The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1)

by Kristy Nicolle

  “Well, then, this is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received.” I take a step forward to shake his hand, but instead he turns from me, standing quickly and moving fluidly across the room, avoiding the contact.

  “I’ll gather the others. We’ll be waiting patiently for your return,” he informs me, and I don’t reply this time, clearly not meant to take the gift as anything more than a tool with which to apprehend my target.

  I don’t say another word as he leaves the room, and I’m left with only the scorch marks of the seven-pointed star upon stone to indicate anything has changed.

  Smiling and hopeful, I take the box from my pocket and slide the desired panel open, envisioning the throne room of The Icon once again and feeling my connection with the box grow. Watching the whirring portal start up, I step through to meet my summoner.

  “You rang?” I call, finding Anubis standing, impatient, behind her three pet Jackals. Osiris is beside her, his face uncertain. The dogs shift at my arrival as the portal closes behind me, and I slide the lid of the box shut, replacing it inside my pocket.

  “It has become apparent that you were correct, Pandora. This girl, she’s dangerous. She cannot separate her head from her heart,” Anubis informs me. Whatever the girl has done to inspire this change of heart is well timed to say the least.

  “I see,” I reply, trying to keep my expression stoic. I flip my hair back over one shoulder, waiting expectantly for her to continue. After all, she summoned me.

  “I cannot see any other solution at this point other than to destroy her,” she concludes with a pained look staining her flawless painted face, causing me this time to smile without restraint.

  “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” I ask her, and she sighs.

  “A little doping should do the trick. I’ll invite her to dinner and have her sedated. Once she’s out, you can take her back to the Demon Lords.” She’s thought this through, which is hardly surprising; she’s smart. “But, my son and I will also be taking the same sedative. I do not wish to be implicated in this, Pandora. Do you understand?” She is firm, crossing her arms across the white of her floor length wrapped gown. I bow my head, acknowledging her desire.

  “I understand, I can see why. Haedes would not be best pleased if he discovered you were giving up his little girl, now, would he?” I ask her, and she shakes her head, causing her thick golden jewellery to clatter around her neck and against her jaw.

  “I don’t know how much he’d care to be honest. So, if you’re trying to use her for any other reason than to ensure this prophecy does not come to fruition, then I’m not sure it’s wise,” she warns me, and I frown. Does she know I intend to blackmail Haedes into handing me his Kingdom? Is this a trick?

  “You have my word. It is merely for protection, for all our sakes,” I lie, and she nods, her eyelids fluttering. “I have something for you actually,” I add, smiling, trying to keep things civil. I pass her the green velvet bag, removing it from my cleavage where I placed it for the journey.

  She moves forward, her Jackals parting before her as her heeled-sandal clad feet step softly across the gold of the floor. Her eyes widen as she takes it in her palm.

  “What is it?” She demands more information of me, peering into the bottom of the bag.

  “Ground fire opal. It should weaken her. Just in case. Try mixing that in with the sedative,” I suggest, and she smiles.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.” She is only mildly grateful, as though I’ve just presented her with a new hat. We’re demure, proper in all respects and etiquette, as though we’re not discussing the subject of kidnap and murder at all.

  “Well, we are in this together, for the greater good. Is that all then?” I ask her, noticing she looks suddenly eager to have the conversation over with. Murder is so often misconstrued as unsavoury rather than necessity after all.

  “Yes, we will eat later tonight. You should return and watch the dinner from nearby in sinner attire, if you come back just before, I will have a servant attend you,” she decrees, and I nod.

  Simple.

  “Very well, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of quickly. If you know what I mean.” Her eyes soften, and I realise that she’s probably actually torn up about this. Where Anubis is hardened, she is also a mother, and with that comes weakness for the children of others, even if that does include Haedes.

