by CK Dawn
“You strengthened the spell. It would have brought her close enough.”
“Close isn’t good enough. We deliver what’s ordered.”
Vincent shook his head. “Father would have never approved of this. You know that!”
Cole scowled at the choice of weapon.
His youngest brother set his jaw with their father’s memory backing every word. “He only agreed to gather the homeless to ensure their security, give them shelter. The Grand Marshals do that.”
Cole slugged at his drink to drown the want to lash out. He slammed the can on the bar. “Giving them shelter.” He scoffed. “Right along with memory wiping and bending wills.”
Vincent turned livid. “That was only to help the insecure settle. Father loved these people!”
“And they’re the very ones who ended him aren’t they?” Cole sent his disgruntlement to the room. The leather seating and cherry fitments stood firm and offered his case no support. The picture window revealed the black night of this world—a cruel reinforcement that their assignment there was an indefinite curse to him. He threw his hand across the scene. The draperies whipped closed.
He set his clenched fist on the bar. “We did our job. This falls under keeping the Grand Marshal’s placid. It’s their bid. The new law made her no different from any of the others we harvest.” His voice lowered to a mumble. “What’s binding a soul to a soul with no rebirth?”
His gaze flicked to the large masterpiece above the hearth. Sylis Shilo’s dark eyes peered down at him and a flash of reproach stung his soul. He looked away to erase the discomfort.
James sat in a nearby chair and blew a long stream of air through his pursed lips. “I was going to wait until later for all of this, but I have to chime in here.”
Furling his brow, Cole held up his can in a salute. “By all means, say your piece. At least I know you won’t be spilling my drink all over my clothes.”
James leaned his hulky arms on his knees. “I know how you feel about our situation, Cole. But we can’t let bitterness shadow our reason for being in Cornerstone Deep. I don’t believe Father would wish any ill on these people. Erasing memories allows the subjects to release the pain of their past. And bending wills enhances dedicated service, gives them a future to focus on. But a soul is a being’s depth. Even if this dimension doesn’t offer reincarnation it limits them to rely on the basic instincts of their nature.”
Cole heaved a sigh. “All she’ll know is that she’s loved and wanted. You saw it in her eyes. Her whole heart was content at the thought of just being with us.”
James shook his head. “At being with you. In her limited mind, you gave her life.”
He paused at his brother’s words and rolled his shoulder as discomfort struck his nerves again. Cole swigged at his drink then calmed his voice. “When I turned her over to Lord Dressen, that reverence was given to him. Any attention he gives her will be like heaven to her. All mortals should be so lucky.”
James held out his hand. “What’s going to happen when she’s left alone? Without a soul to guide her thoughts, emotions will take over. Confusion will lead to panic.” He furrowed his brow. “Did any of this even enter your mind when you decided to seal that spell with a kiss?”
Cole growled. “I filled the man’s order. What’s done is done. If things go awry, I’ll unbind the soul and refund the money.”
A scowl accentuated Vincent’s features. “That’s it? You’ll just undo everything and give back his money?”
James shook his head with a look of disbelief. “Have you ever unbound a soul, Cole? In nearly eight hundred years, have we ever unbound a soul?”
Sparks danced along Vincent’s fisted fingers and he spoke through clinched teeth. “We’ve never bound a soul.”
James glanced at the youngest and stood, stepping between the two, no doubt to offset any temper tantrum from Vincent. “Exactly. She’s experiencing bliss right now. If you perform an unbinding—if it can be done at all—she’ll regain her life’s pain. She’ll be in excruciating pain, Cole. We don’t even know if she’d survive.”
“I thought you were going to stay out of this.”
James folded his arms across his broad chest and lifted his chin. “That was before you decided to play God.”
Cole held up his hand and lowered his head in a small gesture of retreat. “Okay. The deed is done. I will personally keep posts on this girl and step in when needed.” He slugged the remainder of his beer and set the can on the bar with a heavy fist. “But, trust me on this. There’s not a more content woman in the world.”
He turned his back on his brothers and closed his eyes. Dread mounted with each thump of his heart.
He’d bound a soul. How could he have bound a soul?
Five
Cole entered the left hall beside the staircase and avoided the merry cherubs that lined the walls. His mother may have taken great care to decorate with ethereal elegance, but he could do without the cheer.
He paused as he reached for the light switch inside the study. The sheer movement sent him back to the family’s arrival at Cornerstone Deep as his father had refused to allow magic for mundane actions. Then, however, it was the igniting of an oil lamp.
A lazy man uses magic for such things.
Cole flipped it on and grinned as he heard the switch click. Light poured from the circular chandeliers that hung from the high arched ceiling.
Veering right, he walked behind the oversized desk and scanned the shelves of ancient tomes. His gaze gravitated to the three crystal globes at the center; gifts to each son from the gods of Meridian—a rare honor, indeed. Upon receipt of the first, his parents knew they would be blessed with two more children. What greater call than to be a family destined to travel the realms as overseers, protectors of the gateway to the planes?
