Of Light and Darkness (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Princess

Charlotte lay there, in the smallest, crumpled ball she could possibly form, under the thick bedclothes. Her eyes stung from crying so much, but she couldn’t stop. The tears continued to freefall. There wasn’t enough energy to sob. She’d barely made a noise in the last few hours. All she could focus on was how many ways she could give up.

Valek was surely dead, because the guards had caught up to them by now. And no matter how many times the moon took its place in the sky, he was never going to wake up again. She hugged her knees even tighter to her chest. Helpless, she thought of Valek’s wife then. All she could do was pray.

It was completely foreign and unfamiliar, yet she folded her hands together in front of her face. “This prayer is for Valek’s wife,” she began. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, but if you can, I pray for Valek’s safety. I pray we will be reunited.” She stopped praying. It felt silly to be talking to no one. She pulled her whistle from her blouse and put it to her lips, blowing on it very softly.

The chamber door behind her, cracked open. She shuddered when she heard it, knowing immediately who approached. Footsteps made their way toward the bed. She shut her eyes tight again, willing the world to disappear from around her.

“Charlotte?”

His voice was tender and kind. That absolutely enraged her.

“Lottie?”

“Don’t you call me that!” she screamed, rearing up on the bed to face him. “Don’t you
dare
call me that!” She lunged at the Elf, her fists hurdling high in the air. She swung for his face but clumsily missed and fell into his arms. “I don’t ever want to hear that name again.” She sobbed.

“The ceremony is this night, Charlotte. You’re going through with this, so I suggest you prepare.” Aiden’s voice was considerably more like stone this time.

She glared up into his face. “I want you to
die
.” She sent a wad of spit flying directly between his eyes.

He furiously shoved her back onto the bed and wiped at his face. “Charlotte, don’t make this harder on yourself. This will happen by will or by force. It is your choice.” He left the room, immediately replaced by the ever jubilant Meredith Price.

Charlotte looked at the vial Meredith was carrying, eyes widening.

“Good morning, my dear.” She beamed. “It is almost your wedding night!” She began to approach the bed.

“No.” Charlotte backed away steadily on her hands and knees. “I won’t let you!”

“Don’t worry, my love. This is not going to hurt one bit. Mama is going to make it better.” Charlotte fought with all her might. Meredith violently clasped Charlotte’s jaw and forced it open. She squirmed under the large Elf’s weight as Meredith poured the contents—not liquid, but something more like a colored smoke—down Charlotte’s throat.

“That’s a good girl. You’ll like being a royal. You’ll like it almost as much as I will.” She grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “And this line on your hand? I put it there when you were a child. You were the only one my Aiden wanted, and I decided to take
fate
into my own hands.” She giggled as she bounced out of the chamber.

Charlotte heard the lock on the other side of the door click shut. She leapt from the bed and ran to it, tearing her fingers into the wood until her nail beds began to bleed. She screamed for someone, anyone to set her free. She pounded and fought until she was just too tired, and sank to her knees. She pressed her forehead against the cool wood and a sob finally broke from her chest. She wrapped her tattered hand around the whistle. Sarah said it would protect her. She lied.

Charlotte forced herself to drag her body back toward the bed, but she hardly made it. She threw just her upper half over the mattress, her legs remaining on the floor, and buried her face in the bed covers. If she kept it there long enough, she would suffocate. But something hazy began to react behind her eyes. Her violent thoughts became elusive, distant pictures. She pictured Valek’s face, and she grabbed onto the bedclothes tighter, as if trying to hang on to the image.

The scar on her neck began to burn again. Charlotte screamed and pulled her whole body up onto the bed. The pain was worse this time. And what was more, the pain just wasn’t at her throat, but at the base of her skull and behind her eyes.
The potion
. What had Meredith Price given her? She screamed again, trying to dig her forehead deeper into the covers. “Valek!” She screamed as the cloudy image slowly started to disappear and burning pain was replaced with the feeling of cool pools of water. Her body relaxed. She opened her mouth to say his name again, but it did not come out. She couldn’t remember how to even form the word.

She licked her lips and blinked, lifting her head to view the room again.
It was beautiful
, she thought. The bed was dressed in fine, Egyptian cotton, and the drapes and tapestries along the wall were velvet and gold leaf. The image of the Gryphon was depicted everywhere; in the table carvings, the bed legs, the artwork. She rolled over onto her back, a strange emotion filling her chest. There was someone she thought of, but she could not see a face. It was someone she loved. Really loved. She blinked at the ceiling. Funny. Had she always lived there? She became very still and quiet.

