Chapter Thirty-Four The Nova
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Nova
I felt around the tall grass with my foot, my toes curling in the dirt as the blades licked at my skin. A corner poked my toe.
“There you are.” I snapped down, grabbing the grimoire.
The grass was sentient enough to have lifted my book and slowly let it crawl across the ground.
It took a while to find where all my things had gone to, between the thieving grass and the willow that had since split in two from the nightmarish spider.
With light fingers, I dusted the dirt from the face, blowing the rest of the particles away.
“You may escape to wherever you please after you help me.”
It opened, nearly flapping out of my hand. I pinched the sides to keep it still, a blank page staring back.
I closed my eyes. My intentions had to be sharp if I was ever going to find what I was looking for.
Pale skin and kind eyes, neat black hair, the smell of figs and leather.
My body began to settle, to embrace the emotions.
I summoned his face, his likeness. Then I summoned his memory, calling back to the years of care.
Even when I imagined my love, the image still was able to be corrupted. Now, when I imagined the image of Dorian, Altair came to mind.
No, keep your intentions clear.
I opened my eyes.
The book remained blank.
I flipped the page. All the subsequent pages were blank, but I kept turning them just in case I caught even a drop, a small piece of hope that I would be able to find him.
Until the last page.
I exhaled.
The sound of voices startled me. None of them were eerie whispers of Peculiars or inhuman sounding. It was people talking. There was a warmth to the tones, like early-morning voices over the mundane routine of breakfast.
I followed the chatter. Along the pond and through the bog flowers, the voices became clearer. Within the water, a bit of light farther from the shore. I was nearly positive that the noises were coming from there.
Before I approached, I cracked the book back open in my palms.
This time there was ink, the lines drawn smoothly by some invisible artisan: a young man, with dark hair and light eyes, olive skin. He had an effortless smile, a charming, crooked smirk. Confirmation that this was no monster. Someone was here.
I placed the book on the shore. The chill of the water crept up my ankles, then up my legs the farther I waded.
The light moved, swirling and shifting. Soon I could hear words.
“Florescentia,” a young man’s voice said, muted.
As I approached the light in the water, the images became clearer, like I was watching through a window.
A man knelt before a water trough attached to a dilapidated chapel, high on a hill, with rolling patches of farmland spanning as far as the horizon.
There were no windows or doors; all wood had been reused, as had some of the stone structure.
Sunlight beat down on his wet temples, his hair thick and black, his skin dark like oiled oak.
In the depths of his brown eyes, a spark of hope.
Before him was a leather-bound journal.
From within the dark corners of the chapel, a darkness unfolding, filling the space.
“I can’t live on without her,” the man said. “I want to be with her. A life with her.”
A chorus of whispers came through the water. “And what is it you would trade for such a request?”
“Anything.” He looked over his shoulder, shots fired behind him coming from the town nestled between the hills.
“Anything . . .” The shadow pondered the word.
A darkness grew from within the trough. The shadow looked as if its edges were evaporating from the sun beating down on its limbs. Before long, the water might be mist too.
The day was dying, the sun setting on the scene.
“Since your union will be bound by your world, as well as mine,” the shadow said, “your firstborn will bear your debt.”
The man’s face fell, a cracking of his heart almost audible. Even with the hesitation, he nodded. “You can promise we’ll be together, alive and well, until death?”
The shadow leaned down, touching the portrait on the journal. As he lifted the bound pages, the inscription on the spine revealed itself.
Collesano.
“Papà?” I leaned closer to the water, hoping my eyes were betraying me.
A bright flare came from the shadow, a deal struck from beyond the stars to kiss the earth itself. Before the scene became completely washed out, three eyes stared back from the darkness of the pond.
I stumbled back, and a hand burst from the water, grabbing my arm.
Altair rose from the water, as dark and monstrous as when I’d seen him for the first time. “It was nice being so close without a single quip from you.” The voice rattled like it had echoed around his chest before being set free.
“This was your plan!” I screamed. “You tricked him. You tricked me.”
“I only did as he asked.” He leaned close. “I know it must be hard for you to believe.”
