by Emma Hamm
Lydia chuckled once Louis closed the door behind him. “Did you notice he got one last glance in before closing that?”
“Yes I did,” Pitch grumbled.
“He’s a dear soul, but he worries far too much for his own health.”
“His father doesn’t.”
Pitch shifted them. He moved up to the headboard himself, arranging her so he could wrap both arms around her too thin form. “You’ve lost weight again.”
“I’ve been sleeping.”
“I showed him how to hook you up to the feeder.”
“I think he wanted to make sure I was completely asleep before doing that. I don’t like waking up to needles.”
He didn’t like seeing her hooked up to machines either. Lydia had been weak for far too long, but he didn’t know how to strengthen her. He wasn’t certain if she would ever get stronger.
“I wasn’t gone that long,” he said.
“You were gone for a few weeks, Pitch.”
“What?”
“Time is warping for you too, I think.”
“I hope not, we have too much work to do for Time to warp.” He stroked the soft skin of her arms. “But I didn’t know I was gone that long.”
“I had other visions.”
Of course she had. Pitch longed for a time when their conversations didn’t comprise saving the world, visions, and doomsday plans. That would not be this day.
“Tell me.”
She stroked his chest, smoothing her hands down the soft fabric. “We’re too late. Malachi is already gathering his forces. He’s pulling together too many people from too many places.”
“So we need to distract him. Diverting his attention elsewhere would slow him down.”
“That was my thought.” He felt her lips curve against his neck. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and the only way to slow him down is a prophecy.”
“A prophecy?”
“Four people who are destined to save the world.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “The two you had me save will obviously be part of this.”
“They’re the best choices. I haven’t seen the other two though. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Legion.”
“Who?” She lifted to search for his gaze.
“The last creature alive I created. My siblings were usually quick to destroy anything which was not dark. But this one, somehow, survived. I didn’t even know the Legion still existed.”
“Oh,” a brilliant smile stretched across her lips. “I can make that work. I’ve seen them, in the future and the past. They can split into multiple creatures or stay as one host.”
“I believe that’s how they survived this long.”
He tucked her back against him, crossing his ankles. He wanted to stay like this forever. With her tucked against his side, he felt invincible.
“Have you given the prophecy any thought?”
“Yes I think I know how I want it to be said.”
“Go ahead, bright one.”
“Lost in a crowd is the creature that binds,
It is they who have lost all of their minds.
Beneath the ground is the creature who protects,
Carved and scarred by all it detests.
Forgotten in moss is the creature that sees,
One who destroys, ruins, and decrees.
Hidden in smoke is the creature that kills,
Riddled with boxes, magic, and pills.
Flesh and blood connects them together,
It is they who stop the rising aggressor.”
Pitch felt a cold chill run down his spine. Lydia hadn’t spoken those words in her usual voice, but that of an Oracle. Magic turned the air to static, brushing against his psyche with tingling sparks.
“Lydia?”
“Yes?”
“That wasn’t a prophecy you just made up, was it?”
“I thought it was.” She shivered. “But that didn’t feel like it.”
Sil hadn’t been an Oracle. She had seen the future, but prophetic visions was an entirely different gift. Lydia wasn’t just telling the future with those words, nor was she changing it. She was committing herself, and others, to ensuring the future she wanted came true.
Prophecies were dangerous things. Considering the amount of magic Pitch felt in the air, he worried she had tied her very life to ensuring it came true.
She was just a bland human when he first picked her up. Pathetic and weak-minded in his eyes, but now he saw how wrong he was. No average woman could have suffered as she had and survived. No, thrived, he realized.
He picked her hand up, staring at the lean fingers against his. They were both far too pale, their skin inhuman and paper thin.
“We are far from human,” he said while tucking her head under his chin.
“Are you suggesting I’m a god like you?”
“The correct term is ‘goddess’, darling.”
She shook her head. “A blind, horned, goddess who sees the future but can’t decipher it enough to make a difference. The world is fucked, Pitch.”
“Not yet. Who am I telling this prophecy to? Just anyone won’t spread the word enough for it to make it to the right ears.”
“I thought of that too. The only way to really spread it, is to go right to the top.”
He sighed. “The Five?”
“The Five.”
“I don’t want to do that,” he grumbled.
She tossed a leg over his, simultaneously stopping his heart and giving him reason to breathe. “They don’t remember you.”
“Excuse me?”
“They think you’re dead. And when you show up with an Oracle who will tell them my exact words, they won’t put the pieces together. Your face, your power, has been forgotten in lieu of larger things.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. But then again, Pitch couldn’t remember when he had liked the sound of anything when Sil’s magic was involved.
“So I’m going to just waltz into the Five’s stronghold, toss an Oracle at them with a prophecy and then… what?”
“They will tell everyone who needs to know.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Their future is foggy,” Lydia said with a wrinkled brow. “I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s like they’re hiding their future. A shield, somehow, has formed over their threads.”
