Gravitational Pull (Vis Vires, book 2) (Vis Vires trilogy)

by Marissa Carmel

  Glitter in the Air

  I wake to a splash of cold water.

  “What the…!” I jump as icy droplets run down my face.

  “We couldn’t wake you up,” Jocelyn giggles. “You were deader than a rock.”

  “I feel like I’ve been stoned, if it’s any consolation,” I tell her, as I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand.

  Jet lag.

  “We’re late!” She nudges me urgently.

  “Late? Late for what?” I drop my head back down onto the pillow.

  “The festival!” Jocelyn is awake with excitement, while I’m dead tired to the world.

  “Get up!” She and Melenia attempt to drag me out of bed, but my body goes limp in protest.

  Determined, they overpower me and shove me into the bathroom.

  “Shower,” Melenia orders. Bossy, bossy.

  I wash myself quickly, feeling frazzled and strained, then scurry out of the bathroom where the two of them are waiting. An outfit for me is already laid out on the bed.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” Jocelyn quips. “Not at all,” I respond alike.

  I dress in the grey acid-washed skinny jeans and navy blue eyelash lace tank top.

  She knows what’s in my suitcase better than I do.

  “I think these will go perfect,” she pulls out the Valentino crystal-embellished suede and mesh platform peep-toe pumps I have been lusting after for weeks. I squeal.

  “I can wear them!?”

  She nods. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to let you borrow them. And this is definitely it.”

  I am suddenly awake, lively and ready to conquer the world.

  It’s amazing what a pair of shoes can do.

  The three of us strut down the blood red hallway that’s warm more than it is intimidating, and make our way back down the winding staircase. Once outside, I breathe in the thick scent of summer rain. Amazing. Century city is dark now; shadows drape the Romanesque buildings and the silvery sky has morphed into a purple star-studded night. As we wait for a coach, I take notice of the overly intriguing moon, its two moons really, a full white orb with a gold crescent hugging one side. Beautiful. Jocelyn and Melenia usher me into another Cinderella carriage that takes off toward Saint Nikolas’ sanctuary.

  I can’t see anything in dark, but like earlier, I can feel the life surrounding me. It is even more potent now. The energy is churning, tickling, and terrifying me all at the same time.

  I close my eyes and swallow a few breaths in an attempt to even myself out. I can control it, I tell myself.

  I feel Jocelyn and Melenia’s concerned eyes boring into me. “I’m fine,” I say reassuringly, before one of them can ask if

  I’m okay.

  As I center myself, it slowly comes into view. The Flower festival. Through the trees, bright moonlight blankets the celebration, creating a natural, celestial cover.

  A bustling, fairytale–like crowd catches my eye as we pull up to the party. The coach halts, and the door is opened by a dignified pixie man. Jocelyn and Melenia step out first, assisted by the pixie, and when he takes my hand to help me, he acts shocked. He bobbles, giving me a strange, measuring look. After a moment he pulls it together and returns to his stately manner.

  It’s the oddity of me in his world that astounds him. He is just as fascinated with me as I am with him.

  When he lets go of my hand, his gaze lingers. And he isn’t the only one who stares.

  As we walk over a gold footbridge and into a landscape that could rival the Gardens of Versailles, exotic eyes measure me from every direction.

  “I feel really uncomfortable,” I faux-sing to Melenia as we walk through a mass of mingling pixies.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “After the initial shock, it will

  die down. Just act cool and stay by us.”

  Like I’d be anywhere else.

  I suction myself to Jocelyn and Melenia, shyly taking in the Brothers Grimm environment and the goings on of the night.

  The pixie population is diverse and yet so alike, some are very tall, some very small. But all are lean and willowy, with pointed ears and almond eyes. Melenia, though, isn’t much like them at all, she stands out. Her build is strong and muscular; guardian- like. She resembles more of the sentries stationed all around the festival. They’re strapping, not to mention intimidating. Highly attentive and steadfast. And dark inside, the same way she is.