  “You must leave now; they’ll be here for breakfast soon. I don’t want to be implicated. If I hear you so much as whisper my name, I’ll have you slaughtered, and you should also know that while I might be unconscious, I’ll also be surrounded by guards, so don’t try anything funny,” she threatens me, clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement but sure she’s doing what is right and not what is easy.

  “You have my word. Good day.” I speak my words of parting, reaching for the box once more. I open a panel, the portal spilling out from within as I picture the Fallen Kingdom clearly in my mind. The Jackals bark at the disturbance in the air, and I hear Osiris scold them this time. If you ask me, this is the most control he’s taken of any situation, ever. He’s a mommy’s boy for sure, though with a mother like Anubis, it’s not hard to see why.

  Back in the Fallen Kingdom, I step out of the mist of the box’s innards and back into the room from which I’d come where the five Demon Lords are now assembled, waiting for me with bored expressions.

  “That was fast,” Gorgon observes, his expression momentarily worried. The rest of the other Demon Lords are sat around the table, except for Barbas who is standing. They all stare at me, expectant.

  “Anubis and Osiris have agreed to sedate the girl; I will be bringing her here,” I announce, and they all smile. All of them except Lilliana.

  “We’re going to kill her?” It’s more like a statement than a question, but she poses it as if she’s waiting for my instruction. I shake my head.

  “No, we’re going to use her as blackmail. Her life for Mortaria. Your children will starve no longer,” I vow, and they all look surprised.

  “You really think Haedes will hand over Mortaria for his daughter?” Abraxis looks surprised at this assumption.

  “I believe he is weak, just as all parents are weak when it comes to their children,” I make this pointed remark, noting how he sits back, as though defeated. I have studied these Lords for a while now, and this has only helped me in the long run. I know that Xion is a personal weakness of Abraxis’, even if he would never admit it.

  “Very well. Then it is done. What would you like us to do?” Katerina enquires, every breath she inhales painfully apparent as her ribs push against the boning of her corset. They all stare at me with unsure gazes. Could it be that they’re looking to me as their leader now?

  I smile. This is exactly where I want them, exactly the power dynamic I have been craving, whereby they work for me.

  “Now, you will go to the Dark Colosseum and ready the strongest of your Kindred to tear her apart should Haedes say no. The rest of your children should be sent to protect the perimeter, should anyone try to stage a rescue,” I order them, looking to Lilliana now, “Except for you. You will give me two of your strongest fighters to accompany me when I go and deliver the ultimatum to Haedes, then go and dispatch the rest of your Kindred for the main event,” I demand, and she nods.

  “Yes, of course,” she replies, subservient.

  I have broken them, shown them that I am smart, that I can bargain with gods who have taken so much from them in years gone past. I have shown them I can rule. This is just the first step of course, but it is an important one, for in convincing the Demon Lords that I am worthy of their respect, of their loyalty, I am one step closer to once again standing among gods. This time, though, it will be different…different gods, Ancient gods, and gods to whom I will matter.

  I will show them.

  I will prove myself.

  I will have my revenge.

  SEPHY

  What am I doing?

&nbs
p; This is the only question I can seem to form as I sit on the edge of my bed, back in my room. I’d left Xion stirring in his sleep and been unable to fathom staying in the room with him a second longer. Having changed my clothes into the only other set I currently possess, which had been stuffed into my backpack, I lean back, letting my hair fall down my spine and looking up to the ceiling.

  Why do I keep sleeping with him? That’s so…. not me. Like not even in the same zipcode as me.

  Is it him? Or is it me? Or is it this fucked up situation I can’t seem to escape, like some kind of nightmare that’s come and infected my life, poisoning what I thought I knew and causing me to become victim to its potent darkness?

  Ugh. I’m beginning to sound like a warning on a Ouija board.

  I place my head in my hands, pulling my fingers through my hair as it falls forward in a fiery wave, and sighing out, trying to gain some kind of hold on reality, on what’s really going on.

  Why can’t I keep my boundaries straight with him?

