Chapter 12
ARIANNA
The sun beaming into my bedroom window wakes me up a lot sooner than I wanted. Another hour in bed, and I probably would have been more ready for the day.
The first thing my eyes land on is the business card on my bedside table.
For a moment, a shock of fear runs through me.
But it’s not Drake’s name on this one. I reach over to pick it up and study it again.
The thick black card appears expensive, and the typeface is set in a clean, elegant font tinted blue.
Gaelan Illis
For all of your business needs.
I’m not sure what business needs he deals with, but it seems like a pretty broad statement to me. Flipping it over in my fingers, I sit up and reach for my phone. He did say I could message him whenever I wanted. Before I can stop myself, I open WhatsApp and type.
Hey Gaelan, this is Ari… I’m not sure if you remember me. We met at my parents’ memorial. You gave me your number and I just wanted to say hi :)
I stare at the message for a few seconds, trying to decide if I should send it or not. Do I sound too desperate, like a young girl with a crush? I go to press the exit button, but my phone slips in my hand and I end up pressing send.
“Shit!” Groaning, I fall back onto the bed and close my eyes. Nice one, Ari. Now he’s going to think you’re some kind of weirdo. Chucking my phone onto the bed, I get up. It’s fine, it’s not like he’s going to message me back.
I busy myself making breakfast. The house is empty for once, which I am grateful for. I’ve got a box of old paperwork from my Aunt’s house that I’ve been meaning to go through.
After breakfast, I flop down on the sofa, pulling the box closer to me.
When I open it, I am immediately drawn to the old envelope sitting on top.
The paper appears to have seen better days.
It has a yellowish hue due to age, and the writing on the front has faded, making it illegible.
The edges are torn, and a gold ribbon is attached to the top.
My fingers brush over its soft silk, winding the tassel around each one.
“No, silly… tonight is the ball,” A voice giggles around me, making my head snap up.
I glance around me, looking for the source of the noise. Did one of them come home when I wasn’t paying attention? “Lucy?” I shout, hoping to God she answers me back and I haven't gone crazy.
Nothing.
I wait for a moment and then shake my head, trying to get rid of the nervous energy in the pit of my stomach.
It feels like there is something I’ve forgotten, something pressing just against the edges of my memory.
Then I see him. His outline is faint, almost like a ghost, but it’s him, nevertheless.
Gaelan, with his perfect blue eyes, is looking right at me.
“What the fuck?” The words leave my lips before I can stop them. What is going on?
There’s a shift in the air around me, then everything twists and turns; the lights in my living room blur together in a mix of colors and keep spinning.
My stomach turns like the worst parts of a fairground ride, nausea creeping up my throat.
I feel like I’m being pulled apart, but before the sensation can get worse, the room stills, and the aroma of lemon hits me.
I swallow, trying not to throw up as I place a hand on my chest and take in some slow breaths. Then I hear that whispered voice again: “You know my mother is hoping you will take my sister to the ball.”
I peer further into the room, and in the dim light, the images come into focus.
The voice I heard earlier belongs to a woman with the same amber eyes as my grandfather, as me.
She’s beautiful, with dark red hair and creamy white skin that makes her almost look unreal. She has a pile of books in her arms.
“But it is you I wish to attend with, Miss.” The man, who bears a striking resemblance to Gaelan, gives her a dimpled smile. I glance around and realize my living room has completely faded away around me. This must be some kind of vision; it’s not a magic that I’m comfortable with.
Visions have always felt like bad omens to me.
The woman is clutching a stack of books, and fades from view as she walks towards what used to be my kitchen. The man follows closely behind her.
I race after them.
“My suitor is taking me this evening. We have been courting for some weeks now, my lord. What you’re suggesting would be incredibly improper.” Her cheeks turn a light pink.
The blue-eyed man growls low and reaches for her arm, pulling her close. The sudden closeness clearly surprises her, but she doesn’t look upset. It’s evident by the way they are both breathing hard, the rapid rise and fall of their chests, that they want each other.
“Miss? My lady—I was too late this time.” With that, he places a kiss on her lips. So soft, so gentle; he looks like he’s savoring every last second of it. He whispers, “I shall return,” and then he is gone.
