Symphony of Light and Winter (33 page)

Michael stepped aside as I threw myself on Cyril’s body and tried to revive him.

“Cyril, please. Tell me you lied. Tell me this isn’t it. Please.”

“No, Linden, you’ll be free.”

Blood started to coat his lips and seeped ever so slightly from the wound in his chest. I peppered his face with kisses.

I placed both hands on either side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. He was too weak to even touch me. “Cyril, please. There has got to be something I can do.”

“No, Light. You’ll be free. You won’t even remember me. But for these next few moments, know you are all I’ve ever loved.”

My heart seized. “I love you, Cyril. Don’t leave me.”

The commotion from below continued.

Michael stood over me. “Linden, don’t think this is over. I’ll find a way.”

Lance’s shout interrupted the moment. “Michael! What the fuck? What did you feed her? I could use your help down here.”

As Lance’s last words hit the air I planted both hands around the hilt of the dagger and in one continuous movement, pulled it free from Cyril’s chest, held it high above my head, and swung around just as Michael turned to face Lance. I planted the dagger firmly in his back.

“No! No! No! No, Linden, don’t!”

It took a moment for me to realize it was Cyril screaming, but I didn’t have time to find out why because I still held the dagger when a bolt of energy hit me. I was being electrocuted. Letting go of the knife proved impossible. Jolt after jolt assaulted my body until the final surge caused me to collapse to the ground. The knife clattered to the stage in slow motion as my senses returned. What was once Michael’s body was now only fine, silica-like dust.

I couldn’t move for a few moments, and then Overton yelled, “Bloody hell! What is she? I could use a little help over here.”

Lance called out, “I’m trying, man. She’s too fucking strong. Whoa, shit! Did you just see what happened to Michael?”

In gurgling, choked-out words Overton responded, “No. Little busy here, friend.”

I picked up the knife and stood.

Below, in the orchestra section was Eva, hair tangled and mouth bloody. The three of them were in an all-out brawl. She had Overton by the throat as Lance tried to pull her arms free.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be kick-ass?” Lance groaned as he threw more weight into his efforts. “Try kneeing her in the balls. Well, you know what I mean.” Lance used every ounce of strength in trying to remove Eva as he shouted suggestions to Overton.

Overton kicked but it didn’t dissuade her. She snarled, then threw her head forward and took a bite out of Overton’s shoulder. “Bollocks! This nutter bites hard.”

I couldn’t waste any more time. I wanted to go back to Cyril, but Overton and Lance were losing the battle. I couldn’t lose Overton too.

With the knife in hand, I jumped from the stage, thankful that I did not impale myself before I ran at Eva.

Lance moved out of my way, and with my free hand I tried to pull her from Overton. Her teeth were still buried deep in his shoulder.

“Eva, get off him. Stop this right now!” She didn’t stop choking him but she released her bite and pivoted her head toward me, spraying my face with droplets of Overton’s blood.

“I’m sorry.” With those final words I plunged the knife into her abdomen, yanking the blade upward forcefully. In my own chest I felt the pain, not of the knife, but of the grief and regret of my unfortunate but necessary actions.

Eva’s ear-piercing scream was not one of pain, but unadulterated fury. Her hands released Overton’s throat. He gasped for breath. She lunged for me. I dodged her attack and pulled the knife out and stabbed it into her chest. Her warm blood ran free and coated the blade and my hands. The sticky texture made me ill.

She didn’t disintegrate like Michael. She made inhuman, agonizing cries that inflamed nerves beneath my skin. Overton maneuvered himself from under her and she took several more gasping breaths.

I turned and pointed the knife toward Lance. “I’ll fucking kill you if you make one move.”

“Whoa, Linden. It’s cool. I’m cool. You saved me. I’m on your side. Put the knife down.”

I eyed him with suspicion for several moments, when Overton spoke through pain-clinched teeth, “Linden, he tried to help me. It’s OK.”

I made one last glance over my shoulder to make sure Lance hadn’t moved, then I threw my arms around Overton and helped hoist him into a sitting position.