  Is it Xion in particular? Or is it the fact that it seems like he’s the only one who has my interests at heart without bias or ulterior motive? Surely it can’t be anything that ridiculous or sentimental. I mean come on; I’d never be that chick.

  A knock at the door startles me.

  “Come in,” I call, not bothering to move.

  It’s Xion. He steps across the threshold and into the room, his expression giving nothing away. I look up to him; his molten eyes are, as ever, full of concern for me.

  Why do you do that? You’re supposed to be a demon, not a freaking puppy! I cuss internally.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, and I shrug, not wanting to tell him just how confused he makes me.

  “Just stressed. My usual tension relief activities are kind of off the table for now.” I exhale, bored of this place, bored of running, of being afraid.

  “Which are?” he enquires, crossing his arms and causing the leather of his jacket to crinkle at his inner elbow.

  “Quick and easy sex, beating the crap out of Jacque, my personal trainer… riding Nightshade.” I list them off, and his mouth quirks at the side.

  “Well, I’m sure I can help with at least one of those.” My eyes widen at this sentiment, and my mouth goes dry.

  “Excuse me?” I stutter, and he laughs.

  “Training, we could go out onto the Ashen Waste, give you some more practice with your powers?” he suggests, and I exhale, disappointed for some reason.

  “Xion…” I find myself more curious than I want to admit, unable to stop myself from asking the question.

  “Yes?” he replies, his gorgeous ruggedness only exaggerated by the fact that he’s just recently woken.

  “You don’t want to fuck me, right?” I ask him, trying to sound cocky, trying to remind him of who he is dealing with. I don’t do relationships; I do quick, easy, and fun.

  He laughs, though the sound is hollow.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” With this remark, his voice is somewhat pained, but I guess that’s because I’ve taken him giving me comfort last night a step too far.

  “Sorry, it’s all this change making me act like an emotional psycho. I’ve been afraid. I can’t be that way anymore. What happened last night… it can’t happen again. I was being ridiculous,” I announce, heartless, and he nods.

  “Understood. Come on, it’s time for breakfast.” He doesn’t wait for me to leave the room; he simply goes, leaving me trailing behind him.

  After an awkward breakfast, where rather than discussing anything actually important, Osiris decides to inform me of exactly why sinners don’t need to eat, or sleep for that matter, Xion and I head out of the pyramid.

  “You know I really could have done without knowing about how dead bodies work under the Resurrection flame… like I know I asked about where the sinners were eating… but did Osiris really have to get that graphic?” I complain to Xion as a final golden door slides aside in front of us. We step out into the cool Mortarian air where I’m startled to find it snowing.

  “His people used to pull brains out of dead guys’ noses with steel hooks. Subtlety really isn’t his forte” Xion reminds me, and I muse over this momentarily. He does have a point.

  “Snow?” I query the weather, quickly changing the subject, and he shakes his head.

  “Ash. Though I can see why you would think otherwise.” As he speaks, stoic in tone and expression after our prior conversation, I hold out a palm, letting a few flakes of ash fall upon my hot skin. When I examine our surroundings, I realise that the ground is covered in off grey powder, not the pure white snow I had first thought, and kick at it with my boot. It moves like dust with hardly any weight to it, spraying up in front of me. I sputter.

  “Don’t inhale that. It’s not good for those of us still living. And while Osiris might not have the best table manners, it’s important you know the difference between us and the doppels. We’re alive. We need to eat, to sleep. They can choose to, but they don’t have to. Some sinners aren’t allowed to eat, gluttony sinners for example, while others are forbidden from sleeping; those would be the sloth sinners,” he explains, keeping things factual.

  “I see… any other differences I should know about?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation moving as we begin to tread away from The Icon.

  “They can’t leave. They need the sun. A few have tried to escape, but their blood won’t let them cross any portal. They’re stuck here until they’re redeemed,” he explains, and I nod. It makes sense.