“I’ve never trusted them. They’re just as bad as my siblings, perhaps worse because they hide behind a veil of righteousness.”
She nodded her agreement. Together, they huddled on her bed and planned their first steps to saving the future. He did not leave until she fell into a deep sleep to ensure the changes they made would stick. The instant she did not wake, he missed her.
Lydia stumbled out of her bedroom, feeling energy and power coursing through her veins. This time was different. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t shaking. She felt as though a live wire had been pressed against her skin, making her hands shake and her mind buzz.
This was how Sil felt all the time. Lydia wasn’t sure how she knew it, but this static energy was more powerful than ever.
She didn’t need to sleep again. She didn’t need to travel the webs of Time, she was time.
Although she was nearly blind, Lydia could see the world in a different way. Everything sparkled with life, be it inanimate object or living creature. Louis sparkled with vibrant light green, his happiness contagious and sending sparks into the air. Even the house had white veins reaching out from its heart. Perhaps it wasn’t dead after all, just wounded.
Walking still wasn’t easy. She clutched the railing, but wasn’t certain she needed it. If the light would stop moving, she could make out the stairs. But the shimmers were constantly running from the center of the house.
Magic was like blood. It had to travel around the entire building, or person, to give it life. Maybe Pitch was right, she realized. Surely only a goddess could see the world like this.
“That’s
a trip,” she muttered. “Me. A goddess.”
She certainly didn’t picture a woman like herself when she thought of the divine. But at the very least, she wouldn’t let a stairwell beat her. Grumbling the entire way, Lydia took each step carefully and finally made it to the ground floor.
It was foolish to be proud of that, but she was. She hadn’t even been able to walk for over a hundred years now. And here she was, blind, and managing three flights of stairs. That had to count as an achievement.
Except now she didn’t know where to go. She squinted her pale eyes, trying to see through the many layers of moving lights. Time was passing into her vision as well. Lydia was certain the vase in the corner wasn’t moving, but she could see its sparkling lights tumbling to the ground and smashing into pieces.
“Now where are you going to go?”
She wondered how he hid himself from her gaze. “I thought I might go for a walk.”
“A walk?” His footsteps echoed behind her. She tilted her head to the side, listening for his movements but not attempting to see him. “When you can hardly make your way down the stairs?”
“I can see just fine when I want to.”
“You were staring at that vase like it was going to jump out at bite you.”
She grinned. “I can see sort of all right.”
Lydia turned carefully, balancing herself with a hand on the piano. She could see him now. A great mass of dark magic, like a storm cloud rolling over the plains. But within that blackness, she saw thousands of stars.
“Oh Pitch,” she sighed. “You have nebulas in your fingertips.”
“Is that how you see now?” He strode forward, intimidating and powerful. “In magic?”
“I don’t know what I’m seeing,” she tilted so she could see him as he grew closer. When he was inches away, she could finally see him normally. Though he was fuzzy, she knew the lines of his face as though they were her own. She lifted a hand and traced a finger down the bridge of his nose. “But I would know you without eyes.”
He trailed a hand down her arm, lifted it above her head, and spun her around. She leaned back into his chest. Her horns fit into the hollows of his collarbones perfectly, taking the tiring weight off of her skull.
His arms wrapped around her waist. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than ever. I don’t think I need to sleep again.”
“Good. Because you’ve been asleep for quite a few years.”
“Years?” Lydia winced. “I thought that was over with.”
“Sounds like it was the last big rest your body needed.”
“Do I look any different?”
His hands glided over the silken nightgown. He traced the lines of her waist, the hollow of her hips, the backs of her hands. “Yes. I don’t know how to describe it because there is no physical differences precisely. You’re glowing, Lydia, like you’ve been dusted in diamonds.”
“Now you’re just being fanciful.”
“I most certainly am not,” he spun her around again, trapping her palms against his chest. “You are lovely.”
“And you’re in a very good mood.”
She hadn’t seen him like this before. His shadows practically danced with light, their nebulas swirling in the depths of his soul. She thought, perhaps, this was what his happiness looked like.
“I am,” Pitch held her hands against him and swayed. The piano played a quiet melody. “I have a plan, and you woke up just at the right time.”
“I did?”
He led her into a waltz, gracefully leading her around furniture and over uneven flooring. “I invited Malachi to my club.”
“Excuse me?” She almost stumbled in shock.
“He’s been rather impatient lately, considering no one has been found to solve that prophecy of yours. Rumors have spread, saying that the prophecy isn’t real. I thought we’d give him a reason to believe it again.”
“And we’re doing that by inviting him to meet us?”
“No, we’re inviting him to meet Wren.”
“Wren?”
Her mind was whirling. What was he going on about? He jumped from topic to topic, and she had missed so much.
“The Legion I told you about.”
