By Sara Aziz
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Hey readers! I hope you enjoy the September edition of this month’s Book Bingo!
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September Book Bingo
Author: Sara Aziz
My name's Sara Aziz, and I'm a writer, a poet, and a total bookworm! I created this blog so I could write honestly about how I felt on books, make recommendations, and share my writing on a safe space! I hope you enjoy it. Please like and subscribe!
August Book Bingo
By Sara Aziz
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Hey readers! This is the first edition of my Book Bingos of the Month, where I design and publish a new bingo every month! This month, I just completed a new book that has become one of my favorites, and I realized I had found it simply by trying to fill out a bingo sheet! I hope this helps you find a new book you might love, or helps you step out of your comfort zone! Enjoy, and please like and subscribe!
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Chapter VII- People of Stone and Ash
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers, hope you enjoy Chapter 7, and please like and subscribe! This will be the last chapter I publish over summer break, but I will continue the story after the start of the new school year!
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We continued to walk, the silence suffocating. Damien was near the front when Aleksandr suddenly stopped.
“What are you doing, you psycho?” Alyona nearly shrieked as she stumbled into him.
He have her the gesture to be quiet, than muttered in a sharp voice,
“Will you be quiet.”
“EXCUSE ME? MY FEET ARE FREEZING, I’M HUNGRY, AND YOUR JUST STOPP-“
Aleksandr lunged over to clamp a hand over her mouth, his gaze warning. He nudged a head to the bushes.
Someone was spying on us.
Alyona stilled, and Aleksandr removed his hand as he crept towards the bush, slowly unsheathing his knife. He crouched next to it -the next movements were really to fast comprehend- but I think Aleksandr grabbed the person and threw them to the ground, because they were struggling against his grip as he pinned them. Walking closer, I saw he was a boy, around the same age as me. His hair was a dark brown with black streaks, and his skin was a sort of bronze, like the people who lived in the foreign kingdoms. He opened his eyes, revealing a silvery gray color, like the portrait frames back home, and suddenly, I felt a cascade of homesickness. Shoving that to the side, I stepped back so that Alyona could have a closer look at the sneak.
As she leaned towards him, he began to yell, seeming to have finally regained his senses.
“Get off me! Get off me, you brute! You lummox! You scoundrel of the lowest order!” He went on ranting as Aleksandr quickly tied him, then rose as we moved back a step.
“Thieves! Bandits!” He continued shrieking, almost hysterically.
Aleksandr leaned towards him and muttered something in his ear that had the color draining from his face. He gulped, then turned to look at us, his eyes darting to us, then our surroundings, trying to find somewhere to run no doubt.
“Wh-Who are you?” His voice was quiet, and very scared. I winced at the fear in his voice, hating I was one of the causes of it. He didn’t know who we were, what was going on, or what amount of danger he was in. Almost involuntarily, I walked towards him and knelt next to him.
“We aren’t going to hurt you,”
“We won’t hurt you, I promise.”
He looked at me, his eyes wary, but hopeful. Unsure as well.
Finally, he let out a breath and said.
“My name’s Ishaan. What is yours?”
“Annamaria. But you can call me Maria.”
He turned to look at the rest of us looming over him.
“Then who are you?”
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She was still kneeling next to me, her skin radiating warmth in the terrible cold. Her hair shielded her face, her porcelain skin as pale as the snow that surrounded us. With her delicate skin, dark hair, and deep red eyes, she looked like a Rashkinka doll from back home, like my little sister used to play with. It was meant to stay on the shelf, but she loved that doll anyway.
The excitable brunette came closer and smiled at me, her brown hair matching her eyes like a forest.
“My name’s Alyona. Do you mind if I check for injuries?”
I immediately recoiled as she outstretched her hand.
“I don’t like being touched.”
Her eyes were startled, before looking at the dark-haired woman rising next to me, obviously hoping her friend could give her some explanation. Then, her eyes lit up, sparkling with a mischievous glint I used to see every time Charun dragged me into another of his plots.
Charun.
My best friend.
वह ईश्वर के बगीचे में सदैव ऊँचा चलता रहे
“Where are you going then, Ishaan?”
“Anywhere you’re not.”
“Then you’re out of luck, Ishaan. Because you’re going to be our guide.” Maria whipped her head up to stare at her as everyone else in her group glared. Alyona’s smile was serene as the brute that had tackled me leaned forward to growl,
“This is not your choice, Alyona. Your whims cannot determine our safety.”
“You think he is a danger to us? Don’t make me laugh. He is travelling on his own, seems to understand the terrain, and most importantly, he’s our only option.”
I decidedly already knew I despised people choosing my future for me, and this brown-eyed brunette wasn’t going to command me anymore than they had.
I felt a small hand on my arm, and I looked down to see a scarred, white hand clasping my arm.
“Please. You’re our only hope of getting there within the next week. I’m begging you.”
I didn’t know what was so special about one week, or why they had to be there, but she was obviously desperate, and the tugs at my conscious did not to allow me to refuse. She and Alyona didn’t seem like bad people, after all.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Hirhol.”
Hirhol. A city of ghosts and graves.
“I’ll take you”
“No. It’s not safe, Maria.” A boy with hair as black as hers and golden eyes stepped towards her, his eyes soft as they looked at her before hardening as he turned to glance at me. They were obviously friends, and he seemed determined to protect her.
“For once, Aleksandr’s right.” The large brutes sputtering at the golden-eyed one was almost enough to make me laugh.
“We can’t trust him.”
“Really Damien, I highly doubt it.”
Damien. Alyona. Aleksandr. Maria.
“Who are you?” I asked the one hanging near the back.
“Levka.”
“Mikhail,” The other one supplied, stumbling a bit as he quietly clutching a stack of books like his life depended on it. Levka had words tattood on his arm, I saw, as his sleeves rolled up when he went to help take some books from Mikhail, who was beginning to struggle.
There is no home in life, but in death, there you will find eternal peace
The Ten Skulls
Hmm. I narrowed my eyes at the still arguing Damien and Maria as both of them decided my fate again, taking it from me.
“Why can’t she choose?” I asked.
“Because Maria doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” He almost shouted the words, fear bleeding from the broken edges of his voice, like glass. But glass is double edged.
Break glass, and you bleed.
“I can take care of myself.” Her voice was curt, and he winced before rubbing the back of his neck and sighing.
“Fine. If Maria really believes he’s harmless, he’ll be our guide.”
Aleksandr looked like he was about to choke, his face was so blue, as Maria knelt again and untied me, her hands feather soft.
She stood and held out a hand to help me rise. They don’t know who I am. Perhaps it is best that way.
Perhaps.
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Ishaan was quiet as he led us through a towering forest, the green mixing with the suns setting pink and orange hues, reflecting upon the white of the crisp, pure, untreaded snow to create a picture so enchanting, a thousand words of a thousand writers couldn’t not have described, nor could a painter have captured it, the darkness of an eternal night now melding with the light and sun of day, creating the best of both worlds.
‘That sounds wrong,’ I thought. I explain a lot of things wrong, don’t I?
Levka stood next to me, his arms carrying many of my books.
Friend.
Maria walked near the front, glancing back every now and again to make sure I was alright.
Friend.
No book could have described what it felt like to care, and to have someone care. It felt like a single misplaced word could ruin everything, and also like they could destroy everything you own, and you will still love them. Friends,
Friends,
Friends.
Ishaan stopped for a moment as the sunset began to end, the darkness beginning.
“Why are you stopping?” Aleksandr’s irritated voice broke in.
“The sunset is about to be over, and I wish to see it.” His voice was calm, and his face was serene. Once the sun had faded and the moon finally took its place in the sky, Ishaan continued to walk, footsteps forming in the snow from each fall of his boots, leather and thin. He wore a green shirt that had seen better days, each blow of the wind a whip upon my heavily prepared self, but Ishaan didn’t even flinch, his tranquility at odds with the hysterical boy Aleksandr had tackled earlier. We must have walked for hours, my legs growing tired quickly, each step a struggle. Alyona collapsed, but Aleksandr quickly caught her and carried her through the rest of the wood, her breaths thin.
“How much longer?” He finally barked at Ishaan after hours of peaceful silence.
All Ishaan did was point. And there, down the hill, was a city, fortified with walls of stone.
Hirhol.
A city of ghosts.
“If you can get inside, I can take you too a…friend of sorts, who can help you get anywhere in the city.”
“What do you mean, if we can?”
“Hirhol is one of the most well-fortified cities on the planet, and they plan to keep it that way. Immigrants and refugees are guarded against with a ferocity that is well-known throughout the educated countries.” His smooth jab at Jeterna in his calm voice was enough to make Aleksandr clench his fists, Alyona narrow her eyes, and Damien growl.
Patriotism.
I never was one for it.
“We aren’t refugees or immigrants, though.” Alyona told him, her voice a tad cooler.
“Then what are you?” He had a slim eyebrow raised, his voice genuinely curious. Maria hurried to stand next to him.
“We are nothing and we are no one. We’re just looking for someone.”
“Who?”
This was going into dangerous territory.
“My father. Marco Lopez.”
“I’ve heard of him! He’s a neurobiologist?”
“Yes. He went missing a few months ago.”
Ishaan nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. They didn’t seem to notice the tremble in her voice, the way her fingers flexed, like she wanted to curl them.
We’re entering a city of ghosts, I reminded myself, as we walked down the hill.
Everyone has a secret,
and skeletons are stacked high.
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We stopped in front of the gates, the iron and stone a mockery of my lies. Everything was flashing in my mind, in front of my eyes.
Missing.
Alive.
But most of all,
a grave I visited, a grave I buried, near the riverside.
A stone, blank and curved marked the spot. The wind had rustled when I went to see it, the willow leaves fluttering violently, just like at her funeral. The river was a rushing torrent behind me.
“You said you’d always be there.” My voice was broken, as I looked up to see my father.
He stood in front of his grave, a soft smile on his face as his black curls fell into his eyes just like they had whenever we played tag among the fir trees back home.
He would throw his head back and laugh, a booming sound that resonated all throughout the fields. Then he would pick me up, spin me around, and call me his angel.
“Sometimes people lie, don’t they?”
He nodded sadly.
“I never meant a thing to you, did I?” My head was bowed, my voice thick, as I struggled to hold back my tears.
“I never meant a thing to you. If I had, you might have stayed.”
He shook his head, reaching towards me, arms outstretched, and with a strangled sob, I launched myself at him. But when I opened my eyes, he was gone, and all I held was a broken dream and a thousand memories, in front of a shallow grave.
“Who are you?” A man barked at us from the gate, his black hair with a streak of white gleaming in the sun like a horrid skunk creature.
“We are foreigners, good man, and we wish to enter the enlightened city.” Ishaan’s voice was cold.
“Is that you, Kaur?” A man called down, standing at the top of the gate, this one with gray hair and brown eyes.
“Good day, Robir,” He called back.
“मैं उस पास का उपयोग करता हूं जो गेट ने उनके लिए दिया है, अच्छा प्रबुद्ध शहर।” There was a pause, then,
“Let ’em in!” The guard called.
The gates creaked open, and we walked in, feeling more than a bit apprehensive as the gates clanged behind us.
“That was easier than I thought.” Damien said with a smirk even I found annoying.
“Yes. Easy.” Ishaan’s voice was clipped, and the corners of his eyes tightened.
What had he said?
Mikhail sidled up next to me.
“I wonder what the pass of the gate means.” he murmured.
“What pass?”
“You didn’t understand him?”
“No! What did he say?”
“I use the pass that the gate has given for them, good illuminated city.”
I paused, digesting that rather strange bit of information.
“I guess we have our own little mission in Hirhol now, don’t we?”
He gave me a broad smile before trotting to the front to walk with Levka.
My smile slowly faded as we made our way through the streets.
“I have a friend who can help you in there,” Ishaan nodded his head toward a building.
The Queens Inn, Best Beds in Town!
A rowdy dance, a man laughing near the fire.
Two step,
Three step,
Twirl,
Bow.
“Come on, angel!”
My father spun me around on the floor as my mother danced behind us, singing an off-key tune.
“Good night, honey,” She whispered as I fell asleep.
Waking up to her leaving.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Mama?”
“Go back to sleep.”
Her face was blurry.
“Go back to sleep.”
The streets were near empty as we walked, and the ones who were there kept there heads ducked and wore clothes that seemed to blend with the walls of stone.
I’ve been here before.
It was different, though.
“Where do you want to start looking for Maria’s father?” Ishaan asked, making me almost wince at the reminder of my lie.
“We’ll start at the palace,” Damien said confidently. Ishaan stopped abruptly, then he burst out laughing, the walls and ground seeming to absorb the beautiful sound, free and bright.
“Very few people can just waltz right in.”
“You said the same about the gates,” Alyona pointed out,
“And look how easy that was.”
His calm smile never once wavered.
__________________________________
“No.”
That was the only response we got from those guards.
No.
Ishaan gave us a small bow as he turned, his eyes dancing with amusement, as though to leave.
“Where are you going?” Maria asked.
“You wanted a guide into the city, and now I have been one. And besides, I have told you where you can find help. You will be fine. ” He gave her a faint smile as he backed away, then whirling around so as to walk forward, straight into a city of silence.
I cradled my books even more protectively, already missing the calm presence of Ishaan Kaur.
“What will we do now?” Alyona’s voice was thin, her eyes bordered with silver.
Maria’s smile was just as thin, but she pointed at a large building with faded words that I couldn’t make out.
“When in doubt, just go to the library.”
Her steps were light and quick, a hopeful glint in her eye replacing the small smile she had before. She pushed open the doors quietly, and a small woman looked up from behind a cart. It was piled with old classics from civilizations long gone.
