Chapter 5
Istepped out of my closet, buttoning the sleeve of my fitted dress shirt. I had not showered since Calia’s funeral. The stink of alcohol and sweat clung to my skin, but I had hardly noticed. Jasper and Rowena, however, were quick to point out the stench.
Even I could admit that spending half an hour under the scalding hot water had momentarily cleansed the past few days from my mind, allowing me to breathe for what felt like the first time.
My wardrobe was always straightforward and efficient. I did not stray from darker tones, dressing in various shades of navy or grey for variance, but I had a proclivity toward black. It was classic. Timeless.
Not to mention the fact that it hid blood marvelously.
But more than that, I was ashamed to admit I did not think myself capable of wearing anything more. Color felt personal in a way I was not comfortable with. It was expressive, allowing others to peek beneath the mask one might show the world. And I was not prepared to be scrutinized in such a way.
Calia had been like a rainbow, though—full of dazzling bright light and energy that could not be contained by a monotonous wardrobe.
I reached down to grab my towel from the floor, hesitating only when I saw a flash of pink in my peripheral view.
There, lying in the corner of my closet, was a neon pink hairband.
I picked it up, holding it tightly between my thumb and forefinger. Calia’s sweet mint scent threatened to send me to my knees. She always had these on her wrist. If not one, then there were often two or three. She had every color imaginable, often coordinating her outfits with them during our final days together.
Perhaps this was a gift—a sign of some sort that I was on the right path. Perhaps, she was still with me in whatever way one”s spirit remains with their loved ones. That thought terrified me most of all.
Slipping it on my wrist, I inhaled deeply. Fog clung to the mirror in my bathroom, but I could still make out my own unfamiliar face between the fading lines as I stood beneath. Under normal circumstances, I kept my appearance almost obsessively polished. It was a habit my father had drilled into throughout childhood.
“You cannot act the part without looking the part,” he told me one evening as he and my mother prepared to leave for a midnight gala. “Should you try, you will be ridiculed before you even begin.”
I had taken his words to heart, ensuring he would be proud of the man he had molded me into.
But now, as I stared at the gaunt face gazing back at me, I no longer recognized myself.
Deep purple hues marked the skin below my eyes. No flecks of silver light shone within my irises, swallowed wholly by the darkness creeping outward. I was haunted—the shell of a man who once had everything. I had not shaved since the morning of the party, allowing a dark scruff to shadow my jawline. My hair hung just below my eyebrows before curling slightly at the ends. I pushed it back, closing my eyes against the memory of Calia brushing her fingers through it as we lay in bed together amidst rare moments of vulnerability.
I could still see her smile, the dimple on her right side I was unsure she even knew she had. I had memorized the smattering of light brown freckles that ran along her cheeks and nose. Sometimes, they would fade away when she wore makeup or became agitated. But every morning I woke up next to her, I would roll over and count them as she slept. Now I begged for one more day to brush my thumb across her cheek.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, letting my unruly hair hang loose before grabbing my phone and wallet and striding out of my room. I could not think about the changes to my face any longer, for in each one, I saw a reminder of hers.
It was comical, really. A person would allow minor details to pass as though they did not matter. It was only when they vanished that you’d realize their importance.
I went down the hall, stopping just before Jasper’s room—I raised my fist to knock. However, it swung open before I met the wood. He stepped out, quickly closing the door behind him as he gave me a once over and smiled. “Black? Ah, are we planning to kill someone?”
I shifted on my feet. “Yes, well, you never know when the occasion might call for it. I like to be prepared. Were you able to reach your contact?”
He scratched the back of his neck, breaking eye contact. “I did.”
“And?”
“She agreed to meet with us…” he said, trailing off with a sigh.
I raised my eyebrow, knowing what was coming. “But?”
He winced. “But she can’t guarantee a meeting with the elders. And she won’t meet here. She said we’d have to go to her.”
I did not relish meeting out in the open with anyone, especially a witch I did not know. There were too many variables and too many things that could go wrong. But I wanted to feel the warmth of my mother’s blood coating my hands as I tore into her slowly, and this meeting was a risk I was willing to take—one I had to take.
“Do you trust her?” I asked, placing my hands behind my back.
He nodded once in confirmation. “I wouldn’t have reached out if I didn’t. She may not be the easiest way in, but given the situation, I believe she’ll help us.”
“Set it up for tonight,” I said. “But not on coven territory. She will need to meet us halfway on this.”
“I figured you’d say that,” he said, smiling. “So, I took the liberty of arranging the meeting on your behalf. 10:00 PM at Dymphna chapel.” When I raised my eyebrow in question, he shrugged. “Figured it was as good a place as any other. Besides, it’s the only truly neutral territory we have.”
My chest tightened as I thought back to the place where Calia and I wed. The chapel was on sacred ground, blessed by the covens to ensure the bonding ceremonies between Darrow and D’Arcy were never interrupted by the rays of the sun or the glow of the moon—the curse placed upon us centuries ago. It was built on the bones of the witches that had come before, putting the land into a stasis where the curse had no effect.
I nodded. “I suppose it is.”
“What’re you thinking? Should I enlist back up?” While the D’Arcy family had its own security, of which Jasper was in charge, he also ran a less-than-legal firm that contracted out security for clients who wished to be discreet. He had the best mercenaries money could buy at his beck and call.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I do not want to give her a bad impression. She is putting faith in us, so we should return the sentiment. Only you and I will go, but let your men know as a precaution. If we aren’t back by sundown…”
“They’ll have a team ready. Don’t worry.”
