by H. R. Moore
‘I’m terribly sorry but I have a prior engagement,’ she said sweetly, looking up at him through her lashes, matching his flirty tone, ‘excuse me.’ And with that she left through the back exit, leaving everyone in the bar staring at Marcus as he turned indifferently and strode out to join the others.
‘Holy mother of the Gods,’ Cleo exclaimed, bounding out of the bar after Anita, ‘what were you thinking?’
‘It was a challenge,’ Anita shrugged, exasperated, as though this should be enough to explain everything.
‘You have just committed social suicide.’
‘Social suicide? How?’ Anita spat at her. ‘Where exactly was I in the social standings anyway? They’re just people Cleo. People like you and me, but they just happened to be born into a different bloodline.’
‘They’re powerful Anita. You need to be careful.’
Alexander’s earlier words came back to her, ‘you are a very desirable asset’ and it halted her tirade, she knew Cleo was right. ‘Look I know I shouldn’t have done it like that, but I couldn’t go to Marcus’ ‘residence’ and be their plaything for the evening.’ Cleo nodded. At least Anita hadn’t made a complete swooning idiot out of herself like most other girls would have. ‘Look, Cleo, I think I’m going to head home. Thanks for the champagne and say bye to Bas for me?’
‘Sure, no worries,’ said Cleo blankly, shaking her head as she turned and went back inside.
CHAPTER 3
Alexander got up and made his excuses. There was only so much of Gwyn and Marcus proclaiming they were masters of the universe that he could take. He had never really liked spending time with them, but since Philip had died he found them tedious at best. He decided to go back to the Temples and see how Christiana was doing, she was always a sound source of advice and maybe she could help him understand why the Body girl was having such an effect on him. He, unlike her, was able to control his energy, so no-one would know, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Maybe it’s just her energy, he thought as he descended through the centre of the Temple of the Spirit into the lower chambers; it’s totally raw and unrefined, she has no idea how powerful she could be. But he knew that wasn’t all it was, images of her pale lips, hypnotic smoky eyes, slender hands, delicate creamy skin, dark shiny hair, the dip between her collarbone and neck, the curve of her toned arms, for some reason kept invading his every thought, for some inexplicable reason his mind kept drawing him back to her.
Alexander descended into the plush private chamber that now belonged to him underneath the Spirit Temple. His spacious accommodation consisted of a study, a bedroom, a bathroom, a sitting room and a small kitchenette. His grandfather, Philip, had had the whole place overhauled when he had ascended to rule, but Alexander hadn’t even thought about changing it when it had been passed to him, he didn’t see the need, it functioned perfectly well and Philip had made it quite comfortable. Alexander pushed a small square at the side of the worn wooden panelling covering the wall at the back of his study, the only wall not covered in bookcases laden with pile after pile of Philip’s dusty manuscripts, and a secret door sprang open. He ducked through the door into the gloomy corridor behind, lit only by the occasional lantern, and began to follow it towards the chambers underneath the Temple of the Body.
Alexander’s mind wandered as he walked. He barely noticed the various twists and turns that he had to navigate through, his feet seeming to follow their own path, rousing from his thoughts only as he approached Christiana’s chambers and picked up the sound of muffled voices. The only people allowed down here were the Descendants, a small handful of trusted and very well paid servants, and occasionally a Councillor accompanied by a Descendant, but Alexander immediately recognised Austin’s harsh tones and Christiana’s weak replies, felt the unsettled energy from both of them, and knew something was wrong. Deciding it best to observe for a bit before wading in, he snuck forward as far as he dared without risking discovery, hid behind an ornate grey granite pillar where he could see what was going on, and listened.
‘I’ve got to find her. I have to tell her Austin. I know she’s here. What we did…’
‘You’re going to tell her?’ Austin spat. ‘I thought you just wanted to find her and see her. What good can telling her possibly do now?’
‘The energy. Once I’m gone, who knows what will happen. Only the Gods should have the power that we took. I’ll always regret it.’
