Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet)

by A. M. Hodgson

  I wanted to run, but my legs refused, remaining motionless in the bed. I wanted to scream, but my voice was lost to me. I felt a tear roll down one of my cheeks. I was trapped, helpless.

  The creature entered the room, sliding its lanky body through the window frame, gliding into the light.

  It was hideous. Leathery gray skin stretched over an emaciated body. Its eyes were a bright yellow, huge and round and open widely. Its pupils were large and dark, and the whites were not white— instead a sickly jaundiced color. I could see the ribs, defined enough that I could count them as they stuck out from the gaunt frame. They hung from the creature’s spine like a coat. Below the jutting ribcage sat a round, fat, distended belly. It had a long, thin, hooked nose. Its mouth was still wide and grinning with many teeth all filed into sharp points. A few straggly strands of greasy white hair hung off its skull. It was floating towards me, the feet hanging limply in giant bird-like claws.

  My heart thundered in my ears.

  The monster was right next to the bed now. Its head tilted ever-so-slowly as it watched me, the maniacal grin plastered on its face. The clawed hands made a small gesture over the comforter. The blankets unfurled, sliding down to my hips, exposing me.

  It leaned forward until it was practically on top of me, an inch from my face. My stomach writhed as I breathed— the creature smelled like a rotting carcass. It dipped its head near my hair and inhaled, sniffing me.

  I tried to move again, but my body was unresponsive. I was paralyzed— either by fear or some dark magic. I didn’t know which.

  The fiend lifted a ragged finger and slowly brought it down to my forehead.

  Please scream, I thought to myself, please scream. I inhaled sharply but couldn’t coax a sound more substantial than a soft whine. The grin broadened as it dragged the sharp talon across my forehead. My heart felt like it was catching in my throat. The pain was excruciating.

  I felt the warm trickle of my blood sliding down the sides of my face. The creature looked pleased with itself. It opened its broad, grinning mouth, and a long, grotesque purple tongue slid out and lapped at the blood.

  I sobbed, but the sound was stifled, weak. The tongue was as harsh and gritty as sandpaper against my skin. I could feel it ripping off small sections of flesh around the cut. A hot tear trailed down from the corner of my eye to meet with the sticky blood on the side of my face.

  I was sure I was going to die.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the rough dragging of the tongue against my skin.

  There was a loud pounding of footsteps in the hall, and a solid thump slamming into the wood of the door. I opened my eyes, wrenching my gaze to this new threat. I would’ve cried out in relief if I’d had a voice to do so.

  Glenn.

  He had an arrow notched already, letting it fly into the creature’s shoulder. It let out a guttural hiss and lunged over the bed at him. It was too slow. While it managed to crest the length of the bed, a second arrow was lodged in its eye before it reached my guard.

  I felt myself trembling. The blood still poured from the cut in my forehead, dripping into my eyes. I took a deep, ragged breath and tried to thank my rescuer, to say anything, but I couldn’t move. I was still paralyzed aside from my eyes.

  Glenn was at the side of the bed in no time. He kicked the body of the monster away and sat next to me. There was a small vial in his hands, and he looked into my eyes. His voice was gentle, “This will let you move again, but it hurts. It hurts a lot, do you understand?”

  I moved my eyes up and down. No matter how much it hurt, it had to be better than feeling trapped inside my own skin.

  He uncorked the bottle and held it beneath my nose. “Take a couple deep breaths, if you can.”

  I inhaled, trying my best to keep the breath slow and even. A pungent, spiced smell invaded my nostrils. It was like fire spreading down my windpipe and bleeding into every nerve. I twitched involuntarily, my back arching up cruelly, and I cried out— a terrified, strangled screech.

  My legs burned and kicked. My muscles felt like they’d been dipped into acid. My toes curled, trying futilely to escape a fire that wasn’t there.

  I don’t know how long it lasted— maybe a few seconds, maybe an hour. After a while, I began to notice that there was steady pressure on my wrists. Glenn was holding me down so I couldn’t throw myself from the bed.

