Chapter Twenty-Three
I would kill for a coffee.
I am not normally a big coffee drinker, but after expending so much magickal energy yesterday with Blake and a restless night of sleep, I could absolutely use the pick-me-up.
Orobas stirs and sits up. Awake and alert. Frankly, the fast transition is a little terrifying.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
He jumps a little at my voice. Then he looks around a bit before obvious relief washes over him.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine... I worried for a moment that–well, that yesterday was a dream...and that I was still being held prisoner,” he admits, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head up, inhaling deeply.
He looks much better than he did yesterday, and I know that it is not just washing and a clean set of clothes. He holds himself a bit taller, and his cheeks are fuller. Although I do not know how much of that has to do with his healing abilities and how much has to do with meeting Forsythia.
We do need to get some idea of where to head next, though, so as much as it may be uncomfortable for him, I need Orobas to give me more information about the beings he spent the last several decades with.
“Did your captors ever talk about a location?” I start off the questioning as gently as I can.
He sits up from his reclined position but does not slouch. Instead, he curls his legs under him to get comfortable. Like he understands that we will be having a longer conversation. Good. That will make this much easier if he is cooperative.
“No, I can’t remember them talking about a place, really. They mentioned a village maybe a few weeks ago but then brought in your buddy the next day. So I would assume his village was the one they referenced. Although…” He stops and seems to be gathering his thoughts.
“The one seemed to know your friend maybe a little more? He became extra irritated when they brought him in. He kept complaining about how they were supposed to get the ‘princess.’ And I guess that would be Forsythia, although I don’t have a ‘kingdom.’ Hell, I don’t even have people anymore.” I hear the sadness in his voice and understand that pain far too well.
I reach out and pat his shoulder a few times. “You are not alone now.”
He nods and continues to sift through his memories for something to help. Before he speaks again, I hear Blake and Forsythia coming back to the camp from their time at the water. I am glad they have solidified their soul-bond. Forsythia will be all the stronger for it.
“He did mention another woman once.” Orobas’s words catch my attention. “The one that seemed the most unhappy about Blake being there. Called her several not-so-polite names, if you catch my drift.” I nod in understanding, and he continues on. “I think he may have called her Delta or Delilah?”
“Delia?” Blake asks. I hadn’t heard them join us. I was too focused on my conversation.
“That might be it, actually,” Orobas says.
Blake’s face blanches, and he looks around at us in horror. “That thing used to be my Great Uncle Hudson. He hates Cordelia. He blames her for the death of his brother, my grandfather. Everyone from that generation always called her Delia.”
Blake looks like he is going to be sick, but Forsythia quickly picks up on his train of thought.
“We need to get moving quickly. Grab the pack and any weapons we have.”
We all jump into action, grabbing supplies and stuffing them into Forsythia’s pack, taking care to secure our weapons. I pass one of my blades to Blake, and he nods. Forsythia pulls out the small knife she keeps strapped to her thigh and hands it to her father.
By the time we are ready, only a handful of minutes have passed. However, that would seem to be plenty of time for my mate’s powers to begin to fester. Her eyes are glowing. Her wings and tail are present.
I look at Orobas and see the look of pure awe on his face. He glances at me and manages to voice one of the many thoughts swirling around in his mind.
“She is so much more than a half-breed.” He poses it as a statement and not a question. So I simply nod in response. He will figure it out soon enough.
Or someone will yell ‘ Noctifer Witch! ’ and sate his curiosity in a more forward manner.
Forsythia grabs mine and Blake’s hands hard. Her voice is almost lyrical. “Grab my father’s hand, and do not let go, no matter what.”
I have a bad feeling that I know what she is about to do.
After all, she has been where we are heading before. Since time is of the essence, it would make much more sense to take this course of action. It is the logical and strategic choice. But that means nothing to my stomach, which begins to squeeze tightly in anticipation.
Forsythia takes a step forward, almost as if a soap bubble extends from her, around us. Warping the scenery around us for a mere moment before popping. When it does, I feel instantly dizzy and nauseous. Orobas has dropped to his knees and is getting sick on the ground beside him.. Forsythia seems fine, and Blake is simply pinching the bridge of his nose.
She gives us a solid minute to gain our composure before she begins walking into the merfolk village. She brought us to the same location that I met her in, just a couple of days ago.
After a few paces, it becomes clear that everything here is very much not okay.
I smell smoke, and the silence is deafening. There is no wildlife in the area. I reach out through the root system of the trees and try to pick up any magickal signatures. There is one, but it is very faint.
“There is someone,” I say, pointing towards the water. “That way.”
Forsythia pulls out her blade and holds it loosely to her side. Her other hand is poised and ready to call on her magick. The rest of us follow her lead.
