by E. D. Brady
She was laid out in a straight line, resting on her side, her head propped up on her right hand, her left hand resting gently on her thigh. Her hair was swept to one side, running over her right shoulder and down her arm, seductively.
He saw it immediately when he looked at her face.
His beautiful girl was gone.
Gone forever.
And in her place was the most stunning, desirable woman imaginable.
He swallowed a gasp.
At almost six feet, three inches tall, Kellus had never felt so small in his life.
His eyes stung, the way one’s would from gazing at the sun—the human eye too frail to behold such magnificence.
A smug smile played on her lips. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I…um…I…you’re beautiful,” he stammered.
She giggled; heavenly bells rang from her lips. “It’s like you’re seeing me for the first time,” she laughed.
“In a way, I am,” he answered.
She tilted her head forward slightly and let her eyes gaze down her naked body. “Oh, I suppose you’re right,” she replied, referring to the fact that he’d never seen her naked before today. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t feel a remote urge to cover herself up—so confident, so secure in her utter perfection was she.
Kellus knew then that the savage had been a liar. It had been a ruse, a trap.
The savage convinced him that if he took her innocence away, he would own her completely, but the very reverse had happened. She laid claim to every single part of him as if she’d opened him up and sucked in every last piece, leaving him an empty shell content to worship at her feet forever, to beg and plead for what tiny scraps of love she might throw in his direction.
Her smug smirk deepened. This was not the look of a girl, but one of a woman, a seductress who knew that she held her man in the palm of her hand, and could twist him around her fingers at any moment.
In that second, he realized the truth. She and the savage had been in cahoots all along. They had conspired to set him up. No wonder she felt so confident taunting the beast. No wonder she tried to coax it from it’s cage constantly.
“I think you should go get us dinner,” she said. “I’d do it, but as I’m forbidden to wear clothes, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Of course,” he answered, trying to shake himself out of his stupor. He jumped up and dressed quickly. He grabbed a coin purse from the dresser and walked to the door. “But…” he said, turning towards her, “I have no idea what angels eat.”
She laughed softly.
“I’m serious, Annie,” he stated.
“Just get me whatever you’re having,” she replied.
When Kellus walked into the restaurant downstairs, the same host stood by the door, greeting people. “Ah, you’re the young man that was married earlier today,” he said cheerfully.
“Yes,” Kellus replied.
“May I congratulate you on your bride? She’s quite beautiful,” the man added.
“Thank you,” Kellus answered, beaming with pride.
“I wish you a long and happy life together,” the host said.
“Again, thank you,” Kellus responded. “I’m convinced that we will have just that.”
If he had known then how wrong he was, how terrible things were about to go, he would have spent his entire fortune to keep her confined to that hotel room with him, forever.
Chapter 20
At first he thought she was playing some twisted game, but after a couple of hours, he realized that something bad had happened.
He willingly went to feed the stray cat, knowing that it was a flimsy excuse for whatever she had planned. He’d seen the devilish look on her face and felt sure it had something to do with driving the savage insane. She had grown rather fond of the savage. They were the best of friends. Always she welcomed it with open arms—as well as open legs.
He whistled an upbeat tune as he headed back from the tiny forest, so completely in love that his mouth felt compelled to make happy sounds all the time.
His good mood lasted for about fifteen to twenty minutes, but after that, when there was still no sign of her, anger started flaring up. What the hell was she playing at?
By that night, mind-numbing worry and panic took over. He, along with the twins, didn’t sit still, constantly opening and shutting the front and back doors, looking around for any sign of her return.
Two days later—utterly devastated—Kellus found himself walking out her front door. The twins looked to him constantly for answers and guidance, but he just didn’t have any. Without much thought, he let his legs move in whatever direction they wished, hoping only to feel a slight relief from the pain.
Without being conscious of where he was going, he found himself entering the living room of his family’s home.
His mother ran in to see who had come into the house. “Kellus, why are you…” she trailed off, reading the destruction in his expression. “What happened?” she asked flatly.
His lips began to quiver. He shook his head, unable to say the words.
“Son, what’s the matter?” Her voice was laced with worry. She walked towards him.
He slid down onto his knees, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. “Mama!” he cried out—a term he hadn’t used since he was eleven.
She knelt on the floor beside him and took him into her arms. “I’m here, son,” she cooed into his ear. “Tell me what happened.”
The words ripped his throat like shards of glass on their way out. “She’s gone,” he sobbed. He rested his head on his mother’s shoulder and wept.
The following ten days went by in a blur. He spent the time rolling in his bed, trying to find relief from the pain. He remembered hearing someone say that Danus had been by to see him, but he refused visitors. Danus told his family that a search party had been formed, so every day, he listened intently when Danus came by to give his family an update.
On the tenth day, his world came to an abrupt ending.
