Blakeshire (Web of Hearts and Souls)

by Jamie Magee

  I was given a golden chalice and forced to drink from it; the taste was rich with iron. Blood. I tried to spit it out, but the evil souls with faces made of ink, forced me to drink more. The next thing I felt was my body falling as I heard dark chants pouring into the air around me. I had fallen into freezing water. As I sunk lower into this abyss, I was powerless to fight, to break free from my binds and swim to the surface to claim air. I felt something long and thick pull me deeper into whatever I was drowning in. What felt like pure muscle surrounded my body. I fought against this mass, and when I managed to break free, instead of swimming away, I swam deeper into the murky cavern. I was desperate to reach something or someone—a dark grief seized my emotion. It was very clear in my mind that if I could not reach what I was after, then death would be a welcome relief from the agony that was already seizing my soul.

  With a gasp, I sat straight up in my bed. With wide eyes, I took in my surroundings, finally remembering I was in Olivia’s house, in her guest room.

  I glanced to my side to find Drake gone. Was he even here? Did I dream that, too?

  I pulled myself up, then covered my eyes with the palms of my hands as I slowly rocked back and forth and tried to understand that wicked nightmare. It was just as vivid as the one I had that warned me that I would fight Bianca in The Realm at Willow’s side. I knew I should be terrified simply because that dream came true, and it was even more wicked when it did.

  I had a deep, morbid feeling that I had just witnessed my death. A raging anger resonated hazardously in the core of my soul. I was sick of this crap, of evil targeting me for nothing more than fun and games. I was going to end this one way or another.

  There was something more, though. I had a dream before that, I know I did. Peppermint. I remembered peppermint. Or did I? I glanced to the foot of the bed, then the balcony door, and struggled to remember how I fell asleep in the first place. Nothing. There was a void where I knew clear memories should be.

  I took in a deep breath and counted backward from ten, an exercise my mom had taught me long ago. In that slow count, I was not supposed to think or ask my mind a single question. When I reached ten, I could ask one, and only one.

  I hesitated after I thought the number one; I had too many questions in my mind. Finally I thought, What did I dream before? A picture slid through my mind—me marking Drake’s arm. Glancing at the edge of the bed, I saw the balcony, felt the cold, felt an understanding and determination, but who or what gave me that was now absent. So frustrating.

  I reached for the pillow that Drake had been lying on and held it to my face. I could smell mint there, but it was not as strong as what my memory was struggling to recall. There was something there, something in that dream; a direction, a reason behind the number seven, a reason behind how or why Drake and I were twisted now and in the past. I wasn’t jealous of Willow anymore, at least not to the same degree.

  Maybe it was Drake getting through to me, him knocking down the walls around my heart that was giving me that degree of understanding. How could I fall asleep a broken, insecure girl and wake with forgiveness, determination, and declaration of claim on the very soul that was residing within Drake’s intoxicating image?

  I grunted as I struggled with my mind. I couldn’t figure it out. I glanced to the bedside table; the marker was still there. I turned crimson as I imagined him waking up and finding my silent confession on his arm. Where was he?

  Normally, I would be able to sense anyone within a half-mile of myself, but after last night I doubted I still had that power, because right now I could swear I was alone in this house—and the people in Chara never left me completely alone.

  I had to get to that palace. I had to search every single dark corner of that wicked place. For what, I didn’t know. Not yet anyway. It had to do with that ghost of an ugly woman. I know it did.

  Finding no clear resolution, I grudgingly kicked off my covers and headed for the bathroom, deciding a shower was needed to wake me up. I felt like I’d slept for days.

  When I came out, my room was undisturbed. I figured that surely someone would have heard the water running and come to check on me. Maybe I was alone.

  I pulled my boots on, found my hoodie, and took a deep breath as I went to search for a way to get back to Esterious.

  Two doors down from the room I was sleeping in, I saw a glimpse of Aden. I stopped at the threshold and pushed the door open a little more. He was sound asleep, lying in the center of the bed. I hesitated. I could swear that faintly I could hear a violin around him. As my eyes moved across the room, the sound halted. My glance moved back to Aden. I decided to let him sleep; his dreams were peaceful, and I knew he had to be as exhausted as I felt.

  I swallowed nervously, knowing that he was less than a hundred feet from me when I woke up and only five feet from me now, and I couldn’t feel his emotions—that is, unless I really struggled to focus.

  I guess they are serious when they say be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. When I was sick with this insight, I wanted it to go away; I know I said and thought that a million times over. But truth was, I didn’t want it to go away. I just wanted it to go back to normal.

  I knew I would have to have my guard up now more than ever. Obviously, souls would have to be right next to me in order for me to sense them, which was not good considering the number of enemies I was accumulating.

  The door to the master bedroom was open and the bed was made, so I knew that Olivia and Chrispin were wide awake somewhere. I made my way to the stairs, listening carefully for anyone below. I thought I heard plates moving, but no words, leaving me to doubt that either Chrispin or Olivia were here. Those two thought aloud, which meant someone was always speaking what they were pondering around them.

  I stopped in the shadow of the threshold that led to the kitchen. I had caught a glimpse of Preston.

