She was wary at first, but her throat was dry and pained and her thirst overtook her. She eschewed the glass to simply drink from the larger jug, consuming most of it in one long drink. She placed the container back on the stand and took several deep breaths. She began rubbing the tips of her fingers anxiously.
Then she heard a door open and she saw a man in a long white trench coat and black slacks, with white gloves on his hand that reached past his elbow. He walked over to her and they looked at each other silently for a time.
Then he smiled and bowed, one hand upon his chest and the other extended. He looked up and said, “A pleasure to meet you, Leda. My name is Alistair Quill.”
This was the man who had saved her. Her future master.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leda learned many things that night. Some gave her a new understanding of herself and of her life, others still haunted her to this day.
She learned that the monsters that attacked her were of her own creation. They were wrought from the very powers she could not control. Alistair told her she was unique; she had summoned these creatures from something called Quintessence.
He told her that she was a Cabalist, but that he could not fathom how she was able to control such power. Few people could manipulate Ether by will, much less Quintessence. That was what drew him to her in the first place; he could visually see and harness this energy, but not mold it like she could.
She asked how he had heard of her, and he mentioned that he was a colleague of her father, which caused her to realize that she did not know what became of them after the monsters appeared. He told her with little compassion that the creatures had killed them.
She felt sick, bile rising to her throat as she began to shake. He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I know that this is a lot to take in. However, do not put this on yourself. It is not your fault that no one could properly guide you and help you control your abilities. That is why I have come. When I was made aware of what you are, I could see that I might have the means to assist you. Then, perhaps, you could help me.” He held up a small, ornate box and handed it to her.
She was still disoriented but she gingerly took the box and opened it. Inside was a necklace like a carnival mask cast in silver, with eyes bejeweled blue and a hollow smile. It was unnerving, reminding her of the expression the snakelike beings wore as they attacked.
“This is a focus. I’m sure your parents gave you one at some point to help try and regulate you. I am going to guess they made the mistake of thinking it was your Ether that was causing you such distress. They were wrong, obviously, but I cannot really call them fools. For someone so young to wield Quintessence and not fall under its sway is truly remarkable,” he revealed.
He took the necklace from the box and held it up. It moved like a pendulum, almost as if it was trying to hypnotize her.
“I came here to find you, Leda; and I succeeded at a fortunate time it would seem. However, I will not force you to do anything from here on. I have no use for puppets. Dealing with the manikins of this world is enough to exhaust me. So it is up to you to make your choice here,” he proposed as he swung the necklace up and caught it. “This focus was created specifically for those who, like yourself, control Quintessence. It is quite a rare little bauble.”
Leda could anticipate what he was going to offer. After saying that the choice was in her hands, he was going to persuade her into doing something for him in exchange for that special focus. She would refuse; she was not going to be controlled. She had few options now and nowhere to go, but there was always one last choice.
Then, she saw him take the chain of the necklace in his hands and unclasp it. He placed it around her neck and fastened it, withdrawing his hands. All at once Leda felt at peace. It was a foreign, almost forgotten, feeling; she no longer felt the draining, haunted pulse of the power within her. She wasn’t hearing the vile echoes in the back of her mind directing her mood and thoughts. She looked up at him with confusion. Was he simply giving her a taste so that he could take it from her unless she abided by his wishes?
Alistair simply met her gaze and said, “Though it is rare, I have no need of it right now. Take it. Whatever you choose, at least you have a better shot at not creating anymore jackals, spawn, and doppels that will turn against you, among other things.”
Leda was baffled. She was free, just like that?
“What are you trying to get out of me?” she asked, her voice still dry, “Why did you save me?”
“I suppose I cannot just say I am simply a nice fellow, can I?” he conceded. “I have been traveling the world for the last few years looking for others like you and I, Leda. Those who can use the quint without losing themselves, who actually flourish under its power.”
“If you truly know my past, then you know I haven’t flourished under it,” she denounced.
“I know of your pain, Leda. Because you could not control it, you had to live in solitude, not trusting yourself around others. Questioning if you even had a chance at life?” he inquired.
Leda looked down, the lonely memories playing in her mind like a montage. “If anything, I despise it. You seem to think it’s a gift; I don’t think we will see eye to eye on this. It has cost me so much and now my…my parents are gone because of it. What do you think I have to gain from it? The only thing I learned today is what to call it. At least I have a name for my burden.”
“It does not have to be one, Leda. I may not be able to control it like you do, but I also use this power.”
Alistair pointed to one of the paintings on the wall. He moved his hand back and forth and Leda watched in shock as with each wave of his hand the painting partially disappeared. After one motion, the bottom of the frame was gone, a second, the middle, and finally the top.
“Wonderful, is it not.” he asked. It was a statement rather than a question.
“It…it is actually rather frightening,” Leda stammered.
“Perhaps to some. It did wonders for you when I dealt with the Cimmerians, those little monsters of yours,” he added, “I can help you use your abilities. You will no longer fear them, but rather desire them. What I ask for in return is that you help me obtain a certain item.”
