Arianna Rose: The Arrival (Part 4) (14 page)

His physical pain began to recede
.  The recollection fortified him enough to repel the smarting in his head and reposition his body.  He sat upright, his back leaning against a rough wall. 

He was unsure of how long he’d been unconscious for or exactly w
hat had happened, but guessed from the gnawing rumble in the pit of his stomach that he’d been out for a few days.  Where was he?  Why was he caged?  How had it happened?  None of it made sense.  Questions gave way to more questions with answers nowhere to be found.  They just continued to roll about in his mind like a ball of barbed wire, tormenting him.  The only thing anchoring him to sanity was Arianna; that she was out there, beyond the bars confining him, hurting, calling to him. 

He rubbed his temples then his eyes with the heels of his hands.  An explosion of bright colors burst before him like a kaleidoscope.  He clinched his eyes tighter and a scattering of black dots interspersed with the
hues.  He opened his eyes and they filled every niche of his field of vision for several moments before the fragmented colors pulled together to form images.  And then it started to return to him. 

Clips began flashing in his mind’s eye, spotty and fractured
at first, then becoming clearer.  A pair of pale green eyes veiled by dark lashes locked on his, a large, bronze hand collapsing against his face and then stinging agony so excruciating it drained him.  Darius.  The name detonated in his brain like a cannon blast.  And everything began to gel.  The cry of agony he’d heard, the overwhelming deception that had encompassed him, both involved Darius. 

Darius had gleaned his power
s, had transformed before him, and assumed Desmond’s identity right down to the tone of his voice.  He’d shape-shifted.  And Darius had hurt Arianna. 

Shock waves ripped through Desmond’s b
ody, his heartbeat a stampede of wild horses, pounding frantically.  He summoned his powers, reaching deep within his core to the reserve of essence that had been with him for as long as he could remember, and felt nothing.  The absence of his energy confirmed what he knew to be true already.  Darius had stolen his powers.  But Darius had not robbed him of his connection to Arianna.  That still remained intact.  His bond with her continued and enabled him to feel the deception she was experiencing, the heartbreak.  At first it had exploded through him like metal splinters, piercing and shredding everything they touched.  But little by little, the slashing ache subsided and was replaced with an entirely different wound: the slow, steady ache of a broken heart.  And she believed him to be responsible for it. 

Fury tensed his insides and he rose to his feet.  He took a step forward and felt his body pitch backward, wrenched by a length of chain that clinked loudly in protest. 
Pure rage began coursing through his veins and he began screaming a harsh, primitive cry of a warrior. 

“Where is he?  Where is that bastard, Darius?” he shouted and heard his voice echo as it carried down the tunnel.  He continue
d to yell and only stopped when footsteps were heard clapping against the hard, moist ground. 

In no time, a man with the blackest eyes Desmond had ever seen appeared before him and barked “Shut your damn mouth
now
, human!”

Being called
‘human’ gave Desmond a split-second of hesitation before he roared back at the black-eyed man in front of his cage.  “Fuck you and your master,
servant
!”

As soon as the word
servant
left Desmond’s lips, the man lifted his hands and flicked his wrist forward.  Desmond was yanked off his feet and flung into the far wall.  His mortal body smashed into stone and rock.  A howl knocked from his winded chest.

“I am no servant, Desmond the mortal,” he spat.  “I am Abraxas, a general in the army against humankind, your kind.”  Abraxas then turned on his heels and strode away, back down the long corridor.

Desmond remained where he was, his human body weak and brittle.  He was not used to being so fragile.  He was not accustomed to pain so intense.  It was foreign to him and unlike any he’d ever experienced.  How would he help Arianna as he was now?  Without his powers, he would not be able to help her.  He would not even be able to escape.  He was inept, completely useless to her and powerless to confront the coward who’d resorted to despicable methods to gain entry to her life.

Defeat sunk in his chest like lead.  He balled a fist and pounded it against the rough ground.  He was certain he’d split his knuckles and injured himself further, but he no longer cared.  What difference did it make?  He was being held prisoner and she was being manipulated by a loathsome impostor, the prince of lies himself.

