The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1)

by Kristy Nicolle

  I am startled by the news to say the least.

  Haedes… has a daughter?

  Another Demi-God?

  How could he have been so careless?

  These are the questions which flurry around my mind, making my unending rage for his entire family stir. Reckless, mindless, lust-filled man whores, and yet I’m not worthy?

  Oh no. Oh no, no.

  I mean, now I think about him and his brother Zeus, I’m surprised he hasn’t got a litter of little mongrel pyromancers running around, because according to rumour, he’s quite the philanderer, just like his older sibling.

  I take a few moments, waiting for the court to empty as I ponder on the implications of what Sephy Sinclair’s existence means. She lost her own parents in a fire started by her own childish hand. She has potentially a new parent who seemingly wants nothing to do with her…

  The cogs within my mind turn, whirring and grating against one another with timeless friction, as I think about how exactly I can use her to further my own goals.

  When the final member of the courtroom leaves and the last door slams shut, I step out from the shadows, smiling.

  This is good. I determine. I can use this. I can use her.

  It is with my new path clear ahead and my intentions crystalline in my mind that I reach for the box.

  Throwing it into the air, I step into the darkness of yet another whirring portal, heading back to the place I call home, intending fully to finally help the Demon Lords take back theirs.

  Chapter Ten

  Free Falling

  XION

  She is changed; slouching as she shuffles from the courthouse and into the gondola. Hunched in her seat and silent, she looks out over the Mortarian landscape which passes us in a silent and stagnant state. The earth turns from blackened to ruddy once more as we move through the land, the river never slowing in its constant ebb, and the gnarled outlines of charred trees become more and more consistent in their placement. Slowly, a canopy of red leaves forms overhead, crowding the sky from view and indicating our return to the depths of the Sanguine Forest.

  When we reach The Hollow, she doesn’t even hiss as I take the obsidian blade to her palm, drawing blood and paying the toll quickly so that we may return to the grounds of The Sinclair Estate.

  I don’t know how I’m going to teach her how to use her powers; I don’t even know the first thing about controlling The Eternal Flame. The only thing I really know is that it’s one of the only things in all the dimensions that can destroy me for good. So that’s comforting.

  We arrive outside the door of her suite, and she moves to enter it, no doubt with the intention of slamming it behind her and locking herself away.

  “Sephy, are you alright? I can… I could stay. You shouldn’t be by yourself,” I offer as my brow furrows, wanting to show her kindness, comfort her, but not used to having to comfort any kind of person, let alone a headstrong young woman.

  “No. Thank you for bringing me home, but no. I need to sleep on all of this. To try and process it all.” The lustrous fire in her voice has diminished considerably from what I’m used to, and her gaze is cloudy with emotion as she looks deeply into my eyes, brushing her hair behind one ear.

  I want to reach out, to tell her that I understand what she’s going through because I do understand what she’s going through, but I can’t find the words. Instead, I let her turn and shut the door in my face without so much as a goodbye, before continuing to stand outside for a few moments in the hallway like a spare part, miserable. She’s sassy and feisty up front, sometimes mean even, but it’s like she’s been stripped of that part of who she is and has returned to the state of the once naïve child I had rescued from the billowing flames all those years ago. She’s vulnerable, like a deer in the forest whose mother has just been shot, and it’s harrowing to behold, frightening even, to see such a regular powerhouse made visibly weak like this.

  Realising I’m just standing with no real purpose in front of a door that I don’t have the courage to open, I turn on the ball of my foot and take leisurely slow steps down the hallway. I’m half hoping she’ll change her mind, let me in so I can make sure she’s okay, but it doesn’t seem likely.

  I reach the landing, and find Jules making his way up the stairs with a silver tray atop one palm; it holds a bottle of whisky and a glass with a single ice cube, chill and solitary in its depths.

  “Did she ask you for that?” I ask him, and he shakes his head.

  “No, but I’m used to her needs by now. After going to that place I’m sure it’s necessary.” Jules looks me up and down, a slight disapproval in his stare.

