Thirty-One
Callum
Confused and curious, I stay high above in the sky, tracking the Demicrogen through the brush, not knowing where the beast is headed. Nose low to the ground, I hear the intake of breath before its head whips to the side, and it takes off at lightning speed, on all fours, barreling over sticks and rocks, nearly hitting every tree it passes.
It shouldn’t be here. It should be roaming the dark, fiery, barren lands of Mortis Regnum. Not here. Never here. Are there more? When there’s one, there are many. That’s what my mother always told me. After killing one, there’s always another behind you, ready to take you out with one bite. That’s what I’ve been trying to teach Kallie, and that’s what I have to be prepared for.
They’re ruthless, foul creatures, preying on the flesh of the ones too naive to know better. Ravenous enough, they’ll make your time short and almost painless, your only prayer to be sent that your body will pass out from the shock of it all. However, well fed, and they will drag you inch by agonizing inch back to their cave, slowly bleed you out, rip chunk after chunk out of you, bit by bit, until all that’s left are the bones of what you once were. They were finally captured, sent to Mortis Regnum by order of the king of Nefarium, Marcel.
The creature takes a sharp right, and I bank hard, missing the tree branch that threatened to take up residence in my ribs. What is it looking for? Then it hits me, the realization coming into fruition. It’s not looking for anything. It’s hunting. And it’s heading straight for my house.
Racing through the treetops, my wings beat fast and hard until I’m flying right above it. A stream of shadows stretches in front of me, and I wield them around its neck like a collar, pulling it taut like a leash. Flinging it backward, it hits a tree trunk with a thud, and I stealthily land.
Its tongue lashes out, teeth snapping, trying to latch onto the ring around its neck. Claws the size of talons protrude out of the elongated finger-like limbs. They slash through my shadows like fucking paper, severing the hold I had.
Calling to the darkness, the power rooted deep inside me, I form a sword. Gripping the hilt, we stalk each other, doing a song and dance that I’ve missed. A wicked smile pulls at my lips right before it launches. Ducking left, I swing the sword around, slashing it across its shoulder. Wails of pain shake the leaves, dark-blue blood leaking from the wound.
I’m not fast enough when it retaliates, slashing a claw down the front of my chest. It fucking burns, like my flesh is being rained down on by thousands of burning embers. Dots spring in my vision as my body fights to stay upright. I let out deep, heavy breaths through my nose, clenching my jaw so tight I think I might break a tooth. Harrowing pain licks across my sternum, and hot liquid begins to travel down toward my navel.
Eyes trained on it, I wait until it comes straight for me, aiming for my throat as I shove my blade completely through its chest. A claw scrapes down the side of my face while its cries get louder. With a twist, I push it even deeper until I feel cold liquid surrounding my fist, its heart beating rapidly against me. I feel the life start to drain out of it as the beating begins to slow.
I fall to my knees, holding the beast up on the blade, waiting for it to finally meet its end. A tinge of white shines at the bottom of the hilt, slowly spreading through the sword, growing brighter until it reaches the tip. It completely dies out before bursting in every direction. Sending light beams up through the sword and out the creature in front of me. In a flash, I watch it disintegrate before my eyes, nothing but a puff of smoke left in its wake, taking the light with it.
The sword dissolves in an instant. The burning sensation spreads through my chest like a wildfire, searing its poison through every nerve ending, webbing across my chest like vines sprouting on a newly found landscape.
I wait, listening for the rustle of leaves, a snap of a branch to come, something to indicate I’m not alone, but only the faint whistle of the wind enters my ears.
Rising from the ground, I wince with every movement, the venom spreading within me with every beat of my heart, introducing itself into my bloodstream, waiting to take over what little is left of me until I’m foaming at the mouth and withering on the ground, finally seeing what comes after death.
My wings stir behind me, slowly going up and down before my feet slightly lift off the forest floor. Begrudgingly, I fly home, keeping pressure on the open wound. It isn’t until a sharp gust of wind hits me that I’m reminded of the scratch taking residence on my face, and I beat my wings a little faster with the fear I won’t make it back at all.
My home comes into view, but my wings do not falter. I won’t feel relief until the antidote is in effect, because even now, I feel the heat creeping up my neck, the venom wanting to suffocate me.
I barrel down the door, not caring about the splintered wood or how loudly it rattles against the wall. Stumbling my way through the living room and into the kitchen, I make it to the first door in the hallway. Reaching for the doorknob, I’m stopped short, my hand gripping over my heart as a stuttered ripple pangs through it. It passes, but I find the door locked.
Of course it’s fucking locked. You wanted to keep her out, and now you’re going to die because you let that soul-sucking, green-eyed, annoying, invasive brat into your home.
Shadows burst from me, obliterating the door. Racing down the steps, I beeline for the cabinet in the far back corner, bypassing all the other secrets I keep firmly locked away down here. Yanking the cabinet open, my hand snakes inside, fumbling around bottles and jars until my nearly numb fingers wrap around the one I’m searching for.