I cupped his face, smearing it with blood and stared into his eyes, searching. “Are you OK? I mean I know you’re not, but…”

“Linden, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” He pulled me in closer, wrapping his arms around me.

I pulled back to make eye contact once more. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Linden.”

I slapped him hard across the cheek. “Why the fuck did you let him do it?”

Overton said nothing.

I ran fast to the stage, all the while hoping to see something different. I hoped to hear him say
you didn’t really think I’d do something so stupid, did you?

But in slow motion, with each step my heart shattered a little bit more. He was still on the floor. He no longer breathed, and the blood oozing from the wound in his chest pooled, leaving a pattern on the wooden slats of the floor.

“N-no.”

Fierce sobs shook my body. My uncontrolled wails echoed through the hall and ricocheted back to taunt me.

“How could you do this? Why didn’t you just leave it alone?”

My anger and grief fought for control. I lay my head on his chest and the absence of his heartbeat sent another crippling wave of devastation through me.

The stairs creaked; I looked up at Overton through pools of tears.

“How could you let him do this?” A sob escaped my throat.

He moved behind me, knelt down, and wrapped his arms around me.

“Linden, Cyril never took orders from anyone. Besides, I would have done the same for you. I can’t fault him.”

“But he’ll come back, right? He didn’t turn to dust. This is all a big joke on Michael, right?”

“No, Linden. Cyril is energy, not flesh. It all happens differently.”

Overton being so calm and collected pissed me off.

“Aren’t you even upset?” I turned to look at him. What I saw shut me up.

“Yes, more than you can ever know. He is lost to me too, but I made him a promise and I understand his sacrifice. That needs to be my focus now.”

The pain in Overton’s eyes was real, and I didn’t want to make it harder on him. I glanced back to Cyril and then turned to bury my head in Overton’s chest.

“Bring him back. Make this all go away.”

“I can’t.”

My chest shook with each breath as I tried to calm my hysteria. I sniffled and looked up at Overton.

“Can I have a minute?”

“Sure.” He stood and kissed my forehead as he rose. That only made things worse since it reminded me of Cyril.

I crawled over against Cyril’s body and brushed the hair from his brow. “You stupid fucking son of a bitch.”

My tears fell from my face and onto his. The frequency and number falling caused pools to fill his eyes, and he cried silent tears in death as they overflowed and ran into his hair. I bent and kissed the wetness on his skin, allowing my lips to linger as the grief gripped my body.

“What am I going to do without you?” I whispered into ears I knew would not hear me.

More devastating sobs shook me as the remaining fragments of my world shattered.

The realization hit when I pulled back and stared into his wide dead eyes. The souls.
Who was going to deliver souls from now on?

* * *

I didn’t move from Cyril’s side until the rest of the family arrived. Leaving him wasn’t an option. Ignoring everyone, two predominant thoughts ran through my head. He seemed so certain I would forget him. Why hadn’t I? If he failed and would awaken, would I go unconscious at any moment?

Anesthetic oblivion was welcome, but too slow in coming.

The men chattered about various things and soon enough I found myself in the path of a large shadow. I cracked open my eyes to see Rhys looking at me.

“Sweetheart, we have to move him. Do you need me to help you up?”

“No, I’ll do it.” I wiped my arm across my face to remove the wetness. Drained of physical energy, I could barely move. The excruciating jolt I received from Michael had slowly turned everything to numbness. As I stood, the dull sensation faded and the pain returned.

Maybe it was the beginning of the illness that would take me to Cyril, if his theory was true.

As I used my arms to balance myself, Rhys extended a hand, but I paused. Thorensen swept the remnants of Michael into a dustpan with a whisk broom.

I should let some cat use him as kitty litter
.

Beyond that, I glimpsed something very strange.

“Rhys, what is that?

“What?”

“That light.”

Sinclair and Dominic were discussing the best way to remove Eva’s body. They had laid out a tarp but had yet to move her.

“What light?” Rhys’s head pivoted from side to side.

“On Eva. Don’t move her,” I yelled to the men surrounding her.