“And I want someone stationed with Rowena. We have no way of knowing what Leonora is up to. I would not put it past her to sneak in while we are out.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “I cannot risk anything happening to her.”
Jasper grimaced. “She won’t like it.”
“She can handle it until this mess is sorted out.” I ran my hand through my hair. Everything was uncertain. Was I doing the right thing by going to the covens? I couldn’t be sure. What I did know was that doing nothing was not an option. “If I know she is safe, it is one last thing I must worry about.”
He clapped my back, eyes softening as he took in my expression. “I’ll make sure she’s secure, brother. Don’t worry.”
I drew my lips back in a thin line, holding back the rising panic that plagued my mind at the thought of losing someone else I held dear. “I need some air. Find my sister and let her know what is happening.” Sweat beaded on the back of my neck as my chest tightened to the point of pain.
Loss was inevitable, a key player in life. Every day, thousands of people across Auria died from varying incidents. But I was under the belief that there was only so much devastation a person could take before they lost themselves, too.
I could count on one hand the number of people I cared about, and this feeling, this utter terror of losing one of them, was enough to drive someone mad. It lurked around every corner and clung to every spoken word, sneaking up on unsuspecting victims at their most vulnerable. Even when one knew it was there, there was no way to adequately prepare oneself for that vulnerability.
I did not wait for Jasper’s reply, quickly retreating down the hall. It was only when I caught a subtle whiff of perfume that I stopped and stared at the thick oak door in front of me. I could not be sure how long I stood there, if it was mere seconds or minutes. But knowing what lay on the other side had rooted me to the floor. It was a product of my destruction. I knew what I would find should I follow the path I had set out on, yet I could not stop myself from seeing it once more with my own eyes.
Pushing the door open, I quickly scanned the area. My heart lurched at the mess within this room I had put such care into designing. I enlisted Rowena’s help, ensuring every single item was hand-picked for Calia, so she might feel more at home here. They were trivial things. I knew they were not important when compared to everything else stacked against us, but it did not stop me from trying to give her what little comfort I could offer.
She had never known the truth. I sometimes wished I had divulged the answer to every question she asked. I knew she was curious; I could hear the questions in her mind. Even then, I held myself back because I was terrified of hurting her.
In the end, it had never mattered.
The mirror above her dresser had been thrown across the room. Shattered glass lay strewn along the floor, mingling with shards of wood and ripped bits of unworn clothing. Piece by piece, I had emptied her dresser of all its contents before shredding them in my hands. Drops of blood had stained the cloth as I tore it apart. The sounds of destruction around me only furthered my loss of control.
Rip.
Smash.
Crack.
Thud.
I had not even realized I was bleeding until I stood in the wreckage of my making, too consumed by the thundering sound of my heartbeat like a war drum in my mind.
Gone, gone, gone, gone. She was gone, and I was here, and there was nothing but silence in my mind where there had once been life. Because that is what she was. Life. Pure adrenaline coursing through my veins, giving me a reason to put one foot in front of the fucking other when I had struggled before.
The walls were scratched from the sitting area I had upended, and the pictures I had ripped from their fastenings. The cushions of Calia’s favorite chair were in tatters, pulled apart at the seams and scattered like freshly fallen snow.
It still had not been enough to satiate my need to destroy.
The crunch of debris came from under my feet as I walked over to the only untouched facet of the room. Her bed lay unmade, the sheets disheveled from the last morning we spent wrapped in each other’s arms. It was the first and last time I had tasted her blood, a feeling so euphoric that I did not know if anything would ever come close. I ran my fingers across the fabric, inhaling the soft, minty scent of her shampoo that had imprinted itself upon her pillows and brought me back to a time when I had felt joy.
That last morning, I showed her only a fraction of the darker parts of my soul—the ones that urged me to claim her as mine—my wife, my love, my light.
And claim her I did.
As my fangs had broken her supple skin, I had known my life would change forevermore. The sweet flavor of her essence on my tongue was a high unlike any other. It coursed through my body until she was all I felt, saw, smelled, and tasted. I was a man consumed, relishing the idea of her belonging to me and me to her.
And I would never be able to stop thinking of the way her tight cunt had gripped my cock from the moment I skimmed her breast.
I shifted my feet, bumping against a broken lamp on the floor. The night I had locked myself in this room, I had been blinded with anger, recklessly cursing every single person in my office that night who did nothing to save her. Now, as I walked through the destruction I had left in the wake of my rage, I felt nothing but sorrow.
It is not that I could genuinely blame anyone but myself. I had been the one keeping secrets, the one sheltering her from my storm, the one keeping parts of me hidden so she never understood the truth and severity of my love.
The worst part was I could not even remember destroying the room.
The morning after her death, Jasper had delivered a letter. In it, Castor had confirmed her death, not sparing my feelings as he did so.
Calia is gone, and her blood is on your hands. I want you to know that the only reason you still draw breath is because of the love she had for you. However, know that should I see your arrogant face again, I will not hesitate to end your life.
-C
As the paper slipped from my fingertips, my vision had bled black. All I could do was feel the destructive ache beneath my fingers as I unleashed my anger upon the room. The only thing that had been able to leash my rage was that godsdamn scent because it was the last remnant of her I had left.
One day, it would fade, and the thought alone was enough to grip my heart in a vice like grip until I thought it would burst.
I shook my head, clearing those haunting thoughts from my mind. When I could bear it no longer, I turned and walked into the hallway. The door closed softly behind me, and I let my hand linger on the wood before dropping to my side.
“I will make this right,” I whispered, taking one last look before descending the stairs.
Even if it kills me.