The crystals’ iridescent surfaces gleamed. A mix of bitterness and reverence churned in his stomach. How could he have known their assignment to a Cornerstone realm would take over half their term of service? How could he have dreamed he’d meet his soul mate here in a dimension that offered no way for them to reunite? His heart ached for Meridian, his home, his repose. Yet, his soul cried for a miracle that would allow the rebirth of his love in this frigid world that bred cold, power-seeking hearts.
He placed his palm over the cool curve of his globe. It warmed and glowed at his touch. They had sat idle since before his father’s death and would most likely stay that way. The Triad of Focus needed to call on the Trinity’s power was unlikely sighting Vincent’s temper. Cole scoffed at the thought.
Hotheaded irritant.
He turned and ran a finger along the side of the cherry wood desk. Its smooth surface cast an unbroken aura, the spell cast by his mother to keep the furnishings protected holding strong. Her voice sang in his memory as she spent many warnings on Vincent. “Things are so fragile here. You must learn to control your temper, young one.”
A snort rode his breath at the recollection. The words had only irritated Vincent more. To add to the annoyance, Cole had christened him with the nickname Kid.
The master’s chair stood untouched. He’d never taken his place there when his father passed, feeling it required a rite of passage. Now however, the need to accept his position as Head of the Sentinels pressed on him with a weight of eternal consequences. He’d bound a soul and he knew as well as his brothers did that this time he’d gone too far.
A wide set of shelves framed the marble hearth along the east wall, displaying magical charms once owned by his father. From bulbous silver canisters to crystal vials, Cole knew each carefully placed one.
He stepped to the display and selected a shallow plinth topped with several golden circlets. His gaze flitted to the family’s Candle Vignette and he paused. Picking up the beloved cylinder, small comfort lighted on his heart. He touched the intrusion at the top with his fingertip and a pulse of information crossed his mind.
Mianna Shilo, sixteen forty-two, second quarte
r, twenty-third day.
A smile touched his lips. Setting the items on the desk, he heaved a breath and took his rightful place in the master’s chair. He passed his hand over the tripod plinth and the first golden circlet lifted, tilting back at an angle. The mirror within sparkled as the second level rose and clicked into position, making the two look like lazy spectacles. Once in place, the final circle leaned back, creating a tulip-shaped stage.
The Utopian awaited his command.
“Spying on a Grand Marshal’s subject.” A rumble rattled his throat as he pulled it closer. Disrespectful in the least. But his brothers’ rebuttals aside, his actions troubled him more than the concern for a lord’s privacy.
Why the kiss?
He waved his finger at the instrument and the scene in the alley played forth above the circle of mirrors. She was frightened—a common reaction. He watched the crystallites mesmerize her and cause her to yield and breathe. Then she looked at him.
Cole flushed as he recalled the moment. A bid had touched his soul and he responded with a breath of awe. Threads of his existence tugged him to her and before he knew it, he lifted from the kiss.
It was like a homecoming: the taste of her tongue, its soft caress, and sweet call. Time disappeared, and in that moment, his spirit soared—and it resulted in the Zephyrus breeze of shared breath.
Cole glanced at the large tapestries of Meridian that hung on the wall beside him. Wasn’t reincarnation limited to that gifted central realm? His experience couldn’t be possible—not here in Cornerstone Deep. Yet it matched the call of a reuniting.
Snatching the Vignette, he passed his hand over the instrument. An amber flame fluttered to life, a still-life portrait undulating within its faded margin. He stared at the big blue eyes that gazed at him. How many times had he viewed it, that innocent face framed by long dark brown ringlets?
His gaze shifted to the harvest subject of the night before. The similarity was there. The way she looked into his soul was there.
A cold shard pierced his heart.
Dear Arylin, Goddess of Love. “It can’t be.”
Cole glanced at the morning beams of sunlight as they poured through the gap in the drapery. He squinted away the sting in his tired eyes. His cheek felt numb where he’d braced it with his fist all night while watching Anna’s image sleep above the Utopian.
He dragged his hand over his face and then heaved a sigh. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
He glanced at the door. “Just appear there and stand watching.”
James smiled. “I didn’t just appear. I walked here and leaned on the door frame.”
“Okay, I hate it when you just stand there and watch me.”
“You’ve been in here all night.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
Cole wiped his hands over his head, smoothing his long hair. Avoiding the surprise in James’ emotions at Cole’s choice of taking the Master’s position, he pointed at a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat. I need to talk to you.”
James strolled over and sat down, lounging into the familiar counsel pose.
Despite his rash disposition of the evening before, he knew he could speak openly to this brother. In truth, his even-temperament was what kept the three Shilo brothers together. He waved at the door and it closed with a soft click. “Kid doesn’t need to hear this.”
“He’s in the next room. Better to seal the study. Eko silyst.”
The air thickened and pressed on Cole’s eardrums. Though it was the most secure form of communication, other than thought sharing, he wished James didn’t rely on the charm as much as he did. But, years of practice didn’t seem to help his lack of skill at telepathy.
Cole leaned his elbows on the desk. “About Lord Dressen’s order.”
“Yes?”
How do I explain this? “His calling for a curfew breaker as opposed to an individual in need of security.”
“Yes.” James set his elbows on his knees and pursed his lips.