Through the pain I did my best to get to my feet. I stumbled with the first step, but Rhys grabbed me by the waist to steady me.

“Thank you.” It even hurt to smile but I gave him one anyway.

“What is that?” I pointed to Eva’s chest.

“What is what?” Sinclair said with annoyance.

“That light on her chest? Can’t you see it?”

Rhys followed close. “No, Linden. I don’t see anything.”

Lance chimed in. “Linden, I’m standing right here and I don’t know what you are talking about.”

When I reached my dead aunt’s body, I let the emotion I refused to feel earlier flood through me.

“I killed her.” The realization I murdered not one, but two people made me sick.

Lance was quick to correct me. “No, Linden, you killed a minion. Michael converted her years ago. She resisted because of what she was. When he finally made it happen, he came up with an idea of sending her into Cyril’s inner circle so she could cause damage. Minions don’t feel pain so they can attack forever. She was meant to take out Overton. She was dead the day she turned.”

I mumbled to myself, “She was dead the day I was born.”

Knowing that one of Cyril’s family could be turned into a minion was not a welcome thought. Speaking of minion…

“Lance, how do you feel?”

“I feel great! You freed me, Linden. I didn’t think it would ever happen. I owe you everything.”

The events of the night had my thoughts scattered.

“Can no one see the lights?”

“No!” The response unanimous.

I reached down and plucked one of the three small glowing misshapen orbs from Eva’s chest. They were no bigger than a pinball but when my finger connected with the first one, visions flooded my mind.

My father, whom I recognized from photographs, stood staring at me and in the distance. Behind him I could see the Grand Canyon. He smiled and said, “Isn’t it beautiful, Celeste?” The scene changed and my father once again stared at me. He was in a tuxedo standing in a church.

A man dressed in a ceremonial robe holding a book said, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

My father responded, “I do.”

I quickly removed my finger and gasped. The images dissipated.

“What is it, Linden?” Dominic, at my side, held my arm as if he thought I might fall. Maybe part of the spell had broken. The men were much more at ease with me.

“I think…the lights are souls. My parents, my aunt, they are right there.”

Lance started to rationalize first. “Linden, it’s been a big day. You hit your head hard.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lance. I know what I’m seeing.”

Overton came to stand by me.

“Overton, I can see them. What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Cyril used to use some type of magic to free them.”

“I don’t know any magic. What are we going to do?”

“Wait here.”

Overton took off running toward the stage. When he got to Cyril, he knelt and searched his body. Moments later he headed back with a silver-etched cylinder in his hand. He gave it to me.

“What is this?”

“Cyril once told me it’s where he keeps souls he needs to release, because of time restraints or too public an area to perform the ritual. He would store them in here. I’ve seen him place a lot of invisible objects into the container over the years.”

I unscrewed the lid and inside lay a white silk-like cloth. I took the cloth and used it to pick up my mother’s soul. I figured the cloth must provide some protection from seeing into each soul. I was right. No visions or images bounced through my head as I collected each one and placed them into the container. They were invisible to everyone else, but hard as stone to the touch. Just like stone in fact, like the stone in the necklace Cyril gave me.

It didn’t make sense.
Could I get to know the parents I never met by touching their souls?
Should I?
Would it be
right?

“Overton, take me home please.” I held the container close to my chest and allowed him to escort me. By the time I got to the stage, Cyril’s body had already been moved, but his blood still stained the hardwood. Maybe if I slept, I’d wake up and find everything had been a nightmare.

Chapter Eighteen

Renascence

Overton held me the entire way home. My head pressed against his chest, staining his shirt with tears. Rhys captained the SUV, while Cyril’s body lay a mere few feet away behind the rear seats.

Home.

When we reached the house Overton carried me to my room.

He sat me on the bed and knelt in front of me. Placing both hands on my face, he forced me to look at him. “Linden, it will be OK. I’m here for you.”

“But who’s going to be here for you, Stanton? Who? I can’t even keep myself together.”

“We’ll get through this. He loved us both. He’d want us to survive, to be happy.” He wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb.