Flawless//Broken (23 page)

“Look.”

Natasha’s face is sour, her gaze focused on me. When our eyes meet, she looks away quickly, pretending to be interested in the chandelier.

“She looks like she sucked a lemon,” Lake says, practically wheezing. “She’s been training for months for this, and you waltz in and show her up in two seconds without any practice? It’s hilarious.”

I feel bad, but only for a second, because then she shoots me an even nastier look than before. Before I can go over to her and apologize, Lake pulls me to his side.

“Whoops, look alive. A horde of possibly-zombified dudes with a lot of money headed this way.”

The crowd parts for three older men - their hair graying and suits sharp. One of them extends their hand to me.

“Ms. Redfield, it’s an honor to finally meet you. That was quite an impressive display.”

“Thanks,” I say, looking at his diamond cufflinks. These guys are loaded, and too-polite, but all that does it make me uncomfortable. Every alchemist I’ve met so far makes me uncomfortable. Will that matter at all to Rose and the Sage Council?

As the three men make polite small talk around me, asking me where exactly I’m from, and how I’m enjoying the party, I notice one of their faces. My stomach nearly drops through my body - he’s one of the Mutus guys who restrained me outside the warehouse. I squeeze Lake’s hand behind my dress, and he looks to me, confused. I flicker my eyes to the man, smiling at a joke one of the others makes, trying desperately to convey the warning. Lake gets some of it - his eyes turning hard and his nod sharp. My heart’s beating so fast I barely hear the ballroom music starting up again. But I do feel the arm lace around my waist. I look over and it’s Darius.

“Gentlemen,” He says to the three older guys. “Allow me to steal her for a moment.”

It’s a request, but Darius stares at the men with flinty amber eyes, as if daring them to protest. They stare back, faces carefully blank. Finally, the guy who introduced himself to me first nods.

“Of course. How selfish of us to keep her for this long, when she’s wanted by so many?”

I can’t tell if he’s hinting at the Mutus wanting me, too, but before I can dwell on it, Darius steers me towards the dancefloor. Lake winks at me as I pass.

I’m suddenly five hundred times more nervous dancing with him than I was with Antonio. I put my hand in his, and his palm on the small of my back is somehow comforting. The heat and scent radiating from his chest is practically dizzying. I can’t look him in the eyes as we move.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, voice low. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m trying extremely hard,” I mutter. “Not to step on your feet.”

He smirks. “I won’t feel it. Much. That’s one of the only perks of being a homunculus.”

We’re quiet, letting the music and our dance speak instead. Darius moves with the grace of a leopard hunting at midnight - his movements sleek and graceful, but with a raw power behind them. I barely need to think at all - I just follow his lead, and my steps are likewise smooth. He dips me down, and I’m suddenly keenly aware of how hard my chest is pressed against his.

“Those men,” Darius looks into my eyes, holding me barely above the ground. “You looked scared of them.”

He pulls me up, and we lilt into the dance again.

“I - I think I saw them at the warehouse,” I say. “One of them, at least.”

“You think? Or you are certain?”

“I’m sure,” I correct. “I got a good look at a couple guys’ faces. The one with the diamond cufflinks was definitely one of them.”

Darius’s eyes narrow. I realize everyone in the room has been staring at us - secretly, of course, from behind drinks and over other people’s shoulders. They look disgusted, and wary, like we’re doing something obscene instead of just dancing. Rose looks especially frothy, but she doesn’t move to stop us.

“They hate it when I join in the festivities,” Darius murmurs, noticing my gaze. “Instead of quietly staying in the shadows. It reminds them I have a free will, instead of being the Sage Council’s chained dog.”

“Screw them,” I snap. “They don’t know anything about anything. Do what makes you happy.”

Darius whirls me around, then pulls me back to him, pinning my chest tight against his. We’re so close I can see the streaks of copper - exactly the color of prima materia - in his golden eyes. He leans in, his lips inches away from touching mine and our gazes locked. I can’t think, or move. In the chandelier light he’s so undeniably handsome and close I can barely breathe. The music fades, the people fade, the only thing left his aching expression and the hardness of his body against mine.

