by Hanna Peach
“Don’t trust anyone,” Mayrekk had said.
Who else was part of this? Symon? Jovanna? Who else had been lying to her?
Alyx felt her throat closing up. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the chamber. She had to get out of here. She didn’t want to uncover any more. She didn’t want to know any more. She rolled the Thread up, shoved it back into the tube and left it where she found it. She tore out of the chambers and down the corridor, her focus on the exit.
A noise met her ears. She jerked in the air as if electrocuted. Voices were echoing down the corridor. Could the ceremony be finished already?
She threw herself through the nearest door, closing it behind her. She was in another Elder’s chamber. There were no other doorways or windows. The only way out was through the door she just came in. She was trapped.
Alyx pressed her ear to the door. The voices came closer, muffled by the wood and the drum of her heart in her ears. She recognized Elder Michael’s voice and another that she couldn’t quite make out. If Elder Michael had returned, the formal ceremony must be over. This building would be crawling with Elders soon. She had to get out. Now.
She held her breath as the voices passed on the other side of the door and continued down the corridor. When she couldn’t hear them anymore she opened the door a crack. There appeared to be no one in the corridor. She flew from the room, leaving the door open behind her, speeding towards the exit. If she could just get outside…
She could now see daylight coming in from the exit. She was almost there.
More voices floated to her from outside. Alyx looked around for another open door, another chamber to hide in but saw none. She flew up and pressed herself up between the rafters of the corridor ceiling just as three Elders entered the building.
Alyx didn’t breathe as they floated right underneath her. They stopped at one of the locked doors, right beneath her, chatting about the ceremony they had just attended. Sweat gathered across her forehead, threatening to drop. Please move, please.
Finally the Elders parted, one entering his chambers and the other two continuing on. She gnawed at her lip as she followed the tops of their heads with her eyes. They seemed to take forever as they traveled down the corridor.
Only when they were out of sight did she move. She had to hurry. More and more Elders would return and she’d be caught. She flew along the ceiling towards the exit. Once there, she peeked out. She could see no one approaching. This was her chance.
She slipped up under the exit and onto the roof of the Elder-dome. She moved along, keeping low to the thatching, aiming for the cluster of trees closest to the roof’s edge. She slid into the cover of a nearby branch. From there she made her way back to her pod through the thick canopy, her heart still drumming in her chest.
She did it. She escaped without being caught.
Chapter 19
“Did you think you wouldn’t get caught?”
Alyx was pulled out of her sleep that night by Symon’s voice. She was suspended in a sea of black, Symon floating in front of her. They were in a DreamScape but Symon hadn’t bothered to fill it out with a scene.
This wasn’t good.
“Symon? What’s going on?”
“They’re saying you broke into Michael’s chambers. A familia confirms that he saw you sneaking out of the Elder-dome.” Symon searched her eyes. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
Oh God. She had been caught. She swallowed hard. “If you know me then you should know that what I did, I did for good reason.”
“Alyx.” Symon’s face fell. “I raised you better than this.”
No, be angry at me, yell at me, but don’t be disappointed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry. Sorry. You’re always sorry. Why did you steal the Amulet piece?”
Steal? “I didn’t steal anything.”
“You just admitted to entering Elder Michael’s chambers.”
“I did. But I didn’t take anything.”
“Stop lying to me, Alyx. Do you know how serious this is?”
“I didn’t take anything. I swear.” Alyx grabbed Symon’s shoulders. “Tell me you believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Yes it does. It matters to me. Tell me you believe me.”
Symon’s voice dropped. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Her hands fell to her sides. “No.”
“You have to leave Michaelea. Leave and never come back. They’re coming for you.”
“Leave Michaelea…”
“After you cross the wards, you’ll be Rogue,” Symon’s voice faltered. “We must forget that we were family.”
“You don’t mean that.”
His face looked pained. She threw herself at him, her face burying in his chest. He crushed her to him. “I’m sorry, Alyx. I have my orders.”
His words seared her as if he had pierced her through the heart. She knew what he was saying. She would be Rogue, he was a warrior. If he ever caught her, he would bring her in. If he had to hurt her to do it, he would.
“Go,” he whispered. “Angelspeed.” His lips brushed the top of her forehead, light as a feather.
Then he faded. Her fingers grasped at mist.
Alyx’s eyes flew open. She launched out of bed, fingers on the kris from under her pillow. She snatched the ring and a small pouch of mortal coins from her hollow and grabbed her jacket…just as there was a clanking of the blade-chime at her window, a muffled curse and a noise from outside her door.
They were here for her.
Alyx glanced at her other weapons. She had no time. She launched across her pod and kicked out at her wind chime. A blade sank into the soft belly flesh of the lightwarrior crouched at her sill, one of Michael’s personal guards. He cried out in pain. Alyx kicked again at the source of the noise, this time her foot struck against his body. He toppled from the sill with a yell, tearing the wind chime down with him.
Alyx flew out her window and into the chilly night air. On the ground the lightwarrior was pulling the blade from his body and calling for his partner. She wasted no time. She flew down the slope of the mountain, away from the city buildings and towards the training fields. She could hear the lightwarriors coming after her, yelling for backup. They were too close behind her. She wouldn’t make the wards without alerting the patrole guards and being surrounded. What now?