Leda thought for a moment. She doubted she would ever desire her powers at this point but she could at least subdue them. This stranger made it sound so simple and so promising.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“An artifact, one that would allow me to fix many things wrong in this world. Should we find it, I can also promise you this: I can make it so that these horrors you have had throughout your life will disappear,” he proposed, extending a hand to help her out of the bed. “I shall tell you more, show you more, if you agree.”
Leda slowly took his hand and left the bed. She knew she was still in the dark, but for once she felt hopeful. Perhaps this man could help her, and if this artifact could help her in any form, then she would take the risks.
That was her last night in Ireland.
That all happened over two years ago. Much had changed since then. Her relationship with Alistair had become one of master and student. He had taught her discipline that allowed her to keep her emotions, and thus her powers, from becoming erratic. Then he helped her find out how to summon Cimmerians and control them.
She felt disgust at first that she had to use flesh, blood, and bone as an anchor to have the creatures achieve a realized state. She initially left them in a pseudo form, tangible but weak. But as time moved on and Alistair told her more of his quest and the prize that awaited them, she understood that sacrifices were not wrong; not if they brought them closer to their goal.
She looked back at the cube and made her decision. She knew that there was one potential beast in her arsenal that could strike down Raines’ son. He was more formidable with the sword than she had anticipated, and time would only strengthen the bond. She would have to act fast. He will die tonight, and
I will prove to my master that I am worth his trust.
She had no time to find a sacrifice. She would need a specific target and multiple reagents to realize this creature under normal circumstances, even with the rich amount of Quintessence Alistair had given her. There was one way around this: she could use herself as the anchor and bind it to her. This would empower her creation, and make the kill that much easier. However, it would leave her vulnerable and should the creature die…
No, she would not worry. She would not doubt herself now.
She placed the cube on the floor and crushed it under her heel. She could see the dark mist rising. She folded her hands together and closed her eyes she envisioned the creature: its body gray and skeletal, faceless, markings etched into its flesh. It was phantom and yet throbbed with unnatural life.
A revenant.
She pieced it together. Using the Quintessence that surrounded her, she molded it as if it were a clay figure. The abstract force became real in her hands; with her power she gave it meaning. She formed the visage of the revenant and placed her hand upon the construct. Silently she endowed it with life—her life—and gave it one order.
Kill Sylas Chevalier.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sylas closed the door behind him, then slung the pack off his shoulders and set it next to the fireplace. He turned on a few lights and started a fire before lying on the couch and closing his eyes. He had just walked back from Umbra with Roux and Izzy. They had discussed the potential future set out before them, and where he fit into it all. He knew he was in it for the short term at least. Finding the people who attacked his father and dealing with them was his priority. After that, he had to see.
He was happy that he wasn’t going at this alone. Having Bobo with him was reassuring. His godfather was an important presence in his life, and, considering he apparently spent the better part of his life as a skull-crushing boogeyman killer, he was certain to be helpful. Roux as well, though he had to admit, the jokey redhead didn’t seem the cloak-and-dagger type, though it might explain why he avoided the sun like they had a blood feud.
Then there was the newest member in his little menagerie of merry psychos—Izzy. She was certainly interesting, and had been a great help so far. Her relationship with his father piqued his interest. He wondered if he could get some more stories out of her. On one hand, he wanted to know more about the lifestyle and responsibilities of a member of this Twixt organization. On the other, he wished to know more about what his father was hiding from him. If everything were to be believed so far, Sylas might have done more harm than good if left ignorant. It wasn’t like his pops to be so thoughtless. Careless, maybe, but he wasn’t a fool.
He opened his eyes and realized it was rather dark, even for it being past midnight. He lazily rolled over and noticed the lights weren’t on. Odd. He walked over to the light switches and flipped them up and down, but nothing happened. He felt a chill and looked over to the fireplace. The flames were shrinking as if someone were slowly turning off the valve.
He opened his hand and in a white flash, Sevanouir was in his grasp. He unsheathed the blade and walked towards the rear window in the living room. No light from star or moon was coming through it. He peered out and saw nothing; the trees that should have been there and the mountains that should have been visible in the distance were gone. There was just a dark horizon that went on endlessly.
The fire went out, and Sylas moved to the front door and opened it. The porch was there but the walkway was cut off after a few feet by the same dark void he saw through his window. He stared at it for a moment before grimacing and going to it. He stopped at the edge of the walkway and lifted the sword. The darkness seemed to swallow most of his blade, but when he pulled it back, it was unscathed.
Sylas recalled Izzy saying the building his father had been trapped inside was enclosed by some sort of black dome; he wondered if this was the same thing. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, and contemplated if he should attempt to run through it. He figured it wasn’t that simple, but what could go wrong? Many things that he could possibly not fathom, but he shrugged and decided to deal himself in anyhow. He sheathed his saber and strapped it to his back, then, taking a deep breath, launched himself through the abyss.
He crashed into something after only a few steps. Falling to the ground, he landed with a grunt and gazed up. He was looking at his porch; he had run into the railings. The void had just turned him around when he attempted to go through it. He was trapped for now, at least until Izzy or Roux could get to him.