Opening the cap, the rancid smell of whatever herbs were used to make this penetrates the air. My nose scrunches, eyes water, and with one final exhale, I dump the contents down my throat.
Instantly, I begin to gag, placing my hand over my mouth to keep all of it inside. Fuck, that tastes awful.
Once I’m sure the elixir will stay right where it needs to be, I reach back into the cupboard and grab the ointment that goes with it. I rub a generous amount on the wound that runs six inches down my sternum, recoiling at the pain when I make contact. The one along my cheek isn’t nearly as bad, but you can never be too careful. I place some on there as well, the cooling effect allowing me to take in a few blissful breaths.
That was close. Far too close. It shouldn’t be here. They don’t wander around realms like freelancing creatures. Someone had to have placed it here—and where there’s one, there are many. Could there be more? More waiting to be released into the wild.
It was searching, hunting for something. Not something, someone. Kallie. That’s the only thing that makes sense. But the question is who? Who would go through the trouble of obtaining such a vile beast? How would they guarantee it wouldn’t kill her as soon as it sunk its venomous claws in her beautiful olive flesh?
Maybe that was the goal all along.
Unanswered questions run ragged through my mind as I make my way back toward the stairs. Shards of wood litter the steps, and with a snap of my fingers, it begins rebuilding as I step through the threshold, closing off the entrance again and leaving the sound of a rattling cage behind it.
Leisurely walking to the kitchen, I grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it up with water before downing the whole thing. Then another.
Screams bellow from down the hall. I instantly drop the cup, the shattering of the glass not registering as I rush toward the bedroom. The sword I used earlier reappears in my grip just before I fling open the door, prepared to take out whatever awaits me on the other side. But what I see stops me in my tracks, fear encompassing me.
Kallie thrashes on the bed, the veins in her neck bulging out with her next guttural cry. Her breathing stops altogether, and she lies completely still. What the fuck is happening? Another blood-curdling scream erupts out of her as thick rivers of blood pour out of gashes being made on her shins, soaking the entirety of the bed in crimson.
I’m stunned, paralyzed in place by the sight before me. What the fuck is going on? I rush over to her, leaving the sword I held to vanish into the shadows. Gripping her by the shoulders, her hands strike out, batting against my hold.
“Kallie! Wake up!” I scream, panic laced in my tone. I shake and shake her to no avail.
She screams again, blood vessels pop throughout her face, and her fists ball as she relentlessly pounds against my fresh wound. But it doesn’t fully register, like a bee sting, a single second of pain before it becomes void again.
Then we’re blanketed in complete darkness, and shadows fill every corner of the room, not even the moonlight breaking through. I think it’s me, and I try to rein it in. Only, it’s not. It’s her. Tentacles of dark like ink spew out of her, and then they quickly recede back, like they were never there. I don’t have time to think about what I just saw, or what I think I saw, before she starts to glow, the orange hue of her power starting to illuminate the room.
Kallie, I know you’re in there. You need to wake up, Princess. I shoot the message down our bond, hoping somewhere in there she hears my plea. Liquid begins to leak from her nose and ears, like a fountain of scarlett.
Anguish takes over her features, with a final scream that springs her upright. The glass panes surrounding us shatter into microscopic pieces, covering every surface. I wrap my arms around her, shielding her from the sharp rainfall as it comes down on us. I feel the shards taking purchase in my back, my arms, legs, like tiny pinpricks. Fire spews out of her hands where they grip the sheets, burning holes into the bed, probably through the floor.
Her body goes limp, my arms the only thing keeping her from falling back down onto the mattress. My breathing is rushed, coming out in fast pants as I wait to see if that was the end of it.
Gently laying her back down, I brush her raven strands out of her face, watching her features relax into a somber expression. If it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of her chest, I would have thought she was dead.
Blood. So much blood, drying along the lines that run from her nose and ears. The blood that was gushing from her leg wounds is crusted over, painting her legs in a deep mahogany.
I stand at the side of her bed, afraid the second I take my eyes off her, she’ll be gone the next. I don’t know what’s going on, but I intend to find out. Hesitantly, I go to the bathroom, stealing glances every few steps to ensure her safety. Grabbing a few hand towels and a bowl out of the linen closet, I fill it up with hot water before returning to her bedside.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I dip the towel into the water and carefully wipe away the evidence of her nightmare. The once clear water is now tainted, filled with the memories that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Finishing up her face, I turn to begin cleaning up her shins, the horror of what happened in that pretty head of hers staring back at me. She needs a healer, someone to mend the severed tendons and ligaments.
I feel her stir behind me, and I turn my head slightly, peering at her over my shoulder. Her hand glides over the soaked blanket, and she instantly wakes with a hiss, pulling her hand to her chest.
