Chapter 8
Julie
Methods of Madness
Secession Studios, Greg Dombrowski
“Don’t be a disappointment, not again!”
Her words kept bouncing into me, stinging me with their vehemence. Sharp and unpredictable.
“I’ll keep an eye on you and see how well I’ve trained you.”
It was just one sentence and yet it weighed on me with full force.
Stop shaking, come on... There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing , I told myself, but it didn’t help.
“Are you okay?”
I glanced up at Bayla, who had stepped closer without me noticing and put her warm hand on my trembling hands, but I snatched them away from her, startled, and looked at her apologetically.
She gave me an indistinct look, but I couldn’t analyze it.
Fear ate its way through my body.
“Why are you so cold again? Is everything all right?”
I nodded quickly and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
“Damn, you’re all so nervous. I don’t think I can go down there again. Nothing against Grace, really. I just felt so shitty after the last time.”
Bayla looked abnormally nervous. And suddenly, I hoped it wouldn’t work, that she was human or that her gifts were too weak. Her mother was an Air Quatura, which would automatically make Bayla one, too, if there had been no other elements in her family line. And I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.
Until I found out that she had survived the Ruisangor bite, I had assumed that she had no gift, and that there had simply been an error. Sometimes female Quatura were too weak to develop an element, but I only knew of two cases in Blairville.
“What more do I have to do to prove I’m not one of you?”
I honestly didn’t know.
Bayla, who had been playing with the fabric of the white robe the whole time, suddenly stopped and looked at me as if something had occurred to her.
“You’ve met with him.”
My heart began to drum.
With shaky hands, I avoided Bayla’s gaze.
“And you didn’t text anything in the group chat.”
She smirked.
I felt stupid for assuming she wouldn’t ask me about it, it’s just that I hadn’t expected us to even see each other again.
“I, I...”
My stammering betrayed me.
“Don’t even think about lying now.”
She had caught me, and I was at her mercy again. What was I supposed to say? That I’d slept with him? That I had almost iced his car? That I had ended the friendship?
“What’s he like?”
“Nice... warm and accommodating.” I began to play restlessly with my hands. “Just like I imagined him.”
The truth was, he was better than anything I’d ever been able to imagine. His body had been a warm pulsing place of calm for mine to nestle into, his heartbeat so human, his personality so... real.
Bayla pulled the chair diagonally opposite me to one side and sat down. “That already sounds good. What did he look like?”
“Attractive, but I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? What did he look like? Do you know him? Maybe we’ve seen him on campus before.”
Her questions overwhelmed me, so I answered with the first word I could think of. “Mask.”
She gave me an irritated look. “Mask?”
“He was wearing a mask, just like me.”
“No way...”
“Yes...”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what he looks like?”
I shook my head in shame. But as long as he didn’t know about me, it was fine with me.
“If Larissa knew, you’d be a head shorter by now.”
“I know,” I replied, and we both had to grin before the increasing seriousness returned.
“But if it went well, you’ll meet up again, won’t you?”
I bit the tip of my tongue.
I had dreamed of him, of his body and how he had lain next to me, in my bed, his hands cupping my breasts, how he had lifted my legs and kissed me before he had slid into me agonizingly slowly without breaking eye contact.
How could I ever forget that? How could I ever forget him? It was as if a part of his soul had woven itself into mine forever.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I said with honesty, taking a shaky breath. “He’s... maybe not my type,” I lied because if there was one thing he was, it was exactly that. I longed for him, for his personality, his body.
And yet it wasn’t meant to be. We led way too different lives. I would never be able to have a partner without hurting him, whether it was because of Quatura tradition, because of my personality, or because of who I truly was, of what rested there inside me. Icy and dangerous.
“Here we go.”
We looked at Margot, who was standing in the doorway, giving Bayla an encouraging, if modest, smile and then scrutinizing me. Hopefully, she hadn’t heard anything, otherwise I’d be finished. Not because Margot cared, I doubted that, but because she would tell everyone in the house.
I stood up and Bayla did the same. She looked tense. I would have loved to ease her tension, but I hadn’t even succeeded with Grace, my own cousin.
The King of Dreams
Secession Studios
The walk downstairs seemed like half an eternity. Enough time for my body to get back up to full speed. My breathing, pure chaos, far too fast, just like my heartbeat. My chest seemed to tremble, tearing apart from the inside. At the same time, I noticed that my hands were turning blue.