  When I stopped thrashing, he withdrew.

  The heat and sharpness of the pain began to fade, replaced with a hollow ache in my whole body. I could move again, but I was slow, pained. I brought my hand to my forehead in a daze.

  The cut still oozed blood. I wondered why it hadn’t clotted yet, why I wasn’t dealing with brushing away the crusted, dried remains. The wound felt ragged under my searching fingers. My flesh had been torn unevenly by the creature’s tongue.

  “Wha-wha-what?” I stuttered out with effort. I was relieved I’d found my voice at last.

  Glenn gently pulled my hand from my ruined forehead, dabbing a greasy ointment on the cut. “Shh,” he chided, “you should rest. It’ll be better in the morning.”

  Tears slid down my face. I sobbed, shaking my head. The idea of sleeping, in this bed, with that creature’s body next to me, was impossible.

  The blood running down my face slowed, then stopped. I pushed myself so I was sitting up.

  Glenn’s eyes narrowed, “You need to sleep.”

  “I can’t,” I gasped. “I can’t! I don’t even—” I threw myself forward, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug. I quaked as I cried. His body went rigid, tight. His hands remained at his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with me or himself at the moment.

  After a few seconds, he awkwardly wrapped his arms around me. He stroked my back, whispering, “Shh… you’re safe. It’s gone now.”

  “What was that?” I sobbed.

  He sighed, still carefully rubbing my back, brushing my hair. “It was a blood wraith. But it’s dead now.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face into his chest, into the grassy green tunic he wore. It was rougher than I’d expected it to be, but it was nice to feel safe, to feel sheltered.

  “You’re going to be sore for about a day,” he explained carefully, “but then you’ll be fine. Unfortunately, you were hit with its magic and its venom, both.”

  I looked at his face, my eyes wet with tears. Glenn appeared gentle, but a bit regretful.

  He stroked one thumb along my cheek, pulling small hairs from the coagulating blood on my face. “The magic is what you felt first. Why you couldn’t move. They’re actually pretty weak, so that’s how they hunt. The target is paralyzed, so it can… feed.”

  It felt like I’d swallowed a handful of needles. My insides turned sharp and aching.

  “The venom prevents clotting, so the blood will flow, and it can drink its fill.” He shook his head, “Yet wraiths like that must be summoned if they aren’t within the Shadowlands. This was a deliberate attack, not a coincidence.”

  “Why?” I asked shrilly, “Why would anyone attack me?”

  Glenn sighed, his eyes dark and pensive. He didn’t answer for a long time, just held me lightly in his looped arms, his mouth a tight line. His eyes lingered on the ruined window. “I’ve been trying to figure that out,” he admitted, “and I just don’t know.”

  He tried to pull away, but I clung to him. I wasn’t willing to part. It felt like my life depended on him.

  “You can’t leave me again,” I mumbled. “You can’t go…”

  “I went outside because I… heard… something. I assumed it was nothing, yet I still investigated. It was a diversion tactic, to keep me from the real threat. I’m sorry,” he said. “I can only promise you that I’ll do what I can to keep you alive.” He sighed, looking uneasy.

  I shuddered, curling my legs up, practically sitting on top of him. He didn’t try to move me again, recognizing that I was in too much shock. He let me stay like that until I fell asleep.
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  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  When I awoke, the body was gone, and the blood was cleaned from my face and bed sheets. My muscles still ached, though less acutely than they had last night. My hand flew up to my forehead. The only evidence that it hadn’t been a horrific dream was the hard scab above my eyebrows.

  I wrenched myself from the bed, forcing my aching muscles to move towards the bathroom. I panicked when I realized Glenn wasn’t in his nook. Despite the flood of daylight inside the room, I felt incredibly unsettled without him. The attack last night had frayed my nerves. I swept my gaze around the room, searching for him. The tension left my body— he was just settled on the window seat rather than his usual spot.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked.

