by F. E. Heaton
She was smiling in it and she tried to recall what she'd been thinking about. It had probably been thoughts of Valentine. He was the only thing that could distract her enough to make her forget the world around her.
Venturi had come back while the man had been making up the passport, but he'd gone straight into the kitchen with the canisters and hadn't come out.
Carrying the passport with her, she wandered through the corridors to the kitchen. She paused in the shadows just inside the hall and her gaze rested on Venturi. He had his eyes closed and was leaning against the counter. His arms were folded and, for a moment, she wondered if he was asleep. Her gaze dropped to his stomach. It was still, but it wasn't a confirmation that he was sleeping. She'd noticed that he didn't breathe, at least not often. He would sigh occasionally and sometimes when he looked at her, she could see he was breathing heavily.
His hand fell to his side and then grasped the counter behind him. She frowned when she saw the blood coating his fingers and rushed into the room.
"Venturi, are you hurt?” Panic rose up inside her and no matter what she did, she couldn't stop herself from reacting. She had wanted to be strong around him and not give him reason to believe that she liked him, but she couldn't let him remain hurt, not when she had the power to heal him. She told herself that she would do the same for any of the vampires and werewolves she knew but only Valentine would be healed with her blood as well as her magic.
She watched the sticky trail of crimson ooze out from between his fingers as he pressed his hand harder into his side.
"What happened?” She placed her passport down on the counter and tried again but he still didn't speak. Stepping closer, she ignored his threatening growl and carefully peeled his fingers away from his stomach. She peered at the wound, frowning when she saw the deep cut. “Speak to me, Venturi. Tell me what happened."
She needed him to speak so he would concentrate on that rather than what she was doing. Healing him would hurt. Her instincts had told her that when she'd had to heal Valentine, only then she'd fed him her blood to keep him distracted.
"I won,” he said with a tiny smile that looked more hurt than triumphant. “Devil had a knife and I was not paying attention."
She licked her lips at the sight of the blood staining his side and the scent of it that hung in the air and then pressed her hand against his wound.
"This will hurt,” she said and stared into his eyes, hoping to capture his attention and keep his thoughts away from what she was going to do.
"What...?” He went to look down but she caught hold of his jaw, forcing his head back up.
"Look at me. Tell me what happened.” She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze but didn't look away. Focusing all of her energy, she shut out his words when he began to speak and directed all of her power towards her hand.
She could feel it building as his mouth moved, his words not registering in her mind as it swam with the magic and the buzz that ran through her veins. Her marks itched, burning into her and making her whole body heat up.
He was doing a good job of talking, but she could see the fear in his eyes. She wanted to reassure him that everything was going to be all right, but she couldn't break her concentration by speaking.
Pressing her hand hard into his side, she released the magic and closed her eyes as he roared. All the warmth left her body and then pain followed in its wake when she hit the wall near the doorway. Dropping to the floor, she growled but didn't have the strength to lift herself up and attack him for what he'd done. She told herself that it had probably been an instinctive reaction. She had hurt him and he had defended himself.
"Prophecy ... I..."
His hands grasped her arm and she tried to stand but her knees wobbled beneath her and she collapsed, panting hard while staring at the floor tiles.
"I'm sorry. You took me by surprise. I did not ... I should not have..."
Pushing herself up, she stood with his assistance and then looked around at her backside. She was covered in white plaster dust from the wall. Looking at it, she saw the dent in the tiles where she'd impacted.
"It's okay, really. It's not the first time someone's thrown me against a wall and it certainly wasn't the most painful.” She gave him a smile.
He frowned, clearly wanting to know who else had thrown her into a wall and who had been stronger than him.
"Is everything all right in there?” Mathias’ voice drifted into the room.
She turned her head slightly and shouted, “It's fine."
Dusting her backside down, she busied herself with ridding her combats of dirt and walked across the kitchen towards the refrigerator. She opened it and stuck her head inside, searching for the canisters of blood that Venturi had brought back with him.
He tapped her shoulder and she turned to look at him. He was holding one of the metal containers out to her. Taking it from him, she unscrewed the lid and grabbed a glass off the side. In the brief moment she'd made eye contact with him, she'd been able to see that the initial shock of what she'd done to him had worn off, leaving him with questions that she knew he was going to put a voice to.
She swiftly drank one glass of blood and refilled it. Her fingers traced the rim idly while she waited for him to find his voice. She kept her head bent and looked at him through her eyelashes so he didn't notice that she was watching him.
He lifted his black shirt and ran his fingers over the place where the wound had been. It was such a careful sweep of his fingers, as though he didn't believe she had really closed the wound and a more forceful touch would reopen it. She wanted to tell him it was gone, that she'd knitted together his flesh and stopped the bleeding, but if she did that then he would know she was watching him. She sipped her blood and smiled inside when he grew more confident and poked his side, pushing his finger hard into his flesh and leaving an impression of his fingernail when he withdrew it.