It was only just before the entrance doors to the temple hall that I realized I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms. I had become addicted to the stuff Gloria regularly gave me, and I knew that two days without Salma was enough to drive my body crazy.
How had Gloria forgotten to give it to me?
Margot opened the double doors, and we entered the huge temple hall; its dark glow illuminated by candles and glowing elemental wall runes.
The angular runes in the gray stone wall were made of a rare mineral filled with storage magic. The last Fire Quatura of Blairville, whose name no one ever spoke, had filled them with her magic.
But it wasn’t the festive lighting that captivated me this time, it was something else. The temple was full. The entire Circle, a good seventy people stood with their black robes in a circle around the altar, greenish and bluish, but also gray-white glowing eyes.
What was rare was the presence of the Councils. People in light gray robes with glowing gray-white eyes stood offset behind the members of the circle. An image that was graceful, powerful, and at the same time frightening. Their presence should be an honor. They rarely attended a rite of passage as a unit, in fact never...
Although I was not a member of the Councils, I was wearing their color today, because Gloria had demanded it.
Bayla’s nervousness seemed to rise, but mine did too when I spotted my mentor among all the hooded figures.
Gloria was wearing a white robe, decorated with striking silver square patterns that marked her as the head of the Councils.
I knew her eyes were on me before she, like everyone else in the temple, looked at Bayla as if she were an attraction at the circus.
Margot and I took our places and confusion overcame me as the only empty space for me was right next to Grace, diagonally behind her... Gloria Westcode.
I took a deep breath and walked around the other members to avoid destroying the prepared ritual circle, through which only Bayla herself and the Quatura leading the ritual were allowed to pass.
With every step I took closer, my fear grew, as did the desire to turn around and leave. I was not feeling ready, no, absolutely not.
I stepped past Gloria, even though I was just about to break under her presence. It was as if I was dying inside while suffering withdrawal symptoms. Not a good condition to be Grace’s assistant. Today, I had to pull myself together. My body had to stay under control because many eyes were on Grace and therefore close to me. There had to be a lot of pressure on her to take on this ceremony, especially now that the Councils were present. I trembled inside. If I were her, I wouldn’t have even shown up.
I looked up, where huge silver metal rings with elemental runes hung horizontally from the seemingly endless ceiling. A ceremonial tradition when the Councils attended. Pompous, real and yet somehow strange, just as this place had always been for me. A place where I had experienced too much.
All the memories came flooding back to me, shattering my concentration on the present. My hands began to tremble.
No, please not now.
I immediately felt a hand on my right forearm, warm and reassuring. I looked to the side and spotted Margot, but I couldn’t look at her for long. That would have been noticeable. So, I slid a little closer to Grace, away from Margot. Her touch had confused me so much that although my hand trembled less, everything inside me began to move. My head was in chaos.
What had just happened? Had she touched me on purpose? How had she noticed? Had someone else perhaps seen something? I looked up again, as I should. Had Gloria noticed? I couldn’t turn around to face this woman now.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
I wanted to die.
“Don’t be a disappointment, not again!”
Her words flashed through my head. The effect was the same as upstairs in the salon.
I noticed Grace’s gaze on me, looked to her and wished her the best with my expression. She looked straight ahead again and broke away from the circle to step into the center.
“Step forward,” she ordered loud and clear, without letting her nervousness show.
Bayla obeyed and walked through the circle to the altar in her simple white transitional robe.
Grace then removed her hood and hung a necklace with a clear crystal around Bayla’s free neck. The ritual then continued, with Bayla lying down on the altar, Grace smearing the clay on her forehead, and finally taking the dagger with the four elemental runes into her hand.
“ Nos sorores coniunge ,” Grace said, and the runes in the dagger lit up. She brought it to her palm, slit her skin and came over. But instead of giving the dagger to Amara, she handed it to me.
I looked at her in confusion for a moment, but did as I was told.
“ Nos sorores coniunge ,” I repeated shakily and raised my hand. The attention on me was too enormous for me to bear it at all.
Royalty
Egzod, Maestro Chives, Neoni
I tried to bring the dagger to my hand, but my trembling was too intense. And then something happened that triggered pure panic inside me. The temperature in the hall dropped noticeably. I gripped the dagger tighter and tighter as it seemed to slip out of my hand.
“Julie... the dagger...” Grace whispered. Her eyes glowed greenish, but her unsettled look penetrated through the glow.
The temperature seemed to drop further, which others now seemed to notice too, as a murmur went through the crowd. Their breath rose visibly.