A quirk tugged at Cole’s cheek. “Then there was the requirement of total control.”
“I assume it’s due to the fact the subject was a law-breaker and he wanted to assure good behavior. But, I think it bothered Vincent the most. He never even considered what you did last night an option.” He motioned to the Vignette on the desk. “Have you been consulting Father’s chronicles? You know you won’t find soul binding in any of them.”
“No. I knew there would be nothing like that among them.” Cole reached for the stout record keeper and passed a finger over the cleft. The picture of his love appeared in a flame.
James lowered his gaze. “Mianna.”
Swallowing the swell in his throat, Cole looked at the cherubic face. “James, I never considered what I did last night an option either.” As he looked at his brother, he sent his thought’s voice to reinforce his spoken words. “I didn’t intentionally seal that spell.”
James’ brow tightened.
“When she looked at me, I felt her soul call to me and I went to her. I didn’t inhale the spell to seal it with a kiss. I took a breath to relieve the intense...” he lifted his hand, trying to find the right words. How could he explain the innate connection, the call of a familiar soul to another in a realm known to have no rebirth?
He shook his head and picked up the Vignette. “I kissed her, James. And when I did—Gods, I didn’t want to stop. We shared a breath of Zephyrus, and it wasn’t like anything I’ve experienced since…”
“Mianna.”
Cole dragged his hand across his face and then looked James squarely in the eyes. “Take a close look at Mianna’s picture.”
James leaned over the desk and studied the innocent features of his past sister-in-law. He sighed and looked back at Cole.
“Now, look at the girl we just harvested.” He passed a hand over the sleeping image and the scene in the alley appeared. Motioning with his index finger, he singled out Anna as she looked at him before the kiss.
James’ features softened, but he met Cole with a resolute gaze. “No. That wasn’t Mianna, Cole. You know that’s not Mianna.”
“No, James, I don’t know.” Cole shot to a stand and rubbed a hand across his chest. Hearing his contemplations aloud set anxiety in his heart and seemed to solidify the truth. He paced to the far end of the room, trying to settle the knots in his stomach. “I watched her all night. There are similarities. Things only she did, things so deeply ingrained that they’re instinctive.”
James stood and met him at the picture window. His head leaned to the side, compassion seeping from his emotions. “Cole, people do a lot of things similarly.”
He allowed his heavy tone to accentuate his words. “Not these things.” He marched back to the desk. “I’m not talking about how a woman tosses her hair or scratches her nose.”
His lips curled into a sneer. “It’s not unusual for a servant’s position to evolve into mistress.”
“No.”
“And never has a Grand Marshal posted an order with intent of using the subject as a Chamber Maid.”
James flushed. “No.”
He stepped aside to allow James full view of the hologram. Blankets bunched as Lord Dressen rolled with his new servant and then buried his face in the waves at her neck. A low growl sounded from the reenactment.
Cole spoke through clinched teeth. “He went to her last night. The first night she was there.”
James looked away.
“In her naïve state, he had his way with her. She responded just as you said. By pure instinct.” He glanced at the couple then held up a hand to halt the movement. “I want you to look at this. And I want you to listen very closely to what she says.”
Distaste flashed in James’ eyes as he stepped to the desk. “Really, Cole.”
Ignoring the aversion in his brother’s tone, Cole lowered his finger to allow the scene to play forth. The innocent harvest subject threw h
er hands to her keeper’s back and created a triangle with her fingers and thumbs. Her voice rang clear as she cried, “Unsigh, Colhart!”
Cole dropped his hand to brush along the desk. The image stilled and he looked at his brother.
James returned his gaze. “One heart, Cole.”
“The spell I created for Mianna. The joining of emotions for shared passion. She kept it in her being all this time. Without realizing it, she recites a spell that will call on the passion of one man.”
Levels of intertwined confusion, anger, sympathy, and shock emanated from James as he looked away. “You honestly think she used to be your wife.”
Taken aback by the absurd question, Cole raked his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean think? Doesn’t that just prove it?”
“Reincarnation doesn’t exist in this dimension, Cole. Father tried for years to find Mother. She had to have heard those words somewhere.”
“Father admitted himself it could have been because she held Meridian blood and we were in a foreign realm.” He grabbed the Vignette and then held it an inch from his brother’s face. “That’s in his chronicles.”
James lowered his gaze and set his hands on his waist. “Please don’t break that. It’s intricate.”
Fire flared in Cole’s gut, and he grasped the magical album tighter to hold to his temper. He turned with a brittle huff and set the treasure back on the desk with a sharp clunk. “That’s it? You’re worried about how hard it will be to reassemble a picture album when... When I just bound the soul of the only woman I ever really loved.”
“You can’t think that way. Whatever happened, happened to a lawbreaker. Not the ghost of your memory.” James straightened and met his gaze. “Father only searched for Mother because she did have Meridian blood. Her soul was born to a realm of rebirth. A Utopian would register it. Cornerstone Deep didn’t allow her reincarnation.”
“Do we really know that? All this time we believed it, but now I’m not convinced.” He angled his head to emphasize his words. “I know that woman’s soul called to me. And I know it was Mianna’s.”
