by Kiki Howell
“Tomorrow we will be bound together with such strong ties separation will be difficult, near impossible, actually. Our souls will be bound together for a lifetime,” Darcaryn added. His tone had turned husky, maybe a tad loving.
“Yes. Sounds lovely,” came out of her mouth, though her brows furrowed. Clarity, a moment of sweet clarity enraged her. “No. No. No! This isn’t right. I don’t want to marry you. I love Aedan. Get me out of here. You’re messing with my mind. How could you want me like that?”
Darcaryn flew from his chair, his top shirt buttons undone, his hair wild, his face red, and his eyes bulging. He wrapped his hands around her throat. She gasped for breath, for the few faint wisps she could still suck in.
“You will not speak his name again. You love me. Soon, there will be nothing left to protest. We will be married, joined in all ways, and your mind, your heart, will learn to live with it. We are meant to be,” he spat the words in her face, releasing her throat.
She coughed, gasping to pull in the air she’d missed.
He grabbed her cup of tea, held it to her lips, and tipped it. Liquid poured into her mouth. Her throat obeyed the instinct to swallow.
Gulping to finish, she fought for her breath again. Her lungs remained desperate for air after their scare.
In seconds, though, her mind began to numb again. She felt calm and cool, but still not quite collected. Maybe she would just accept her fate in time. The fear passed as quickly as it came. She sat there, not caring that Darcaryn pawed at her face and ran his hands through her hair as he apologized for his outburst.
She longed for the fear to come back, but couldn’t hold onto it. She wanted for anger, but the feelings wouldn’t come. Even butterflies in her stomach would be better than this insane numbness. She marveled how she could want for something, vaguely that is, but still not achieve it, not be able to feel it. Thirsty now, she picked up her teacup. A tiny tear slipped from her eye as she let the liquid rush down her throat. She gulped the lukewarm, herbal tasting water.
In some bizarre moment of psychotic self-actualization, she said good-bye to herself, to her life, and to her mind. Peace descended.
Darcaryn praised her, and then placed a light kiss on her lips.
The faintest sense of revulsion at his show of affection passed through her mind like a light breeze she couldn’t enjoy. She mourned a loss she could no longer describe. Then, she forgot exactly what she’d longed for in the first place.
Darcaryn walked away from her. He moved to a piano in the large sitting room.
Kyna sank back into the soft, white couch she sat on. She let her drugged gaze drift over the room, lulled by the sound of the dark, ominous tones Darcaryn made with his fingers on the ivories. The pattern painted on the ceiling became the focus of her study. Clouds, blue and white, wispy, sat stationary on the arches of the ceiling. Ivy, butterflies, and flowers adorned each edge. No dark colors, all only pastel in hue, they blurred and cleared. The butterflies appeared to be flapping their wings. The flowers looked like they swayed in the wind.
Unaware of time passing, she did react to the conclusion of Darcaryn’s endless song. Gloom hung over her like a dense fog. She shivered as she gave into her sudden sadness. Yet, she didn’t mind. She lost herself in feeling, just to have one, any. Darcaryn’s warm hand on her cold skin startled her. She craved the small rise in her heartbeat and the small rush of blood through her veins.
“You’ve grown cold in your gown. Let’s get you into the tub and then to bed. We have an exciting day ahead of us, and you need rest to adjust to it all. The tea will give you a dreamless sleep. No demonic visitors tonight, I promise you that,” he comforted, punctuated by a light kiss on her temple.
She wanted some, someone, but the image, large, shadowy, ghostlike, slipped through her mind. Darcaryn supported her, his arm tight around her waist, protective, as they walked into a bedroom, one as white and beige as the last room they’d been in. Just as vast, in this one an oversized bed sat to one side, along with another white couch, and a white wooden armor. She wondered if it contained all black dresses inside.
Darcaryn pulled thick, tan curtains, and she realized a claw foot tub sat in the alcove behind them. He not only started the water to fill the bathtub, but also got the fire going in the fireplace directly across the room with a simple flick of his wrist.