He sat at the kitchen table, dirty and unkempt, with a beard and mustache growing in, no longer caring about personal hygiene. Danus came by to tell the family that the searches had been called off. He looked at Kellus with overwhelming pity in his eyes. “They’re pronouncing her dead,” he said quietly. “I suggest that you consider a memorial service.”
Kellus’s mind and soul tore apart.
He convulsed, rattled with bitter wails.
In a fit of insanity, he lunged at his dagger that sat on the counter. Markum beat him to it. He begged and pleaded for Markum to let him have it, to let him slit his own throat.
“Hide every single knife and weapon in this house!” Markum yelled to his mother and sister. He grabbed Kellus around the shoulders and wrestled him out the kitchen door. “Take a couple of deep breaths and think about what you’re doing to them, to mother and Zifini.”
“I don’t fucking care!” Kellus screamed, trying to fight Markum off. “Let me go,” he said after unsuccessfully wrestling his brother. He voice became low and broken. “I can’t…I can’t live without her, Markum,” he sobbed. “Please let me go.”
“Afraid I can’t do that,” his brother replied.
After at least six more scenes of that nature, Markum tied him in the barn until he promised to behave, but he would not make that vow.
Kellus didn’t know how long he’d spent there. The black days came and went in a dense fog, his body too riddled with pain to care any longer.
Somehow he found himself in the living room again, sitting before Nordorum. Nordorum was telling him all the reasons why he should return to the Citadom, but Kellus barely listened. Before him, he could see only her, smiling at him, holding her hand out, gesturing for him to follow her. Every fiber of his being wanted to, but he didn’t know how. “Where are you?” he asked the lovely image.
“Kellus,” Nordorum said firmly, “have you been listening to what I’ve said.”
“Yes, of course,” he lied.
“If what you say is true,” Nordorum continued, “and she is alive, as soon as she returns you would be free to go to her.”
Kellus nodded.
And so, after a week, he found himself back at the Citadom.
It didn’t take him long to realize that the whole thing was a sham. He no longer had anything to offer this place, couldn’t function as a valuable member of this society. This was merely a case of one hundred men desperately trying to save one worthless life. He could give nothing in return. She had taken everything with her when she disappeared, leaving him an empty, soulless, walking corpse.
He cursed himself constantly for falling so hard, for believing in the dream.
He stayed indoors as often as possible, finding the summer breeze a mockery, recoiling from the sight of flowers, shrinking from the sound of laughter. Why were there still bright colors? Why hadn’t everything turned gray? How was there still joy and humor in this hell? How can life go on when she was no longer with him?
And the pain burned always, tearing at his insides, searing his flesh from within. A hundred thousand sharp needles jabbed at his skin constantly, an agony that only her touch could heal.
Why wouldn’t someone take pity on him and put him out of his misery?
The drinking started in earnest as the summer came to a close.
It was innocent enough at first.
One evening at dinner, he rolled food around his plate as usual—rarely did any nourishment enter his mouth—when he noted the effects of the wine he drank. An almost pleasant numbness came over him. After six large glasses, he knew he could make it through the night without crying.
Every night for a week, he repeated this trend, feeling smug that he’d cheated the nights of their torment.
Soon, the days were more unbearable than the evenings. He could think of only one way to rectify that. He sneaked into the kitchens between classes and drank down almost an entire bottle in a couple of quick mouthfuls. He thought no one was the wiser, but after another two weeks, he was polishing off over five bottles a day. The one benefit to drinking all day long, every day, was that he never felt the effects of a hangover.
One evening, he woke in the hospital with no memory of how he had gotten there.
Conor came over to him. “How are you feeling?” he asked kindly.
‘Like shit.’ “Okay,” Kellus lied. “What happened?”
“You passed out drunk in the hallway outside the meditation room,” Conor answered. “Kellus, when was the last time you’ve eaten?”
He really couldn’t answer that question. He shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re very ill,” Conor added. “You won’t last another two months at this rate.”
‘Good.’
“I’m keeping you here for the rest of the week,” Conor continued. “We’re going to sober you up and get some nutrients and fluids into you.”
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed.
Two days later, the burning pain returned. His body screamed out for Annie, or was it alcohol? Did it even matter which at this point?
Five days later, he was out of the hospital and on his way home. His father said nothing to him as they travelled along, but he knew that his father had been told of his hospital stay.
As soon as he walked through the door, he went to the kitchen and grabbed three bottles of wine from a cupboard. Not bothering with a glass—swigging it right from the bottle was quicker—he walked back out, noticing Cora watching him from the corner of her eye.
He didn’t join his family for dinner that night, couldn’t be bothered with the strained conversations. He spent the night in drunken bliss.
The following morning, he walked downstairs and went straight for the same cupboard.
It was empty.
Ah, so Cora had told on him, and they thought they could stop him by hiding the wine.
He walked out the backdoor and to the left, to the shed where he and Markum kept their cider.