Crime and Punishment.
Bleak House.
Great Expectations.
War and Peace.
Notes from the Underground.
Pride and Prejudice.
A hundred stories of a hundred lives.
“Hello, strangers.” She had a soft, feathery voice that seemed like it would rip or break with the softest wind. Her eyes were a pale blue, rheumy and deep.
“Welcome to my library.”
Aleksandr tensed.
“This is useless. Why are we here? We are merely following the orders of an untrained little girl! When you all come to your senses, I will be trying to find some actual information.”
With those words, he turned and stormed out, Alyona sending Maria a regretful smile as she followed him, Damien, and Levka out.
“Mikhail, you coming?” Levka called from the doorway.
“Yeah.” I turned to give Maria one last glance, and saw her staring after us, the slight wind pushing her hair across her face, her eyes flashing. And then she turned and vanished into the endless, dark stacks of the library.
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“Wait, child!” The old woman cried, her legs creaking as she relied on a old wooden cane. I stopped, barely inclining my head so as to see her.
“Seems you can appreciate the beauty of the written word, and the wisdom of those who are now gone.”
A riddle.
“When the dead speak, I shall listen, but till then, may I stand and fight.”
“Well aren’t you a clever one. 1000 Breakable Things, by Zarai Kernati.”
I turned at that, a faint smiling pulling at my lips.
“You like to read.”
“And you like to listen.”
With a purpose in her steps, she walked over to a shelf behind me, well-organized yet dusty. She pulled out a black book, the cover laced with blue. In faded white letters, it said,
Soulseers.
I knew that title.
It was the first book banned in Jeterna since the Brother came into power.
“People are afraid of knowledge.” I said, raising my eyes to hers.
“And yet when they need it, it is always there.”
“Yeah. Frozen Dreams by Carilque Shrinkiha”
“Your friends did not seem to appreciate the value of books.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“Don’t worry, dear. Even the most stubborn souls have a way of coming to see the right way, don’t they?”
Soulseers
Looking back up, she was gone. I found my way to a moldy looking table, and pulling out a weak chair, I sat down and opened the book.
With so many mystical and magical things in this world, perhaps the rarest and most beautiful things would be the Soulseers. Capable of seeing the soul in a human body, they can predict how dark or light a soul will become and can tell every truth you tell from the lies. But darkness also controls them. To see a soul means you can steal a soul. Stealing a soul means you can take on their memories, become that person, if only in mind. But every time you steal a soul, a part of your own is permanently damage–
The words were suddenly blotted out. Blinking, I turned to the next page. It was blank. I flipped through the pages, suddenly frantic, looking, but everywhere was blank. Sighing, I closed the book and stood up. Walking back over to the cart she had been standing next to when we walked in, I pulled out Little Women.
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents…”
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As Aleksandr trudged on, I glanced back at the library, and suddenly, I felt angry.
“Where are we going?”
He shrugged.
“So you just dragged us out here, separated us, and you have no actual plan?”
He shrugged again, and for some reason, this just made me even angrier.
“Why do you hate her? She never even did anything to you!”
“You don’t know anything, Alyona.” His voice was ice as he whirled around to face me, his eyes fire.
“Hey, guys?” Mikhail’s timid, scared voice was enough to make Aleksandr look at him. His face was worried and pale.
“Where’s Damien?”
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It took me 15 years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up, because by then I was too famous.
Robert Benchley
Chapter VI- Nightmares are Dreams Too
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers, I hope you enjoy Chapter 6, and if you have any comments or critiques, please feel free! Chapter 7 is coming out on July 7th!
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Dreams are lonely.
Dreams are painful.
Dreams are memories.
She was humming a song to herself as she cooked, her apron covered in flour and sauce. She smelled like jasmine.
Mother.
“Wash your hands, dear, it’s almost time to set the table!” She beamed at me.
I didn’t move. She looked just like Mother, she smelled just like her. But something was off, something was wrong.
Her smile vanished. She gently placed down the bowl and untied her apron.
She moved like lightning.
I felt a horrible sting on my cheek as my head snapped to the side.
She slapped me.
Good to see you too, Mother.
Suddenly, her delicate pale hands morphed into black claws, her face elongated and her red eyes turned black and green.
This wasn’t her. It’s a nightmare.
This is just a nightmare.
“What should we do, sisters?” This fake version of Mother had a grating voice, like the scraping of a knife on granite.
Nightmare.
It’s just a nightmare.
“I say we kill her,” another voice chimed in, excitement clear in her voice.
“No, no, no, I want to see what happens!”
“Wh-“
Nightmare.
Nightmare.
Nightmare.
“Silence!” A new voice entered the fray.
Female.
She had quick, clicking footsteps.
“Ah, ah, ah, let’s not be naughty” Her voice was amused. I wanted to gouge her eyes out with a rusted spoon.
Suddenly, she slashed at my face with her nails.
I still couldn’t see her.
My blood dripped red.
“Find him”
Her voice was a hiss now, quiet and almost indecipherable.
“Bring me back my son”
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“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, time to go.” A teasing voice jarred me to wakefulness as Alyona gave me a wink from across the room. Her eyes were tired, her hands slightly trembling. I returned her exhausted smile and her eyes brightened a bit.
“The Brother wants us gone by sundown, remember?” I faintly recalled her coming in this morning with Levka, her annoyance, his abrupt departure, his gift. I almost smiled. Until I saw the blood on the dagger Damien had given me.
Pixie blood.
Please don’t look, I silently prayed.
If she knew my secrets, she would leave me too.
If she knew how wrong I was inside, what twisted daggers lay in my heart, she would never want to see me again.
I don’t care though.
If anyone tries to hurt her, I will tear them to pieces.
I lost a lot of things after I lost my freedom.
My home.
Most of my family.
But not my strength.
I will destroy their lives bit by bit, stone by stone, until nothing was left but the bitterness of death and despair.
“Why?”
“What?” She didn’t understand the question.
I’m not sure I did either. But I couldn’t dwell in my thoughts.
They would destroy me.
“Why does the Brother hate humanity, yet create an organization filled with it?” She stilled.
We both knew of the raids, of the slaughters that occurred. One species was targeted above all though.
Humans.
Worthless lives.
People protested the killings, but they were silenced too.
Fools.
They place the ethics that they have taken unto themselves upon others so as to not disturb the senses. But to do so means they will not see the immorality or the change that is happening around them. They are blinding themselves.
They blind themselves and ask why they cannot see.
“The Brother does not want to destroy humanity himself. He wants to watch humanity destroy itself. He believes that if you put the wrong people in charge, the countries will dissolve into wars that have no meaning. People will revolt. Fighting, rebellions, murders. And when the dust settles, humanity will die. And when humanity is dead, a new world will rise from the ashes.” Her voice was quiet as she fiddled with the bag’s straps. She was repeating something, I realized.
But what?
“Without us in it.” The words were a bitter tang in my mouth.
I’m not sure if I’m human or not.
Mother told me I wasn’t.
Father told me I was.
But both are liars.
He said he’d never leave.
He left me.
She promised she’d always be there.
She left me.
They always leave.
They stole my freedom and called it hope.
I can’t leave this forsaken country.
This isn’t freedom.
This is a prison.
“Yeah. We’re useful to him now. But when we lose our usefulness, we lose our protection.” Her eyes were shadowed.
“How…pragmatic” My words were careful and slightly unsure.
She blinked, then suddenly laughed, and the tension was broken. But it still floated above our heads, the horrible truth.
We were all going to die soon.
And the clock was ticking.
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As I carried my backpack down the stairs, I heard laughter resonating through the hallway. I looked over the handrail to see Alyona hugging Mikhail as he struggled to get away, a smile on his face. Levka was also grinning, but it looked hilariously forced. Damien was leaning on a pillar, completely at ease, while Aleksandr was standing tall, watching the clouds shift outside. It was a peaceful scene. As I made my way down, Damien looked up and noticed me. Flashing me a wolfish smile, he inclined his head. I bared my teeth in return.
His eyes flashed with surprise before he snorted a laugh. Alyona turned her head and gave me a huge grin.
It hurt.
She was honest.
She was good.
She would leave me too.
They always do.
“Hey!” I ran down the remaining stairs and stopped in front of Alyona, my hair now wind-blown and messy, falling in front of my eyes. She nudged me, her face mischievous, and I turned to see Damien staring at me before realizing I saw him, suddenly turning away. My cheeks flushed and Aleksandr began glaring at me, apparently bored of the clouds.
“Come on, we need to go!” Dragging me from the room, Alyona strode with a hurried pace I began to mimic. Abruptly stopping in front of the building, she climbed into a large black monstrosity of a carriage, seeming perfectly at ease, completely at odds with the nervous woman I had seen earlier. As Damien climbed in, he slid next to me as Aleksandr, Levka, and Mikhail also found their seats. The carriage jolted as it started and I suddenly realized, I had no idea where we were going.
“Where are we heading?” I directed the question toward the carriage as a whole.
Mikhail responded.
“A city south of Fjiduna called Hirhol”
Hirhol.
Why was that familiar?
We continued in silence.
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have you born,
the Christ’s of faith?
have you see the trees of truth?
have you broken every chain,
that forbade you from hope?
find who you are,
find in yourself,
the courage to continue,
the courage of faith,
the courage to believe.
Songs of The Believers
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I woke up to the carriage’s abrupt halt, jolting us all awake. I opened my eyes to find I was resting on someone’s shoulder. I looked up to see Damien slowly straightening as he began to yawn. I then looked over at Alyona, who was now pretending to faint, then wake up and place her hands on her heart.
I began contemplating where to place her grave.
“What the hell is going on?” Levka’s irritated voice broke through the silence as he opened the carriage door to find heavy snow.
“Hey!” He was leaning out the door to face the driver. His sudden swear was enough to get us all on edge.
“What the-!”
“Will you just tell us what’s going on?” Alyona broke in.
He leaned back in and slumped into his seat.
“The driver’s gone, and we have a broken wheel.”
There was complete quiet.
“Don’t we have a replacement?” Mikhail sounded almost timid, obviously unsure.
“No, we don’t,” Aleksandr rumbled, his deep voice quiet.
“The driver is supposed to be skilled enough that we don’t need one.”
“So we have to walk?” I interjected, suddenly worried.
“Obviously,” he sneered.
Oh my God.
____________________________________
As we climbed out of the carriage, Alyona saw Damien get out before me. She had a strange glint in her eyes that made me wearily suspicious.
“What are you-“
Suddenly, she shoved me out of the carriage, and I was falling,
falling,
falling,
until two arms encircled me and held me up. I looked up to see the raised eyebrows and beautiful chocolate-gold eyes of Damien Gray.
Cheeks flushing, I pushed away, and he opened his arms wide to help me. I turned and gave Alyona my worst glare.
She gave me an angelic smile in return.
Shouldering my pack, I began to follow Aleksandr as the snow raged around us.
Each step was a monumental effort of the worst kind, but Mikhail had it worse. With his books piled on him, he had to be struggling.
Don’t do it.
Don’t you-
Oh, whatever.
Doubling back, I grabbed some books from Mikhail and kept walking. He gave me a grateful look as we continued forward, but neither of us wasted our breath for thanks.
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We finally stopped when we realized the sun was setting, knowing we couldn’t continue like this for much longer, and that we needed rest. As I sat down on a frost-covered log, I shivered from the horrible cold. I felt a sudden warmth cover my shoulders and I looked down to see a large jacket covering me, and Damien sitting down next to me, his arms now bare as he stared at the sunset, resting his forearms on his knees and frowning slightly. Alyona wasn’t even doing anything I realized, but just staring in shock, before giving me two thumbs up and a wink.
Dear God, she just couldn’t be subtle, could she?
Aleksandr glanced at the jacket around my shoulders, his peaceful expression shifting to one of disgust and a slight rage. He probably wanted me to die of hypothermia. He turned back to the large pile of sticks he had gathered, and pulling out a match from his jeans pocket, struck it, and dropped it into the pile, starting a fire. I stared at the flames and remembered telling my mother of a dream I had. I was 7, and the girls in my class talked about how much fun it was, camping with your parents. You played and told stories, and ate marshmallows and candy.
To a 7-year-old, that was heaven.
I’d wanted to go camping with her and Dad, and in the dream, I’d done it. Mom was smiling and eating and she tucked me in at night after telling me a scary story beneath the stars. But when I told her about my dream, she laughed.
“I’m sure it was a beautiful dream, dear. But I think you forgot something.”
“What?” I was so confused, so stupidly naïve.
Her smile was soft with a serrated edge.
“You forgot that nightmares are dreams too”
I bit my lip, hard, as I tried to focus on where I was, where I am.
I tasted blood.
“Hey.” The voice was soft, and a hand reached over to wipe my cheek.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
“Hey,” Damien’s voice was quiet so that only I could hear him. He gently cupped my chin -a mockery of when he had roughly grabbed it only a few days prior- and made me look into the sky.
My breath caught.
There were millions of stars, each one sparkling in the icy beauty of the north.
They weren’t overly flashy, but their beauty was a sort of grace humanity had lost long ago. I leaned into Damien as I watched the stars till my eyes drifted shut and I prayed for a dreamless sleep.
After all, nightmares are dreams too.
_________________________________________
Despite the exposure to the cold, my arms felt warm wrapped around Maria. What was she crying about? What plagued her so much that she didn’t even realize she was crying until I wiped her tears?
Mateo would have known.
I will get him back.
But I had never felt so dirty then now, as I realized that to save him, everyone here would die.
The foul-mouthed sharpshooter.
The shy bookworm of an alchemist.
The strangely obvious healer.
And the loyal Aleksandr.