***

Aiden, who had been listening all the while just on the other side of the door, unlocked it and remained still, listening for any sort of stirring. There was none. He opened the door completely and emerged through the threshold to see Charlotte lying peacefully in the center of the bed. She appeared to be sleeping. He slowly approached her, careful. He sat just on the edge of it and lightly touched her curls with the ends of his fingers.

Her eyes fluttered open. Her head rolled to one side as she looked at him. Her green eyes were wide and confused as they danced about the features on his face. But then the confusion softened into a smile. She remembered his face. “Is it you?” she asked.

“Yes.” Aiden smiled. “Yes, it’s me.”

She smiled wider and sat up. “Then, I love you,” she said confidently.

“And I love you, Charlotte.” He brought his hand under her chin and kissed her lightly. His mother’s medicine worked, as always. As long as she never saw the Vampire’s face again, she would never remember. Aiden would take his queen that night, and the entire magical realm would be his and Charlotte’s. Ruled by light. Darkness condemned. “But you are very tired.”

She frowned and dropped her gaze. “Yes. I am,” she agreed. But something flickered at the forefront of her mind. “But there is something I want.”

Aiden’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Anything.”

“I-I want to see the sun…” she began. “I haven’t seen it in such a long time.”

Aiden smiled, relieved. “Absolutely, my love.” He stood from the bed and offered his hand. “It hasn’t come over the horizon yet. We will watch it rise together.”

Charlotte beamed and bounced from the bed, taking his hand. They began to walk out of the room. She looked down, shocked at the grunginess of her dress, the bloody scabs on her knees. She noticed then the throbbing pain in her hands as well.

“What happened to me?” She looked horrified at Aiden. She let his hand go and touched the caked mud on her clothes. “I’m hurt.”

He panicked slightly, grabbing her hand again. “Nothing happened to you, my love. It was a very difficult journey to get you here.”

“Why? Where did I come from?” she asked.

“The gates of Hell,” he muttered under his breath, and continued to lead her out of the chamber.

***

The coven emerged from the dense thicket of evergreens. With his head lifted to the looming dawn, Valek could see the bony, white fingers of the sun’s rays clawing out from the underside of the earth. The clearing ahead was long, and just at the foot of the hill, he could see clearly the shapes of ancient mausoleums scattered about the small cemetery.

Sarah valiantly patted Mr. Třínožka on the back. “Never wrong.”

“Quickly now,” Francis instructed.

The group moved fast down the side of the hill. Lusian and Sasha took off at their fastest speed to secure themselves in the nearest grave. Valek could feel the onslaught of the morning pains begin again. He held onto the image of Charlotte in his mind as he and the rest raced the sun.

Francis used his slate-colored arms to pry open the doors of a small, stone grave guarded by a large granite angel in the center of the cemetery. Valek looked at it, too, recognizing it as Ezekiel, angel of death and new beginnings. The angel’s stony finger pointed left, to an empty grave. Valek sprang for it just as the sun began to stretch over the tops of the trees, his limbs already becoming stiff and ashy. As he pulled the heavy door closed, locking himself in darkness, he could clearly make out the vision of Andela, standing in the middle of the cemetery. She spun about, searching for something.

“Andela!” Valek called from the crevice. “What are you doing?”

She stopped and looked at him.

“Come! Now!” he called again. “You will die!”

She panicked. “My wedding band! It dropped in the grass!”

“Andela! You are going to burn!”

She turned her face, now deeply sunken and grey toward the white light overtaking the sky. Flames exploded first from her chest and then her face as she started sprinting for Valek.

He reached his arm out to her as far as he could, but any movement at all was becoming increasingly difficult. He could see her jet eyes now emerging from her burning face. He reached farther, grabbing onto her hand, and pulled her inside. He slammed the door shut against the light, exhausted. His head rolled back against the rock surface of the inside wall.

“Andela.” He breathed. “Are you all right?” But when he opened his eyes to look at her, he saw she had been too late. Her once flawless, angelic face was reduced to ashes. Her exposed jawbone stayed eternally open in a silent scream, her eyes staring horrified at him. His shoulders dropped as he buried his face in his hands. “Andela….” He reached out to stroke her blonde hair, now course and gray. “Say hello to your husband for me. Help me to see my love again as well.” He leaned back, and closed his eyes.

***

Charlotte eagerly leaned over the palace balcony as she watched the morning climb higher and higher into the sky. It felt like she had lived her whole life and had never seen the sun. It was so glorious and life giving. She squinted, shadowing her eyes with her hand as it gradually shown brighter and painted the sky a brilliant October gold. She shivered a little, despite its warmth; Aiden removed his double-breasted jacket and covered her shoulders with it.