That was empty also.
“Don’t even bother looking,” Markum called out. “I’ve hidden it somewhere you won’t find it.”
Kellus balled his hands into fists. “Why are you fucking doing this?” he seethed.
“I’m trying to save your life,” Markum answered matter-of-factly.
Kellus lunged at his brother.
Markum was bigger than Kellus—muscled to the extreme—but normally Kellus was more agile, more limber, and their playful fights had always been even. Now, Kellus barely had the strength to stand up straight. Markum had him in a vice-grip immediately. Max appeared by his side and together they managed to drag Kellus upstairs to his room, locking the door behind them.
He lay on his bed and draped his arm over his face, exhausted.
Less than an hour later, he heard the lock click open. Markum, Max, Zifini and Cora entered the room, all four somber faced.
After forty-five minutes of relentless intervention, Kellus ordered them from his room, but they wouldn’t move.
Markum and Zifini pleaded repetitively for him to take better care of himself, but they were getting nowhere.
Finally, Cora put up her hand to silence them both. She looked deep into Kellus’s eyes and spoke from her heart. “Max and I lost our parents at the age of twelve,” she reminded him. “We were devastated and scared. Annie was devastated and scared, but she found the strength to face the pain and to do everything in her power for us. She sacrificed everything for us. Now, she’s gone also. So I think that both Max and I would have every right to fall apart the way you have. We could take to constant drinking also, but that’s not what she would want for us. In doing so, we would be making a mockery of her efforts, of everything she ever did or gave up for us.”
Kellus swallowed hard, he knew where this was going.
“In many ways, she loved you even more,” Cora continued. “She would be so upset to see you this way. She wouldn’t want this for you.”
He fell apart. He knew Cora was right. Suddenly, he was riddled with shame, embarrassed by his weaknesses. He gave in and promised to stop the alcohol abuse.
He spent the remainder of the day, curled up in a ball, crying his heart out.
He returned to the Citadom and let the pain have him. He understood that this was now his lot in life, agony beyond belief, but for the little time he’d had with her, maybe in some way it was worth it.
Some months later, the dreams started.
This brought on a whole new level to the suffering.
Every night, he held her in his dreams, made love to her in sleep, every morning he lost her all over again. When he thought that things couldn’t get any worse, like a cruel joke, the Universe taught him differently.
Could black get any blacker? Could emptiness expand? Apparently, it could.
He left the hospital on Thursday morning and joined the other apprentices in the dining room for breakfast.
“How are you feeling, Kellus?” Danus asked with concern.
“I’m fine,” he lied. He would never be fine again, not in this lifetime.
As the day wore on, he started to form a plan. He always thought he knew that Annie was alive somewhere, but that didn’t mean she’d ever be coming back to him. He could spend decades waiting, and he would if he had confirmation.
He knew he could never kill himself with a dagger or knife; his mother would never get over the horror of that. But suicide by alcohol was gradual and unnoticeable. If he was really careful this time, he could hide it from them until the very end. So, the promise that he’d made his siblings months ago was about to be broken.
On Friday, he cleaned up well, forced a smile onto his face, and went to meet his father.
It was an easy plan. If he convinced his family that he was feeling better, they wouldn’t sneak around behind him constantly. At the first opportunity he had, he would sneak out unnoticed, hide the wine and cider down on the farm, and then ask his father if
he could borrow a carriage for some made up errand. Then he would collect the booze, take it to the Citadom, and sneak it into his room. There were a few minor details to work out, but he felt confident that he’d find solutions as he went.
For the first time in months, Kellus felt a surge of hope. He believed that all his suffering would be over soon enough.
By the time he walked out the front door, Tol was already waiting for him. Whatever his mother had planned must have been very important to her for Tol to be in such a hurry to get home.
He climbed up next to his father and managed an enthusiastic greeting.
They rode quietly past the bank, turning right onto Sarry Road.
When they reached the Ocean Road, Tol pulled the carriage over and parked it by the beach wall. He turned to his son. “Kellus, I have something to tell you,” he said. Then the biggest, happiest of smiles spread across his face.
“What?” Kellus questioned, pretending to sound interested.
Then Tol uttered the words that would thwart his plan, the words that would forever be burned into his memory. “Son, Annie’s back!”
Annella Kir
Chapter 21
Annie woke feeling sick with nerves.
It was finally Friday and Kellus would be home later that afternoon.
She went down to the kitchen, knowing that eating would prove to be impossible.
“What’s the matter?” Sara asked, immediately sensing that Annie was not well.
Annie shook her head, saying nothing, and jumped on the kitchen counter, dangling her legs like a small child.
Cora and Zifini wished her good-morning with questioning looks.
“You look ill, child,” Sara said.
All three stared at her, waiting for an explanation.
She shook her head again. It seemed that her lips were stuck together.
“Are you anxious about seeing Kellus today?” Sara asked.
