by Rye Brewer
I was thirsty and could’ve used a little assistance in strengthening myself. “No, thank you.” It wasn’t as though I could stay for very long, no matter how much I wanted to. And I did. Very much.
I sat up, taking my time, gauging my abilities. I felt worn out, like a rag which had been wrung dry, but I could sit up without my head spinning. That was a step. I watched with deep curiosity as Felicity moved about the room, stacking small bowls and pitchers.
She needed something to do, and I needed an excuse to observe her. She moved with grace I would’ve sworn was practiced if she’d possessed so much as a scrap of affectation. Everything about her was natural, as graceful as a swan taking flight or a babbling brook flowing over stones the water had worn smooth over time.
I imagined her on my arm. On the one hand, the vision was a beautiful one, one which I wouldn’t want to leave unless I had to and would revisit repeatedly due to the warmth it spread through my body. Even the tips of my toes tingled. Felicity with me.
On the other hand, I was well aware of there being no chance of such a dream coming true. Not if I intended to rule ShadesRealm, as was my denied birthright. The only goal I had ever nursed, one which I’d held close to my heart throughout my years of living just at the edges of the rest of my kind. I would never be permitted to bring her to ShadesRealm with me. It was one thing for my mother to be there—my father had hidden her well in a tower that stretched high into the clouds, and be that as it may, it had been a matter of life-or-death for her. Who with a shred of decency would’ve turned her away? And he was respected, which I was not.
Felicity passed in front of the window, and a beam of moonlight seemed to shine directly on her hair—or her hair had generated the beam and shot it out the window. I wasn’t sure which.
Her braid went silvery-white, and I was nearly consumed by the impulse to reach out and touch it. As though I wanted to be sure it was real. A cool breeze blew in and stirred the fine, loose hairs around her temples, and I caught a passing whiff of some scent that was uniquely her. I could easily lose myself in her. I could find another dream to live for if it meant living with her.
No, no, I couldn’t let my thoughts stray in that direction. I turned my face away from her. I couldn’t think straight when she fell under my gaze. If I wasn’t careful, she’d make me give up everything I’d ever held dear.
Nonetheless, I knew the memory of her hair and those wide, frank, warm, silver eyes would haunt me for the rest of my days.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she murmured. “I was worried about you being unconscious as long as you were.”
“How long was I out?”
“More than a day.”
I had missed an entire day, even more. What a disconcerting notion. Life had gone on without me.
“Can I ask you something?”
I took a chance and turned toward her. I was risking quite a lot by doing it, since there was no thinking clearly when the sight of her intoxicated me the way it did. Her cheeks were pink again, signaling she was about to ask something she felt shy for voicing. I wanted to make it easier on her.
“Of course. Anything you want.”
“Are you really part vampire?”
I almost asked what gave her that idea then remembered the embarrassing slip I’d made on waking. My fangs. Had they frightened her? She didn’t look frightened of me.
“I am.” I hoped it made little difference then wondered why I cared so much whether or not it did. She was no good for me. There could never be a future between us. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder.
If the truth of my lineage disturbed her, she gave no indication.
“And what happened to make you lose consciousness? I, eh, examined you as much as I dared,” she breathed, looking away as the color in her cheeks deepened, “but I found no wound. Nothing to indicate what had happened to bring you to that state.”
I couldn’t tell her that. There was no way to explain it that wouldn’t implicate all of us and reveal much more than I could comfortably share. On top of that was the way her question brought back the circumstances surrounding my incident and the fact I had no idea how things had turned out.
Instead of being honest—which I wanted to, I wanted to share everything with her—I replied, “I should go. There’s much unfinished business for me to take care of back in the human world.”
16
Felicity
I wished I knew what to make of him. I wished he didn’t turn me into a flustered, clumsy fool. Clumsy in my actions, clumsy in my words. Asking clumsy questions. He was right not to answer when I asked how he’d come to fall unconscious. It was no business of mine.
But ever since I had him alone, when they had delivered him to the little room and left me there to tend to him, he’d enraptured me. Even though he’d been unconscious, even though there was no chance of conversation or the slightest semblance of our getting to know each other, I’d felt a connection that was deep. Immediate. Unwavering.
That was before he’d opened his remarkable eyes. I’d examined every inch of his face, tracing with gentle fingertips the curves and planes so different from those of my kind. I had never seen anyone like him, with his dark, soft skin, his strong features. The smooth-shaved head, so perfect and unblemished. His deep voice, murmuring words I couldn’t understand as he traveled through unconsciousness, words in a language foreign to my ears.
I didn’t need to understand. It was as though I’d been deaf my entire life and had suddenly heard my first sound. Everything opened up to me in those hours, an entire side of life which I’d been unaware I was even missing out on. A beauty I had never known existed until he appeared. A beauty which scared me, left me shaking and awed before it. I’d never felt this way before and wondered if others managed to survive it. If so, I had no idea how they managed because I was sure he would crush me under the weight of his perfection.
