Of Flesh and Fire - Book I: Everything Will Burn

by Tuesday Cross

  “Yes, I do. It’s a fate-pairing actually.” Maybe that will freak him out enough to leave.

  “With who?” His pinched face turned an unflattering shade of purple.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business!”

  Grinding on his heel, Farsky whirled and strode out into the hall. He pulled the door shut behind him with such a force, it rattled the tiny dinosaur figurines on Rowan’s desk.

  Thank god that worked, although something tells me that’s not the last conversation I’m going to have with that guy.

  A loud thump sounded from behind me as the front paws of Rowan’s giant red wolf hit the ground. Growling, she sniffed the air before whining at the door.

  Is it appropriate to pet my friend? Or is that weird.

  “It’s all good Ro, he’s gone now.”

  Huffing, and then shaking her large body from side to side, the wolf in front of me shortly shifted into a very nude Rowan.

  “Sorry!” she said, swiping a bathrobe from the edge of her bed and swinging it over her shoulders. “If I had known I was shifting today, I would have worn fabric that can shift with me.” Rowan cast a sad look to the shredded pile of clothes. “Anyway, what just happened?”

  “Farsky cast some sort of spell that froze you, and disabled my magic. He didn’t want you to hear this warning he had for me.”

  “What was it?”

  “You have to promise you won’t do anything rash.” I don’t want Rowan getting hurt on my behalf.

  “Cross my heart,” Rowan replied.

  “He said I couldn’t trust Midwood, that if things got real bad and it looked like the sacrifice was unavoidable, she’d kill me.”

  “What! That’s ridiculous, how could he expect you to believe that?” Rowan stormed to our front door in her cup-cake pink robe. “Let’s get Marcus, and talk to Midwood.”

  “I can’t see him before the weighing remember?” I sighed and Rowan stopped. “Besides, I don’t know if Farsky was telling the truth, or just making something up to…”

  “To what?” Rowan cocked her head to the side.

  “I don’t know, like get me on his team. He was being super weird, talking as if we were destined to be together or something.”

  “Whoa.” Rowan’s eyes grew wide. “Did you tell him about the fate-pairing?”

  “Yes, he just stormed out and slammed the door.” I hope they have restraining orders in the magical world.

  “If he hurts you, it’ll be a race between Marcus and I to see who can rip his throat out first.”

  Ugh, I feel sick to my stomach. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. I’ll talk to Marcus about it tomorrow.” If he’s not Camilla’s pet by then.

  “You better. If he’s working on spells like that then Marcus and the headmistress need to know.”

  “What if Farsky’s telling the truth about Midwood?” I asked.

  “He’s not.” Rowan sighed.

  Her nostrils flared, sniffing the air. “I can smell Kit and Cash in the building, no doubt they’re going to be standing guard in the hallways tonight.”

  “They’ll let me sneak out, won’t they?” I asked.

  “Best not to test that theory,” Rowan said with a sly grin. “We’ll have to go out the window.”

  “Isn’t there some sort of magical security to keep people from getting in and out?”

  “I know what kind of time it takes to knit a spell for an entire building, and I guarantee you they won’t have it in place until tomorrow morning at the earliest.” Rowan walked over to the window and looked down. “You can climb, can’t you?”

  Well, we’ll find out.

  After the slowest hours of my life ticked past, our departure time finally arrived. I feel nauseous, and stressed, and nervous, and-–

  “You’re going to do fine.” Rowan beamed at me. “I can see the look on your face, don’t doubt yourself, Nym. You’ve got strength in you, just keep on following your heart and it’ll work out the way it’s supposed to.”

  I smiled weakly back at Rowan. I sure hope you’re right.

  Down the drainpipe we went. I dropped into the garden below and stumbled. Rowan, of course, landed silently. Pausing for a moment, we heard no alarm or raised voices. Time to go. We made our way through the manicured garden of the dorms in the fading light, taking care to stay below the window line. Finally we made it to the trees, where Rowan and I jogged through the forest towards the leaning blue stone building which housed the chapel.

  “I’m coming inside,” Rowan stated, arms crossed.