When I looked at the dagger, I knew why. The entire tip was frozen... still freezing. I was holding a shimmering reddish ice stick in my hand.
At that moment, panic exploded inside me. I dropped the stick and a loud clatter sounded as the ice that had collected shattered. The Circle members in my immediate vicinity jumped to the side, and the murmuring turned into a terrified uproar.
I could only feel the chaos inside me gradually beginning to take control of my body, flowing through my veins until it filled every pore of my body.
I looked at my hands, which were no longer blue. Instead, you could see my veins... glowing. They were an icy shade of blue, almost whitish, and made my already pale skin glow.
My heart was racing.
I looked at Grace, who was staring at me in horror, even more horrified when I took off my hood.
“I’m sorry...” I whispered, overwhelmed.
She only stared at me in more horror. And all I could see in my cousin’s eyes was... fear.
Then everything happened very quickly. Grace was pulled away from Amara, in the background I saw someone pulling Bayla off the altar, probably her mother.
I noticed hands touching me left and right with firm grips, determined to keep hold of me. A mistake.
My panic ate away the last of my control. Like a trapped animal, I broke free and turned toward the council members, who of course rushed toward me again, but I wouldn’t let them. I made a quick motion with my hand and sharp shards of ice grew out of the ground, denying them access to me.
With glazed eyes, I looked at my hands, then back at the dangerously shiny ice on the ground in front of me.
When I looked up, I saw the horror in all their glowing eyes, but there was one pair of eyes that stuck with me. I would never forget that look from Gloria, never. She looked at me as if she had just seen a ghost. Her pale face lost all expression as she stared at me like I was her biggest nightmare come true.
I stepped backward, further and further, faster and faster. And finally, I stumbled around and stormed out of the temple. Behind me, pandemonium broke out.
The Legend of Walter Robinson
(He Got What He Deserved)
Secession Studios, Greg Dombrowski
My body had calmed down again after the first outburst in public.
I should have expected something like this to happen sooner or later. I had never been able to control all this power inside me. This destructive magic within me was stronger than me, almost like a monster that took what it wanted and retreated until it got hungry again. I was at the mercy of this power. Defenseless. A victim of myself.
I hadn’t gotten very far. Only as far as the lowest corridors of the underground system of Moenia before I was thrown through the air and violently pushed to the ground by extremely aggressive Council members. They had barely given me a chance to breathe. Then they had brought me here, thrown me into the drawing room on the first floor of the villa as if I were a prisoner, and positioned themselves in front of the doors and windows.
What did they think? That I would run away? To where? I was trapped here. Except that from today, it would also become a physical state. Besides, I hadn’t been able to make any further use of this magic. I probably needed a control stone, but I would never find one for these strange powers.
My heart was still beating wildly against my chest. Everything inside me told me that I was about to face the worst torture of my entire existence. I had indirectly attacked Council members, actively fought back against them, and I had ruined Grace’s first ceremony. A politically important ceremony for Amara. And Bayla... There was no one I hadn’t disappointed, angered or frightened.
The door flew open and I jumped up.
Six Quatura entered the room.
Bayla and her mother, who looked very confused, an Amara who seemed to be discussing something, her expression full of despair, Grace who just stared at me, as did Amanda, Gloria’s daughter, and at the front Gloria herself, as if she were something special.
She looked annoyed, angry, but most of all, as always, menacing, especially in her white billowing robe. And if you knew anything, it was that the angry and menacing Gloria was something no one wanted to be confronted with.
“Bring her to me!” she shouted angrily, and the Council members disappeared. Only one stayed behind and closed the doors.
Gloria stepped toward me, her gaze full of emotion, clearly anger among it.
“How could you keep something like this from us all this time?” she shouted angrily, making me tremble inside. I couldn’t get a word out and looked down, but she took my chin in her bony fingers.
My body wanted to tremble, but instead, it froze.
“I expect an answer!” Her irises lit up grayish.
“Gloria!” Amara pushed between us, shoving me further back. “She’s scared and in shock, just like the rest of us!”
I had never seen her get so loud toward Gloria.
“The highest law of the Circle is obedience and loyalty to the Councils!”
“As well as the unity of all Circle members in crisis situations,” Amara added resolutely, and I wondered again about her rebellion against Gloria, which immediately subsided when the door burst open once more and Margot was pushed roughly inside.
The Council members to her right and left bowed slightly to us, or rather to Gloria, and left again. Gloria immediately stepped away from me and Amara and walked toward Margot.