That was before I saw his eyes. Once they were open—golden and blazing and completely unlike mine or anybody else’s—I was lost for good. Under his spell.
And he was leaving. I must have pushed too hard. I wanted to grab him, hold him, cling to his dark cloak and beg him not to leave me. He couldn’t show me everything I’d missed for so long and then leave me like it meant nothing. I had so many questions, so many unspoken thoughts and feelings I’d never shared with anyone but felt an all-consuming desire to share with him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait for Anissa?” I asked when he stood, brushing his hands over his cloak as if to straighten himself out before going. “She’ll be concerned if she comes back and finds you gone.”
His chuckle was deep, a rumble in his chest. “I think she’ll be all right. We’ll run into one another again. She has a tendency to come and go, seemingly with no game plan. Likely because she never has one.”
I couldn’t help but notice the affection in his voice. Who were they to each other? She obviously cared for him, or else she wouldn’t have begged me to take him under my protection. But why? What was their relationship? I wished I’d had the chance to ask, though it wasn’t my normal style of interacting with others. I didn’t ask questions about things that were none of my business. It seemed as though Allonic had changed me without so much as lifting a finger.
“Besides,” Allonic added, going to the door, “I’m in a bit of a hurry. I can’t wait for Anissa to return.”
“I understand, but, please, don’t think you can merely walk out of here and find your way back so easily. I’ll go with you. There’s a route back to the entrance which takes you through a densely-populated region, and one which skirts that area. You’ll be safer if we take that route.”
“Lead the way.” He smiled. I wished I didn’t have to. I was leading him away from me. But allowing him to be discovered would be far worse.
When we were outside, he took several deep breaths. “The air is so much sweeter here than in the human world. Or the realm which I call home.”
/> “It’s all the plant life,” I explained, gesturing around us. Every surface that could be covered in either moss, grass, or vines was. Along with that were the flowers, the trees, and shrubs. It was easy to overlook the beauty all around me when I’d seen it every day for decades. Seeing it through Allonic’s eyes was a gift. The scent of our night blooming jasmine was stronger, sweeter.
“This is magnificent,” he marveled, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to take in the sight of the Hermitage. I couldn’t take that for granted. It was dazzling and would be for as long as it stood.
“It is. We’re fortunate to live in such a beautiful place,” I agreed.
“You’ve lived here all your life?”
“All of my life,” I repeated.
And there was little chance of ever leaving. I’d never considered it before this very moment—and if I had before now, the thought surely wouldn’t have filled me with disappointment, as it did when I led Allonic through the overgrown field with its tall, wild shrubbery which sat far outside the thickest of the clusters of trees.
I heard voices floating on the evening air, happy ones. The doors and windows carved into the far-off trunks gave off a glow, indicating cooking fires and lit torches. Lanterns hung here and there along the bridges to light the way for those who traveled over them. Looking at all of it through fresh eyes, the mystical beauty took my breath away.
“It’s a wonder any of you get anything done with all of this around you,” Allonic murmured as he trailed behind me. His footfalls were heavy and uncertain through the knee-high grass—I had to remind myself to take my time for his sake. “I would lose myself in it every day, no matter how I tried.”
“It would grow commonplace before long,” I reminded him. “And some of us have quite a lot of work to do.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you had nothing better to do than to admire the trees,” he said with what sounded like a chuckle.
“I’m sure you didn’t.” I wondered if he would ask what I did with my time—I felt the question hanging between us—and asked myself what my response would be if he did.
What would he think if he knew I was trained by a mage? It was only that concern which kept me from asking what he did in his world.
Who was he? How did he spend his days? What did he think about and dream of? It all seemed so silly. He was obviously a serious man. I doubted he took much time to dream.
“You see, I’ve spent my life living in a cave for the most part. A series of caves and tunnels,” he admitted. “It’s how all shades live.”
“You never get to see the sun?” I asked, peering over my shoulder in surprise. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. We needed the sun like we needed water and air.
“Oh, certainly—that is, when I travel to the mouth of the cave and look out over the woods which surround the mountain. You know how dangerous the sun’s rays can be for one with vampire blood,” he explained.
“Our sun doesn’t have that effect,” I said, eager.
“It doesn’t?”
“No. It’s unique to our land.”
“Indeed.” His voice went soft with wonder. “How it must feel, the sun’s rays hitting one’s skin. Warming it. It must be wonderful.”
And I wanted him to feel that. I wanted to promise he’d experience it if he’d only come back. He had to come back.
The entrance was drawing closer with every step. I could feel its energy, and the presence of it sunk my heart like a boulder was chained to it. He’d be gone soon, out of my life. How could someone whose existence had been unknown to me fewer than two days earlier matter so much?
“I suppose this is it,” I said when we reached the entrance, smack dab in the middle of everything.
The energy inside it swirled and shimmered, though I could make out the trees on the other side. Like looking through a smudged piece of glass. Otherwise, there was nothing special about it to denote its presence.