Darius would seek to coerce her.  He would try to sway her to his side by any means possible.  He knew Arianna’s soul to be resilient and unsullied.  She was strong-willed and not easily influenced.  But that was just the kind of soul Darius viewed as bait.  He would attempt to break her, to shatter her spirit.  Judging from the insurmountable hurt she radiated through their linked depths, Darius had done considerable damage already.  He would stop at nothing to corrupt her life force.  And if he could not, he would kill her. 

Despair and desperation rolled like a wave atop itself,
faster and faster until it broke.  Desmond raised hands that trembled to his face and pressed his palms to his mouth then released a sound from an untold part of him that had long-since been buried beneath layers of energy and power but now lay exposed and vulnerable.  An earsplitting wail careened from his core with the steely reverberations of a bottomless echo as it hurled down the tunnel. 

In the tinny after
-effects of his bay, he vowed to reach Arianna if he had to dig a channel through the unyielding earth with his bare hands to get there.  He would save her.  And he would end Darius’ existence. 

Chapter 10

Veins of silver slithered through the windows, piercing the darkness.  A Liar’s Moon dangled in the navy heavens, round and heavy and ringed in opaque vapors, bleeding the night of its mystery and revealing secrets under its searching glow.
A Liar’s Moon; how fitting
, Arianna thought and felt her stomach clench.  The term was one her mother had often used when referring to a full moon masked by clouds or encircled by them.  She’d told Arianna that when the moon was obscured, as it currently was, it was a bad omen, and that stormy times lay ahead.  Arianna had always rolled her eyes at her mother’s idiotic superstitions.  Perhaps she’d been wrong all along.  Perhaps Cathy Rose had known more than she’d ever given her credit for.  The thought sent a pang of guilt through her freshly ruined heart. 

She wished her mother were alive.  Not because she would share with her what had happened or receive any sort of solace whatsoever.  Her mother would not
console her or make her tea.  She would not tell her everything was going to be all right.  Their relationship had never been like that.  But Arianna would have welcomed the distraction, of hearing her mother prattle at length about herself and whatever man she’d attached herself to.  Her metal bangle bracelets would rattle as she lifted cigarette-wielding fingers to her lips and she’d close her eyes as she drew a long breath of smoke.  She’d run a hand through her dyed-blonde hair and laugh.  Her mother would have been a timely, familiar diversion from the raw and ragged hole that had been punched through her chest.  But her mother was gone. 

She just sat on her bed, her back leaning against the wall, and stared. 
She did not know how long she’d been sitting as she was, did not know what time it was and did not care.  Her eyes burned and her throat was sore as it worked ceaselessly to strangle sobs that threatened.  The unthinkable had happened.  Desmond had betrayed her.  But she refused to shed another tear over him. 

Keeping tears at bay was proving to be a daunting exercise.  All her body seemed to want to do was cry.  An outpouring from her fractured heart overflowed the levees of her emotional control, lapping agains
t them in massive breakers.  A destructive current of pity and self-loathing bashed along with them.  But she continued to fight, to hold her ground.  She would not cry.  He had taken enough from her already.  She would not surrender another drop of herself to him.

Her skull felt as if it had been pistol-whipped.  Her heart didn’t feel much different.  In fact, every inch of her felt as if it had been beaten black and blue.  She would have preferred a beating over what she felt now, what she would feel for the rest of her days. 
Bodily wounds healed over time, sometimes leaving behind small, superficial scars as cautionary reminders.  Emotional wounds were not as easy to treat.  Salves and bandages could not treat deception, and the aftereffects of a broken heart were far more profound than a skin-deep mark.  Desmond’s legacy would forever be one of deceit. 

Desolation
corkscrewed in her gut, twisting so tightly she doubled over and clutched her midsection.  What had happened during the time he’d been gone?  The question flipped over in her mind again and again.  If she’d been asked a day and a half ago whether she believed him capable of such a horrendous deed, she would have vehemently defended his honor.  Desmond disgracing himself with infidelity, incestuous infidelity no less, would have been inconceivable.  Now, however,
infidelity
was the only word she could think when his name entered her thoughts; that and a few other choice words.  His name had become synonymous with a colorful array of obscenities. 