“You know nothing,” I nearly spat, my lip quivering.
He yanked me closer, our faces a breath away.
A thought came to mind, something unthinkable. Deep down, I knew there was merit to the bite in the back of my throat. Another part of me thought I shouldn’t flatter myself.
“You were never going to let me live, were you?” I breathed. “All that nonsense about why you wanted to pass into my world—”
“I was honest with you.”
“You were just hungry.”
His head cocked to the side, a slightly hotter burn to the light in his eyes, nearly blinding.
I turned my face from him. I couldn’t breathe, my vision blurry with tears.
He grabbed my face, a claw piercing each cheek as he squeezed. With my face forced to him, I could practically feel his form vibrate, absolutely radiate, like pure heat from a fire.
“This doesn’t have to be difficult.”
“You are asking me to succumb to the only option you’ve left me. A venture born of manipulation. You are a careless, selfish monster.”
He laughed. “I am not asking.”
“Was anything real?” I bit out. “Or was I a meal? A sacrifice? A pet?”
His claw brushed over my cheek, his other hand smoothing from my waist to my back, pressing me against him. “None of the sort.”
I pressed my palms against his chest, struggling against the grip. I could feel the talons digging into my skin.
“Why would you want to return, anyway?” he whispered in my ear. “Your husband has passed on. Your father traded you. There is no life on Earth that would be more satisfying than what I can offer you.”
Just the thought was making me sick. “There is no satisfaction in a life without choice.” I tried to shake my head. “You let him trade me for my mother’s love, just like you are forcing me into the illusion of choice.”
“Is it force when it is a wish?”
“Would you say I wished for this? That my mother wished for it?” I gritted my teeth.
He didn’t answer, but he searched my expression. Relishing it.
“I will find my way back,” I said steadily, “and I will make sure you are trapped in this place forever.”
The scene was beginning to change. The temperature of the air, the water draining, even the silt beneath my toes.
I turned my back to him, but I was somewhere new by the time I blinked.
I was now in a room, a grand palace hall.
The walls were made of mirrors, the silver behind them beginning to corrode.
Even with its state of decay, the room had an old-world charm to its gilded excess.
Chairs of imported silk, artisanal dyes, windows so tall they were nearly part of the walls themselves.
When I went to rub my chest, a soft fabric had replaced my dirty combinations.
I turned to the mirror. I didn’t recognize the reflection.
My hair was completely down, curls so long and luscious there was not one frizz or tangle. My skin was clean, a balm on my lips. And my dress was not formal, but the type of lounge dress that made you wonder what excess of wealth could consider this the least expensive thing to wear to bed.
From outside the windows, the illusion began to take form.
From the blackness, trees and shrubs began to grow.
The ground made itself from dirt, then grass sprouted as if I were watching it happen over several months.
The pebble walkways snaked through the garden, and the flower beds and greenery began to bloom in the dark. Like a shadow puppet theater.
As I stared through the window, a reflection appeared behind me.
“Get away.” I turned on my heel.
Altair stood in robes just as regal, except his clothing looked as if the stars had woven themselves into the night sky, complete with a high thread count and a shimmer like diamonds.
His human skin nearly glowed with how flawless it was.
Though the shadows were not entirely tangible, they left a dreamy haze, the first clue that the scene wasn’t real to begin with.
“I just want you to understand.” He held his palms facing me, like I was some wild animal to be calmed.
“No.”
“Lucia.” He held his arms out. “Come now, don’t be that way.”
“Not one more word from your mouth, you snake.” I backed away. “Everything you say is poisoned. I will not be a puppet for your game.”
“I thought we liked our games, dear Iris.” He turned to smoke, then suddenly he was in front of me, my face between his hands. “We could have such a good time together. Isn’t that what you like? A bit of adventure? An experience above all experiences?”
“Not when I can’t trust you.” I tried to pull away, but he backed me against the window.
“After all that time together, you really think I wouldn’t be looking out for you?” He had a mocking, sad expression. “I’m hurt.”
“I won’t be making a decision until I know everything,” I said slowly, “about Dorian, about my father, about you.”
