The Agrista (Between the Lines Book 1)

by Shannon Lamb

  “I’m fine,” she said listlessly, mesmerized by his erratic heartbeat as she pressed her ear to his chest. “I’m fine,” she muttered, abruptly pulling away.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered softly as he hypnotically traced his thumb along the fine hair that graced her temples.

  “Yes. Really, I’m okay,” she laughed nervously. She cast her eyes downward to diminish the growing intimacy of the moment, but it only amplified it. Of course! He’s naked. She sharply looked away to hide the awkward smile fighting to make an appearance as her mouth flickered at the edges. “Where’s the Agrísta?” she asked hoarsely, her face flaming red.

  “The Agrísta is fine,” Gustav said with a sigh of relief, cradling the small silver box close to his chest. “As are the rest of us.”

  “Where are we?” asked Laylia, brushing grass from the hem of her dress as she stood.

  “Our mother’s tomb,” Fallon said lifelessly. “I’m not surprised that you don’t remember it, Laylia.”

  “Oh!” Laylia nodded slowly, cowed by the foreboding gleam of silver as she feigned recognition. “Oh,” she flinched, clumsily stumbling back to Bria’s side. “I haven’t been here since...” she trailed off, lost to the sudden influx of swirling thoughts.

  Laylia hadn’t been here since the day of their mother’s funeral. It was held over two decades ago, yet was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. Evangeline had died without ever knowing how twisted her precious little boy was, but Laylia could never forgive her mother for her ignorance, even in death.

  Her footsteps had never once graced the sullen stone pathway, letting her heavy words fall on deaf ears as she pressed her wet cheeks to the cold silver. She had entirely too much to say, and in turn, nothing at all to say. Out of her respect for her mother’s resting soul, she was able to stay as silent as the grave by avoiding her mother’s entirely.

  “Your mother, er, my mother…” Marie blinked solemnly, rectifying her fumbling thoughts and twisting words with a shaky breath. “Our mother…is in there?” she staggered to her feet, nearly toppling over before gaining a strong foothold.

  “Her body is,” Cerin said grimly. He preferred to look at things from a scientific perspective, finding little comfort in the metaphysical. What lay inside now was nothing more than a formation of dust. It was not his mother. Not anymore. He mentally reminded himself of that to assuage the grief welling inside.

  Marie’s eyes darted askance as she cautiously approached the door to the mausoleum. She averted her gaze to subdue the dreadful feeling seeding in her stomach, tugging at her heartstrings until they eventually snapped. She took a deep breath as she faced the building head on, struck with the sudden memory of where she’d seen it before.

  “I’ve dreamt about this place,” Marie closed her eyes, recalling the nightmares that plagued her dreams when she first arrived with vivid detail.

  “That’s impossible,” Cerin adamantly shook his head, furrowing his brow in deep thought. “You wouldn’t have even been born on Earth yet when her ceremony took place.”

  “I can’t explain it either,” Marie said, annoyed. “All I know is that I’ve seen that door in my dreams, twice.”

  “I don’t see the correlation.” Fallon scoffed. “You saw a silver door in your dream. So what? That doesn’t mean it’s the same door.”

  “It had the same disturbing face on it!” Marie reasoned angrily.

  Engraved upon the door was an insignia, one that strongly resembled a Greek theater mask, symbolic of untimely tragedy.

  “Was that always there?” Laylia asked as she vacantly stared into its hollow, silver eyes glinting ominously in the sinking sun.

  “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,” said Cerin, absently stroking his chin.

  “Me either,” Fallon admitted reluctantly. She watched the face as if it were a fierce opponent, poised to strike.

  “Gustav, do you know what it means?” Marie turned to the mousling, who appeared to be deep in thought.

  “No, but it certainly can’t mean anything good,” he crumpled his snout, eyeing the door dubiously. “Unfortunately, we’ve no time for speculation. Cailene could arrive at any moment. We must proceed.” Gustav urgently nudged the open Agrísta toward Marie’s face, revealing a small silver key banked on a pillow of plush red velvet. “Remember what I told you, child, about what lies on the other side of that door. Do not hesitate, even for a moment, for it could mean your very life,” he whispered to Marie while the others were busy with their rueful inspection. She’d never particularly cared for the notion of following orders blindly, and she wasn’t inclined to trust him so easily. Still, she kept her growing suspicion and protestations to herself, knowing she’d make up her own mind when the time came. Hopefully, she would make the right choice.

