Of Light and Darkness

by Shayne Leighton

  “Valek! Come on! Sarah’s spell is about to wear off!” Francis called, as the rest of the coven had been resurrected. Valek could also see the silhouette of the large spider on the other side of the flame walls. He had already made it out. Valek turned back to where Andela was, held the ring up and nodded at her, and put it in his pocket. He leapt through the opening in the flames, but the icy blue eyes of his coven did not meet him this time.

  “Valek, run!” He heard Sarah scream out.

  His gaze circled around the embers, searching for her face. One by one, fire Elves emerged from all corners of the perishing graveyard. Each one had a dour grin about their slanted faces as they set their eyes on the only Vampire left in the burning field.

  Valek took off like a condor in flight. He burst through the flame walls. Valek felt them pursuing close behind him. Out of one corner of his eye, he saw a ball of flames rip through the trees toward his head, then another, Panicking, he switched directions—the entire forest melting together into the same tree. The flames continued to fly around him. But there was no way to escape them. He suddenly skidded to a stop in the mud and mulch. He looked up to see the army of Regime guards had slowed also, but were ever approaching.

  The head officer grinned maliciously, fists blazing at his sides. “Your Charlotte is dead, Vampire.”

  Valek searched the Elf’s thoughts and found what he said was indeed true. He was not lying. His chest sank to his spine. His heart to his stomach. “Say again, Elf?”

  “The Lord Vladislov killed her. However, it is such a pleasure to see you again.”

  The forest around Valek spun as he stumbled backward onto a tree trunk. The deep indigo shades of the night only looked black and gray now. He opened his mouth, gazing at the muddy floor that seemed to suck him under. No cries ripped from him. No lamenting bellows escaped his jaws to linger in the tree canopies. No ruby tears buried themselves in the dirt below his face.

  “What did you expect? She was human, living in the underworld. How did you ever believe she would survive?” The fire Elf continued, growing ever nearer to Valek.

  Valek shut his eyes against the world, clutching the bark to keep him there. How could this be the vision Sarah had seen? Gone? How could she who had been there for too short a time be gone? He opened his eyes again, and though the infantry now stood just before him, he did not see them. But he would see her again, he decided, and held his arms out to them. If they killed him, then he would fight the armies existing in heaven so he might see her there.

  “There, Vampire.” The officer snapped shackles closed across Valek’s wrists. “This will all be over very shortly.”

  “Valek!” A small voice cried out somewhere from behind the Elves. “Don’t listen! It’s a trap!”

  Valek’s eyes widened. “Charlotte?”

  “They are lying, Valek. They are using magic to guard their thoughts from you!”

  He peered around the officer to see Sarah in the shadows atop the spider. A wave of true reality punched him in the ribs. He turned on the Elf in front of him, the cold flesh in his face an entirely different shade of gray. His pupils swallowed the rest of his eyes in a consciousless void and an enormous roar, like a demon escaping hell, tore open the Elf’s inner ear.

  The platoon turned at once on their heels and started retreating in the direction they came. Valek tore the shackles from his wrists, sending the splinters flying out around him as he trailed them now. He leapt from trunk to branch, and back to the earth, until he caught up. The guard was just in front of him. Valek reached out one of his claws and tore into the Elf’s shoulder blade.

  He cried out as Valek sent him flying headfirst into a large pine so hard it cracked the guard’s skull. He was dead on impact, but Valek continued for the rest.

  The officer at the front of the pack wheeled around, sending a large fireball in his direction. Valek ducked as the thing flew just over his head. His eyes were fixed on the next one in front. He leapt at him like a wolf as they tumbled through the dirt. Valek ended up on top as they stopped against the face of a boulder.

  He bent down, ripping out the jugular, careful not to swallow any of the Elf blood. He leapt up again and continued, aiming for his next victim, until one of the officer’s flames did finally strike him. Valek rolled down one of the hill banks in the dark woods, the flames spiraling with him. They went out in the dirt as his back slammed against a very large oak. Valek breathed, the humanity returning once again to his body. He turned his muddy face to the sky just as it opened up.

