The mirror on the vanity in front of me reflected a woman I didn’t recognize. When I first arrived in Helker, Angela had braided my hair. Now the braid hung lopsided along the side of my head. My face looked like something out of a horror hologram. Black, maroon, and red blood covered my face in splotches, spatters, and smears. My eyes no longer shone a vivid blue (the way Zaren described them), but were a dull, almost nonexistent color. A long cut went through my right eyebrow and celestrum seeped from the wound. The shirt I wore no longer appeared lavender, but dingy, covered in blood and guts. One of the sleeves was gone, ripped away at the shoulder. The other hung in a tattered mess, shredded by either the snakes or the dorvey. My fingers were covered in blood, the skin under the fingernails blackened. Even my belt buckle, Tortevia, was drenched in all manner of fluids. The only item that remained unscathed was Michael’s medallion.
“Do you mind if I have a bath first? It’s apparently been ages since I was clean.”
His expression caught mine in the glass. “You are disgusting. I suppose a good washing would be best. No sense scaring the guests.” He went to the door. “Several of the wedding guests will be your loved ones. I invited your parents. They declined. But the king and queen of Alayeah are coming.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “So my parents will be there? Not that you’re giving them a choice, I’m sure.” Despite the circumstances, excitement beat in my chest. I would see my parents. Though I knew they died, I longed to see them, hold them in my arms, and have them comfort me. I needed them.
He laughed. “True. Zaren and his lover, Palamina, are also coming,” he said with a cruel sneer.
At the mention of Zaren’s name, my heart pounded faster. Zaren! My mind cried out in anguish. It hurt thinking of him with Palamina.
Ramien continued on with his guest list. “I also invited Palmo, Dervinias, and the human, Cheverly. ” While he spoke a huge bathroom appeared to the right of the vanity.
“Angela, help her. I’ll return shortly.”
He left, slamming the door.
I gulped in a huge breath of air, pushing down the new wave of pain threatening to burst.
Angela scurried over. “Highness, let’s get you washed up.”
I wanted to laugh. Ha! The blood might come off my skin, but it would never leave my soul.
Angela helped me out of the chair, and dragged me into the bathroom. She removed my clothes and had me under the water within seconds. My mind was like a blank screen. Empty. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to. Any sort of contemplation would bring up all that had happened, and I wasn’t ready. If I left my mind blank, I wouldn’t have to remember what I’d done, those I lost, and what was yet to come.
The hot water slapped against my skin in stinging procession. Ducking my head in the spray, I closed my eyes, wishing the water would wash me away along with the dirt and grime.
Venus, come child.
17. Unbelievable
“Where,” I whispered.
“What did you say, Highness,” Angela asked, scrubbing my back with some sort of brush.
“Nothing,” I shook my head and closed my mouth. Tortevia. I said her name with my mind.
Very good, child, she purred softly. I must show you something. As she spoke my mind opened up . . .
The scalding water. Angela scrubbing my back. The stifling fogginess of the air. It all evaporated.
I stood in nothingness. That was the only way to explain it. Emptiness swallowed up my feet. On all sides were stars, stars, and more stars. A menagerie of them in bursts of reds, purples, and blues. Directly in front of me sat an irrihunter, like the gargoyles on old churches.
Tortevia, I asked astonished.
She roared, extending her wings out and upward, giving me a full view of how massive they were. Hello, child, she said with a soft purr.
Where am I? I took a hesitant step toward her. The ground, though I couldn’t see it, felt solid. I took another step.
She chuffed, her head moving up and down in humor. This is space. Didn’t the stars give you a clue?
I snorted. But it’s firm.
Everything is substance. Even the matter between objects. But that’s not why you’re here.
Then why? I reached her side, and longed to touch her fur. May I?
Of course.
I sank my fingers into her lush black mane, ran my hand over her furry back, touching the cartilage where a wing extended, and pressed my cheek against hers. You are beautiful, Tortevia. Being near her in this way made me long for Sadraden.
Tortevia turned, her violet eyes glowing in pleasure. As are you. Now climb on. Let’s go for a ride.
