Whisper (8 page)

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Authors: Alyson Noël

Tags: #Paranormal, #YA, #Alyson Noel, #Riley Bloom

BOOK: Whisper
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I
slipped away from Dacian, pushed past the Roman nobles standing before me, and leaped as high as I could. Immune to the sound of Dacian’s frantic voice calling out from behind me, I gripped the sides of my gown, bunched it up in my hands, and hurtled right over the edge of the box. Landing on the shoulders of a startled, and not so happy toga-clad man, I evaded his angry, outstretched hands, and found my way to the ground. Winding my way to the center of the arena where I glanced between a headless Theocoles lying prone on the sand, and the completely intact, somewhat filmier version that stood alongside him, staring down at his former body in a mixture of loss and confusion.
“Theocoles.” I tugged hard on his hand, knowing I had to move fast. I had no idea where Messalina might’ve gone, but I could only assume she wouldn’t stay gone for too long.
“Theocoles, please, you’ve got to listen to me. You’ve got to realize that you’re dead. It’s over. The battle was lost and there is no going back. And while I’m truly sorry for what happened to you, while I’m truly sorry that you had to go in such a totally gruesome, violent way, it’s time for you to put all of that behind you and move on. There’s a better place for you—a much better place, where you truly belong. And if you’ll just allow me to—”
He turned toward me, his deep topaz eyes staring hard into mine, as though he really did see me, as though he really did hear me—and while my face beamed with victory, I decided to save the celebration for later. First, I had to see this thing through.
“Who is that?” he asked, his voice like a whisper as he gazed down at his poor mangled body.
“It’s you,” I told him, my voice equally soft, sympathetic, knowing firsthand just how shocking it can be to see such a thing, to make the transition between life and death. “That’s what happened to your body. And while I’m truly sorry for that, as you can see, the most essential part of you continues to exist. It’s not over for you, Theocoles, not even close.”
He moved toward his corpse, kneeling beside it as I did the same. Though unlike him, I did my best not to look at it, and I definitely didn’t touch it like he did—it was way too gruesome to even consider. I may have been enthralled
with all the blood and gore when I was Aurelia, but returned to myself, I was not only grossed out, but deeply ashamed by the way I’d gotten so easily sucked in—the way I’d so eagerly shouted “Live!” and “Kill!” along with the rest of them. I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen again.
I mean, seriously, it was pretty much the kind of thing you see in horror movies—the kind of movies that, when I was alive anyway, I was forbidden to watch. My parents assuring me that I was too young, that I’d be haunted by nightmares, and yet, since the moment I became a Soul Catcher I’d been forced to witness all manner of grisly, gory gruesomeness—the kind of stuff that pushed my gag reflex beyond all reasonable limits.
That’s it,
I thought.
As soon as this business with Theocoles is over, I’m scheduling a nice, long talk with the Council about more age-appropriate assignments!
Though it was only a second later when I remembered how I found myself there—I was the one who practically begged for more difficult Soul Catches.
“Be careful what you wish for,” my mom used to say. And when I gazed down at the disgusting, headless body before me I knew it was true.
Theocoles turned away from his corpse and gazed after his opponent. Watching as Urbicus was practically dragged
from the arena, left in such a sorry state I couldn’t help but think he was moments away from meeting his own afterlife.
“And what becomes of him?” Theocoles mumbled, almost as though speaking to himself.
I glanced between the two of them, shrugging as I said, “He’ll succumb to his own death eventually. And from the looks of it, I’d guess sooner rather than later. In the end, no matter how hard we may try to avoid it, all of us go. The body is temporary, but the soul never dies.”
I sat back in surprise, realizing that for probably the first time ever, my words didn’t contain even a trace of the grudge I once used to hold over my own early demise. I was just stating the facts as I knew them, without any of my usual animosity. I’d finally reached the point where I no longer took my death personally.
“Where are the roses?” he asked, brows merging in confusion as he glanced from the crowd to the sand that, instead of the flowers he was used to, was scattered with chunks of skin and blood, and gawd knows what else. “They always throw roses. The crowd loves me and that’s how they show their love for me. They shower me with rose petals, thousands and thousands of red rose petals that I collect in my hands and crush into my palms, so that I can carry the scent back into the barracks with me and relive the memory.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess they forgot.” Wondering if I should try to manifest some rose petals real quick so I could spread them about and make him feel better, then quickly decided against it.
It was better not to coddle him. Better for him to face the facts, no matter how brutal. Facing the truth was an important part of the process. It would help him move on, something he desperately needed to do—sooner rather than later if I had any say in it.
“They have turned against me.” His eyes grew wide, frantic, as the reality of his situation sank in. “I have lost their adoration—their favor!” He gazed around wildly as though searching for a way to remedy it. “I am their champion—their Pillar of Doom—how dare they forget that?”
His voice cracked as he jumped to his feet. Retrieving his helmet he waved it at the crowd in an effort to get their attention, before he jammed it back onto his head.
“I will win them back! I will regain their favor! If it is the last thing I do, I will hear the roar of their approval—I will bask in the thunder of their applause once again!”
Oh boy.
I got to my feet and stood alongside him, saying, “Uh, Theocoles, seriously, you really need to rethink this.” I reached toward him, my hand grasping, reaching, only to watch in astonishment as he moved right past me, kicked a
cloud of sand right into my face as he reached for his sword, and slumped into a crouching position.
“Okay, you know what?” I scowled, clearing my face and dress of disgusting, bloody, squishy chunks of I-don’t-want-to-know-what. “That’s
enough
! I mean it. I don’t care who you think you are—I don’t care if you’re the champion of this arena—I don’t care if you’re the champion of the whole entire world—you
cannot
spit at me! You
cannot
kick chunked-up sand in my face! Really, I am so not joking. I don’t care what time you come from, I don’t care that you’re used to living like a barbarian, it is absolutely, positively, not okay to disregard me like that! Do you hear me?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for a reply. Directing the question at him once again when I shouted, “I said:
Do. You. Hear. Me?

