by Hanna Peach
“You actually make wine here?” Alyx asked as she moved through the small path between the barrels.
“Of course,” said Belle. “This is how we generate an income to survive. All who reside here are required to assist with the harvesting and wine making.” Alyx turned and realized that she and Belle were alone on this path – Jordan was nowhere to be seen.
“Now come,” Belle said as she began to lead Alyx back down the rows, “I shall show you to the room in which you are to stay. As soon as we find young Jordan. Ah, I hear him. Go and grab him, will you, my dear, and meet me out front while I just check on some things.”
Alyx continued to float towards where she could hear Jordan. She frowned, was that another voice? Low and with a hint of agitation. Alyx turned a corner and froze.
Jordan and another seraphelle were huddled together against the brick wall of the winery. She was latte-skinned with long raven hair and eyes like a cat. Her body was trapped between Jordan’s arms as he pressed his palms against the wall beside her. Their faces were close. Jordan was looking at her but she was glaring at the ground, her arms folded in front of her generous breasts.
The seraphelle saw Alyx first. “Is this her?” she demanded of Jordan.
He gave her a single nod. She responded by hissing. She pushed away Jordan’s arm and floated out past Alyx, glaring daggers at Alyx as she floated past. Jordan followed but stopped before Alyx to let her float out first.
“And what was that about?” Alyx asked.
Jordan steered Alyx towards the front of the winery. “Rosa and I had...an understanding. I told her we couldn’t see each other anymore. She is upset.”
“An understanding?” Alyx’s voice hitched as her mind raked over what this understanding could have meant.
They had come to the front of the barn where Belle was waiting. Jordan nudged Alyx to hold her questions. In the distance Rosa could be seen storming back to the main buildings, each step pronounced by the roll of her curved hips. An understanding. Of course. With a womanly figure and exotic features like that, it wasn’t a wonder that Jordan had found Rosa attractive enough to come to…an understanding.
Alyx waited for the flush of jealousy to hit her…but it didn’t.
Belle showed Alyx and Jordan to a room in one of the accommodation buildings. It was a simple rustic room with a free-standing closet and a double bed, made homey by a thick-weaved rug that covered most of the rustic wooden flooring.
“I’m afraid I only have one spare room tonight,” she said as Alyx and Jordan moved inside the room. “I hope you don’t mind sharing.”
Jordan and she were to share?
Jordan spoke before Alyx could protest, “We don’t mind.”
“Wonderful. There is a bowl filled with hot water and some towels and soap for you to freshen up with.” Belle indicated the items placed on the chest of drawers. “The Galleria opens to tourists at 9 a.m. and you’ll want to be there first thing before the crowds arrive. Breakfast is served as early as 5 a.m. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Alyx waited until Belle had closed the door behind her before she spun on her heels so that she could glare at him. “You didn’t even ask me what I thought about sharing.”
Jordan looked a little surprised. “So I made the decision for us. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Besides, you heard Belle. This is their only spare room. Would you have me sleep out in the corridor?” he added lightly.
“I’m sure if you sweet-talked her long enough, Rosa would take you back into her bed.”
Jordan pursed his lips, then a look came over his features as they softened. “Is that what this is about? Oh, beauty,” he stepped forward to grab at Alyx’s hands, “your jealousy is adorable but completely unnecessary. I am not interested in Rosa. I thought I made my feelings for you clear.”
Alyx made an exasperated noise and pulled away from Jordan. Was she jealous? Was that why she was so mad?
No. She knew how jealousy felt and this wasn’t it. She was angry that he didn’t ask her opinion, as if her opinion didn’t matter.
She was also terrified at what Jordan’s reaction would be when she told him about Israel. She had to do it, otherwise Dianne would tell him when they returned.
And a part of her was worried about the possibility of having to tell Israel about her kiss with Jordan; then she would also have to explain why Jordan and she had spent the night in the same bed.
Israel. God dammit, why was she still thinking about Israel? She had obviously messed things up so badly between them that she had destroyed what little hope there had been for them. She had to move on.
Things would be easier if she could just be with Jordan. Things were logical with Jordan. If only she could just... Alyx studied Jordan’s face − handsome, lovely. But looking at him didn’t set her heart alight. If only she could learn to feel about Jordan the way she felt for Israel.
Israel. Why did everything have to come back to Israel?
Jordan stepped towards Alyx, placing his arms around her shoulders. “Little beauty, I’m sorry if I upset you. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about with Rosa.”
“Israel and I were together,” Alyx blurted out.
A look of shock came over Jordan’s face before it disappeared underneath stoic features. His hands slipped from her shoulders and he nodded for her to continue.
“It was just one night but…it happened. I needed you to hear it from me.” Jordan said nothing. The silence gaped like a canyon, separating them further and further apart. Alyx couldn’t help but fill it. “I’m sorry that I kept this from you. I just… I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I didn’t mean for this…” Alyx waved her arms haplessly around the room.
“Are you still…?”
Alyx shook her head. No. She had hammered the final coffin nail in their relationship by keeping such a big secret from Israel. “It’s over.”
“But you still…care about him.”
