Souls of Fire

by Vanessa Black

  That Adam had survived that night was a miracle in itself and never ceased to amaze him. How he’d refrained from crying out in shock at the sight of such gruesome slaughter he couldn’t say. Somehow, he’d managed not to draw attention to himself.

  Keeping his face carefully hidden, his breathing in check and his suddenly shaking hands from showing, he’d remained concealed among the actual members of the society. Incredibly enough, he’d followed them back out of the tunnel, his trembling knees nearly but thankfully not giving out from under him.

  By a stroke of luck that had undoubtedly saved his life, some members had kept their robes on instead of returning them to the closet, allowing him to do the same. Had he been forced to take it off, he would have been the next in line to get his head chopped off.

  Under the cloak of darkness that had fallen since they’d been underground, he’d fallen behind the last of the members and carefully slipped behind a tree and out of sight, sliding down the trunk and catching his panicked breath. He’d waited there for what had felt like hours before he’d developed the courage to return to his dorm room, afraid someone might see him after all.

  That was the night that had changed his life, the gathering Adam had witnessed had burned itself into his memory. He hadn’t wanted to replay the tragic scene he’d witnessed.

  In fact, he’d tried very hard to empty his mind of any images relating to that incident. But the memories he’d so desperately tried to suppress had an uncanny way of resurfacing when he least expected it.

  In the end, Adam had realized that the harder he tried to forget, the more impressions vividly crept up on him.

  Therefore, since suppressing hadn’t helped, and because he’d felt that he’d failed the girl because he’d been too cowardly to stand up and accuse her murderers, Adam had decided that the only way to avenge her murder was to find out everything he possibly could about the society, in the hope that, one day, he would have the means to bring them all down.

  And so he’d made it his life’s mission to uncover the truth about the ‘Haven’, the name he’d discovered along the way. But in his pursuit of the truth, he’d found truths he wished with all his heart never to have uncovered. What a beautiful gift obliviousness could be…

  Gazing at the magnificent and powerful object resting innocently on the surface of the table, Adam re-emerged out of his reminiscence and reverently moved closer to the table, slowly closing the distance.

  Lying before him, and emanating a hidden surge of power undetectable by Adam ― though he had read of its existence during his research on the object at hand ― was the most beautiful and simultaneously dangerous book Adam had ever beheld.

  The book was roughly twenty inches in diameter. The cover was made of genuine leather, light brown in color and soft to the touch. On the front of the cover was a mysterious-looking rune depicted in black ink. Beneath it, in the exact center of the cover, the intricate image of a rose was burned into the leather.

  Notwithstanding the noticeable worn look of the antique book, it possessed an exceptional beauty. What made it special wasn’t its soft leather cover or the fact that it was an antique.

  What made it special was the fact that the rose on the cover emitted a soft, strangely alluring glow. This otherworldly radiance and the volume’s general appearance commanded reverence.

  It was time to tell Aaron where he came from, who he was, and in which way this deceivingly innocent-looking book was directly connected to his fate and the fate of the world.

  He would take Aaron aside as soon as he arrived at his house. The time for hesitation was over. Adam could no longer risk the knowledge he held to be lost in obscurity.

  Not when he held the key ― perhaps the only hope if indeed such a hope still existed ― to stop or undo the unraveling of his beloved world.

  Yes, he thought, it’s time … Adam’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a series of violent thrashing sounds coming from the direction of the back entrance below.

  Since Adam had no household staff ― he was in no position to trust anyone ― and was the only person in the house, he knew without a doubt that trouble had finally caught up with him.

  And it seemed that trouble was not going to crash through the window after all, it was knocking down the back door.

  Trying not to panic, Adam swiftly fled the circular room, carefully restoring the telltale book to its upright and unassuming position on the bookcase. As the door to the circular room was again sealed shut with a quiet clicking sound, Adam ran various options through his mind.

  The resounding thrashing sounds from the floor below became more violent. Hesitating for the space of a heartbeat, Adam ran to his desk, wrenched open a drawer and hastily scribbled something on a piece of paper which he then shoved unceremoniously into an envelope.

  The back door came crashing to the floor with an enormous thundering sound that reverberated through the hall and up the stairs, the following deadly silence chilling Adam to his very core.

  Refusing to pause long enough for the meaning of this sudden silence to sink in, Adam had just enough time to scribble something on a small piece of paper and on the face of the envelope and hide the envelope in a favorite book of his and Aaron’s ― hoping against hope that Aaron would thumb through it and find that which was only his to find ― before the door of his study thundered open and his doom came rushing through the door…

  Chapter 7 * Secret Passage

  I was extremely uncomfortable, sitting in Aaron’s car and watching different scenes shift outside my window while Aaron sped along the forever stretching road in silent contemplation.

  We hadn’t spoken above three or four words since we had ― literally ― been shocked into silence. The previous discussion had been postponed until we could talk to Adam Wright.

  I didn’t know what to make of any of it. And frankly, I didn’t give a damn. That was strictly untrue, of course, even if I would have liked to talk myself into feeling that way.