But Maria.
To save Mateo, she would have to die.
I have never felt so disgustingly dirty than now, as I stared up to the sky she had so reverently gazed at only minutes before.
I was trapped in a nightmare.
A nightmare of my own creation.
And my back bowed as I let the silent tears flow and fall to the pure snow-covered ground, each one a silent apology.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
______________________________
I woke up to find my head in Damien’s lap as he gently ran a finger through my hair, shaking it slightly, trying to wake me up. I sat up and gave him an embarrassed smile as I shrugged off his jacket and gave it back.
“Thank you,”
“No problem” He easily slung it back on as he stood up and stretched, his eyes suspiciously red, like he hadn’t been sleeping.
Did Sariati even need sleep?
“We have to keep going” Aleksandr announced, his voice efficient and as icy as the snow around us.
“Someone wake up Alyona”
I turned and stifled a laugh.
Alyona was lying face down on the ground atop a blanket she somehow had fit into her pack, and she had her arms splayed around her like she was trying to hug the world as one leg seemed to be mid-kick, the other one facing the opposite direction.
“How the hell is that comfortable?” Levka wondered out loud.
Striding over, I pulled out my notebook and rolled it up.
Placing it next to her ear, I yelled,
“WAKE! UP!!!”
Catapulting backward, Alyona somehow landed on her feet and had my arm behind my back and the other pushed upward, one shove from being dislocated. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and I burst out laughing. She blinked and shoved me away, grumbling as she collapsed back onto her blanket.
“It’s time to go,” Aleksandr told her, his voice softer than before.
“No”
“Its morn-“
“No”
“We have to g-“
“No”
I felt like I was suffocating from the mere effort of not laughing.
Walking over, I whispered in her ear,
“If you don’t get up, I’m telling Levka about your stuffed animal, Mrs. Purrikins.”
She looked me dead in the eye.
“You wouldn’t”
“Try me”
She groaned as she sat up, her back cracking, as she began folding her blanket, sending me rebellious looks every few seconds.
I repressed a smile.
Oh yeah, this is going to be fun.
++++++++++
“Halloween is the beginning of the holiday shopping season. That’s for women. The beginning of the holiday shopping season for men is Christmas Eve.”
—David Letterman
Chapter V- In Every Wish, A Prayer
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers, I hope you enjoy Chapter V and please like and subscribe! This chapter is a bit different, because I wrote this one with flashes from the other characters’ points of view, beginning with Annamaria and shifting to the other characters. I always welcome helpful critiques, and any constructive criticisms are also great! Enjoy!
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“Every person has a story, something that made them who they are. I am not rare, nor different, or especially unique. Rather, I am a normal girl. A girl who has two brothers. A girl who has both her parents, a girl who cares for everyone she meets. But there is a passage I will always remember, no matter where I am, and who I become.” I read aloud in the dim candlelit room, the shadows pooling and dripping gently on the books, each one seeming to bleed its hidden story.
Every hidden lie.
“To break is to shatter. To shatter is to cut. To cut is to kill. Break me, you die, heal me, love me, you create me.” My hands began to tremble.
“I will always love, and I will always wait. I will be what I wish the world was, and I will be the good I pray to see. Always.
Always.
Always.” I closed the book as I blew out the candle and fell back, into my pillow, and into the realm of sleep. But the words still echoed.
I will be what I wish I could see.
I will love.
I will pray.
I will heal.
________________
I paced the length of the room, blowing out a breath as I ran my hand through my chocolate hair. He had laughed while he called it beautiful.
Forget,
Forget,
Forget,
My back was burning, the scar he had given me old, yet flaming nonetheless.
Forget,
Forget,
Forget.
He wants me to forgive him, he wants me to come back, his pleading eyes so much like mine.
Forget,
Forget
Forget.
I was a liar. I was a liar. Alyona, Alyona, Alyona.
Lie,
Lie,
Lie.
My name is Alyona.
Liar,
Liar,
Liar.
This is all his fault.
All his fault.
Forget,
Forget,
Forget.
She had smiled, listened, hugged me, and cared when no one else had. She was hiding secrets too. Like me,
me,
me.
She had red eyes, and black hair, like
her,
her,
her.
If she knew my secret, she would never forgive me.
I never wanted this. I was a child then. I had no choice. She had to understand.
She had to.
My breath became labored.
Forgive,
Forgive,
Forgive.
____________________
I knew want they thought when they looked at me. They thought I was a traitor. Levka, the boy who had stolen food before he learned to read. The boy who joked and lied to cover every break in his façade. The boy who was too broken to ever let anyone care about him without hurting them.
He hurt her.
Because he was too broken.
She was on fire and I was a shadow. The only thing that could never touch the fire, never burn in the flames. But I was burning.
Burning every day.
I needed her fire.
I was so cold.
So cold.
I took a shuddering breath as I pushed the door open and walked into the hallway, my room looking more and more like a sanctuary the further I went. The Brother wanted me to wake Annamaria, and I gave a small smirk when I thought about how mad she would be. Making her angry was just so fun. But I stilled when I saw who was pacing in front of Annamaria’s door. She reached out a hand as though to open it before pulling it back and pacing again.
I swallowed hard.
Alyona.
Fire.
I strode forward, my steps resounding like thunder in the quiet hallway, and her head whirled, only to see me, her hard brown eyes widening a fraction before narrowing.
“Levka” She spat my name like it was a curse. To her, it probably was.
She hated me. And for good reason. She had wanted to be my friend, had treated me like an equal when no one else would, and the first chance I had, I stabbed her in the back. I was the shadow, and she was the flame. But I suffocated her.
She hates me.
And it’s all my fault.
“The Brother asked me to wake Annamaria, it’s time for us to go.” I made my voice sharp.
I saw her eyes flash again, this time with hurt, before they became emotionless, beautiful chocolate.
She hates me.
And I have to let her.
Because I never deserved her anyway.
________________
I almost flinched at the harshness of Levka’s voice, so much like his.
Forget,
Forget,
Forget.
“Well then knock on the door already” I spat back, wanting him to hurt like he hurt me.
But he didn’t even blink.
I had cared for him, loved him like a brother, and all he did was hurt,
hurt,
hurt,
just like him,
him,
him.
Forget,
Forget,
Forget.
“I thought you were.” His voice was dry and my cheeks flushed. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, shoving open the door and storming in. She was turned on her side, a book tucked under one arm, her face peaceful. I gently shook her arm and her eyes drifted open, revealing a warm scarlet red. She gave me a sleepy smile as she sat up and stretched.
“Wuz goin’ on?” Maria yawned, her arm over her mouth.
“Conan the Barbarian is under orders to bring you to the Brother”
I heard a throat clear in the hallway.
“Fine, he’s only going to tell you to get ready, we’re leaving” I amended.
But that was as far as I was willing to go.
“Doesn’t seem like a barbarian, he’s still waiting in the hall, in case I wasn’t decent” she observed, more awake now, her eyes already scanning her surroundings.
I scowled.
“Oh, all right, you can come in now” I called. Levka came swaggering in, and he gave Annamaria a smile.
“How late do you sleep?”
“Till one, like a civilized human,” she said, smiling back. My chest tightened for some reason. Perhaps the air quality wasn’t good.
He nudged his head toward the closet.
“You better get packing. Anymore waiting and the Brother might just kick you out.”
Annamaria snorted.
“I’m not that lucky.”
Levka stared at her for a minute, and then turned and walked away, his steps echoing in the quiet of dawn.
I turned abruptly and began rifling through her closet. I felt stupid. Stupid for the green-eyed monster in me. I wished I could warn her.
Wish,
wish,
wish.
But when has wishing ever given me anything but
pain,
pain,
pain.
I pulled out the black corsets Maria had picked up and turned to find her standing right behind me, our noses nearly colliding. I reared back and Maria gave me a half smile.
“I don’t have a bag.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I have one” I heard Levka call back from the hallway.
I pinched my lips in disgust as Maria gave me another half-smile and opened the door again for Levka, who handed her a bag that I was sure he had probably stolen from someone. She then shooed him off so she could change and I cracked a smile at that. The shocked look on his face was enough to make my day that much better.
She grabbed some clothes and ducked into the closet as I continued talking to her through the closed door.
“Remember, pack the essentials. Knives, daggers, first aid, and the like.”
I turned and walked out the door to go pack my own bag, the stairs looming.
I could hear her laughter all the way back
down,
down,
down.
___________________
I was twitching as I walked back to the library, my arms full of books. I needed to figure out which one to bring.
“Mikhail!” a booming voice behind me said, and I jumped. Mikhail. Yes. Me.
Mikhail.
Yes.
Me.
Right.
Right.
Right.
I turned and it was Levka, his broad smile, and sparkling eyes putting me at ease.
It wasn’t him.
“Levka,” I greeted my old friend as he clapped me on the back and my books nearly toppled out of my arms. He laughed again and picked up about half the books as we walked into the library together, my steps easier and lighter now.
Yes.
Friend.
Yes.
Friend.
“What are you doing with all these books anyway?” He asked, seeming to weigh the books in his arms. I grinned.
“I’m choosing which one to bring.”
He gave me a startled look, then began laughing again.
“Narrow it down, buddy,” He said.
“Wish I could help. Have to pack my own bag, and two girls just shooed me out of a room because one of them hates my guts.” He grimaced and I chuckled.
Friend.
Friend.
Friend.
“They are girls, what do you expect?” I asked, and he grinned again. He put down the books on a wooden table and I dumped mine too.
“See you Mikhail. And please, don’t bring everything, my back won’t survive.” He gave me a fake pleading look.
I smiled.
“I won’t.”
He knew I was lying.
He laughed as he left, whistling an off-key tune.
My smile faded.
Friend.
Gone.
Friend.
Gone.
Friend.
Gone.
_______________________________
I watched them move about, running like hamsters in a cage.
Levka, the broken traitor in the making.
Alyona, the fiery, shattered healer.
Mikhail, the terrified alchemist.
And Annamaria.
Who has a power that could bring the world to its knees.
I felt its claw drag down my mind and I shuddered.
“Let it burn. Break it.” It whispered.
“Build it again”
“Build it better”
I stood suddenly, my chair toppling over.
A knock at the door opened to reveal a frightened servant. He bowed and quickly handed me a message.
“For you, Brother.”
He turned and scurried away.
I rolled my neck, the cracks ominous in the quiet. I unrolled the scroll and my eyes widened. Inside of me, he laughed. I felt sick.
For her.
I do this for her.
I closed my eyes.
“I do this for you” I whispered, praying somehow she could hear me.
Somehow she would understand.
I’m going to break the world.
And she will never forgive me.
It doesn’t matter, though. No matter what, she will be mine.
I will take her delicate, free soul and trap it in a beautiful cage of gold and deception. She will not be able to tell what is real and what is not. She will never see the truth.
But this is all for her.
Always.
++++++++++++
Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry. Why should that mean it’s not real?
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore [Deathly Hallows by J.K Rowling]
Humanity’s Poetry
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers, I hope you enjoy these poems! I’m a writer and a budding poet, so I’m still learning the ropes! This is my attempt to capture human emotion and feeling with poetry, so, hope you enjoy and please like and subscribe!
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#1- Invincible We Are
Invincible we seem,
Stranger yet is the mind,
we value success,
and hide our faults,
invincible we are.
We’re taught to hide our grief and pain,
yet show our anger and our hate,
invincible we are.
We love each other,
yet all for one is what we say,
invincible we are.
We are not special we like to say,
we are unique we like to say,
we are human,
our final truth,
invincible we are.
And when we cry,
we brush our eyes,
embarrassed of an emotion,
invincible we are.
We scream,
we hate,
we laugh,
we challenge fate,
We’re strange beings,
I know it to be true.
We’re one for all,
we’re all for one,
Invincible we are.
#2- Immortality
Life once lived,
is a beginning to the end.
Life and Death,
twin souls.
We die,
we live,
yet fear hath no place among the dead,
for only those alive may feel terror,
for only those dead can feel the threads that connect all.
Dead,
alive,
broken,
whole.
Death and Life,
twin souls,
two sides,
to one coin.
One hate,
one hope.
Death,
is never to be feared,
for death,
is not the end,
but a whole new beginning.
#3- Sunlight
The sunlight hits upon your face,
an everlasting constant.
In a world of turmoil,
the sunlight hits upon your face,
in a world created for all.
#4- To Understand Nothing, To Understand Everything
What can I understand,
that you cannot?
Is it just a matter of circumstance,
a dancing, deadly,
yet adventurous game of chance?
What can I grasp that you cannot,
what makes us so different,
yet the same?
Broken,
and whole,
all at once?
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Thanks for reading my post on my Poetry and please like and subscribe!
Chapter IV- A Demon in Human Skin
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers, please enjoy Chapter IV-Demon in Human Skin, and please like and subscribe!
________________________
I didn’t know exactly when they left. Maybe it was when the sun started to fall again, the days each passing by like a blur here. Perhaps it was when I heard a rough Jeternin voice behind me, Damien’s arms lifting from my shoulders as he walked away. Alyona stayed with me though, and when the tears finally ended, we sat down and watched the sunrise together, two sisters, about to start a brand new day.
I leaned my head on Alyona’s shoulders and she leaned her head down on mine, just like I had seen my sisters do so long ago with each other, their love evident.
But never with me.
Never me.
My throat began to burn, acid climbing up.
There was a rough cough from behind us and we jolted, turning to see who had interrupted us. My eye twitched when I saw who. Aleksandr Volkov. His face was blank when he looked at us, but there was a rage in his eyes that I didn’t understand. Nor did I care. My back still stung from his brand. The one that was never supposed to be there. I turned back towards the sunrise as Alyona stood and barked at him, her voice biting.
