Ariana turns to look at him. He’s lying with his arms beside his body, the shredded towel under his back. According to the spell book, he should have died from that venomous bite—it was almost guaranteed. And what’s with the gash on his eyebrow, now almost healed? She creeps closer, crawls across the bed, and studies his face.
His eyelids snap open. With a whirl, she’s on her back with Hadeon crouched over her, his chest heaving, face twisted.
“Ariana?” he says, looking down at her. He springs off her and lands both feet on the floor. “You shouldn’t creep up on someone like that. I could’ve hurt you. Or worse.”
She sits up, crawls backward toward the head of the bed, and hugs her knees to her chest. Her heart is thumping. “Yeah, well you shouldn’t go all freakin’ psycho like that before my brain can even register I’ve moved. How the hell did you do that? You move crazy quick.”
Ariana’s gaze wanders up the length of his hard body and over the concaves of his tattooed torso. His stomach muscles are rigid, pecs stacked, biceps bulging, and shoulders broad and defined. She rests her head back against the headboard, suddenly woozy.
“What are you? That bite…” She points to the red flowers which have turned into a gelatinous black paste across his side. “…should have killed you.”
“I’m what you need right now. That’s all you need to know.” He strides toward the door. “I need to wash these flowers off before they reinfect me.”
Ariana huffs as she watches him leave the room.
Well, if you won’t tell me what the hell is going on, I will find out for myself.
She creeps to her bedroom door, closes it quietly, and locks it. Back on her bed, she pulls the spell book onto her lap.
History of the spell book.
She stares at the page. The Soul Seeker still looks up at her, but nothing happens, no flapping pages this time.
Maybe it’s like a search engine and you have to use the best words to generate the right search.
Why do I have the spell book?
Nothing.
What is Fiore?
Again nothing.
She growls and slams the book shut. “I just want someone who can give me answers.”
The book flings open and its pages whirl through the air. Ariana gasps and pulls the book off her lap onto the bed. It lands on an open page, drenched in dark red-tinged clouds.
The only thing written upon the page is The Oracle. If you want her, you will find her.
Ariana jumps off the bed and stuffs the spell book back into the safe. She dresses in a pair of jeans and a black tank top, ties her hair up in a ponytail, and sneaks out of the apartment.
Chapter 6
Iron-gray tinged clouds smother the sun’s light, shadowing the neighborhood. But the chance of rain isn’t going to stop Ariana’s quest for answers. She jumps on the bus in front of the apartment and heads into the city. Why? She doesn’t know exactly; she’s relying on intuition.
Everyone filling the streets, the other passengers on the bus, could be potential threats now, so she remains attentive to any signs of danger. She has had firsthand experience that another world exists within this one—a world of weird and fantastical creatures. But surely amongst them, there is good. As though in answer, threatening rumbles of thunder crack the sky, shaking the bus windows, and Ariana shudders.
The sidewalk swarms with people of different shapes and ethnicities. The bus pulls into a stop and she peers across the street at the commuters crammed under the bus shelter.
One man draws her attention. His irises are pale blue, almost white. Despite the distance, his stare bores into her. A time not so long ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything peculiar about this man, but with her new perceptions, her new knowledge, she can see the barely discernible, but recognizable, differences.
Ariana stands, runs off the bus, and sprints across the road, weaving in and out of traffic, not knowing what her plan is, but trying to do something, anything, to attain some semblance of understanding about what is happening to her world. As she makes it to the other side of the road, the bus pulls in and all the passengers climb onboard.
But this man doesn’t. He waits for her.
When the bus steers away, leaving the acrid stench of gas fumes, she looks deep into his pale blue eyes.
“Thanks for waiting,” she says, a little breathless.
He smiles wide. “It’s not often that I have a beautiful girl chase after me, so I best not waste the moment.”
Ariana scans his face intently. He seems normal. She holds out her hand. “Um, hi, I’m Ariana.”
“Gaius,” he says, obliging his hand to shake.
“Can I ask why you were staring at me?”
He grins, his cheeks blushing. “Look at you. How could I not?”
She steps closer and lowers her voice. “It wasn’t for any other reason?”
He blushes deeper now and laughs. “Um, no. Should there be?”
Ariana shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not.” But intuition sparks from deep inside, telling her not to believe him. He’s hiding something and she wants to know what it is.
Thunder rumbles from above, vibrating her heart, and she jolts. Big splashes of rain fall from the bruised sky. “Do you have plans for the day, Gaius?”
“Nothing set in stone.”
“Do you want to grab a drink?” She hopes, after a few drinks, his lips might be looser.
He looks at his watch and then up to the sky. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
They escape the rain by running into the first bar they find. An Irish pub with large timber booths and painted in warm colors. Folk songs pump through the speakers, and the place smells like stale beer and home cooking. They order two pints of Guinness and take a seat at a booth in the dimly lit back corner of the pub.