My heart skipped a beat. Hopping on, I situated my naked self in front of her wings, so my legs rested against her neck.
With two giant leaps, her wings beat and Tortevia flew. I let out a squeal of exhilaration. I missed flying almost as much as I missed my mom and dad. Together we went faster and faster.
How are we doing this, Tortevia? I watched as planets, stars, moons, and suns went by.
It’s possible because of what you are.
My stomach clenched in apprehension. Not Tortevia too. First Ramien, then my sister, and now her. I wanted to shout, “I’m a kelvieri. Venus Carania, daughter to the king and queen of Alayeah.” But I didn’t.
What am I?
You are the child of Ith and Aetha, which makes you an Eternal . . . mostly.
I almost fell off Tortevia. No. That’s not true. My parents—
Aren’t your real parents, Tortevia finished.
We closed in on an enormous violet planet surrounded by many moons, and three suns.
This is the planet, Stiel. Home to the Gods. They are called Eternals. Aetha’s essence was born there. Your father’s essence was created on Stiel as well, though his body was born on Earth. An unloving mother raised him until the age of eight.
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe it. Ith’s mother sounded a lot like Michael’s.
Many millennia ago an Eternal by the name of Egan rose up against the Creator. He and his followers wanted to rule, wanted the Creator’s power. Fearing for his people, the Creator exiled Egan along with those who supported him. They became known as the fallen or ferethers. They have no home, no soul. They are like cockroaches, invading other planets, tasting the essence of higher souls, but never consuming. They don’t have the power.
I don’t understand. How do you know so much? The story was fascinating, but it still didn’t explain why Ramien needed me or how she could know what I was.
She roared, and said, I am the Gods’ Guardian. Anything and everything the Creator wants me to know, I know.
That made sense. But why me?
Because you are an Eternal. And when you agreed to become Ramien’s wife, you willingly bound your soul to him. Essentially you gave him your soul. Since it was done by choice, not taken, Ramien can consume your soul. Once the ceremony is complete, which won’t be a marriage but a sacrifice, he will be as powerful as the Creator.
How? How can my soul allow him to rival the Creator?
You are as the Creator. A goddess. The ferether was like you, like the Creator, until he was stripped of his soul. Now you’ve offered him yours. Once he completes the ritual, your soul will be fully his.
What’ll happen to me? I gripped the fur at Tortevia’s neck, fear pounding against my chest.
You, dear child, will no longer exist, except what little part of you may reside inside Ramien.
But, why are you telling me this now? I’ve already agreed to become Ramien’s wife. He can control my body whenever he wants. Could I find a way to make myself no longer exist? Make my soul disappear before Ramien was able to perform the ritual. I realized even if I had died during Ramien’s senseless game, he still would have had access to my soul.
Tortevia interrupted my thoughts. You see, a thousand years ago, Ith and Aetha were brought to Kelari with the sole purpose of freeing the souls Ramien held captive. The
y did, but they couldn’t destroy Ramien and the net he’s placed over Kelari. Only a ferether can destroy a ferether. So they made a pact with Ramien. If he promised not to murder the new bodies of higher souls, they agreed to let him keep the souls of those who died.
When Ith and Aetha created the bodies of those they saved, they made it so they could become immortal, hoping such a drastic step would keep most of the souls from suffering at Ramien’s hand. It worked. Ramien has a lot fewer souls than he did before.
I remembered the Room of Souls deep within Helker, and shuddered.
Ith and Aetha bided their time, knowing someday they would find a way to destroy the ferether. Michael’s conception was the first piece. When they discovered his mother’s pregnancy, they whisked Catherine away, and placed her on Earth. She wasn’t kelvieri, though the immortal’s gift changed her hair color and eyes. Everything immortal went into her child. That meant she would continue to age as a normal human. They knew Ramien couldn’t leave without freeing the souls he held captive on Kelari. So Michael remained safe. Almost a year after Michael was born, you came into the world. Michael’s match.
If Michael is part ferether, does he have a soul?