  Preston was Drake’s baby brother; he was only six or seven. He was the first person I met from this dimension. Something about him had caused me to feel immediate love and the desire to protect him. Maybe it was the innocent shape of his lush cheeks, or those long curls that were blond at one time but turning darker with each passing day. He was a vision of innocence that made my heart melt each time my eyes found him.

  For the oddest reason, I felt relief when I first met him; it was if I were overjoyed that he had found life, peace, and was happy, but that made little sense to me at the time, or even now.

  Beyond Drake, I had never felt so connected with another soul at first sight. Preston may have been a child, but his energy carried wisdom well beyond that age; he would say or do things at the right moment that would lead you to believe that he may very well be able to see or sense the future.

  His back was to me. I smirked when I saw that his long, dirty blond hair was a ravaged mess. It looked like he hadn’t been awake long. He was wearing Drake’s button up black shirt, and it hung to his feet below the stool he was perched on.

  An empty plate was in front of him, and he was gulping a large glass of orange juice. I watched as he sat it down, wiped the mustache of juice off his mouth, then silently began to move his arms.

  I furrowed my brow and leaned a little closer. He was signing, but that didn’t make any sense; he could speak, and he could hear. I tilted my head so I could see who he was silently speaking to.

  Standing in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand was Drake. He was dressed down: dark jeans and deep purple thermal shirt that seemed to carefully sculpt his lean warrior’s body. His dark hair was waywardly tossed out of his eyes. He didn’t look like a stoic prince right then; he looked like a big brother having a silent argument with a little boy that stared at him as if he were the sun itself.

  Drake flipped the omelets he was cooking before he put down the spatula and began to answer Preston in the same fashion.

  A slow, sweet smile spread across my awestruck expression. The way he moved his arms, how angelically he shaped each word, was m
esmerizing to me. All I knew about signing was the alphabet, but I would give almost anything to know what they were talking about right now. It seemed so poetic, yet casual at the same time.

  Preston laughed silently as he rapidly answered Drake in the same manner. This went on until Drake was forced to halt the discussion and retrieve the omelet from the pan and place it on Preston’s plate.

  I eagerly waited for them to sign again as I watched Drake pour eggs into the pan to make several more omelets. Once Drake was sure everything was cooking normally, he continued whatever silent argument they were having. Preston moved his head from side to side, then signed something quickly, and whatever he said caused Drake to look to the shadow I was standing in.

  I jolted back before he could see me, and when I did I ran into a mountain of a man who cupped my mouth and leaned me against the wall. Scratch man; this was a teen boy, maybe a year or so younger than me, but his grey eyes held far more years in them. My hands braced against his chest, feeling the thin metal armor that all of Drake’s guards wore under their suits.

  If he weren’t suffocating the hell out of me, I might have mused at how this boy was surely a heartbreaker; nearly every feature on his face was angelic.

  “See me,” he whispered as he ducked his head down to look into my eyes as his grip on me lessened.

  It came instantly. His name was Zander. He was an orphaned boy that my Drake had saved long ago. A soothsayer, among other things. He was the only one Drake had unshielded trust with outside of his family, but even that statement wasn’t true—Drake considered him family.

  I almost bit his hand in frustration and jealousy when I saw what he really wanted to show me: Donalt telling Drake he needed to take a woman. That he needed to practice for when his queen arrived. Then I saw a clever plan hatched. Zander had the gift of dream persuasion. Together, he and Drake had found a weak-minded girl and used her—her dreams anyway. This girl, who was breathtaking, thought that she had a private relationship with Drake. She worshipped him and was on his arm at every formal occasion. Zander was quick to point out Drake’s bored gaze, his half-hearted attempts to play his role with her.

  In a deep, near silent whisper he spoke, “You will not see the real her before the next moon, so when you do see this image know that it is a ploy to bring you down.” He leaned in next to my ear and said, “Give them hell, Sovereign.”

  Once that was said, Zander released his hold on me.

  “Look who finally woke up,” he said in an elevated voice.

  He leaned in the doorway. “I’m heading back now. I’ll be sure to express how hard I tried, yet again, to get you to return.” And with that, he winked at me, then strolled past me out the front door.

  My face was flushed with both embarrassment and anger. Zander only wanted to give Drake an excuse before he needed one, but he managed to prove that I was weaker than I thought. I had no idea he was anywhere near me.

  As casually as I could, I stepped over the threshold and into the kitchen.

  Drake’s entrancing eyes connected with mine instantly; there went my heart again. After countless dreams and a week of being in his presence, I should be over this. My heart should not react this way at the sight of him.

  A daring smile lingered on the edges of Drake’s lips as he let his eyes fall to Preston and playfully narrowed his stare at him.

  “Your breakfast is almost ready,” Preston said to me as he pulled me to the stool that was next to his.

  Okay, so I wasn’t crazy. He could speak and hear. With questioning eyes, I moved my stare back to Drake. He wasn’t looking at me anymore; he was tending to the stove, working that spatula like a short order pro.

  “I was going to bring your breakfast up to you and hope that it smelled good enough to wake you up,” he said over his shoulder to me.

