Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
JADEON
Within hours of burying the ashes, I arrived home but lingered on the shoreline, hesitant to discover what awaited me.
As expected, the tide was in and water surrounded the castle.
Reassured that no one watched me, I flew high into the air, heading toward the chateau.
The green-blue water shimmered beneath me.
When I reached land, I threw up blood.
Although this new ability to travel in this manner was exhilarating, there was something demonic about it which caused terrifying waves of fear. My father had spent a lifetime tracking and killing creatures of the night. My life was in his hands.
Quiet loomed in a once-busy castle, and taking my time I let my eyes wander over the interior, hoping for some sign all was now well.
The quiet was eerie as I ascended the stairs.
A sigh of relief came when I set eyes on Alex, resting calmly within his bedroom.
Placing my hand on his forehead, I gauged his temperature.
His skin burned, the fever having taken hold of him.
Studying him, I was reassured to find him still human.
Taking a seat next to him, I gained some comfort from holding his hand.
There was still hope that my disease was not permanent.
More lies, only this time from myself. I refused to give up hope.
“Jadeon, is that you?” Alex opened his eyes.
“You have a fever, but we have the best doctors.”
I noticed Alex’s wrist had a bandage wrapped neatly around it.
“What happened?” I asked.
Alex struggled to push himself up. He rested back against the bed frame and clutched my arm.
“Where have you been, Jadeon?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You have been gone for . . . God, you are pale,” he said.
“I am here now.”
“He has gone mad.”
“It’s over.”
“You spoke with Father?”
“Not yet. What do you think . . . happened?”
“Lord Velde saved my life. He stopped Father from . . . from killing me.”
“Not Father.”
“Yes, Father. Look!” Alex thrust up his wrist. “He did this to me.”
Alex was shaken. When he was well again, he would be ready to face the truth.
“Where is Father now?” I asked.
“God knows. He has not come to visit me. Not that I want him to.”
“I see.” I tried to unravel his scrambled words.
“There was a fight, it was terrible.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to recall.”
“You’re safe now.”
“Daumia, he said that I had to give you something.” Alex reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a gold ring. He handed it to me.
I examined it carefully, recognizing the crest. A gradual fear came over me. The engraved scribe read, “Stone Master.”
I heaved and struggled for words, “When did you last see . . . Velde?”
Alex, do not tell me the answer.
“He left a few moments ago, just before you arrived, Jadeon.”
“No!”
“Yes. Why?”
“His ashes.”
“What ashes?” Alex stared at me.
“Oh, my God! Father.” I leapt up.
I had believed the embers I had found at Stonehenge were Orpheus’s.
This was a nightmare without end, unraveling still.
As I stared at my hands, the truth hit me with cruel clarity—it had been me who unwittingly took my father's ashes, who had scattered them carelessly into the cracks of the towering stones.
Not with reverence. Not with love. Only with a heart poisoned by hate.
And the only way my father could have been reduced to ash . . . was if Orpheus had burned him alive.
But first, he had turned him . . . “Do not give him permission to enter the room,” I snapped. “Do you understand.”
“How can that stop him?”
My jaw tight with frustration. “Can you recall anything else?”
“Daumia mentioned he had a rendezvous with the Church.”
I sprinted from the room.
I hurried to the convent in Marazion, riddled with guilt. My father’s remains were now entombed with his enemies.
And I had put them there.
There was no time to grieve. Only the blame was welcome.
On my arrival at the convent it was typically quiet, the air still, nothing out of place.
I had to see Catherine. Aware that breaking down the door would cause the other nuns distress, I restrained myself and rang the doorbell, pacing the ground before the entrance.
Peering into the courtyard through the wooden shutters I strained to glimpse any sign of danger.
A small frail nun soon arrived at the door.
I towered over her. “Catherine, where is she? Is she here?”
“Lord Artimas, is that you?”
“Yes. Catherine?” I pushed for an answer.
“She . . . she is gone.” The nun stepped out from the convent.
“What do you mean she is gone? Where did she go?”
“A gentleman came for her. She was reluctant at first, but he persuaded her. They were heading for St. Michael’s Mount.”
“How long ago did they leave?” I asked.
“Oh, a while back.” She handed me a string of rosary beads. “Sister Catherine asked me to give you these.”
I clutched the beads. “Thank you, sister. How did he persuade her?”
“Why, he told her you were distressed. I assumed it was because of Master Alexander’s terrible accident. But now that I see you—”
“What accident?”
She appeared confused. “Why, Lord Velde informed us of the—”
“What accident?” I pressed.
“He said that your brother had fallen ill from an ancient blood curse.”
I staggered back.
Orpheus had lured me here only to carry out his final plan—his wicked scheme to destroy everyone and leave me immortal, condemned to suffer the consequences for eternity.