  “Cailene won’t come here. She doesn’t like to get her hands dirty,” Marcel purred. He struggled to position himself with dignity, despite his crippling bonds.

  “I don’t understand why we had to go through all of this just for the key to her tomb. Couldn’t we have simply asked the groundskeeper for one?” Marie asked innocently, ignoring Marcel.

  “Mother was of royal blood!” barked Fallon, positioning herself to strike.

  “Calm down, Fallon!” Laylia snarled. “She didn’t grow up here like the rest of us.”

  “Things work a little differently here, Marie,” said Cerin. “When someone of great importance dies, they’re kept in a tomb, as opposed to being buried. Traditionally, their tomb is made of glass, but mother insisted on a silver tomb in her will. Her reasoning is unbeknownst to us, but we had no choice but to respect her wishes. Since our mother was the Queen, and therefore considered above all others, she shares this space with no one. There’s only one grave and one key. After the ceremony, the tomb is locked and the key is destroyed, so that no one can disturb her eternal peace. It might seem a little odd to you, but it’s a long-standing tradition,” he explained somberly. “The fact that the key to her tomb still exists is very troubling,” his expression soured, reflecting – just for a moment – wisdom well beyond his physical years.

  “Perhaps,” Marie prefaced softly, “there was a secret buried with her…”

  “…and someone wants us to find out what it is.” Laylia finished her sister’s thought as they shared a look of fearful intrigue.

  “The Agrísta brought the five of you here for a reason. We can continue to waste time theorizing, but the only way you’re going to find out the truth is if you press on,” Gustav said firmly.

  “You want us to desecrate our mother’s tomb?” Fallon was beyond livid, punctuating her words with flying spittle as her face burned red.

  “We won’t be desecrating anything, Fallon,” Cerin sighed. “Our mother is gone. Only her body remains.”

  “I’ll have no part in this!” Fallon angrily spun on her heel and buried her face into Cayden’s shoulder, muffling a few choice words better left unsaid.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to know. We’ve risked not only our lives, but the lives of countless others, just to get to this point. We can’t stop now.” Marie turned toward the mausoleum and squared her shoulders. She thrust out her chest and jutted her chin, determined to meet this final task with the utmost dignity. Alex mimicked every meticulously long, graceful stride as precisely as a shadow, walking in perfect tandem with his creator’s will.

  The sky grew darker with every step forward they took, but Marie persisted despite her ebbing courage. She knew that the only thing she could control right now was her body. She was powerless to silence the melee of screaming thoughts, pleading with her to turn back at the first sight of fat black clouds rolling in. They raped the sky of its beauty and left it a morose gray, devoid of all whispers of avian life.

  A hush fell over the surrounding wildlife as the wind died abruptly, bathing the land in an unnatural silence that stung Marie’s bones down to their marrow. She craned her neck and surveyed the land with a parting gla
nce. The landscape had been ravaged. The plant life withered to rot, littered with the fragile bones of the forest, limp and sad amidst the desiccated swards.

  In the blink of an eye, this sacred space had been twisted into an ashen desert, burning with the ancient fervor of fire and brimstone as the air grew thick as blood. Marie stiffened as she became painfully aware of every little nuance of the shifting atmosphere. Her chaotic thoughts struggled to keep pace, falling short with warbled gasps and trembling palms.

  Alex nuzzled his face into the concave of her hip, gently reminding her of his presence. She instinctively dug her fingers into the crown of his mane. She held fiercely tight to his hide, as if he were her lifeline amidst the chaos, and she would drown if she lost hold. This was only the calm before the storm. The worst had yet to come.

  A gyre of angry clouds swirled directly above her head, circling she and Alex like birds of prey, primed for the kill. Verdant wisps of accumulation siphoned energy from the dense air, coalescing into a meandering cyclone that merrily cavorted along the hilltops as if it were playfully skipping stones.

