Clearly, a visit to the Daughters wouldn’t be repeated any time soon, and I hoped for all our sakes that they stayed as far away from us as possible. I didn’t know why the Oracle had sent us to them. We had thought that she was a ‘fairy godmother’… what a joke. I didn’t know if her instructions to Vita had been malevolent, but so far her ‘gifts’ and advice had landed us in deeper and deeper trouble. Anything else she passed along to us from now on would be taken with a grain of salt. I just wasn’t sure we could continue to trust her. She was Azazel’s creature now. Draven had said that visions could be interfered with…we had to consider the possibility that what the Oracle had said to us so far had been distorted by him. It was a sobering thought.
We reached the door, and I pushed it open. I glanced at Draven, his chiseled jaw clenched with the effort of not verbally expressing his pain. I laid him on the bed as gently as I could, and he muttered his thanks.
“Don’t thank me,” I replied. “You knew it was dangerous and I didn’t listen.”
He appeared too distracted by the pain to respond—just sank his head against his pillow with a grunt.
The fire was roaring in his bedroom—somehow it had managed to stay burning since we’d left—and I wished it would burn itself out. The heat in the room was stifling. I looked around for a jug of water, and found one—grossly lukewarm, but it would have to do. I poured the water in a cup next to it, and carried it over to him.
“Here,” I said, taking his hand and placing the cup in it. “Drink.”
He took a few sips, and then waved the cup away. I placed it down by the edge of the bed, and arranged the cushions under his head.
“Stop fussing,” he growled.
I stopped.
“Is there anything you need?” I asked.
“No.”
I sat myself down at the edge of the bed, planning to stay till he fell asleep.
“Let me just take off your boots,” I added. “Get you more comfortable.”
“I can do it,” he breathed. He tried to move himself into a sitting position, but winced, clutching his head as he did so.
“Let me,” I insisted, frustrated that he was such a terrible patient. He would do himself more damage if he didn’t relax. I removed his shoes, dropping them onto the floor.
“Can I syphon more of your pain?” I asked.
“I’m fine. My head hurts, that’s all.”
“Yeah, because you’ve had your eyeballs removed,” I retorted. “Just let me help, okay?”
“If you’re going to stay here just sit quietly.”
I sighed, relenting. “Fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to sit in silence. It wasn’t exactly a skill of mine. He seemed to relax at my acceptance, the tension draining from his body as he sank into the mattress.
His chest was bare, Bijarki having removed his shirt once the runes were re-drawn. Even bloodied and scarred the way he was, and covered with the healing paste, there was an undeniable beauty to his body. The ripples of muscle across his chest and torso gently moved as he drew ragged breaths, but where his skin was untouched, it appeared tanned and smooth. I shook my head, looking away.
What are you doing?
I moved to sit in the armchair by the bed, easing myself off the mattress carefully so as to not disturb him. From this angle, I could see his profile more clearly—his face had lost the tense contortions of his pain, and his eye sockets had stopped bleeding. I wondered how long it would be before the Daughters gave him his sight back. Hopefully not too long. We needed him now, more than ever.
“Serena,” he murmured, breaking the silence.
“Yes?”
“It’s now vital that you don’t leave the confines of the house and garden. You need to stay extra vigilant—promise me that. I can’t protect you like this.”
“I promise,” I replied, honestly. “I’m capable of looking after myself, and I have the others too. We won’t let anything happen—we’ll stay safe.”
“I don’t trust you, or anyone else, to protect yourself,” he whispered, and I wondered if he’d become delirious. His voice did have a spacey dream-like quality that made me think it was likely. Perhaps it was the paste we’d applied to his skin taking effect—doing more than just stemming the bleeding.
“You need to start,” I responded. “I’m not fragile—what happened with the shape-shifters on my first night won’t happen again. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Draven shook his head. He emitted a low, rasping laughter.
“You think you can depend entirely on yourself,” he replied. “You’re delusional. You need me. You’re just too stubborn to see it.”
I smiled in amusement. Draven’s words were beginning to slur—he was definitely delusional. A small flicker of temptation unfurled in my mind. He was weak right now. I could finally mind-meld with him without him noticing, or being able to do much about it. But it was just a thought. I knew I wouldn’t act on it. I couldn’t abuse his trust that way. After all he’d done for us, I needed to start considering him as an ally, if not a friend. My rule with syphoning was that I only did it with explicit permission from those I knew and trusted. Draven would now be counted as someone I trusted—even if I still knew very little about him. I decided I would leave him to get some sleep—if his filter was currently off, then it was probably better that I wasn’t around.
I stood up, moving toward the door.
“Wait,” he said hoarsely.
I turned abruptly, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?”
“Stay,” he whispered.
A span of silence fell between us. “Uh, okay,” I replied, even as I frowned at his request. His delirium was certainly causing him to act out of character. Only recently he’d snapped at me for watching him while he slept.
I quietly resumed my position in the armchair, and watched as he began to doze off. My eyes wandered along the contours of his tall body, then rested on his exhausted, handsome face.
I tried not to think about what he’d said regarding how I ‘needed’ him… I wasn’t sure in what context that comment was meant—was it about protection, or something else?