He then laid out a nightgown on the bed, black, of course, but sheer and sexy. The likes of such she’d only seen in magazines. It rested in stark contrast to the thick, white comforter.
“I will leave you now, let you bathe, and then you will get into bed. Next I see you will be at the altar, my love. Rest well,” he said, pressing another kiss to her forehead and squeezing her hand.
After he closed the door behind him, she found herself mesmerized by the steam rising up from the water streaming into her tub. Out of place in this world, out of sync with her own thoughts, the fading chill on her skin became the only real thing she felt, physical or otherwise. In this state of forced numbness, she lost the will to fight for her own body. She found herself at peace with that decision.
Chapter Fifteen
AFTER SLEEPING LIKE the dead, Kyna awoke to the sound of her mother’s voice. More tea poured down her throat, she felt refreshed, but in a state of floating along with the current of things. Surreal, as if she were watching a movie, seeing herself through her own eyes.
Her mother, along with several other women dressed as servants, got her ready for her wedding.
She didn’t say a word while being dressed and groomed, nor through breakfast. She just fought to grasp hold of an elusive feeling that washed over her, moment to moment, then slipped away. She craved fear tingling over her skin, allowing her to at least feel something, until it passed. Anger, a hot ball of fire in the pit of her stomach, she gave thanks for when it built inside her for brief seconds. Neither, though, could she react to as she wanted. They kept pouring the tea down her throat, and then refilling her glass. Not even good, she still found herself craving it. Drinking the wretched brew willingly, cup after cup, though she loathed herself for doing so. Yet, she clung to even that. While weighty, even guilt, vague and short-lived, trumped numb.
Peace came like a thief, stole her sanity, and made her move like a rag doll. Only, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, in a nefarious, maybe even sadistic sort of way, she thought she looked seductive and beautiful. Her long, auburn locks fell around her shoulders in large coils some woman had meticulously created. The veil glossed over those and down her back to the floor, creating a thin black puddle. A black hole she identified with. The dress hugged her every curve, soft and dark. Yet, it sparkled in all the right places. Her image made her smile even though her pulse began to pound. A dark goddess. A shiver snaked down her spine.
Her hands fell to the gown, rubbed over it, and picked at it, like a fussy bride. In her mind, she fought to discover the nagging feelings matriculating, a growing uneasiness and a mild sense of disgust.
“No bride should frown so,” her mother soothed, even though the sweetness of her voice grated on Kyna’s nerves, and yet, she reveled in the sensation. “Just cold feet. Have some more tea. It will warm them up right away.”
She drank. Couldn’t help herself. A junkie. She numbed, but not before a tear slipped from her eye. Immediately, a servant dabbed it away with a silk cloth. Kyna mourned the loss of such a show of mental reaction.
Complacent to the brink of nausea, she followed as her mother lead her to the ballroom she’d been shown yesterday. Today the place looked completely different. In fact, when the doors opened, she took a step back. Darcaryn spotted her. Looking in his eyes, a wave of want for something unnamable broke over her.
Saoirse pushed her forward into the sinister, scary environment. Kyna knew this, but couldn’t react appropriately.
Closing her eyes tightly, she wished for...for something...for someone, to save her from herself, from this nightmare.
Dozens of b
lack candles, hanging from the walls and set on tables, faintly lit the room. The only illumination save for the thin rays of sunshine fighting to get around the long, black curtains hung over the floor to ceiling windows. An altar sat in the middle of it all, covered with a large, red candle, a glowing stone, and a silver chalice, along with rope and a dagger. The sight of it all made her heart skip a beat. She shivered. She numbed.
Moving closer, she saw wedding rings, large, bright, with dozens upon dozens of tiny diamonds adorning the matching round bands. A plaque in a dish holder sat behind it all. Black with white rings and a star, it bore a white animal like skull with black horns. She swallowed hard, and then sucked in a deep breath. The intense desire to run passed, leaving her with a yearning to chase it.