  I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach and was thankful I woke up on my own. More than likely, he would have taken the way I’d woken up as a rejection to his kindness.

  “Is it late?” I asked, glancing to the window, wondering what time it was.

  “No, but it would have been nice if you had woken up yesterday.” Drake glanced over his shoulder at me. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Yesterday?” I breathed.

  He nodded once as he went back to working on breakfast. “We didn’t go to bed until a few hours before dawn, but I thought surely you would wake up last night.”

  “I was dreaming deep,” I muttered as I felt Preston’s stare. My gaze met his; this child emanated peace and calm. Even though that dream was bothering me, I couldn’t help not being troubled with it at the moment.

  For some odd reason, I felt an instinct kick in. I reached my arm around him and pulled his tiny body against mine, wanting assurance that he was breathing, that I could feel his energy, his life in my arms.

  “I’m okay,” Preston whispered as he leaned into me just as naturally as I had pulled him to me.

  Drake glanced over his shoulder and smiled sweetly when he saw our embrace.

  I held Preston against me until Drake set a plate before him and me. Daringly, I smiled at Drake as he pulled up a stool and set a plate in front of himself.

  “Since when do you cook?”

  He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Call me paranoid.”

  “Not of cooking,” I said after I let out a moan. This had to be the best omelet I had ever tasted. The flavors were so vibrant, managing to touch every single one of my taste buds at once.

  “Good?” he asked as he watched me chew every bit with utter care. All I could do was nod. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now, but even if I were full I would have devoured this. I could swear I could taste the care that went into every ingredient.

  The three of us ate in silence. They never signed in front of me, but I could feel their stares and smirks speaking volumes.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked when I had finished my feast.

  “Who is everyone?” Drake asked just before he finished the last of his orange juice.

  “Charlie and Draven, Olivia and Chrispin.”

  “Not sure,” Drake supplied as he stood and gathered our dishes. So he cleans, too? I felt like a fool for the speech I had given him the other night, the one where I told him his world was not real, that it couldn’t be real if he was waited on hand and foot and people were forced to be nice to him simply because of his occupation.

  “Are we going home now?”

  He froze in place for an instant, then continued what he was doing. I looked at Preston and mouthed, What is with him?, which caused him to giggle and Drake to glance over his shoulder at me.

  We both tried to hide our guilty expressions, but we failed and I joined in with Preston’s innocent laugh.

  Drake playfully pointed his finger at Preston just as he finished cleaning up our mess. “How do I get you to Felicity?” he asked Preston.

  “She’s right there,” Preston said, nodding to the window.

  In the distance on a hilltop, I could see Libby, Willow’s baby sister. A second later, Felicity came up behind her. I didn’t know her that well. I knew her soul mate, Brady, simply because he was with Willow when she came to ask for our help.

  Preston reached over and hugged me just before he hopped down from his stool and hugged Drake. He waved to me once more before he charged out the back door and ran toward Libby.

  We both watched as he met them, then they disappeared over the hill.

  “You never answered my question,” I said quietly as I glanced at him. I swear, I could stare at him all day long and never lose interest. There was just so much mystery in every gesture and movement of his body. So far, he had managed to surprise me every day that I had known him in this life.

  Slowly, he turned to face me, carefully moving around the bar that was separating us and maneuvering his tall, lean body in front of me. “Tell me, why would you want to spend your birthday mucking around an old palace full of haunts when you could go anywhere in th
e universe you wanted?”

  I furrowed my brow as I silently counted the days since I’d left my home. If I had managed to sleep through yesterday, then I guess he was right; it was my birthday.

  “Because I want to be there.”

  “Why?”

  I glanced away.

  “Madison Marie,” he breathed.

  “I don’t know. I just know I want to be there. I feel like you are keeping me away for a reason.”

  “A bad reason?” he pushed.

  “I don’t know,” I said as I dared to look into those spellbinding eyes. “You just act weird when I ask you to take me there. I know it’s dangerous and that other stuff, but still.”

  He leaned into me. Feeling the sensation of falling backward forced me to clasp my legs and arms around what was in front of me, which happened to be Drake. Before I could act like that was an accident, he moved even closer to me, allowing no room to separate us. Heat absorbed my skin as the scent of roses filled the room, and I felt his energy seductively caressing my skin.

  “I act weird,” he repeated, angling his head down to where little to no space separated us.

  “You tense,” I said under my breath as I struggled to hold myself back. I wanted to kiss him so bad.

  “You call it home,” he murmured as his lips brushed against mine.

  “Am I suffocating you?” I definitely didn’t mean to do that. I mean, that place was vast enough that I was sure that if we really wanted to, we could go weeks without crossing each other’s paths. I admit, I was a little heartbroken at the thought of that. I would have thought with how forward he was that commitment was not a fear of his. I could be wrong. I have been before.

  His lips connected with mine. I quietly sighed, feeling how soft they were, how perfectly they moved with mine. Drake had the most insane way of kissing—you never knew where it would lead because no matter how subtle it was, passion was there; a gentle, yet all-consuming compassion.