  The remaining squadron advanced down the hill where he fell.

  Valek’s vision started to refocus. He could see amongst the platoon was his coven.

  All of them had been captured, including Edwin and the Phaser. He looked at each of them sorrowfully.

  I'm sorry, Valek. We tried, Francis thought.

  “Let’s go.” The officer leaned into Valek, reshackling him with silver this time. It burned lightly at the flesh by his wrists as they pulled him up and led him to the hill toward Prague.

  ***

  Charlotte, once again, had been locked within her bedchambers, forbidden to see Aiden before the wedding. They’d spent the entire day together in the vast gardens surrounding the Regime palace. That morning the maids of the palace had removed all of her dingy clothing and scrubbed her from head to toe in a lavender and gold-leaf bath. She couldn’t remember the last bath she had taken. They had tried to remove the whistle around her neck, but something deep within made her refuse to take it off. She held onto it tightly, even now as she sat clean, wrapped in nothing but the red sheets of the bed.

  She held the thing close to her face, studying the details in it. The lion with dueling tails—the national symbol for Prague—was etched in fine detail on one side.

  She thought of Prague, then; the city just outside the palace walls, the towering spires seeming to meet the moon in the sky every night—forbidden lovers. She saw the golden light cast by the many lamps that lined the street. She had been born there, she thought. It was a vision in her very distant past. She was quite small, she remembered, and lying on her back. It was cold, and she was watching the stars in the sky twinkling down at her. Someone had left her there, she distantly recalled as she continued to turn the whistle over and over in her hand.

  There were lots of people around. A lot of human people like her. She remembered seeing nothing but their feet as they walked past her. But there was something else in her memory. A pair of hands. She thought of the moon again. These hands looked like the face of an oyster, pearl-like in essence. They were long, and slender, and cool, and when they slid underneath her back, they made her shiver.

  She shivered once under the sheets of the bed, though the room was not cold. It was just the mere memory of those hands. She remembered seeing the moon’s face then, in the sky. The moon was lifting her off the ground to meet him in the sky. She knew it sounded crazy in her own mind, but the memory was very real. This necklace was a part of that. It was the symbol of the city. It was the darkness about the city. She frowned again.

  She turned the whistle over and saw the small, cursive letters etched in the back. For Charlotte, it read. She squinted at it and repeated the words in her mind. This meant something to her. She knew it. She yawned. It felt like she had always had it and couldn’t bear to ever lose it. Her thoughts were spinning. This necklace belonged to whoever those hands belonged to.

  She strung the necklace back around her neck as her eyes grew more and more heavy with the late hour. Her fingers touched something on her flesh. It felt raised, and a little tender. She followed it up and down, in a slight curve along her neck. A scar? From what? She lay back with her head on the large pillows, her damp, red hair messy about her face, her fingers still to her neck. Perhaps more would come to her later. Now, she needed to focus on the wedding.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Broken Sound

  Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open the next morning. She
stretched under the fine bedclothes and reached for the silver whistle still strung around her neck. She dreamt of it last night—of the hands holding it—as she sat up in the bed.

  Across the room, draped over a garnet-colored armchair, was a neatly pressed dress. It was a sort of emerald green color, and cut to fit her body exactly. Ecstatic, she leapt from the bed and grabbed it in her hands, twirling around with it in front of her.

  She turned to admire it in the polished antique mirror hanging from the wall. She shrieked when she heard the door behind her creak open, and she struggled to cover herself with the dress.

  “Oopsie!” Meredith threw her fingers over her eyes. “Didn’t mean to startle ya, darlin’. Just wanted to make sure the dress fit right.”

  Charlotte beamed down at the dress in front of her. “I love it! Thank you! I haven’t had the chance to try it on yet.”