  I shrugged. There wasn’t anything positive I could say, aside from, “Alive. Thanks to you.”

  I was terrified by the attack, mostly because of the implications. Someone wanted me dead.

  “I needed to make sure the window was secure over the night. I’ve arranged for it to be repaired today,” he explained.

  “Thank you…” I said again awkwardly. In the harsher light of day, it felt inappropriate that I’d clung to him through the night. I hoped he would be too polite to mention it.

  “It’s what I’m here for,” he said bluntly. He gestured to my hairline and said, “You’ll want to shower. I did the best I could, but there was a lot of blood. Head wounds bleed a lot anyway, but with the poison in your system, you lost a lot more than I’d have liked.” He gripped his bow tightly, staring at the floor. The attack had unnerved him as well.

  “I just wish I knew who would want to do something like this,” I said, biting my lip.

  Glenn ran a finger along the hardened globs of glass around the window frame. “One thing I knew before taking this job—” he paused, his brows furrowing. A look of conflict crossed his features, as though he didn’t like what he had to tell me. “There’s more than one group unhappy about a siren reappearing after all these years.”

  “Why?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, “I’m not a threat.”

  Glenn shrugged, “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe it’s power, maybe it’s old enemies.” He glanced into my eyes, “What you should be asking yourself is how exactly the sirens died in the first place.”

  My back went rigid. He was right. In the time since I’d transitioned, I hadn’t bothered to wonder. Maybe it was because I’d already accepted the excuse that I was given— a plane crash— or maybe I was overwhelmed by the recent changes.

  I chewed my lip, considering it. Chances are, the question wasn’t what killed the sirens, but rather, who.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Marin was horrified to hear about the attack that morning, more so because it occurred under her own roof. “A blood wraith? I don’t like it.” She scowled, “They shouldn’t even be able to get in here. This is the property of the royal family. I should tell my father,” she said, her lips forming a tight frown.

  I sighed. “It isn’t your fault. Glenn says someone sent it here.”

  “Which is even worse,” she said. “This should be a safe place. It’s one thing if it was in the yard, but it actually made it into your room!” Her gaze landed on the warped globs of glass along the window frame. “That shouldn’t be able to happen. And if it was sent by someone, they’ve been close enough to touch you. A wraith needs something personal to hunt.”

  “Something personal?”

  “Like a lock of your hair, a finger nail clipping, an eyelash. Something distinctly yours. Even with those freaky eyes, they’re completely blind. Wraiths rely on smell to get a sense of their prey.”

  I shivered, remembering the creature next to me, breathing deeply.

  “I don’t like it,” Marin repeated.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  On the way home from school, I asked to visit Aldan’s library. We reached it in the late afternoon, and Glenn leaned against the stone as I ducked inside.

  When my eyes had adjusted to the light, Aldan snapped out, “You’ve already finished those books?!”

  I shook my head, “Actually… no, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he began scratching new notations into his massive book. “Then why are you bothering me?”

  I twisted my fingers together, trying to decide how to word it. I needed to know if the sirens were murdered, but the topic hadn’t been broached in the book he’d loaned me. “I just…” I started.

  “Spit it out, girl!” Aldan snapped. His eyes fell on me again, and he squinted, as if he was having a hard time making me out. His expression softened, “What happened to your face, siren?”

  My hand instinctively flew to my forehead, my fingertips finding the ragged edges of the long scab there. “I was attacked,” I said hollowly.

  He frowned tightly, making his ancient face look even more aged, if it was even possible. “By whom?”

  I shrugged, “I— I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to know— what happened to the sirens? How did they die off?”

  He sighed, gesturing for me to approach the desk. I stumbled forward, and he stared at the gash in my head again. “That’s a blood wraith wound,” he muttered. He shook his head, “I wish I knew more, but the truth is no one knows what happened to them. They just vanished approximately thirteen years ago.”