Yes, she is underage, but if she is expected to take care of herself like an adult, she can drink like one. And age is never an issue for her, all she has to do is give the server a flirty smile and she gets what she wants. With Matt working behind a bar, it is even easier…
The cruel truth sinks in. Matt’s no longer here. He’s no longer alive. Because of me. A deep burning settles in her chest like it always does when she thinks of Matt. She swallows hard, forcing down those emotions. Wallowing about Matt’s death now isn’t going to help her find answers.
“I hope you like Irish beer,” she says, taking a long sip of the dark brown brew.
“I should hope I do too. I was born in Ireland, have an overbearing Irish family, and come to this pub every second weekend.”
She smiles, though it’s strained. “I can hear a hint of an accent now that you mention it.”
“A tough one to lose. So do you live around here, Ariana?”
She shakes her head. “No, down town.”
“With your parents still?”
“No, I… I don’t, um, have parents. I live with a friend.”
He sips his beer, looking at her over the rim of the glass. A grin shapes his lips. “Your friend, is she as beautiful as you?”
Ariana laughs. “No, he’s not beautiful at all.” She laughs again thinking of how awkwardly beautiful and Hadeon fit together in the same sentence, but then she remembers when he smiled and how his features changed. A deep pulse between her thighs, but she chases the pooling lust away with a breath, remembering her company. “And thank you for the inadvertent compliment,” she says.
“Oh, it wasn’t inadvertent.”
She grins as she sips at her beer.
Well, haven’t you grown some confidence? I like that.
Gaius is tall, toned but slender, with chocolate brown hair, and has a spattering of freckles across his nose.
They talk while drinking huge pints of beer. On her third drink, her head is light and all her worries are floating away on the notes of the songs that hum in her ears. The bar has busied, the atmosphere morphing and growing livelier. The scents and sounds of drunken cheer lift her spirits.
She waves at him dismissively. “You’d think I was mad if I told you.”
His forehead wrinkles and his smile grows curious. “Now I’m intrigued.”
She shrugs, her mind muzzy from the alcohol. “I thought you looked different. I’m looking for different at the moment.”
His eyes shimmer a little darker, just like Hadeon’s do; she’s certain of it. “Different how?”
She looks closer, though trying to remain nonchalant. “I thought you looked like a…vampire,” she says. “You know, every girl wants one of those at the moment.”
Gaius leans back in his seat, his arms lifting to rest on his head, and bursts into laughter. “You thought I was a vampire? Are you serious?”
Ariana grins. “A girl can hope. Your eyes…they’re quite incredible.”
He laughs again. “Thank you. You know, this has been a lot of fun, Ariana.”
She nods. “Yeah, it has.” She looks out onto the street. The rain is still coming down, and dusk has spread its dove gray wings over the city.
I should be getting home.
Ariana stands and pulls her phone from her handbag. “Give me your number, Gaius. I’d like to catch up again.”
“Are you going?” he asks, disappointment transforming his features.
“Yeah. It’s getting dark.”
He stands too and tells her his phone number while she punches it into her contact list. She holds the phone up. “Smile,” she says and takes a photo of him as he grins.
“Do you need me to get you home?” he asks.
She leans over the table and kisses his cheek. He smells of cinnamon, cardamom, and vanilla—sweetly spicy. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for a wonderful day.”
He grins wide. “My pleasure.”
Ariana sways to the door and waves goodbye as she heads out onto the street and into the cold, damp dusk. Her head is swimming in beer. Wow, a little drunker than I thought.
Her bus pulls in and she climbs onboard. The bus is filled to the brim, but Ariana manages to find a seat at the back next to a young girl of seven or eight. The girl looks up at her with big blue eyes and a toothy grin, her white-haired pigtails bobbing. She pulls a piece of bubble gum from the packet in her hand and offers it to Ariana.
Strawberry flavor. Ariana smiles and pops the bubble gum in her mouth. The taste plants her back in time during her childhood.
“I used to chew this when I was a little girl,” she says.
The girl grins again. “I know, Ariana.”
Ariana leans closer. “How do you know my name?”
She chuckles, cute dimples flashing. “You wanted to meet with me. Here I am.”
The bubble gum burns her mouth and tongue. She spits it back into the paper. “What was in that?” she says, but her words sound hollow and shapeless like they are floating on the air that blows through the bus.
Ariana tosses her head from side to side as the bus starts to spin around her. Colors deepen; peoples’ faces glow; Ariana has to squint to see them. When she looks back at the little girl, she bites back a scream. Black, hollow eyes, much like the Soul Seeker in the picture, glare up at her. Droplets of blood roll from each corner onto the girl’s cheeks.
“Ask your questions, Ariana,” the girl says, her voice hissing like a snake. Distance grows between them until they are across from each other, Ariana at the back of the bus, the little girl standing at the front, staring. The bus is empty now, except for Ariana and the Oracle.
“What the hell is happening?” she says, the words but a wispy whisper.
“Questions,” roars the girl, the distance between them bending and snapping back like a rubber band to how it was before when they were seated beside one another.
Ariana pushes her face into her hands and breathes deeply. Her head won’t stop reeling. She can’t orient herself in time or space, nor access her own mind.
Questions, questions. What do I want to know?
She sits up and turns to face the Oracle. The black eyes and blood are gone.
“Why do I have the book?” she manages in a sing-song voice.
“It chose you.”
“But why me?”
The little girl laughs like a cackling old hag, and her face flakes away, exposing muscle and tendon. Her eyes sink back into her head and white hair falls around her shoulders, onto her lap. Ariana dry-retches until she can’t hold her stomach any longer. She leans over the aisle and vomits dark floods of Guinness and stomach acid.
The little girl presses her rotting lips to Ariana’s ear and whispers with hot, stale breath, “The book chooses she who will keep it safe. But be warned, they are coming for you and seek to destroy all that you stand for. Everything.”
A flash of light blares into her face and Ariana has to squint. When she can see and think clearly again, she realizes the bus has stopped at Hadeon’s apartment. The bus driver is shining a flashlight in her eyes.
“Get off,” he yells. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
Ariana stands on shaky legs and tromps over the top of her vomit, not daring to look at any of the judging passengers’ faces. Hadeon catches her as she steps out onto the footpath. He’s panting as though he’s been running.
“Oh, thank God,” she says.
He scoops her up into his arms. She presses her face to his chest to block out the world that whirls around her like a colorful spinning wheel.
* * * *
Ariana returns to consciousness when a cup of bitter-smelling tea is pressed under her nose. She’s lying on the couch in the living room of Hadeon’s apartment.
“Drink,” Hadeon demands, gruff and angry.
She clamps her nose with her fingers and guzzles down the warm, foul-tasting liquid. She coughs and chokes, eyes watering. But the constant spinning stops, the fog shrouding her thoughts dissipates, and the colors, garbled together as though she’s looking at them from a fast moving car, return to normal.
Ariana rolls over and faces Hadeon. He is crouching beside her, lips scrunched, and angry wrinkles line the bridge of his nose.
Oh shit.
“Where the fuck were you all day?” he asks.
She sighs.
“Answer me,” he yells.
Ariana sits up and snarls, “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
He gets to his feet, chest rising and falling, and scrubs his hands through his hair.
The stench of beer and vomit stings her nose. “I’m going to take a shower.”
By the time Ariana has finished showering, night has descended on the city. Through the windows, the buildings glow and sparkle like towering beacons. Peaceful, she thinks as she pads down the hall to meet with Hadeon.
Ariana’s hair lays damp against her back; it cools her through her shirt. She finds Hadeon in the kitchen on a stool, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, and mumbling under his breath.
“That’s the first sign of insanity, isn’t it? Talking to yourself?” she says.
He lifts his head and looks at her, but his lips don’t move out of the scowl.
She sits on the stool next to him and sighs. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was going out.”
“The main problem is the condition you were in when you got home. You were as high as a kite. Anyone, anything could have—”
“I know. I know. Things got out of hand.”
“You can’t let things get out of hand, Ariana. And since when do you take drugs? I thought you had a little more sense than that.”
She focuses on her hands. No way is she going to tell him about the Oracle, how she is the one who drugged her with that pretty-pink laced bubble gum. He’d kill her himself.
“I met a guy at a pub and he offered it to me. I know I should’ve said no.”
Hadeon pushes his stool back, the legs dragging against the floor. “What g
uy?”
Oh boy. Wrong excuse.
“Just an, um, old friend, who was in the same foster system as me.”
“You’re lying.”
She stands now. “Yeah, well you’re getting on my nerves.”
He steps closer. “I’m getting on your nerves? What a joke.”
“My life is my business, not yours, regardless of what the hell is going on. Which you still won’t tell me about, mind you. And who do you think you are anyway? I don’t have to answer to you.” Anger pulses through her. She raises her fists to bang at his chest, but he grabs her wrists and holds them tight.
His scent swarms all around her. She breathes him in, can’t help it. Chest swelling, anger flaring his nostrils, and something else, quite the opposite, burns in his eyes.
Like a magnet, she drifts toward him, aching for the searing heat of his body to scorch her, while at the same time, she itches to scratch his eyes out.
His face nears hers, his brown irises now almost black and swimming with lust. Firm lips trail down her face, his warm breath caressing her tingling flesh. He releases her wrists from his hard grip, and his hands find her hair where his fists tangle at her nape.
Hadeon pulls her against him. She doesn’t resist. It feels too good, this heat. He feels too strong, powerful, every muscle rippling, hard and alive. His lips meet hers, not gently, not carefully, but rough and hard.
Gluttonous hands paw at her bare thighs and over her ass. A rumble sounds in his chest, causing a taut band of pleasure to twang in her stomach and spread further down.
“I don’t know if I want to make love with you or kill you,” she whispers.
He leans back and laughs like thunder. Brows arching high, breaths heavy, she stares at the glorious transformation on his face.
“You, Ariana, could do both.”
He breaks away and takes a step back. Ariana deflates.
“I’m…sorry.” He sighs, shaking his head. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us. This will complicate things.”
Ariana’s lips part as a quick burst of air is sucked between them. She plants her hands on her hips and glares at him, but she can’t formulate the right words to say, so she spins and marches off to her bedroom.
The Book of Spells and Such Page 7
