Bitter Ashes (Bitter Ashes Book 1)

by Sara C. Roethle

  “What if I had died sooner? Would my corpse have walked right out of the morgue?”

  Alaric laughed. “We had more than one reason for keeping an eye on you. If you had died, your body would have been brought here.”

  I somehow didn't find that comforting. “What if I had died in a plane crash, and my body ended up at the bottom of the ocean. What then?”

  Alaric glanced at me in surprise, then looked away quickly. “Then I suppose we'd hear of sightings of zombie mermaids in the news.”

  He'd meant it as a joke, but the idea of my corpse walking around after I was dead gave me goosebumps. I shook my head, then dunked my hair in the water again, trying to get warm. I stayed that way for a while, but couldn't seem to wash away the cold, because it wasn't that kind of cold.

  When I was finished, Alaric handed me two towels, one for my hair and one for my body. It was oddly considerate. Then again, with the length of his hair he probably had to use two towels too.

  He turned his back so I could step out of the tub and dry off. It only dawned on me as I finished drying myself that I didn't have any clean clothes to change into. At a loss, I wrapped the towel I'd used on my body tightly around me, then tapped Alaric on the shoulder.

  Now, when someone turns around to see you, you usually expect them to take a step back to make room. Alaric turned around without the step back, and was suddenly very close to me. His pants brushed against the bottom edge of my towel, moving the fabric ever so slightly. Luckily the smaller amount of blood he'd gotten on him was already dry and didn't transfer to the clean towel.

  I slowly moved my eyes upward, feeling nervous and perhaps a little bit of something else. Alaric looked down at me with a knowing smile, eliciting goosebumps up and down my arms once again. I eyed him warily, feeling small and vulnerable, but he didn't move out of my way.

  “If my gift is death, like you say,” I began carefully, “then shouldn't you be afraid of me?”

  “You would bring a swift death to a human,” he replied. “But I would only fear you if I were severely weakened.” He smoothed a hand down my bare arm.

  “You're really going to kidnap me, then hit on me?” I asked, pulling away from his touch.

  He smiled, not in the least bit offended. “I am simply letting you know your options. The choice remains yours.”

  “So I have the choice of whether or not I sleep with you, but not the choice of leaving this place?” I asked, now with a hint of anger in my tone.

  Alaric raised his hands in an I give up gesture. “That second choice is not mine to give. I would not offer you a lie.”

  A subtle throbbing was beginning to grow between my eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose to ease the pain.

  “I'm very tired,” I said, hoping to end the conversation.

  This time when I was left in my room, I really would sleep. I felt unsteady on my feet just standing there. Alaric nodded and led me out of the bathroom and back down the hallway toward the room I'd been given.

  He stayed in the doorway of my bedroom, forcing me to squeeze by him in order to go inside. I half-expected him to follow me in, but he remained in the threshold. After a moment he stepped back to close the door for me, though he left it open long enough for him to peek his head back inside and leave a standing offer for him to be my “snuggle buddy”.

  I refused his offer. I needed a snuggle buddy like I needed hepatitis.

  Chapter Four

  I fell asleep almost instantly, and if I dreamed, I didn't remember. I woke up confused as to where I was, until the memories of the previous day came flooding back to me.

  Had all of that occurred in just one day? I thought about my little house, and the fact that no one would have yet noticed that I was missing from it. No one knew that I hadn't spent the last two nights safely tucked into my bed.

  I was still sitting in bed dazed and confused when Sophie came inside without a knock. She glared down at me still snuggled in bed, annoyance clear on her face.

  “Get dressed,” she ordered. “Breakfast first, then you have a job to do.”

  The job they had brought me back for was the position of executioner. Did they want me to kill someone?

  “I-I don't feel well,” I stammered. “I should probably just stay in bed today.”

  Sophie ignored me as she went through my drawers in search of something for me to wear. Finally she threw a pair of blue jeans and an olive colored tank top at me. Next came a clean bra, underwear, and a pair of socks that nearly hit me in the head. Once she was finished flinging fabric, she stood at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  I rolled out of bed and got dressed quickly, not wanting her to throw something more substantial than socks at me.

  When I was finished she looked me up and down then said, “You know where the bathroom is. You'll find a toothbrush and whatever else you might need. I'll be waiting in the kitchen.”

  With that, she was gone, leaving me to fret over just what the “job” might be by myself. I peeked out into the hall to verify that the coast was clear, then hurried into the bathroom where I promptly locked the door behind me. I took as long as I possibly could to brush my teeth and put on deodorant, with supplies found in the little basket that had held the soap, but eventually I had to admit to myself that I couldn't just stay in the bathroom forever.

  I was grudgingly beginning to not just think about escape, but how best to survive as long as I was trapped. The Vaettir had verified what I had always somehow known about Matthew. That experience had kept me chaste and alone, for fear of it ever happening with someone else.

  Yet, maybe there was some way to control when it happened. If I could control it, I would be free to live an actual life. That was, of course, if I could not only learn control, but then escape my captors in one piece. The latter was seeming less and less likely.