Music played, flowing throughout the room. The dissonant sounds with long crescendos of deep chords aroused her. She trembled, but felt gloriously alive. Merciful anger laced with the sinister suspense of the unknown had her searching the faces of those gathered around the table. There waited a cast of devil worshipers with more money than they could buy taste with, obviously.
A gong sounded three times, each impact ringing though her body, stirring the fight or flight response. She found herself surrounded.
Darcaryn looked her way and nodded.
She found she wanted him more than she wanted to leave.
A man behind the table spoke, “In Nomine Dei Satana Luciferi Excelsi! In the name of Satan, I call upon the forces of Darkness and the infernal power within. Consecrate this place with the power, love, and the light of Lucifer. Join with us, as we bind these two who shall be as one."
On and on the man recited. His voice sounded loud but deep as he welcomed Satan and called upon the elements. With words about darkness and some blue light of hell, a man bound one of her hands to one of Darcaryn’s. With the cup of wine handed to her and the dagger handed to Darcaryn, a menacing power grew around them. Compelled, she stood still, forced into a statue like state though her pulse pounded and her head throbbed.
They may as well have bound her entire body, as useless as it had become once the emotions flooded back into her being in an off rhythm, coming and going, leaving her to welcome them, yet try not to succumb to them at the same time. She assumed whatever caused the occurrence could only be as dire as even the presence of the devil they’d just called to join them in their ceremony. Sounded sick, so about right.
Her mouth dehydrated, and her neck tensed. The smell of something smoky and spicy offended her nose, burnt her lungs with each heaving breath. The man behind the table continued on chanting about roots and buds, unbreakable bonds, and Satan. Always Satan.
Her gaze darted around the people, looking for the horned demon to appear. She expected some grandiose version of the shadowy demons that had haunted her sleep.
Her mind screamed this familiar name that brought about no visual images in her mind. Music droned on in the background. The energy, dark and heavy, pounded against her from all sides, brought her back to life.
Aedan, in all his muscle bound glory, appeared in her drunken imagination.
They’d miscalculated somehow. Her magic, a warm, pure, and white energy, circled like a tornado inside her. Her thoughts and emotions cleared. This couldn’t have been part of their plan. Someone had screwed up royally here. Fear crashed into her power, caused a storm of epic proportions around her soul. Without a plan, she gave into the strength that emerged again inside her.
Beneath the black of her veil, she watched the light emerge from her body. The chalice of wine dropped from her hand to bounce off the floor with a metallic clang, splashing a fruity and spicy scented liquid up her legs.
The priest stopped speaking as Darcaryn stepped away from her. He yanked his bound hand away, tried to free himself, and then started to scream like a man on fire.
She watched, mesmerized, as Darcaryn fell to his knees, still yelling, still fighting with the cord, desperate to free himself from her.
In an instant, the many chandeliers hanging from the ceiling blinded the room. Growls, screams, and angry directions filled the place along with the flood of light that put stars before her eyes.
Darcaryn, now free of his bindings, fell away from her as her vision cleared.
Gunshots rang out, but she stood, unaffected now, a ball of light in the center of the room. Her power pushed away from her. She watched as it doused the evil energy in the room.
She heard punches, grunts, and more gunfire erupt. She feared none of it. Nothing touched her. She only sensed her energy shoving the chaos away. Giving into the invincible feeling, she formed balls of energy with her hands. Careful not to let them turn to flames, she formed air, strong gusts that moved everything further and further away from her.
Opening her eyes, she witnessed the men in black being swept to the walls along with an abundance of doused, black candles and other satanic crap. Any remaining fear left her in a rush. Other, positive emotions grew, made her feel human again. Overwhelming at first, she gloried in hatred, fear, compassion, need, courage, and love. She squared her shoulders. A cold sweat broke out, caressing its way over her body, but quickly dried on her warm skin.
