessor, I am named.

  For fallen brethren, I am claimed.

  Your body's water, your body's heir,

  Your body's mother, your soul's lair.”

  Isabella froze. She was good at word games, puzzles, and such. Why couldn't she think of the answer? “Indigo channeled, dahlia disgorged, hide hidden, pumped and stored—”

  “Having trouble, my dear?” Satrina laughed.

  Isabella continued going over the words in her mind. Dahlia? Like the Black Dahlia? The girl who was last seen at the Biltmore downtown back in the 1940s or something. The one who supposedly haunts its halls? But dahlia meant something else, didn't it? Indigo. Indigo was like a bluish-purple color. A channel was a road or a tube. Pumped and stored. Your body's water?

  The green light began to turn black again.

  “Come on. You've got this, Izzy,” Seth repeated. She caught his eye briefly, and her mind cleared.

  Of course, dahlia means red. Red disgorged, pumped, and stored. “The answer is blood,” she said, just before the ball turned completely black.

  “You are correct. Welcome to the realm of puzzlers,” the voice said.

  Puzzlers? She hoped that meant it was time for her to make her wish.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Truth

  “How come I didn't get welcomed into anything?” asked Seth as Cast took the box from Isabella with a wink.

  “For safekeeping, dear,” he said before turning to Seth. “And you, young man, have been allowed to remain a guardian due to your display.”

  “Which means what? And wasn't I already one of those?”

  “It is never a certainty when one is a debut,” said Cast.

  “So, now it is?”

  Cast did not answer.

  Isabella did not like these cryptic people and their strange tasks. “So, do we get our wishes now?” she spat at Satrina.

  Satrina smiled. “Before you receive your prize, you must perform a rite of passage and swear allegiance to the Greens, as we have presented you with your
debut tasks and are offering you such an enormous and rare gift—a wish.”

  Seth's expression grew dark as he stepped slightly in front of Isabella. “We're not swearing our allegiance to anyone.”

  Moving out of the shadow his protective body created, Isabella stood tall at his side. “Why do we have to do that?”

  “You must, now that you have begun your debut challenge under our care,” said Satrina.

  “You never said anything about swearing an oath,” Isabella continued.

  “This is something you have no choice over,” Satrina said, her features darkening.

  Cast blinked slowly, taking a sip of wine from a chalice that seemed to materialize out of nothing. “Listen to Satrina, children. This is the way things are done here.”

  “Well, your ways suck!” Seth's emotions grew hot, taking over the protective coolness that Isabella had become accustomed to. “We're leaving!”

  Isabella's heart raced. They had to leave. She knew that now. But she also knew these people were not going to make it easy. The Greens of the Valley stared at them, expressionless, until finally Satrina smiled, slow and cold.

  “Seth, what do we do?”

  “I'm thinking.”

  “Debuts are so charming,” said Satrina.

  “We want so see who is in charge, your savior… or what not…” Seth said, shocking Isabella. What was he doing?

  “Well…” Satrina laughed, its echo floating through the clearing. “We'd like to see him, too, but he's not here.”

  “Why not, if he's so powerful? Why wouldn't he be here with you, if he's your master or whatever the heck you call him,” Seth continued.

  “He is our light, and yes, our master,” the priestess explained calmly. “We know his power can provide for our people, for us all.”

  “I think that's a load of bull,” said Seth.

  No one seemed fazed by Seth's reaction. Instead, they turned their heads toward the thicket of trees as a little boy whom Isabella recognized all too well was brought forward. He held the hand of a young woman dressed like all the others.

  “Ah, yes,” said the priestess. “Bring the boy to me.”

  “Satrina,” Key said, stepping forward, back straight and chest high. “I do not think Master Heel would approve of this.”

  “Blood! Apropos that your riddle had such an answer. This boy and the one he serves are direct threats to our master's goals,” Satrina said, turning to the boy.

  “Our master loves this child,” argued Cast.

  Satrina laughed, chilling Isabella's heart. “Yes. A foolish weakness on his part. We are not going to kill him. We will merely bleed him.”

  “I don't like this,” Seth said in a low whisper, looking straight ahead as if afraid to move a muscle. “What is that kid doing here?”

  “I know him. His name's—”

  “Pythian! You have betrayed our master, and thereby the Greens of the Valley,” Satrina declared.

  The boy said nothing, only nodding a small hello to Isabella. A tall, thick man holding a long, crooked knife stepped forward from behind Satrina. He laid the knife across her open palms and then turned to a server about half his size, who presented him with a chalice etched green with vines, reeds, and leaves; an eerie set of tiny blue eyes peered from the center. The eyes looked left then right, and then they shut.

  Isabella grabbed Seth's hand, biting down the urge to cry out. The woman who had appeared with Pythian handed him over to Cast, whose countenance turned menacing as his hands bore down on the boy's shoulders.

  Pythian did not respond, but for the first time, Isabella knew that her initial instincts had been muddled and confused somehow and that they had led her completely astray. She knew that her following Key and Cast, something she would have instantly known not to do under normal circumstances, had been caused by that.

  The woman accepted a glass bottle from one of the servers and poured its reddish-brown contents into the chalice. “We should use the leeches and forget the knife,” said the old woman, grinning widely. “We will make much less of a mess that way.”

  Laughter erupted from the crowd. “Yes! Let's leech the boy.”

