by D. Fischer
“You feel betrayed,” I exclaim, searching her face.
“I do.” She nods once. “But, I also feel selfish. I created you to care for others, not for me. Not like this.” She waves her hand back and forth between us. “What we have together shouldn’t have happened. It’s a conflict, bound to erupt in our faces. We’re lucky to remain undiscovered. Do you know the consequences – the repercussions - if they were to find out about us?”
Lifting my other hand, I tuck a stray red curl behind her slender ear. “You worry too much.” As the words pass my mouth, I recognize them to be a lie. She worries precisely enough, and her reasons are valid. The angels wouldn’t see this as love. They’d see it as special treatment.
I search her face, cupping my warm hand to her cold cheek, and lean in. Her breath fans my face as I brush my lips against hers. I get lost in them, in her scent, my attention honed in on everything she is.
“Well, what do we have here,” a familiar and sinful voice chuckles behind me.
KATRIANE DUPONT
DEATH REALM
I pace the length of her small living space, desperate to form a plan. Any plan would do, but nothing comes to mind. My shoes pad against the concrete, and it echoes throughout the small, bare room. I cringe at each step, biting my nails in the process.
I had no idea so many in this realm knew about me. They think I’m the savior for their realm. I can’t save everyone here. I came for one reason: Dyson. A part of me believes it’s my duty to save him, especially when I couldn’t in the past. I want to get in and get out. Nothing more.
Wanda grows impatient with me, her voice motherly, deep, and direct as her foot taps. “You mustn’t keep pacing. There isn’t a lot of time. The games have already begun.”
Dropping my hand from my mouth, I look to her, my face pinched with anxiety. Standing next to the wall, she waves her hand, beckoning for me to follow. Reapers Breath swirls around me, entering my mouth once more. I gag, my resistance strong. I’m not sure I can do this. I’m not sure I can pull any of this off.
“Come,” Wanda demands. “Pull yourself together. We haven’t much time.”
She turns without a backward glance, travels through the wall, her beckoning hand at the last, and disappears. I fidget in front of the wall, pulling at the hem of my shirt once more. I wrinkle my nose, talking myself into it, but before I’m ready, the Reaper’s Breath inside me pushes me through.
It’s easier this time, traveling through a solid object. It feels normal, almost.
I release the breath I held, and glance to my left. Wanda is already rushing down the stone path, her head swiveling in paranoia. If she’s paranoid, I should be too. We’re playing a risky game here.
Biting my bottom lip, I jog to catch up to her. Wanda turns down a small, narrow walkway. I skid to a halt as Reaper’s Breath shoves its way out of my body. The air rushes from my lungs like I was punched in the stomach by a fist the size of my head. I bend, gripping my abdomen.
“Ah, Wanda?” I call as soon as I have enough oxygen to croak the words.
She swivels on her right foot, spinning to face me with wild eyes. The Reaper’s Breath zips past her, heading quickly to a new destination. A frown pulls her eyebrows.
“Where is it going?” I ask, forcing myself to stand upright. My eyes widen, and I pat myself along my abdomen. “I’m not a shade. Wanda . . . I’m not transparent.” I panic inside, my voice hysterical. The only part of my plan I had worked out fled around the corner and disappeared.
“It’s going to the Keep,” she mumbles, watching it disappear. She sighs, her lips forming a thin line.
“Why? What about me?”
She swivels to me, finger wagging. “Reaper’s Breath wouldn’t abandon you unless there was cause. It must think you have to travel from here without transparency. You’ll have to do this as a human.”
With the outside of my palm, I hit the stone wall beside me and curse with tense lips. Tiny pebbles break free and fall to my feet. “This is a bad idea.”
She shakes her head and inches closer to me. “No, it’s brilliant if you pause and think about it. The shades inside the Colosseum are human.”
Tightening my jaw, I scowl and rub my sore hand, relieving the ache I forced it to endure. “You want me to get caught. . .”