  “No, Ro, it won’t be safe for you. Besides, someone needs to be in the room and cover for me if anyone checks in.”

  She shot me a glance with narrowed eyes.

  I sighed. “I’ll be fine on the way back. Once I win, I’m sure Marcus will be here, and he’ll walk me back.”

  “Fine. For the record though, I’m against leaving you on your own.” Rowan gave me a firm hug. “You’re going to do great, knock em dead.” She laughed. “Or well, you know what I mean.”

  Her encouragement is nice, but this isn’t a public speech. I’m having my freaking soul examined.

  I watched Rowan disappear into the gathering darkness before I turned and heaved open the iron door. This time, there were no candles or paintings in sight. Instead, it was as if I had opened the door straight into the crypt Atramen had said lay beneath the building. A damp chill wafted out towards me, carrying the scent of mold and decay. This has got to be the most cliché setting for a vampiric ritual. Humorous, yet still not comforting.

  Stepping inside, I let the door close behind me with a clank. The only light came from the torches on the walls, whose flames cast an unnatural blue color across the etched stone. The torches themselves appeared to be carved from the same white wood as the pews in the chamber above me.

  “It’s called ‘Shakarthra’s Flame’,” Atramen spoke as he emerged from the shadows. “It’s not a true flame of course, but a manipulation of water and energy.”

  “And Shakarthra is?”

  “The elemental god of water.” Atramen replied.

  The clicking of heels on stone sounded behind me. “Alright, that’s enough idle chit chat. Let’s finish this silly formality so I can get on with my evening.” Camilla’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “So be it.” Atramen nodded.

  With his words, the ghostly blue flames rose higher, casting their eerie light around the cold room. It’s spooky in here for sure, but it’s also beautiful. The dim light of the conjured flames danced across walls, giving me the strange sensation of being underwater. The light flickered on and off hundreds of multicolored pieces of glass inlaid into the stone around us. The jagged pieces had been arranged in swirling, flowing patterns. If someone told me I was standing in a mermaid burial ground right now, I would believe them.

  Camilla and I stood side by side in front of Atramen, and I refused to look her way. Although I’m sure she’s giving me a stupid smirk.

  “I am sure both of you understand the gravity of this ritual challenge, and what it means. The victor will be determined based on their pure, soulful want– and will be awarded the right to bond with the vampire, Marcus Saarinen.”

  Okay, Nyminia, keep it together. I closed my eyes, shutting out the shimmering visual stimuli around me. Do I really want to go through with this? Do I really want to win, even if I’m unsure of what my future may look like if I do? I took a deep breath, letting it quiet my mind.

  Yes, yes I do. I opened my eyes.

  “Nyminia of no family, Camilla Bonheur, take these and drink deeply.” Atramen passed us each a small soft flask. The fabric of the container appeared to be made of finely spun gold, stoppered at the top with an emerald stone. A beautiful container for something so horrible.

  Camilla pulled the stone out, and flung it into the corner of the crypt. Tilting her head back, she gave me a sly smile as she tipped the dark liquid past her dusk red lips.

 
Bottoms up. I unstoppered the flask myself, and began to drink. And drink. And drink, and drink, and drink. The container was no larger than my fist, yet the thick tangy liquid flowed from the sac without end. The edges of my vision blurred, and a tremor rolled through my body like a wave.

  I heard Camilla’s body hit the ground next to me with a thud, but I could not turn my head to look. Finally, my own legs gave way and the cold ground rushed up to meet me. Instead of the harsh stone however, I distantly felt Atramen’s robed arms catch me, and lay me softly on the ground.

  Laying on my back, immobile, I barely felt Atramen’s hands as he kindly pulled my legs out from under my body, arranging me flat on the smooth surface. His mannerisms faintly reminded me of a doctor. A real doctor, not like that creep.

  After he had arranged Camilla in a similar fashion, Atramen stood and spoke, “let’s begin.”

  CHAPTER 19

  SHE’S HERE

  “This night we look through the clouded glass of your souls, peering into the nature of your most guarded heart,” Atramen spoke in his low voice. Drawing back his sleeve, he produced an ornate dagger from the folds of his robe. “As an elder, a seer, and a member of the council, I accept the burden of judgment.”