Alexander felt what was going to happen next. Austin’s malicious, negative energy rose to unprecedented levels. Christiana felt it too, she had surprising Spirit skills for a Body. ‘Austin, she will find out. The prophecy will one day be fulfilled. The true bloodline will be restored.’
‘No, she won’t.’ Austin sneered, unpleasantly brushing Christiana’s words aside. ‘We’re the only two left that know the truth now Philip has gone. And soon it will just be me,’ his voice a terrifying mix of wistful longing and startling cruelty. Austin reached down and put his hand on the pillow next to Christiana’s head, his brutal intention plain. Christiana didn’t fight, she had accepted what was to come, her face relaxed, her energy calm, unconcerned with the predicament she now found herself in.
‘The true bloodline will be found Austin,’ Christiana repeated, her voice soft but insistent, like this was so obvious an observation that anyone would be a fool not to see it. ‘This is bigger than you. It’s in the hands of the Gods,’ she paused and looked openly up at Austin, her eyes still sparkling, full of life, a smile playing around her old lips, lined with age. ‘The Gods who you are about to help me join.’ Austin’s eyes flew open. He knew it. He had always suspected that she was a reader, it explained a lot. Austin grabbed the pillow and furiously covered Christiana’s face, using all his weight to hold it resolutely in place. Christiana didn’t struggle. She lay totally still until Alexander could feel her energy no longer. He could have intervened, should he have intervened? But being a reader she would have known he was there and she hadn’t appealed to him. He was more likely to be able to help fulfil her final wishes if he wasn’t at war with Austin, but now he knew exactly what Austin was capable of and it made him sick. He turned and left, quickly navigating back through the black corridors. He rushed into his chamber, swinging the panel swiftly and firmly closed behind him before retreating up into the Temple and out into the night as rapidly as he could. He vomited violently as he reached the cool night air, still not quite able to believe the act he had just witnessed. He left the Temples and somehow stumbled to the river before letting his legs give way, sinking gracelessly to the hard ground of the river bank. He sat all night, not feeling the cold or the damp that penetrated his clothes, feeling nothing, feeling numb, barely even hearing the gurgling of the river passing by. Eventually, as the sun started to rise, a greyish light beginning to illuminate the water, tears trickled their way down his cheeks as he held his head in his hands, staring into nothing, a deep sense of loss beginning to grow inside him.
Hours later, when the sun was fully in the sky, but blocked out by determined black clouds, casting a gloomy light over Empire, he got up and returned to his chamber, full of questions. What had Christiana meant about taking the power of the Gods into their own hands and about the bloodline and about the prophecy? Did Christiana have a female heir? Was that who Christiana had wanted to find? What had they done and why? Was Christiana not a rightful heir? Philip knew something and had never told him? Had Philip been involved in whatever this was? There were too many questions to answer all at once, but Alexander knew the place to start finding answers was in the Archives, which luckily were kept in Empire. An examination of the birth and death records was the best place to start.
*****
Ever since the encounter at The Island a few days before, Anita had been restless. People were gossiping about her and why she had attracted the Descendants’ attention, and she would really rather just fade into the background. She had gone to the Observatory every day and had been sullen and moody with Bas and Patr
ick and for that she felt bad, which made her even more frustrated. All she could think to do was turn to Body pursuits, but no amount of riding, sailing, climbing or swimming could seem to lift her mood. What was really annoying was that the Descendants had gone quiet since that night at The Island. Nobody had seen them or heard from them and even Cleo had nothing to share. They could be anywhere, they could have left Empire, nobody knew. Anita desperately wanted to understand why she reacted to the presence of Marcus and Alexander and how she could ‘control her energy’ as Alexander has suggested she should.
Today’s Body pursuit to try and lift her mood was a run by the river with her grandmother’s springer spaniel, Thorn. She hoped maybe the combination of exercise and playing with Thorn would do something to pick up her spirits. She was preoccupied with thoughts of embarrassing displays in bars when she felt someone with powerful energy coming up behind her. She was instantly wary. This had been her automatic reaction to most people since Alexander’s words in the Temple, so she was guarded as she spun round to see who it was.