The moon glinted off the Great Lake like a signal. She aimed for it, an idea forming in her head. She drew at the magic from her hidden AirWhisperer tattoo, pulling her palm and flicking her wrist to start the whirl of air. But she was panicking and too much of it dissipated. She tried again. Calm. Must remain calm.
This time she was able to control the Air magic. She threw the Air through the trees away from her path, rustling branches and leaves as it went. Hopefully it would be enough to cause her pursuers to believe that she had kept going through the forest.
Alyx drew WaterBearer into her palm, keeping her movements soft and gentle. She dove towards the lake, making a sweeping motion with her hand. The surface of the lake parted. She slipped into the space below, allowing the water to close around and above her without a splash, like a sliding trapdoor.
Underwater, she stilled her breath. She propelled down towards the training maze she knew so well. The training maze was like an underwater castle made of coral and rock. Inside the maze, corridors and levels twisted and turned in a confusing mess, leading back into itself, or into rooms or dead ends. She moved into the section of the maze where the seaweed had been left to grow long and wild. She slipped into their slippery green arms, ignoring the slimy fingers. She strained to hear over her heartbeat in her ears any muffled noises from above. Here she waited, hoping her little trick had worked.
Chapter 20
Apart from the strain of constantly curling his wings against the suit of human flesh, Samyara quite enjoyed his mortal host. Over a fit and youthful body, despite being well into its fortieth year
, Samyara wore a double-breasted cream suit, pressed and starched, which he thought looked delectable against his cocoa skin. His host had a dark, handsome moustache which Samyara kept trimmed.
Samyara whistled as he strolled down this empty suburban street tonight. He stopped at the borderline of number 11 and number 15, looked up and down to make sure he wasn’t being watched, then slipped through the crack in time/space that was number 13.
Samyara always enjoyed coming to Purgatory. It was the one place on this wretched planet that he felt comfortable going to without a slew of Darkened guards around him. Even a demon lord needs me-time.
Loki the bartender, part-owner, part-demon, greeted him with a small nod. The other patrons, even if they noticed him, left him alone. Samyara moved through the bar to the very back of the room, to the red velvet curtain. Behind was the door leading to Upstairs.
Lady Bluesette, part owner, all-demon, and mistress of Upstairs was sitting behind the obsidian reception desk in her oversized, high-backed armchair. Samyara greeted her with a kiss on the back of her hand.
“Samyara,” she purred. “It’s good to see you again. How may we pleasure you tonight?”
Samyara checked his pocket watch, an antique Jules Jurgensen. His visitor wouldn’t be here for another half hour. He wouldn’t mind passing the time in an enjoyable way.
There hadn’t been a single request that Samyara had made yet that Lady Bluesette had flinched at. At first Samyara had made a little game out of seeing whether he could cause her to blush by asking for more…exotic treatments. But after a particularly messy evening after which Samyara himself felt a sliver of disgust at his own behavior, he stopped trying to shock Lady Bluesette. There was obviously very little that the mistress of Upstairs hadn’t seen.
Samyara made his request. Lady Bluesette nodded and led him down the corridor decorated with black and white flocked-velvet wallpaper and royal blue carpet that his crocodile-skin shoes sank into.
In his favorite room Samyara lounged in a crimson chair. Against one wall was a large black four-poster bed covered in plush midnight and scarlet pillows. The ceiling soared well above him. Three large cages, several beastly chains and two thick silk ribbons dropped down like strange fountains. Along one wall was a rack full of bone-scythes, various shaped fangs and claws set into handles, whips made from demon-tails and weaved Seraphim-hair. In a corner was a thick wooden stock with space for two heads and more chains. One could never have enough chains.
The door opened and the seraphelle named Chastity floated in. She closed the door behind her and greeted Samyara. Face like an African queen, black hair curling around her head in a dark halo, she wore a long white gown with golden cords that wrapped around her breasts in an X.
The “1812 Overture” began to play from the speakers dotted around the room. Samyara smiled. Chastity knew what he liked. Without waiting for any instruction, Chastity soared up towards the ceiling. She began to drop and swirl, letting her dress catch the air, allowing him torturous glimpses of the lace beneath. White lace against creamy dark skin. Just delicious.
Soon, her straps were teased off her shoulders and her dress slipped down her body and over her hips, dropping to the floor in a cascade of fluttering white. Samyara watched, a tranquil smile on his face, as she twisted and rolled above him in the air. She certainly had a tight, flexible body.
She looked like melting chocolate as she descended down one of the ribbons, letting the gold silk slide between her long, dark, naked legs.
Yes, Chastity certainly knew what he liked.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Samyara was shirtless, reclining against the bed and smoking a cigarette when there was a knock. “Come in,” he called.
The door opened to reveal a lime-skinned demonette dressed in a black lace teddy and the hooded figure of a seraph.
“Your guest is here, my lord,” she said as the seraph stepped into the room. “Shall I invite two or three seraphelle in now? A demonette perhaps? Or will it just be you two?”