“Shit,” she mumbles, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her eyes slowly open, like it’s taking all her power to muster enough energy to pry them open. A piece of glass is lodged in her palm, getting under her skin like she’s managed to worm underneath mine.
“What the hell?” Stammering, she looks side to side, and when her eyes land on me, they bulge open wide. “Wha— What are you doing?” she stammers, confused and shocked.
“You had a nightmare,” I reply with a sigh.
All the color leaches from her face, the unmistakable look of fear spreading throughout. She takes her time looking at the carnage around us. The scarlet-soaked bedsheets cause a strangled gasp to escape her, the uninjured hand flying over her mouth to extinguish the sound.
When she finally looks at me again, tears are welled up in her eyes before leaving trails cascading down her cheeks.
“I did this.” It isn’t a question. It is a statement filled with every bit of regret and shame that’s written on her face. “Goddess, did I do that to you?” she asks, her gaze bouncing between my chest and cheek.
“No,” I answer with the shake of my head. Everything inside of me screams to console her, but I can’t make myself move. This was never part of the plan, but somewhere deep inside of me, I knew this was inevitable. And who am I kidding? The whole plan was sent falling into the abyss the second I stepped foot into the fighting ring. I just didn’t know it then. She was like a Venus flytrap, luring me in with her beauty and naivety, and when I was close enough, she swallowed me whole, keeping me locked in her orbit forever.
“I’m sorry. I— I don’t know what happened. I haven’t had any nightmares since I’ve been here.” I know, because I’ve shielded you from the demons that plague your mind. And I left you to fight them alone. I left you vulnerable, and I will never forgive myself.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I say, “Don’t you ever apologize for something out of your control.” My tone is stern, more so than I intended it to be. “Something happened in… there. ” I stand up slowly, prolonging the inevitable catastrophe that is going to be unleashed the second she sees what lies on the other side of me.
I don’t look at her legs, only at her, watching for her reaction, waiting for the anguish that’s to come. But it never does. She looks at me earnestly, waiting for me to explain, as if it’s not obvious.
Confused, I look down, only to see two scars mirroring each other on each leg. They are faintly pink, like the skin has stitched itself back together, working to hide the evidence. The blood that was once there only stains the outer parts of the scar, nearly invisible.
“That happens.” She says it like she has accepted her fate, like this is completely normal for her. Maybe that’s my fault. The scars and burns scattered over her body were a tool, a teaching lesson to help her understand, to try to put the pieces together that this is all real. What happened tonight wasn’t to teach her a lesson. It was torture.
My gaze finds her’s once again, and I’m hit with a wave of clarity, noting the girl sitting on my bed—our bed—who was previously covered in open wounds and gore, searching the eyes of the girl who is more powerful than she can ever imagine. An ache in my chest forms with every passing second that I stare longingly at the once piercing green eyes that captivate me, now looking dull and void of hope. She holds every weapon in an arsenal to break down everything I’ve built. Kalliope Whitmore will be my downfall. And I fear I have already fallen too far, too deep into the belly of the beast to ever mind the lonely solitude that greets me when I meet the end.
A crackle of thunder pulls me out of my trance, and a drop of water hits my forehead before rolling down the side of my face. We both look up toward the night sky, countless raindrops falling down like they’ve been held captive in the clouds far too long, and they’ve been released in slow motion. Closing my eyes, I stretch my arms out wide, welcoming it.
Peeling one eye open, I look down at Kallie, the chattering of her teeth silent, the storm drowning it out. She turns over, giving me her back, body shaking either from the chill of the rain or sobs. I can’t tell.
She looks so small, curled on her side while the rain drenches her along with everything else. The bedspread clings to her, molding to every dip and curve of her body. Something possesses me as I drop my arms down to my sides, and I climb into bed behind her. Her body visibly stiffens, going utterly rigid at my intrusion. I prop my head up in my hand and lie facing her. My other hand snakes up, and I begin running my fingers through her hair.
A few moments pass before I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” No response. “The nightmare.” I clarify.
“No.” Her voice is like a strained whisper, like it took everything in her to keep her emotions under lock and key to get that one word out, afraid if she said anything more, the dam would break again.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t know,” I lie. I’m lying next to her, in a torrential downpour, because seeing her like this breaks something in my chest. She looks so fragile and alone in that beautiful head of hers.
The only suffering she will be enduring is from my hands.
She doesn’t say anything else, and we just lie there. She doesn’t tell me to leave, doesn’t tell me to stop. So I don’t.
I stay there, running my fingers through her hair, tracing up and down her arm, while she lets the last remaining sobs escape her. I listen as thoughts of Kate play in her mind, reminiscing on the life she once had. Eventually, her breathing evens out, her body fully relaxes, and I know sleep has greeted her.
My fingers, still intertwined in her hair, slowly move to trace down her arm. I’m left to my own thoughts as her mind turns off for the night, and all the events from today finally catch up to me, and I’m greeted with sleep at last.