  “Yeah, leech 'im,” said Pudgy Rat-Face, glowering eerily in the light of the fire.

  “No, no,” the priestess said, holding up the long, crooked knife. She pointed it at Seth and Isabella. “You must each cut the boy's wrist in order to bless this wine with his blood. Then you will drink and swear your allegiance to us.”

  They were going to hell, Isabella thought as her stomach dropped. Who were these people, and why were they doing this?

  “I'm not slicing up a kid!” Seth jumped up, nostrils flaring. In the blink of an eye, the thick man was there, restraining him. “Get off me, you ogre!” Seth struggled against him, but it was no use.

  Satrina gripped the chalice and held it up. A green flame slowly emerged from its depths, casting a glow around its mistress' face. Satrina's red lips arrowed at each corner: deadly.

  Isabella stood, glaring hotly at the priestess. “Let him go.”

  “He's nothing but a coward.” The priestess laughed. “But what about you, dear? Any braver than your so-called guardian?”

  “Brave enough to cut a little kid? No. Not that brave today. Sorry.”

  “Then what is it you want, dear?”

  Ice settled in the pit of Isabella's stomach as Satrina's eyes penetrated her. “What do you mean? I told you. To find out where my grandmother is.”

  “And to find out whether or not Jack Heel is the lost heir so you can restore the Violet Fire?”

  “How did you know that?” Isabella asked slowly.

  “He's waiting for you, dear. He just isn't here to greet you, but he will come to save you.”

  “Don't listen to her!” Pythian cried out, his small voice tumbling into the night for the first time. “He is evil! He isn't the lost heir!”

  Isabella blinked as her heart wracked her chest. That couldn't be true. Was he talking about Jack? That didn't make sense. Her confusion turned to rage. Isabella's temples pulsed, and her ears rang. The curve of her fingernails bore into the skin of her palm.

  Cast tightened his grip on Pythian's shoulders. “Perhaps you'd like a muzzle, boy,” he said with a sneer.

  “He'll suffer for his actions soon enough,” said Satrina.

  “Jack Heel m—” Key covered Pythian's mouth as he struggled against Cast's hold on him.

  Blind to consequence and full of the sting of betrayal, Isabella ripped a clump of dirt filled with pebbles and stone from the ground and, with a cry she did not know she had in her, flung the debris into Cast's eyes.

  The little man roared and lost his grasp on Pythian, who ran toward Isabella and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “You're either very brave or very stupid,” Satrina said, holding up her arms, which seemed to signal to everyone to remain still.

  “It's okay. It's okay,” Pythian soothed Isabella, as if he could feel her anger.

  “What did you mean about Jack?” Isabella whispered, her nostrils flaring and eyes shifting between Satrina and her band of green ghouls, studying them for any sudden movement. When her eyes settled on Seth, he mouthed, Go. Now. She shook her head. She couldn't leave Seth, but they did have to get out of there, and fast.

  Pythian dropped his arms from around her waist and tugged on her shirt. Tears filled his eyes. “Your mother and your father are dead. Now he wants you, but not until you're ready.”

  “Who wants me? How do you know this?” Isabella’s mind reeled as her rage grew more subdued.

  Pythian took out a glass ball that glowed with white light and put it in her hand.

  Satrina gasped. “The orb!”

  “It can't be,” said Cast.

  Isabella looked questioningly at Pythian. “Ask it for a time slide,” he said.

  “A what?”

  “Please just ask the orb for a time slide, and then look right at me. You can do this without the orb i
f you concentrate, but we don’t have time for that right now.”

  Isabella looked down at the strange white ball. “I want a time slide,” she said and then looked at Pythian.

  A soft, white light cloaked both of them. “You're not strong enough to have it last for more than a few minutes, so don't ask questions,” Pythian explained. “They can't hear us or touch us right now. But just until the light fades.”

  “What? That's crazy,” she said in awe. Time seemed to slow, and the world seemed to rock.

  “Okay, I have to tell you something. So here goes.” Pythian looked straight into her eyes. “These empaths are under Jack’s reign… He is my uncle. Not Theophilus.”

  “What?” She pushed him away, but Pythian clutched her hand.

  “But they are brothers.”

  “That isn't true, and that doesn't make sense! Jack is my Uncle Robert's brother, isn't he? And these people don’t even know him. I even asked those weirdos, Key and Cast.”

  Pythian shook his head. “Don’t ask questions. The Heels… they are blood, but they are not true brothers. I couldn't say anything before, but you have to know this now. You are in danger.” His gray eyes bore into her.

  “How is any of this true?” she asked, blinking, tears piercing the corners of her eyes. If what he was saying was true, then everything she’d believed until now was a lie.

  Pythian went on. “Jack already has been securing his hold over the empaths at Brightwood. Now he wants the hotel and you.”

  “Jack? The hotel? Why are you mentioning his name? He doesn’t even know me. And it’s Robert who wants the hotel. He thinks he can save it or something. So what does Jack have to do with it?”

  “So many questions.” Pythian sighed but quickly added, “People are going to pay the price because your family betrayed Jack. Because he loved your Aunt Beatrice but she rejected him and then she died. He blames every Foxworthy for it. When you were born, they told him that your power might exceed his own, but more than that, you are what keeps the violet fire alive. If he can kill you or better yet control you, then he'll have everything he wants—revenge and, most of all, power. But not until you're ready.”