Veins of Ice
Page 26
“Get out. If I see you on my property again, you’ll regret it.”
“Coming from a jokester, I hardly see the menace in that.”
“You’ll see what I’m capable of if you come here again or hurt Karena.”
“Hurt Karena? I would never. That’s something you and your negligence would do. I would’ve prevented her from landing in the hospital both times. Where were you?”
“Your arrogance sickens me. You think you know everything and how you would handle situations far outside of anyone’s control, including yours.”
“I may not have your sex appeal, but I can outsmart you any day and at any time. You’re just a piece of meat that will get thrown away with the trash when you hit your expiration date,” Tristan said, sneering at him.
“You’ll never have Karena. I was the one who suggested that she should go on that date with you. I should’ve never have suggested such a thing. You’re rotten to the core, and I wish I had seen that earlier.”
“For someone who can’t get it up around her, you sure as hell are protective of her. Tell me, have you gone to bed with her?”
“I’ll leave you to figure that one out. You’re the man with all the answers,” Hadrian said, and threw open the front door.
Tristan glared at him, but like a psychotic maniac, the anger vanished and was replaced by a freaky smile. “I’ll see you at work,” he said.
When Tristan turned to face the front yard, he hesitated. The entire yard convulsed, fully alive with moving, animated plants.
“You had better run,” Hadrian said, and slammed the door shut behind Tristan.
Tristan shouted out protection spells as he dashed to the sidewalk. Hadrian made sure he brushed up against the poisonous red-death shrub hidden by the fence, which would give him a reoccurring rash for weeks to come. Wheels squealing, Tristan drove off.
After what he had just heard, he felt better about Karena dating Asher. Tristan made Asher look like a saint. It was obvious that Tristan had some serious issues, and Karena was in his sights to obtain. It worried him.
Fuming, Hadrian walked outside and sat down on the porch bench. He slowly released his hold on the plants, and they returned to their original resting positions and were still once more. He could’ve done worse things to Tristan than frightening him off. He wondered if he should’ve. Tristan’s obsessive and encroaching behavior towards Karena was alarming. He stewed about the problem at hand, which dwarfed the one posed by Asher. He hoped Asher incinerated him one day soon. It was likely that the two of them would face off at some point due to their interest in Karena.
Though Hadrian didn’t know or want to know what Asher smelled like, he could guess with certainty that the smell in Karena’s room had been from Asher. Inviting a love interest into a bedroom only meant one thing. Karena wasn’t casually dating Asher anymore, she was dating for keeps. Worried about the situation at hand, Hadrian rubbed the right side of his face. His feet bounced, causing his legs to shake. Karena and Asher were going to face some steep challenges ahead. Tristan was a problem, as was the feud. The feud was heating up, and it could boil over, and it would take with it anyone caught on the wrong side.
The evening settled in, and with no sign of Karena.
Chapter 25
Tristan muttered to himself as he swerved through traffic.
“Stupid, pretty boy,” he spat.
When he and Amarine had met Karena and Hadrian in grade school, he had been enamored by Karena, and irritated by Hadrian. That irritation had grown into hatred over the past couple of years. Women swooned over Hadrian, throwing themselves at him, only for him to toy with their hearts and leave them. He was blessed with good looks, and unfairly so. Tristan vowed he would change that, until even his mother shunned him. Perhaps what he hated most was his closeness with Karena. All of the secrets and time that they shared together shook him with jealousy.
After he found Karena, rescued her from wherever she was, and brought her back to that dump of a place Hadrian called home, he would find a way to turn the tables on Hadrian. Hadrian was too close to Karena, far too close. Hadrian should’ve let him go into Karena’s room. Hadrian probably knew where Karena was, but didn’t want to tell him. And then Hadrian had shoved him against the wall, as though he was at fault for something. Tristan wasn’t going to allow Hadrian to take his anger out on him. The mountain of resentment he harbored against Hadrian weighed on Tristan’s mind. Soon, Hadrian would know what he was capable of, and realize his superiority.