“What do you want, Volkov?”
He gave a long-suffering sigh, so patronizing even I bristled. Alyona stiffened like a wooden babushka doll, and her eyes became nothing but slits. I cocked my head to the side to witness this battle of wills.
“The Brother would like to see her, Alyona.”
The same summoning as before. He then added, his face turned to Alyona but the fire in his deep blue eyes obviously meant for me,
“Alone.”
____________
This time, rather than the throne room, they guided me to a chamber as opulent as the throne room but covered in maps and bookshelves stacked high with titles I knew to be banned.
Typical.
The Brother was standing in the middle of the room, Aleksandr and Damien on both of his sides and two other men I didn’t know standing on the other side of the table.
“Ms. Lopez, how kind of you to join us.” His voice was saccharin, and I itched to hit him.
“They say good things take time,” I said.
Shut up,
Shut up,
Shut up.
He raised a pencil-perfect eyebrow.
“And that matters..?’
Don’t you dare say it,
Don’t you dare say it,
Don’t you dare.
“It’s why I’m late, I’m literally perfect.”
I heard a snort at the table and Damien hurrying to cover it with a cough.
I straightened my back and walked over to the table. On it was a large map showing every country. Jeterna to the north, Enamani to the east, Rterna to the south, and Fjiduna to the west. There were many more illustrated on the map, each different country in some way connected. But these countries were highlighted, their size exaggerated.
“Ms. Lopez, do you have any knowledge of geography?”
My cheeks flushed and I gave a curt nod. My hands were linked behind my back but now they were curled into fists. He thought me an idiot. He was humiliating me by trying to degrade me, make me out as a fool.
“Whatever mapmaker you have has no knowledge of proportion. Enami, Jeterna, Rterna, and Fjiduna are not nearly so large.”
If looks could kill, Aleksandr’s eyes could have buried me six feet deep and still had time to dance on my grave. When I caught his eye, he rolled them at me.
I snapped.
“Why in the world are you rolling your eyes? Are you looking for a brain?” I sighed,
“I’m afraid it does seem rather hollow in there,” My face was sympathetic, puckering my lips and turning my head to the side in an attempt to look like I marginally cared the least about him.
Damien looked like he was trying not to laugh.
The Brothers’ eyebrow was faintly raised. I took the moment to finally examine him. His features were all hard angles and sharp edges, his eyebrows a jet black, hair still covered by his hood. His eyes were such a deep blue they looked almost black, the color blending with the pupils giving you the unsettling feeling that he could stare into your soul, see your darkest secret, and still not be impressed.
‘That’s not far off,’ I thought wryly.
“Ms. Lopez when I want your opinion, I will ask. Until then, only answer the questions I say. Understood”
My lips pressed together into a hard line and my eye twitched. He saw this and gave a small smile, yet it was gone so quickly, I wondered if I had imagined it. But Damien’s shocked expression and Aleksandr’s hard face told me I hadn’t.
Actually, only Damien’s face told me. Aleksandr always looked like that around me.
I laughed softly at my joke, too loudly. They all turned to look at me, and I flushed again when the Brother angled his head as I flusteredly sat down.
“Did you know the crown prince of Rterna has gone missing?”
I nodded. I’d heard the gossip of customers as they came in and out of the shop, speaking either of poor Prince Faraj, or cursing his name for abandoning his duties.
“Good. That saves me some time. A few days ago, I received a letter from the royal Tamil family. They need outside forces involved in retrieving their son.” His eyes burned holes in my face, my cheeks growing redder with each second of breathless silence.
“I had at first no care for helping them. After all, how would it help us at all? It would cost us resources, time, and men that I honestly have no wish to spare. Until I got another letter as of yesterday. This one offers us a reward for his capture. 190,000,000 Turninli. I have received word that the king is nearing the end of his life and he wishes to see his son one last time. They need the crown prince back, as they only have the daughter as of now, and she has no intention of marrying.”
One of the men swore, a word so foul I gave a soft wince. Aleksandr’s eyes widened slightly while Damien’s face went through five stages of shock. None of us cared about the royal family, one glance around the room told me that. It took a moment for the number to set in. That much money may have been enough to empty a smaller county’s coffers. It would be enough to shove Jeterna out of its economic fall over the past few decades. This money could literally save a country.
“The king has received our letter of acceptance and you will find the lost prince. If the king dies before we find him, it will send Rterna into turmoil and we will lose all trade negotiations within the country, as the Queen is practically useless on her own. After all, what is a queen without her king?” The Brother’s lips were curled in disgust and I smiled quietly.
There was a deafening silence.
“You will find Faraj Tamil, and you will bring him back. I don’t care whether he offers you money or prestige. If you try to save him, you will find that the Ten Skulls are not so forgiving.” The Brother’s voice was an attempt at seriousness, but when I looked up, I saw his lips twitch, and I heard the amusement in his voice.
I saw even Aleksandr frown slightly at the harshness of the wording, and if there was one thing I had learned about the dark-eyed man, it was that he was loyal to a fault.
“Damien, Aleksandr, Levka, Mikhail, and Annamaria, you will work together and you will find the lost prince.” The way he said it left no room for argument and made sure it wasn’t a question.
“You’ll leave for Fjiduna by sunrise tomorrow.”
“Annamaria, do tell Alyona she is to accompany you as your healer for this mission.”
The way he said my name… like he knew it well, had said it a hundred times in a hundred different ways… Why?
He locked eyes with all of us as he strode to open the door and unlocked it,
“I would suggest you don’t disappoint me”
____________________
Alyona was waiting outside the door, her face pinched as she paced. When she heard the doors open, her head jerked up and she gave me a broad smile. The door creaked again, and she looked up and saw Levka, her face sliding from happy to almost awestruck. Levka avoided her gaze and walked down the hallway, his cheeks slightly pink as he rushed away.
I winced at the wounded look that flashed across Alyona’s face before she was dragging me away.
I turned and caught one last look before we lost sight of them in the winding halls. Damien was leaning on a pillar near the door his eyes dark and his expression one of distaste. Aleksandr was standing ramrod straight next to him, both speaking in low tones. Mikhail left the room with the Brother, neither of their lips moving. I turned a corner, and then they were gone.
I glanced at the back of Alyona’s head.
“Where are we going?”
“Your room, obviously” Alyona looked at me again and her brown eyes were cheerful, if not a bit too bright. She was hurt, but that wasn’t what I was so surprised about. It was almost like we were…friends. I had never had one before.
Mother never let me.
I shivered as we made our way to my apparent “room” There were a lot of things Mother never let me do. And there were some things I had to do.
We stopped outside a door that was almost unnoticeable, small, and dark. We opened the door and my jaw dropped. Stacks of books, piles everywhere. There was Little Women, Dracula, and A Tale of Two Cities. I laughed as the sunlight streamed in through the two windows and I ran and threw myself on the bed, clutching all the books I could. It was a heaven. Who had chosen this room, who had filled it with books? Damien? Alyona? When I sat up, I began stacking books next to my bed while Alyona went through the closet, wincing at each unfashionably ancient dress.
“Ugh, who filled this closet, a barbarian? We’re going shopping.” The pure disgust on her face as she glared at the closet had me laughing.
“Oh you won’t be laughing in a minute” She said, grinning suddenly.
Turning, she shrieked,
“LEVKA!”
Alyona grabbed me and dragged me off the bed to the door. What’s Levka got to do with anything?
_______________________
Levka was the one who made sure no one “wandered off”, apparently. Poor guy was taking a severe tongue-lashing from Alyona.
But then I remembered her face in the hallway. The small wince of pain as he ignored her.
Suddenly, I was glad Alyona had the sharpest voice of anyone I’ve ever met.
We got into a gray carriage, Levka leaning out the window to say something to the driver. I despised these carriages, much preferring the newer invention, the motorcycle, over this old-fashioned contraption. We jolted to a start, throwing me against Levka as he climbed back in. He began to laugh and gently placed me back on my chair, my face bright red.
“I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, but never literally.”
A small smile flashed across my face. But one look at Alyona’s face had my smile dying on the spot. I looked closer at Levka. Was he really so oblivious? But he was now looking out the window and didn’t seem to notice us at all.
He finally noticed my staring, gave me a grin, and pulled a bracelet out of his weathered bag. I stared at it, confused.
I reached over and took it, my hands closing over the rough surface. I turned it inside out and froze. A name was engraved on the inside.
This was her bracelet.
This was hers.
“The Brother asked me to give it to you since I’m the one watching you.”
I scowled.
“I’m not a dog to be watched.”
“No, you’re a teenage girl with some really bad luck,” he said with a wink.
“And you’re a teenage boy with a bad sense of humor and an ugly pack,” I fired off.
He stared at me for a moment, and I had the sudden feeling no one ever actually talked back to him.
No wonder he had such a fat head.
I was not in the mood for a joker as I shoved the bracelet into my pocket, unsure whether to throw it away or slip it on my wrist and never take it off.
He finally smiled.
“Actually, I’m 20”
“And actually, I’m 18”
He chuckled before turning his head to look out the window again, his smile fading just like the sun that was fading in the constant cloudy skies of Jeterna.
____________________________________________________________
We stopped in front of a mall, our carriage looking outdated compared to the cars and motorbikes of everyone else. My face flushed pink as I rushed out, followed by Alyona and Levka. Levka seemed to silence all gossip, his joking smile gone replaced by a hard look that he seemed content at aiming at anyone stupid enough to look at us for longer than a passing glance.
When we walked inside, I was in awe of everything. There were perfumes, dresses, leggings, and trousers. Alyona grabbed my arm and dragged me inside one of the stores to the right, with mannequins dressed in black. Levka gave a small groan that made me giggle as we walked inside, Levka’s feet dragging like he wanted to be anywhere but here. A small, ferrety-looking man was standing behind the cashier, his small body hunched over. He was a very twitchy man, with oily gray hair and bony, rough-looking hands.
“Msss. Morozov! How nice to sssee you again” His voice was as oily as his hair, his tongue stretching out each s to an unnatural length. His rheumy green eyes stared at Alyona greedily. I felt rather than saw Levka move closer when the man took a step back and muttered something about checking the storeroom. He rushed into the back when Alyona whirled around to glare at Levka, her eyes shooting daggers.
“Stop trying to scare away everyone who I need to talk to you big brute!”
“Why the hell would you want to talk to him?”
I drifted away from the arguing couple as I began to look around, absentmindedly brushing my hands across all the fabrics until something made me pause. A beautiful black corset, tight and strong.
It was just like hers.
I marveled at the feel of the fabric, silky and smooth, but when I tugged at it, strong as steel. I pulled it off the rack along with a pair of tight leggings. I disappeared into the dressing room as Levka and Alyona continued to argue behind me, their voices getting louder as Levka got more irritated and Alyona more infuriated. I unlaced my dress and watched it pool at my feet. I turned to see my back in the mirror and saw the wineglass dripping venom as the snake seemed to slither across my back, almost like it was alive. I hurriedly laced the corset and shoved on the leggings. When I turned to see myself in the mirror, I stood still as I gazed at myself. I reached out tentatively and touched my hand to its reflection. I looked like her.
I looked like her.
I loved it.
I changed back quickly before rushing back to those racks and picking up different corsets, each one made with a new design that was beautiful and strong.
Alyona and Levka seemed to have finally tired of their ridiculous argument and were now looking for me. Alyona saw what I was piling up on my arms and looked from the black corsets to my white dress and gave a smile.
“I knew you were like us”
I graced her with a smile as crooked as her own as I continued to pile the clothes onto my increasingly heavy basket, which I had found lying next to a mannequin in ugly neon orange. I finally walked over to the cashier where Levka was leaning against the counter, looking supremely bored, much to Alyona’s consternation. The twitchy little man finally came back out and gave a squeal when he saw the pile of clothes I put on the counter. Levka clenched his hands into fists, I noticed, as Alyona and I paid and she smiled at the weaselly man. And when he picked up the bags, he walked stiffly, like he itched to hit someone.
My eyes gleamed.
________________________________
I couldn’t breathe. The room was closing in on me. I hated the boy looking back at me from the mirror, hated his gold eyes, hated his black hair. I hated Damien Gray. The letter was crumpled on the floor as I slid to the ground, my breath coming out in short bursts. Annamaria Lopez. I hated her. If she had never come, never shaken my world with one mischievous glance of those deep red eyes, then everything would be okay. Everything would have been okay. I couldn’t get her laughter out of my head, the strong grip of her arms on mine, the fiery warmth of her body. I couldn’t get her tears, her sobs out of my mind. I felt so helpless. Mateo would have known what to do. I put my head between my knees as I began to shake. My better half, my twin. And now he was gone and it was all my fault. Mateo would never have let me get kidnapped, get hurt, and cowered. Mateo would have felt guilt after his first kill, repulsion.
“It felt good…really good, like-“
“Meeting an old friend”
Her soft confession, the guilt in her beautiful red eyes had been my undoing. I shouldn’t have shown her the pixies, shouldn’t have let her kill one. But I needed to know if what she said was true, I needed to know if I was the only true monster. But I’m not.
Could I really destroy the only person in the world even a little bit like me?
I reeled back at my own thoughts.
No.
No.
The king wants her. The king wants Death’s messenger. And I will deliver.
I rose and reached over the broken glass that littered my floor, scraping my knees and tearing my jeans. Blood stained the floor. But it wasn’t scarlet.
It was black.
As black as death.
I was trapped. I was trapped in this cage of a murderer, a thief, a scoundrel. a man with no honor left in whatever scraps of a soul he had. I grabbed my bottle, my own poison and I began to drink as black poured from my body like the shadows I wished would pour out too. Because I knew, if I could cut my own skin, and let the shadows and memories pour out, I would.
