“It’s not your fault,” Draven replied quietly. “I chose to come here. And no matter what has been done, we were right to try—the Oracle asked us to.”
I shook my head in disagreement. We had not been right to try. This had been a stupid, reckless mission.
“We need to get out of here,” Draven continued.
“No, you need to rest,” Bijarki replied firmly. Draven grabbed for his arm, finding the material of his shirt and pulled him closer.
“Do as I say,” he bit out. “We can’t remain here. There’s a stone in my pocket. Re-carve the runes.”
Bijarki averted his eyes so I couldn’t see his expression. He took the stone out, and held it in his hand.
“Please, Draven,” he said. “Don’t make me do this. Let’s wait. You’re in enough pain.”
“Do it,” Draven replied, his teeth clenched.
With a trembling hand, Bijarki parted his friend’s shirt. The runes from earlier were still plainly visible—the blood had dried, but the carved skin was red and puckered. It looked painful, and I knew that if Bijarki were to go over them again, whatever pain the Druid currently felt would be doubled.
“We can stay,” I said hastily. “It doesn’t matter. Why not just go back tomorrow?”
Draven shook his head.
“We leave now. I don’t want to take the risk. We need to get back to the house. Unless, of course, you want the Daughters to return and inflict more of their benevolence on us?”
“Do it,” I said to Bijarki.
I reached for Draven’s hand. I held him tightly, trying to offer the small amount of comfort that I could. Bijarki cut into his flesh again, holding on to his other arm to stop him shaking. I felt the smallest flicker of pity for the incubus. I wouldn’t have liked to be in his place. I imagined that he felt every cut he made almost as keenly as the Druid did.
Draven only hissed as Bijarki got to work. I could barely look, and it wasn’t long before my eyes started to fill with tears and blur, thankfully restricting my vision.
I would have given anything to turn back time in that moment. Had I understood the consequences, I would never have opened my big mouth. Damn the Daughters to hell—they might have been beautiful, but that couldn’t hide the fact that they were the most wretched, despicable creatures I’d come across in both the natural and supernatural world.
Vita
Bijarki and Serena helped the Druid stagger to his feet. Blood ran off him, from his chest and eyes, staining him a brilliant red and matting the front strands of his golden-brown hair.
“Take it easy,” murmured Bijarki as Draven tried to stand on his own. Bijarki and Serena stood either side of him, supporting him as best they could, their arms tucked under his and flung over his back.
“All of you make a connection,” the Druid instructed hoarsely.
We hurried to do his bidding. Bijarki took my hand again, and though my first reaction was to yank it back and move to where Aida or Jovi were, I didn’t want to cause unnecessary fuss. I held on tight, knowing what would be heading our way when we reached the mists. Aida came and stood on the other side of me, clasping my hand and taking Phoenix’s with the other.
Once we were all linked, we started to move toward the sandstorm. I dreaded re-entering it, hearing the voices again with their horrible calls that seemed to penetrate to the truth of my soul—secrets I kept hidden suddenly exposed in a way that made me feel violated and bare, as if they could peer inside my head and heart.
We stepped inside the storm, and like last time, visibility became nil as the hot sands whipped at our faces. It no longer felt like dusk. In the middle of the storm it was impossible to tell what time of day it was or what direction we were heading in.
“Remember not to listen to the voices!” Serena called out. Aida’s hand tightened on mine in reassurance, and, I suspected, fear.
We kept moving. It wasn’t long till the strange whistles started up. I had thought about those noises when we’d entered the desert. I hadn’t understood what they were before, but now I thought that the noises were calls—the shape-shifters letting others know that their prey was near.
This time I saw the flickering movements of the creatures before I heard them calling. They ran in and out of the billows of sand, sometimes moving on two legs and making their appearance more human, other times on all fours like emaciated beasts, their spines arched backward and their long hind legs making them look hideously unnatural and perverted.
Vita.
I heard them call my name, and I tried to shut them out, thinking of other things, anything to keep their voices at bay. I started to list, alphabetically, the herbs and plants that Zerus had taught me. I recited a rhyme that my mom used to sing to me as a kid…Anything and everything—my mind jumping from one subject to the next in a panic to keep their calls at bay.
Vita.
Do you still want him now?
After the story you heard?
Why do you even think he told it? Was it a warning to you?
I held Aida’s hand tightly. I could feel her trembling, or perhaps it was me, I couldn’t tell. The sands whipped at my face and hair. I shut my eyes, trying not to see anything as I moved one foot in front of the other with painstaking slowness.
I could hear them laughing. It was a cruel, cold sound—twisted laughter that bore so little resemblance to the real thing that it sounded more like screams of pain. I shuddered, returning to the rhyme, returning to images of The Shade—the redwood trees in autumn, the lake when it was frosted at the edges, the lighthouse, the sea in summer and the foam of the waves as they hit the shore. Images of my mom laughing, the broad smile of my dad, Zerus talking softly to himself as he moved through the forests, touching the bark of a tree, caressing a leaf and telling it how well it was growing.