Tristan seethed over how careless Hadrian was when it came to Karena. He couldn’t believe she had been in the Fire district. It was no place for her, no place at all. The thought of it made him shake his head over and over again. She needed to be somewhere safe. And cryptid hunting was too dangerous for her as well. He wanted to swoop in and save right that moment before anything happened, but Hadrian was a problem, and no one knew where she was.
Tristan said to himself, “First things first. Find her, bring her home, and make a plan to get rid of Hadrian.” With Hadrian gone, she would be his and his alone.
Tristan sped down the lonesome, country road. His grandfather’s house was on the outskirts of the Water district, and therefore, it was a lengthy commute to work and even to the grocery store. He enjoyed the isolation. He passed by rice fields and cranberry farms.
He made a sharp, left turn onto a dirt driveway and bumped along to the house tucked away behind the waves of dying vegetation. The waist-high grass, the ancient oak trees, the camellia bushes, all of them were brittle and experiencing their last season before summer finished them off with its scorching days.
He parked his car in the carriage house. Its bay door had long since rotted away. With a spring in his step, he walked up to the aged house. The house looked like it was shedding because its paint was peeling in long strips. The roof had bald spots where shingles were missing. Its splintered trim and gingerbread panels were distant reminders of what a treasure in the woods the house had once been.
Though the house was an eyesore, he wasn’t in a rush to fix any of it. He would repaint it and have it reroofed one day, just not that week, and probably not that month. When he had more time, he would. It was the same mantra he had told himself ever since he had inherited the house.
“I’m home,” Tristan called as he marched up the porch steps. The boards bowed under his weight.
The front door creaked open. He stepped inside. Lamps turned on, and a radio began to crackle.
“I have work to do. I’ll talk about my day later,” Tristan said. He slipped his arms from his coat, and hung it up on the crowded coat rack. The house was always warm, as if it was a living being too. By all means, it should’ve been drafty in there.
Though he received no audible answer, he felt one in his head as a wordless agreement. The old man was temperamental, but thankfully, that day he wasn’t.
Tristan regretted alienating himself from his grandfather when he had been a boy. When he had learned about his grandfather’s secret, and the overwhelming hoard of dark materials in his basement, he had refused to see him ever again. It saddened him how confused he had been, and how he hadn’t realized the power that the darkness held over fragile minds. However, after inheriting the house and spending some time in it, he had embraced his grandfather’s secret with love and understanding. And now, they were close. His grandfather was his mentor, and Tristan preserved the house for him.
As he walked through the house, his shoulders brushed against stacks of newspapers, books, and bags of stuff perched on top of each other. Cobwebs, the collectors of just some of the dust in there, wreathed them like grey lace.
In the kitchen, Tristan lifted up the rug, threw open the hatch, and descended down the stairs. Oil lamps turned on in the basement. The musty air greeted him. Excitement swelled inside of him, which always happened when he went down there. There was always a different dark spell or sinister ritual to try. He had all the supplies he could ever want.
He picked his way through the basement, having learned his lesson beforehand about taking his time.
It was like a cozy nest in the basement. Books bound in human flesh, skulls, jars filled with specimens for future potions and spells, and trunks overflowing with paraphernalia occupied the basement. If it didn’t fit on the rows of shelving units, then it was placed in the many towering piles on the floor. So far, he had poked through half of his grandfather’s hoard in the basement, and was making his sweep to the other, though it would be another couple of years until he made it.
Tristan skirted around a tub. Blood residue caked the bottom of it, and a crusting of blood hugged the rim. An old clock ticked on the wall, but its hands never moved forward. The short one remained on the seven, and the long one at the ten. Puppets hung from the ceiling. Some of them twitched, or kicked their tiny feet at his head. Several hatchets and daggers were stuck in the wall, their blades buried a few inches into it. A black orb submerged in a basin of goo roamed inside of its porcelain prison. Black light shone from it. They were just a few of the things in there.
Tristan went to the worktable in the center of the basement. It was the one space that was clear of stuff. He set his hands down on the table, and leaned forward, contemplating what he was going to do.