She nods, a satisfied beam lighting her features. It’s an odd look for her, even if I barely know her. To me, she seems like a ham-fisted motherly figure. “Yes. Yes, it’s perfect, actually. If you get caught, they’ll take you straight to Dyson, or at least get you close to him. You would be working from the inside. What better way to free them?”
I hang my head, shaking it in shame. “I can’t free everyone, Wanda. I don’t know how.”
She raises her arm to pat my shoulder, thinks better of it, and bends, capturing my eyes instead. “But you can try. There really is no other plan. None without dangerous complications. Come, we must hurry.”
Without another word after her brief and failing encouragement, she turns, heading down the alley once more without waiting to see if I follow. She’s rushed, possibly frightened. Or maybe she has an adrenaline rush because their ‘savior’ is here to free them.
I release a pent-up breath in hopes of relaxing myself. Determined to grow a backbone, I straighten my spine and roll my shoulders to loosen my tense muscles. It doesn’t matter what they think. I’m here, and I have people I can’t let down. If I’m capable of helping because of my nature, then I should at least try. This thing, this beast I’ve become . . . It’s possible I can use it to my advantage, helping those who deserve it. Not for Erline’s intentions, not for Tember’s, but maybe, just maybe, fate, if there is such a thing, has a bigger plan for me. If I can help, why shouldn’t I? It’s not about me anymore.
I walk forward, the fear gone from my stiff joints, fortitude driving my stride. My purpose clicks, my vision of the future changes. This whole time I’ve been looking for someone to call my own, to not be lonely and to feel like I belonged. But all along, I was never alone. People need me, maybe even the ones who aren’t considered human anymore.
My shoulders touch each side of the walls expanding up into the foggy sky. I imagine if a broad vampire tried to travel through this, he’d have to shimmy. Shades, however, don’t need to worry about such things. Their shoulders would only disappear into the walls if they so wished it.
Wanda looks over her shoulder. “We’re taking the long route. The vampires . . .”
“I understand.” With my beating heart, I’d be a fool to try and dupe them. The closer we get to the Colosseum, the more believable it’ll be that I’m an escapee.
“It’s up ahead,” Wanda whispers. “We don’t have far, and then I must leave you.”
“Leave me?” I question. I hadn’t thought I’d be doing this alone.
“I must get to the Keep. Eliza should be there. I must attempt to wake her. She’ll want to be at the Colosseum.”
I gulp, having no idea what, or who, she’s talking about. “Who’s Eliza? Why is she sleeping?”
Wanda licks her bottom lip, looking through an alley. Deeming it safe, she continues in a straight path. The buildings are built father apart here. “Eliza was made Kheelan’s Queen last night.”
My eyes bug. “You trust her?” I screech.
Mrs. Tiller’s jaw ticks one. “She’s a slave, Ms. Dupont. Kheelan killed her loved one, imprisoned the rest, including Dyson, and forced her to marry him. After the marriage, she fainted due to the transfer of power. She now shares Kheelan’s magic.” She glances at me, licking her lips while gathering her thoughts for her next words. “This is no place for the dead, even for the wicked and accused. Whatever happens tonight, whether you’re successful or you die, you’ll always have my gratitude for trying.”
Mrs. Tiller turns. She pulls her arms up to her side, bent at an angle, her hustle faster than before. I curse and curl my fingers into my palms, the nails biting skin. “Right. Okay. Um - How many exits are
there in the Colosseum?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many vampires will be there?”
“I don’t know.”
I cock my head, frowning. “What else should I expect?”
“I don’t know.”
I sigh and run a hand through my short black hair. “You’re just a wealth of information, aren’t you?”
She stops in her tracks and spins to face me, faster than I thought she’d be able to move. Shades are so fluid. The aches and pains of their human bodies don’t exist anymore. It can be slightly unnerving when I’d expect a limp or a hobble due to age or obvious injury.
Her face is tinged in red splotches, her eyebrows dipped in a scowl. “I haven’t been dead long, Ms. Dupont.”
“Kat,” I correct, trying to smooth things over. She frightens me a little. “We might as well be on a first name bases.”