I think you know the answer to that, but yes. Michael does have a soul. He’s the only ferether ever to possess one. It’s because of his mother. Her kelarian blood allowed the Creator to grant him one.
I thought of Catherine, the abominable way she treated her son and had a hard time believing. But then she must’ve been through a lot. I couldn’t imagine the difficulties of living among humans. Pretending to be one, knowing her husband killed aliens for a living.
A pang of sorrow passed through my heart for her.
Tortevia went on, Finally two beings were created, each balancing the other. Good and evil. God and devil. Ferether and Eternal. Together, you can kill Ramien and break the curse binding the souls to Kelari.
Holy cret. So, Ith and Aetha didn’t conceive me out of love, but necessity? It grieved me to think I wasn’t born of love, but as a weapon. I’m a pawn. A new wave of grief constricted my heart.
We entered Stiel’s atmosphere and I studied the landscape. Wispy periwinkle clouds hovered over large metal skyscrapers. There weren’t any trees, or plants. No land or water. Only strange clouds and metal. The planet was cold and I shivered.
My head hurt. Tortevia told me a lot at once. Too bad Michael was killed. I guess they’ll have to wait another thousand years and hope their next son or daughter doesn’t fail. Bitterness consumed my mind. How many died because of Ith and Aetha’s scheme. Perhaps if I’d known, I would’ve done things differently.
Oh, child. We’re all part of a plan.
I sniffed.
Do you still have the medallion Michael gave you?
I clutched the warm metal in my hand. Yes.
Good. Keep it on at all times. It’s the key to killing Ramien. I must take you back. We’ve been gone too long already. Promise me you won’t give up hope.
What aren’t you telling me, Tortevia?
Just promise.
Fine.
18. Say My Name
I opened my eyes and stared into the fearful reflection of Angela. She’d dressed me in a steel gray unisa, and brought me over to the chair in front of the vanity.
“You’re back . . . will look lovely in the dress.” Angela breathed a sigh of relief.
I searched her face, curious to know whether she understood my mind had been elsewhere.
She gave a brief nod, putting a finger to her lips. “The master will be here soon. I’m almost finished.”
The cuts and scratches on my face and body were healed, replaced by smooth creamy skin. Kohl liner and thickened lashes accentuated my eyes, making them appear large, and luminous. A hint of rosy color tinged my cheeks, and garnet lipstick stained my lips. Angela outdid herself with my hair. Pulled off my neck and away from my face, dozens of large curls circled my head, like a halo. Within the curls she randomly placed tiny black flowers and diamonds.
“Last one,” she said, spinning me around, clapping her hands. “I love doing hair.” Her eyes shone with happiness.
I took her hand in mine, glad for her joy. “I can see why. You’re a great talent, Angela.”
She blushed and curtseyed. “Thank you, Highness.” She opened a black box and pulled out an enormous crown. Made of thousands of white diamonds, except the gem in the center, which glistened a deep purple. It was so dark it appeared almost black. “A wedding gift from the master.”
A fluttering of nerves enveloped my heart. Stay strong, Venus, I told myself as I touched Michael’s medallion. “That’s . . .” Disgusting. Gaudy. Flamboyant. Ugly. Many unkind words popped into my head, but I said, “Too much. I can’t wear it.”
Angela’s expression changed to fear. “He insisted. Please, Highness.”
Resignedly, I agreed. “Fine.” I was a pawn. What choices were mine?
After she secured it on my head, I asked, “Now what?”
“The dress, I think. Then I’ll help you with your shoes.”
I cautiously nodded my consent, the heaviness of the crown like a noose around my neck. I rose, and grabbed my belt. Tortevia. She sparkled like new.
“I’m wearing the belt,” I added, not unkindly, but sternly. No negotiations.
“I think she—the belt would look lovely with the dress.” Angela seemed to know a lot more than she let on.
“Good,” I said, and she smiled, obviously pleased.
I stepped into the dress, and Angela slid it over my curves, fastening it along the side. It hugged my body perfectly. Had I been marrying someone for love, this dress would’ve made me feel like a queen. But I wasn’t and I didn’t. I felt sick.