He had fallen from grace.  He was now a shadow of his former self. 
His angelic face had brought light to her darkest moments.  He had been her beacon.  Now he was a stain permanently imprinted on her soul, an encumbrance she would never be free of.  Despondency spiraled behind her navel.  She doubted it would ever go away.  She brought her knees up and hugged them against her chest.

She felt her body tip and begin to fall to the side
, sorrow dragging her to the mattress, when a soft knock at the door caused her to bolt upright.  She released her legs then allowed them to droop over the edge of the bed.  Her toes grazed the cold, hard flooring and every muscle stiffened, alert and ready to act.  The anxious knot in her stomach coiled tighter.  She gnashed her teeth together, clenching her jaw so tightly she thought her teeth would shatter.  Was it Desmond who’d knocked?  She wondered.  She did not want to see Desmond’s face, the face that once comforted her and inspired her.  She wanted to shout for him to go away, but did not trust her voice to hold out.  And she’d be damned if she let him see a single tear slip from her eyes.

Another knock sounded.  “Arianna,” Beth’s soft voice said from beyond the wooden door. 
She felt her muscles relax marginally.  “Arianna are you okay?  Shit, I know you’re not okay.  What a dumb question to ask,” she fumbled.  “Can I come in?”

Arianna paused for several beats then rose to her feet and
walked stiffly to the door.  She released the lock and twisted the doorknob, opening the door a fraction of an inch, then returned to her post in bed.  Beth opened the door carefully and peeked in first.  “Arianna,” she said warily.  She slid her hand along the wall, feeling for a light switch.  When she found it, she lifted the knob and the room was suddenly besieged by unforgiving light.  Arianna squinted and could barely make out Beth’s petite form as she padded across the room.  She stopped at the foot of the bed and eyed Arianna nervously.  “So, you wanna talk about it?” Beth asked and wrung her hands in front of her.

Arianna closed her eyes for a moment.  She wrestled with the urge to shut Beth out, to revert to her former ways. 
Less than a year ago, she hadn’t had a friend to confide in to the extent she’d confided in Beth, and she hadn’t had someone to love.  Sure, she’d had boyfriends through the years, but she’d always kept them at a safe distance.  As it turned out, she’d done it for good reason.  A part of her yearned for the safety of solitude, for a time when she’d placed her faith in no one but herself.  Being alone had been lonely at times.  But it had its benefits too, like never being let down.  The only person she had depended on had been her.  But she was not alone anymore.  And Beth still stood, waiting and rocking from her heels to the balls of her feet.

Arianna opened her eyes and sliced the air with her hand.  “Desmond was screwing her,” she said in a gravelly voice that sounded alien to her ears.  “He was screwing Amitt.”

For reasons she could not pinpoint, saying it aloud solidified what had happened, validated it. Hearing her voice, as foreign as it had sounded, say the words, feeling her lips form around them before they tumbled from her mouth, managed to make it truer somehow. 

Beth’s eyes rounded
and supported her theory.  “What?” she asked incredulously.  “His cousin?” the expression she wore looked as if she’d just been punched in the gut by a ham-fisted ogre, which, incidentally, was exactly how Arianna felt. 

“Yep,” Arianna nodded slowly. 

“H-how do you know?” Beth squeezed her hands so tightly her knuckles whitened. 

“I walked in on them,” Arianna enunciated each word and heard them ring with harsh, stabbing truth.  Her hand instinctively clutched the left side of her
chest, as if her hand were seeking to physically hold her heart together.

“I-I-I don’t even know what to say,” Beth stammered.  “There are no words
.”  Her head swiveled back and forth, oscillating like a fan, as she processed what she’d just heard.  Arianna was all too familiar with that feeling.  Beth shifted her weight from one leg to the other, still twisting her hands.  Her bottom lip jutted and she blew a puff of air that lifted her dark bangs.  “I know there’s something I should say here.  I just don’t know what it is.  Shit, I suck at this,” she mumbled under her breath.