Her energy immediately lifted when she saw Marcus’ blissful form coming towards her. For Gods’ sake, get a grip Anita, she said silently to herself, but this just seemed to spur on her energy’s disobedience and once again she felt like she might explode. Luckily, Marcus didn’t seem to have Alexander’s reader skills, so that should save her one embarrassment at least.
‘Well hello,’ came Marcus’ drawl as he approached. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘Hmm,’ Anita replied, feigning disinterest and calling to Thorn.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Marcus asked.
‘Umm…’ Anita was trying to think of a suitably offhanded replied when Marcus said, ‘great,’ smiling a cheeky smile that reminded Anita of a naughty five year old.
‘Right,’ she said, rolling her eyes as she set off at a fair clip across the field. Marcus kept pace with her, but he wasn’t in any state to make casual conversation along the way. Anita smirked as she increased the pace. They reached the fence and Anita jumped straight up on the stile, making to climb immediately over into the next field, but Marcus reached out a long, surprisingly strong hand, grabbed the back of her top and pulled her roughly back down.
‘I think that’s enough of that for the moment,’ he gasped dryly, trying to catch his breath. ‘You’ve made your point.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Anita retorted playfully. The run had improved her energy no end and now she was in a mischievous mood. She liked the way this encounter was going.
‘I think you’ve got a fair idea,’ Marcus fired back, seeming to have recovered enough to assume his usual, superior stance. ‘How did you get so fast?’
Anita shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, softening a bit. ‘I’ve always been fast and strong and able to beat anyone I’ve competed against. At first people thought I cheated, but now they just think I’m weird.’
‘Well I know what that feels like.’
Anita snickered. ‘What you feel is adoration and envy and jealousy. Nobody thinks you’re weird.’
‘What’s so different about how people treat me? People stare at me, they talk and point, they treat me differently…’
‘…ahh, the poor little Descendant…’ Marcus suddenly exploded forward so his face was inches from Anita’s, the smell of vanilla invading her lungs once more.
‘You think it’s funny? You haven’t got a clue.’
Bloody hell, his energy was more up and down than hers was. Anita was intrigued. ‘Then enlighten me,’ she said in a soft voice, starting to feel him infecting her emotions.
The side of Marcus’ mouth curled into a smile. He took a step forward and Anita instinctively stepped backwards, her route blocked by the tree behind her, her back now flat against its bark. There was nowhere for her to go and Marcus placed his arms either side of her to pin her in place. She was trapped and her pulse quickened. Marcus leaned his head forward to look straight into her eyes; he was enjoying this, he was back where he wanted to be and to her surprise, Anita quite liked it. Marcus relaxed and the mood between them shifted. There was a tension in the air as they waited for what seemed like forever to see what would happen next, their faces inches apart, eyes boring into each other. Anita could feel his breath on her skin, her pulse beating loudly in her ears, the smell of vanilla running through her, intoxicating and clouding her mind. She tilted her head up slowly towards his, holding his gaze, almost willing him, challenging him to pull away. Instead, he bowed his head warily towards hers, watching her cautiously, as though she were some kind of wild animal, as he moved his lips to hers. Their lips brushed lightly and Anita felt a powerful jolt of electric energy between them; she fought the urge to pull away as Marcus pressed his lips more purposefully into hers. He was surprisingly gentle she thought, as he moved his hands to either side of her face and kissed her more deeply. Anita relaxed, her mind racing, not sure if she were really in a dream, her lips responding willingly, seemingly without her instruction. He finally pulled back, slowly running his thumb across her now sensitive lips before replacing his hands on the tree either side of where she stood. He leaned back in towards her, flirting, making her think he was heading for her lips again, but this time moving his mouth at the last moment to her ear, where they softly commanded, ‘come to the ball with me.’