  Throngs of purple lightening branched out across the sky with a terrible roar. They screamed and hissed as they hit the ground directly in front of Marie in violent succession, grinding the stone to dust. She and Alex stood frozen in the eye of the storm, paralyzed by their growing confusion as the ground trembled and groaned in protest.

  Deep red plumes of smoke rose from the sizzling stone fissures, blocking the mausoleum from view as its willowy tendrils curled through the air and beckoned to the sky. It absorbed the surrounding chaos and left the land blanched and weeping.

  Marie and Alex clumsily staggered several steps back, refusing to tear their eyes from the thickening smoke as they leaned on each other for support. Her companions had been rendered speechless. They watched the onslaught of events with bated breath as they murmured half-forgotten prayers to themselves.

  A dark figure slowly emerged from the rapidly dissipating smoke, as if stepping straight out of a nightmare. It resembled an Umbra, but it had been twisted into an entirely new subspecies that tripled in mass. Thousands of thick, serrated glass shards made up the creature’s jagged hide, though it looked anything but fragile.

  A gut-wrenching cacophony rang out as its sagging wings tore through the soil, constructed of curved, rusty daggers that seemed to trap past victims’ screams in the blood that bathed the dull edges. The maddening dissonance tore the breath from Marie’s lungs and left her unable to stand.

  It wasn’t until Marie had dared to look upon the creature’s face that she realized who and what it was. Cailene, in her Umbraic form. A ceramic mask of carved ivory clung to her fine bones as tightly as a second skin, with black hollow eyes and a Glasgow smile, framed by a mane of vigorous black flames.

  Marie had been dreading this moment since she’d first laid eyes on Cailene. She knew that all paths would eventually lead her here. She’d spent the past several weeks in sheer terror of this moment. Now that it was here, she felt leeched of all emotion, including the sensible fear that would determine her survival.

  “Get out of my way!” Marie had managed to muster up just enough courage to look straight into Cailene’s eyes. She trembled at the thought of what lay hidden in their depths, staring back at her with dark amusement.

  “Safe in the shadows, are you? Foolish beast. I can see you.” Cailene’s hollow eyes settled on Alex’s shocked face. Her words disintegrated what little bravado Marie had left.

  Cailene’s voice was an amalgamation of competing decibels, merged into a three part dissonance that made its listener want to gouge their ears out. All three voices spoke in perfect synch, yet each one could be distinctly heard among the straying fugue, resulting in a grating stridency that made Marie’s skin crawl.

  The softest of the three screamed every word, yet still struggled to be heard. It had the haunting bellows of a madman who’d seen what lies in the darkness far beyond the scope of imagination, and desperately needed others to see in hope of validation as he clings to the last vestiges of former sanity.

  The second voice was but a whisper, but its chilling presence made it the loudest of them all. It lay dormant in the back of one’s mind, springing to life at the first battle of conscience. Seemingly harmless as it crawls into the ears of the fickle hearted, inciting evil deeds and deeming them sane as it sways a person to find reason in the wrong choices.

  The most startling voice among the three was that of a regal woman. Her eerily calm demeanor amidst the chaos was striking. Bolstered with unnerving detachment, it augmented the two sparring voices by creating a terrible counterpart that tied them all together.

  Marie stuffed her hands into the crook of her elbows and willed herself not to tremble. She felt no more valiant than a scared child hiding beneath the covers, but she did her damnedest not to show such weakness in the face of her enemy. She cringed at the subtle rattling of her armor as she struggled to remain still, no more able to stop it than she could will her heart to stop beating.

  Laylia rushed to her sister’s side with Bria close in tow, clumsily clutching her free hand. Marie gasped at the sudden spark of contact, thinking it a first move on Cailene’s part as she shakily braced herself. She jerked her head to the side and melted into her next exhalation. The rigid tension drained from her shoulders at the sight of Laylia standing tall at her side. She found great comfort in the warmth of her sister’s fragile hand.

  “Let us pass.” Marie’s voice was so soft that it had only reached Laylia’s ears.

