The Book of Eden

by Alex Temples

  What now? I stared silently at the map, but it had no answers. Then, in a flash of intuition, I knew what I needed to do. I raised a hand to my bloody nose, still dripping. With blood-covered fingers, I smeared the crimson liquid over the image of the glowing chalice on the map. Magic crackled in the air. It glowed brighter.

  Hope blossomed in my chest and I waited. Nothing else happened. I frowned, looking from the worn parchment to the iron box and back again. Could it be? I examined the iron more closely, and, stepping forward, let my bloody fingers come to rest on the cool metal. With a flash, it came to life under my fingers, the metal warming. That was it. Blood magic hid the artifact. Keeper magic.

  Emboldened, I steeled myself against the coming pain and pressed the back of my fist against my painful, broken nose. Blood spurted forth in response and I caught it in my hand, feeling the warm liquid stream into my palm, as the scent of iron filled the air.

  With a breath, I stepped closer to the casket, hoping I was right, and flipped my hand over, letting the warm liquid hit the cold metal. A sizzle, and then a pop, and the entire frame came to life, glowing orange and hot, the light piercing the dank darkness of the cemetery. From the corner of my eye, I sensed all attention turn towards me.

  A flash in the corner, and I saw Eirian appear in the corner of the yard, leaping in front of a blast of light Agfad had thrown at me. I blocked it all out, turning my attention fully to the blazing iron.

  Yes. Reveal yourself. I will protect your secrets. Unconsciously, I felt the magic seeking me out, assessing me. It licked at me with sharp tendrils that burned across my skin. It was hungry still.

  I grimaced, ripping the bandage from my arm. The cut from earlier had stopped bleeding, leaving a raised, red slash across my wrist and up my forearm. I unsheathed my dagger. Gritting my teeth, I filled my lungs with air and put the point of the dagger to my angry flesh. With a swift slash, I opened the cut again, thrusting my arm forward immediately thereafter so the blood ran down, flowing onto the iron frame.

  The lid of the box was smooth and flat, a blank metal canvas, until my blood spread across it. The metal melted into a molten liquid as my blood hit it. I called out to the magic, letting it in, bearing my soul to it, and willing the chalice to reveal itself.

  There was a flash, and a pop as the metal exploded, vanishing, dissolving the casket along with it, and on the ground before me, lay the skeleton of Abigail Curran, bony fingers wrapped around the handles of a shining silver chalice.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I knelt slowly, sinking to the ground, overtaken by a sense of awe at the shining object before me. Power poured from it in waves, drawing me toward it. As my fingers slid around the glowing cup, a sense of euphoria washed over me, and I no longer felt any pain. It glowed in my hands, warming in response to my touch.

  It knew me.

  I felt the strangest sense of déjà vu, and then the cup cooled, the glow dimmed, and it fell silent. I stared at it for a moment longer. Then, my momentary trance broken, I felt people staring at me.

  When I looked up, Siddarth and Claire stood staring in awe at the cup. Beside them, stood the two strangers who’d come with Siddarth, wearing similar expressions.

  “I think we’ve underestimated you.”

  A deep rumble came from over my right shoulder. I jumped, leaping to the ground and spinning around to find Eirian standing in front of me. A stunning Japanese woman stood behind him. They both stared at me. The woman’s expression was one awe. Eirian wore his usual arrogant expression, his eyes dark with interest, but there was something else’s there too. Curiosity. It flashed in the depths of his eyes, and he looked me up and down with interest.

  Dammit. There I go being interesting again. I tightened my grip on the cup and raised my chin.

  “Where is Agfad?”

  “Gone. He took his man and left when I arrived. They knew they were outmanned.” Eirian replied.

  I nodded with satisfaction and relaxed.

  “Good. Someone collect Orielle. She’s lying unconscious over there. We need to get back to my place before the dark fae bring reinforcements. We have something they want, and they’ll kill whoever they have to, to get it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I stared in the bathroom mirror. The woman who stared back at me was unrecognizable. My nose was broken, my right eye was swollen shut. My already injured shoulder now had a bruise on top of the existing gash, and the gash in my arm was a deep, angry red.

