Indulge (10 page)

My father’s face grew red instantly, his eyes flashing to Jarvan. They stared at each other and nodded. Seconds later, they flew out of the room so fast my hair fluttered up as if an ocean breeze had lifted it, tickling my face.

“Tell what happened,” my mother said. She took a seat across from me, but kept my hands in hers. Her soft skin was soothing against mine and I closed my eyes as she ran her fingers gently through my hair, trying to relax me.

When I felt my heart slow back to its normal pace I opened my eyes again. “When I woke up there was something in my bed. I thought I had stained the sheets from being outside last night, so I looked closer and that’s when I saw it.”

My lip quivered as I recalled the memory. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” My mother cooed.

“A black stone,” I said, staring at the ground. When I heard my mother gasp, I looked up.

Shock was written clearly on her face. She clutched my hands tighter, “This can’t be. Please don’t let it be.” She jumped from her seat and began pacing the room rubbing her temples with one hand, the other over her stomach. The sight of her made dread bubble up inside me again like a witch’s cauldron. Was the situation more dire than I had thought?

Hours seemed to go by as we waited for my father to return. Blood Guards had shown up and now blocked the door, while my mother and I waited. She continued to pace about the room and I curled up in my chair, wrapping the shawl tighter around me. The weight of the emotions had taken a toll and sleep threatened to claim me. I fought it as best I could, afraid to go to sleep. I wanted to be awake when my father came back. I wanted to know what that stone meant.

The scent of my mother’s honey-suckle perfume filled my nostrils as she walked by and my eyes flashed open. She sat across from me again, her eyes closed and her head resting back against the chair. I had never seen her like this and I didn’t like it.

“Where’s Arrick?” I asked. The question just fell out.

“He’s left already, darling,” she said, her eyes remaining shut.

I should have known. It hurt that he didn’t say goodbye and with everything that was going on I needed him near me. I had to tell myself he would be back soon to keep from crying. I didn’t like this new emotional side that the stone had pulled out of me. I felt like I was falling apart.

Finally, a long time later, a loud noise startled my mother and I awake. We must have fallen asleep. Neither of us had heard my father and Jarvan enter. A large black box sat in the center of the table.

It was ornately carved, but in a sinister way. Naked bodies and tortured faces wrapped around the ebony wood in a seemingly endless scene of misery. Recalling vividly how the stone made me feel, it seemed the perfect casing for such an object. In a grotesque, twisted kind of way.

I looked to the box and then to my father’s face. It was still red, but anger and dread were clearly visible. The stone had the same effect on him. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or more fearful of that fact.

“Is it true?” my mother asked, her hands shaking as she stared at the box. My father simply nodded and fell back into his seat. “All the stars in the heavens,” she said, her chest rising and falling quickly.

The severity of the presence of the stone was apparent, but no one was talking about it. Was it what I feared it was? What was it doing to me?

Only Jarvan met my questioning eyes as they danced across the room, silently pleading anyone to speak up and confirm what my instincts were telling me. “It’s a dark stone,” he said nodding toward the box.

I looked to my father, who was rubbing his temples, his fangs exposed in a severe grimace.

“So, does that mean they are here?” I feared the answer but I needed to know.

“It is very possible. The stones mean many things. It is hard to know its purpose without knowing who put it there,” Jarvan said.

“Why… I mean, what did it do to me? I have never felt so terrified in all my life.”

Jarvan nodded, clearly agreeing that he knew that same feeling well. I sensed that this wasn’t his first encounter of a dark stone. Maybe that was why he was so callous and hard. I couldn’t imagine ever having to experiences this sense of dread ever again. I didn’t know if I could take it.

My mother placed her hand on mine and took a deep breath. She looked to my father and he immediately lifted his head, as if sensing her eyes on him. When he nodded she looked back to me. “Dark stones are unbelievably powerful objects. They take incredible power to make and require the ultimate sacrifice to make. The stronger the stone is, the greater the sacrifice was to create it.”