  The truth was: I needed to find out what the hell was going on. That didn’t mean I had to like the idea of going anywhere with Aaron Chambers, though, ― and alone for that matter.

  Given an alternative, I would have preferred spending my time far away from him and all the complications his presence brought to my life.

  I didn’t want to be thinking of his lips on mine every time I closed my eyes. But want it or not, I couldn’t stop feeling his touch. Or the exhilarating sensation of his fingertips on my bare skin, when he’d had me pressed up against the trunk of the old oak.

  What is wrong with you! I silently screamed at myself, letting out a very audible frustrated sigh, not realizing I’d made any sound at all until Aaron asked me what was going on.

  “Nothing,” I answered a little too hastily after clearing my throat.

  Obvious much? I chastised myself.

  Absorbed again in my own thoughts, I only just heard Aaron muttering something along the lines of “Right” before silence once again settled between us like an unwanted house guest.

  This was going to be a really long drive, I thought morosely, closing my eyes and trying to let go of the tension I was feeling … and trying not to have any unwanted ― or possibly wanted ― fantasies about a specific person, which was turning out to be incredibly difficult when the smell of his aftershave kept creeping into my nostrils and ambushing me.

  After what felt like a lifetime or two, we finally reached Newport, the home of Adam Wright, and pulled into a graveled driveway leading up to a stately home, a beautiful old brick mansion with a well-manicured lawn. We climbed out of the car and made our way up the driveway toward the front entrance of the massive house.

  While Aaron rang the doorbell, I tried to sneak a careful peek through the translucent glass panes of the elegant front door. There was nothing more interesting to see, though, than a long hallway leading into a seemingly larger room at the back of the house and a staircase running up to the first floor.

&
nbsp; While I waited for a shadow to pass in front of the glass, announcing the arrival of the professor to answer the door, the seconds ticked by … nobody arrived.

  “Maybe he’s in the shower … or on the toilet,” I suggested while Aaron rang the doorbell once more, his eyes fixed on the closed door of the garage which stood next to the house, an expression of concern starting to show in his features.

  “His car’s in the garage, I’m sure of it,” Aaron began, “He always leaves the garage door open when he leaves. And anyway, he wouldn’t just leave when he’s expecting us,” Aaron concluded. “Let’s check around the back,” he continued, “could be he fell asleep on the couch again and didn’t hear the bell.”

  I nodded and followed Aaron to the back of the house. Abruptly, only a few steps from the back door, I ran straight into Aaron’s back and nearly fell over as he had stopped in mid-step.

  I was about to complain vehemently when his hand shot out of nowhere, covering my mouth, while he maneuvered us into a crouching position directly behind an unevenly stacked pile of fire-wood, thus keeping us out of plain sight.

  “Shhh,” he whispered in my ear so quietly that I felt goose-bumps spring up all over my body, making the fine transparent hairs on my arms stand up. The way Aaron had just reacted, and the undercurrent of anxiety in his voice, made me suddenly afraid.

  After nodding my head, signaling that I wouldn’t make any noise, Aaron slowly released his grip on me and gestured in the direction of the back door.

  At last my gaze was unobstructed and able to take in the full extent of the destruction before me. What was left of the once beautifully lacquered wooden door was completely bashed in and deformed.

  Furthermore, large sections of the door seemed to have been violently shredded by some inconceivable force. Wooden splinters were sticking out where the wood had been ripped apart, splinters and sawdust littered the floor, and the deformed, shredded remnants of the door hung in a terribly dilapidated posture on the only hinge that hadn’t given in to the unimaginable onslaught.

  My heart beat wildly in my chest. Something was terribly wrong!

  As quietly as we could, we made our way to the entrance and paused, listening intently into the silence of the house.

  “Let’s take a look inside,” Aaron began.

  “You’ve got to be joking!” I hissed under my breath. “We have to call the police! We don’t even know whom or what we’re dealing with. I’ve never seen anything like this … have you?” I ended on a slightly hysterical note. “What if whoever did this isn’t gone? Someone could be just waiting for us to be stupid enough to walk through this door ― or what’s left of it.”

  “Listen,” Aaron whispered gently, “Since none of us has a cell phone, we’ll have to use Adam’s phone … if we want to call the police. So we need to go inside anyway.”

  I thought about this, and had to admit ― at least to myself ― that he had a point. Still, I would have rather run for cover and made the phone call a safe distance away from this house, but I got the distinct impression that Aaron’s insistence to check out the inside arose out of the need to find out if Adam Wright was okay.

  Even though he hadn’t talked much about the professor, I sensed a closer connection between the two men. The concern in Aaron’s voice suggested friendship at the least. How deep this friendship was, I could only guess at.

  “Alright … but you’re going in first,” I said, grinning slightly despite the dire circumstances.

  “As if I would let you go ahead of me with a potential madman on the loose …,” Aaron said archly.

  “You never know,” I teased.

  “I’m touched,” Aaron countered.

  He slowly led the way through the entryway, both of us carefully navigating around the various debris scattered across the floor. There was nobody on the first floor, so we headed back to the hall where the flight of stairs led to the second story.