  “I haven’t upset you, have I?” I ask him, concerned what he thinks of me. This is indeed, unfamiliar territory where I’m concerned, and I’m beginning to dislike it.

  “Why would you think that?” He looks surprised, and so I shrug as my feet leave imprints in the ash underfoot.

  “I don’t know; I came to you last night, and then… I don’t know.” I truly don’t know how to express any of how I’m feeling to him. He smiles, but sadness lingers behind his eyes as he runs his hand through his hair, dislodging a thick layer of ash, which unfortunately looks like chronic dandruff.

  “Look, Sephy, you’re scared and being hunted. I don’t hold you to anything you do. You came to me last night, but I’m your security guard. It’s natural. I know it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t have to worry. I’m perfectly aware that you don’t possess a single shred of feeling towards me, or any man for that matter.” I feel slight relief, but then a heaviness fills my chest as his final words ring out in my ears.

  “Thank you,” I reply, but he doesn’t smile, instead placing a hand on the leather of my jacket.

  “Don’t mention it. Now come on; let’s go hitch a ride to the Waste,” he suggests, lowering his hand down the length of my arm and grabbing my palm in his firmly.

  “I could always try convecting…” I suggest, and he turns to me in surprise.

  “I think it might be a bit much for you to convect us both. You’re still bonding with your goddess half. I don’t want to tire you out before we’ve even seen any demons.” He reminds me of what we’re here for, and I wonder why I’m willingly walking into The Ashen Waste with him. Why am I seeking out the demons that are already hunting me?

  I know the answer as an open-top cart full of sinners in dark armour comes into view. We continue to move through the ash, which plumes up beneath our feet, toward it in silence.

  It’s because I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.

  Do I have a death wish?

  Maybe.

  Or maybe, I’m fucked up enough to think Xion will be there, muscles bulging, ass kicking… defending me.

  I momentarily consider slapping myself as this thought crosses my mind. What have I become? A woman who needs defending?

  Not today.

  Balling my fists by my sides, we reach the open top trailer attached to four Percherons, which stand in two lines of two. The armoured sinners turn, six women and four men, all staring at Xion and me as w
e step up into the crude wood of the vehicle. I sit beside Xion in the only remaining space facing away from the horses, and as the driver senses that his load is full, he slaps a whip against the behinds of the Percherons before us, and we jolt into motion. The trailer reminds me of something I saw cattle transported in once, with dark wood railings and simple wooden benches lining the edges.

  I pull my hood from the sweater I’m wearing beneath the leather of my jacket up over my head, knowing my hair is a dead giveaway as to my lineage.

  Xion’s thigh and his shoulder push into the side of my body, squashing me against a woman with black hair who is sat beside me. I peek out from under my hood as we approach the large obsidian wall, noting a pendant of deep bloody garnet hanging around her neck.

  As we reach the tall layer of obsidian, I watch as several sinners move to spin an enormous wheel made of the same dark crystal, which protrudes from the base of the construct. The criss-crossing metal bars lift slowly from the ash, which rises a few inches up the lowest hanging struts, allowing us passage to the other side.

  With another crack of the whip, the horses’ momentum begins again, and we move forward. I stare up, the aroma of the air stale in my nostrils like the scent of a bonfire long since it’s been extinguished. I cross my legs as I twist atop the bench, gaping at the enormous archway we pass through fluidly and without falter.

  The wall is thick, extremely thick, and as we emerge the other side, I can see why it’s necessary. The sinners around us visibly tense, and I turn my gaze from the wall and out to the horizon behind me.

  My eyes widen and my breath catches in my chest.

  They sprawl, in thousands, across the ash-smothered land. Demons fighting with sinners, in a timeless clash to the death beneath the crimson endlessness of the sky.

  “Wow,” I express, and Xion nods.

  “Now you see the need for the wall,” he adds, and I look to him, peeking from beneath my hood and into the molten bronze of his eyes, which has heated considerably as it reflects the sky at me.