Samyara smiled, amused, as the hooded seraph recoiled. “This gentleman is a business associate. He is only stopping by for a moment.”
“Certainly.” She backed out of the room giving the seraph a lascivious smile as her tail lashed the air with a suggestive whip. The door closed behind her.
“Greetings, friend,” Samyara said as he jumped from the bed, extinguished his cigarette into an ashtray and strode towards the seraph.
“Let’s not pretend we are friends.”
“Your information about the Black Stone is good. Very good. It has made me very happy. Are you going to make me even happier tonight?”
The seraph nodded. “I have acquired what you asked for.”
“Marvelous.” Samyara’s heart − if the bitter little acorn beating in his chest could be called a heart − trilled. “May I see it?”
The figure put his hand in his cloak, then paused.
Samyara noticed his hesitation. “I have the contract here for you as you asked.” Samyara pulled out a small papyrus scroll from the pocket of his pants and unrolled it, presenting it to the seraph. “This ensures your protection and the portion of Earth over which you will reside as the highest authority once it is mine. Along with your…special request, of course.”
The figure nodded, barely, and reached into his cloak. He pulled out his fist and let the piece tumble from his fingers. It caught at the end of its chain. “One piece of the Trinity Amulet.”
It was beautiful. Samyara’s eyes widened and he reached his fingers towards it. He could almost taste his own victory, the magnitude of this power already bloating within him...
The Amulet was snatched away from his greedy fingers and the seraph returned it to within his cloak. Samyara forced himself to remain composed, although he wanted nothing more than to slash this impertinent seraph from nose to ass. But not in here, the enchantment over Purgatory wouldn’t let him.
“Just sign here,” Samyara said, handing over the contract, forcing his voice to stay breathy and light. No need to show how eager he was.
“I don’t have a pen.”
Samyara smiled. “This kind of contract can only be signed in blood.”
The seraph made a noise under his breath akin to disgust. But he pulled a kris from his cloak, ran his thumb over the tip and smeared his blood across the scroll. He offered the tip of the kris to Samyara, who did the same.
“Done,” Samyara said.
He let the seraph roll the scroll up. It disappeared inside his cloak. Out came the Amulet again. Samyara snatched it from the seraph’s hands and cradled it to his chest. It was all he could do not to kiss the blessed thing.
“You won’t forget the rest of our bargain, will you?” Samyara said. “It’s an unfortunate thing to break a blood contract.”
“I won’t,” the seraph said, turning to leave. The door slammed behind him.
Foolish seraph. Samyara smiled − a thin, cruel little smile. Oh, how he loved it when a plan came together.
Chapter 21
Alyx had now been underwater for several hours. She hadn’t dared move from her hiding place. So far they had not searched the lake for her.
Her plan had been to wait until the final hour before dawn, the hour after all the patrole units had returned, when the ward guards were at the end of their shift and were tired. This would be her greatest chance at getting out.
This was now the hour.
Alyx moved cautiously to the surface of the lake. Here the reeds were thick. They slowed her movements but it meant that she would remain hidden as she waded waist-deep through the water.
She heard movement, a rustling nearby, too large to be animal. Her heart rate soared and she felt her senses pull everything into a sharper focus. She slipped back underwater until only the top of her head was above the surface.
Spying through the reeds, she watched as a hooded figure appeared, floating along the trees around the edge of the lake. Whoever it was, they
were heading into the city. Apparently she wasn’t the only one sneaking around at night.
She couldn’t see who it was, even as the figure passed meters from where she hid. Soon the figure was swallowed by the darkness of the woods beyond. She stayed in the water while she let her heart rate slow.
Hearing no other sound, Alyx slipped out of the lake. She flew low to the ground towards the edge of Michaelea and the beginning of the rest of the world.
* * *
The Regent Theater, once standing proud in a fashionable part of Saint Joseph, was now desolate and forgotten, graffiti staining the tired brick walls. The entrance, which used to be wide doors of glass, had long since been boarded up. The recent storm dripped off the uneven roofline, puddles containing shards of the theater in their reflections.
There was no sign of life. But Alyx knew Israel was inside.
Alyx walked around to the small laneway that ran along the side of the theater, now deserted. There was the side door through which she had seen Israel leave and enter this place through his eyes.
She noticed a small shoddy slit cut out of the door at eye level, covered in a panel of unvarnished wood. She wondered if Israel had done this or perhaps mortals seeking refuge during the last mortal war. Alyx tried to smooth down her hair and hoped that it wasn’t too wild.
She knocked. The sound echoed inside causing the twist of nerves to jangle in her stomach. Would he answer? Would he let her in?
Within minutes, the small panel in the door moved aside and a pair of hazel-brown eyes peeked out. They widened. The door pushed aside. “Alyx?” Israel appeared before her, his right hand holding a lantern to her face.
“I’m sorry to just show up like this but... I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Israel reached out for her and she let herself fall against him. His arms wrapped all the way around her.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. This was all it took to drag a single sob from her lungs. The fingers of his free hand brushed the damp tangles of her hair. “Everything is going to be okay.”