  “Why are you different?” I ask her, wanting to understand.

  She looks at me with a fierce face. “I am a member of the royal guard. We are unique and we’re Devonshire’s only protection.”

  “Isn’t there magic here? Can’t that protect you?” I ask naively. “To a certain extent.” She sweeps her head around and looks out over the crowd. “Creatures can come into our realm,” she

  says somberly. “But we cannot penetrate theirs.” “Then how…”

  “Only the Guard can pass between worlds,” she looks back at me, answering my question. “The Vis Vires made it so.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “There are protectors within the realm and those that are beyond. It is the best defense for our people,” she says softly.

  I feel that this saddens her.

  “How long have you been protecting outside the realm?” I ask sympathetically.

  “Too long to remember.”

  “Were you born in Devonshire?”

  She looks at me with a longing expression. “Yes.” “Do you miss it here?” I inquire.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Being with Derrin doesn’t feel like home?” She smirks. “Sometimes.”

  I look down. “Being with Justice always felt like home.” I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me an empathetic look.

  Invasive thoughts raid my mind as that day plays over and over in my head. What made him change? It’s the question just I can’t seem to find the answer to, no matter how hard I search.

  “I think it’s time for a drink,” Melenia announces, pulling me from my reflection.

  I sigh: the be-all, end-all solution.

  But I don’t really want a drink; I just want to be alone.

  Bravely, I inch out on my own. I can see dancing in the distance and I want a closer look.

  “Liv,” Melenia grabs my arm before I trace off. “Remember what I told you.”

  I nod to let her know I understand. Magically impaired psychic, having an identity crisis, whose secret name is Rumpelstiltskin. She releases my arm. “Have fun,” she says with a carefree smile, then gets lost in the crowd.

  As I walk through the swarm and around the labyrinth of flowerbeds, it’s clear the festival isn’t the only spectacle around. I receive blatant stares and glances as I maneuver through the people (I mean pixies) wandering towards the dancing mass. The inquisitive energy spikes. You know that saying, ‘men want to be with her and women want to be like her?’ That’s what it feels like now. Although I don’t understand why; pixie women are beautiful and exotic, I’m just plain Liv.

  Plain. Old. Boring. Can’t-control-your-own-power-and-now- you’re-all-alone. Loser. Liv.

  I brush the emotion of abandonment to the side.

  His leaving is my new beginning, I remind myself harshly.

  I concentrate on getting closer to the dancers, and as I do, I catch faint glints of glitter drizzling from the sky. It swirls around floor as they move, creating an ever-changing and enchanting masterpiece. I let myself fall under its spell. The dance is a fashion reminiscent of a medieval ball. The music is modern, and the people contemporary, but their movements are all so old world. The whole festival is implausibly ideal, and fantastically romantic.

  “Would you like to dance?” A graceful voice asks from my left side. He is standing slightly behind me, so I have to turn to find who is asking. Standing there is a beautifully regal pixie man. He is tall, with the same facial features as Melenia, long, silvery
hair tied back in a ponytail and platinum eyes to match. I glance at the dancers and then back at the mysterious pixie, unsure. Even with all my dancing background I don’t think I could pull off a routine like that.

  “That’s okay, I like to watch,” I tell him, then turn my attention back to the performers.

  “Not from around here?” He asks.

  “That obvious?” I snicker, still looking at the dancers. “What gave it away? The round eyes and ears?”

  I hear him grunt as if amused, and when I turn around he is smiling, his eyes completely alight.

  “I’m Siberian,” he holds out his hand.

  “Liv.” We shake and as we touch his foreign energy spreads up my arm. It’s lively and wild, and such a stark contrast to his seemingly self-possessed façade

  “Liv…?” he inquires further.

  “Just Liv,” I tell him hearing Melenia’s voice screaming in my head. “You know, like Prince or Cher.”

