“Sorry, Marcus, but do you actually have that authority?” Cash said and Kit jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “I do.”
The warrior, and the lover. Hows that for duality.
“Alright then,” Kit said, clapping his hands together. “It’s up to Nyminia then about whether she stays or goes.”
“I think I’ll be safest here,” I replied. “But what about Rowan? She’ll worry if I don’t come home.”
“We’ll let her know you won’t be around this evening.” Kit smiled.
“She’s going to have a lot of questions, do you want us to explain?” Cash asked.
“No, I think it’s best if I tell her myself tomorrow.” If Marcus knows, Ro should too.
“Thank the gods.” Cash let out a breath. “Better you explain than us.”
“Yeah, but now she’s going to pester us with questions all night.” Kit laughed.
The twins gave each other a playful shove, and tripped out the door into the orange glow of the globes.
As they disappeared down the path, I turned to Marcus. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“Well, thank you all the same.”
Marcus smiled, I grinned. We’re like a couple of silly teenagers, except I’m a twenty-one-year-old sacrifice, and he’s a two-thousand-year-old vampire.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“I am a bit.” The words were muffled by my yawn.
Marcus chuckled. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep.”
Following him, I let my fingertips drag over the exposed cedar logs which made up the walls of his sanctuary. “This place is gorgeous, did you build it?”
“No.” He smiled. “Professor Starling built it for me in his youth. He was excellent with his hands back in the day, it’s why I prefer not to decorate.” Marcus shrugged. “I prefer to look at his craftsmanship.”
I noticed there was no kitchen, save for a silver single door refrigerator in the corner. I’m pretty sure I know what’s in there. Only days ago that thought would send me running.
Marcus pushed open a rough wooden door, and led me inside. The room was plain, like the rest of the house, with the exception of a large mural which covered the entire ceiling. It’s colors ranged from brilliant reds to muddled violet and everything in between. The masterpiece had been painted directly onto the wood of the ceiling, giving it an uneven tactile texture. Even I could tell it had been expertly painted, but it wasn’t the skill of the artist which transfixed me.
Painted dragons flew across the sky, fire billowing from their mouths, scorching the ground. A forest of roses blossomed from where the fire struck, intertwining with the rocks of a great castle afloat on the sea. As my gaze moved along the ocean became violent and dark. Rippling clouds invaded the artwork, blocking out the blue sky. At the far end of the darkness stood multitudes of cloaked figures, shoulder to shoulder, identical in every way.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, held captive by the fantastical world above me. “Did you paint it?”
Marcus stepped up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “A long time ago. I’m glad you like it.”
I turned to face him, taking his hands into mine. “How could I not? It’s amazing.”
Marcus smiled somewhat sadly. In the low yellow light coming from the Edison bulbs, I saw on his face something was amiss. This painting must really mean something, but not necessarily a good something.
“You don’t mind sleeping here?” he said, gesturing to the bed. It was blanketed in a crisp white quilt, and was supported by an antique brass frame.
“Where will you sleep?”
“You know that saying, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’?” He chuckled. “Turns out even then you don’t sleep.”
“What, you mean you never feel tired?”
“When I feel tired, it’s because I’m hungry, and sleep doesn’t cure that.” He sighed, and glanced towards the bed. “In the early years we sleep, but over time the need dissolves. I think the last time I truly slept, I was one hundred years old.”
To not rest or dream… I don’t think I could do that.
Bending his neck, Marcus planted a soft kiss on my forehead. “You should get some sleep, I fear tomorrow will be a difficult day.”
Yes, tomorrow I start classes, and possibly have my soul removed from my body. Hip hip hooray!
Marcus relinquished his hold on my hands, and turned to go.
“Wait!” I called after him.
“Yes?”
“Would you stay with me a while?” I shrugged. “I’d like to talk for a bit before I go to sleep.” I want to stay near you.
“Of course.” He smiled, and together we sat cross legged on the quilt, settling into the scent of clean linen.
I glanced up at the painting one more time, allowing the colors to wash over me. “What was it like, back then?”
“You mean in the time of dragons?”
I nodded.
“Life was completely different. Magic was a raw wild thing with no master. As magic-kinds, we had only just begun to harness our internal elements. The dragons however–”
“Were fire magic made flesh?” I asked.
“Yes. They were at one with the elemental flow and understood the nuances in ways we could not. It’s what made them so powerful. We owe a great deal of our progression as mages to what the dragons taught us, all those years ago.”
“They taught magic-kinds?”
“Of course, they were our rulers, and we were their subjects. They cared for our wellbeing, up to a certain point, and nurtured the growth of elemental magic throughout the world.”
Huh, that sounds a whole lot different from the picture I was painted. “So they were kind rulers?”
Marcus chuckled. “The concept of kindness was very different then. Infants with deformities were smothered instead of condemned to live a tortured life. We aided the sick and dying by ending their suffering.”
Oh my.
“The dragons were the right rulers for the era. Harsh, but fair. Never murderous or erratic. They were everything we needed to survive back then.”
“But not now?”