  Finally, I took a deep breath and went out into the hall, heading straight for the kitchen. I could have searched for a way out again, but my last two attempts at escaping hadn't gone over terribly well. Perhaps soon I'd find out where the exit was, then I'd stand a better chance of actually reaching it.

  Sophie was waiting in the kitchen as promised, but so were Alaric and James. Sophie and Alaric were both dressed in all black again. It would have almost been cliché if it didn't look so good on them. They were also both sipping on coffee, while James had tea. I couldn't tell what kind it was, but the little green leaflet hanging from the string hinted at herbal. I liked him less and less.

  Sophie handed a cup of already poured coffee to me as I entered the room and went to stand by her. The division between the coffee drinkers and the non was highly apparent.

  I eyed James nervously and he eyed me right back, sipping his tea with a secretive smile. The smile made me more uncomfortable than a thousand angry glares ever could. His golden hair was still damp enough from his shower to leave small dark stains around the collar of his charcoal gray shirt. The dark color of the shirt made the icy color of his eyes even more pronounced.

  I suddenly felt nervous enough to throw up, and had to take a sip of coffee to keep it down. James smiled a little wider.

  A woman I hadn't met yet came walking into the kitchen. She was shorter than me, around 5'4”, and had dark hair cropped closely to her head. She turned large, honey colored eyes to me and gave me a look of dismissal, then turned her eyes to James.

  “Estus wants her now,” she announced, as if I was no longer even there.

  “Looks like breakfast will have to wait,” James said to me warmly.

  I forced a smile in response. I wouldn't have been able to keep any food down regardless. I looked to Sophie to lead the way, but she only looked apologetically at me and nodded toward James.

  When I still didn't move, James took hold of my arm and pulled me forward. Alaric watched us quietly as I was pulled away. The nameless, short-haired woman went ahead of James and I, then disappeared down the hallway. I
looked over my shoulder for one final glance at Alaric and Sophie, but they had turned to speak quietly to each other, and didn't see me.

  I looked forward as we made our way out into the hall. Judging by the path we took, I began to suspect that we were going to the room where I'd been attacked by the hand. Call it intuition, but I had a feeling that was a room James frequented. My feeling of dread increased as we approached the door, but we ended up going past it and into the room immediately after it.

  This new room was cleaner than the one I'd visited, but just barely. This room also had a full man, and not just a hand. The man hung limply from a set of manacles hammered into the wall. His chest was bare except for a decoration of deep cuts and bruises across his tanned skin. Blood had soaked into his blue jeans, staining the fabric.

  The man looked up from under sweat-matted hair as we entered the room. At first the look was distant, but as he noticed me his eyes widened and he began to struggle against the manacles. He thrashed about, revealing that in addition to his other injuries, he was missing an ear. All that was left in its place was a bloody hole.

  “No,” he pleaded as he looked over to the side of the room. “Please. I told you I had no choice.”

  It was only then that I noticed Estus standing in the corner, looking dispassionately at the man. He was still in the loose, blue that I'd first met him in. The clothing made him look like some sort of monk, but the tortured man begging him for his life kind of ruined the picture.

  I tried to jerk away from James, but he held my arm tight enough to bruise. The short-haired woman stood to my other side. She didn't speak, but it was obvious by her expression that she wasn't enjoying the show any more than I was.

  “Please,” the man pleaded, looking at me now. “Please don't do this.”

  I looked away from the fear in the man's eyes. The fact that I was the source of that fear, and not the people who had tortured him, hurt my heart. I could feel what had been done to the man just as I could often feel the wounds of others, and I could taste his fear like cloying perfume on the back of my tongue.

  As James dragged me forward, the fear and pain increased. By the time I stood directly in front of the man, his emotions were almost unbearable. In addition to his fear, I felt sadness and loss. He loved someone, and now knew that he would never see her again. I closed my eyes and shook my head over and over, trying to diffuse the emotions before they overcame me.

  “What is she doing?” the short-haired woman asked. “Why isn't she finishing this?”

  “It will come with time,” Estus explained. “Her nature will take over. This is what she was born for.”

  I heard someone saying, “No, no, no,” over and over again, and realized that it was me.

  “Just do it!” the man broke down and shouted, flinging spittle in my face.

  His pain was palpable. I thought that if I could reach out and touch it, I could ease that pain. I wanted to reach out and touch it. It pulsed in front of me. I had taken several steps toward him without even realizing it. I began to reach out a hand. No. If I touched him, he would die.

  James pushed me forward so that the man's face was only inches from mine. The man could have tried to kick me or head-butt me, but he didn't. I felt his defeat and bitterness. He had given up.

  “Please,” the man whispered right against my face. “Please just let it be over before my body gives out. I know I'm not getting out of here alive, and I don't want to be stuck in a corpse.”

  “Stuck in a corpse?” I questioned distantly.

  I squeezed my eyes shut in attempt to block everything out. I could hear and feel the man as he began to cry.

  “If we kill him and you do not release him,” Estus said from across the room. “A part of his spirit will remain in his body, forever.”