  I shook my head. It couldn’t be helped. With a shrug, I pulled one of Oren’s worn Metallica shirts over my head, wincing as pain shot through my battered body.

  It didn’t matter. We had one of the treasures. We had a chance. Gethin may have the stone, but without one of the weapons of light to defend its power, I was certain we had a chance.

  I began to slowly untangle my hair, dragging a brush through it and trying not to wince. We’d arrived to discover the other fae had returned with their charges. I’d never had such a herd of people in my house before. I’d sent the lot of them up to the third floor with Claire, instructing Oren to order Chinese food and excusing myself to clean up. Eirian was tending to Orielle, who was still unconscious, but didn’t seem to be badly injured.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Brin, it’s Siddarth.”

  I sighed and slid off the counter, where I’d been sitting while cleaning one of the cuts on my face. I pulled open the door.

  Siddarth stood holding a small pouch. He smiled sympathetically.

  “Your nose is broken.”

  I nodded.

  “Yep.”

  “Will you let me heal you?” He asked tentatively. I knew his hesitation was because the last time he’d healed me, I’d just found out he was fae.

  I eyed him, cocking my head to one side. I supposed it would be great to get rid of the thudding pain in my head, but I was still a little uncomfortable with fae healing, not quite understanding how it worked.

  The pain won out. I nodded.

  “Alright.”

  Siddarth looked relieved. He smiled and gestured towards the hall.

  “Everyone is upstairs. Can you come lay on the couch while I work?”

  I shrugged and followed him into the living room, where I sunk gratefully into the well-upholstered sofa.

  I would happily take a nap if given the opportunity. Everything hurt. My head throbbed, my bones ached, both cuts burned with fire, and when I took a deep breath, I got a sharp stitch in my side.

  Siddarth faced me, taking a seat on the coffee table and placing his hand on my forehead.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, staring up at him.

  His warm brown eyes met mine, and I saw concern in them.

  “Brin, you put yourself in a dangerous position today.” He said, his accent thicker than usual. I thought I detected some richer emotion beneath the surface. A line appeared in his forehead as he stared in my eyes, his expression serious.

  I frowned back. “We are all in a dangerous position if we don’t defeat Gethin. What would you have me do? Sit and wait patiently until all of you got back? You know as well as I do, if Claire, Orielle and I hadn’t gone to that cemetery, the cup would be in the wrong hands right now. What then? They would hold two of the treasures, Sid.” My voice was filled with equal parts anger and frustration, and Siddarth stared back at me, his expression solemn.

  He dropped his eyes and then looked back up at me.

  “You’re right. I understand you had no choice. I just worry about you, and with Tristan unable to protect you…I should have been here.”

  I shook my head then, wrestling into a sitting position.

  “No.” My voice was firm. “Sid, it isn’t your job to protect me anymore.” I stared into his eyes, and then added softly. “It isn’t Tristan’s job either.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that, and I felt compelled to explain.

  I put my hand on his knee. “Look
, I appreciate what you did for me all those years, watching over me. I didn’t know what I was, what danger I could have faced. You kept me safe while I was ignorant.” I sighed shaking my head slightly. “But Sid, I know what I am now.”

  I bit my lip and gave him a tentative smile. “I love that you want to protect me still, but I’m all grown up.” I let out a dry laugh. “I may not be all that good with my magic yet, but I’ve chosen to be here, to take the risk of battling the dark fae, understanding how dangerous it is.”

  A mix of emotions played across his face, but finally, I saw acceptance.

  I nodded with satisfaction.

  “Now, if you want to be concerned for me, because you’re my friend, and we care about one another, I accept that, but don’t you dare feel any misplaced guilt over not being here to save me from the bad guys.” I emphasized with a shake of my head. “You and Tristan have a lot more in common than I thought, and you’re both going to have to let go of the idea that I’m still a helpless mortal.”