His grandfather’s voice floated into his head, “You’re so young and inexperienced. You need my help for everything.”
“No, I don’t. I know how to spy on someone from afar. I’ve tried it before,” Tristan said out loud.
“Tried and failed. I’ll watch again and laugh.”
“You’ll be proud of me when I do succeed.”
“I’m always proud of you.”
Tristan took out the scrying bowl from under the table. It was a wide, shallow, silver bowl with etchings all over it, which had been filled in with gold. He carefully measured out liquids, and heated up some silver. He poured them into the bowl and watched the liquids swirl around. Luckily, the mixture didn’t sour like previous times and remained hot.
With a dried-up monkey’s finger, he poked the liquid in the bowl. Random images flickered to life, faded away, and came back again. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Energy drained from him. He pulled out a jar, and plucked a few hairs and some bits of clothing from it. They were Karena’s, things he had sneaked from her without her knowing it. He sprinkled them onto the mixture’s surface. They began to burn, emitting a foul smell. The images changed, seeming to chase something down.
After an agonizing length of time, during which he didn’t know if he was succeeding or failing at the dark spell, Tristan saw Karena. She was smiling. She held up a glass of bubbling soda and sipped on it. His heart skipped for her. She greedily ate from the plate before her, as though she hadn’t eaten in days, and complimented the person in front of her for making the food. Who was this person? It didn’t matter, because this person would soon be a fleeting fancy of hers, and he would be the source of her happiness. He stared into her beautiful face, wanting her, wishing she was looking at him.
Curiosity overtook him. He panned his focus around, and jumped back. The images held, and stayed steady on none other than Asher. Tristan vomited. She was with a Fire, and not just any Fire, it was Asher. He scooped up his vomit from the floor for later use. No matter how disgusting something was, it had a purpose. Nothing went to waste in necromancy. He stared deep into the bowl, feeling himself tremble with anger. Asher had seduced her. Her poor mind was unable to understand much due to its innocence and fragility. Asher had taken advantage of this and she was his victim.
But the images got worse. He watched Asher get up. His shirt was torn. Had she torn it? But only a thug and lowlife like Asher would wear torn shirts. He probably didn’t know what a decent shirt was. Asher pulled back her chair. She laughed and tried to flee. He grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up into his strong arms, and carried her away. She kissed him and blew cold air onto his neck. Tristan’s gaze turned towards the bits of hair and clothing burning on top of the liquid’s surface. They were about to disappear, and then his viewing session would be over. He didn’t have any more hair or bits of clothing from Karena.
Asher took Karena into his bedroom. His bedroom was stately with a tiled floor, a four-poster bed, and stained glass doors that led to a balcony. He set her down on the bed, and they stripped each other to their underwear. Tristan’s eyes widened when he saw Karena in her underwear. How dare Asher put his filthy hands on her! He was a brute, a savage, someone who deserved to be condemned to a lifetime of suffering
Karena snuggled up to Asher. He stroked her back. Due to the food and the hour, they became drowsy. Before they could fall asleep, Asher propped himself up on his elbow to whisper in her ear and kiss her forehead. What were they talking about? What was he going to do to her? She wasn’t safe with him.
The images winked out.
“No, no, no!!!!” Tristan shouted.
Out of rage, he tossed the bowl to the side. It shattered on the cluttered ground. The house shook with fury over the loss of the scrying bowl, but he didn’t care that he had upset his grandfather.
“She’s mine!!! Not yours!! I’m the only one who can touch her!!” he continued to shout. “I’ll kill you. No, worse yet, I’m make sure you’re worse than dead. I’ll send you into the darkest levels of the spiritual realm. I’ll have a wraith devour you. You’ll never be able to return to a physical body for eons. Karena might not be mine in this lifetime, but she will in all future lifetimes if you can’t make it back, and you won’t Asher. And once I’m done securing her destiny, I’ll take care of Hadrian.”
For hours, Tristan ranted, and the house rumbled due to the destroyed scrying bowl.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25