  “She just found out that she was responsible for the death of her parents. I really don’t think adding alcohol to the situation is going to help,” I insist, and his eyes widen.

  “Wait… she was the cause of the fire?” He looks shocked as I nod, and his expression crumples, lips sagging and eyes losing their prim and proper focus. He shuffles in the confines of his suit, clearly not sure what to say.

  “Oh Jesus… okay, where is she?” He looks desperate now, like a father in his affections for her, and I jerk my head in the direction of her bedroom.

  “She said she wants to sleep it off… to process everything. I wanted to respect her wishes. It’s not easy to deal with that kind of information, let alone the fact she’s just discovered she’s a demi-god.” Jules’ expression turns partly surprised by this information, but I am getting the impression that it isn’t as big of a shock to him as the fact Sephy had started the fire all those years ago.

  “You knew,” I say under my breath with a deep exhale.

  “Of course I knew. Look at her. There’s not an ounce of Adam Sinclair anywhere in that girl…” he pauses. “Wait did you say she told you she was going to sleep? To process all this?” His expression becomes suddenly and ferociously panicked.

  “Yes, why?” I ask him as he drops the tray he’s holding with a clatter. In this moment in which he abandons all sense of duty, the tray slams into the floor, filling the chasmic hall with the echoes of rattling silver. The whisky bottle smashes at the impact as does the glass beside it, causing the green of the runner to darken, spirit exploding all over the floor.

  “She’s going to run.” He’s turning as his words reach me, and I wonder how he knows this as he begins to take off down the stairs.

  Then I realise. I should have known this.

  Sephy Sinclair doesn’t process anything. She doesn’t sleep on things. She acts. She runs. She denies.

  I take off after Jules, catching up to the butler in mere seconds as his light footfall makes quick work of the stairs.

  Across the lobby we dash, side by side, before slamming our full weight into the thick double front doors and bursting out into the night. Jules spins on the ball of his foot, skidding across the gravel artfully, and I’m instantly intrigued as to whether or not he’s even been in the armed forces. I don’t know many men who can move that well in a suit without training.

  We sprint along the length of the west wing, passing by the many windows which reflect only moonlight back as no light exudes from within. Turning the corner so we’re adjacent to the back of the estate, I see her outline, half way down the wall from her bathroom window; she’s using her bed sheets as a make shift rope.

  I roll my eyes as Jules and I slow together, waiting beneath her descending derriere for her feet to hit the ground.

  When they finally do, she exerts a grunt and turns, only to find me smiling and towering over her, looking down into her determined yet distraught face.

  “Aww crap,” she exclaims, running her fingers through her hair and looking left then right. Dark circles have appeared beneath her eyes, and her skin is paler than usual, pasted in a light sweat, which clings to her red hairline, tinting it dark.

  “If you think you can outrun me then I’ll just save you the energy. I have demonic speed. I’d catch you before you were even to the trees.” I threate
n her, though I don’t growl as I usually would.

  “Well, I was sort of hoping I would make it to the car before you noticed… or maybe even the airport.” She looks awkward now, twisting her fingers in front of her and licking her bottom lip, nervous for some reason. Am I that terrifying? She’s never seemed intimidated like this before.

  “Look, that won’t help. Trust me. I tried it.” I whisper to her, bending my head and coming in close, just in case she attempts to make a belated break for it. Jules coughs uncomfortably and makes his exit in the most discreet way he can manage.

  “What, you mean you killed your parents too?” She cocks an eyebrow at me in disbelief, and my expression drops into one of serious pain.

  “No. I killed the first and only girl I’ve ever loved.” I state the truth, even though it hurts me, even though after all this time, the guilt I feel won’t diminish and never will. I speak it for her so she can see she isn’t alone.

  She doesn’t reply; she just gets a pained look on her face as we stare at one another, neither one’s gaze diminishing in intensity and neither one of us able to move from a seemingly invisible emotional gravity that’s caught us within its clutch.