  We stared at each other, and finally he smiled.

  “Alright. I’ll work on not seeing you as a helpless mortal, but I can’t promise it will be a quick transition. However strong and capable you may be, you still bleed like a mortal.” He said with a raised eyebrow. An expression of amusement playing across his dark features as he purposefully ran his eyes over my many cuts and bruises.

  I shrugged sheepishly.

  “Trust me, that fact has not escaped me.” I admitted as I lay back on the couch, arranging the cushions until I was comfortably propped up.

  “Go ahead and work your magic.”

  He chuckled and set to work.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I was in Oren’s room, where I’d tucked the cup away. It gleamed in my hand, warming until it felt like I was cradling a living, breathing thing. The smell of rain filled the room as I studied the simple silver chalice. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over me, and the scent of rain sent powerful emotions coursing through me.

  Siddarth had headed upstairs to find Claire and tend to her wounds while Neil watched over our new flock. I hadn’t seen anyone else since we’d arrived back. I assumed they were all upstairs and I’d hoped to examine the cup in private before rejoining the group.

  I sucked in a ragged breath as I stared down at the cup that could bring a man back to life. Suddenly, I felt a powerful yearning. It blossomed inside me, unfurling warm tendrils as the feeling grew.

  This cup could bring my father back to me, could restore to me what Gethin had taken. Hunger gripped, and I wondered what I had to do to activate its powers. Did you just pour the liquid into someone’s mouth?

  My father had been dead for months now. Who knew if it would even work? As if sensing my thoughts, the chalice warmed, grey metal transforming into shining, shimmering silver, illuminating the runes carved on the outside.

  It was hungry.

  For what, I didn’t know. As I stared at the cup, the hunger grew. I knew I was invincible with this cup.

  I could save people with this cup. I had to have the other treasures, no matter what it took. I would have the sword, and the spear, and the stone, and I, not Gethin, I would rule the worlds. What would happen if I drank from the cup? Siddarth had healed my wounds, but there was still a deep ache, an exhaustion even his magic couldn’t touch.

  I considered the chalice again, and this time it was filled with liquid. I yanked my head back in surprise. Where the hell had that come from? My shock faded as quickly as it had arisen. I stared at the liquid. It appeared to be the same shimmering sliver as the cup.

  Maybe I should drink it, just to see what happened. Then, I’d go and give Tristan some. It would wake him from his sleep. Yes! That was it, I would try it, and then I would give some to Tristan.

  I started to raise the cup to my lips, suddenly overcome by a bone deep thirst.

  “No!” A deep voice shouted. I gasped as something hit me, sending me flying backwards onto the bed.

  I clutched the cup firmly in my right hand, refusing to let go, even as Eirian wrapped a hand around each wrist, pressing my hands above my head.

  I huffed, gasping for air. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I growled, throwing him a furious expression.

  His obsidian eyes met mine. They burned with anger, and some other emotion I didn’t recognize.

  “I should ask you the same thing, mortal.” He spat out, glaring down at me.

  I looked away then, lifting my chin and glancing angrily over his shoulder towards the door.

  “I was just looking at the cup.” I said.

  He shook his head slowly. “No, Brinmar. It had you. You were about to drink from it.” He accused. His eyes were dangerous slits. My body warmed as he stared down at me.

  I stared back defiantly.

  “No.”

  “Yes.” He said, tilting his head and examined me. “It still has you.” He exclaimed in amazement, glancing up to where I clutched the cup, then back down at my face.

  My body was so warm.

  Eirian straddled my hips, staring down at me with those fierce black eyes, his jaw tensed, eyes filled with curiosity, and not a small amount of amusement.

  God, he was beautiful…and dangerous. I wonder what he tastes like?

  Suddenly, I found myself hungry for something more than water. I smiled up at him, my eyelids dropping.

  Eirian narrowed his eyes at my expression. Then, he flashed me one of his devilishly dark grins.

  “Oh yes. It has you.” He affirmed, shaking his head.

  I ignored his words. They didn’t make any sense to me.

