by A. R. Miller
A brick falls, icy pain erupts and another brick falls then another. The vice of his arms and legs unyielding, holding me taut against hot, living flesh.
Control. You must learn control. If you do not embrace it, do not take the power, it will destroy you. The words ring in my head as I slam a brick into place. I don’t want this power, or the euphoric greed I felt in my dreams. Another brick in place.
A grey and grizzled hand pries it away and grabs my wrist. I scream. Every muscle seizes. Never had they actually touched me, this is a completely new version of hel. All the bricks begin to tumble and I scramble back, joyous cries filling my head as the dead slink forward. In my thrashing fit, my head connects with someone, or something and blackness descends in a pain–filled rush.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Someone stands beside me picking up the bricks, putting them in my hands. Forcing my hands to the tumbled mess, showing me how to place them correctly. The hands are long and elegant, not meant for a bricklayer. When they touch mine, I see a similarity in coloring and a jolt runs through me. Attraction? Recognition? Static electricity? I know this person, this man. My safety net from childhood, the one I told my deepest secrets, the one I ran to when things didn’t go my way. No matter how much I want to, I can’t make out his features, a shadowy blur. I squint, trying to see past it, reach toward him, but he steps back into obscurity.
“She’s slept for almost twenty–four hours.”
“Should we try to wake her?”
“Do you want to see a repeat of what happened last time she woke up?”
“Not really. Wait, I think she’s coming around.”
The whispers cease and I feel their stares. This time I remember what happened and damn, does my head hurt.
“Who cracked me in the head?” My voice scratchy, strained, probably from all the screaming. Thank the heavens, I don’t have other tenants, or neighbors.
“How are you feeling?” asks Nyssa, her voice shaky.
“Like I’ve been hit with a truck. Sorry I scared you guys.”
“Hey, it’s not like you planned it.” Rey grasps my hand, gently rubbing the back of it.
“Not in this, or any other lifetime.” I give his hand a weak squeeze, gasping with each strained movement as I attempt to push myself into a sitting position.
“Want me to get you some water?”
I shake my head, wincing. “Coffee and some aspirin.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea considering—”
“Look Nys, I appreciate everything you guys have done, but I need a jolt of caffeine and something to take the edge off this headache.”
I can see her disapproval in the dim light as she looks at Rey and he nods.
“One small breakdown and you guys think you need to mother me.” I try to make my tone light, but with the amount of pain I’m in it comes out more like a complaint.
Nyssa lowers her head and turns to leave. “Be right back.”
“Nys, I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
“She’ll get over it, she’s...we’ve all been worried about you.”
“Where’s Dara?”
“Probably hiding in the basement. Think she’s a little pissed I kicked her out earlier.”
I nod seeing the faint line of light rimming the curtains. “About that, why’d you kick her out?”
His face twists in confusion. “You don’t remember?”
“I remember visions.”
He circles his hand in the air, urging me on, but I fear saying it out loud will cause it to happen again.
“Let’s leave it at they weren’t of sugar plum fairies.”
“That’s why I sent her out. She’s no sugar plum fairy. I thought maybe she was making things harder for you.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, head just hurts.”
“If it’s any consolation, so does my jaw.”
“Oh Rey, I’m sorry.” I should have seen it right away, the swollen, angry red and purple flesh is pretty hard to miss even in the dim lighting. Tells you how much these attacks have rattled me.
“Not a problem, after all I got to cuddle you again,” punctuated with a lurid eyebrow wiggle.
“Yeah, about that... Don’t suppose you, or anyone else has a clue what’s happening?” I have Einen’s words and the strange garble from The Sisters along with some very mixed signals from and about Var Royd. Then there’s Dara, or The First Arrow, gods know what that means, or how it affects me. I need to know who I can trust in my own little circle. Part of me wants to hightail it to Sioux City and Annya’s apartment, but the NTF would probably frown on that.
“Rey?”
His Adam’s apple rises and drops. I clutch his hand as he tries to pull away. He knows something.
“Are you afraid of me?”
He shakes his head and then turns toward me. “More like afraid for you.”
Slowly I let his hand drop from mine. Waves of fear sweep through the room, not all of it his.
A diminutive form at the door clears her throat before bringing me my drugs of choice. I toss the little white pills into my mouth before wrapping my hands around the steaming cup. The hot liquid jarring, tears spring up as it sears the roof of my mouth, washing the pills down an already ragged throat. Lowering the cup to my lap, I lean back and close my eyes.
No matter how much I’d love to ignore what happened, I can’t, but I’m sure not going to face it naked. Not as if everyone hasn’t seen what little I have to offer. Laughter turns to a moan as it shakes my abused body. I hold up a hand when they move toward me. There’s nothing they can do anyway.
“Are you okay?” asks Nyssa.
I nod; even though it’s evident, I’m not. On many levels.
“I need to get in the shower.”
Nyssa takes the cup from me and Rey leans in to help me from the bed. Gently, I rebuff his hands.
“Sorry, I know it seems silly after everything that’s happened.” For a second time I’m glad they’ve neglected the lights. My face is probably somewhere between strawberry blonde and fire red.