He bent to whisper in her ear. “It’s beautiful.”

She smiled. “It reminds me of you. It always has.”

Aiden was slightly taken back by that statement. “Really?”

She nodded and hugged his jacket tighter. “Yes. Because it’s the same color as your hair. And it is…opposite from…the moon.” She frowned. “The sun is warm and…the moon is…not.” Something else flickered at her mind.

Aiden swallowed and placed his hand at the small of her back. “Right. Well, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Confused, she let him lead her away from the balcony. She turned back before going inside, looking over her shoulder once more at the sky. Just in time, she was able to see the large face of the moon. Silver, fading against the light of the sun, about to disappear back under the horizon. But it would come up again, she reminded herself. It always did.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bloodlust

The smell of burning wood spiraled through his lungs when Valek finally awoke. Smoke crept in through the thin, stone crevices of the mausoleum. He pushed quickly off the slanted wall where he had been resting and with all his might, pulled the door back to reveal winding orange flames billowing high into the stars. Panicking, he bolted from the small grave, dodging through the fire.

“Valek!” Sasha called out. He had just awoken as well, crawling from his own crypt.

“Help me get the others! We have to get out of here!” Valek commanded, ducking under a burning tree limb to pull the doors open to the center crypt where Francis rested. “Francis!”

I’m here
, Francis’ mind answered him. He pushed the stone apart from the inside and grabbed onto Valek’s arms to get above ground.

“They must have found out we were here. The entire forest is burning,” Valek said.

Sarah crawled out from the grave as well, coughing up the smoke.

“Sarah,” Francis began. “Which way do we continue?”

“We have to go northeast. I’ll get rid of the fire, but we need to hurry,” she finished, before she started running for the edge of the field.

Valek and Francis darted through the graveyard to help the rest of the coven to safety. The smoke would have been blinding for any human or animal, but they saw right through it. As Valek ran to help Lusian, something gold glinted in the smoldering grass by the base of the Ezekiel statue. He grabbed for it. Andela’s lost wedding band. He stopped, turning back to glance at the mausoleum where he’d left her resting.

“Valek! Come on! Sarah’s spell is about to wear off!” Francis called, as the rest of the coven had been resurrected. Valek could also see the silhouette of the large spider on the other side of the flame walls. He had already made it out. Valek turned back to where Andela was, held the ring up and nodded at her, and put it in his pocket. He leapt through the opening in the flames, but the icy blue eyes of his coven did not meet him this time.

“Valek, run!” He heard Sarah scream out.

His gaze circled around the embers, searching for her face. One by one, fire Elves emerged from all corners of the perishing graveyard. Each one had a dour grin about their slanted faces as they set their eyes on the only Vampire left in the burning field.

Valek took off like a condor in flight. He burst through the flame walls. Valek felt them pursuing close behind him. Out of one corner of his eye, he saw a ball of flames rip through the trees toward his head, then another, Panicking, he switched directions—the entire forest melting together into the same tree. The flames continued to fly around him. But there was no way to escape them. He suddenly skidded to a stop in the mud and mulch. He looked up to see the army of Regime guards had slowed also, but were ever approaching.

The head officer grinned maliciously, fists blazing at his sides. “Your Charlotte is dead, Vampire.”

Valek searched the Elf’s thoughts and found what he said was indeed true. He was not lying. His chest sank to his spine. His heart to his stomach. “Say again, Elf?”

“The Lord Vladislov killed her. However, it is such a pleasure to see you again.”

The forest around Valek spun as he stumbled backward onto a tree trunk. The deep indigo shades of the night only looked black and gray now. He opened his mouth, gazing at the muddy floor that seemed to suck him under. No cries ripped from him. No lamenting bellows escaped his jaws to linger in the tree canopies. No ruby tears buried themselves in the dirt below his face.

“What did you expect? She was human, living in the underworld. How did you ever believe she would survive?” The fire Elf continued, growing ever nearer to Valek.

Valek shut his eyes against the world, clutching the bark to keep him there. How could this be the vision Sarah had seen? Gone? How could she who had been there for too short a time be gone? He opened his eyes again, and though the infantry now stood just before him, he did not see them. But he would see her again, he decided, and held his arms out to them. If they killed him, then he would fight the armies existing in heaven so he might see her there.

“There, Vampire.” The officer snapped shackles closed across Valek’s wrists. “This will all be over very shortly.”