Anita froze, she had not expected that. A flurry of thoughts came pouring into her head and adrenaline fuelled panic filled her body. Given what had just happened she was struggling to think clearly, all she knew was that she had to buy herself some time. She looked down at the ground, searching for inspiration, before taking a deep breath and returning his gaze once more, a sly smile now on her face. She paused, savouring the moment of confused, impatient intrigue in his eyes. ‘Maybe,’ she murmured huskily, cocking one eyebrow, then quickly, before he had time to process her response, ducked under his arms out into the open field.
‘Maybe?’ Marcus questioned after her in indignant disbelief.
She put her fingers to her lips to touch where he had just kissed her, gazing fascinatedly back at him. ‘Maybe,’ she confirmed, sporting a triumphant look as she turned, called to Thorn and ran back the way they had come.
Marcus sank to the ground, leaning back against the tree trunk. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his perfectly quaffed hair. Why the Gods did he like her, he silently questioned himself. Nobody else would have done that. Most girls would have fallen over themselves to say yes to him, but Anita wasn’t like the other girls.
Anita’s mind exploded with thoughts as she ran. What should she do? She didn’t want to hurt Bas who she had already effectively turned down. She didn’t want all the other girls to hate her, or to have all the attention that going to the ball with Marcus would bring, but Anita had kissed plenty of guys and she had never felt an energy jolt like that before. In fact, she had never felt an energy jolt at all. She wondered if Marcus had felt it too. She decided it was best to try and avoid him for a few days as she practically sprinted all the way home; she wanted to put off the decision for as long as possible, not to mention that in situations like this it was definitely best to play hard to get. She had to admit there was something more than a little addictive about him and she didn’t want to put him off by being too available; she needed to see him again.
*****
Alexander had spent the last couple of days buried in the Archives. He had waded through all the birth and death records for the ten generations of Descendants before Christiana, but couldn’t find anything suspicious about her blood ties; it looked like she was authentic. So Alexander turned his attention to Christiana’s heirs. The problem was though, that although everyone else had to register babies with the relevant Council, Mind with Mind, Body with Body, Spirit with Spirit, the Descendants were able to simply enter the births of their heirs into the records themselves. There were two entries in Christiana’s line. First Peter on 21st May 1310 and then Gwyneth on 20th Ma
rch 1337. Again, it looked fine. The only mildly strange thing he could find was that for some reason they had waited for three days after Gwyn’s birth to enter her into the records. Other than that, there was nothing. No other children of Christiana had been entered, nor did it look like something had been entered and then scrubbed out. Alexander had drawn a blank.
He had also looked at the newspaper archive, hoping that something strange would show up in an article somewhere. There was an article about some woman dying from childbirth a few days after Gwyneth was born, not a regular occurrence but not unheard of, an article about a strange shipment of chocolate from the Wild Lands that had had to be burnt, again not regular, but no obvious connection, and an article about the bloodline and whether it was still intact, but you would expect that given Gwyneth’s unconventional line. Mind you, given the level of control that the Descendants had over the newspaper, it came as no real surprise to Alexander that there was nothing to be found.
As he was putting back the book that held the articles from March 1337, he absent mindedly moved further down the row of records. He found himself by the book for March 1340, the month his father, Marcus’ grandfather Tobias, and a woman called Clarissa, had all died in a fire in the Temple of the Body in Empire. Nobody knew why the woman and Alexander’s father Anthony had been there late into the night, but everyone assumed that Tobias had been in his chamber and that he’d come out to try and help when he’d realised there was a fire above. The whole thing was deeply suspicious and every time Alexander had tried to bring it up with Philip, he’d looked pained and swiftly changed the subject. Alexander’s mother Celia had died shortly afterwards, which everyone had attributed to a broken heart. His grandparents, Philip and Amelie, had brought him up, but he knew there was something Philip hadn’t told him and he desperately wanted to find out what that was. He had tried, of course, to find answers elsewhere, but he couldn’t think where to look other than in the Archives and family libraries. All information was so tightly controlled by the ruling Descendants that there was nowhere else he could really look. He had tried to identify other people to ask, who would have been around at the time, or who might be able to put him on to a new lead. The problem was there was no one obvious and he didn’t want to run the risk of getting some poor, unsuspecting person into trouble by probing where he shouldn’t.