It wasn’t a question. Alyx lowered her eyes. She didn’t have to say anything.
When she looked up again, Jordan was staring at her, his features still impassive.
“Say something,” she blurted out.
He studied her face for a moment before he stepped away. “I think that it is best that I find somewhere else to sleep for tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” Alyx said limply.
Jordan nodded. But he still left. Leaving Alyx alone in the room.
Chapter 25
Israel and Vix clung to the branches of a large pine tree somewhere on the Hengduan Mountains of China, just as the sun was beginning to show over the mountains. Through the leaves Israel could see the high stone walls of the monastery, tipped with bright red ornate spikes. Over the spikes he could see a small group of monks walking in procession, some swinging thuribles smoking with incense, others clasping beads in their fingers. Beyond that were the elegant sloped roofs of the monastery buildings edged in red and gold.
“So there’s something I didn’t tell you that I probably should have,” said Vix.
“Okay,” Israel said, his voice full of hesitancy.
“I didn’t exactly leave the Elder on the best of terms.”
Israel clenched his teeth. “Minor detail. I’m sure he has forgotten all about it…right?”
“Sure.” But Vix didn’t sound convinced. Neither of them spoke for a time. They just stayed there, staring at this monastery in the middle of nowhere. If they never came out, how would the others even know where to find this place? Even Vix had some trouble locating her old home in this remote area of China.
“If we get out of this,” Vix said, “we have to convince the others back in Aradale to leave this Black Stone alone without telling them that the Elder is here or revealing that I used to live here.”
“Why?”
“I promised the Elder that I would never reveal his location or existence to any other Seraphim.” She gave Israel a sly side glance. “You and Xiang are not Seraphim, so I didn
’t break my promise. The Elder, these monks, they are here are in this remote area for a reason. If other Seraphim knew, they would descend upon this peaceful place like locusts.”
Israel nodded.
“You ready?” Vix asked.
Israel swallowed his fears and put on his best bravado-face. “Baby, I was born ready.”
Israel and Vix flew down to the ground and walked towards the great front gate. After pulling on the little bell at the gate, a small piece of wood in the heavy wooden door slid aside and the face of a young monk appeared. He was perhaps in his mid-teens, his shaven head making his dark almond eyes seem all the larger. Vix greeted the boy in what Israel assumed to be the local dialect. He caught the word “Elder” in her speech, which made the boy’s eyes widen further. He bowed and shut the piece of wood.
Vix lowered herself to the ground and folded her legs under her.
“What now?” asked Israel.
“Now, we wait.”
It was perhaps an hour, maybe more, before they heard noise behind the door. The door finally opened, revealing the young boy who had originally greeted them and a procession of half a dozen monks with him. Vix and Israel were let inside and the gate was shut and locked behind them.
They weren’t inside the monastery, Israel realized, but some sort of outer area made up of gardens. A long path through the gardens stretched out in front of them, leading up towards what Israel could see was another wall with another great door.
The young boy chirped something out. Israel followed Vix’s lead as she followed this young monk through the monastery, the older monks flanking their sides and rear. Israel stared at the young boy practically skipping along in front of them. Any minute now, the boy would trip on the hems of his orange robe, which were just a smidge too long for him.
They didn’t make it to the second gate. Instead they were led into a flat empty section of this outer garden. A man, robed like his compatriots in orange, stood waiting for them.
“Elder,” Vix’s voice was uncertain and full of reverie. She seemed uncertain of what to do next.
The man smiled. He opened his arms and said, “Vixen. It has been too long.”
Vix cried out and rushed to embrace the man. Israel hung back so as not to disturb their reunion. Vix and the Elder continued talking until Vix moved to one side and held an arm out to Israel. Israel stepped forward and smiled.
Now Israel could clearly study the Elder. He was a pale, thin man. He could have been in his late thirties if not for his green eyes that twinkled with the exuberance of youth mixed with the sharpness of a man who had the wisdom of the ages. He seemed to barely move as he watched Israel. He didn’t waste anything – not a word or a step. Everything had purpose. This was the sense that Israel got from him.
The Elder called out a string of words in a language Israel didn’t understand, musical but harsh, like the singing of a blade. Vix’s face contorted. Israel didn’t have to know what was being said to realize that this was not good. Not good at all.
Israel heard the monks who stood behind him spring to life. Israel spun and braced himself as they raced forward towards him. There were half a dozen monks against Vix and him. He may, if he were lucky, take two of them down with him before they overpowered him. Perhaps Vix could get three.
As Israel blocked the first attack, he barely heard Vix screaming for them to stop, her words sounding hurt and desperate. At least they hadn’t drawn their weapons, which meant they didn’t want him dead. Yet.
Damn Vix for convincing him not to bring their blades with them. “They would see it as a threat,” she had said.
Israel moved around and under their attacks, returning each one with a punch or kick of his own. He realized that he was faster and stronger than the monks as his fist collided with a monk’s stomach, causing him to fly back like a rag doll.
If I can take out demons, mere mortals shouldn’t be as big a problem, right? Israel thought, trying to keep up his confidence as he faced the attack by the six monks.