  It was just like Sophie had said, but the gravity of it only hit me just then. Part of his soul would be trapped for eternity. What would happen to the rest of his soul if it was missing a part? I felt sick. I wasn't even sure if I believed in souls.

  I opened my eyes to see the man's face again. His eyes were a light brown with flecks of green in them. He obviously believed what Estus said. His eyes pleaded with me to act.

  I slowly reached my hand up and cradled his face, knowing what to do even though it had never been taught to me. Images flashed through my mind of a woman, and I almost pulled away. I felt his love for the woman, and his sorrow in knowing he would never see her again. I did my best to take that sorrow away. I held the man's gaze as the light faded from his eyes. His energy soaked into me in a warm rush as it left him.

  “Thank you,” he whispered with his last breath.

  I turned back to the room, feeling awestricken. I noticed a figure in the doorway. Alaric stood framed in the light of the brighter hallway, watching me calmly.

  He offered me a solemn smile and said, “Not always a gift, but not always a curse either.”

  I wanted to run out of the room, but seemed incapable of moving my feet. I had just killed a man, and didn't even know what his crime had been. I had felt his emotions to the very end.

  “What did he do?” I asked to no one in particular.

  “He fought for the wrong side,” Estus answered apathetically.

  I glared at him as anger bubbled up inside of me. I felt giddy with the man's residual energy, and I could still taste his bitterness on the back of my tongue. It spurred my rage on. His memories clung to me, chastising me for what I'd done, even though he'd asked me to do it.

  “You took him away from someone who loved him!” I shouted as I walked toward the old man. The dead man's loss felt like my own. I thought of the woman who'd survived him, and how I’d felt when Matthew died. “What did she do to deserve this?”

  Estus held his ground, and stared back at me, daring me to act.

  “How could you possibly know that?” James asked from behind me.

  I spun on him. “I felt it!” I cried. “I saw her. She was the last thing he thought of. His greatest concern was the idea of never seeing her again.”

  “Interesting,” Estus commented. “An empath and an executioner. I do not envy you, my child.”

  I turned back to the old man. I said very slowly, emphasizing each word, “I will not be doing that again.”

  “This is war, Madeline,” he replied. “We all do what we must.”

  “What war?” I spat gesturing back to the corpse on the wall. “I don't see any battles happening! All I see is torture.”

  Tears were running steadily down my face, and I couldn't seem to stop them. The man's last emotion was just too much for me to digest. The images of the one he loved were already fading from my mind, but the emotion was as fresh as ever.

  “Not all war is battle and bloodshed,” Estus replied, finally letting a hint of his own emotion show through. “And I will not let my people get slaughtered because of one squeamish executioner.”

  “What do I even have to do with it!” I shouted. “Killing that man did not stop this alleged war!” I knew I was bordering on hysteria, but I just couldn't stop myself.

  Estus walked forward. “Without an executioner,” he said very carefully. “We do not truly die. Would you leave us all to that fate?”

  “This can't be my responsibility alone,” I sobbed. “There must be another way.”

  Estus sneered, making me wonder if the kindly old man act had ever even existed. “We could have chopped that man up and put him in ten different boxes, and still some part of him would have lived. He would no longer have thought or spoken, but the life force would have remained.”

  A horrifying realization dawned on me. “Is that what you did to the last executioner?” I asked. “Is the rest of him still alive in a box somewhere.”

  “It is a fate befitting his crimes,” James said from beside me. I hadn't noticed how close he was standing to me until just then.

  I took a step away from him. “Take me to him,” I demanded.

  Estus smiled. “So
, you would kill another?”

  “You owe me for this,” I gestured wildly to the dead man. “Now take me to him.”

  Estus simply nodded and walked toward the door. I followed him, but everyone else stayed put. Alaric stepped out of the doorway as we walked by to give us space. I followed Estus out into the hall, then into the room where I'd found the hand.

  “I see you have already met with part of him,” Estus commented as he kicked the dead hand aside.

  He walked to the wall with the cages and felt across the stones. A brush of his fingertips revealed a handle I hadn't seen before. Estus gripped the handle and pulled, causing the stone to come out of the wall like a drawer.

  I didn't want to look into the drawer. I knew it would be something horrific and bloody, but I also knew that the life, or soul, or whatever you wanted to call it, was still trapped inside this man's dismembered corpse. It wasn't right.

  Estus stepped away from the drawer to make room for me. Before I could think better of it, I walked forward, avoiding blood puddles as I went, and looked down into the box. Inside was a human heart. It didn't beat, yet blood seeped steadily out of the severed ventricles. The box wasn't sealed at the edges, and the blood dripped through the cracks onto the floor. I felt rage and betrayal radiating from the heart, and somehow knew that it could sense my presence.

  “The heart is the key,” Estus informed me. “Release the heart and the soul is free.”

  I reached down and stroked a finger across the heart. I should have been horrified, but I was more intrigued by the heart than anything else. The muscle that composed the thing felt thick and alive. I willed the life out of the heart, but nothing happened.

  “It's not working,” I whispered to myself.

  “Do what you did in the other room,” Estus advised as if I'd been talking to him. “Do not will the life away. Take its pain.”