You’ll end up like that Daughter of Eritopia, Vita… lost and alone, wandering the land with a hollow and dead heart…waiting for him to love you.
He never will, Vita, a mouse like you? No, you’ll never be loved. It will elude you, like the control over your own elements…a useless semi-fae, with barely enough power to light a match.
“No!” Aida cried out, yanking on my arm. I held on tight, helping her fight her own demons while I simultaneously battled with my own.
Nobody notices you, the voices whispered—closer this time, as if they were drawing in.
Come with us.
We would never dismiss you, we would love you.
This time I sighed with relief. If they were calling to me to come with them, it was almost over. I just needed to overcome the final call—the pull on my heart that was meant to make me want to break the chain. Perhaps it was because it was the second time, and I knew all too well what their aim was, and knew I wasn’t alone in this—all my friends were battling the same cries, the same secrets being used against them to cause pain—that I managed to hang on to Aida and Bijarki.
His grip had remained firm and consistent throughout the journey, never once trying to yank away. When he felt my grip falter, despite my best efforts, he held on tighter.
Slowly the storm started to grow sparser, and we stepped out from the barrier. I took in a lungful of air, finally able to breathe freely. Without thinking, I tried to drop both Aida and Bijarki’s hands.
“Not yet,” Bijarki reminded me.
Hastily I tightened my grip, recalling the last step of travel required us to remain linked to one another. I looked around me, barely able to make out a single feature of the desert in the gloom of dusk, and in the very next moment I felt a sickening jolt in my stomach, as if my internal organs were being pulled down inside of me. I closed my eyes, grimacing at the unpleasant sensation. When I opened them again, we were standing back in the laboratory room of the plantation house. For once, I was pleased to be there.
Bijarki instantly released my hand, turning to Draven. He helped the Druid down onto the stone floor, yanking an old rag from one of the tables to place beneath his head
.
“What can we do?” Serena asked Draven, looking around in vain as if she might recognize some of the strange liquids and herbs.
“I need Agrimonia,” Draven replied, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Pelargonium, Vinca minor, Thuja oil.”
Bijarki and Serena looked at one another with panicked confusion, but as he listed the herbs I realized I recognized a few of the names. Some were earthly ingredients.
“Okay,” I said, rushing over to the shelves where rows and rows of glass jars contained a myriad of different herbs and leaves. “I think I know this!”
I searched the shelf. I found the Agrimonia easily—Zerus had made me study it, and we had a small bush of it in my garden by the Sanctuary. I took the jar and emptied the contents on the table top. I rushed back to the shelves, looking for Vinca minor—another of the herbs that I recognized. I found it, and emptied the jar next to Agrimonia.
“Draven,” I said crouching down next to him, “can you describe Pelargonium to me? I don’t know it!”
“Geranium,” he replied with a faint smile.
Stupid me. Of course I knew it—he had used the Latin name, that was all. I found the jar quickly, and then asked about the Thuja oil.
“Bottom shelf,” Draven rasped. “Yellow oil. Mix it all together, and heat it. Becomes a paste. Put…put it on the wounds.”
His voice was growing fainter. I checked the bottom shelf, panic making it difficult for me to focus. There seemed to be more than one yellow jar on the shelf. Typically, like the rest of the ingredients, nothing was labeled. I picked up the three yellowish jars of liquid. I moved them about. Only one of them had the consistency of oil—the rest were like water. I grabbed the jar and took it back to the table.
“What can I do to help?” Bijarki asked me, appearing at my side.
“I need something to boil this in,” I replied. Everyone jumped to action. A few moments later, various pots and iron cauldrons were placed in front of me. I took the sturdiest-looking and moved it over to one of the makeshift stoves that were built into the table. It had a container of oil at the base, and a thick, fabric wick. A very basic ring of iron was arranged over it, creating the stove surface. I placed the cauldron on top and started to add the herbs, crushing them down with a pestle. Next I added the oil and lit the wick.
“Can I help?” Field asked.
I shook my head, concentrating on the liquid. I wanted to make sure I took the heat away at exactly the right moment. I knew from experience that if I left it too long the paste would return to liquid, and I’d have to start all over again.
When it was at the right consistency, I cut the heat and removed the cauldron from the stove using a rag to protect my hands. I carried it over to the Druid.
“How do we get it on the wounds?” I asked. Draven didn’t reply.
“Draven?” Serena called his name sharply, applying pressure to his arm. He groaned, looking as if he was about to pass out again.
She looked at me worriedly, and then scooped out the paste with her fingers.
“Serena!” I gasped, worried it might be hot.
“It’s okay,” she replied. Very carefully, she started to apply the paste to the runes.
“Let me do that,” I said gently, scooping out the paste. “You do his eyes.”
She nodded, tentatively removing the bandage from around his head. I heard her inhale sharply as she looked at the bloodied eye-sockets of the Druid.
“Bijarki,” I added, “get something to clean them with first.”
He nodded, moving off to one of the tables. I tried not to look at Draven’s face. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t had that stupid vision, none of this would have happened, and if Serena and I hadn’t insisted that we should visit the Daughters, Draven would still have his sight.
