The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1)

by Kristy Nicolle

  A knife. The word comes to me, the abrupt sound of it only bringing visuals of it slicing into her skin without mercy for what it is destroying in only seconds. I turn, finding the culprit on the bedside table beside several candles that have long since diminished. The candles she lit for me.

  The opal blade. The object which had started Sephy’s fight for her life had been the very same weapon that has ended it.

  I don’t know how to feel. What to do.

  I can’t bring her back; she’s too far gone. Rigor mortis has already set in. She’s stiff now, like a doll as I reach out to touch her hand. I immediately recoil my hand. The flesh of her body is cold, wrong. Not hers any more.

  Who would do such a thing?

  Demons?

  Pandora?

  Why?

  After everything she’s been through, everything we’ve both done to keep her alive. It ended like this. In a puddle of her own blood, no magic, no defender lying next to her. She died alone, and in pain. After everything.

  I’m on my knees, unable to stop looking at her, afraid that if I do, then she’ll really be dead, really be gone. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe.

  I do the only thing that I can. The only thing I can remember how to do.

  I hold back my head, and let the tears flow from my eyes as I cry out at the top of my lungs. Shocked, beyond what I’d thought was possible for someone without a fully mortal soul to feel.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  We’ve Only Just Begun

  LUCE

  I haven’t slept in days. Though whether this is because I myself am grieving, or because I know Xion’s heart is broken, it’s hard to tell. Everyone has fallen silent in a suspended state of shock after the news of Sephy Sinclair’s murder. Particularly Haedes. I haven’t seen him, nor heard a word from him since the news, and I wonder if he’s finally gone truly off the deep end and drunk himself to death, though, the practical entanglement of killing yourself in Mortaria makes this seem unlikely.

  I’ve been walking around my apartment for the last week, not going out or doing anything, really. I’ve just been thinking, pondering, wondering whether or not this crime is as human as it seems.

  Could it be that Sephy Sinclair had invoked the wrath of Pandora or the Demon Lords, even after her show of defiance? It seems likely, but in a world where everyone tells you to think horses when you hear hooves, I tend to look for zebras.

  I stand on the balcony of my suite, looking as ever to the skies, waiting for Thane’s return. The silence that has fallen over this place is uncanny, and I wonder if Haedes really is okay.

  I’m worried, and the longer I enjoy the peace which I have so desired all those nights when I couldn’t sleep due to the world’s most irritating roommate, the more I realise I need to hunt him down.

  Once again, I find myself unable to stop helping someone who doesn’t want to help themselves, but I suppose that’s just a character flaw of mine. Perhaps I’m just a sucker for a lost cause.

  Turning on my heel, my simple black dress of Chantilly lace blooming around me as the skirt billows out, I spin away from the Mortarian horizon and stalk through the apartment. Slipping on some black velvet ballet pumps, I open the door, not bothering to lock it behind me, and descend the spiral staircase in haste.

  I pass through the entrance hall, wondering where to start looking first. I could try Haedes’ suite, but the thought of walking in on him in some kind of grief fuelled sex rage makes my stomach turn, so I decide to try my luck in the grand hall first.

  I reach the entrance, pulling open the large double doors, which feel cool beneath my fingertips. The sconces inside are bright, lit from The Eternal Flame and so I know he’s nearby. I can’t locate him anywhere in the hall, and yet I can hear his mad ramblings from all the way across the spacious chasm of the room.

  “Haedes?” I call out, nervous as to what state I’ll find him in.

  “Luce! I’m in the vault,” he calls in reply, and I frown, puzzled. He doesn’t sound intoxicated or even slightly tipsy. This is a pleasant if not slightly shocking discovery, and I feel my stomach unfurl as relief blankets me.

  I tread fast across the smoky quartz of the floor, my reflection intimidating as I’m dressed all in black today, the lace appearing delicate but on closer inspection has been crafted in the silhouettes of Venus fly traps, one of my favourite plants. My white hair is brilliant in contrast, and my skin is ghostly pale against my bloody red lips as I reach the golden plated entrance of Haedes’ vault.