Even if the skin I needed to cut was my own heart.
Annamaria Lopez has to die. And the bottle shattered in my hands, staining my skin the color of all the blood I’d spilled to get here, to this point. The point where everything else has led…
All the way to hell.
___________________________________________
When the carriage finally stopped, me and Alyona stepped out followed by Levka, piled high with bags upon bags of my new clothes. Alyona had offered to pay but I refused. What’s the point of having a rich family if you can’t spend all of their money any way you can?
We ran up the stairs, giggling like young girls of 13. I practically glowed as we raced to my room, Levka groaning behind us with the weight of all my new clothes. I would have felt bad for him, but I still remembered Alyona’s face when he was leaving the meeting. Then, I felt much better. We collapsed on my bed, laughing like loons, my father would say. Levka walked in, dropped the bags, and promptly walked out, grumbling about girls and clothes, and fools. Alyona and I locked eyes again and began a fresh round of giggles.
My laughter began to fade when I saw a white envelope on my dark bedside table. I sat up warily and reached for it, Alyona watching me, her eyes following the path of my hand. I grabbed the envelope and opened it carefully. I turned it upside down and out fell a small, folded letter. I opened it carefully, my hands trembling. This felt too much like… It wasn’t…
I took a deep breath and began to read.
________________
“Ms. Lopez and Ms. Morozov,
In all my years, I have yet to see someone perform a job that requires such effort out of even loyalty, much less fear. Therefore, I have taken the liberty to offer you a fraction of the money.
1,000,000 Turninli
This is a generous offer and if it is not accepted, there will be no others. There was a very famous quote, Ms. Lopez, I do hope you will remember.
“There are the people who hold, who strengthen over time, and there are those who shatter. Shatter and break apart.
Be the one who will not break”
Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Lopez, and Ms. Morozov.
Sincerely,
Nirsj Viskani “
____________
I rescanned the letter, trying to find some trick, some condition. The letter itself was written in heavy, masculine scrawl. But there was no sign of anything other than what was plainly written.
“Nirsj Viskani?” I said, taking a chance on the hope Alyona would know the name.
“The Brother.”
Alyona’s voice was quiet, her soft eyes wide.
“That’s his name. But no one is allowed to call him that. And he never signs his real name” She gave me an odd look.
“You really are special aren’t you?” Her face suddenly split into a wide grin.
The room was deafeningly silent. The message was so short but so essential. That kind of money…. with that kind of haul, I could move back to Enamani, find him, get my life back. Even just half of that money could change everything. Alyona was still smiling at me with a sly expression.
“Let’s try on some clothes”
________________
My face was sore, my lips cracking from all the smiling. I felt like I was overflowing, with yellow, and red, and gold. With ecstasy, and anger, with joy and fear.
I didn’t know why I was angry.
But I knew why I was scared.
I was always scared. I was always scared since she had burned me, burned me to try to burn it out of me, the thing everyone wanted. The more I screamed, the harder she shoved. Her hands burned too, along with me. I wonder if that’s what hurt most. Because she almost killed me… out of love.
My smile faded and my breathing became labored.
18 dresses.
3 jumpsuits.
4 walls.
Everything was swirling, everything was just like she said.
I hate you, mother.
I love you, mother.
I wish I understood you mother.
I hope I never understand you mother.
I love you,
I despise you,
I wish I could see you again,
I’m glad you died,
I miss you.
“Everything has an explanation, dear” She had whispered, tucking me in.
My skin was raw, and it was blackened. But I was alive. And that was terrifying for her.
Somehow, I was alive.
It was a miracle.
And nothing frightens people more,
than a miracle.
“You just have to find it”
__________________
Alyona looked over, her smile fading. She looked away quickly, picking up a dress and twisting it in her hands.
“You know… I’ve never seen Damien look happy before. But when he looks at you, he looks almost…content.”
I stared at her, startled for a moment, before rasping a hoarse laugh. As if. But the ludicrous statement, the ridiculousness of it, was enough to snap me back to reality.
“I haven’t known you long, but what about Levka then?”
She flinched at his name and I grinned.
Jackpot.
She tried to glare at me, but broke into giggles, and soon, I joined her. Suddenly, spontaneously, we were just laughing, about boys, about money, and about everything.
Just us.
And everything, for that minute, felt perfect.
______________________
I flexed my hand, the paleness startling next to the blackness of the cloak. It was slender and long and
not mine.
“Your name is Nirsj” I whispered, my voice echoing in the darkness. I couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now. Not when everything was so close. I will do whatever it takes to build this for her. I have journeyed through hell and suffered the fires and I would do it a thousand times over for her,
her,
her.
I felt the fire claw me on the inside, tearing me apart and burning me. I forced the pain at bay, the demon that lurked inside me. I will create a new world. One where she is safe. One where Annamaria Lopez is safe,
safe,
safe.
She can think me a monster as much as she wants, but she will be mine.
Hearing her today, seeing her raise her eyebrows and glare at me, knowing she did not even recognize me, almost broke me. She was so close, I could smell her cinnamon-pumpkin scent.
But so, so far.
I tilted the photo on my bedside table as I pulled off the cloak and fell into bed. I turned and looked at it, a woman with startling red eyes, raven black hair, and a face like an angel’s. A woman with a sarcastic, sharp tongue, and a soul full of strange and magical things. Her lips were curled into a smile, her eyes brimming and overflowing with all the secrets that hid within. I will enjoy finding out every secret in those red seas, and then, when she is finally broken, she will finally see it is only me that can heal her.
Only ever me.
“Goodnight, my love,” I murmured as I drifted into the darkness and flames.
Sleep well, my beauty.
Sleep well.
____________________
I hope you enjoyed Chapter IV- A Demon in Human Skin, and be prepared for Chapter V on May 30th! Please like and subscribe!
Some make people happy wherever they go. Others, whenever they go.
Oscar Wilde
Chapter III- Faith, Trust, and Pixie Blood
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers, thanks again for visiting my blog and please enjoy Chapter 3! If you have any comments, critiques, or opinions on my writing, feel free to comment below!
_____________________________
I followed Alyona out of the room a few moments later, her steps rigid and controlled. Sariati. Sariati. I was partnered with a Sariati. I closed my eyes for a minute as I walked through the halls that seemed to grow darker with each passing moment.
No,
No,
No.
Not after what they did. Not after what they did.
They made me watch.
No,
No,
No.
“Where are we going?” I asked, needing to hear someone, to feel like I wasn’t living in this nightmare, like I was alive.
She didn’t say a word.
________________________
We wound through the many hallways, some looking as large and beautiful as a cathedral, others, like they belonged to a different building. Finally, she stopped. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were a bit too bright and her body too straight. She looked…
Guilty.
I heard the soft tread of footsteps behind me before I felt a strong pressure on my back as I was shoved into the room and heard the door closed with a clang. I heard the soft sound of a key being locked, and I knew then I was trapped.
“Help! Someone help!” I banged on the door, my voice panicked.
I can’t be trapped.
Not again,
Not again,
Not again.
“Oh stop your hysterics,” A male voice behind me said in disgust. I stiffened, before turning and seeing…
Him.
Damien Gray.
“Why-” How dare he?
How dare he?
“Stop it. Just stop.” He looked so irritated that I shut my mouth and glared silently.
“You’re acting overly dramatic, and it’s getting on my nerves. I didn’t bring you here to kill you after all”
I felt my body begin to relax. It was instinct. I knew couldn’t trust him. He was the kind of man that gave you the scars you hide during the day and weep over at night. He was the kind of man that gave you a broken heart you can never repair. I flinched. I shouldn’t have these thoughts. I shouldn’t. Not if I was a good daughter. I won’t, won’t, won’t. He saw this and his jaw seemed to tighten. In a flash he was in front of me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look into his eyes, a beautiful gold color meeting my own dark red.
“Don’t think I say that out of conscious, Maria dear. I have no care for you or your flimsy excuse for a life. I want the same thing you want. And what I want right now, is information. Why did you kill him, really? How did you meet Raphael?”
His eyes were turning feverish, their golden hue slowly being replaced by a darker color, from sweetened honey, to the bitterness of dark chocolate. His eyes refused to part from mine, his face-
I shut my eyes refusing to have these thoughts.
No,
No,
No.
“Why did he bring you here and why do you-“
He broke off suddenly, releasing my chin and leaving the air cold where he had stood.
I opened my eyes.
Why do I what? What was he about to say? He was gripping a table in the middle of the room, and running a hand through his hair, the raven locks growing tangled and messy. His eyes were closed and his face was a marble statue. He straightened and turned back to me. His voice had lost its maniac tinge, his whole manner more composed.
I hated it.
“How did it feel? To kill? To kill for the first time, how did it feel?” His voice was quiet, his eyes gold again as they stared at my eyes unflinchingly, almost daring me to look away.
I closed my eyes again, tasting the acidic tang of my words as I replied.
“Good. Really good. Like-“
“Meeting an old friend.” His voice was strange again. His eyes were warm, like he was trying to understand me, trying too see me. Like he was trying to see a glimpse of some remnant of a soul in me.
Of course, he couldn’t. No one could. She had tried and…
“Yeah”
We stared at each other for a moment before he spoke.
“Come with me”
He couldn’t see my soul, though. I don’t say that out of sentimentality, or logic, or reason. I say that because whatever soul I had died on the blood covered streets with her, as she lay wounded and dying.
Now, there was nothing left but dust and shadows.
________________________
His grip on my hand was strong as he led me again through the winding halls.
“Небеса Ад”
His voice echoed through the empty passageways like a lions roar, loud, and unshakable.
“What?”
Compared to him, I was the mouse of the story. The quiet, agreeable mouse.
My eyes narrowed.
Over my dead body.
“Heavens Hell.” He repeated.
“That’s what we call this beautiful building of ours.” Then he turned and gave me a wry glance, almost joking. His voice was sarcastic and for a second he looked like the kind of boy you would see joking with his friends on the street. The kind of guy everyone knew and loved. The kind of person who didn’t know anything about murder, or betrayal, or torture. A guy who was human.
I stiffened. He wasn’t human.
He wasn’t.
He was a monster.
“Why must everything you have be dark, so broken?”
I knew my question was prying, that I should never question them. But right now, I didn’t care. His smile faded, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes wandered the room, not seeming to see anything.
I didn’t expect him to say anything. But when he did, his voice was the kind of quiet that told you that you should be very, very afraid.
“Because you cannot build on the living, on what is soon to be broken by the test of time, and destroyed by the embrace of death.
All that can be created is built of ash and bone”
____________________________________
We stopped in front of a room with tall mahogany doors, looming. Damien gave me a wink before he slipped in like a slithering serpent, his movements as graceful as that of a predator. He seemed to have already forgotten the hallway. I knew I should to, after all, it didn’t mean anything.
So why is that so hard?
I followed him in, the smell of blood hitting my nose like the sweet aroma of a lit candle. The ground was stained scarlet and there was a faint shimmer to it.
Blood.
I looked up slowly from the floor to see… pixies.
Everywhere. Chained to the tables, their cruel black eyes broken from pain and hopelessness, their screams echoing around the room like a beautiful symphony. I felt a hand close around mine and I looked up to see the twinkling eyes of Damien Gray. I began to smile back when I remembered her screams. What they did. I yanked my hand away and took a step back. The sparkle in his eyes died and his face became expressionless.
“Meet the pixies” He spread his arms wide, walking backwards as though to illustrate the sheer size of it all. There must have been hundreds, maybe thousands.
“They attempted a raid on our southeastern stronghold, so we captured them to show an example”
He had turned to give a mocking bow to a pixie who was taller than the rest, her eyes not yet as broken. This must be the queen. Her chains were thicker than the rest, her punishment more open, the whole room capable of seeing her, their queen being tortured by the Ten Skulls. It was all a show, wasn’t it? The Ten Skulls liked their entertainment.
I let out a hoarse laugh that quickly died at the harsh look from Damien.
An example. An example. Just like how I was an example. I felt the first pang of sympathy for these vile creatures arise. Damien walked toward me, his steps languid and easy, a smirk playing on his lips.
Just like in the throne room.
He pressed a knife to my palm as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his lips brushing the shell.
“Let’s see what you can do.”
_______________________
I approached the pixie, her black eyes wild with fear as she thrashed against her bindings. I laid the knife against her small arm and drew it down slowly, leaving a trail of blood. She began to cry out, but I ignored her agony, pushing down harder with every pathetic scream. I felt my blood begin to heat and rush inside of me at this feeling of power. I was trapped in this sick game of lies and murder, but I was not powerless. And I felt shock race up my spine. He knew. Damien knew how this felt. Why was he letting me feel this power when, with just a word, he could have me killed in every humiliating and painful way possible? I turned and saw him watching with inscrutable eyes.
“Go on. Don’t tell me you can’t finish what you started.”
I felt a slight grin flash across my face before I stifled it. He was a monster. He was giving me a taste of power just to snatch it away, to make me as broken as these dying pixies. I had to figure out what he wanted. I won’t be a victim of them again. Not now, not ever.
I turned back to the pixie, and I leaned down to ask.
“What’s your name, little pixie?” My voice was soft.
She sniffled, “Arabella”
“Arabella,” I said tasting the name with the bitterness of salt and blood, lifting the blade and pressing it down gently. Her life was so fragile, so worthless.
“Arabella”
And I thrust the blade forward.
I stared down at her still body, my pulse roaring, adrenaline racing through my body. The sound of the screams, the thrill of the kill, however easy.