“Legion is a woman?”
“Considering it has thousands of souls, I would think at least half of them are women.”
“I mean the woman its possessing, Pitch.”
“Ah, yes,” he turned them gracefully around a corner. “Wren is female.”
“Should I be jealous?” It was a foolish question, but she felt a burning ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away.
Lydia wouldn’t blame him. She was asleep for years at a time, and though they needed each other, they had never defined any part of their relationship. For all she knew, he still thought of her as a prisoner.
And she was. She couldn’t breathe deeply enough to ease the sudden panic. She was still just a tool in his end game, the last bit of Sil who could help him fulfill his destiny. Then perhaps he would go back to his creations, or back to his club. Her time of usefulness would eventually come to an end.
He waltzed them into his office. She couldn’t see his face anymore, he had leaned too far back for that. All she could look into was the abyss of his magic, still swirling with happiness.
Had another woman put that there?
“I will not lie to you,” he murmured as they danced backward. “I always flirt with other women. I always charm them, perhaps even touch them, to get what I want.”
Her spine stiffened.
“But I will never,” they slowed as they neared his desk, “ever, look at anyone else with desire.” He lifted her onto his desk, papers and pens flying. “You are the light to my darkness, the song to my silence. You have nothing to worry about, bright one.”
“When did you start calling me bright one?” she asked, her fingers ghosting over his features. He was smiling. His lips curled against her palms, pressing chaste kisses against her fingertips.
“About the time I realized just how important you were to me.”
Lydia arched a brow. “Do you want something from me, or are you being serious?”
“A little bit of both.”
The wicked grin he flashed made her pulse racing. A lock of dark hair fell, the same lock which always drifted into his eyes at the perfect moment. She might have scolded him if it wasn’t for her breath catching.
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
“Am I doing what?”
“Your hair, Pitch.”
He tilted his head to the side, playfully thinking about her question. His hands flexed against her hips, fingers searching for ticklish areas where he might once more gain the advantage. Lydia did not let him find any. She locked her hands behind the back of his neck and gave him a forceful shake.
He burst into laughter. “All right, I admit. I might use sexual appeal to my advantage now and then.”
“Sexual appeal?” Lydia snorted. “You’re giving yourself far too much credit, my phantom.”
“I’m wounded!”
He slid her forward, stepping into the vacant space between her legs. One of his hands slid down her spine while the other tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come out with me tonight.”
“Out?” She raised an eyebrow. “Were you serious about letting me go?”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“You haven’t let me out of this house for hundreds of years, Pitch.”
“Has it been that long?”
He knew exactly how long it had been, she was certain of it. Lydia had fairly counted the hours she had been entombed in this gothic abode. The idea of leaving, of getting a chance to see the world again, was both overwhelming and exciting.
Her stomach clenched. Her fingers curled against his neck. But she wouldn’t allow anxiety to stop her from experiencing the world once more.
“Why do you want me there?”
“I want you to see her.
I want you to see the beginning of what you set into motion thousands of years ago. And I want you to see Malachi.”
“Malachi? That’s who you want me to see?”
“I think it’s important.”
“Explain.”
The outside world was intimidating, frightening even. She hadn’t even liked to go out when she was a Red Blood. Crowds and so many people had always made her breath catch and her palms sweaty. There were too many uncontrollable things in crowds.
Someone could slip a drug into her drink. She could go to the bathroom and be kidnapped on her way back out. Even something as simple as people laughing at her tripping on her own feet made her want to vomit.
None of these concerns felt as scary as before. Pitch’s shadows were already enveloping her, smoothing along her skin in a soothing caress. He would never let her feel as though she were the odd person out. He would never let her forget she was a Goddess in his eyes.
He leaned forward, pressing his nose into the base of her throat and inhaling deeply. “I can’t explain it, Lydia. There’s something inside my head saying it’s important you see him. You really see him.”
“We already know he’s not the mastermind behind all this madness. Do you think seeing him will trigger some kind of vision?”
“I don’t think you need a trigger. I think you just need time to unravel all the tangled webs of time rattling around in your head.”
“Then why?”
Pitch tightened his arms, pulling her flush against his chest. “I wish I knew.”
He was trembling, and Lydia understood why. Her fingers danced over his shoulder blades as she mused how the times had changed. He was willingly putting her in harm’s way because he had a feeling it was important.
Every fiber of his body must be shouting to not let her do this. He had always wanted to keep her locked away in her room, a pretty bauble only he could play with. Lydia had seen this in this Past, in this Present they shared with each other, and she knew she would forever deal with it in their Future.
She wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“I will be fine,” she whispered against his shoulder. “You won’t let anything happen.”
“Never.”
Relief made her knees weak and her mind thankful she was sitting down. She had never had anyone looking out for her. Not like this. Lydia was pleased she could experience this kind of loyalty before she died.