Tears threatened to fall as she spoke and with every word the threat to our world grew more bleak. Fear build inside me - but something else was brewing too. It was my vampire instincts, fighting like a beast for release, wanting revenge on the bringer of this stone.

I felt like the only thing my vampire instincts wanted was revenge. Like there were two beings inside me. Myself and something else. Something dark.

The thoughts were always there in the back of my mind, always wondering and planning for when I would have my chance to avenge my pain. Then again, since becoming a vampire, that was pretty much all I had experienced. Maybe if things had happened differently, then I would be different. Wouldn’t I?

My mother couldn’t seem to find the words to go on, so Jarvan continued in her stead. “Dark stones are created using the soul of an unwilling sacrifice. It captures the pain, fear and misery that they feel at the moment of their death. They seal it inside the stone and cast a spell that amplifies the feelings of the soul trapped inside.”

My mouth fell open in shock. “So, what I felt… that was what someone else felt?” My heart screamed in sadness for the anguished soul trapped inside the stone. What had they died for? So, that The Dark could use it as their calling card and scare people? “Can we break it? We can’t just let someone’s soul be trapped inside.” I didn’t know if souls felt anything, but I wouldn’t want my soul to be trapped in a stone.

“The stone is indestructible. There is no way to break them that we know of,” my mother said.

I was confused. I had always thought that The Dark were vampires, but this sounded like something else. “They use magic?” I had never heard of anyone using magic before; it only existed in stories.

Jarvan nodded. “The Dark practice black magic. You have heard the tale of the battle of the Dark Ages?” I nodded. “The vampires who turned against Nyx and their own kind grew ravenous for the taste of blood and power. Even though they had been defeated, it has always been suspected and feared that some fled. I, for one, knew that they would always come back.”

My father groaned at that, clearly at odds. It seemed to me like Jarvan was a very suspicious character. He looked battle worn. He had seen the Dark Ages first hand and it very clearly still affected him. I guess an experience like that could never be erased from your mind and would haunt you forever.

“No one could ever find them, Jarvan. Guards scoured the land looking for the deserters, but none were ever found. Why should we live our lives, fearful of their return, when we could not even prove there were any left? If we had done so, it would have given them a victory in some small way. No, we had to rebuild and bring our people confidence and security,” my father said. There was a hint of irritation in his voice, like he had had this conversation many times. His brow creased and he went back to rubbing his temples.

“Why can’t we use magic to destroy it then?” It didn’t seem like a crazy question when I thought it, but by the reactions of everyone in the room I was sorely mistaken.

“No, child,” My mother grabbed my face, her expression growing stern. “You mustn’t practice magic. To do so is to travel a dark path, away from the Goddess. To do it, you must expel the humanity left within you.” She placed her hand on my chest. “Do you understand? You will lose who you are.”

“Members of The Dark follow another God. One who gets his power from the souls of the living. Magic isn’t the appropriate word for it. More like the energy of the person’s life force,” Jarvan explained.

He always seemed such a bitter, angry man, but now he just looked sad. Something registered when I looked into his old, sad eyes. Was the soul of someone Jarvan had loved, killed and trapped in a stone?

How could anyone survive such pain? I thought of those I loved and what I would do if it happened to them. The despair was almost unimaginable. Knowing their soul would never rest and the pain of their deaths would play out endlessly like a broken record player. My body shivered in fear at the thought.

So, doing magic ourselves wasn’t an option. I certainly wasn’t going to take someone’s soul so I could have power. What else was there? “What do we do now? Just leave the stone in the box?”

“The box contains the power of the stone. It must remain inside. The effects will wear off soon,” said my mother, holding me close.

At the end of the room, their faces stricken with emotion, my father and Jarvan spoke in whispers. Everyone here was like Robin, wearing their feelings openly, no hiding how they felt. I loved that about Naos, but right now I wanted more. I wished I could tap into my father’s thoughts and know what he was thinking.

The sight of the captain of the guard marching into the room answered my question. I had seen him before, talking with my father about their plans. Obviously, plans were about to change.

