Dust: A Bloods Book

by Andra Leigh

  “You look good,” Juliette said.

  “So do you.” Eliscity lowered herself to the grass, mimicking Juliette’s posture. She was struck by how young she looked. It wasn’t just that she didn’t look a day older than when Eliscity had buried her body in the Cityel sand. Alive Juliette had been a few years younger than her, but it had never shown. Eliscity had been scared and confused, with no memory of who she was, while Juliette had been sure about not only the past but the future. Yet sitting in front of her now, surrounded by nature and bright colours, Eliscity could only see how young she had been.

  “Are you all my mind has to offer me about my past?”

  Juliette grinned, her ringlets bouncing around her as she shook her head in amusement. “This is just your imagination. Something pretty and calming. A sanctuary.” She studied the garden for a moment. “I would have chosen something more rustic.”

  “I didn’t choose this.”

  “Yes, you did. This is peace to you.”

  Eliscity ran her hands over the grass around her. “Why?”

  “I see the future, not the past.” Juliette rolled her eyes. “Follow the paths, Eliscity.”

  “Where do they go?”

  “Back,” Juliette answered simply.

  “Look back, but don’t come back,” Eliscity recited. “I’ve been told I should just try to live in the present.”

  Juliette’s hazel eyes locked onto her, serious and intense. It was the same expression she had worn when Eliscity had first awoken in the Clinic with no memory, the adamant premonition spilling from her lips. After that it was an expression Eliscity came to associate with such assurances.

  “There’s time to do that after you find your past,” came the next assurance.

  “But don’t come back…” Eliscity muttered to herself. They’d been Juliette’s dying words, yet here she was. “Can you come with me? Down the paths, I mean.”

  “I’m just part of your imagination.”

  Eliscity sighed. “Great, I do have madness in me.”

  Juliette laughed as Eliscity climbed to her feet.

  “Have fun,” she teased, before reclining back in the grass and vanishing.

  Eliscity stared at the patch of grass a moment longer before contemplating the countless twisting paths in front of her, wondering which one to take.

  In the end she went to her left, stepping onto a broken brick pathway. She tripped along it for what she thought was a while, choosing turns and forks along the way that she didn’t bother to keep track of. She sensed it would be impossible anyway. It was well and truly a maze. Just like Laleita had said. She was thinking how, if their connection broke, at least she would be lost in a place of beauty when she came across a stone hearth sitting in the centre of her path. A fire crackled in it, its many tongues tasting the air. Curious, she approached it. The heat washed over her skin, making her tired. Before she could gain her balance, she closed her eyes and felt herself plunge into darkness.

  The darkness was so thick she could feel it climb over her skin. She was submerged in it.

  Slowly the feeling of the darkness retreated. Warmth spread over her, the back of her eyelids turned deep orange.

  Her eyes opened. The fire now flickered sideways in the hearth. No, that wasn’t right. She was lying sideways, facing the fire. As she felt the cushioning of a soft rug beneath her body she realised the stone grate no longer stood as an obstacle in her path. It was set into the wall of a house. A house she had just woken up in.

  She tried to sit up, but couldn’t. Panicking, she struggled within her body to move, to no avail. Suddenly, without meaning to, her hand brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and pushed her up to her knees. Looking down, her hand lifted itself and smoothed down the bulk of the dress she wore. Red splotches blossomed over her exposed flesh, from where the fire’s heat had grown over her like roses. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see the rest of the room was dim with night. She wanted, desperately, to look around the room she sat in and figure out where she was, but she couldn’t make her body obey her.

  She heard herself swear quietly, then her body started climbing to her feet. She watched her hands fumble for a log and toss it on the flames. Wiping her hands, she caught a glimpse of her palms. With a jolt, she realised she had no insignias.

  Within her body Eliscity stopped panicking. She realised what was happening. She was in a memory. She had done it. Of course she couldn’t control her body, she could only go where she had gone in the past.