He leans further in, to my ear.

“I can never do what makes me happy,” He murmurs.

“Wh-Why not?”

I feel his fingers tighten on my hips oh-so-slightly, and suppress the shiver that runs through me.

“Because it would get people hurt.”

His expression bleeds pain. Before I know what I’m doing, I reach up and gently cup his face with my hand. “Maybe some people like being hurt.”

The moment stretches on forever - Darius staring into me and me staring back, hoping he realizes I’m one of those people. Hoping, beyond hope, that he’ll be the one to buy me and take me home. It hits me in that moment - I don’t want any other alchemist. I want Darius, as fucked-up and arrogant as he is. I want Darius, as beautiful and damned as he is.

I want Darius, and no one else.

***

1493 France - Reign of Charles the VIII

The fisherman thought it odd a man so handsome would want to go to Sawtooth Island. It was a barren spot of land nestled between the most dangerous currents this side of south France. The fisherman thought it even stranger the handsome man wasn’t paying him for a return trip. He told the handsome man he wouldn’t be able to get off the island any other way, and the man said he knew that. He was dour, a dark sadness festering in his eyes, but the tragedy surrounding him wasn’t enough to dull his clear good looks. He was from a Renaissance painting - all white-gold hair and alabaster skin, broad shoulders and narrow hips. He belonged in the court, at the Queen’s side. But here he was, asking a humble fisherman for a ride to the most barren island of them all.

The fisherman was hesitant - he’d heard tales the island was once a popular place for nobles to retreat to when shamed. They ultimately committed suicide or died of starvation and thirst. It was a haunted island, no place for a man who looked to be an angel descended from heaven.

But the angel carried a heavy sack of gold the fisherman could not refuse. He had mouths to feed and repairs to make. Even when the handsome man, who insisted the fisherman call him Darius, hauled a coffin onboard the ship, the fisherman could not refuse. Darius retained a curious ability to compel him - if not through pity, than through wealth.

The trip was dangerous and rough, and more than one time the fisherman thought they would capsize and sink below the waves. But his years of experience guided them in one piece to the rocky east shore of Sawtooth. The fisherman offered to help Darius with unloading the coffin, but Darius refused, picking up the entire thing under one arm. It had to be empty, the fisherman thought, and as he weighed anchor, he watched Darius disappear into the copse of withered elm trees. It was undoubtedly the last he would see of the beautiful man.

Darius worked his way through the sparse forest. Every leaf was black and sickly, the pine needles lacing the ground ragged and red. The birds were all crows, and there were only birds. No other creature had enough voracious curiosity to overcome their fear of death and venture to this place. Monoliths of mold-covered rocks created nooks and crannies, and Darius soon found a suitable cave. It wasn’t deep, but it went far enough back to shield him from the weak gray sun.

Darius put the coffin gently in the very back. He withdrew four silver daggers from his hip and cut four pieces of his hair. Wrapping each piece around a dagger handle, he sunk them blade-first into the rocks. Granite should’ve bent the silver, but Darius had alchemized them to cut through anything less hard than a diamond. With a single word, all four dagger handles leapt with flame, illuminating the cave in flickering shadow.

Carefully, slowly, Darius opened the lid of the coffin.

Inside rested Amelie, her face ashen and her body thinning as water left her corpse. Her hair, though, was as luminous as ever, and her lips strangely retained their petal-pink hue. A puff of cold air wafted up. The inside of the coffin was lined with prima materia alchemized to keep it cool.

Darius reached a hand out and stroked her cheek. Her eyes were closed, her skin frigid, but soon he would reverse that. Soon, she would be warm and living and in his arms once again.

The preparations were long, and arduous. It took Darius two weeks to set up the proper runes on the cave walls - written in saffron and red clay. He dressed Amelie in a white shift, a thick collar of prima materia around her slender neck. For each day she had been dead, Darius caught and slaughtered a crow, placing one feather from each animal in her hair, until there were thirty-seven of them crowding her beautiful locks. He bathed himself in saltwater and drank only saltwater, his body expressing all impurities over a painful three days. He refused any and all Azoth, the hunger gnawing at him like a pack of rabid dogs.