She could help but giggle when he looked at the hole in his shirt and pushed his finger through it from the inside, wriggling it when it was visible.
"What did you do?” he whispered in a voice so incredulous that she almost laughed. She'd shown him the extent of her magic and he still seemed stunned by it.
"Healing you was a lot easier than calling the magic so I could see Valentine,” she said and raised her head a fraction so she could see him properly.
"This ... is ... it hurt like Hell."
"Sorry about that. I don't think I've perfected it yet and I had no way of distracting you. I think my magic just speeds the healing process so what would have taken a few days, takes only a few seconds. The side effect is that you get all the pain and discomfort of healing squashed into that amount of time too.” She shrugged and took another sip of the blood.
He stared at her.
"I'm still learning,” she said and put her glass down. The air between them seemed to grow heavy again, so thick that she couldn't breathe, and she cursed him for the way he was looking at her with eyes full of passion.
She searched her surroundings for something she could use to take his attention away from her and smiled when she saw her passport. Picking it up, she looked at it and then handed it to him.
"Does it look like me?” she said and he flicked it open to the back and stared at the picture. Then he stared at her. She swallowed. “Valentine can alter perception. I can't do that so I'm stuck with a good old-fashioned fake."
"He had powers?"
"He has powers,” she corrected him and redirected his attention to the passport. “So?"
"It is very much like you. Mia bella angela."
She snatched the passport back and glared at him. She wanted to tell him not to speak to her in such a way, but she didn't have the courage and she didn't want things to become sour between them again. Since arriving in Oxford, he'd become more pleasant to be around and she'd been starting to forget all the snide remarks he'd made about Valentine.
"I guess that makes Valentine a lucky man then,” sh
e said and walked out of the room.
Heading along the corridor, she heard Venturi's quick footsteps approaching behind her and she doubled her pace. She was about to go into the room where Mathias was studying the scroll when Venturi grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.
She frowned when he backed her up against the wall. He towered over her in the dimly lit corridor and looked down at her with such intensity that instinct forced her to look away.
"Prophecy,” he whispered close to her ear.
"Venturi, don't,” she said and pressed her hands against his chest.
His grip tightened and for a split second, she thought he was going to do something they'd both regret but instead he pulled back and stared straight into her eyes.
"He is a lucky man, but luck has a tendency to alter or run out, and I shall be there the day it does.” He released her and walked away.
She leaned heavily against the wall and watched him go. What did he expect from her? She barely knew him and she'd given him no reason to form an attachment to her. If she had, she would be able to understand his feelings, but in her mind, he had been like this from the moment he'd offered to assist her in finding Valentine. She should have seen back then that he had no interest in finding Valentine with her. He had come along just so he could be with her and deep inside she knew that he was hoping the worst about Valentine.
She couldn't imagine how Venturi would react when she did find Valentine. She'd never had two men arguing over her, but it was beginning to seem inevitable. Venturi wanted her as his, and she couldn't send him away because she needed him to help her in the war. He was supposed to be there at the final fight that she had seen in her vision. Regardless of the way that he made her feel, she had to keep him on her side.
Leaving him here was the best thing she could do for now.
She would say no goodbyes to Mathias and Venturi.
The moment the sun set tomorrow, she would leave for Paris.
Chapter 7
Prophecy crept through the dark building, listening for any sound that would tell her that Venturi or Mathias were stirring. She wondered if this was how Valentine had felt when he'd been trying to sneak away from her shortly after they'd first met. She was full of fear and trepidation. Her nerves were alight with it. Every tiny noise she heard made her jump. She'd even stilled her breathing so she made absolutely no sound at all.
She gave a sideward glance to the living room when she passed it and her eyes widened when she saw Venturi dozing in the armchair. She stared at him for a moment, shaking off the feeling of guilt, and then continued towards the door.
Her plan was simple. She'd taken all of the money that had been in Valentine's jacket and put it in her pocket. In the bag, she carried a change of clothes for herself, Valentine's jacket and some clothes for him. She wasn't going to return without him and he was going to need something clean to wear when she found him.
She would to make her way to London by train and, from there, head to Paris. There had to be a train leaving London before midnight or Valentine wouldn't have left her at sunset. If there wasn't, she could wait all day until there was one. Once she was onboard, it wouldn't take long to cross the channel and get to Paris.
Opening the front door, she cocked her head and listened hard. Silence. She smiled and slipped out into the street. No one was going to catch her. By the time Venturi had realised she was gone, she would be halfway to London. Mathias would tell him it was best to remain and decipher the scroll. She knew that the old Aurorea wouldn't give Venturi the location of the Three.
She closed the door, waited a second and then ran up the street in the direction of the station.
* * * *
The streets of Paris weren't as dark or as ominous as she remembered them. The sky was clear, affording her glimpses of stars through the haze of the streetlights, and the pavement was dry. There was a very different feeling about the city on a mild night, and there was a very different feeling about her.