  Relaxing, she let the memory take her where it was supposed to go. She lifted a candle’s wick to the fire and carried it with her as she retreated from the hearth, the cold of the night creeping into her bones. As she navigated through the room, shadows danced on the walls, hiding from the flickering glow of the fire under worn furniture.

  Eliscity, stuck inside her younger body, took in everything around her. This was her childhood home. It had to be. She left the sitting room with its blazing fire and stepped through into a high ceilinged hallway. A curving staircase ascended to the second landing, its wooden banister giving off a dull shine in the candle’s light.

  She expected herself to turn towards it, but she was taken in the opposite direction, to what looked to be the front door.

  As she opened the door, she could feel the tension in her past’s body. It was trying to do it quietly. Whatever she was doing, it obviously involved sneaking out of the house. Leaving the candle behind she eased the door shut behind her and turned into the night. Within her mind Eliscity got a surprise. They – she – was not in a city, but rather on a farm. A wraparound porch littered with shovels and muddy boots descended into a well trodden lawn with messy flower beds. To her left, sweet and tangy aromas from a vegetable patch mingled with the scent of damp earth and animals. She could just make out some goats and mules grazing behind a far off fence, before the night swallowed up the sights.

  Barefooted, she hurried around the right side of the house and sprinted across a paddock. The long grass tickled her legs as she ran, the bottom of her dress picking up mud and moisture. She ran until her lungs burned. Eliscity wondered where she was going. She appeared to be moving away from the smattering of houses and barns and toward a low valley of trees, but she couldn’t see anything that resembled a destination. As her pace slowed and her eyes searched the moonlit trees, she realised this was her destination.

  Coming to a stop, her arms wrapped around her stomach, as if trying to hold the scared tense feeling that was washing through her still. The shadow of a tree moved to her right. Stepping forward it became a shadow of someone. At the sight of it, a shaky sigh escaped her as the fear in her stomach was smothered by butterflies that warmed her chest.

  “I was afraid you weren’t coming,” the shadow said in a deep, rough voice she recognised immediately. It was the voice of her hallucinations.

  Eliscity felt a thrill dance across her mind that was unrelated to what her past’s body was feeling. He was real. Here was proof, standing right in front of her, that she wasn’t mad.

  As the shadow stepped into the moon’s light and she got her first look at him, she found herself thanking the Dead that he was real. Gentle green eyes, a strong jaw, messy sandy brown hair and farm made muscles. He was opposites. Gentle but strong. Chiselled and defined yet he was young, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. She assumed she must be around the same age. He made both her past and her present self feel safe and content just by looking at him.

  “I fell asleep.” A slight hysterical laugh coloured her reply. “Can you believe that?”

  “It was a long day.” He was solemn.

  “Longer day tomorrow.” Her face turned skyward, scanning the stars. “I loved long days.”

  She heard him move closer. “Me too.”

  Tilting her head to look at him she saw his quiet smile quirk as a glint of amusement crossed his features. “You have no shoes on.”

  Her cold toes wiggled under the hem of her dress. �
��I was in a hurry,” she confessed with a laugh she failed to suppress.

  Suddenly the ground disappeared from beneath her feet as she was swept up into the arms of the man that haunted her present. Emitting giggles she didn’t know she had ever been capable of, she squirmed in his hold as he easily held her and tickled her feet at the same time.

  “Nahhh,” she squealed. “Drae! Stop.”

  Inside her body she clung to his name. Drae. Her green-eyed, calloused hand, darn good kisser of a hallucination had a name.

  Together they fell against a tree trunk, sliding down to the ground to sit in one big tangle of limbs. Never had Eliscity felt so comfortable. Her body snuggled into Drae, fitting perfectly against him.

  “Your feet are cold,” he muttered, his lips pressed against her cheekbone as he tucked her feet under her skirts.

  “Freezing,” she sighed. “Good thing you’re warm.”