“Kat,” she corrects. She points at me again, her voice softening. “Stay focused. Do not panic. Remember: You are their only hope. They will die without you. A painful, bloody, slow death. If you panic, if you freeze due to fright, you will be sealing their last death.”
Turning her back to me, I purse my lips. Sarcasm threatens to roll off my tongue, deflecting the seriousness of the situation, but I think I would get the wrath of Mrs. Tiller if I tried.
The closer we get to the end of the alley, the more she becomes agitated and impatient. I get that. I feel that. I am that. Lashing out in anger has been my personality flaw lately. After all, didn’t I do that to Tember? Even if she had a major role, she’s also the one who saved me. I doubt the fee would have gathered on their own if someone didn’t call upon them. They probably wouldn’t have known. Tember could have left me to rot and called me a lost cause, but she fought for me.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I’ve been ungrateful. I’ve been self-absorbed, more than I realized. I have a bigger purpose, this I’m now aware of. Being this close to yet another death, coupled with my mother’s predictions of my very narrow future, it makes me want to apologize to the people who truly matter to me. Maybe I’m being irrational. If I make it out of this alive, if I leave here with more than one beating heart under my care . . .
The alley ends ahead, fog swirling past and missing the small opening altogether. Naturally, it should whirl in, taking the chance for a change of course. But this place isn’t natural. She stops before the opening, and I peer around her, pebbles of broken stone gritting under my shoes, obnoxiously noisy.
Ahead, a large square building takes up a large open space. “The Keep,” Mrs. Tiller whispers.
Tall buildings where the shade’s surely live surround the center, and the most massive circular structure is tucked behind the Keep. The structure is unmistakable, a perfect example of a colosseum in its glory days.
I have a brief flashback of Myla’s past – the Keep is exactly where the gallows were placed. Similar to the gallows, the Keep is meant to be a symbol of utmost importance – a reminder for wrong-doers. It’s an interesting tactic, frightening people by a carefully placed object or building.
“This is where I leave you,” she whispers, staring at the Colosseum.
“Okay.” I gulp. “Um, you go first. I’ll ah – find myself a vampire to take me hostage.”
Wanda nods her head and peeks around the building once more. Her fingers twist in front of her, pulling at one another. She straightens her spine but slinks toward me.
Now out in the open, she hesitates and turns, looking at me with sympathy. “Good luck,” she mouths.
Nervous energy surges from her as she makes her way to the center of the opening to the Keep. Her waddle resembles a goose, a teeter of balance. Standing between two large doors, she hesitates before floating through it. It’s a miracle she wasn’t seen or caught even as suspicious as she looked. If I were to be walking by, my attention would have zoned in on her at the very beginning. She had waddled there in a hurry, clearly nervous about getting caught. That would have sounded alarm bells for me.
Without thinking, I slouch along a wall, inhaling a calming breath but gasp when a rock digs into my shoulder blade. Adjusting my stance, I close my eyes, forcing the temporary fear from my system.
I can do this. Find a vampire. Don’t kill the vampire. Let the vampire lead me to Dyson.
Nodding once, I open my eyes and push off the wall. A figure stands in the way of the alley exit. I gasp, startled, my hand flying to my chest and hovering above my pounding heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ELIZA PLAATS
DEATH REALM
“Eliza,” a voice whispers beside my ear. I frown, thinking it’s within my dreams. “Eliza.”.
“Hmm?” I mumble, cracking my eyelids.
My body is weak, and a pounding headache disguises my thoughts.
Where am I?
I blink once, taking in the stone ceiling above my head. The past few days flood my mind, forcing me to recapture the memories in a rapid speed of flicking images. The dream I dreamt shoves the memories aside, plaguing my contemplations. I groan, my hand covering my forehead. Too much . . . It’s too much.
A head pops in my line of sight, a familiar face.
“Wanda?” I question, my voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyebrows are pulled down and her lips are firm with anxiety. “You must wake. You must get up.”
I shimmy my way to a seated position, my quilt falling from my chest. “What’s wrong?”