  “You… you did?” Her lack of sass, witty retort or sarcasm is painful, even though I thought I’d never miss those things about her.

  “Yes. The first time we… made love…” I begin, and she snorts. I glare at her, and she cannot help but give a small smile.

  “I’m sorry… it’s just, that’s such an old person thing to say.” She blushes and then blinks a few times, dissipating her own amusement.

  “Well, regardless, I lost my virginity to her. Then the next morning, I woke up and I couldn’t remember the event. She was dead beside me. My demon form presented itself for the first in the heat of the moment, so to speak, and… well you can guess the rest,” I recall the event, the terror, the trauma and the guilt. Something which I have tried to avoid for decades.

  “How… how do you live with it?” she asks me, deadly serious now as her eyes well with tears.

  She looks down to the ground, fidgeting on the damp grass and becoming once more that tiny girl who had lost it all in a blaze of flames.

  “You just do. The guilt may never leave you, but what happened was an accident, and no amount of money, or time, or punishing yourself is going to bring your parents back. They’re gone. It’s over. They wouldn’t want you to punish yourself over it. They weren’t like that.” I remember the couple vividly, how driven Adam Sinclair had been, even to the point of neglect for his family, and how loving Demi never ceased to appear, to the point where she sacrificed everything to give her daughter a normal life.

  Unfortunately, that’s been blown to hell. Or so it would seem.

  “You knew them?” She looks surprised, and I nod.

  “I did, and I was there that day. The day of the fire. How do you think you got out?” I ask her, and she looks deeply into my face, as though by staring hard enough she will be able to recall the memory.

  “I thought you looked familiar,” she mutters under her breath.

  “Well, I remember you. I always have. You were so innocent back then,” I recall, and she tilts her chin, defiant.

  “How can you say that? I killed my parents. I’m a murderer.” The word falls like ice from her lips, chilling me deep. I’ve had the same thoughts, but now I’m looking at her situation, I realise that perhaps an accident really is nobody’s fault.

  “You’re not a murderer. You didn’t do it on purpose. It doesn’t even count as a real sin. Nothing you do does until you’re over the age of sixteen. That’s why there are no children in Mortaria. You can’t be held accountable for your actions.” I try to make her feel better, and I think it works a little because her eyes become curious.

  “Is that… is that why you’re there. Are you atoning?” she asks me, and I sigh out.

  “No. I’m damned regardless of what I do. Demon souls… or even half demon souls, they have no place anywhere but Mortaria. Even if I die, no amount of servitude could ever redeem me.” I speak this truth, another which I try not to think about, and her eyes widen, pity filling them in place of despair.

  It’s the most honest conversation we’ve ever had, and I wonder if it’ll help her or if she’ll just disregard each word as if it means nothing, just as she always does.

  “Do you think… do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks me, her eyes brimming now.

  “No. I think you’re a brave person.” I respond automatically with a truth I cannot deny. She is brave. Braver than she knows, and behind her usual cockiness and swagger, there is a person who has been alone for a long time. Someone who has had to look after themselves, even when they didn’t know how to.

  Her eyes begin to overflow with tears and she does something which shocks me to my very core. She steps forward and leans into me for a hug. I put my arms around her, the feel of human contact foreign and terrifying as she sobs in my arms.

  I bring a palm up and stroke her fiery hair, hushing her under the silent blinking of many dimming stars. Looking up to the sky, I enjoy the feel of another so close and exhale, knowing that this is wrong. I can’t get involved with her, no matter how much I want to or how much she might make everything inside of me burn in a way it hasn’t for decades. I’m destructive, and unpredictable, meaning I’m also cursed to live life alone.

  As I cradle her in my arms, which have been empty too long, I know we are the same. Two lone meteorites, free falling from the stars and burning everything we collide with to ash.