  Stepping inside, I find him on the floor with his legs out in front of him, leaning against the wall. He’s surrounded by books, hourglasses and magical artefacts that I’ve never seen, nor would ask to see. Haedes has acquired some truly dangerous magic in his time as head of The Nexus Council, and there is certainly more than one reason why he had this vault built in the first place.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, trying not to sound judgemental. He raises his gaze to mine, which looks tired but electrically charged, sprawled out on the floor in a black velvet suit, which is too short in the leg where he’s sitting. Bright red socks are exposed underneath and his jacket lies at his side. His torso is covered in a crumpled red silk shirt, and his braces have been detached and are hanging down behind him. His hair is wild, and it looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

  “I’m… well, I’m trying to solve the mystery, aren’t I?” he laughs, and I cock my head, confused as all hell.

  “What?” I exclaim, wondering momentarily if his calm has deceived me. Perhaps he has, in fact, gone truly and utterly mad.

  “I’m trying to solve the mystery of how to get to The Nether Realm. There must be a way.” His words form a linear sentence, and yet the content still fails to abide by logic.

  “Haedes… look, are you alright? You know there’s no way to get to The Nether Realm. You know that… don’t you?” I bend down, letting my skirt pool around my ankles as I sit on the floor.

  “Look, I saw Hercules today. She hasn’t risen from the Divine Pastures… they’re not letting her… because of me. I can’t just… I can’t just…” He sounds like a record stuck on repeat.

  “Are you coming to the funeral?” I enquire with haste, cutting him off, and his eyes glaze over, spark diminishing as quickly as it came.

  “No. I am not,” he retorts, and I feel my heart sink. This isn’t going to end well for anyone. He was too late to attend Demi’s funeral too, and decades later he’s still a broken man.

  “Look, I really think you should. It’s good for closure.” I explain my reasoning, and he suddenly looks angry as his hair tinges oranges at the tips.

  “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not looking for bloody closure! I’m looking to bring my god damn daughter back!” he growls, and I exhale heavily.

  “You know better than I that resurrection, true resurrection, hasn’t been attempted for eons… not since, well not since my father stole The Book of The Dead,” I recall, and his eyes widen at my candour.

  “Right… that was when Anubis was tricked by Cronus into putting Ra into Horus’ body? Wasn’t it?” He waves his index finger, as if I’ve suddenly oiled the cogs working in his brain, making them slick and fast once more.

  “Yes, that’s right. Ra took his own mortal life and dissipated his energy, he was enraged at Anubis for promising Cronus his loyalty.” I remember the tales from when I had been a child in Othrys, moved there with my mother for business, the talk in the Higher Plains of the wars that raged below. “But Moloch… he had special talents when it came to resurrection,” I remind him, trying to get rid of any insane ideas that may be forming in his brain.

  “True…” Haedes’ gaze lingers on me, and I stare back at him, narrowing my pale eyes as I feel my heart rate accelerate.

  “Before you say anything… No. I couldn’t possibly do something on that level. Besides, The Book of The Dead has been lost for centuries. You know this, Haedes,” I express, and he shrugs.

&nbs
p; “You know what Xion said to me before she died?” he asks me pointedly, and I shake my head.

  “No. I don’t,” I state, and he looks ashamed of himself.

  “He said that if it had been Demi in that colosseum, then I would have tried harder…I would have found a way to save her. I would have broken all the rules,” he looks miserable and I scowl.

  “Xion was mad. People say a lot of stupid crap when they’re mad.” I remind him of his own words at the confrontation, the way he’d apparently threatened Xion, and he shakes his head.

  “No. You misunderstand. He was right,” he admits, and I feel my eyebrows rise whilst pushing my hair back behind one ear.

  “I’m not sure…” I begin, but he cuts me off.