  “Who?” He blinks at me vacantly. “No one,” I chuckle. “Human humor.”

  “Well, Just Liv, if you don’t want to dance, how about a drink?”

  A drink? I stand there measuring up the pixie who’s looking at me so gallantly and yet so menacingly. Every cell in the sea of my body is telling me to stay away. He’s dangerous, but I don’t care. All of a sudden I want the danger. I want the risk. I want to feel anything other than what I have been feeling for the last few weeks.

  “Okay,” I say haphazardly, and place my hand in his. I jolt from the zap of his dynamic energy, and he regards me quizzically. I ignore him, since I don’t want to complicate the night by having to explain myself. With a magical push, I dissuade him from asking any questions. Slightly starry-eyed, he escorts me to the nearest concession that is elegantly ornamented and carved out of wood.

  Phew.

  After he shakes off my dream-like distraction, he proceeds to enchant me with his stately regard and courteous rearing.

  “What’s your poison?” He asks glibly, leaning on the bar whose swirling carvings are identical to the headboard in my room.

  I examine the multicolored bottles lined neatly behind the attendant; I have no clue what to order. Is that even alcohol?

  What I would call a bartender hands a pink fizzy drink to a

  pixie next to me; smoke is curling around the glass.

  “I guess I’ll have that,” I nod.

  “She likes the strong stuff,” Siberian comments. “How strong can a pink frothy drink be?”

  He grunts. “I guess we’ll find out.” Then he nods to the bartender who starts making our drinks. A moment later, there is a pink, sublimating drink sitting in front of me. I cautiously take a sip of the unusual elixir. It’s effervescent in my mouth, like I’m sipping on a mix of Pop Rocks and Coke. Definitely drinkable. I lean over the bar’s edge, aware of and receptive to the pixie next to me. I sneak a look at him out of the corner of my eye; he is staring blatantly, obviously fascinated. I’m surprised to find myself enjoying the attention, even if it is from a potential threat. They will own you, Melenia’s words ring loud. I still don’t care. I haven’t felt coveted in such a long time. The notion depresses me; I swig another sip and turn my full attention to Siberian. I don’t want to think about the past, the previous or the preceding. There’s only the present. And my new beginning.

  He steps closer to me, our bodies touching now. His enthralling stare traps me as the silver of his eyes seeps into my insides. I allow myself to get lost, to abandon all good reason, and for the first time, in a long time, I dissolve the heaviness of my damaged soul.

  The night becomes nothing more than blur; a hazy escapade of lost inhibitions.

  Glitter falls from the sky.

  Pixies frolic all around me.

  And as a cyclone of hands and lips and breaths and desires sequester me, the one question I’m forbidden to answer dances surreptitiously around me through the night air.

  What’s your name Liv? Tell me your name…

  Kiss Off

  First, I wake up with a throbbing in my head. Then I find someone else in my bed.

  “What the hell were in those pink fizzy drinks?” I ask aghast, my palm to my forehead. “And why are you here!?” I shout at Siberian, who is lying casually next to me, eyes bright and alive.

  “It would have been rude to sneak out in the middle of the night. And good morning to you too, by the way.”

  “It’s not a good morning!” I bark. “It’s a disastrous morning and I’ve only been awake for five seconds!”

  “Is this how you treat all your male suitors?”

  “Yes!” I answer exasperated. “Especially the ones I don’t want suiting me!”

  “Well aren’t you the conundrum. You had no problem with it last night.”

  Last night? Doesn’t he mean the blacked out blur? “Oh god,” I’m huff. “Did we do what I think we did?”

  I’m having déjà vu. I check under the covers and all my clothes are still in their right place. I say a silent thank you.

  “We would have, but you fell asleep right in the middle of it.” I look at him horrified.

  “Right in the middle?”

  “Knocked out cold,” he says. “Total ego killer, by the way.” “Sorry,” I say insincerely. “But not really.”