I whirled to Damien and raced across to him, throwing my arms around him in a strangling hug. He was stiff for a moment before his arms closed around me and we sat there, listening to the agony and tasting the blood, both of us comforted by the knowledge we weren’t the only monsters left.
_________________
As we walked through the silent halls, I prayed he wouldn’t mention my impulsive hug.
“Sariati, Sariati, Sariati.” I repeated to myself, like a chant, silent, but leaving a mark nonetheless.
“Why?” His voice was conversational, careless even.
“Why do you hate me?” He turned to look at me, walking backwards, his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he was about to waltz out that front door and go to some club for the night. Like he was about to get drunk, and gamble, and not be back till dawn, smelling of alcohol and drunk as a sailor’s son.
“I don’t” I replied automatically. He huffed a small laugh, his breath fogging in the cold air as I shivered in my thin dress.
“Yes, you do. Why?”
“Because of what they did to her.”
Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking.
“The Brother?
“No. Sariati.”
Stop, Stop, Stop.
He paused as we reached a courtyard, and he sat down on the cold marble floor. Flashing me a grin, he pulled me down to sit next to him and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. The sun was beginning to set and it looked like the sky was on fire. I remembered the last time I had sat down and watched a sunset with another person.
But she hadn’t even remembered who I was.
“Who?”
He was so comforting, so warm, and so alive. It hurt to keep it all inside. I had to tell someone, anyone.
This doesn’t mean anything.
“My mother. She was never in good health, but when she was dying of the plague, she couldn’t stand straight, her body was deteriorating and she slurred.”
He slipped a hand in mine.
“The Drunk’s Death” The pain in his voice bled through. I gripped his hand as I continued.
“Yeah. They saw her coming home from work. We didn’t know she had it then. Never really talked much.”
I curled inward, shivering at the cold and the memories. Damien unwrapped his arm from around me and was quiet. I felt a sudden warm weight around my shoulders, and I realized Damien had given me his jacket.
It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.
“They saw her. They asked her what she had, but she said nothing. They decided to have a little fun.” My voice caught. Damien pulled me closer as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder again. One hand began to absent-mindedly stroke the scar on my forearm. The hidden one no one was supposed to see.
“The police found her in a pool of her own blood the next morning and brought her to the hospital. She almost died that night, and she would have. She should have.” I tasted my own bitterness, my own acrid hatred.
“It would have been easier for all of us.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t comfort me with false promises, or ask me why. I didn’t tell him everything. I wouldn’t. I don’t know why. I don’t care. I want to be powerful again. But she made sure I could never be.
I glanced over at him and saw him watching the sunset. His face was set in stone, his raven hair blowing in the wind, and he closed his eyes, and pulled me closer.
I put my head on his shoulder as we watched the sunset together, and I felt for the first time, maybe I could forgive. Not all Sariati. Just one. But not yet. It was too soon. Not yet. But maybe.
Maybe.
_____________________________
We stopped outside the healing center. He gripped my arm. He looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes conflicted. Suddenly he let go and stormed away, disappearing into the winding hallways of Heaven’s Hell.
“You can’t trust him” I whispered. I can’t believe I told him. About her, about me, about anything. It didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t. It can’t. I stared after him for a moment when a voice behind me made me jump.
“Well, Well, Well”
I whirled and saw Alyona. Her signature glare was back, but this time, she seemed to be glaring at Damien, not me. She tried to touch my arm, but I jerked away. She looked at me sharply, her voice stinging.
“You think you’re better than me now? Now that you’ve gained favor with your partner?” Her voice was scathing, and my cheeks flushed.
“What I think was that I trusted you and you were completely willing to throw me to the wolves,” I hissed.
“You’re being dramatic,” She snapped, eyes flashing.
“Am not!”
“Stop being a child!”
Her voice rang through the healing center that we had wandered into while arguing. She scrubbed her face with her hands, seeming to calm herself down. I didn’t want her calm. I wanted a fight.
I bunched my hands into fists, but when I took a step toward Alyona, she…flinched. Her face quickly became stone again, but I knew I hadn’t imagined that flash of fear, that small wince. She was surrounded by murderers, thieves, and criminals…
Had one of them hurt her?
My hands loosened and I reached for Alyona, wrapping my arms around her. I felt her tense, and I worried she was about to shove me away. Then, I felt her relax, and then she was hugging me back.
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
“Rhdoi Morozov. My parents were…” she trailed off. I knew that I shouldn’t push her, that she might not want speak. But I had to know.
I knew how much it hurt to keep it all inside.
It never means anything anyway.
“Deadbeats?” I suggested, trying to make my voice carefree. She gave a small smile.
“Well, they were that yes. But they were also druggies, junkies, and drunkies. They were everything I grew to hate.” She huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“Eventually, they found that raising a kid wasn’t really one of their life goals. So they ditched me on my uncle. The worst part is, I understood why. Everyone loved him, after all. They thought I would have a loving home. I guess it was their idea of a last goodbye.” She grew quiet for a moment.
“He wasn’t like them. He hated drugs and he never drank. He gave to charities, and visited the poor every weekend.”
“Perfect guy. But no one knew him the way I did. He was unstable. And no one knew that like I did.”
Her eyes were focused on the walls, her smile bitter like a nightshade.
“I know he loves me. But it just…isn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. When I got older, a friend of mine was stopping by when he came home. He was furious”
She paused. She was running a hand down the walls, the look in her eyes the same as the one I had when I told Damien. Neither of us knew why we spoke. But we did anyway.
“He thought we were alone. I don’t even remember what he was angry about. Maybe it was that his coffee wasn’t made right, or his employee mixed something up. I know it wasn’t worth what happened. She reported him the next morning and they took him away. He promised me he’d come back for me”
Her voice became soft, like a silken lie.
“Sometimes I have nightmares he will.”
I remember one thing my mother taught me. Always observe everyone. Make them trust you. But trust no one. Alyona’s eyes flash when she lies. I found that out when I met Aleksandr, when I saw her lie about him. About why she hated him so. But what part is a lie, and which is truth?
Suddenly, I remembered a piece of a song we used to sing for the widows of war, long, long ago, in my home country.
When I was free.
Он вернется. Каждый раз, когда он уходит, это только новое начало. Но как только он вернется, не верьте ни одному слову, ибо он лжец, лжец, лжец.
He will come back.
Each time he leaves,
is only a new beginning.
But once he returns,
trust not one word,
for he’s a liar,
liar,
liar.
When the Liar Returns [Enamani Folk Song]
___________________
She stopped again, and she seemed to be thinking about something. She reached out and gently grasped my arm, caressing the scar on the inside of my forearm. No one knew where I got it.
But I knew.
I just wished I didn’t.
“What about you?”
I stiffened. Should I tell her? Could I tell her? No, no I couldn’t. I can’t.
“No one,” I whispered.
Neither of us believed it.
_________________
“Come on” Alyona said, as she pulled away.
“Look at us, two strong women crying over things that are long gone. And we still have to get you your tattoo.”
My eyes widened as I remembered.
“Who’s going to do it?”
She burst out laughing, chasing away the last of the tears from her deep brown eyes.
“Aleksandr, of course.”
Oh hell.
_____________
Alyona opened the door to the brightly lit room, her face apologetic. I stepped in, the door closing with a soft click, me wishing it would stay open. Aleksandr’s back was turned to me, and he seemed to be polishing off his needle. I sucked in a breath and walked over to sit in the chair.
“He-Hello.”
He didn’t respond. I squirmed in the silence he had built between us.
“We-we haven’t been properly introduced, right? I’m Annamaria, but everyone calls me Maria, and wow, this room is pretty bright, isn’t it?” I knew I was babbling, and I knew I should stop. I saw his shoulders tense.
“I wonder if its always like this, or is it just me? What are you doing with that needle? I don’t really know a lot about getting a tattoo but I-“
“Shut! Up!” He turned to me and his eyes were dark.
“Must you speak to fill every silence? Silence is not the enemy, and you are no more than a murderer. I only do this as I was ordered to.”
He turned back around again, seemingly convinced this would frighten me into silence, that his impulsivity would somehow silence me.
I stiffened. How dare he? All here were killers, thieves, and liars. Yet he had the audacity to tell me that I was nothing more than what we all were. Everyone has killed something. The light in someone’s eyes, the hope in someone’s heart. He knew nothing.
The room was silent as he finished polishing the needle, then, turning to me, he ordered.
“Turn on your back” His voice was rough, his hands curled into fists, his hatred palpable.
“Why not on my wrist?”
“You think you are worthy?” He gave me a disgusted glare.
“Only those who have proven their worth deserve the mark on their wrist, the spiritual home of Jirsn”
I gave him a glare I thought was worthy of Alyona and turned on my back, unlacing it for the tattoo. I hated their Jirsn, their spirit of destruction. They worshipped pain and revered hate, these disgusting jeternins. I felt his hand begin to trace the design on my back before it was replaced by a stencil he carefully traced. His hands were soft on my back, their texture rough and scarred. I tried to remain still as he sketched, until I felt something sharp pressed to my skin. I gasped, and I felt his hands flinch. He growled,
“I can’t work if you refuse to stay still.”
“Well, then how about a warning, Sranil ?”
I knew I shouldn’t have.
The name was cruel and perhaps uncalled for. But from the way he was treating me, I felt justified in calling this man “spawn of a dog.” His hands dug into my skin.
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” He bit out the words, each one angrier than the last.
I didn’t say a word, and I felt the needle press again into my skin again as he turned it on. I felt tears spring in my eyes as the needle kept going and going and going. I buried my face in my arms, stifling sobs and stilling my shaking shoulders as he continued. And after what felt like hours, days even, I felt him stop. Brushing a hand against my skin, I felt him wrap up my back. I knew he was only trying to avoid getting me infected, and that he hated me, but his hands were so soft, it was hard to remember. Those soft hands made me think of that little boy I had seen in his eyes, the one he hid so well. What had happened to him? He drew his hands away quickly when I breathed a sigh and tied off the bandage
“Done.” His voice was cold, and I felt him turn away. I looked up and saw his back to me again like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t been the one to carve a mark on my skin, one that I would always have. Like all the scars I carried, he had just given another. But this one, I saw in the mirror, was made in the design of a skull, dripping venom, with a snake curling through. My blood chilled.
I knew what the snake meant.
He had just give me the label of a thief.
A stealer, of lives.
Lacing up the back of my gown again, I slipped on my shoes and walked away from the stifling silence, from the disapproving hatred, and away from Aleksandr Volkov.
_______________
Alyona gave me a concerned glance as we made our way back to the healing center, but she stopped short right before the doors. They were wide open and a white-haired man was sitting inside, examining the room with critical blue eyes.
“Raphael” Her voice was stiff, like a marionette doll. She bowed shallowly, her eyes frozen. She gave me a quick hug before rushing out, like the hounds of hell were chasing at her heels. My eyes trailed after her as I wondered. The still silence was broken by the harsh tones of Raphael’s bark of,
“Where?”
I knew what he was asking.
“My back.”
I wished I didn’t know what had happened between us, destroying that familiarity, that fragile peace. But I knew. He stood up, an engraved cane in hand. I knew he didn’t need it. His eyes bore into me, questioning.
“Aleksandr, wasn’t it?”
It wasn’t a question.
“How did you know?”
He huffed a chuckle.
“Only Aleksandr would tattoo a wounded girl’s back.”
My lips thinned and I took a closer look at Raphael. He was trying to bait me. But I don’t care about Aleksandr. All I care about right now is Raphael. He had bags under his eyes, and his skin was paler.
“What are they doing to you?”
He wasn’t okay. Something was wrong.
“There are things you don’t know about, Maria.” His voice was now harsh.
Fine.
If he didn’t care, neither did I.
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted to know what happened. I like to see the endings of my stories”
I stiffened. Was that all I was? An ending to an old man’s games? Like a puppet on a string.
That’s not true. It can’t be, not after what happened. I know it isn’t true, but I need to breathe, need to think.
Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the room to the sound of Raphael’s raspy laugh behind me, echoing in the darkness that would soon vanish into the blinding light of the sun.
______________________
The hallways seemed to go on forever, and each time I passed a closed door, there would be two men stationed outside seeing me, observing me, judging me. I couldn’t breathe, everything was caving in on itself, my life collapsing like a house of cards.
I felt like I was being suffocated, and all the walls were closing in on me. I ran for the door, the one I had in walked through, and the one I wished I could escape through. Away from the lies. Away from the pain. Away from everyone. The doors banged open, and when the cold night air hit me, I felt like I could breathe again. Where were they now?
I need to leave. I know I need to. But I can’t. The thought of never seeing Alyona again, of never seeing Raphael again, tore a hole in me almost as deep as the one she had left.
I fell onto the ground, and I clutched my face, gasping like I had just run a mile. I heard faint voices before an arm wrapped around me. I didn’t know who it was, but I let them stay. I felt another arm wrap around me, feminine and soft. That was when I realized who they were. And I leaned into the only people here who had tried to be kind to me, even if only for a moment, as I breathed and gasped, and shook. I didn’t want to cry, not in front of them. But Damien and Alyona held me through it all, their arms steady and strong, and perfect.
And I felt myself break apart in their arms and come together as I cried, not tears of sadness, or pain, or hate. Just tears that somehow broke me, and healed me, as I sobbed in their arms. Not happy tears. Not sad. Just…Relieved. Relieved that I will survive, that I know I will not shatter. Relief that I know I will not only survive, I will live. I will fight with every last breath, with blade and bone, with blood and steel.
I’m not broken. They will never break me.
Never,
Never,
Never.
________________________
Hey readers, I hope you enjoyed “Chapter III-Faith, Trust, and Pixie Blood”, and I get ready for Chapter 4 on May 16th! Please like and subscribe!