As his breathing became deeper, steadier, I must have briefly given in to sleep too, because I woke to the sound of him groaning—trying to move the bandage that had been reapplied to his eyes as he slept. I quickly moved to the bed.
“Draven, it’s okay,” I breathed, trying to soothe him as I clutched his hands and set them down by his sides. It was difficult to do, he had much more strength than me, but in his sleeping state it was manageable, and eventually his groans gave way to regular breathing again.
Trying not to wake him, I placed my hands on his bare chest, reaching out with my mind to syphon away more of his pain. I again felt the urge to mind-meld with him, to see into his dreams, but I held back. Instead, I located the violent shards of red that seemed to be piercing into his temples, and gently took them on as my own pain. My body trembled with the effort—it was too soon since I’d done this last—but I persevered. I deserved to take some of the burden.
He didn’t wake, and after a few moments, I removed my hands. I bent double over the mattress, my head pounding and my eyes wet with unshed tears caused by the smarting of pain.
It seemed like it was getting more painful each time. But watching Draven suffer alone was worse. Once again, I felt the magnitude of what he had done for us, all he had sacrificed, and not just for us—but for the good of his homeland and the creatures in it that he was so cut off from. I couldn’t help but admire him for putting himself in danger like that. He had comfort and safety here, and while it might not have been perfect, I was pretty sure that most creatures in his position would just accept their fate—stay secluded here, and let the rest of Eritopia fall to the reign of Azazel.
When my temples had stopped pounding, I looked over at Draven. His face, glistening with tiny beads of perspiration, was lit by the fire that still burned in the hearth.
I let out a breath. Ther
e was so much I still didn’t know about the Druid and the rest of his kind—what had happened to Elissa for her to have left this place, and what Draven was doing in keeping a mission that was looking increasingly hopeless going.
Like the mysterious new world that surrounded us, clearly there was more to this young man and his life story than he’d let on… A lot more.
My core instincts told me that if there was a key to our escape, Draven was it, but only if I unraveled him. He needed to start trusting me, truly—but for that to happen, I had to pull down some of my own barriers and attempt to get closer to him…
Draven stirred, his sheets slipping down his torso to an uncomfortably low area of his waist. I swallowed.
I just had to be careful not to entangle myself in the process.
Phoenix
The moment we left the basement and entered the living room, I took Field, Jovi and Aida aside.
“I need to show you something,” I muttered.
“Can’t it wait?” Aida pleaded, her face drawn and pale.
“It can’t, sorry,” I replied curtly, but I meant it. I knew she needed to rest, but they also needed to know about the tree and the Daughter lying beneath it. Not just because I needed to unburden myself, but also because they needed to know—the information was obviously important, and I didn’t trust myself to wait any longer. If I waited till tomorrow, I could see myself changing my mind, returning to the tree on my own and falling back under the spell of her beauty.
They dutifully followed me outside, and I took them round the side of the house to the entrance garden. The night was still and quiet, the moon so large in the sky that it gave us enough light to see by without the use of a lantern. In the darkness, the blossoms of the magnolia tree glistened like silver, and the moon’s rays seemed to fall directly on the boughs like a spotlight.
“This is the tree I saw in the vision,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could change my mind. “Beneath it lies the shell I saw as well, and inside that there’s a girl—the last Daughter of Eritopia. She’s just as beautiful as the others… more so. She’s fast asleep—or in some kind of magic coma, I don’t know.”
All three of them stared down at the soil in silence. It occurred to me that they might not believe me. It wasn’t like they could see what I saw.
“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Field asked.
I looked guiltily in his direction.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I came here…She was so beautiful—so fragile, I suppose…She drew me in, and I just couldn’t bear to tell anyone about it. I wanted to, but… there was something stopping me. I’m sorry, Field. I know you asked, and I lied. Forgive me.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice without reproach. “I get it. The Daughters today—they were…Well.” He cleared his throat. “Just be careful. That kind of beauty, it can be deadly.”
“I know,” I replied.
“Do you think we should dig her up?” Jovi asked, placing his hands down on the soil, testing its firmness.
“I don’t think so,” Field replied quickly. “We should wait to see what Draven thinks. Digging her up could be dangerous—we could harm her, or ourselves. I’m not particularly keen to incur the wrath of the Daughters again.”
“I agree,” Aida replied. “She’s probably meant to be left alone—maybe that’s one reason Draven was cagey about revealing her exact location to us… assuming he knew himself at the time.”
They were both right. Whatever madness had overtaken me last night when I’d tried to claw at the soil seemed to have dissipated. Perhaps now that I wasn’t alone, or was no longer keeping her presence a secret, whatever hold the Daughter had over me was gone. I looked down at the earth, moving past the soil using True Sight, following the roots as they entwined around the luminescent shell, and then to the sleeping form of the Daughter. She was in the exact same position in which I’d found her, which suggested to me that the sleep wasn’t natural. It must be some kind of spell or magical state that held her like that.
“Is she okay?” Field asked, realizing what I was doing.
I nodded. “The same as yesterday.”
“So, she’s just sleeping, or whatever, and fully grown?” Aida asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, tearing my vision away from her and refocusing on my friends.
