Chapter 17 #3
The bed has the same flat pillow, dingy sheet, and scratchy blanket it did when I got here. My desk is empty except for my tablet, music player, and necklaces. Other than that I just have my flats for my uniform by my bed and the few clothes I have are hung and folded away in my wardrobe.
I shrug. “I don’t get paid all that much and most of the money goes towards food for the weekends. It’s not like I need anything anyways. I was spoiled at the brothel, but it’s not like I had anything before that.”
He finally looks at me but I turn towards my wardrobe to grab my uniform so I can get dressed. Since he’s already seen everything I pull my top off and throw it over to my bed. Out of the corner of my eye I catch him whipping his head away.
“You didn’t tell Thorne about the rest of your scars and. . . marks. Made it seem like you didn’t want anyone to see your body.”
“So?”
I can hear him shift his weight. “So, why are you so open about it now?”
He doesn’t sound anything but curious. I’m sure anyone would be, but it’s not my body I care about.
“Modesty was never a luxury I ever had,” I start.
“Modesty isn’t a luxury, it’s a – “
“Luxury,” I interrupt while almost glowering at him. “Maybe not to you because you were born with wealth, power, and privileges no one else has, but for the real world it is a luxury. And it was one I never had.”
Buttoning only one of the buttons on my shirt, I then slide off the pajama pants and slide on my skirt. I’ll put my thigh high socks on when I actually have to leave. It hasn’t gotten cold enough outside for the suffocating fabric to not make my scars ache.
“And,” I continue, pulling all my hair back and twisting it around into a low bun, “it was never about my body. Not being allowed to have modesty meant my body never mattered, I just didn’t want anyone to see my scars.
And not even because of any shame or embarrassment or anything else you’re thinking.
I could care less about them, I’ve been learning to live with them since I was five, but it’s everyone else who always makes a big deal about them.
I mean, look at how you just reacted, plus what happened when you saw the bitemark. ”
Using a wooden hair stick, I secure my hair and grab my socks before closing my wardrobe. Then I open my mini fridge and pull out a premade breakfast shake. Tossing my socks to the bed, I open the bottle and go over to pull my chair out from my desk so he can sit.
Then I climb onto my bed and sit crisscross apple sauce.
“I also can’t have people touching them, so wearing clothes that just covers them is easier.”
He’s staring at me but he’s stone still and there’s been no fluctuations in his blood flow or his heartbeat. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but at least he walks over to sit in the chair. It’s directly across from me and his eyes only leave mine for a moment to look at my legs.
“You said can’t,” he finally says. “Not that you don’t want them to, but people can’t touch them. Why? I have never felt pain like that, Mavyn.”
He relaxes into the chair as his eyes come back to meet mine.
I’ve always found it interesting how some people will look you straight in the eyes and some people won’t.
So many scientific and psychological studies.
Then you have the magical aspects, about finding your fated and souls being bound to others.
The closest a person can see another person’s soul is through their eyes.
“Did Professor Asier tell you about me coming to him a month ago? Did he say anything at all about the interaction?”
I will not tell him about my menstruating if he doesn’t already know about it, and I shouldn’t be telling him about this but. . .
He shakes his head and I release a breath I had held in for a second longer than normal. Setting my drink between my legs, I lean back and put weight on my hands behind me before look off to the side.
“Well I went to his office to ask if he knew anything about runic magic and curses. I had asked him if he knew how to break a runic curse.”
I should not be telling him this. This guy who I don’t even actually know except for what the basics are and what Jullia has told me. This guy who is so close with the celestials who have nothing more than hatred towards me.
But I want to. Because at the end of the day all anyone ever wants is to be seen. To be known. Acknowledgement is a necessity people forget about. To be forgotten is a fate worse than death, so of course everyone wants to be remembered.
“I lied to Professor Asier and D’etre. I said I was cursed because I had been turned into a vampire, but the truth is that the devil had placed an actual runic curse on me a long time ago.
A type of curse where it feels like I’m burning whenever there’s skin on skin contact with my scars.
Which,” I look down at my legs, “is everywhere except my feet, hands, and neck.”
I was always surprised when the devil never bit my neck. And either Callahan has learned, or it still hasn’t fully processed with him because he still doesn’t move.
“Feet, hands, and neck,” he repeats slowly. “But what about your face?”
Tension thrums through the room with an electricity to it that sparks like tender touches.
He must be paying better attention to my words then.
Understanding that like some of the fae, I speak certain words or leave out select information.
As much as possible, I try to not – technically – lie.
What people assume or gather or infer is their fault.
Instead of paying attention to my words they try to read between the lines to what I’m trying to mean.
I shrug a shoulder and glance away as I try to remember that night. It’s been a long time and so much has happened since then. Bits and pieces and sometimes I don’t even think it’s real.
“The devil placed the rune on my face when he cursed me.” At least one of the runes. The most important one that cemented the curse.
Callahan’s voice is just as calm as it has been. He’s either in complete control right now, or he doesn’t care.
“What about the skin between your scars? Have you ever tried finding a spell or enchantment to make it so no one does touch your scars? If it was possible to place small, individual barriers just over them, that way someone could touch you without touching your scars?”
Keeping my body relaxed and my tone neutral, I answer, “I’ve never tried it. There was never a reason I needed to before.”
That tension thickens in the room and I have to actually try to keep my heart steady and my blood flow even. Yet his stays the same as before. A constant, solid beat from his heart.
Leaning in, he rests his forearms on his knees as his eyes glance down at my legs again. The white scars and bite marks looking exceptionally stark right now.