Assuming they could do anything about it at all.
---
“Well, this is most definitely a problem,” Roux sighed worriedly, looking at the dome that surrounded Sylas’ home. “We were having such a nice walk before Sylas was sucked into nothingness.”
“Now isn’t the time to be quippy. Call Bo and get him over here,” Izzy commanded as she began walking around the perimeter of the enveloping darkness.
“Can you see him?” Roux asked as her took out his phone. “You know, with your glasses?”
“No, Ibis can see a person’s Ether through illusions and solid objects, but this is some sort of cage made of Quintessence. It’s basically a blindfold.”
“No pun intended?” Roux inquired nonchalantly as Bobo picked up, “Hey, Bo, get over to Sylas’ place. Someone put up some sort of gothic carnival top and we can’t get to him. Uh huh, I’ll tell her.” He ended the call and put his phone away, “Bo says he’s coming over as quick as he can, and to use your purple voodoo to just grab his ass out of there.”
“It’s not that easy, you smug bastard! If I can’t see him, how am I supposed to get him? Also, I can’t just start ripping holes in this,” she answered heatedly.
“Why not?” Roux asked, annoyed. His cool exterior falling away slightly. “Are you afraid you’re going to ruin the exquisite symmetry?”
“Because it can just repair itself. I saw one of these the day Raines and I were attacked. I tried cutting through it but it would just repair any damage I did, or wouldn’t be affected at all,” she explained.
“You got through eventually, right?” Roux argued.
“Yes, I did, but to do so I had to find a weak point. It seems like whoever made this can’t maintain it fully. Most of it may be made of Quintessence, but other parts are just illusionary so that it seems like there is no way out.”
“I see,” Roux muttered. Manipulirn appeared on his arm as he cast strings onto a branch high above them. He lifted himself up and landed gracefully on the branch before wrapping Izzy up.
“Wait, what are you…” Izzy’s words got caught in her throat as she was whisked up into the tree to land one branch lower than Roux. She arrived with a heavy thump and looked up at Roux with annoyance etched on her face.
“I get why you did that, but a heads-up would have been nice,” she muttered.
“I’m more of an actions guy myself, you should know this by now,” Roux countered with a smile. “Now, look and see if we can’t get our stab-happy friend out of the dome of darkness, yeah?”
---
Sylas reentered the house, Sevanouir at the ready, as he attempted to find the cause of the darkness outside. He walked through the halls, checking each room as he went along. So far, nothing. He wondered if the person who had created the barrier was somewhere within, or if they were hiding behind it and trying to keep him trapped inside. If that was the case, then what were they keeping him there for?
A small crash sounded from a distance in front him. Sylas ran to the guestroom and kicked in the door. No one was there.
He walked over to the far side of the bed and saw that a porcelain figurine of a dancer had fallen from the nightstand. Sylas grew wary. Unless that void was somehow granting inanimate objects life, which was actually not too farfetched to believe at the moment, something had knocked the figurine down.
He left the room and continued on to the last place to check—the studio. He op
ened the double doors and looked around the barren room. There were three walls made of glass and a lone easel in the middle; everything else had been moved to storage. He saw no one. Had he missed something? Was the person who had trapped him here simply hoping that he would grow bored and give up?
Then he noticed something. Some of the dust on the floor had drifted up slightly, as if someone or something was moving along the floor. He felt an unnerving chill along his spine, the same unease as when he first faced the doppel. He followed his instincts and threw himself to the ground, rolling as he heard the loud cracking of wood. He stood and saw that the wall that was previously behind him had been ravaged. Two long cuts slashed into it and along the floor; something was here and he could not see it.
Again, the feeling of dread overwhelmed him and he leapt to the side, but something collided with him and he tumbled to the ground. He quickly got up and moved back. He felt an intense pain below his ribs. He looked down and saw that he had been cut deeply; blood flowed down his stomach and thigh as he steadied himself. Sevanouir began to glow slightly with the white light of his Ether. Sylas focused on his blade to make the light shining brighter, and then he could see it. A figure was illuminated, but it had no tangible form.
The light seemed to contort around the being’s body, but no features were present. It appeared to Sylas to be humanoid, but where its hands were supposed to be, it instead had long, curved appendages like the blade of a scythe.
The creature attacked, dashing to him in a frenzy. The light from Sevanouir faded as Sylas prepared to defend himself. He dodged one of its lethal blows and attempted to slice through the being, but his blade connected with nothing. Sylas lit up the room again and saw the creature had disappeared.
He cautiously moved forward, waiting for the creature to attack again. He began to wonder if this might actually be his last night alive. Whatever this creature was, it was unlike the doppel. At least the doppel had a physical form he could attack, and back then Izzy and Roux where there to guide him. Yet despite his worries, he could feel a thrill coursing through him. He stopped in the middle of the room, letting the light from Sevanouir fade out.
Sevanouir: Rebirth (The Strange Tales of the Malefic Book 1) Page 8