“Basically like Sleeping Beauty?” she smirked.
“A bit like that, yeah,” I replied, uncomfortable with the comparison. I suddenly felt annoyed with Aida. Why was she belittling the Daughter? I doubted very much it was her fault that she was in that state—it was most likely due to the cruelty of the other Daughters.
“And when she wakes, Eritopia will be at peace?” Aida pressed.
“They said she would assist in saving Eritopia,” Jovi mused. “What do you think’s so special about her? I mean, if she’s the last remaining hope of Eritopia, she’s got to be able to do something that the other Daughters can’t.”
“Or won’t,” Field added.
“I’m going to put money on one of you needing to wake her up with a kiss to break the spell,” Aida added, arching her eyebrow in my direction.
“Seriously?” I retorted. “Can you not be serious for a second, Aida? This isn’t a joke! God knows how long that poor girl’s been down there. We know what cruelty the Daughters are capable of—this could have all happened against her will.”
Aida frowned at me, and fell silent.
I drew in a breath, instantly regretting chastising her. Why had I snapped at her? I didn’t normally get wound up like this. I wondered if it was the Daughter and her effect on me, or just that I was exhausted.
“Let’s go and eat,” Jovi suggested, easing the tension. “I think we’re getting a bit grumpy. The food should still be there.”
“Should be,” I muttered, turning to face the house. I wasn’t actually sure how all that worked, only that it appeared at the same time every day, and presumably vanished at some point as well. I hoped we hadn’t missed it. At the mention of food my stomach had started to rumble. It had been a long time since we’d eaten, and I guessed that most of us were suffering from some form of dehydration—just water wasn’t enough to replenish the body in that kind of punishing heat.
We made our way toward the back garden. I was last to leave, glancing one last time in the direction of the magnolia tree, knowing I wouldn’t be back to visit her tonight. That kind of thing would have to stop—it wasn’t safe, because I was still unsure whether or not I could be trusted to be there alone. It might have lessened now that it was out in the open, but the tree still drew me to it.
As I crossed the overgrown lawn, I wondered again about what the last Daughter was capable of. Was she a warrior? The only one with the skill to vanquish Azazel? Or was it all part of some prophecy we knew nothing about, that her waking was a sign of Azazel’s rule coming to its end?
Why had the other Daughters looked at me with such interest when we went to visit them?
We needed the Druid to tell us about the last Daughter—the full, uncensored truth this time. We couldn’t afford to remain in the dark on Eritopia’s matters, not when we were the ones seeing visions and being called to strange trees and discovering women in the earth. We needed to know what was going on, and how much hope of getting home we actually had.
Aida
After complaining that I was tired during dinner, once I got into bed, sleep completely evaded me. Vita dropped off straight away, and Serena must have been sleeping in the armchair downstairs. We’d asked her if she wanted dinner, but she wasn’t hungry and so we’d left her to her night-time vigil over Draven.
I lay back on my pillow, looking up at the ceiling. Vita had left the lamp on, and so I could see the moldy and peeling paintwork. I was sick of this place. The heat, the humidity, the inability to roam anywhere we wanted to, having to stick within the confines of the garden. Tomorrow I would explore the front garden—at least it would be something new, and I doubted,
with the way Draven was, that we’d have Oracle training. I felt bad for the Druid. The Daughters were cruel and vicious. I’d never seen a creature be so calmly methodical in their destruction. To me, their attitude was scarier than the act itself.
I tried not to think about the voices of the shape-shifters that had called to me in the mists—I even hated that they were called that. It was another name for werewolves, but I couldn’t imagine two species less alike.
They had known I had werewolf blood in me. They had called me weak, because I couldn’t change form. Their taunts had gone on and on, always the same, telling me to shift, telling me I was a sub-species because I couldn’t do what was in my nature. That had been bearable. It was when they’d called me to join them that I’d felt like I was going mad. They promised that if I followed them, I could take on my true form—become what I was meant to be, had my blood not been diluted.
I had wanted to follow them so badly. Even if rationally I had known that it was just a ploy, that I would become nothing but dinner, their cries had been so convincing. On the way back through the storm, I had felt something. A jolt in my stomach, like something was moving inside me, something primal and instinctual that wanted out.
Enough.
I sat up in bed. I wasn’t going to lie here all night dwelling on falsehoods. I would go and see if Serena or Draven needed anything, try to be helpful and get out of my own head.
I got off the bed, careful not to wake Vita. I took the lamp with me, hoping she wouldn’t mind. It would only be a problem if she woke up in the night, but she seemed to be in a deep sleep. Creeping out of the room, I jumped as a floorboard creaked underfoot. I paused, making sure it hadn’t woken my friend, and then continued. I averted my eyes from the ceiling or the shelves as I hurried down the hallway—this was the spookiest part of the house, and I could practically feel the beady eyes of the preserved animals following me.
Hurrying down the stairs, I held the lamp up high, slightly wary of the shadows and groans of the house. As I reached the main entrance, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I spun around, my heart feeling like it had jumped into my mouth.
A Shade of Vampire 43: A House of Mysteries Page 17
