Chapter 8 Darius
Suggested Listening: Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low
There are times when I do not dare voice what the future might hold.
There is a risk in sharing and a risk in keeping it secret.
The varied results of today flit through my mind, filling me with waves of dread and hope so drastic my stomach twists into knots and my hands are constantly damp.
It’s difficult to keep from throwing up. The anxiety of it has me on edge.
I’d known we would be flanked and attacked when I sent Puck and Vyslan on ahead.
But I also knew that if either were to go alone, the thralls would surge out the door and possibly gravely injure Gracie, thereby throwing the entire rescue into disarray.
Neither option was foolproof. There was some risk in each.
But I think we made the best decision possible.
Everything relies on us making the correct choice at the correct moment from now onward.
A misstep and that future with the six of us sitting around the living room in companionable silence will become nothing but a dream.
And I’m not willing to let that happen. That dream has kept me alive and pushing ahead for too long.
I will cling to it with every fiber of my being.
So far, so good, as the humans say.
I glance over my shoulder to peer at the trees and gravel around us. Not that I can see much. My vision hasn’t truly gone. I see shapes and contrasts in light, mostly. In another few years it will be gone entirely, but I won’t miss it. Not when my abilities mean this little family is safe.
My vision is less than reliable in the best of conditions.
But my other senses compensate for what I’ve lost. My magic has also developed differently, providing me with another type of awareness that is far more astute.
Magic and life are just another form of energy.
And I can feel their sources. An adept person could still hide themselves from me.
And the undead pose a particular kind of problem that leaves me vulnerable in a vampire’s lair.
Out here, though, I’m confident that there are no other living creatures out there watching us or lying in wait.
We can do this. The happiness we waited for is so close.
The temptation to rush ahead and seize that future is strong.
It’s difficult not to get ahead of myself.
To be in this moment. When I feel myself slipping into another time, I jab my nails into my palm, slicing into the skin.
I trimmed them into points this morning for this very purpose.
It’s enough to keep me grounded. Not to mention, Puck can work with the blood I leave behind.
It’s a little disorienting to look through Isa’s eyes as they trot alongside me.
To compensate, my other senses extend, helping me maintain my balance.
I’m too accustomed to Isa being at shoulder height.
This is a dangerous oversight on my part.
I’ll have to work with Isa more in different forms so I don’t hold us back.
Each person in this newly formed family is so talented.
I don’t want to be the weak link, and I certainly don’t want to be left behind or shut away again.
Despite seeing the future, I’m not without insecurity.
I’m all of my brother’s unwanted traits rolled into one person.
If it weren’t for my seer abilities, our parents might have killed me by now for being useless.
It wasn’t so bad when I still had my eyesight.
I was a pawn to them. An adept spy, because no one saw me as a threat.
Many spoke freely around me when they should have minded their words.
It’s a different story now.
What sight I have will fade as my seer’s abilities strengthen.
It’s the price of the gift and why seers often have familiars, even as fae.
I know I can be a burden. I don’t know or understand this world.
Puck has told me of things like cell phones, the internet, and social media.
But that can only take me so far. Even the Steam Deck he got me is useless now because I can no longer see the screen well enough to play even the simplest of games.
The degradation of my eyesight seems to hit in spurts.
One morning, I could see well enough out of one eye to play a game.
By that evening, I couldn’t. If it weren’t for the small electronic device he procured to read me books, I might have gone mad.
I need to pull my weight. I need to look after this budding family so that we might reach that point of happiness.
I’m not altogether weak, though.
Some might think I’m fragile because of my failing eyesight. They would be fools. Our parents culled many things from my brother’s genetics, which they gave to me. And I’ve made it my mission to turn his weaknesses into my strengths.
“Goddess!” Gracie gasps as we reach the first batch of diced bodies. It’s hard to make them out in the lowlight, and I’m grateful. This is going to be a gory trip. “Puck? Vys?”
We hear the grunts and snarls of a fight and scurry forward. I reach out, keeping a hand on her elbow while Luc has an arm around Gracie’s waist.