  I sigh mercifully; disbelieving my stupidity. I let my emotions get the best of me, and they lead me down a disastrous path. I am a walking disaster. A second later my door swings open with Jocelyn singing my name. “Oh Liv…” she stops dead when she realizes what she’s walked in on, or what she thinks she’s walked in on. Her face drops and she gives me a deadly stare.

  “Joz!” I leap out of bed a stumbling mess, but she storms out of my room before I can say anything else.

  “Jocelyn!” I call, but she’s halfway down the hallway by the time I get out the door. I have to run just to catch up. “Jocelyn, wait!”

  She stops abruptly and turns to faces me. “Liv, I’m ashamed of you,” she scolds.

  “What?” I’m genuinely surprised. “Why?”

  “Spending the night with a pixie!? And Siberian of all people!”

  My jaw drops. She knows him? But that’s not what really surprises me, what surprises me is that this is the girl who has a different plaything every night, and she’s calling me the floozy.

  “Are you seriously scolding me, pot?”

  “I’m different. Your actions come with consequences.” “Nothing happened!” I stress.

  “You better hope not,” she seethes.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so mad.”

  She shakes her head indignantly. “What would Justice think?”

  Justice?

  I. See. Red.

  “Justice? Justice left me. Remember?” My words are so cold, my tongue turns to ice.

  She went there.

  Jocelyn has spent the last month trying to help me forget about him, and it only took her one second to dredge up all those painful feelings for me.

  Tears start to well in my eyes, but they aren’t tears for him, they are tears for her. I can’t believe she is reacting like this.

  “You have a lot of nerve judging me,” I say, my lip quivering. “I just expected more,” she says, then turns and walks away. Her words are so bitter.

  “What happened to his leaving is my new beginning!?” I yell down to her before she disappears into her room.

  I’m left standing in the hallway, hurt, irate and feeling utterly abandoned, again.

  WTF?

  I walk back into my room and slam the door, stomping towards the bathroom.

  “You’re still here?” I huff as I pass by Siberian, lying in my bed.

  I smash the bathroom door closed before he can answer.

  As I stalk by the mirror, something catches my eye. I take a closer look. Is that a hickey? Holy. Shit. Five minutes in another

  realm and I’ve made an abundance of bad decisions and have a shit-ton of regrets.

  Grea
t going.

  I rip off my clothes and ram on the faucet, then step into the steaming shower. The water is so hot it burns my skin red.

  I mumble furiously to myself under the stream. Who does she think she is? Standing on her soap box, judging me? So what if I spent the night with some random pixie? I am a consenting adult, damn it! I slam my fist sideways against the shower wall. Ouch, that hurt. Then, through all the resentment and the hostility, I start to cry. I cry because Jocelyn’s right; this isn’t the person I am, or the person I want to be. My life has been in a spiraling nosedive ever since Justice left.

  It’s pitiful that I allow one person have so much control over me.

  I have got to pull myself together. Life is way too short, I tell myself, as the searing water pours down over my face and shoulders, decontaminating my body.

  Why do I keep trying to cling to the past when I know there’s nothing left of it to hold onto?

  I grudgingly accept my reality. I know what I need to do.

  I need to let go. It’s time to let go.

  And face what I’m feeling.

  I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, mentally worn. I rub the fog off the mirror and take a good hard look at the reflection staring back at me. I see the girl with the weird amethyst eyes and dark espresso brown hair. The girl, who not so long ago, basked in the possibility of a new beginning.

  I’ve been here before; lost, alone and discouraged. I need to let go.

  I look myself straight in the eye. “Be. Stronger,” I command. Stronger than the loneliness and abandonment that’s ever-

  present. Stronger than the sadness and inferiority that plagues me.

  Be stronger than yesterday.

  I know I’m not the same anymore, and I’ve decided that that’s okay. Just as long as I see the face I vowed to fight for, I have the courage to move forward. To move beyond. To move away.