Hope, child, Tortevia growled into my mind as I buckled her in place around my waist.
Right.
The boots shone the same color as the large gem on the crown. Softer though, like an irrihunter’s fur.
Once Angela was satisfied, I pushed myself off the bed. The door opened. Ramien’s eyes raked my body and rested momentarily on my buckle.
“The belt is an odd choice.” His eyes found mine. Meeting his gaze, I stood straight and tall, refusing to let him see my apprehension.
“Come, Venus. Our guests are waiting.” He held out a black-jacketed arm for me to take. I casually obliged, ignoring my revulsion at his sickening scent.
19. Sabotage
The already over lavish dining hall had been transformed into an ultra billowy, flowery smorgasbord of . . . everything. The heavy drapes and gold walls were gone, replaced by gauzy white curtains, and stark white walls, tattooed with sophisticated silver flowers. On one end, a fifty-piece orchestra played softly. The musicians were all dressed in white. Their instruments were white. Even their music stands were white. Next to them a stage had been erected. Large, white columns wrapped in flowers adorned each side and held up a canopy of flowers. The floor of the stage appeared to be made of glass. Above, the chandeliers gave off a soft light.
Thousands of guests, all of them captive souls in bodies Ramien created, sat at hundreds of tables lining either side of a long walkway. Each centerpiece on the tables was a large glass pedestal vase filled with a spray of white, silver, and lavender flowers. Beautiful crystal goblets were filled with different colors of sparkling liquid. Food sat on thick ceramic plates.
The overripe scent of flowers permeated the air, noxious as the creature beside me.
We walked in and a hush filled the hall. Nervous, I licked my lips. “Overcompensating, Ramien?” I asked, trying to sound confident.
“No, dear Venus. This is nothing. If I wanted I could change it all.” As he spoke the room morphed into a dank, black cave filled with thousands of smelly creatures. Saliva dribbled from their rotting mouths. I shuddered. Ramien laughed and changed the room back.
He led me to the edge of the walkway. “Can you do this alone or would you prefer someone walk you down the aisle?”
&
nbsp; “What? No, I’m f—” I wasn’t able to finish. Zaren was suddenly in front of me, looking so gorgeous tears sprang to my eyes. “Zaren?” I ran and threw myself into his open arms.
“Princess,” he whispered into my neck.
“You’re here,” I cried. The syrupy odor of death surrounded him. And I knew the body he wore was created my Ramien. No more lemons and honey. Sob after sob ripped through me. “I’m so sorry, Zaren. So, so sorry.”
“Hush. Quiet. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”
“You’re dead,” I uttered. “Everything will not be okay.”
He pushed me away from him and dabbed my cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket. Worry creased his brow. “Go on,” he said.
I nodded.
Zaren moved off the walkway, his hands clasped together in front of his body. A beautiful woman, with thick, cherry-red hair, slid next to him, tucking her hand under his arm. He leaned into her. I knew it was Palamina. “Have faith.” Zaren winked.
I tried to smile my thanks, but it wouldn’t come. The man I loved was in the arms of another. Everyone I cared for was dead, and I was about to ransom my life to save my parents . . . Ugh, could things get any worse?
Next to Zaren and Palamina were Palmo, Dervinias, and Chev.
I grasped Chev’s hand, and asked, “Where’s your baby?”
She shook her head, and turned away.
I kept walking.
Music started playing, and a large creature with the head of a rhinoceros came to stand in the center of the stage. He wore the sacred robes of our kelarian shaman. They were stark white. Silver trim—the color of sacrifice—lined the robes.
Ramien waited on the right of him.
“All rise,” the shaman said. The guests rose and lined the walkway.
20. Love And Affection
The closer I got to the stage, the more I realized I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t marry Ramien. All my life I was taught marriage meant a continued promise of peace between two countries. It was never about love and I was okay with that. But this? Marrying . . . or sacrificing myself, as Tortevia said, so Ramien could steal my soul. “No! I won’t.”
Beguiled (Book 2 Immortal Essence series) Page 9