Marcus reached out and stroked my face, his ring finger tracing the outline of my jaw. “Especially not now.”
I smiled, enjoying the moment.
“Do you have any idea at all who could be after you?” Marcus asked, and the moment was over.
I have to tell him. “Until recently, I was living a few states away. Life’s never been easy, but for me, it was at a real low point. The closest thing I had to a friend was this guy I met online.”
Marcus raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, yeah I know, stranger danger. It was just nice to have someone to talk to.” I sighed. “Anyway, a month or so passed, and I guess I started to feel close to this person. There was just something about him that made us feel linked. I don’t know if it was because he felt lonely too, but we had a connection.” Or at least I thought we did.
“What happened?” Marcus’s prompt brought me out of my thoughts.
“He messaged me one day, said he found a flat in Vernon Village that we could afford between us. In his email, he said he was traveling there and that I should meet him. The way he described the area, the photos of the flat, it all sounded amazing.” He said we could be flatmates... and maybe more. “I scraped together what savings I had, and spent them on getting myself plus a few belongings to Vernon.” It’s so embarrassing, thinking about it now. I can’t believe how naive I was. Or still am maybe. “When I got there, he said he was still a few days away from arriving, so I told him I’d try and find somewhere to crash for a few days.” I took a deep breath.
“All those fires.” Marcus whispered.
“The day the women’s shelter burnt was the day I received my last email from him. He was so excited to see me, said he couldn’t
wait. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What was his name?”
“Caleb,” I answered, shivering, “I can’t believe how stup–”
“Don’t say that.”
“Sorry?” I asked.
“Don’t say that you were stupid, you weren’t. It’s an admirable thing to take a chance, to open yourself to the possibility of love.”
I tried to leave that part out, I feel ashamed enough as it is. Am I that obvious?
“It’s even more admirable to open yourself again, after being hurt.” Marcus looked into my eyes. There’s a real connection here, with him. At least, I hope and pray it’s real.
Rolling on my back, I breathed a heavy sigh. “Can we forget about everything, just for tonight?” I whispered in his ear. No vampires, dragons, or ancient history, just me and you.
Marcus moved as if to stand, but I caught the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back. He smiled and laid down beside me, gathering my body into his arms.
I closed my eyes. He smells like cinnamon and cloves.
A smile grew on my face as I drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 17
SEER OF THE STORM
Fire surged around me, a shroud of blinding-white death. In the middle of the blistering wave, two violet eyes gleamed, a gaze I could feel right in the center of my soul. Unable to move or look away, I was a prisoner of the flames. A twisting magnetic energy connected with the unearthly sight of the beast in front of me. Something in those eyes.
Tell me what you want! I tried to call out, but my words were as much a hostage as my limbs. Am I even breathing?
Reaching for my fire, that’s when I felt it. The unnatural gaze, the tendrils of flame around me, everything seemed to scream. It wasn’t a sound, it was a feeling, a visual, the world pulsated around me like a living creature taking its last breath.
“Nyminia!”
My eyes flashed open, fixed on the rendition of the white dragon adorning the ceiling above me. It’s okay, I’m okay.
“Are you alright?” Marcus’s whisper was a tender tug, bringing me back to reality.
“I am now,” I said, shivering as I sat up.
“That was quite the nightmare.” His face was contorted into a worried frown.
“It really was. I’m sorry if I shouted out or something.”
“Don’t worry about it. Did you want to talk about it?” he asked, placing his fingertips on my shoulder.
“It was like I was trapped with a dragon in a cage made of fire. I couldn’t move or speak.” I shuddered.
“Could you see the dragon?”
My gaze flicked up to Marcus’s. “All I could see were these violet eyes, I just assumed the dragon part.”
“The royal clan all had the most brilliantly colored eyes, including violet,” Marcus answered, his voice far away.
“My eyes, everything about me, it all has to do with being the True Sacrifice, doesn’t it?” I sighed.
Marcus smiled sadly. “Do you feel like some fresh air?” he asked.
I nodded and he took my hand, leading me out of the bedroom and to the front door. Swinging it open, I gasped. What I thought was a simple yard was actually the most beautiful rose garden I had ever seen. Hundreds of bushes surrounded the cabin, packing the large clearing with flowers. The morning dew sparkled in the sunlight, adorning the many colored petals in diamond lace. There were pinks, yellows, reds, oranges, blacks, and even shades of blue, all twisting and winding together in a fragrant tapestry of color.
“Wow.” Is that all I can say? I need to start reading poetry.
Marcus chuckled. “When I’m not working at the library, I’m working here. Although I don’t think the word ‘work’ is quite applicable for either of those tasks. It’s more of a joy.”
“They’re all so beautiful.” I squeezed his hand.
“There’s one in particular I’d like to show you.” Marcus gently tugged at my grip and we walked out amongst the thorny beauties. After weaving our way through rows of green leaves and soft petals, we arrived at a small circular clearing in the garden.
I inhaled deeply as I saw the bloom growing in the center, it was a rose whose petals seemed to radiate their own light, a shimmering glow which was an unmistakable shade of violet. Just like my eyes. The single rose grew amongst a thicket of pale green leaves and milk white thorns, lending an even more unearthly feel to the unusual beauty.