Yet, the fast heartbeat, her shallow breathing, and the trembling of her goose-fleshed limbs all stopped when she heard her name yelled...in Aedan’s voice.
Turning toward the glorious sound, she let her heavy arms drop to her sides, stopping the flow of power.
He stood within an army of men, cops she assumed, along with maybe more of his SEAL friends. Men scattered the floor, some in the black dress of her wedding party, others in bright, yellow jackets, along with some in plain clothes. Those standing scurried about, checking the severity of wounds. Sirens sounded in the distance as Aedan swept her up into his arms.
“I thought I'd lost you,” he breathed into her ear.
“I thought you did, too, honestly, when I could think such thoughts. They drugged me. They spelled me,” she choked, tears changing her voice.
With her rush of emotions, she didn’t even try to stop them. They felt too damn good, just like Aedan’s arms. Real. Secure. Magical.
“Drugged you? Fuck! What was this ritual?”
She looked around her, but only shook her head.
“What was it, Kyna? Did Darcaryn have anything to do with it? Did you find your aunt?” he stormed.
“You mean my birth mother? Yes, I found her, aunt, mother, sicko, whatever you want to call her. And as far as Darcaryn goes—”
Words failed her again.
“Darcaryn what?”
She noticed Aedan looking around him, looking for Darcaryn somewhere in the rubble of men.
“This ritual was some sort of satanic wedding,” she whispered.
“Whose wedding?” he asked, hissing the words through gritted teeth. All at once, he stopped cold. He turned his head slowly to hers with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“Yours and Darcaryn’s?” he growled, a savage sound that vibrated his whole body.
“Yes. It didn’t finish, though.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered if it did. I love you. You didn’t love him, right?”
“They tried to drug me, or spell me, or both, so I would. But in the end, something about the power evoked in the room, it actually, in some extreme opposition to mine, or something, broke the spell they had over me. I woke back up to myself just moments ago. Someone screwed up in a big way, is all I can imagine. Thankfully. I can’t tell you how maddening these last hours have been, since Darcaryn took me. I woke up in a bed with him instead of you the morning after we made love. Then, I lost myself. I had moments of rational thoughts, but I couldn’t hold onto...I couldn’t even think of your name by the end, or see your face in my memory,” she cried. “I love you. Please get me out of here.”
They turned to the door only to find it decorated with Darcaryn’s body, a dark shadow against the flames that appeared to shine behind him. With a raised hand, he pulled from the f
ire he’d created. Red, yellow, and blue flames formed, full of tiny serrated tongues that licked at his skin. He poised to attack.
As the ball of flames grew, a demonic image took shape in the middle. Teeth, like a thousand vampire incisors all shoved together in one mouth, showed as the demon face did something akin to a smile.
Gathering her power, she called to the water trickling from a wall fountain. The blue liquid formed white caps as it flooded to her hand in a huge wave. With a piece of the ocean at her command, she sent the wave to Darcaryn.
“Let that cool you off, you demonic bastard,” she screamed for the pleasure of her own ears, sure no one could possibly hear her.
The hiss of steam drowned out all the other sounds as water and fire met. A demon screamed in agony. The sound pierced her already battered eardrums. With her shoulders up as if they could protect her ears, she pulled more water from her source. The effort exhausting, she still continued on with all the energy at her disposal. She had enough rage to fuel it for hours.
She weaved this wave into a vortex as it began to break above her hand,. A tornado of water spun across the floor to the target of her wrath. Each flame met its match, hissed out one by one.
Darcaryn fought, punched at the waterspout. His fists flailed against a powerful but soft assailant, cool blue blankets over orange flickers of light. His frantic battle soon stopped as the water sucked him down and filled his lungs.
Kyna experienced her previously impending groom’s death as if the streams of water were her own hands around his neck.
Empowered, she watched him die. Only the faint hint of something akin to guilt washed over her along with the realization she’d taken a life. How many had he taken or destroyed, or would he have destroyed in the future, her brain countered.