“Would you want to?” he asks, quieter than he’s spoken before. It makes me shiver and I dig my fingertips into the bed to try and keep myself grounded. It doesn’t do much.
Why?” I whisper.
And when he looks back up at me the full force of his aura hits me.
Like there was a shield over it containing what it was.
So clear that I can see it perfectly just as much as I can now feel it.
Ribbons of transparent black with threads of white and gold lit through them.
Wisping threads of stark black flutter around him too, but they’re as thin as actual thread.
So much contradiction, yet so much beauty. And there’s no war with it. The darkness is not trying to devour the light, just as the light isn’t trying to dimmish the dark. They balance each other perfectly, an equal of harmony.
“Because I want to touch you without harming you.”
My mind empties out. For a moment everything is silent.
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like I should have already known that. Like. . .
I’m saved from responding because the sound of footsteps echo right outside the door before there’s a click and the door opens.
Jullia and Asher come in, both of them with worried and conflicted expressions but Jullia smiles at me.
That is, of course, before she realizes Callahan is sitting before me.
Both of them freeze as they stare at us. Jullia’s eyes zipping from my face, to Callahan, to my legs. Legs which are covered in scars and bitemarks and all visible for everyone to see. Panic replaces all other emotions but I wave her off.
“It’s alright, we’re fine,” I say. Pushing away all the tension and his words and that still electric zipping feeling.
Asher wraps his hands around Jullia’s waist as he keeps his eyes locked on the devil.
I’m sure he can feel Callahan’s aura still filling every corner of this room.
Not that Callahan spares them a single glance, his eyes are locked on me.
Pulling her flush to his chest, Asher’s earthy scent begins to trickle stronger into the room.
Jullia puts on a smile as she shrugs to try and play it off. Leaving Asher’s arms to head towards her wardrobe. “As long as everything is okay. . . “
“Yup,” I respond, popping my lips to accentuate the P sound. “And actually, Callahan was just leaving.”
I turn a pointed look at Callahan. I’m sure he won’t want to, but he’ll have to leave anyway because Jullia will be needing to get dressed and ready, and no way will Asher allow another man to stay in the room with her.
He would go up against a devil – and with emotion backing up his magic he’d probably win.
“And if any word gets out about what you’ve seen and now know,” I start, darkening my voice like I have before. Like when I had threatened the other celestials. “I will report you to the Mage Board.”
His eyes narrow a bit at that, but otherwise he doesn’t do anything.
I bet he didn’t know I knew that. It’s not something widely known as is because not everyone really knows about true forms unless you’re a devil or an angel, but if a devil or angel releases their true inner self in any way they’re immediately sentenced to death.
True forms are. . . they can surpass gods.
With that threat, I sit up and slide off the bed to stand.
I set my drink on my desk to finish later.
Rolling my neck out, I clasp my hands behind me and arch my back to stretch it out.
Callahan still doesn’t move even as Asher’s aura continues to slowly fill the room.
More threatening now with a demanding energy. Callahan needs to leave now.
A protective instinct to keep Jullia safe from Callahan who is the largest predator in the room at the moment. The same instinct he had when he first met me and demanded I make a blood oath with him. A type of promise that bounds even celestials.
So very curious about a mage and a vampyr. I wonder when they’ll fully realize what they are to each other.
In every lifetime.
You are mine in every lifetime.
You. Are. Mine.
Every. Lifetime.
The next beat of my heart thumps in my mind. I squeeze my eyes against it for a moment and when I open them I’m no longer in the presence of contradicting aura that balances itself. Instead the world is tinted in cool tones. Some sort of flake is hovering throughout the air. Snow or. . . ash.
I’m surrounded by a forest. Trunks bleeding black blood with darkness covering their branches instead of leaves or flowers or fruits.
There are whispers behind me. I should turn around to see what it is. Only I already know what I’ll find.
A puff of air clouds before my mouth as I exhale. You would think the temperature would be freezing because of that. I know better. I know that freezing is the exact opposite of how the temperature is.
It has been a very long time since I’ve been here. Since my mind has locked me in the past and afterlife. Since I’ve been trapped in a nightmare while awake.
I know this only ends one way. I’ve tried before to not turn around. Spent weeks as my body screamed at me to move even an inch somehow. But the only way I can move is by turning. There is no forward, no back, no escape. There is only turning and facing it.
Fluttering my eyes closed for a moment, the first thing I see within is gold. Light and dark balancing with an aura so powerful it rivals that sun devils. It rivals the bone witch I call Nana.
It rivals the Forgotten God of Blood Moon’s.
When I open my eyes a color that is not cool toned wraps around the tree before me. Black blood still dripping from its bark and at its base is a single blue belladon. But despite the black blood, despite the aura that fills this nightmare cage, a color I’ve never seen here blooms.
Red spider lily looking flowers are attached to a reddish-black vine covering the tree.
They say that blue belladon is the one thing that can kill all – no matter the creature. However, it is also said that the gods cannot be killed. They are the one thing blue belladon cannot kill. If only history was written correctly.
Roi sanguin’divin is the full name. Roi sanivin for short, and it is known as the godskiller. A true thing that can kill all – including the gods.
It is the symbol of the Forgotten God of Blood Moon’s. A way to make him remembered. . . and a way to ensure his downfall stays that way.
I finally turn to face my nightmare. Black ribbons with light threaded through and gold accompany me with solace. I will not die here.
I will not die here.
I will not die here.
. . .
Pain.