“How on earth is that possible?” she exclaimed and pointed at me, causing everyone to look at me again, but then at Margot.
I stared at the woman they called my mother, trying to pierce her with my gaze, which took all my strength. Margot stared back at me. Tears shone in her eyes.
“Who is the girl’s father?”
An awkward silence fell over the salon. I didn’t know much about him and would have liked to leave it at that, but something told me that Gloria knew something I didn’t. Memories of something very unpleasant crept out of my subconscious. Gloria knew him. She had given him the money back then…
The memories hurt, tore me apart, and began to bubble up inside me again. But I suppressed them with all my strength. This time, successfully.
“Tell me!”
Not even her own sister intervened. Amara looked at Margot as if she was... disappointed? Hurt? But why?
“Didn’t that question answer itself?” Margot sighed, strangely self-assured, and avoided my gaze. “It’s a wonder it took you so long to find out that Alaister has a child.”
“Don’t put his name in your filthy mouth!”
“Gloria! Calm down!” Amara ordered, pulling on her shoulder, but Gloria shook her off.
“You tell me to calm down?! I can’t believe it!”
And I no longer understood what was going on. Too many things at once, too little time to process it all.
“She even looks like him.” Margot laughed, which made Gloria turn to me in a rage.
Her gaze was full of lashing emotions that completely overwhelmed me. Whatever she saw in me, she seemed to hate it.
Amara was walking in circles, clutching her head, and I noticed in the corner of my eye Bayla’s mother running her hands over her arms. Diana looked tense, but not like my aunt, who was now also talking to Margot as if all her questions were about to burst out of her.
“I thought this Jonathon was her biological father and not...” She touched her head. “Oh God, how could I have been so blind back then. So blind to so many things…”
Diana and Amanda looked abruptly at Amara, but she didn’t even notice.
I wondered what exactly she was implying. That Jonathon hadn’t been my father? But that made no sense. I remembered him clearly. Far too clearly…
My hands started shaking again.
“Did you know anything about this?” Gloria now asked her daughter, Amanda, which surprised me the most. And at that moment, I noticed her watching me.
Amanda quickly looked away again, this time at Margot, and her face was expressionless, as if she was reminiscing.
“You will bitterly regret keeping my own granddaughter from me!”
Gloria’s words burned so deeply into my head that I staggered back and bumped into a glass vase, which immediately slipped off the dresser and shattered on the wooden floor.
Everyone looked at me. But I could only look at Gloria. Gloria Westcode...
“You would have taken her away from me,” Margot was now blurting out, and I wondered if she actually cared. I would never believe her.
“She would have gotten a better training! Right from the start!” Gloria argued angrily, as if it were a matter of life and death. And I was right in the middle of it, the victim of her power, a projection screen for her anger.
Her... granddaughter.
A chill went down my spine.
“No... Amanda, tell them that Alaister couldn’t control his powers any better.”
But Amanda just stared at Margot, earning a death glare from Gloria.
“You all...” Margot now looked at the older Circle members. “You were all there when he destroyed everything!”
I looked at each of them, noticing Bayla’s confused look. I was sure she was wondering what she was doing here... just like me.
To learn that my own mother had lied for years about my father, who was now supposed to be Gloria’s unknown son? Confusion and anger flooded through me. Why had I never known about a son? A male Quatura. Male… Probably with the same powers as me. Someone I had never met.
Inevitably, images popped back into my head. Images of the man who had slept with my mother and who...
“He was a goddamn child, just like you were a stupid girl who seduced my son! If I had known... That could have changed so much!” Gloria looked at me again, as if she was thinking about something that pained her.
The door burst open again and a pretty, stern-looking red-haired woman in a light gray robe entered.
“The Councils expect a statement,” she said harshly, before looking to Bayla and her mother. “And you two will be escorted home.”
Gloria turned and eyed Bayla, who looked unsettled and rose when her mother did.
“Diana, we’ll be in touch as soon as the ceremony can be made up,” Gloria growled, unimpressed, and then turned to the red-haired woman. “Rebecca, inform the members that a statement will be made at midnight. From me personally!”
The woman nodded and then disappeared with the Adams.
The two most influential Quatura families of Blairville were left behind, divided and yet somehow united... by me. And suddenly I was the center of attention. A place where I was at Gloria’s mercy. I knew this was going to be a long evening. And I didn’t know if I would get through it without breaking down inside.