“Valek!” A small voice cried out somewhere from behind the Elves. “Don’t listen! It’s a trap!”

Valek’s eyes widened. “Charlotte?”

“They are lying, Valek. They are using magic to guard their thoughts from you!”

He peered around the officer to see Sarah in the shadows atop the spider. A wave of true reality punched him in the ribs. He turned on the Elf in front of him, the cold flesh in his face an entirely different shade of gray. His pupils swallowed the rest of his eyes in a consciousless void and an enormous roar, like a demon escaping hell, tore open the Elf’s inner ear.

The platoon turned at once on their heels and started retreating in the direction they came. Valek tore the shackles from his wrists, sending the splinters flying out around him as he trailed them now. He leapt from trunk to branch, and back to the earth, until he caught up. The guard was just in front of him. Valek reached out one of his claws and tore into the Elf’s shoulder blade.

He cried out as Valek sent him flying headfirst into a large pine so hard it cracked the guard’s skull. He was dead on impact, but Valek continued for the rest.

The officer at the front of the pack wheeled around, sending a large fireball in his direction. Valek ducked as the thing flew just over his head. His eyes were fixed on the next one in front. He leapt at him like a wolf as they tumbled through the dirt. Valek ended up on top as they stopped against the face of a boulder.

He bent down, ripping out the jugular, careful not to swallow any of the Elf blood. He leapt up again and continued, aiming for his next victim, until one of the officer’s flames did finally strike him. Valek rolled down one of the hill banks in the dark woods, the flames spiraling with him. They went out in the dirt as his back slammed against a very large oak. Valek breathed, the humanity returning once again to his body. He turned his muddy face to the sky just as it opened up.

The remaining squadron advanced down the hill where he fell.

Valek’s vision started to refocus. He could see amongst the platoon was his coven.

All of them had been captured, including Edwin and the Phaser. He looked at each of them sorrowfully.

I'm sorry, Valek. We tried
, Francis thought.

“Let’s go.” The officer leaned into Valek, reshackling him with silver this time. It burned lightly at the flesh by his wrists as they pulled him up and led him to the hill toward Prague.

***

Charlotte, once again, had been locked within her bedchambers, forbidden to see Aiden before the wedding. They’d spent the entire day together in the vast gardens surrounding the Regime palace. That morning the maids of the palace had removed all of her dingy clothing and scrubbed her from head to toe in a lavender and gold-leaf bath. She couldn’t remember the last bath she had taken. They had tried to remove the whistle around her neck, but something deep within made her refuse to take it off. She held onto it tightly, even now as she sat clean, wrapped in nothing but the red sheets of the bed.

She held the thing close to her face, studying the details in it. The lion with dueling tails—the national symbol for Prague—was etched in fine detail on one side.

She thought of Prague, then; the city just outside the palace walls, the towering spires seeming to meet the moon in the sky every night—forbidden lovers. She saw the golden light cast by the many lamps that lined the street. She had been born there, she thought. It was a vision in her very distant past. She was quite small, she remembered, and lying on her back. It was cold, and she was watching the stars in the sky twinkling down at her. Someone had left her there, she distantly recalled as she continued to turn the whistle over and over in her hand.

There were lots of people around. A lot of human people like her. She remembered seeing nothing but their feet as they walked past her. But there was something else in her memory. A pair of hands. She thought of the moon again. These hands looked like the face of an oyster, pearl-like in essence. They were long, and slender, and cool, and when they slid underneath her back, they made her shiver.

She shivered once under the sheets of the bed, though the room was not cold. It was just the mere memory of those hands. She remembered seeing the moon’s face then, in the sky. The moon was lifting her off the ground to meet him in the sky. She knew it sounded crazy in her own mind, but the memory was very real. This necklace was a part of that. It was the symbol of the city. It was the darkness about the city. She frowned again.

She turned the whistle over and saw the small, cursive letters etched in the back.
For Charlotte
, it read. She squinted at it and repeated the words in her mind. This meant something to her. She knew it. She yawned. It felt like she had always had it and couldn’t bear to ever lose it. Her thoughts were spinning. This necklace belonged to whoever those hands belonged to.

She strung the necklace back around her neck as her eyes grew more and more heavy with the late hour. Her fingers touched something on her flesh. It felt raised, and a little tender. She followed it up and down, in a slight curve along her neck. A scar? From what? She lay back with her head on the large pillows, her damp, red hair messy about her face, her fingers still to her neck. Perhaps more would come to her later. Now, she needed to focus on the wedding.