“Your majesty,” Renek bowed deeply. His armor gleamed from under his crimson cape. For an older man he was incredibly handsome. A strong jawline carried the shadow of a growing beard and a scar ran down his face from brow to cheek. On anyone else the scar would cause heads to turn away - but on Renek it fit him. Like it was a badge of honor.

“Assemble the guard,” my father said with finality. I had a feeling it meant more than just a gathering of the Blood Guard. We were preparing for an attack.

Renek nodded, not the slightest bit affected by the order. I guessed a captain would have to be prepared for anything. I certainly wasn’t. I could still feel my nerves tingling inside me. I watched Renek march out of the room followed by Jarvan. No doubt they were spreading the news and the quiet, peaceful Château would soon turn into a stronghold.

As the two men exited they were quickly replaced by other people as they filed into the strategy room one by one. Some I could easily tell were vampires, and others I wasn’t quite sure. They wore long capes, like the human servants of the house, except they had crests sewn onto the breast.

“Who are they?” I whispered to my mother. She was watching everyone conversing, their hushed tones echoing throughout the room. And why did they need to whisper? We all knew what was happening.

“They are members of the guard.”

I looked back at the people and was shocked. There were two older men well into their seventies, three women that I guessed where in their forties and a younger man around thirty. They didn’t look like a very battle hardy bunch to me.

“Really?” I hated to sound so doubtful, but after seeing Renek and the other warrior-like Blood Guards around the Château, these people looked nothing like them.

“Not all of the guard is composed of soldiers. Being a member of the guard doesn’t mean you just guard the city; it also means safeguarding its values, traditions and skills. Like the older man there, with the golden crest,” she said, pointing, “You see how he has an anvil embroidered with flames blazing behind it?”

I nodded. I focused my vision and stared at the crest. It was meticulously sewn. The golden edging was most definitely Naos sand. I had grown so fond and familiar with its hue after spending so much time on the beach. I would know that color anywhere.

“He is a weaponsmith,” she said. “Many people join the guard because they wish to become masters in their craft. The time these people have spent perfecting their abilities and skills makes then invaluable. They must be informed of the situation, so they can help us to prepare.”

I hadn’t really paid attention before to how things worked in Naos. I knew Arrick had told me a similar story, but knowing me I was lost in thought and it hadn’t resonated in my mind. Seeing all these people, all these experts in their trade, gave me a sense of safety. We weren’t some unsuspecting region that The Dark could terrorize in the night. I had a feeling we had a sleeping beast that was ready to defend us if we needed it.

Conversations grew louder as planning began. I had spent hours sitting in the room, listening to everything. I wanted to soak everything in and learn as much as I could, but most of all I wanted to be a part of it.

When I overheard my father talking with an elderly man, adorned with a crest of a fox, that they wanted to send me into hiding for my own protection, I spoke up. “I won’t hide. I want to help.” My voice didn’t sound as convincing as I had wanted, but both men smiled up at me.

“She’s a brave little thing. I’ll give her that.” The old man winked at me and I couldn’t hold back a smile. If I could win him over, maybe I could talk my father into letting me do something. I knew I wasn’t helpless. There had never been a vampire like me before and I knew I was tougher than I looked. I had proved that much, I hoped.

“And what can you do?” my father asked. There was an amused note to his voice. I couldn’t say that I liked the sarcasm, but it was nice to see him smile again after the evening started so ominously.

“I can fight.” I pulled my shoulders back, standing as tall as I could.

“I don’t doubt your courage, Claire, but I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”

I folded my arms and wrinkled my brow in frustration. I could fight, I knew I could. Plus I didn’t want to be left waiting for who knew what to come after me.

“Let the girl fight if she wants to, Cathair,” the old man chimed in, smiling at me. “She has the heart of a warrior, and with a little training I’m sure she could be an asset. Besides, you don’t want to leave her defenseless, do you? A young vampire would be an easy target.”

I was glad to hear the old man had my back, although I didn’t much like being referred to as an easy target. He did have a point though. A little training would do me good. If it would make me stronger, I was all for it. Finally, something myself and the killer instincts inside me had in common. Neither of us wanted to be left out like a lamb for the wolves to prey on.