He takes off for another room, leaving Nyssa to tend to my delicate sensibilities. Leaving me relieved that any typical filthy comments are kept to himself, yet empty over his fear of me.
Using the sprite as a crutch, I make it to the bathroom and into the shower, praising the inventor of the little stool inside. There’s no way I can stand and taking a bath would take too long. I’d probably drown due to lack of muscle control.
The water feels delightful, rinsing away the scent of my bed partners and my own stench. Loosening the aches and pains of muscles I never knew I had. I don’t want it to stop, but hiding under a stream of slowly chilling water isn’t an option. Getting out is a little easier, but my skin is still overly sensitive to the fabrics of the fluffy towel and clothing Nyssa gathered.
Nyssa leads me to the couch and C.C. immediately wanders over. He tentatively paws at the couch until I pat the cushion beside me and he jumps up.
My stomach growls as Nyssa returns with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. “Thought you might be hungry.”
Food hadn’t registered on the scale of importance until the sight and scent hit me. Everything else is forgotten. I shovel fluffy, buttery goodness into my mouth, not caring how unladylike it looks.
C.C. watches intently. I offer him a bit of toast. He sniffs it then goes back to watching. Instead of an official taste tester, I have an official food sniffer. If he’d made that little scrunchy face, I’d know not to eat it, so it must be okay for me, just not enticing enough for him. The plate licked clean, Nyssa replaces it with a cup and I lift it to my nose reveling in the intoxicating aroma.
The light pounding on the door can only be Dara. Since when does she knock? Fear wriggles it’s ugly little self inside me as I remember how just the sight of her triggered my little mishap. The doorknob jiggles and I look
at Royd his brow wrinkling as he studies me.
“You can’t keep her out forever,” says Rey. “Eventually she’ll grow impatient and just come in. She didn’t mean to cause any harm, but she’s worried about you.”
I nod, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.
“Cold again?” he asks, moving to the edge of his chair.
I shake my head and drop my hands.
“Cat got your tongue?” A half–assed smile on his face as he wags a finger at C.C. “Give it back.”
“No, just nervous.” A poor attempt at a reassuring smile, but I try just the same.
He nods and Nyssa opens the door.
“Come join the party, Dara.”
A less than perfect Dara steps in. Ouch, did I do that to her? Nyssa and Rey looked tired and a little bedraggled, but Dara looks like she’s been run through the wringer.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, standing next to the door, fingers just inches from the knob.
Damn, if I answer wrong, she’s going to bolt. “I’m fine, but you look like shit.” I wrinkle my nose, and then punctuate it with a grin.
“Long night, day and night again.” Her smile strained as she stares at me, as if she can assess my health, mental, or otherwise with just a look.
“Don’t just stand there, you’re making me nervous.” I nod in Rey’s direction. “Like he said, come join the party.”
Her shoulders drop to a normal level and her smile widens, then fades as she perches on the arm of the couch.
“Well, now that the whole family is here, let’s get down to business,” says Rey, doing his best impression of Brando. Trust me. It sucks. He sounds more like one of the Muppets, the old geezers in the theater box, to be exact.
Nyssa rocks with laughter on the arm of his chair, planting a tiny fist against his shoulder.
“Ow,” he says, rubbing the offended spot, then pretends to glare at us. “Hey, she hits pretty hard for a teeny, tiny thing.”
Things are looking normal for the moment. Normal is exactly what I need right now, or as normal as this group can be. True to form, our little breather is blown all to hel when the downstairs buzzer sounds.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Dara punches the intercom button, “Yes?”
“Hello First Arrow, is Miss Fey available?” With that greeting, the owner of the voice can belong to only one person. Var Royd.
Nyssa frowns and Rey leans toward me. “What the hell did that mean?”
“You got me, but one of these days I’m going to find out.”
“You’ve heard it before? From him I take it?”
I nod, watching Dara’s barely controlled anger as she presses the button again.
“What do you want, Sun King?”
Whoa, that’s what The Sisters had called him. Obviously, Dara knows much more than she’s let on. Maybe Einen was right.
“I assume it is evident I wish to speak with Miss Fey.”
Now Rey jumps up and as Dara presses the button he says, “You know what they say about assuming things. It makes an ass out of you and me.”
It earns him a grin from Dara.
“Okay, enough with the taunting. Let’s see what he has to say.” I get up and move to the intercom. “What do you want, Mr. Royd?”
“It would be wiser to invite me in, Miss Fey.”
“Fine.” Ignoring the protests of my companions, I buzz him in and return to the couch.
He doesn’t even bother to knock, motioning for someone to wait in the hall as he steps into the room.
“It seems there was another attack last evening.” Royd’s eye contact and the unspoken message it holds is a little too much for me to handle right now.
“Let me guess.” I lay my head against the back of the couch, closing my eyes. “I’m the prime suspect.”
There’s no need to open them. I can feel my companions’ unspoken responses—tension and fear infused with outrage.
“But Keely was here all night, we know that.”
“Yes, my little nixie, but the NTF is not inclined to believe her friends.”