  There was no sign as yet of any intruder or of the owner of the house. Climbing the stairs very carefully, so as not to give ourselves away by means of creaky wooden steps, we finally reached the upper floor.

  We cautiously turned into the first open doorway and found ourselves in what seemed to be a study. I hardly had any time to look around when Aaron, who was a couple of paces in front of me, suddenly rushed forward and around a stately desk, and fell to his knees besides something that by the looks of it could only be a body.

  I stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do, while Aaron bent over the body. Coming closer, I could see an older man with grey and white hair and beard and a rather large belly lying on the floor in an awkward position.

  His crumpled form was drenched in blood. The floor around him was showered in crimson specks, and a fine red dusting lay on the surrounding furniture and paraphernalia.

  The professor’s eyes were closed ― a small blessing in my book as I was already struggling with the dreadfulness of the situation. Had I been confronted with blank soulless eyes staring up into space, I would have probably lost it.

  Aaron was seemingly shocked beyond words, his body rocking back and forth, his hands reaching out continually to try to touch the sad lifeless form of his friend.

  Every time his hands nearly made contact, he hesitated and pulled them back again, apparently afraid to further injure him ― though he wouldn’t have felt it anymore ― or perhaps fearing once his hands made actual contact there would be no more denying the inescapable truth of his friend’s demise.

  Aaron’s face was distorted, a mixture of pain and white-hot rage, his eyes streaming with unshed tears. Finally he could hold it in no longer, the tears flowing freely and silently down his face as his trembling hand gently stroked the professor’s hair, inadvertently creating a pattern of red and white stripes as his fingers wove fine drops of blood into the white hairs.

  My heart was slowly breaking in response to this devastating scene. It seemed I had misjudged the essence of the men’s relationship. The grief I was witnessing suggested more of a father-son relationship than mere friendship.

  There was nothing I could say, nothing I could possibly do to comfort him in this impossible situation. We were not friends, most certainly not lovers, and I didn’t know the first thing about him.

  And though his grief was a devastating and heart-wrenching thing to behold, I was nothing more than an outsider to his misery, a detached stranger with nothing more to offer than to stand in inadequate silence and watch while his world fell apart.

  I had never before felt so utterly useless. Lovers or not, friends or not, it didn’t matter, I finally decided. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t find the right words.

  Because there were no right words.

  Because nothing would take away the pain.

  The only thing that mattered, the only thing I could do, was show him that I cared.

  To hell with convention, I thought as I knelt beside Aaron and held him, silently cradling his trembling body as though he were a child.

  And for a moment, it seemed as though I had actually comforted him.

  For a moment, he seemed soothed.

  For a moment, I almost thought I could feel his pain through our connecting bodies.

  And then he seemed to have come to his senses and regained control, pushing me away in a somewhat brusque manner. Holding his arms out toward me a moment later in an apologetic gesture, he said:

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to react so … but I just can’t …” The rest of the sentence trailed off.

  I stood back, stunned by his sudden and severe reaction. Deep down, I knew I should have expected this, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t thought it through, I had merely reacted.

  My heart had gone out to him, and I had leaped to his ‘rescue’ never thinking about how he would feel ― exposed … embarrassed to be showing emotions in front of an interloper, an intruder on his grief, when society dictated men to be strong, never to shed a tear.

  And though I had guessed
it might be slightly inappropriate to comfort him in such an intimate manner, being no more than a stranger to him, I had somehow assumed that it was the right thing to do. I had listened to my heart and had trusted my instincts…

  I should have learned by now not to trust my instincts when it came to him.

  Even though I understood his reaction and knew full well that I had crossed a line and that I had only myself to blame, I couldn’t help but feel slightly hurt. I had acted out of the goodness of my heart, and the solace I had offered had been pushed aside, rejected, as though it meant nothing.

  Trying not to let on how keenly I felt his rebuff, I said in an accepting voice:

  “It’s okay, I understand,” before quickly turning my back on him, feeling the need to hide my eyes which were already starting to fill with traitorous tears.

  Fearing my shaking voice and the gigantic lump in my throat might betray me, I kept silent, pretending to gaze about the room, though in reality seeing nothing but blurred outlines as my eyes were brimming with tears I refused to let fall.

  I didn’t want him to see my tears. I had no right to cry, I knew that. Not now that Aaron’s friend was lying still and cold on the floor. Aaron had the right to grieve the way he wanted, needed, without being pressured by tears.

  No, I had no right to cry ― be that as it may, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing; I was too emotional to be rational. When it came to him, I couldn’t help it ― I liked him … wanted to be close to him.

  Finally drying my eyes, my back still turned, I vowed not to overstep my bounds again. If he meant to keep me at arm’s length, then I would respect that. Having regained control over my emotions, I finally turned around again.

  Aaron sat kneeling over the body of his friend, his gaze wandering aimlessly over him. When his stance suddenly changed, I could tell by the look on his face that he had just made some kind of discovery.

  “What is it?” I asked, walking cautiously toward him in order to see what was going on.

  “He’s got something in his fist. It looks like a crumpled up piece of paper or something,” Aaron stated, reaching out with his hand to try and get the object out of Adam Wright’s tightly clenched fist.