We take on a formation that puts Forsythia in the front, Blake at her right side, and Orobas at her left. I follow behind and keep a close eye on our backs. The defensive positioning was not intentional and, under other circumstances, would be very useful…but this place is abandoned.
Except for the faint magickal signature we are heading towards, I feel nothing in the area. Not even forest life. There is no life here. After making it to the outside of the first few houses, I notice the ashes. This town wasn’t abandoned. Its people were slaughtered. A few paces in front of me, Forsythia rushes forward.
She drops her weapon to the ground as she falls to her knees and wails.
I rush to her side and discover that she has wrapped the body of a small boy into her arms. While he is clearly a child, he is still probably closer to a teenager than a toddler by Earth realm standards. His bronze skin has a bit of a pale hue. His body is limp, and his eyes are wide and…empty.
She is sobbing and rocking the little boy whose soul passed at least several hours before our arrival. I try to scan the body, but what I can see shows no obvious injuries, and I have to assume the worst.
This was not just an attack from those beings that held Blake and Orobas captive.
The Creatori has been here.
Forsythia continues to cry and holds the boy to her chest. Rocking them both in a soothing motion. Her heart is far too large for such a small woman, and the sound of it breaking is deafening. Her agony rips me to pieces, and I find myself closing my eyes to help steady my nerves.
I know the pain she feels. I felt it when the imps destroyed my brethren.
When I open my eyes again, I see that Blake is trying to console her. I know that it is not his strong suit, but I am more grateful than ever that we share a mate. When I falter, he can be her strength. As will I be her strength when he cannot.
Forsythia’s heart-bleeding pleas break through my thoughts.
“Taryn helped me train just a few days ago. This can’t be happening, Blake. Maybe I can heal him? I have to try!”
I grasp her shoulder. Giving it a small shake and a firm squeeze until she looks up at me.
I bend down and hold her face in my hands. “Listen to me, Animus Meus . He has no injuries. That means his essence was taken. You know this. You cannot bring him back. He is not in the Ether.”
I hold her firm until I see the moment she accepts my words as truth with a tiny single nod of her head. When I release her face, she closes her watery eyes hard.
Reaching down, I gently pluck the small body from her hands, inciting another round of heavy sobs as she lets go of her hold on him. Turning her body into Blake’s arms, she buries her face in his chest and gives in to her grief.
I take the boy into the closest building and try my damndest to ignore the other bodies inside. The door has been ripped open, and the frame busted to accommodate a larger form to pass through. I lay the boy down on the floor next to a smaller child, befiore I stand slowly and take full stock of the carnage in the room.
There are 5 small bodies and one of an older woman.
The woman is the only one with signs of injury, though they are extensive. I can only pray that her passing was gentle into the Ether for her bravery as she attempted to protect the charges. Her position in the room and in front of the younglings shows she was putting her own life in the way, attempting to sacrifice herself so that they would have a chance.
Since the small bodies are so close, I fear they simply did not stand a chance against such a terrible foe.
I force myself to look at the bodies of the young ones. Needing someone to witness their brutal ending since there is a very real possibility that no one is left to mourn for them. I close my eyes against a wave of tears that threaten to spill and a wave of nausea curling in my stomach.
Stumbling quickly out of the side entrance to the building, I let myself rest a moment and lean against its side. I can no longer hold back the meager contents of my stomach, and my body retches.
When the heaving stops, I bring my arm to my mouth and use my own flesh to muffle my screams. No life should end so early. A child’s light is meant to shine in this world–in all worlds. They are the light in our darkness, and when they are taken, there is no wrath befitting a proper punishment for the responsible party.
The Gods do not take our children.
Monsters do.
Once I am able to stop the screams, I give myself a few more minutes to harness control of my breathing again. I am not a man who fears showing weakness. I know there is strength to be found in our weakest moments. But I cannot offer help to my mate if we are both suffering, and the last thing I want right now, is to bring attention to this building. She should not have to see this.
Taking a steadying breath, I push away from the building to head back out to my brother and mate. We must make this right and give the bodies a proper return to the Earth when we finish the rest of our current tasks.
When I rejoin them, Forsythia’s face is dry even though her eyes are red and swollen. The look of sorrow she had only moments ago has been replaced by disgust and determination. Without a word or a backward glance, she takes her position once again and begins to move forward. Her steps are harder on the ground, and her sorrow mixes with her rage, drifting from her in a breeze of pain.
You can almost taste it in the air.
I know that both she and Blake love this Cordelia woman dearly, so for the sake of their souls, I hope we find her well.
While the bodies left behind are a foreboding sign indeed, they are nothing compared to the wrath of those seeking vengeance in the name of love.
The destruction they would leave behind would be insurmountable.