The fact that the floor is slick with the spilled blood makes me nervous. Is the fight going well? Or poorly?
I might have made recommendations about footwear while trying to be indirect. Everyone has shoes with grippy soles, but there’s only so much that’s good for.
“Flaming cards!” Gracie jumps back as we maneuver through the doorway into some sort of large storage space.
Vyslan holds the two halves of a thrall in his hands while Puck lifts his hands to his face and pinches all five fingers together.
The blood trickles outward, as if it were a cloth laid over his face and he’s pulling it away.
He flings his fingers outward, and the blood splatters on the floor hard enough that there are divots left in the stone.
“Holy fucking shit.” Luciu’s voice trembles, and his fear is palpable even beyond the stench of rotting blood. “Did you…? Are you…?”
Gracie turns toward Luciu and places her hand on his arm. “Take a breath.”
Luciu’s head whips around and he gapes at her. “You knew?”
“That Puck can use blood magic? Yes.” Her voice is calm, steady, and direct.
Luciu’s jaw flops a bit.
Vyslan grins at her and drops the corpse. “Sorry you had to see that, sweet witch.”
His tail twitches like a nervous cat. I don’t think he wanted her to catch that little show at all.
“Luc?” Gracie prompts.
The demon doesn’t seem bothered by this knowledge regarding Puck. But then again, he doesn’t exactly have blood. Puck isn’t a threat to him.
“Sorry.” Luciu shakes his head. “That was shitty of me, wasn’t it?”
“Prejudiced?” Puck sneers.
Luciu chuckles. “I didn’t think blood magic was real, honestly. I used to read horror stories about it as a kid. Scared the piss out of me. Wait… Is that how you monitor Gracie’s pain levels?”
Gracie turns her attention to Vyslan and Puck, but makes no move to go to them. She’s known Vyslan and Puck are both dangerous, but this is the first time she’s seeing it for herself. “A-are you two okay?”
Because she didn’t anticipate this side of him? Because he frightens her now? There are so many possibilities, and I can’t tell which future this is based on her tightly controlled expression.
“Never better,” Vyslan replies.
“The demon is accurate,” Puck says with grudging admiration. “The thralls pose no threat to us. And yes, I do use blood magic to monitor Gracie’s pain levels. Constantly.”
Luciu makes a thoughtful humming sound and stares off into a corner. I think I hear him mutter, “Interesting.”
The momentary tension lacing us together dissipates, and I don’t know why. Somehow, both Luciu and Gracie have come to terms with things and moved on.
This first strike might have gone well, but it might not be sustainable.
I’ve seen other scenarios where the two of them were overwhelmed by the number of thralls.
It’s my hope that those are versions of the future where Ezra didn’t slaughter the thralls sent after him.
That would be a convenient explanation for the lack of numbers.
Besides, it seems unlikely to me that there are scores of thralls hanging around given the general air of vacancy the place is giving.
Rats the size of small dogs hover in corners without fear.
They chitter and glare at us disdainfully.
No doubt wanting us to move on so they can have their meal.
Which means the thralls haven’t been chasing after them looking for a meal.
If there were fewer thralls, the mice wouldn’t be hunted as much.
I won’t hope that my assumptions are accurate, but there is circumstantial evidence.
“You two are fine?” Gracie asks.
Vyslan steps closer. He’s barefoot, and the little wet slaps of his feet do funny things to my stomach. Unpleasant things. Just because I accept my brother’s power as commonplace doesn’t mean I like the results.
“Perfectly fine,” the demon says.
She draws herself up, shoulders squared, and nods at him. “Good. If you get hurt, I’m going to be angry.”
Ah, this is that one.
Vyslan and I seem to come to the same conclusion at the exact same moment: Gracie isn’t disgusted by what they’re doing. She’s concerned about their safety. Her affection for them outweighs any fear their actions might inspire. And she might very well see it all as necessary.
The way I look at it, these thralls aren’t living beings anymore. Their minds have wasted away while their bodies are locked in a form of slavery. Killing them is a mercy, though I wish their end were gentler.
Vyslan’s shoulders relax and his grin widens. “As you wish, sweet witch.”