  “No, Luce. I would have risked my life for Demi. I would have died for her. I would have found a way. I’m the god of The Underworld, this is my domain, and I’ve become this… shell. I’m weak. I drink too much. I just try to get around my pain without going through it. I can’t do that with her. I can’t get around how badly I’ve failed her as a father. So, I am going to find a way to bring her back. I owe her that. I owe her every last ounce of effort I have. She deserves to live. Not to be stuck in some limbo void because her uncle hates her father.” His speech makes me realise that perhaps Sephy’s death has had the opposite effect on him that I’d anticipated. It hasn’t destroyed his grasp on reality and his desire to truly live; it’s reignited a passion within him I haven’t seen for years.

  I can’t help but smile, despite the fact my soul remains heavily shrouded in the dark veil of grief that has fallen over us all.

  “Well, I can’t resurrect her. I can’t, Haedes. I’m serious. An act of that magnitude and intent is rooted in darkness. It would… it would put me at risk. You know how susceptible I am…” I warn him, fearing for my goodness as he looks sad.

  “I know. It’s too much to ask. But if I can find this book, then maybe there’s another way. Maybe I can figure it out. I am a god myself, though I know I haven’t been acting like one lately, and I’m directly related to Gaia. If I don’t have the power to do it, there won’t be many people who do.” He sounds more hopeful than I’ve heard him in forever.

  “Alright. We should talk to Anubis.” I suggest, and he nods.

  “Good idea. I’ll light a summoning scroll in a few moments. I just want to brush up on my Gorgonian and Egyptian history first,” he explains, and I agree.

  “Very well. Do you really think this will work?” I ask him, and he sighs out.

  “Have you been keeping abreast with The Circle of Eight at all?” he enquires, and I shake my head.

  “Well, Hercules was telling me that they’ve had to intervene in a serious situation in the Pacific. Poseidon’s own stupid fault of course, but they moved their essences collectively from The Higher Plains to the mortal plain, just for a short time of course. As you can imagine, their recklessness with the walls between dimensions has left us with a certain weakness between this world and The Higher Plains, including The Nether. This might, in fact, be the perfect opportunity. If something like this is going to work, it has to be attempted soon.” Haedes informs me of his logic, and I roll my eyes, taking a moment to lament the carelessness of other gods.

  “Are you serious? We’re all down here trying to keep the balance absolutely perfect, and they’re just transferring essences between dimensions? Seriously?” I cuss, fuming at the risk they’ve taken.

  “Apparently, it was ‘imperative’, whatever that means.” Haedes rolls his eyes, mimicking my expression as his fingers form air quotes around the word. “You know, sometimes I think you and I should just rule the entire universe. I mean, it would be far more fun,” he adds, and I smirk.

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “We are the life of the after-party.” He smiles at me.

  “And you’re sure you wanna bring your daughter back to the party?” I question him, and he smirks.

  “Have you met my daughter? It wouldn’t be a damn party without her.”

  XION

  We bury her on a Wednesday. As the rain pours down from the grey heavens of the Illinois sky, the coffin is lowered into the dark dankness of the ground. Luce stands at my side, her hand, covered in a black lace glove, gripping mine as if both our lives depend on it. Tears fall down her porcelain face, her light eyes wide as I lean on her for support. Thane is here too, though she has given us both space and stands on the opposite side of the grave as we huddle beneath an enormous black umbrella, next to the mausoleum where Sephy’s parents were laid to rest all those years ago. The trees rustle, the sound of rain hitting each individual leaf too obvious as the space surrounding the funeral site is filled only with sniffles and silence. This is a void of feeling, and numbness tightens its hold on me as I think of her body, still and cold, lying in the earth.

  I don’t know how to feel, where to look, how to act. I know I must look guilty in all this, especially to the police. A man with no identity, a man with no social security number or proof of his whereabouts, having shown up, having bedded the murder victim only the night before. Claiming to have found her the next day.

  They took her body away right before I smashed up the interior of her suite during a three-day bout of demon rage I can scarcely even remember. Lost in a sea of demonic anguish, I had gone over the scene, the night, over and over again until it lost meaning.