“It’s called ‘Heart of Nyminia’,” Marcus spoke. “I made it myself, and named it after the dragon.”
Dragon?
“Did Midwood tell you about your namesake?” he asked.
“Only that my name was used long ago, but not anymore.”
Marcus’s face darkened. It seems he doesn’t appreciate Midwood’s secrets either.
“She should have. Nyminia was the dragon who knit the spell and created your bloodline.”
A wave of nausea rippled through me.
“Are you okay?” Marcus placed his hand on my back, steadying me.
“Midwood said that even my appearance was proof of what I am.”
Marcus was silent for a moment before speaking. “The Nyminia of long ago was frightening to behold. Her violet eyes smoldered and her sleek white scales gave her massive frame the look of a specter. She was the eldest of the royal children, and the most feared.” He sighed, tilting my face up towards his. “You bare her mark across you, however your heart is gentle and human. The ancient Nyminia may have had influence over your looks, although I doubt even she would have the power to mold your soul.”
A baritone voice reverberated through the air around us. “And today is the day we shall discuss souls isn’t it, Marcus?”
I clamped my hands over my ears in response. What the heck?
Expression and color drained from Marcus’s face. “I didn’t expect–”
“Expect what?” I asked as his sentence trailed off.
Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short.
“Disable your orbs, Marcus, you know I mean you no harm.”
The sound waves rattled my ribs.
“Let him in,” Marcus murmured to the glowing sphere which had manifested in front of us.
Why am I so cold? A sudden chill laced the air, and I glanced at Marcus as I rubbed my hands together.
His gaze was fixated ahead, on a break in the bushes. His mouth forced into a thin tight line, hands clenched.
Who is this person to Marcus?
A dark, cloaked figure emerged from the forest of thorns. He stood well over six foot tall with dark umber skin, a color which stood in stark contrast to the red roses framing him. His dark cloak swished around his ankles, as he moved towards us.
Wait, is he blind? His eyes are completely white!
“Atramen–” Marcus began.
“Just a moment Marcus, I wish to meet the girl. It’s been centuries since I last saw you, our reunion can wait a few minutes more.”
Atramen turned to me and bowed deeply. The way he moves, it reminds me of a jungle cat. As he rose, he took my hand lightly in his, holding it for just a moment. His hand felt cold, but there was something else I felt as well. Something–
“Nyminia, I am Atramen. Seer of the storm, and member of the vampiric council.”
“Seer of the storm?” I asked. In the corner of my eye, I noted Marcus’s body language become even more rigid.
“Yes, my lady, I see the storm of time. Glimpses of the futures, pieces of the past, and–” his voice dropped to barely a whisper “–that which is hidden.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Atramen.” Marcus’s voice was taut, like a rope about to snap.
“Marcus, I followed you willingly on the battlefield, but now–” Atraman gestured all around “–I follow my sight, and it has led me here.”
“A member of the council shouldn’t risk being out in the open like this, you could–”
“I could what, Marcus? Learn her secret? Don’t pretend you are worried for
me.”
Marcus stepped to my side, I could almost feel his energy prickling. Atramen knows about me.
“Fear not child.” Atramen faced me. “It is my role in this to know things, not share them.”
Great, but for some odd reason that doesn’t make me feel better, creepy vampire guy.
“Marcus knows this.” Atramen turned his clouded gaze to my companion, together they strung out the silence.
Although something tells me the silence holds words for them, something I can’t read.
“She’s changed you.” Atramen’s words snuck into the air. “Her life force mingles with your own now. Yet you do not yet know to what extent.”
Marcus frowned.
I crossed my arms. I don’t trust this guy, how can I when he seems to know everything?
Atramen flicked his hand as if waving away a cloud of smoke away from his face.
“Now, Nyminia must come with me and accept Madame Bonheur’s challenge.”
I laughed out loud. “You’re kidding me right? I’m not going anywhere.”
“You must, if you do not formally accept the challenge, your claim will be forfeit.” Atramen’s voice was toneless, just stating facts.
Man, I can already tell I’m not a fan of ancient vampire rituals.
“I’m coming,” Marcus spoke.
“As the bond subject in dispute, you may not.” Atraman tilted his head. “You know this Marcus. No harm will come to her.” He extended his hand to me.
Marcus swallowed. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, turning to me.
“I know.” I took Atraman’s hand, but wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
I fell through a sea of darkness, broken only by the tiniest pinpricks of light. As suddenly as it began, the plunge was over. I stood nauseous and reeling with two feet on solid ground.
Looking around, my insides froze. Where am I? Some sort of chapel?
Walls of dark blue stone stretched up towards vaulted ceilings, unbroken by glass or any form of light. Carved benches of white wood made rows enough to seat roughly sixty people, and candles illuminated the depictions of what appeared to be the five elemental deities. I sneezed as I took a breath of the stale air. From the look of the dust and cobwebs, this place probably hasn’t been used in years.
Of Flesh and Fire - Book I: Everything Will Burn Page 14