He had followed Nicholas Flamel’s every direction. Though his teacher, creator, and father never told Darius how to make other homunculi, he had taught him how to study the past. The Egyptians had long endeavored to raise the dead, but had never succeeded. Nicholas had, through his own talent. Talent he had trained into Darius for many years.

Sawtooth Island was the only place he’d ever attempt this - the strong currents and lack of food meant if the experiment went wrong and he created a monster too dangerous for the world, it would never get off this accursed place. He would live out his days with the monster until he died from the hunger, if it didn’t kill him first. This was his punishment - humans couldn’t bring justice upon him, so he would bring it upon himself.

Darius knelt on the stone floor, one dagger gripped in his hand. His knuckles were white, his hands trembled as he brought the dagger tip to rest above his heart. Nicholas’ kindly face appeared in his minds eye, his voice echoing in Darius’ head.

‘A sacrifice must always be given willingly.’

It would hurt, Darius thought. This would hurt. But it would never compare to the pain of living without her for the rest of his life.

The cave floor greedily drank the blood. The heart beat in the copper bowl for far too long, and then went cold.

PART FOURTEEN

FOURTEEN

Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

The dance ends too soon. Darius’s warm hands leave my waist, and my palm. His face is unreadable - a mask of iron and granite, the same face I saw him with at the club. We part, and Darius doesn’t look at me as he leaves through the crowd. What did I say? Did I do something wrong?

Lake saves me from agonizing over my mistakes by poking my side.

“Hey! Nice footwork! You managed to piss a ton of people in here off
and
look fabulous while doing it. I’m your new biggest fan.”

I scan the crowd, tip-toeing to catch a glimpse of where Darius went. Lake waves his hand in my face.

“Hellooo?”

I blink and look at him. “Sorry. Darius just - do you think he’s alright? He looked really mad at me.”

“Him and everyone else in this room,” Lake smirks. “C’mon, let’s get a drink before someone slaps you.”

He leads me to the refreshment table, and pours me a cup of punch. I drink the cool liquid greedily. This room is baking hot, mostly from all the gazes suddenly riveted to me.

“Remind me again why everyone’s pissed with me?” I ask.

“You’re supposed to ignore Darius, not get him to dance with you.”

“I couldn’t ignore Darius if I wanted to.”

Lake smirks broader. “I can tell. Look, don’t worry about it, okay? He gets moody. Just let him go. He’s probably got some angst to work through, and it’s better if he does it alone.”

“You don’t even try to help?”

“Oh, I’ve tried. But it doesn’t end well.”

I knit my brows and turn just in time to come face-to-face with Rose, her face twisted with anger.

“Ms. Redfield? May I speak to you in private for a moment?”

I look to Lake, who shrugs in an
‘I-can’t-save-you’
way. I sigh and follow Rose as she leads me deeper into the chateau, beyond the main room. A hall with a dozen mahogany doors waits, and Rose opens one and motions for me to go in. The room is beautiful - blood-red carpet and gilded white walls giving off an air of royalty. Rose closes the door behind her and under her matronly glare I instantly feel the need to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Rose, but I’m not going to ignore him like everyone else.”

“He’s a homunculus,” Rose says, steely resolve in every inch of her voice and posture.

“And I’m half-Puerto Rican,” I say. “But that doesn’t have any bearing on who I am as a person.”

“Homunculi are monsters,” Rose snaps. “Not people. I don’t hate him for who he is. I hate him for what he’s done.”

“You mean the fact he made them. I’m guessing one of the homunculus killed your sister, not him.”

Rose’s eyes flash, and she opens her mouth to say something just as the door swings open behind her. Before I can blink, the guy with the diamond cufflinks walks in, his smile focused on me.

“Good evening, Rose.”

Rose turns, her frown turning barely neutral. “Mr. Cunningham, please. I know you’ve placed your bid, but the Sage Council isn’t making a decision tonight. It will take a few days. For now, please return to the party.”