Prophecy felt so much more grown up and worldly as she marched through the alleyways towards the home of the Three. Last time she had been petrified but this time she wasn't at all scared. She could handle any situation if it meant she was one step closer to rescuing Valentine from Arkalus and Kalinor. She wasn't even frightened of running across the hunter, Caden. If he were still in Paris, it would be a wise move on his part to avoid meeting her. She still wanted revenge for what he'd done to her, even though Valentine had managed to punish him to a degree. The interruption by the werewolves had meant that her sense of satisfaction had been lessened. She'd wanted blood from the hunter as payment for drugging her and attempting to kill her, and she hadn't got it.
Turning down a wide alley, she extended her senses, trying to pick up on the scent or signature of the witches. She wondered how they managed to keep their power hidden from the outside world. The only time she felt any hint of their magic in the air was when she was inside their home. Was it possible to dampen something so no one could sense it was there? Elena's place was easy to sense at a distance once you knew it was there. Were the Three more powerful than Elena? In her heart, she knew they were. Was she more powerful than the necromancer?
She stopped short of the door and stared into the distance. If she were more powerful, it would explain the trace of fear that she'd seen in Elena's eyes. Prophecy didn't feel more powerful right now, but maybe when she learned to use her magic, she would be. Something inside her said she was going to need to be as powerful as possible if she was going to fulfil her destiny and save the world from destruction.
She knocked on the icy cold door, her eyes remaining locked on the distance and her thoughts still running along the same line as they had been. Was what she'd been shown in her vision of Budapest what she thought it was? If it was, then it would be the key to strengthening her magic and herself, and might provide her with the necessary skills to fulfil the prophecy.
The door creaked open.
"We've been expecting you,” the short witch said.
"I know you have,” she replied in a measured tone and followed her in without hesitation.
Walking up the stairs, she kept her eyes fixed on the pale blue light at the top. It felt so different being back. Her guard had gone up the moment she'd entered and she was cautious now. Before, she had been fearful but reliant on Valentine to protect her and watch out for danger.
"Where is the boy?” the young witch asked as she came forwards, moving past the fire.
Prophecy paused and then sighed.
"I see,” the tall witch said and shook her head. “You will find him again."
"Your paths are entwined,” the short witch spoke.
"Now and forever.” The youngest one smiled.
"I know. He is destined to be at my side during the final battle just as the others are, but it doesn't mean that what happens in between doesn't hurt me.” Prophecy sat down on the small icy bench near the wall and stared at the blue fire, her eyes following the flames as they danced and leapt high into the air, almost reaching the ceiling.
The youngest witch placed her hand on Prophecy's shoulder. Prophecy smiled at her, telling her that the show of concern was appreciated but she would be all right. All she had to do was find Valentine.
"What is in Budapest?” she said and the witches looked at each other.
"Your power grows,” the tallest witch said.
"We are impressed.” The short one nodded.
"To see so much improvement."
She remembered the way they always spoke as one, as though they shared one consciousness.
"So what is there that I have to retrieve? I saw it in my vision and I saw other things too."
"There is a book,” the tall witch said.
"A book that we promised to find you,” the short witch continued.
"That book which was your mother's."
"I thought so,” Prophecy said.
"What else did the vision show you?” The tall witch wat
ched her closely.
"It seems to trouble you.” The short witch moved towards her.
"We can see it in your eyes.” The youngest one came to stand beside her.
Prophecy looked at all of them and then sighed again.
"The magic, it showed me more than just a vision. I needed to know that Valentine was safe and it attempted to show me it. I think it placed me within him somehow. I don't know how...” She frowned and tried to think of a way to explain to them what she'd felt and seen. “You said the magic is strongest when my heart fears."
"Your heart fears.” The tall witch held out her hand.
"For Valentine.” The short witch extended her hand also.
"For your love.” The youngest one smiled at her and followed the others in holding her hand out.
Prophecy held her own hand out, turning her palm upwards so they could see the stone. It was glowing red again.
"In your heart."
"There is a bond."
"One that the magic has created."
"Is it in his heart too?” She watched the stone as the witches placed their hands above it. It glowed brightly and the power was drawn through her body.
"It is.” The tall witch withdrew her hand.
"That is why you can see him."
"But the bond is young.” The young witch's hand dropped away.
"In time the bond will strengthen."
"But you will have already found another way,” the short witch said.
"To bind your hearts and souls."
Prophecy took her hand away and stared into the depths of the red stone. “But this reaction. This is because of my feelings for Valentine? When he is in danger, the magic comes quickest and strongest. My heart fears losing him."
Standing up, she walked around the room, trying to clear her head and gather her thoughts.
"So much has happened since our last meeting. I suppose you must know some of it. In fact, I'm certain you do.” Prophecy looked at the witches and they nodded. “I thought so. I've seen my mother inside the heart of the stone. I've fought a battle that I shouldn't have. I've lost Valentine. Elena took him because Arkalus and Kalinor made her do it. Now I don't know where he is."