  “Well, get to it! And when you’re ready, Aiden is waiting downstairs for you in the garden for breakfast,” she chirped. “Come on, Molly.”

  That’s when Charlotte noticed the small, blonde girl by Meredith’s skirt. She peered around the door at her in awe, her long hair scraping across the floor.

  “You look real pretty, Charlotte,” the little Elf said.

  “Thank you.” Charlotte squinted at her. She looked so familiar.

  “Well, let’s get goin’, Molly. We must leave Charlotte to get ready.” Meredith anxiously pulled Molly away from the door, but the girl didn’t move.

  “Do you love my brother?” Her eyes seemed to bore into Charlotte’s soul.

  Charlotte stared at her a few moments longer. “Yes,” she said simply.

  “Aiden will treat you much better than Valek.” Immediately, Meredith’s hand flew over her daughter’s mouth.

  “Who?” Charlotte asked.

  Meredith chuckled. “Molly is so silly. Her imagination has become so wild these days, with all of these imaginary friends and make-believe stories.” She looked down at her daughter. “Hush, dear, and don’t bore Miss Charlotte with your little games.” She laughed again, and with a warm smile, closed the door.

  Charlotte turned and yanked the dress down over her head and, smiling again, examined herself in the mirror. She pulled open the drawer to the bedside table and ran the gold comb through her smooth curls before running out the door to meet her love in the garden.

  Just as Meredith said, Aiden was waiting out there, in the center of the East garden, the morning sun glinting off his golden hair, like autumn leaves. Charlotte ran to him, and he swept her into his arms, spinning her around in the heat of the day. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her mouth.

  After breakfast, the two of them walked again through the gardens, made summer green by magic, though frost had already bitten outside the palace gates.

  She frowned at Aiden when they sat next to each other on one of the emerald-cut benches. He held her hand in his, and she noticed how warm and ivory they were. These weren’t the hands from her memory. She looked at his face then, warm as the sun above them. “Aiden, why aren't you allowed to be with me after dark?”

  He looked at her then. “What do you mean?”

  She winced at the sight of their hands together. “Nothing, I guess. I just seem to remember that you used to spend every night with me. I used to feel you there next to me when I slept. Am I wrong?” She looked at him.

  He licked at his lower lip. “Lottie, we always kiss goodnight at sunset, but once we are married…” he nervously explained. His voice fluctuated as he spoke—his eyes shifting, not once resting on her. She didn’t trust this.

  “What did you call me?” She grimaced at him.

  “Charlotte,” he said, and cleared his throat.

  Confused, she turned away and stared at the dizzying pictures that danced around in her head. Aiden put his hand under her chin, turned her face back toward him, and kissed her forehead.

  “I love you, Charlotte.”

  They heard footsteps approaching, and Aiden smiled at who it was. “I’d like you to meet someone.” He stood in the presence of the man who approached in a sharp, navy suit, his snowy beard groomed down to the middle of his chest.

  Charlotte got to her feet as well, folding her hands in front of her, and smiled. She bowed her head once to him.

  “Charlotte, this is Lord Vladislov.”

  Charlotte bowed her head again and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure!”

  Aiden harshly smacked her hand away, his face turning bright red as Vladislov appraised him cautiously. “Pardon, my Lord. Charlotte is only mortal, she does not yet know our etiquette.”

  “Well, it seems as though you are running out of training time before the wedding, son.” He scanned her from head to toe. “Not a long time to turn a bitch into a pure-bred.” He smoothed the bottom of his beard.

  Tears welled slightly behind Charlotte’s eyes as she covered the red mark Aiden left with her other hand.

  “I assure you, she will be ready.” He placed a hand on the small of Charlotte’s back.

  “Good, then. I give the two of you my blessing, and trust you will continue to reign over this empire successfully as I have,” Vladislov concluded.

  “You will not be disappointed,” said Aiden happily. “Thank you.”

  “Would the two of you care to accompany me to this morning’s execution?” Vladislov extended a hand toward the palace.