She looks at the door then back at me. “Katriane Dupont – the witch. She’s here.”
Cursing, I rub the sleep from my eyes with the heel of my hands, and my stomach growls, reminding me it hasn’t been fed. How long have I been out? “Of course, she is. The one Dyson talked about?” Nodding her head, she evacuates my personal space, allowing me to swing my legs over the side of the mattress. Janine’s words pop back in my head, asking me to help her daughter.
I clear my throat. “Where is she?”
Clasping her hands in front of her, she pulls her fingers, pinching the nails. “She’s going to the Colosseum.”
“What?” I bark in disbelief.
“She has a plan.” Wanda frowns. “I think.”
I rake a hand through my hair, processing this information. “Okay –“
She interrupts me. “Come. Get up. Get dressed. We must go.”
DYSON COLEMAN
DEATH REALM
Tanya screeches as her body hits the concrete. She is the last to be shoved to the archway, the one leading to the sand of the field we’ll battle in. Her small frame smashes against a row of swords dangling from their perch along the wall. Their sharp edges snag on the cloth of her shirt, causing the ripping of fabric. The sound of metal against metal, of cheers and shouts from a large crowd, filter in through the electric bars.
“They have something,” the vampire smacks his lips, teasing us, “tasteful for you five.” The vampire chuckles and leaves us, his laugh brasher as he marches through the tunnel we came from.
“Dyson, what do we do?” Jane whispers. “What if we’re to fight each other?”
Gan shuffles to the electric bolt bars. It’s the only wall of sorts keeping us separated from the arena. He touches a bolt with his index finger and screams when the electricity travels through his body.
I sigh, my heart pumping in fear. Gan will be no use in an arena. “I don’t know, Jane. I don’t know anything. I don’t have a plan.” I pause, frowning, and lick my bottom lip. “We should prepare ourselves. We aren’t walking out of this alive.”
They stare at me, their eyes wide with fear, except for the sandman. His jaw tightens, and his expression is an unwavering determination. Nodding once, he reaches over, grasping the handle of his choice in weapon. Dangling from the handle is a spiked ball. He glides back to our circle, planting his feet shoulder-width apart.
The sandman studies the spikes which glint in the light of a single candle. “Even if we are to survive this batt
le,” he begins, his words slow and deep. “We won’t make it out of here alive. They will kill us in the end. It matters not if you die there, in the arena, or as a champion.”
TEMBER
GUARDIAN REALM
Our lips smack as I break the kiss, quickly pulling back and recoiling from Erma. My heart thudding in my wrist, and rapid self-reflections rotate through my mind, fear coursing its drive and direction.
I turn slowly, my fingers curling into fists, and my teeth grind against each other. Corbin leans against a pillar, his arms crossed over his chest and his hip cocked to the side in the arrogant way he’s best known for. He bites his bottom lip with perfect white teeth, and his lips curl at the edge, smiling. “And to think I left my entertainment for a brief, boring chat, and what I witness is even better than my absence at my own event.”
Two angels stand beside him. Their cheeks burn a bright red as the initial shock wears off, replaced with barely contained malice. I recognize these two. They dabble with the darker side of our nature. Their intents are not pure but driven by selfish desires.
“Did we interrupt?” Jax growls. His silky black hair is perfectly spiked, creating a halo on its own. He’s tall and thin but not as much as Corbin.
Jax’s good friend, and often the one he beds, stands beside him. Dena’s knuckles are white from the strain of tight fists, and her veins bulge on her forehead, ticking. “Does everyone receive these favors? Or just the one?” she spits.
Erma remains nonchalant, her expression carefully blank. She pushes her rump off the desk with elegance and grace. “What can I do for you three?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow. Her tone holds a great deal of hostility, reminding those before her who is in charge.
“They came to escort me to your chambers, but it seems there’s much more to discuss than I previously anticipated.” Corbin chuckles, dropping his crossed arms and striding into the office as if it were his own. He takes a seat on the chair in front of me, his manners gone as his ego swells to a whole new level.