A second later, Bijarki was back. With a surprising amount of tenderness and care, he wiped away the blood around Draven’s eyes using a damp cloth that smelt strongly of alcohol. Before the bleeding could begin again, Serena applied the paste—her focus and professional manner were impressive. I didn’t consider myself particularly squeamish, but I thought I might have found it difficult if our roles had been swapped.
Once I’d finished on the runes, Draven’s breathing started to sound more robust.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“I’ll get some water,” I muttered to Serena, noticing his dry lips. I ran the faucet from a work sink in the corner of the room and found a glass.
“What about your eyesight?” Serena asked.
“Just have to wait,” Draven breathed.
I hurried over with the water. Serena took the glass from me, and lifted his head so that he could drink. He took two small sips and nodded, waving the water away.
“I’m fine now,” he muttered. “I just need to lie down.”
“I’ll take you to your room,” Serena replied. She looked up at Bijarki, indicating that he should help the Druid stand. Together they lifted him up. Once again, Draven made little to no indication as to whether or not he was in pain—only a sharp intake of breath and a short hiss of discomfort was uttered as he stood.
“I’ve got this,” Serena told Bijarki.
He nodded, letting her take the weight of Draven’s body as the two of them walked toward the main section of the basement and up the stairs.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jovi asked as Serena staggered past him.
“I’m fine, honestly,” Serena replied.
She was determined to help. I wondered how much of that was guilt—we had both been urging Draven to see the Daughters, and Serena wouldn’t be taking the consequences lightly. But there was something else too. Serena and Draven had established a bond—whether it was only friendship or something else, I didn’t know. What I did know was that whether she was fascinated by him or furious with him, Draven always managed to elicit a reaction from her, effortlessly consuming her focus. I didn’t yet know if that was a good or bad thing.
When Serena and Draven left, the others started to follow them, all of us eager to get out of the basement.
“Are you coming?” Aida asked.
“I just need to clear this stuff,” I replied, re-stocking the herbs I hadn’t used.
“I’ll help,” she replied. I looked up at my friend’s pale and pinched face. The journey had been particularly hard on her, on both the way in and out.
“No, get some rest,” I replied, meaning it. Aida looked like she needed to sleep for a week. I felt the same, but my mind was too hyper to rest. It was buzzing from the interaction with the Daughters, and the whispers of the sandstorm.
“Thanks.” She nodded, turning to leave. Her shoulders were slumped, her back stooped in a slouch—something I hadn’t seen her do since we were in our early teens. Whatever the shape-shifters had told Aida, it wasn’t good.
I continued to preoccupy myself by putting the herbs back in order, tempted to start labeling the ones I recognized on the shelf, but holding myself back, doubting that Draven would appreciate my interference.
“He should clean up in here more.”
I jumped at the sound of Bijarki’s voice. I hadn’t realized that I still had company.
“He should,” I agreed, mumbling my words. I hadn’t wanted to be left alone with Bijarki, especially not after the taunting of the shape-shifters, the vision I’d had of us in the valley, and on top of that, yesterday, I’d had a very strange, very disturbing dream about him. As far as Bijarki was concerned, I wanted him to stay as far away from me as possible.
“Can I do anything to help?” he offered. I heard him move toward me, crossing the room with even steps that echoed in the now empty laboratory.
“No,” I managed, shoving the last of the dried herbs in a jar.
“You look beautiful when you’re nervous. Your heart rate increases dramatically, and you flush the palest pink on your cheeks.” His voice was smooth and soft, almost becoming a caress as the words dripped from his mouth.<
br />
“What?” I replied, doing my best to sound indignant.
“It’s just an observation,” he replied gently. He was moving closer. I could feel his body behind me, moving into my personal space—not touching me, but so determinedly there that I couldn’t ignore it.
“Well, don’t,” I replied, anxiety coursing through me. “I don’t want your observations. I want you to leave me alone. Stop staring at me, looking at me like you know me. You don’t.”
I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten the courage to say all that to his face, but when I’d finished my small Vita-sized tirade, I was glad. I had stuck up for myself—put up boundaries.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. The voice was less self-assuredly smooth this time.
“It’s fine,” I replied curtly. “Just don’t do it anymore. It makes me uncomfortable.”
He vanished from my personal space, moving back across the room. With some distance between us, I felt free to glance over at him. He looked despondent and conflicted, his eyes glued to the floor. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.
“It just…” He hesitated, “It comes naturally with you—it’s incredibly hard to be any other way. But I apologize… I will stay away.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by “it”, but I hoped this would be the end of whatever he had going on—that my dreams and visions would be incubus-free going forward. As he left the room, I turned back to the mess on the table… and wondered why I suddenly felt despondent.
Serena
I helped Draven back to his room. I staggered under his weight, half-wishing I’d accepted Jovi’s offer of help, but I felt like I should take the weight of this responsibility—literally. With every hitched breath Draven took, my feelings of guilt worsened. I stayed silent though, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other like I’d done in the sandstorm, putting all my energy into getting him to his bedroom before I collapsed under his weight.
A Shade of Vampire 43: A House of Mysteries Page 16