“About me?” A smirk spreading across his face, he leaned close, his eyes alight as he spoke to me. “I could give you quite a few lessons.”
He spun me around, pushing my chest against the window. His hands gripped my shoulders, his head lowered beside my ear.
With my palms pressed against the glass, my breath fogged the pane in front of my face, making his reflection go in and out of view.
“I could be so good for you, Lucia. Think on it,” he whispered, his hands smoothing down my arms. His touch was firm, pressing against my body where he could.
He took a troubled breath, a hesitant one, before I felt him press against me.
“I want you to experience every wonder beyond your world, and then make new ones just for us.”
“Us?” I swallowed thickly.
His hands went to my waist, then his lips to my neck.
“You and I are connected in ways you haven’t even begun to understand,” he said, balling his hands in my gown. I could feel the air on my legs as he lifted it. Slowly, fistful by fistful, he grasped at the gown, my body. His hands squeezed my hips, my thighs.
I gasped, the fog of the window smearing as I steadied myself.
“You said . . . you went to my world to die.” I stumbled on my words.
“I did,” he breathed.
“Were you lying to me?”
“Never.” His grip tightened. He left kisses along my shoulder, biting the fabric of the neckline before letting it slip off.
“Then why are we here? Why was my world not enough?”
“Because you make me want to live millions and millions of lives all over again, to make every single experience new.” It was like the words were falling from his mouth as easy as a stream of water.
“Be mine, and I will show you what has been, what will be, and what never had the chance to exist in the first place.”
His hands finally gathered enough fabric, the warmth flustering my skin.
Instinctually I leaned back, and he pressed his body harder into me.
We fit so well, like a pearl in an oyster.
I supposed his body, this skin of his, had been formed precisely for me.
The poison fruit to open my heart, or my legs, I wasn’t positive on which.
“We could be anywhere, from any time,” he said, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin.
The scene just past the window changed.
Suddenly it was a pristine lawn and tall hedges. Fountains made of marble and by the most detailed of craftsmen.
The palace now changed too. It shifted to soft blues and gem tones. My dress was tighter, the stays across my chest encrusted with sapphires. The fabric turned a deep zaffer color.
My neck became heavy, and small pearls dropped over my chest in so many valuable strings that a small town could have been fed for a lifetime from their sale.
“Feel me, Lucia.” He squeezed his body to mine, his hand pressing flat on my abdomen. “I know you can. My words, my heart.”
“You do not have a heart,” I said, my voice strained.
“Believe me,” he begged, then moved the train of my dress to the side. His hand pressed against the back of my leg, then up. “I would hope I can show you with more than words.”
Something warm tucked itself between my legs. I nearly let my knees buckle. He was distracting me.
“We would be so perfect together,” he whispered, his cock pushing between my legs.
“Altair . . .” I breathed. I shook my head.
He pushed me against the glass, pulling my hips back.
My hands steadied against the fogging window.
His hands smoothed up my hips, collecting the dress skirts as he exposed me further. He traced over the vitiligo on my hips, then the patches on my inner thigh.
“I can’t . . .” I said, softly at first. “I can’t!” I shouted, pushing from the window and facing him.
Just the force of my demand made the illusion shatter around us, and we were back in the water, his huge, monstrous figure hunched over me like he was ready to swallow me whole. The endless night hung above as the glowing flora spectated.
My chest heaved, but no breaths were satisfying my body. My hands shook, the clamminess building, as was the heat in my face.
“You can’t charm your way into getting what you want. You can’t just turn to human pleasures to get your way with whatever soul you ruin! Your touch is chaos, and you know it!” I screamed at him. My temple was pulsing from the building headache.
I was tired and frustrated, and now I was just angry to finish it off.
“Consider my offer before you sever any ties.” An unearthly hiss. “And don’t take long. There are things much less kind than me living in this world.”
His form became less clear, then translucent, before the last thing left were the three eyes, and those turned to far-off stars. The perfect camouflage.
Then my only company were those twinklings above, the mud between my feet, and the unmistakable burn in the back of my head that I was in a grave, vicious kind of danger.