  “Vanished?” my brows furrowed, “There has to be an explanation—”

  Aldan shook his head. “The species stopped attending council meetings, and all contact broke off. The natural assumption was that they had died.” He paused for a moment, hesitating. “Normally I do not say things that are not proven facts, Sarah. You should know that about me. However, I feel it would be in your best interest to understand this: before the sirens disappeared, there were hearsay and rumors circulating regarding the species.”

  “What sort of rumors?” I asked, my stomach tightening.

  “If I recall correctly, one particularly nasty rumor was that the sirens were power-mad. It became a semi-widespread belief that the species were willing to do any depraved act to gain more council favor. There was talk about plans to kill other races, to annex territories in the Realm, and a superabundance of other unfounded, vicious rumors. Several races— and even more individual rogues— expressed a desire to remove them from the council. Despite their introversion, the sirens suffered prejudiced abuse against their people. Detailed reports were disclosed to the Council of Extraordinaries— men were mutilated, I believe. It wasn’t long after this unrest and savagery that the sirens vanished from the worlds.”

  A chill went down my spine.

  Aldan’s eyes were clear as he stared at me. “Of course, many suspected foul play. Others thought the sirens might have just withdrawn.” He snorted, “Unlikely. Less so, knowing you were abandoned during the same time frame.” His lips were thin as his gaze followed the line of the cut again. He looked deep into my eyes, “I recommend caution, young lady.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I stumbled from the library. The darkness of the outside world felt more threatening than before. Glenn gripped my shoulders when I almost fell, propping me against the stone as my eyes adjusted. I wondered if this would be the routine every time I saw my tutor.

  “Did you find what you needed?” he asked me when we started to walk back to Marin’s house.

  “Maybe,” I said, chewing on my lip.

  He didn’t press the issue. I headed straight to my room, flopping on the bed. I absently touched the ragged line on my forehead.

  Glenn smiled lopsidedly. “Does it hurt much?”

  I shrugged, “It’s a little painful. I’ll survive, I think.”

  “Let me put more balm on it. With the herbs in place, it’ll be gone completely after tonight.”

  I sighed, sitting up. Glenn methodically rubbed the ointment along the cut. I winced. It was still tender.

  “There’s a tiny bit of poison left. That’s why it’s sore to the touch.
As I said, after tonight, it won’t be a problem.” He pulled back.

  He wore a mixed expression that I couldn’t pinpoint. Regret, with just a hint of longing. But beneath that there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  I was tempted to ask him where his thoughts were, but bit my tongue. I felt guilty.

  From what I could read of his features, I’d determined that he regretted taking this assignment. I couldn’t blame him. In less than three days, I’d placed him in mortal danger. Glenn probably wished he was home, wherever that was.

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely. I hoped he knew how much I meant it. I grappled for his hand, but he pulled it away quickly.

  He turned from me. “I’m just doing my job, Sarah.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Will

  On Friday, as Mr McGregor told us to pull out our text books, a boy burst through the door.

  He was extremely handsome, with dark chestnut colored hair styled expertly, a black tailored coat, and some loose jeans in a dark wash. He carried his backpack in one hand— a guitar was slung over his shoulder. He fiddled with a small round object, flicking his eyes at it as he entered.

  He had an exceptionally attractive face with soft full lips, a perfect straight nose, and an appealing strong jaw. His eyes were a dull brown color, lacking sparkle, but were rimmed with dark, beautiful eyelashes— the kind most girls would kill to have.

  “I, uh,” he stuttered out, “I’m new here. Pretty sure I’m in this class,” he added, saying the last words to Mr McGregor.

  Our teacher nodded, “Yes, you are. You’re late.” Mr McGregor paused, “Well, tell the class a little about yourself, then.”

  I watched as the guys around me sized him up, the way they had with Glenn before. This new boy was a greater threat. Almost all of them squared their shoulders, puffing themselves up. The girls were already falling all over themselves to get his attention. A couple of the bolder ones even waved at him. Marin raised her brows at me suggestively, and I slid further down in my chair.