  “It comes from knowing how to properly dress myself.” He wiggled his boot-clad feet.

  Laughing she said, “So that’s the secret.”

  There was a rustle from the woods, animal-like panting, the sound of a speedy approach then something heavy hit her lap. Looking down she found a shivering white bundle of fur huddled into her, deposited there by an extremely proud looking black and white dog.

  “Naw, Chief, you shouldn’t have,” she chuckled, scratching the excited dog behind the ear.

  “Another bunny?” Drae asked with his rich, rumbling laugh.

  Carefully she lifted the quivering creature, looking into its frightened red eyes. It appeared to be unhurt.

  “Chief really is beginning to put me to shame. His gifts are always so much more adorable than mine.”

  “I’m just glad he never dumps his kills in my lap, just scared little fur balls. I swear this is the same one as last time.” She held the bunny up for Drae to look at. “See the little nick in its ear. Are you tormenting the same poor bunny, Chief?”

  The dog thumped his tail in reply, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted happily.

  “Clearly he was upset you returned his gift last time and thought you should have it back,” Drae joked, giving the white bundle a gentle pat.

  She sighed, settling the creature back on her lap, where it sat timidly not trying to get away. “It is far more adorable than all the carvings you’ve given me,” she said, giving him a playful jab in the ribs.

  “Hey!” Laughing deeply, he planted a kiss on her cheekbone. Giving the bunny a soft push, he said, “Go on, buddy. Off you go and stop making me look bad.”

  The bunny allowed itself to be shuffled off, scampering into the woods when he left the safety of her lap.

  Chief gave a whine as his head tilted to the side, clearly confused about why his gift was being shooed away. Moving to all fours he looked inquisitively between them and the place where the bunny had disappeared.

  “Oh, leave it alone.” She gave Chief a rough pat. Forgetting about the bunny, the dog fell to the ground, rolling over to allow her to scratch his belly. She laughed at him. “Yeah, you’re adorable too,” her past self teased. Eliscity had to agree. He was clearly still young; his paws and ears still too big for his body, which made for a cute picture.

  Another kiss was pressed to her cheekbone.

  “I guess you’re adorable too.” She turned to Drae, pressing her lips to his.

  “I don’t want to be adorable,” he muttered through the kiss.

  “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Fine.” He tangled his fingers into the ends of her long hair. “Then you get to be handsome.”

  “Oh no, then I change your adorable to pretty.”

  Drae winced. “And I match your pretty with boyish.”

  “Cute.”

  “Gentlemanly.”

  “Gentlemanly! That’s awful,” she laughed. “Can I go back to handsome?”

  “Nope,” Drae’s rough voice teased. “I quite like gentlemanly.”

  Eliscity gave him a light smack on the chest before kissing him again.

  Suddenly something brushed over her arm, then shook her shoulder lightly. Then again, harder. Her past-self, secure in Drae’s arms, appeared not to notice.

  “Angel? Oi, can you hear me?”

  Eliscity gave an inward groan at the smooth voice that whispered in her head. As her shoulder was shaken again she gave up any notion of ignoring it and allowed herself to be pulled out of her body and away from Drae.

  Opening her eyes in the library of Vance Manor, she glared at the face suspended above her.

  “You never look pleased to see me,” Jinx commented, his grin stretched wide. “I’m beginning to take it personally.”

  Mumbling something indistinguishable, she tried sitting up but found herself flat on her back as dizziness slammed into her eyes.

  “Careful,” Laleita’s voice warned. “You’ll be a bit disorientated and tired for a while.”

  “A bit,” she heard herself agree in a slur.

  “It wouldn’t have been so bad had you been left to wake organically.” The seers reprimanding tone told Eliscity she had already told Jinx this.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Jinx chirped happily.

  Laleita made an impatient noise with her tongue. “The mind’s precarious enough without causing unnecessary interruption.”

  “You two have been here for hours, it was about time for an unnecessary interruption.”