  I was so hungry, and if I couldn’t have what the cup offered, I knew tasting him would sate my hunger.

  “I need you.” I growled up at him, suddenly angry he was just staring at me.

  Didn’t he feel the hunger?

  Eirian gave me an amused look.

  “As delightful as that sounds, darling, I’m not sure you know exactly what you need right now.” He said, his voice deep and seductive.

  I ran my eyes over his broad shoulders and down the thin fabric covering his flat stomach, wanting very much to rip his shirt open, but he still held my hands.

  I cocked an eyebrow in invitation.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t want to taste me, Eirian?”

  I licked my lips and he groaned. There as a stirring at my hips and I felt his desire hardening against me.

  He felt the hunger too.

  His eyes blazed with fire and he leaned forward, bringing his face down until it was hovering just above mine, his black eyes boring into me.

  “Oh, I want to taste you very much, Brinmar. Do you want me to taste you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and stared at me in challenge.

  Hot need flooded through me and I nodded slowly. The smell of him, spicy and musky and sweet washed over me.

  I swallowed.

  Eirian lowered his head. I shuddered with desire as his lips grazed my ear.

  “Are you sure you want me to taste you?” He asked, his voice husky. It poured over me like honey. I quivered beneath him, nodding frantically.

  Black eyes blazed with fire as Eirian lowered his lips. As they touched mine, my entire body flooded with pleasure. He took my lips hungrily, his mouth slanting against mine.

  I responded eagerly, my tongue slipping into his mouth to deepen our kiss. He kissed me back, his rough stubble brushing my lips and face and warming my skin.

  He nipped at my lower lip and I let out a deep groan. I needed him so badly.

  “What the hell?” Siddarth’s voice came from the open door.

  He sounds angry.

  I tried to block the voice out, writhing under Eirian, wanting more than he was giving me. But, at the sound of Siddarth’s voice he pulled away from me, reluctantly breaking off our kiss, but still holding tight to my wrists.

  “Relax. I just wanted a taste.” Eirian said, sounding annoyed.

  “The hell you d
id.” Siddarth said, storming across the room towards us.

  I wondered why he was so angry and why Eirian wasn’t kissing me anymore.

  “She wanted it.” Eirian said. “Didn’t you, Brinmar? You wanted me to kiss you, right?” He coaxed.

  “Yes, I want you to kiss me.” I agreed.

  Siddarth gaped at me in horror. Then he saw the cup in my hand.

  “The cup. The cup has her.”

  He shook his head and glanced back at Eirian. “You would take advantage of her while she’s bespelled by the cup?” he asked, outraged.

  Bespelled? I was bespelled? That sounded like a nice thing to be. But I’m so hungry. Why were these two men just staring at each other? Why weren’t they kissing me?

  Eirian chuckled. “Relax, old man. I was just having a little fun. I know she’s bespelled. It was just a kiss.”

  He shook his head and shifted, moving off of me, releasing my wrists and climbing down from the bed.

  “Where are you going?” I called after him.

  Eirian glanced over his shoulder, his eyes raking over me hungrily. “Sorry sweetheart, maybe another time. Siddarth will take care of you.”

  Upset by his words, I sat up, still clutching the cup, and watched as his dark shape disappeared down the hallway.

  “Brin.” Siddarth said, his voice soft.

  I turned to him curiously.

  “Yes?” I asked, my eyes running over Siddarth. He really was handsome with his dark hair and eyes, and his caramel skin.

  He had a strong jaw and a straight nose, and the most sensual lips. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed before.

  I wonder what his lips taste like.

  I leaned towards him, my lips slightly parted.

  Siddarth eyed me cautiously.

  “Brin, you’re bespelled by the cup.” He said carefully, moving slowly to sit on the bed beside me. “I need you to give it to me.”

  I glanced down at my lap, where I still clutched the cup in my hand.

  “Why? I like the cup. It’s so beautiful.” I said, stroking the rim of the silver chalice with my fingers. The metal was warm and soft, almost like human skin.