I watch as the redhead lifts her finger to her lips, as if she wants that kiss to last much longer than it did. She is shaking, but not in fear.
I’m about to open my mouth to speak when that twisting feeling comes back, making me stumble.
The world around me fades to dark, and I clamp my eyes shut, trying not to throw up.
Just as suddenly, the world jerks to a stop, and I find myself back in my own time, on my own sofa, clutching the invite in my hand.
What the hell was that? I wonder. I drop the invite in the box and stare down at the contents. It’s a testament to my lack of survival skills that I reach into the box again and pull out a little tattered notebook, its title embossed in gold.
“Ancient History of Witches, Daemons and The In Between,” I read out loud, the title of the book familiar on my lips. I turn the book over in my hands, then open it to the first page and read:
A brief look at the rise and fall of some of the most powerful daemon clans to have ever existed in the Underworld, and the magick that makes them unique. While some of those clans still rule to this day, sightings of a few have become so rare that it is believed that they have become extinct.
M.K. Jayla.
Closing the book with a sigh, I wish I’d never opened it.
I know about the magick of this world, but obviously not enough. The mention of the Underworld makes me shiver—I never even considered such a place could exist before this all started.
I toss the book back into the box, then climb off the sofa. Paperwork and files in hand, I walk up the stairs toward my bedroom.
Placing the box on my bed, I reach for another thick file. I curl up in the reading seat on my bay window ledge.
To keep it from digging into my hip, I pull the phone out of my pocket. I’m about to set it on the seat beside me when a new message flashes on the screen. I open it and can’t help the huge smile that crosses my face—Gaelan messaged me back.
Gaelan
Hey Ari. How could I forget you?
Hi. Lol, how are you?
Gaelan
Doing well, how are you?
His words have silly little butterflies traipsing giddily around my stomach. My smile grows as I reply.
I just found your card and well… How is life treating you?
I hit send and place my phone down, but it pings straight away with a new message.
Gaelan
Life is better now that I’ve finally heard from you. Have dinner with me?
A thrill runs through me, and I bite my lip in excitement. I decide not to say precisely what I’m thinking—no need to scare him off by sounding too eager just yet. Right?
I would love to have dinner with you. I’m free this weekend?
I hit send and then stare at my phone waiting for another message to come through.
After a few minutes had passed without a response, I placed it on the cushion next to me and picked up the file on top of the stack.
On the front, in some kind of gold glitter pen, is a drawing of the same dragon that’s on my necklace. , Its gold eyes stare at me.
Inside the folder, the first sheet of paper is a list. I read it out loud.
“Mind daemons, Snake daemons, Empath daemons, Seeker daemons, The King of the Underworld, Sorcerer daemons.”
The list goes on and on. I flick to the king of the underworld page. There is a symbol featuring two swords, crossed over at the hilt, with what appears to be a crown and horns. The picture is hand-drawn, and its rendering isn’t apparent.
“Tate?” I begin to read.
Tate is the ruler and king of the underworld. After killing his entire family and the devil, he took the throne for himself. Those who refuse to bow to him and live by his rule are sentenced to death. He is not married, but he has many children.
The words stop after that. He killed the devil? What kind of daemon is powerful enough to kill the devil himself?
A cold, terrified shudder skips down my spine. I pray he never comes into the club.
I flip through the pages until I find a section on snake demons.
Snake daemons live in packs. At birth, they are paired with a snake that will be their life companion. All snake daemons have purple eyes and snake-like features on their faces.
“Well, they sound scary,” I whisper. I flip through the following pages, pausing again when I see the dragon from my necklace illustrated on a page. “Sorcerer daemons,” I read aloud, running my hands over the dragon. The surface is textured under my fingers from the marks the pen has made.
Sorcerer daemons are the second most powerful race of daemons to have lived in the Underworld. It is said that even the devil himself feared them. These daemons exist solely to nurture one true power—a power which is bound to one soul. This soul has the power to destroy it all.
The Book Reader.
The only one who can read the Book of Power.
“The Magistera.” Meaning one of unlimited power and ruler of them all.
There are no pictures on this page. He’d said I was the book’s only reader. Is this what he meant?
I read the last part.
While powerful when separated, the soul and its book are said to be unstoppable when united.