  My vision remained fuzzy, however I could still make out the visual above me. Atramen grasped the bone hilt of the blade, and in a fluid motion opened a neat red gash on his palm. Black blood trickled forth, running tiny rivers down his outstretched arms.

  If I could move, I think I would be sick. Struggling to pull in a deep breath, I focused on Atramen. He’s mixing the blood in his palm with some sort of silver powder?

  Kneeling, he bent over Camilla’s unmoving body. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just make out what was happening. He’s drawing on her with the blood. If my muscles could have allowed it, I would have trembled. I have to remember, I’m not just doing this for Marcus, I’m doing it for myself.

  Atramen stood, moving the dagger in a slow circle above Camilla. As he finished the third pass of the blade, a feeling of supreme cold emanated from the vampire on the ground next to me.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw a pale green glow. It mingled with the blue light of the torches, creating a shade of aquamarine. Again Atramen kneeled, and placed the tip of the knife within the glow. I can’t see what he’s doing, but his face looks so focused. It’s like he’s reading her soul, as if there are actual words there. My mind shuddered. What is he going to read in mine?

  Atramen laughed humorlessly and whispered a string of words I couldn’t make out. The pale green light emanating from what I assumed was Camilla’s soul began to shift and change.

  Across the ceiling of the crypt her light projected a vivid scene. I saw the hands of a young woman grip the reins of a horse as they barreled down the steep side of a hill, drowned in sunlight. The horse stumbled, and both the woman and her steed fell in a heap. This must be one of Camilla’s memories? I’m seeing all this from her eyes. As Camilla lay amongst tall grass, a young man with long dark hair jogged into view– worry evident upon his face. Marcus?

  The scene shifted. Camilla slowly circled a giant bonfire, weaving through throngs of people wearing clothing stained with earth. A man played a long wooden flute while women performed a wild dance, and many people drank from carved wooden cups. Camilla came to a stop, her eyes focused on Marcus. He looks older in this memory, more like he does today. He approached her, a small smile on his face. She reached out to stoke the side of his face, and while his smile remained I saw fear in young Marcus’s eyes.

  Again the memory flowed and changed into something different. Marcus was screaming at Camilla, gesturing frantically. She was obviously shouting in return. I wish I could read lips. Candlelight glinted off Marcus’s polished steel armor. Other than the rivets holding it together, no sigil or markings adorned it. When it seemed as if the argument had reached it’s peak, Marcus pulled something from the pouch around his waist. Camilla turned, and after a flash of bright light, the memory ended.

  Wow, that was intense. My stomach churned. Is Camilla going to see my memories too?

  Atramen stood and gestured downwards with the hilt of the knife as if he was pushing the light back into her body. The glow, and cold which had accompanied it, receded instantly.

  I guess it’s my turn. Searching his face, I was unable to guess what Atramen interpreted in Camilla’s soul. Was it good, or bad? I’ll find out soon enough.

  The dark mixture left a cool wetness on my forehead as Atramen traced out some sort of symbol. A circle, and something else. As he waved the dagger in an arc above me, the strangest sensation sparked in my bones. It’s like my soul is being pulled from my body, but I guess that’s exactly what’s happening. Heat poured from me, and while the temperature did me no harm, steam rose from the damp ground.

  That’s me? An infinitely white glow had lifted from my body, and hovered overhead. It looks just like my life force but with more silver and violet. The colors swirled and danced together in the brightness. Like a cloud making shapes, the light formed an outline of my features mere inches above my face. The effect was haunting. I’m staring at myself, at my soul, in the eyes. Violet, stormy eyes.

  “This will hurt,” Atramen’s voice whispered from beyond as he dipped the tip of the knife into my light.

  The pain was catastrophic. I could not focus, could not breath, it was as if the fabric of my reality was being torn apart stitch by stitch– and I could feel every second of it. My mind screamed through my motionless muscles until a dark hand appeared and pressed down on my forehead. The effect was immediate, although I was still in pain, it had become manageable.