A synonym is a word you use when you can’t spell the other one.
Baltasar Gracian
Chapter II- Killer
By Sara Aziz
Hello readers! I hope you enjoy it, and please, feel free to comment if you have any ideas or just comments on the writing itself! I’m open to all critiques! Please like and subscribe!
__________________________________
Chapter 2
Killer
His eyes cut into me, forcing me to listen. Forcing me to understand. Making me see that I had just done something unforgivable. But then, if it’s so horrible,
Why did it feel so good?
I barely noticed, barely cared that Raphael was dragging me through the broken glass, yet feeling the glass cutting me, digging into my skin, leaving a trail of scarlet in my wake. I was numb as he shoved me into the street and forced me to walk. Walk. Walk. I don’t know where and I don’t care. Just away,
away,
away.
He led me through the dark streets, the sun just barely rising above, casting the sky into brilliant hues of champagne, violet, and sea. I despised it. Or, I think I would have. But I couldn’t seem to feel anything. Nothing. Everything. The streets became dirtier, and the people were all the more broken. Shattered dreams and blood covered the street and lingered in the air like a putrid perfume. Women crouched in alleys, clutching children covered in grime and dust. Men collapsed on the streets, some begging, some drunk, some dead. Broken bottles littered the streets and pathways like a darker version of a child’s confetti. One woman was crying as she held onto a little boy, his arm bleeding, the blood gushing, refusing to stop, the woman soaking in her son’s blood. I tried to move, tried to go over, but Raphael’s cold, firm hand held onto me like a vise. And then I realized, the boy’s neck was at the wrong angle, like it had been snapped. The woman was covered in bruises and scars as she knelt next to the boy, cradling his head in her lap. A tall man stood gazing down at the woman and the body, expressionless. I stifled a gasp and continued stumbling after him. The air reeked of despair. You could already tell that there was no hope left. Like hope too, had died on these dust-covered streets. I felt the pain begin to sear the edges of my numbness, and I let out a strangled whimper. One man, his breath smelling of alcohol and fear huffed a laugh, rasping,
“Welcome to Hell’s Alley, love.”
Faster than I could blink, Raphael had the man pinned to the wall. His hands squeezed tighter around the other man’s throat. I remembered that vise-like grip on my wrist and stilled. So I watched as Raphael squeezed the man’s throat tighter, and I watched with open fascination, as the man attempted to let out a scream, but all he could let out were moans. Terrified, hysteric, psychotic moans.
Beautiful.
________________________________
Finally, the screams stopped. And I watched as Raphael let go and the man crumpled to the street, his eyes wide and unseeing. But as I stared at the body, that same grip was suddenly around my wrist and dragging me away again, through the dark streets until we stopped outside a building. I suppose I could say that it was the nicest building there, but to say that, it would have to be just another dirt-filled, scum-covered waste of brick and stone. But it wasn’t. It was beautiful, it was grand, and it was theirs. But there was something else, a memory, tugging at the darkest recesses of consciousness. I remembered a woman’s face, standing before the building, holding my hand. Her features were hazy, but they were determined. It was a long time ago. I’m probably wrong.
But that face looked just like my mom’s.
_____________________________
He pulled out a key and inserted it into the lock. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The biggest stronghold in the continent was accessible by a simple key? He saw me staring at the key and gave me a wry smile.
“Just a key?” I realized my voice sounded doubtful, and my cheeks flushed pink. I hated my tell. Whenever I was embarrassed, mad, sad, or anything, I went pink like a freakin’ azalea. He laughed, and shook his head before responding,
“The key has a microchip inserted in the front, along with a fingerprint reader. The camera will read my face and match it, then a member sits in the security room watching everyone who enters.”
That sounded way too overcomplicated. What if instead, you just put a facial scanner, and actually used the guards?
click.
All they would need to do is clean up the dead body.
I shuddered at myself. I hated that I’ve always had this weird fascination with death. I remember my own mother trying to understand it and… I shook off the memory before I realized,
“They can hear us?”
Raphael smiled again, this time with genuine humor. Amusement twinkled in his eyes again as he responded,
“Most definitely.”
And the doors swung open.
_______________________
“Why are you so dramatic?” A voice rang out through the still silence of the hall. It sounded very muffled. I couldn’t tell whether they were old or young, or where it was coming from. Raphael watched me look around with laughter.
“Ignore him. That’s just Damien, the attention seeker. Probably just got bored, the fool, because he has nothing better to do.”
“Fool?” The voice – Damien – now sounded insulted. And amused. Raphael continued to drag me through the halls as Damien went quiet for a moment, before saying,
“I’m not the one out on the sidewalk terrifying little girls, Raphael” I stiffened, immediately renewing my efforts to find where the voice was coming from.
“Damien” Raphaels voice was a warning, and the boy laughed for a moment before going silent.
Suddenly, as doors closed behind me with a loud clang, I realized that I was in a dark room.
And we weren’t alone.
“сын”
I peered into the darkness, but I could only make out a faint silhouette. Like a ghost.
“Why are you here Raphael?” The voice was cold.
“You have never come voluntarily on your own, Raphael. So, I must wonder, what favor will you ask of me? Will you ask me to spare her? Spare her for the murder of our brother? Is that why you have returned? To beg for the mercy of killers? ” I stiffened. They knew. They always knew. Because they were always watching.
Raphael let out a low chuckle.
“сын. Если бы она этого не сделала, то она была бы мертвой на полу. У брата Алексея никогда не было ни терпения… ни милосердия”
There was a contemplative silence. Then,
“Aleksei was there for you Raphael. You hid and allowed a little girl to take your fall, and Aleksei died for it. An example must be made, and as I am no longer capable of punishing you, she must be.”
Raphael bowed his head.
“Yes, Brother.”
And as much as I tried to reassure myself that they wouldn’t hurt me, couldn’t hurt me with Raphael’s protection, I felt the truth dig into bones, needing to be heard, as we rose.
It was a lie.
________________________
“What did you say to him?” I whispered to Raphael as a guard led us out to a staircase. He gave me a brief look, then said,
“Nothing of importance.”
“Then what’s my punishment?”
At that, Rapheal hesitated. Finally, he cleared his throat and said,
“Ten lashes.”
I blinked disbelievingly. Surely they wouldn’t be so crude.
“You don’t mean with a whip, do you?”
His silence was answer enough.
He quickly gave me a pitying look before refocusing on the guards stationed at every door.
“Ten. Lashes.” Raphael repeated stoically before a man came walking down the stairs, wearing a dark business suit and a secret smile that told you he knew something you didn’t. He was extraordinarily alluring, with his eyes of pure silver, edged with beautiful insanity, and a chiseled face, like a stone statue from long ago. He turned around to say something to the guard, and I saw…
Wings. Beautiful gray wings with feathers that looked soft as silk. Downy masses, like the wings of the dove. But only one species had wings.
I was about to be whipped by a Fallen.
_____________________
I felt my terror begin to rise as he dragged me down the stairs into a cold room, not a fire in sight, as I tried to remember everything I had ever been taught about the Fallen. Were some merciful? Think Maria, think.
The Fallen were children of angels and demons. They had the beauty of heaven and the soul of hell, and to touch a Fallen was to reach for the heavens, but to brush damnation. They were cruel and vicious, and they despised humanity. For the disobedience of their sires, every day, they burned, but despite the fact their very being was incapable of feeling a flame, their souls were made of it. While we could not touch it for fear of pain, to touch fire for the Fallen was to return to Hell. To serve the pure. To touch one of the Fallen was to touch death itself. No one angered them, not if they wanted to live. So I bowed my head as he finally stilled and gave me a smile that was so beautiful, and so cruel, it was torture in itself.
“We’re here”
____________________
The whip was bloody as he pulled it out. Ten lashes they said. Ten lashes. I felt my breath come in short bursts as the chains closed around my wrists, slender and scarred. He fingered the whip lovingly like it was his baby. I squeezed my eyes tight as he approached my back, bare and bent. I heard the air snap as he lifted the whip and then felt it come down.
Again
and
again
and
again.
“Count your lashes.” He gasped, his breathing labored, but excited.
I made no sound, the tears running hot down my cheeks, silent screams tearing me apart from the inside.
“Count. The. Lashes. Or I will..not…stop” He hissed in eager anticipation as he came down with the edges of the whips, covered in spiking shards of metal, designed to tear into the already injured skin, designed to give him the screams he so desperately wanted.
“One!” I whimpered, my voice hoarse, wanting the pain to end, needing the agony to stop.
“Two!”
I wailed, I cried, I moaned, and I screamed the numbers until I couldn’t breathe, until blood ran hot down my back. Until I couldn’t tell if he had given me ten lashes or ten thousand. I clawed at the ground, my fingernails cracking and breaking on the jagged ground, hating the tears spilling from my face, hated that the tears that had been torn from a place in me that I wished had died back in my cold, empty home. The tears I had sworn I would never shed again. Finally, he stopped. I could barely feel it. All I felt was the hot lashes on my back, the phantom whip. I heard my own screams echoing. I heard the harsh rasp of his laughter. I curled tighter into a ball as the blood fell to the ground, just another victim of this human hell. Another victim of the Ten Skulls. But I wasn’t a victim was I? I had killed,
killed,
killed.
But the thing that hurt me the most wasn’t that I had murdered, stolen a human life… It was that I liked it too.
“жин” I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken, hating that I was unsure of whom I was speaking about.
Demon.
And as I heard his shoes click away, I couldn’t tell whether he had left, or delirium had finally overcome me. I felt a soft hand touch my back, so different from the hard, sharp leather of the whips. I looked up through bleary eyes to see a figure with white hair and blue eyes. Raphael leaned in close to hold me as I cried and cried and cried.
_____________________
I saw Raphael nudge me gently, urging me to my feet. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. He sighed and stood up, his shoes clicking on the hard stone as he left the room.
I pulled myself in closer as I finally allowed myself to suffer alone. I felt the room go cold, and seem to shrink around me, suffocating me, and I shivered. Suddenly, strong arms picked me up and carried me up the stairs, steady and unfaltering. Quick, and sure. I felt myself pull closer to this unshakeable man carrying me. I didn’t know who he was, but I had a strange feeling like I was….safe. I breathed in the suddenly clean smell of sheets and medicine. I tried to move closer to the mystery man before I got laid down on my stomach on a bed and drifted off into the ever-going abyss of sleep.
_______________________
When my eyes opened groggily, I shifted, trying to feel the pain in my back, but there was only a faint twinge. I blew out a breath as I realized my shirt was off. Probably for my back. As I reached an arm around to feel it, my fingers came away sticky from a salve rubbed on. My fingernails were fixed, somehow healed. Someone had helped me. Someone had helped me. I tensed as I remembered my mother grabbing my arm and twisting it whenever I came home from school, a gift in hand from a teacher, or another friend. I remember her hissing voice,
“Keep your eyes open and your heart closed. No one does anything for nothing.”
Of course, she knew that better than anyone.
I sat up, wrapping a towel I spotted hanging off the bed around my chest, and looked around, absorbing the room. A woman was standing in white at the end of the room, humming gently as she tucked her gray hair behind her ears. She was rearranging bottles by color, I think, when she turned around and saw me watching her. She gasped as she rushed over to push me onto my stomach again.
“You cannot sit up while the medicine is still fresh” she barked, with a surprisingly strong voice for such a small woman. I turned my head to look at her, my face still, my eyes as dark as I could make them. Her expression became one of faint guilt and she sighed.
“Fine, but I have to be next to you,” she helped me climb to my feet. I felt a bit woozy for a moment, but that feeling passed soon to be replaced by a sense of nausea. She was helping me put on a white robe when someone knocked on the door.
“Just a minute” she called, tying it off, then reaching over to the door to open it. A man was standing in the doorway. He had his eyes pointed at the ceiling as he spoke, his voice low, but strong.
“The Brother would like to see her, Alyona”
The woman – Alyona – stiffened, and gave him a hard look, which he pointedly avoided.
“She is still healing, Volkov.”
At that, the man looked at her, his eyes a strong deep blue, sharp and cutting, like a steel blade.
“Gregori is known for his brutality, Alyona, and the choice the Brother made was not one of random. She deserved her punishment. And the choice to make you her healer was not one of chance either, Alyona. You are the best, and the Brother needed her healed quickly. Unfortunatly.“
I took a step back when those eyes truly focused on me, disgust and revulsion shining in those deep blue depths. Alyona stepped in front of me and gave him a shove.
“Fine. She will come. But give her time to dress.”
The man gave a grudging nod as he turned and stormed away. Alyona turned and began to rifle viciously through drawers, slamming them shut, and anger seemed to radiate off her.
She tore a hand through her hair before she called out after him, her voice mocking.
“You are playing with fire, Volkov. Eventually, who is to say we will be able to tell man from monster?”
Volkov stiffened but otherwise gave no signal he had heard her as he marched down the hall and out of sight. But not before he glanced back and locked eyes with me. And I saw a boy. One lost in the darkness. One who didn’t know how to find his way out. I took a step toward him, my body not listening to my mind, immediately regretting it, but it was too late to take it back. It was like a veil had been cast across his eyes of night and pain, then he was gone.
_________________
“Foolish.. imbecilic…reckless…mad..”
“What did he do to you?” I asked, breaking through her reverie. She looked up at me and answered,
“Nothing.”
“He didn’t say much of anything.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I don’t, but I want to.”
“Why would I tell you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
We stood looking at each other for a moment before she let out a gust of breath and turned away. The room was quiet for several minutes. Alyona didn’t want to speak, and all I could think about was that glimpse I had seen in his eyes. That little boy was lost in the dark. And for some reason, I wished I could be the one to guide him back.