  But it wasn’t me.

  Not this time.

  Jules believes me because he had found me, staring at her, sobbing and crying out at the injustice of it all. I must have seemed pathetic, a grown man on his knees in a puddle of blood, falling apart at the seams, but I can’t say I would react any other way if I was to go back and relive that same moment. I catch his eyes over the six-foot-deep pit as the minister continues to talk about gods he knows nothing about.

  I’m still buzzing with the shock, and a part of me wonders how quickly the memories of our night together will fade. It had been the best night of my life, and for a single glistening moment, my future had appeared as though it could be bright too. Bright with her.

  Unfortunately for me, demons, even half demons, don’t get happy endings.

  Peter steps forward, and the minister falls silent after asking for sentiments about Sephy, about who she had been. Not that Peter actually knows. If he did, he never would have insisted they dress her in a floor length white gown for burial, something angelic and pure. Sephy would rather have been buried in leather with a bottle of whisky beside her for good measure…anyone who knew her knew that.

  “It is with great sadness that we are here today at the ending of a life which was filled with good intent and potential. I only wish she had reached that potential before her life was stolen from her. Sephy Sinclair will never be forgotten, but I think we can rest easy knowing that she is with her beloved parents, my beloved sister, once more,” Peter speaks the words like he’s reading them off a tele-prompter, and I feel like I might punch him and break his glasses right into his nose.

  He doesn’t deserve to speak for Sephy. Sephy hated him, and he didn’t like her that much either from what I’ve come to understand of the matter.

  The rain pitter-patters atop the umbrella as people begin to take handfuls of dirt and drop them on top of her. My heart wilts.

  I don’t want to say goodbye.

  I only just met you. And I have so much more I need to say, need to show you. I lament, feeling sick as dirt hits the top of the mahogany casket with a dull thump. She shouldn’t be in the earth; I’ve said this too She would have wanted to be cremated so she could blow away on a breeze and be free as a bird… as a phoenix.

  I drop in my handful of dirt, trying to be as careful as possible, not wanting to but knowing it’s a part of this ridiculous mortal tradition.

  The crowd scatters, and I realise I have no idea who half of the people present are. I wonder if Sephy did either.

  I recognise a lot of her board members, which makes me
want to laugh, but other than me, Jules, Thane and Luce, I can’t see anyone who she’d really want to be here at all.

  As we turn, walking across the lawn and back up to house for the mandatory wake, I continue to wonder about who is responsible for this.

  Who killed Sephy?

  Luce has considered the same thing, but she also makes a good point, which is that if it had been the Demon Lords or Pandora, they probably would have made it known to someone. After all, killing a demi-goddess is a bold move and one any dark creature would relish taking credit for, especially one with the hatred for Zeus which Pandora harbours.

  I also can’t imagine the Demon Lords would have used a knife. They seem to be far too clean cut and calculative for such an underwhelming yet brutal act. It’s almost as if… the killer knew Sephy personally. Especially with how she’d been stabbed multiple times, more times than necessary to kill her, that’s for certain.

  Whoever had ended her life had been angry, furious perhaps.

  I wonder who would harbour such an intense rage against her but can’t think of anyone. Certainly no one who would know to use the opal blade… unless the killer didn’t know the purpose of the knife but found it lying around somewhere in the lobby.

  I had left the blade on the foyer table.

  Is it my fault?

  As I make my way inside the estate, I continue to make myself insane with questions, putting them to myself over and over as I make pointless small talk in my new tailored suit and sip rancid wine.

  The wake passes in a blur of condolences and fake pitied glances. I hate it. Hate the stiff actions, the forced small talk, the ridiculously tiny finger food, which is soggy and makes me feel like a giant. Luce leaves eventually too, taking Thane with her, and I’m left, sprawled out amongst empty trays, bottles and glasses on a sofa, which is located on the right side of the grand staircase, upholstered in dark fabric that is soft to touch.

  “Are you alright?” Jules’ voice calls out to me from the other side of the hall, and I shrug.