“You can verify it,” says Dara, something in her voice hints at things she knows, but has not shared.
Something to do with this whole Sun King, First Arrow bullshit, would be my guess. Which I’m going to figure out, it would just be easier if she shared.
“I only just arrived.”
“Yet your dogs have kept watch, reported to you.” Dara’s tone dangerously soft, something I recognize, but I’m not sure Royd will.
I open my eyes and wish I’d kept them closed. Dara’s freakishly catlike eyes narrow as she stares him down. The tiny slit of their pupils quickly expand nearly blotting golden irises, very much like C.C. before he pounces on unsuspecting prey. I swear that if she had a tail, it’d be twitching.
Royd either doesn’t notice, or chooses not to. His tone laced with cruel coyness. “There are also reporters and others watching, First Arrow.”
Her hands ball into white knuckled fists and lips twist, baring her fangs in all their pointy glory.
Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is to provoke a vamp? Geez, does all that money make him think he’s impervious, or is he just stupid?
“Enough.” I jump between them, a hand held out in either direction. “I’m not in the mood for a pissing match.”
Something between a hiss and growl emanates from Dara’s direction and Royd’s grin widens.
“I said enough!”
Everyone pulls back as I look at them. Fear and confusion bitch slaps me and my vision darkens. Dara slowly backs away from me. Rey and Nyssa slink in behind her, eyeing the door. I know I don’t get mad very often, but I don’t think it’s that terrifying.
Royd’s expression is neutral, almost blasé. “Reign in your anger, Schattenkind.”
His tone only adds to my frustration. My skin becomes a unitard several sizes too small, squeezing painfully. With the lack of circulation comes an incessant itch, like a bad case of psoriasis that you want to scratch. To hel with scratch. You want to shred the offending virus from your skin.
“Schattenkind.” His tone is soft, but the grasp on my wrists, not so much.
He hides it well, but I can see agitation through the cracks in his calm veneer. I can also see the bloody trails my nails left along my arms, but they still itch and I fight his hold.
“Control them.”
“Who?”
“The shadows, Schattenkind.”
All the heat drains from my body and my teeth begin to chatter as I look around the room. Shadows stretch from every corner, sliding across the floor and walls converging on the huddled group of my friends.
“How? I’m not doing this.”
“Yes, you are. Now disperse them.”
I hear the door open, unable to see it behind the curtain of darkness. A blinding spot of light appears in the shadowy cage containing the others.
“Milord,” yells Brand.
The shadowy film that coats everything writhes with a life of its own, deepening to near pitch black. Licking my lips I take a jagged breath and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing the shadows away. No such luck, the once blinding light, now no brighter than a child’s nightlight, the only sign they are still there.
“I can’t. I don’t know how.”
Royd drops my hands pushing me toward a chair as he turns. “Cover your eyes,” he says over his shoulder.
I drop my chin to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, bringing my hands up to cover them. The weight of yet another failure pushes me further into the chair.
The warmth of a roaring fire in winter. The heat of a summer day. The melting force of a blowtorch. The pain of, this is what it must feel like in the center of the sun. Light builds behind my covered eyes matching the intensity of the heat, until spots dance across the lids. Huddling in on myself, I want to scream, or stop, drop and roll, maybe both. Coherent thought is not exactly high on the list of priorities. Neither is following directions. I
open my eyes and my jaw drops.
White–hot light fills the room, the receding shadows nearly dispersed. A floating sword bathed in a golden glow. Light and shadows refract against a body kneeling in front of the group. My ears ring with the fearful cry of a fox. A Nyssa–sized bubble of undulating water. Most shocking of all, there’s nothing to mark the place where Dara stood, except a few stray scraps of flaming cloth. Dara. She can’t take this kind of light. Oh gods, I’ve killed her!
Ears ringing, I can’t hear myself think let alone scream, but Royd looks back at me. His eyes two radiant orbs, mini suns set in a blazingly beautiful face. “I told you to cover your eyes!”
“Dara!” I point to what’s left.
I just sit there, mouth hanging open as he turns away.
The shadows have receded back into the corners of the room, smoking wisps of darkness. The light dims back to a normal 60–watt level, and Royd is shaking me until my brains rattle.
“I told you to cover your eyes, you little fool.” The concern on his face more than his harsh words brings me out of my stupor.
“Sorry,” I mutter, lame, but I can’t come up with anything better. He pulls me into his embrace. I shiver as his breath blows the hair away from my ear.
“Do you not know it is dangerous to look into the sun?”
I pull back a little—okay, a lot—confused. He laughs, hugging me once more before turning to the others.
“What was that?” Nyssa stands in a puddle of water. I swear the fox is laughing as he looks at it, if Rey were in human form potty jokes would abound. I hope she has the forethought to come up with some rebounds about the stench of burning fur.
The walking shield turns out to be that cool taste of winter I’d sampled outside Atramentous. His animosity toward me downright chilling.
Brand has sheathed his sword, something I’m personally grateful for, considering the intensity of the anger I feel directed at me.
His Shield will protect and his Sword will cut. A shiver rides along my spine.
“I see everyone survived virtually unscathed.”