  “It would be an honor,” Aiden responded, and held his arm out so Charlotte apprehensively linked with his. The three of them walked to the east tower.

  ***

  Charlotte sat between Aiden and Meredith in the highest box in the small stadium at the center of the palace. She clung to his arm as tears rolled down her cheeks. She blinked them away quickly when Meredith glanced at her. Her fingers grappled in the material of his sleeve as she watched the group of Vampires being dragged to the center of the platform. Aiden’s father, Danek, was standing, his hand held to the sky, blocking the sun with an immense storm cloud.

  The group hissed and pulled at the heavy chains that kept their wrists together. Their grayish skin was muddy and singed in some areas, faces cracked, despite their beauty. Charlotte’s eyes grew wide when one of them looked up at her. She tugged on Aiden’s sleeve, and he turned to look at her.

  “Why do they have to die, Aiden?” she whispered.

  Vladislov’s face contorted when he heard what she said.

  “Because,” Aiden whispered back, “they are murderers and sinners. Followers of the dark. They are dying for the crimes they’ve committed. Be quiet and do not ask anymore questions.”

  Charlotte looked to the platform, the one Vampire still staring at her sadly. The muscles in her chest wrenched as more tears swelled. She stood up. Everyone who was sitting around them looked at her.

  Vladislov sighed and began rubbing the bridge of his nose before shooting a slanted look at his heir.

  Aiden fiercely grabbed Charlotte’s arm. “Charlotte! What are you doing? Sit down!”

  “I don’t think it’s right, Aiden,” she continued, still watching the Vampire. “I don’t want to see this.”

  Everyone around them began whispering and staring at them.

  Aiden stood then, smacking Charlotte across her face with all of his strength. A few Elves around them gasped as she bent over, her tiny, white hand covering the burning, red mark. Aiden glanced around and adjusted his coat. He waved a diplomatic hand at the crowd. “You will obey me, Charlotte. Sit down,” he seethed, before sitting down.

  Tears fell from her as she quietly sat as well, her eyes still fixed on the Vampire staring at her from the center of the platform. Creatures of the darkness, she thought. Her other hand started toying with the whistle around her neck.

  At once, Danek shifted his hand, causing the large storm cloud that blocked the sun to dissipate. The Vampires screeched something horrible as their bodies combusted into putrid black and violet flames. Pillars of smoke descended to the sky as Charlo
tte shook, tears continuing to spill from her eyes, as most of the crowd watched her.

  At the end of the morning’s execution, Aiden angrily pulled Charlotte along the dark corridors of the palace, back to her quarters for the rest of the day. “Charlotte,” he said, as she struggled to keep up with him. “You will not embarrass me again, do you understand?”

  “You’re hurting me!” she cried, trying to get free.

  He stopped walking and pinned her against a stony wall, his face almost touching hers. “I will be ruler in a day. You will not ruin this for me. I chose you, so you will obey me.”

  She glared angrily back at him. “You can rule without me because I do not love you.”

  This enraged him. He struck her again and tore her from the wall, pulling her once again toward her bedchamber. “You will not see me again until our wedding, Charlotte.”

  Just as they were about to round a corner, Charlotte’s eyes happened upon a small platoon of guards pushing crude, metal gurneys covered over with black tarps. She squinted to get a better look. A single, silvery arm emerged from under the tarp, hanging over the side as the gurney hit a crack in the floor. Charlotte’s grew wide immediately as she recognized this hand so well—the hand from her dream. She grasped onto the whistle again.

  And there was one outcast walking with the group of guards, she noticed. A sad, little girl with tight, brown curls and a doll-like complexion. Charlotte frowned at this familiar face.

  Aiden swung open the door to her bedroom and flung her to the ground. He glared at her. “You can’t leave this room until we are married.” Charlotte noticed in his angry young face he was hiding some other emotion. Flashes of fear colored his eyes.