  Eliscity squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her hands over her face. As one of her palms gave a sharp tingle of pain she winced, hissing through her teeth. Remembering the cut she’d gotten from her charming wall of trees she dropped her hand to her side.

  No, that couldn’t be right, could it? That hadn’t been real.

  But before she could bring it to her face to check, Jinx intercepted, placing a kiss on her palm, directly over the sting. Then before she could tell him off for the action she yawned threefold, her eyes watering. Hoping the tired attempt of a glare was enough of a message for him, she closed her eyes.

  “She should sleep,” Laleita’s far off voice whispered and Eliscity almost giggled at the obviousness of the statement.

  She was bundled into arms she assumed weren’t Laleita’s and knew couldn’t be Drae’s. Then was fast asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Runaway Reigness

  • Acanthea •

  “Mmm, Pretty. You lookin’ to get Dusted?”

  Acanthea only momentarily gave pause to the peddler on the corner. His sunken eyes looked beaten and bruised, ringed with blue. The mark of a Dust junkie. Maybe not just Dust, given the smattering of purple scars up and down his arms and rotting mouth. It looked like the creep dabbled with Pyrem and Aconymph too.

  Dust was, by far, not the latest drug on the streets, but it was a crowd favourite. Its street name had quickly become Dust. After all, dust was everywhere and no one could be considered suspicious for wanting to do some dusting. Get Dusted.

  Acanthea, however, had always liked its full name.

  Faerie Dust.

  It made it sound less like an illegal substance and more like a magical solution. Unlike the Reigner and the people of Rylock, Acanthea liked to think of there still being some magic in the world.

  She thought the peddler was daring for trying to sell on the streets of Trelyes though, no doubt, the real reason was stupidity. She knew illegal trades were prolific below the river, in the Southern Cities. So prolific that it was impossible for the Posts to control the trades. But it happened above the river too. The only difference being, the guards in the Northern Cities always tried to make a valiant effort to control the trading. If this man was caught, he’d be hung.

  The Blood highs had appeared overnight. There had been no pause between the end of the War and their appearance. It was instantaneous. For where there were new substances, there were humans, crafting them into the next high. What did it matter if their inspiration were the creatures their brothers, daughters
or parents had died fighting? After all, wasn’t it the human way to find a silver lining amid such death, destruction and heartache? A celebration of sorts, to the end of the Bloods.

  Of course, there were still rumours of them. There always would be.

  A missing girl would always elicit talk of the Pyres. Whispers of the Feyfolk would follow stories of strange babies. Dangerous waters and eddies would be blamed on Maidens and their Kelpies.

  Over three hundred years on and the world still lived in fear. Many thought that was stupid. Acanthea thought it made sense. The Bloods were called immortal for a reason. Acanthea felt that a word like ‘immortal’ would easily go hand in hand with a word like ‘patience’.

  Then again ‘immortal’ had been a human-given word. The Bloods had not, in fact, been immortal, able to live on into eternity. But most species lifespan had been long. Some, like Wolves, had lived for centuries. It had been said Pyre’s could live for millennia – provided the blood-sucking white bats remained fed. But there had also been the mortal Bloods, Witches and Maidens, living only as long as the humans. But that hadn’t stopped the rise of the word ‘immortality’, nor the fear it had birthed.

  There was no telling how much of what people said of the War was true. There could be six or seven generations in a century and with over three centuries past since the War ceased, no one really knew what had been lost or fabricated during the generations of storytelling. The Bloods had had plenty of time to fall into the shadows of those tales.

  Acanthea suppressed a shiver at the thought of running into one of these monsters and kept walking. As much as she longed for the freedom of Dust, Acanthea was not so far gone that she believed the peddler and his dirty, greedy hands to be the safest of companions for the night. Not that she had any other choices lined up yet.

  Anyway, she thought to herself, he’d probably laced his cache with something unsavoury.