  LUCE

  It’s an uncertain but late hour as I once again fall through the door to my suite, only to be greeted by the two loves of my life. Beelz, who is back from her late-night hunt around The Ashen Waste, and Thane, who is wearing a large white t-shirt, men’s boxer shorts and nothing else. She’s sprawled, long legs immaculately spindled, along the couch, with Beelzebub, my pet panther, lounging on the rug in front of the enormous dark hearth which burns a cool blue flame.

  “How did it go?” I hear her ask as I turn toward the coat stand by the door. Throwing my long black cloak over one of the twisted iron hooks, I turn back to face her.

  “It was… well, distressing.” I bite my bottom lip, not knowing how to describe what I’ve just witnessed.

  That poor girl.

  It had been my intention to scare her, but upon seeing her boldness in spite of everything which was so radically changing around her, she had held her ground. She had fought. In spite of guilt, and loss, and what I can imagine is an unimaginable sense of shaken identity, she’d remained fierce. And for that, she has earned my respect.

  “Is she… I mean, is she really his daughter?” Thane demands this information tentatively, moving to sit with her legs crossed in front of her, spine acutely straight as her attention zeroes in on me. Her stormy gaze burns into my own, making me feel like the world around me is simply falling away. How does her magnetic personality always manage to pull me into its distracting grasp?

  “Yes. She’s his daughter.” I exhale heavily, pressing down my hair with my long fingers and trying to entertain myself, avoiding the sudden urge to strip naked.

  I bend at the knee, knowing Beelzebub will provide apt distraction, and bury my nails into her thick onyx fur. She purrs slightly, but scowls in spite of my affections.

  For some reason, this damn panther has always liked Thane more than me. Haedes had captured her from the mortal plain and brought her here to keep me company in those days before Thane joined me, but it’s clear, despite our early connection, who she prefers.

  A deep purr erupts from within her chest as she stands up, stretching out her long spine and thrusting her ass in the air as her tail curls like heavy smoke. Enormous paws spread, and claws protrude, mouth opening in a yawn, exposing her enormous teeth, before she pads around in a small circle and sits down again, facing away from me.

  Gee thanks, Beelz, I love you too.

  I roll my
eyes, and Thane gives her a stroke between the ears. The sassy cat purrs this time but remains exactly where she is, making her preference perfectly evident.

  “Are you going to tell him?” she demands, as I take a few steps past her and glide through the misted glass of the Japanese sliding doors which lead into our bedroom.

  “I don’t think so. Not tonight. I don’t even know what to make of it myself. She doesn’t want to stay here. He doesn’t want anything to do with her either. And it’s entirely possible that he’s the only one who can teach her to protect herself.” I begin to undress, pulling the top layer of my black lace dress over my head so I’m stood in only lingerie and my dark petticoats. “I mean, you know about Banshee. They can smell power… so what if… what if the Demon Lords don’t know about her? What if it was just a mistake?” I muse, hopeful in my tone.

  Thane snorts and I hear her metronomic tread pacing across the stone of the floor before the sliding doors move apart, revealing her.

  “You think that one of Lilliana’s own Kindred died and no-one noticed? Come on, Luce, I know we look like spring chickens, but you can’t be that naïve.” Her thin lips contort around the words I don’t want to hear as she paces over to our bed, taking a seat and watching me undress with a leisurely and feline smile.

  I hear snoring from the other room, signalling that my kitty is asleep, hardly surprising as that’s what she spends around fifty percent of her time doing.

  “I know… I just, I can’t help but feel for this girl. I wouldn’t wish being a demi-god on anyone. It’s only just marginally better than being…” I stop, swallowing hard. Thane gets to her feet.

  “Now, that’s enough of that. You’re beautiful and perfect. With horns or without. I’ll love you forever. Even after I’m just smoke on the wind, Luce. You know you need to stop with this self-loathing. You’re more powerful than you know. You shouldn’t be so ashamed.” Thane condemns me, placing her hands on my shoulders as I step out of my underskirts so I’m standing in only my underwear. Her eyes caress me in that way they do, and I shudder, a delicious temptation curling around my heart and constricting in a serpentine vice.