“What’s his name?”
Alyona stopped for a moment, twiddling some fabric between her fingers before answering.
“Volkov. Aleksandr Volkov”, and then we were silent again.
Finally, she had a dress in her hands as she approached to help me change. She had sounded so angry, I expected rough hands, cold and vicious. Rather, her hands were gentle and cool on the wounds on my back. She gave a sigh as she finished lacing up the dress, and I looked at it as she rubbed her face with her head in her hands. The dress was a lovely white, with mermaid lace along the sides, and a bodice that was loose around my back. My favorite type. How…?
“I’m sorry, child, they can..lose control sometimes.” She gave a look at the camera, a glare I was beginning to realize she seemed to aim at everyone, and I looked at it myself, noticing a red light on. Suddenly, I felt very exposed. Alyona barked out a laugh, and for the first time, I really took in that despite her gray hair, she couldn’t have been older than 23. Only five years older than me. Only two years older than my mom when she… I shut down that train of thought, refusing to give in to the memories that kept resurfacing. Kept coming back.
“Don’t worry, Damien turns off the camera here while you change.” She cast a dark look at the door, and her mood was black again.
Damien? That was the man that had been controlling the cameras earlier. The one Raphael called a fool.
“Was he here?” I didn’t know why I asked. It was a stupid question. Alyona opened her mouth as though to respond, but then looked at the camera and closed it again. She said too quickly,
“Of course not! What a ridiculous idea”
When Alyona turned away, my face turned bright pink. Why was she lying to me? Why had Damien come to see her when I was unconscious? And most importantly, why was Alyona scared of him? Who was he?
“What’s your name?” Alyona asked, her voice inquisitive, but not prying. I had a feeling that if I didn’t tell her, she would respect that and leave it be. But I wanted to tell her. I also felt like this was a desperate attempt to change the subject, but I was alright with that.
I looked at my feet, bare on the cold marble, and said,
“Annamaria. Annamaria Lopez.”
“Well Annamaria Lopez, It’s time you meet the Brother”
__________________
I felt my face go white as Alyona and I neared the great hall. Alyona was clasping my hand as she led me in, and I knew she could feel my body tremble. As we stood outside the doors, two men unlocked them, both staring at us with inscrutable eyes. My eyes began to narrow when Alyona suddenly asked,
“How has your knee been, Andrei? I keep telling you to take your medications but you never listen. You know how stubborn he can be,” She turned and said to the other man.
“How has your wife been Nicholas? I haven’t seen much of her lately. Not since the baby was born.”
She was normalizing them, popping in more facts about their lives, making them seem almost…human.
Andrei had a sweet 5-year-old daughter named Heather who played the clarinet. Nicholas’s wife had just given birth to a beautiful little boy named Mikhail. Andrei’s wife loved comedies. Nicholas’s son read horrors. It went on and on. They seemed so ordinary, so..typical.
Andrei and Nicholas just stared at her as she kept chattering, seeming unsure of what to do with such a talkative woman. I felt what was almost a smile tug at my lips before my expression froze, and I stiffened as I felt the air go cold. A man had swept into the room, followed by Raphael and a boy. He looked about 19, with silky-looking black hair and golden brown eyes that gave me a contemplative look, as though he was trying to determine my worth before actually speaking to me. He wore a black leather jacket and black skinny jeans, but that wasn’t what shocked me. What shocked me was that he wasn’t wearing a uniform. Why? The silence suddenly became deafening. The man in front wore black robes that I used to associate with the Grim Reaper. His skin was so white it seemed to glow, his eyes black as a tomb.
“Annamaria Lopez. Alyona Morozov.”
I stiffened. I remembered that voice. I remembered it. Not from earlier…from years before.
Why?
We both curtsied as the boy gave us a wink, his cold eyes now twinkling, his enjoyment at our fear palpable. My hands that were raising the skirt clenched into fists. Alyona stepped forward, her face cautioning me. I got the message.
Wait.
“Brother, -”
The man held up a hand to signify her silence, then swept down the steps to us.
“Ms. Lopez. You have done us a terrible wrong today, and while it was paid in blood, it is not over. You have taken a life, and now you owe one. You will be one of us. A bounty hunter. Охотник за головами. But, you have not proven you are capable yet, or to be trusted. I have given you a partner. One who will give you no loyalty and will hide nothing from me. He will guard your back in a fight, but if that fight is against us or me, his knife will just as soon end up buried in your back.” I watched with what I hoped were indecipherable eyes.
“You will be partners with Damien Gray, our best bounty hunter, and our youngest member”
My face went pink and I stopped focusing on my eyes as I realized this was the boy that had seen me earlier. The one that had made Alyona lie. Was this why? The Brother’s gaze darkened and his voice became like an ice-covered blade.
“Ms. Lopez, this is me being generous. If you do not take this offer, there will be no others. You will pay with your death, and this affair will come to an end.” His eyes glinted,
“I assure you, this is easier for all of us”
I nodded, the pink drained from the porcelain color of my skin. The Brother swept from the room in a swirl of silk and shadow. Raphael gave me a glance as he followed, but the boy walked behind, his steps languid and easy. He gave me a small smile before he left, but now that he was closer, his face looked sharper, the angles more pronounced. He was beautiful, he was demonic, he was
Sariati.
I was right. He wasn’t human at all.
He was a monster.
“Nice to meet you, Maria.” His voice was like iron-covered silk. Soft, but strong. Cold, and deadly.
I turned my head away and didn’t respond. I will never talk to a Sariati. Not after what they did.
Never,
Never,
Never.
He watched me for a moment before following them out the door, Andrei and Nicholas following behind. Alyona tried to put a hand on my arm, but I shrugged it off.
I hated the name they had given me, the brand that would haunt me for the rest of my days.
In Minor, the language of this god-forsaken country Jeterna, Охотник за головами may mean Bounty Hunter.
But in Respani, it had only one meaning.
Killer.
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Hey readers! I hope you enjoyed Chapter Two: Perfect Hell, and be prepared for Chapter Three on May 2nd! Please like and subscribe!
A writer’s life and work are not a gift to mankind; They are its necessity.
Toni Morrison (The Source of Self Regard)
Chapter I- Bounty Hunter
By Sara Aziz
Hey readers! Chapter One of A Tale and Murder and Lies is ready! Enjoy, and please comment if you have any helpful comments!
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Chapter One
The Bounty Hunter
I wandered through the fog, fear beginning to mix with my grief. What was I going to do? I was all alone. As I felt myself begin to fall into my despair, I spotted a sign with a cursive script saying,
Glass Palace
Sculptors For Hire
I stared at the sign, my mind beginning to whirl. Maybe if I saved enough money, I could…
I don’t know what I would do.
But I need to do something, anything. I have to do something before I lose control. Of my future, of my now, of…me. As I approached the shop, I saw an old man with twinkling blue eyes looking at me through the window. The minute I opened the door, he said,
“Hello miss, I’m Raphael, and welcome to my Glass Palace! What can I get you?”
I cleared my throat and thrust out a hand.
“My name’s Annamaria Lopez, and I’m here about a job” Inwardly, I cringed at the shake in my voice. I desperately hoped he hadn’t notice.
A hint of surprise flashed on his face before he covered it with a wide smile. I barely had time to think of why before he was speaking again, his voice quick and sharp.
“Well then, all the better! Do you have any sculpting experience?”
I thought back to before the diagnosis, and I remember my mother teaching me how to mold clay, how to melt sand, and how to create masterpieces.
‘Everything will someday become necessary.’ she had claimed while forcing me to sculpt and mold the glass till my hands were shaking with exhaustion, and the sculptures were perfect.
“I have experience,” I told Raphael, the words sharper than I intended.
He narrowed his eyes before they took on a sly gleam.
“Well then, do you mind making me a little something? I do love my glass swans.”
Though what he asked was normal, I felt weirdly suspicious. I didn’t know why, though.
He led me to the back where there was sand, glass, molds, an oven, and everything I could possibly need.
“Make me a glass swan and you’ve got a job.”
He turned and hurried from the back room, while I searched through the molds. I sat back on my heels as I felt a strange feeling climbing up my throat.
A laugh tumbled from my lips. Shock froze me still as I marveled at the rusty, pathetic sound. I hadn’t laughed since my mother was diagnosed. I hadn’t laughed since she lost that bright glint in her eyes and hopelessness set in. I hadn’t laughed since I saw my father crying atop her coffin. I hadn’t, I hadn’t, I hadn’t. And to think I now laughed all because there was no swan mold. It’s funny how the universe works. And suddenly, I remember a saying my mother used to have on a tapestry above her bed.
“Until you’re broken, you don’t know what you’re made of. It gives you the ability to build yourself all over again, but stronger than ever.”
I put on my metal mask, and my heavy gloves, and I got to work.
______________________
Raphael came in about an hour later to see my glass swan. With a smirk in his general direction, I put it onto the counter, peeled off my gloves, and noted his shocked and delighted expression with a grin.
“So, when’s my first shift?”
3 weeks later
It was a late day for me, around 1:00 AM. The shop closes at 12:00, but I needed to finish some glass wolves for a customer coming in today. Just as I was raising my blade to brush it to the backs of the wolves, I heard the crunch of glass breaking, a crashing sound that resonated throughout the whole of the shop.
A break-in.
Running out to the front, I barely noticed I was still holding the knife. There, a tall man stood, his hand bloody and glass-cut. I looked at the door and noticed a hole, right above the now-unlocked doorknob. He saw me and gave me a smile.
“Now, then, what do we have here?”
I clutched my knife tighter as he stepped closer.
He laughed.
I hate him,
I hate him,
I hate him.
“Oh my, we have a fighter here.” His smile turned into a sneer, his eyes to a darkened shade of twisted.
I hate you,
I hate you,
I hate you.
“Listen darlin’, All I want to know is where Raphael is. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Liar,
Liar,
Liar.
“You’ll never find him,” I hissed, despising the slight quiver in my voice.
He stopped smiling. Straightening his jacket, he sighed, as though he expected more from me. I barely had time to wonder why before his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, lifting me above the ground as I began to choke.
“I will only ask one more time, darlin’. Where. Is. Raphael?” His eyes met mine, a beautiful dark shade of golden brown. They were so familiar…
I felt the world starting to go black. And with the last of my strength, I stabbed the knife.
Straight into his heart,
He stilled, and his grip on me became loose. With a violent kick, I shoved him away from me.
Right into a collection of glass sculptures.
I gripped my knife, nauseated by how easily the knife had slipped in. And yet… fascinated. Amazed. What’s wrong with me?
The figurines fell and shattered around him, each piercing him, tearing his skin, staining the carpet scarlet with blood. And I watched in morbid fascination as his eyes went white, and blood leaked from his mouth, then…
Death.
I heard the creak of a door, and I whirled around to find him watching me with inscrutable eyes.
“Raphael.” What was he doing here? Was he here the whole time?
Had he wanted me to die… instead of him?
I didn’t know why that hurt so much. I had known him for 3 weeks. So why did it feel like the knife was digging into my stomach, twisting with each second his hard blue eyes looked at me? He gave a long-suffering sigh.
“You stupid, stupid girl.”
He looked once again at the body, a hint of revulsion in his eyes, and for the first time, I noticed a tattoo on the inside of his left wrist.
A skull. He was a member of Десять черепов.
The Ten Skulls.
I just signed my own death sentence.
____________________________________
The first rule of the Ten Skulls is never talk about the Ten Skulls. And never make them angry.
They were legends.
They were monsters.
They were murderers.
I stumbled to the ground, the world whirling in a horrible tornado of words, colors, and terrors. Why does everything have to happen to me? Why is my luck so horrible?
‘You foolish, foolish girl. Why didn’t you look? Why didn’t you notice? Ignorant, simpleminded fool’. the coldly amused voice in my head murmured like it always did. Like it always will. It whispered, it purred, it dug its claws in deep enough to hit everywhere it hurt the most.
How could I believe that things would actually go my way, just once? How could I be dumb enough to think that for once, my life was going right? Maybe I’m cursed. Maybe I did something horrible in a past life that I’m still being punished for. Or maybe Fate is just a cruel vindictive piece of garbage who loves ruining my life like it’s her stupid entertainment.
I pressed a fist to my mouth to stifle a sob as that horrible symbol kept repeating in my head again and again, the words engraved underneath ricocheting through my mind, leaving scars that bled with memories.
Memories I wished I could forget.
“О бессмертии и кровавых клятвах. Пусть мы никогда не умрем.”
On immortality and blood vows.
May we never die.
Raphael crouched in front of me, and it was as though his face was carved in stone, unreadable, cold, and unfeeling.
“Never fear your power. But never let down your guard.
The world is covered with the bones of nations that thought they would never fall.”
I stared at the wall behind Raphael blankly. What power? This was all wrong, wrong, wrong.
He gripped my chin roughly and forced me to meet his eyes, unfocused brown to sharp blue, delirious darkness to cutting light.
“The Ten Skulls only let those who are useful live, angel”
And I watched as he pulled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo.
A bloody skull with serpents slithering through the eyeholes, and a shattered wineglass, dripping venom, spilled atop it.
I looked at Raphael again and there was something in his eyes. Darkness. A darkness, of death.
One I recognized all too well.
I reached out and grasped his hands, his strong, wrinkled hand clinging to my shaky, scarred one. So different. And yet, the same.
His voice was quiet when he said,
“What do you know about bounty hunters?”
________________________________________________________
Hey readers, I hope you enjoyed Chapter One: Bounty Hunter, and be prepared for Chapter 2 on April 18! Please like and subscribe!
Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird)
Literary World 