  “Louder, Mariella. I’m right here. We all are.” Marie was blind to the fact that Laylia’s voice was shaking too, and focused only on her firm grasp. She took a deep breath, gathered up her strength, and spoke again.

  “Let us pass!” Marie’s screams were augmented by the steel walls of the mausoleum, reverberating through the valleys with resounding clarity for all to hear.

  “Oh, I’d love to let you pass, but she won’t hear of it,” Cailene pouted. “I can see the power coming off of you in waves, child. Oh, I remember that power. Surprising for one so young. So ripe! It looks absolutely delicious!” The creature slowly ran its forked tongue over its quivering lips as it began to salivate deep violet blood. “Oh, I do hope you can defeat her! She’s fading, but you’re so fresh!” A manic laughter erupted from the creature’s chest and rang through the hills.

  “She? Who is she?” Marie had all she could do to keep the quaver from her voice.

  “This body. My host,” Cailene sighed. “Tsk. Tsk. What am I saying? This body is only an extension of my host. My true host lies but a hairsbreadth away. She was quite innocent when she went in, but years of captivity has driven her as mad as the old King! She craves you, child. Oh, such longing!”

  “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?” Marie whispered to Laylia with a sidelong glance.

  “No, but I’m done talking to this thing.”

  “Anything she tells you is a lie.” Gustav was suddenly at Marie’s side, vying for her attention. “No good will come of conversing with this grotesque creature. She will only poison your mind!”

  “Tsk. Tsk. You’re one to talk, little mousling. But okay, I’ll play along!” Cailene giggled.

  “The others are about to make their move. They can’t defeat her, but it will be enough to distract her so you can get to the door,” Gustav whispered as his eyes darted askance.

  “In a moment, we’re going to make a run for it,” Marie whispered, clutching Laylia’s hand.

  Marie trembled with frightful anticipation. She mentally recited useless mantras to herself in an attempt to gain strength from the hollow words as she struggled to build up courage. Laylia held her chin high, took a deep breath, and relaxed her posture with a prolonged exhale. If there was one thing she could do, it was act. She was prepared to act as Marie’s stronghold, despite her own niggling doubt.

  With no more warning than the flick of a wrist, Fallon violently th
rust out her arm, sending her beloved sword Silver carving through the air in layers as it coiled around Cailene’s hind leg. Sharp as the blades were, they couldn’t cut through her thick glass hide to return to their original form as one fat sword, and fell hopelessly limp. She attempted to tighten the reins of the coil, but had only managed the grating chink of metal scraping along glass. She convulsed at the resulting sound.

  “Oh! Is it time to play?” Cailene excitedly spun around, yanking the sword from Fallon’s iron grip in one swift movement.

  “Now’s our chance!” Marie hissed, mercilessly dragging Laylia’s limp body along the craggy walkway as they fumbled to stay upright.

  Knowing she had no chance of retrieving her sword, Fallon hastily pulled another weapon from her belt. It was a small piece of metal-edged wood that fit snugly into the palm of her hand. The confounding device expanded into a rectangular two-headed spear. It was jointed like the bellows of an accordion, allowing the two halves to move diagonally as they crisscrossed.

  Fallon leapt forward and landed in a crouching position beside Cailene. She shifted her weight between her hips as she balanced on the balls of her feet, deftly slicing her weapon through the air and tracing the shape of an hour glass. She’d managed to hit six pivotal pressure points, but all she had to show for it was cracked glass and two mangled blades.

  Shock contorted Fallon’s stern features as she dumbly threw her weapon aside and jumped away, just in time to dodge the tour de force that was Cailene’s massive wingspan. It had nearly decapitated her as she swiveled back and slammed down on her backside, lucky to escape with the skin on her back.

  Cayden watched in horror as he plunged his forearms into the dirt and felt the world churn beneath his paws. Thick roots sprouted through dense tiers of rock in a maelstrom of pulverized stone and dust, twisting around Cailene’s torso and pinioning her to the ground. The brief prostration provided Fallon just enough time to duck out of harm’s way as she scoured her arsenal for a more effective weapon.