Israel managed to knock out one of the monks and duck two more attacks before one fist, then another caught him in the side, partially knocking the breath out of him. A kick to the back of his left leg brought him down to his knees. A high kick caught the side of his head, pulling him down to the dirt.
Before he could push himself up, he heard swords being unsheathed. The appearance of sword points held him in place. Through sets of robed legs he could see that the Elder hadn’t even moved yet.
Israel was hoisted upright. He found his feet and stood, held in place from all sides again by his cage of swords.
Vix had two monks flanking her. Disbelief of the Elder’s betrayal kept her eyes wide. Israel spat blood and grit out of his mouth, coloring the ground.
At least, Israel thought dryly, if they kill me, I won’t have to clean up after myself.
The monks directed him forward until he was face to face with the pale man. The Elder stared at Israel before reaching out with a thin hand. He heard something rip. Israel looked down and realized the man had torn his shirt. The Elder was staring at his chest, his hand held out inches from his skin as if to touch him. There wasn’t a thread of emotion on this Elder’s face that would explain his behavior. What kind of weird game was this old guy playing?
Elders. He’d only met two, Michael and this guy, and both of them turned out to be assholes. Israel couldn’t decide whether he disliked the Darkened or the Elders more.
Israel called the Elder a few choice words, causing Vix to gasp. The Elder looked up into Israel’s face now. Oddly enough, the Elder seemed amused and not at all angry at being likened to various kinds of excrement.
The Elder barked out another string of words, and immediately all the points of the swords began forcing him one way. Israel glanced over at Vix. They were leading her, too. It seemed, if this were at all possible, that her eyes had grown more desperate.
“Vix,” he called out, “what the hell is going on?”
Israel had to yell at her again before she found her voice.
“A test.” He could barely hear her over the crush of feet across the dirt as the monks continued to poke him in a particular direction.
The Elder was walking alongside them. It may have been Israel’s imagination, but he seemed to make no sound when his feet hit the ground.
“A test?”
“To see whether you are who I say you are. Proof.”
Israel felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Tests were never good. “What kind of test?”
Vix just shook her head, looking so forlorn and dejected that he may have even felt sorry for her if his ass wasn’t on the line. “I can’t say.”
“Vix,” Israel insisted as loud as he could, “what kind of test?”
Vix just continued to shake her head. Crap. Whatever he was being thrown into, he would have to handle it himself. Vix had obviously lost her ability to cope.
So a test. Tests aren’t so bad, right? Hopefully it would be some kind of sit-down general knowledge test. Somehow he didn’t think so.
Okay, so the plan was…ace the test, then get them both out of there. Easy, right?
Israel gulped. He found himself at the edge of a wide rectangular hole in the ground about five meters long and several meters wide. About twenty meters away, on the other side of the hole, separated by a wooden platform, the Elder stood with Vix still being held by her two guards. Across the hole was a row of bamboo sticks that rose out of the bottom of the hole to ground level. Sticking out from the base of the hole were the sharpened ends of shorter bamboo sticks, hundreds of them. This was definitely not a sit-down general knowledge kind of test.
The Elder made a motion with his fingers, and Israel heard a rhythmic clicking noise. It was then that Israel noticed the man cranking some kind of wooden gear. Israel’s eyes widened.
“Oh crap,” he murmured to himself.
The wooden platform was receding towards where Vix and the Elder stood, revealing mo
re of the same twisted hell-hole before him. It was then that Israel noticed dark stains on some of the sharpened bamboo. Was that...blood?
The gear stopped cranking. The hole was now about three times the original length.
The Elder yelled out something indistinguishable to Israel’s ears. The swords holding him in place began to push him over the edge. He hissed as the sharpened edges began to pierce his skin as he resisted moving forward. Stabbed from the back or fall into a pit and stabbed from the front. What a choice.
Israel felt the sensation of tottering. The edge of the hole started to crumble under his feet. A sharp jab at his back made him flinch, which was enough to displace his weight forward. He felt himself falling.
His instincts kicked into gear. He bent his knees into the fall and pushed himself off the side of the edge, his fingers splayed out in front of him as he arced in the air, aiming for the first tall bamboo stick. He landed on it with his hands and it wobbled. He had to keep moving.
Just like parkour, he told himself as he pushed off the first bamboo stick. Just think of this as an urban obstacle course.
Parkour. The movements of his muscles were so familiar and soothing. Israel’s body took over. He flipped and spun in the air, using the taller “safe” bamboo sticks as touch points before lifting off into the air again. He became almost weightless, his body exhilarating at its chance to be freed from his mind.
When Israel’s feet landed on the platform in front of the Elder, he was ready. Immediately Israel dropped to the ground and swung his leg to sweep the Elder’s feet from under him. The Elder had no sooner hit the ground than Israel was on him, a forearm to his throat.
“I’ve passed your damn test, so call off your damn guards and quit playing games. We’re here trying to warn you.”
Israel heard Vix gasp. For a moment nobody moved.
A smile broke out across the Elder’s face and a deep laugh came from his mouth. Israel frowned, confused. Was this guy serious? Israel had him by the throat and all he could do was laugh?