  I saw Atramen’s face clearly now that the blade had opened my soul. The white light danced across his mature features and narrowed eyes. His hand moved from my forehead to my chin, and delicately he turned my head to the side. A black cloak lay over Camilla’s motionless form, covering her from head to toe. She won’t see anything. Relief flooded my body.

  Atrament turned my head back to its original position and released my chin from his grasp. “Nyminia,” he whispered. “Reveal yourself.”

  The light of my soul grew, and my own colors adorned the ceiling. However Atramen didn’t turn his head to watch the memories, he kept his emotionless gaze fixed on my open soul.

  My light above took on shape, but not the one I had expected. Instead of my first meeting with Marcus, all I saw were flames. Endless flames. Is that all there is to me? At the core of my soul, am I really only the True Sacrifice? I took a deep breath. No, I refuse to believe it.

  The flames on the ceiling above parted, and through them I saw a new shape. A woman? She came closer and closer until I could make out her familiar features. Me? This isn’t a memory, I can’t have seen myself.

  Atramen’s grin brought my attention to his face. His white eyes seemed to glow as they reflected the twisting light.

  He stood, and using the hilt of the blade, pushed my soul back past the blurry lines of my physical body.

  What just… that… ah… I struggled to come to terms with what I had just endured, but my body knew what to do. It welcomed my soul back, and cradled it deep inside. I’d give anything to get up off this floor. My foot twitched, and I managed to roll my head to the side.

  Atramen was kneeling next to Camilla, removing the cloak from her body. Her deep brown hair was out of place, and her face much paler than it had been before. Atramen placed his palm over her eyes and spoke a few words while the muscles in her body jerked unnaturally.

  Robes flowing as he stood, Atramen walked slowly to the back of the crypt, hands clasped behind his back.

  The sensation of pins and needles pricked at my entire body as life flowed back into my muscles. Groaning, I pushed myself up to a seated position. Looking over, I saw Camilla had done the same. No trademark smirk though I see. I guess we’re both unsure about what Atramen saw.

  Legs shaking, I managed to stand. Turning, I offered a hand to Camil
la. She glared at me, hissing, and hauled herself up on her own. Suit yourself.

  Atramen cleared his throat.

  Finally, let’s hear the verdict - good or bad. Breathing heavily, I stole a glance at Camilla. She supported her weight against the wall, the blue light of the torches casting shadows across her gaunt face. I’m not sure if vampires can spew, but she looks like she needs one.

  “The act of wanting, if felt deep enough, leaves a distinct mark on our souls.” Atramen’s voice rattled around my rib cage. “I have examined two essences this night. The marks within you are clear, nothing is hidden from me.”

  I swore I saw a bright flash behind the clouds in Atramen’s eyes. Like lightning.

  “Camilla, your soul reflects your age.” His voice was softer now. “It is stained with the passage of time, like so many of our kind.”

  “Nyminia, your soul itself burns.” He smiled at me. “Fire has the ability bring life, as well as destroy it. In the choices ahead of you, remember this.”

  I swallowed, trying to steady my legs with my hands. What does he mean by that?

  “Stop stalling,” Camilla snapped. “Deliver the tiny pink girl the bad news.”

  Her words sound confident, but her voice is shaking.

  “Nyminia of no family is awarded the bonding rights,” Atramen spoke. “By the power of the weighing, the bond between Camilla and Marcus is severed in its entirety.”

  Camilla let out an inhuman howl and clawed at her face. Her veins lit up, glowing eerily from under her skin.

  Like the blood magic we drank is severing the bond from the inside? I shivered. I wonder what Marcus is feeling right now.

  “Madame Bonheur,” Atramen spoke. “If you should attempt to cause bodily harm to Marcus or Nyminia, you know the consequences.” He crossed his arms. “Swift and certain death.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, quickly shutting it when no words passed her lips.

  I hope she’s not crazy enough to do something stupid.

  Atramen bowed low. “Good luck, Nyminia.” Spinning on his heel, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving the familiar sulfuric stench behind.