“Fascinating,” he murmured as he examined the entrance to the human world. Everything was a learning experience for him.
I told myself he thought of me the same way. Something new, something interesting. Something to be mildly curious about and file away with other dusty information. He’d lived in a cave, after all. He was only taking in all the new things around him, including me.
What he didn’t do was step through.
“Is everything all right?” I dared ask. “It’s very easy, crossing over. There’s nothing fearsome about leaving our land. Just in case you were wondering.”
He offered a faint smile, as though he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. “I wasn’t concerned. I can throw portals of my own.”
“Oh.” I looked down at the ground, suddenly embarrassed. Would I ever learn when to stay silent? A question Gregor had asked me at least three times a day for as long as I’d acted as his mage-fae.
“I was merely asking myself a question,” Allonic continued as he stroked his chin, gazing into the swirling energy vortex which led to the human world.
“What is it? If you don’t mind,” I added hastily.
“I wondered if you would come through with me. For only a short while,” he explained when my eyes went wide.
“I-I don’t know…” I glanced over my shoulder.
Nothing had changed back there. Everyone enjoyed the lovely night they were having. A few of the lights had gone out over the course of our walk, the lanterns extinguished in favor of a good night’s sleep. They wouldn’t know I was missing. They didn’t even know I was out of the Hermitage yet.
“I promise, you can come right back.”
What was he getting at? Did he have something to show me? Or was he that reluctant to end our time together? I hardly dared hope it was the latter.
“All right,” I decided. It wasn’t as though I’d never gone through, though I hadn’t exactly made a habit of it in the past.
The human world was so much… less than ours. It was the only way I could describe it. But he wanted me to go, so I would go. I would’ve followed him anywhere at that moment.
The air changed the moment I stepped through. That was the first thing I noticed. The next was the lack of vibrancy in the color around us. The distant trees were colorful, I supposed, as far as color could go in the human world. But it was nothing compared to what we’d just left.
The sky was inky black, dotted with distant stars, and the air was cooler than it had been in Avellane. I rubbed my arms, looking around, wondering what he wanted to show me.
The cathedral? I’d seen it.
“Have you ever coursed?” he asked, sounding more like a shy schoolboy than anything else.
It touched me deeply, and I had to smile.
“I’ve heard of coursing. It’s something vampires are able to do, right?”
He nodded.
“Anissa is the first vampire I’ve ever known. And you’re the first shade. My real-life experience is pretty shabby, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that. Limited, perhaps, but that’s not your fault—or mine,” he added with a rueful smile. “At any rate, I wondered if I could course with you. Just back and forth, just for a minute. You’ve shown me so much that’s new. I’ll never forget it. I wanted to give you something in return.”
A warm, delighted tingle started in my toes and moved up through my legs and onward until it reached the top of my head. I couldn’t tell him he’d already given me so much that I’d remember, even when I’d want to forget it for the sake of my wounded heart. There was no way he’d understand. It would only make the last of our time together uncomfortable.
“Didn’t you have work to get to? Weren’t you in a hurry?”
He’d certainly seemed like he was when he’d nearly ran from the Hermitage.
“It can wait for a short while.” As simple as that.
“All right,” I breathed in one burst of air, taking the hand he offered me.
It was warm, smooth, strong. The sort o
f hand that would protect, never hurt, no matter how much stronger it was than mine. Could he feel how nervous he made me?
“Are you ready?” His eyes glowed a warm, brilliant amber as he smiled.
“I think so. This is entirely new. I’m not sure what to expect.”
“I wouldn’t do anything I felt would cause you harm. Just hold on. Don’t let go.”
I only had time to nod before we were off.
Suddenly, the world was rushing past though it felt as if we were standing still. Or, at least, I was. I didn’t have to move my feet. It was almost as if they floated inches off the ground. We existed in a bubble, it seemed. Trees and fences and roads rushed past at breakneck speed.
I looked around in awe of it all, my heart about ready to burst from sheer joy and exhilaration. It was like flying, or as close as I could imagine it.
And all the while, Allonic clasped my hand as though his life depended on it. Not mine—I shuddered to think of what would happen to me if we broke that connection, imagining my body hurtling into a tree trunk or the side of a building, far off in the distance.
When we stopped, it was with disappointment on my part. I wanted to laugh at myself for feeling disappointed, but I was too busy feeling awed at how far we’d gone.
When I looked behind us, I could barely see the cathedral which served as headquarters for the vampire clans. It was a pinpoint on the horizon.
“Shall we go back?” he asked with a grin. I felt him taking me in, gauging how I felt.
I offered a brilliant smile in response.
“Yes. I want to do that again.” I squeezed his hand to show I meant it, and we were on our way in the blink of an eye, the world zipping by us again.
I had never known such excitement, such a rush of pure energy. I wanted to hold on to the moment, live as deep in it as I could, and remember every last sensation. I wanted to take it with me when he was gone.
He stopped at roughly the same place we’d started, and I realized I was laughing when he did.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