His eyes met mine, and in that moment I knew I’d connected. I knew I’d finally broken through to him.
Theocoles had heard me.
He’d seen me.
I’d just accomplished what no other Soul Catcher before me was able to do.
I’d broken him free of his trance.
I moved toward him, my palm open in offering, reaching for his. Knowing it was just a matter of time before I
made that glistening golden veil that would lead him to the bridge, to where he belonged.
My voice choked with the thrill of victory, I gazed into his eyes and said, “Theocoles, come. It is time for you to move on.”
T
heocoles leaned forward, his fingers flexing, straining, moving toward … his sword.
First he grabbed his sword.
Then he reached for his shield.
I stood there, gaping in a mixture of confused outraged indignation when Messalina appeared.
“We’ve been over this, Riley. Theocoles hears only what he chooses to hear. And, just so you know, when he finally does break out of his spell, it won’t be because of
you.
It will be because of
me
.”
She moved toward me, a vision in pink with a feral smile that widened her cheeks, as a savage gleam shone in her eye.
And all I could think was:
Run! Resist! Do not let her touch you! Do not let her enchant you again!
But it was no use.
Well before I could move, well before I could get my body in cahoots with my head, she leaned toward me, her long, cool fingers sweeping the space just north of my brow, once again pretending to tame a stray curl that had fallen out of place.
And the next thing I knew I was standing in the middle of a loud and crowded room. My cheeks flushed, my gaze shyly avoiding that of a very cute boy who grasped hold of my hand.
A boy who introduced himself as Dacian.
A boy who seemed to think my name was Aurelia.
And maybe it was. I couldn’t be sure, when there was no one around to dispute it.
“Why have I not seen you before?” he asked, his eyes shining with unrestrained interest.
I ducked my head, gazed up at him through my tangle of lashes, my voice bearing the full extent of my confusion when I said, “But you have.” Only to watch him shake his head and immediately discard what I said.
“Trust me, I would not have forgotten such a thing. There is no way such a beauty as yours would ever escape me.”
Me? A beauty?
I gazed down at myself, smoothed my palms down the front of my gown, shocked to see I possessed the kind of body that I once only dreamed of. And if the heft and weight
of the blond curls that bounced on my shoulders was anything to go by, then chances were I just might be as beautiful and radiant as the lavender dress that I wore.
I leaned over, peering into the elaborate, tiered fountain beside me, greedily searching for a trace of my own reflection, and relaxing when I found my face beaming back in a series of ripples. The image unsteady, wavering, but still confirming Dacian’s words to be true.
And yet, if what Dacian said was true—if my name really was Aurelia—if I really was a beautiful, teenaged girl—then why did it all feel so strange?
Why did it all seem so unreal, like some kind of dream? The boy—the body—the face—the dress—the strange-sounding name which he called me—it all seemed as unstable as the image I’d seen in the fountain.
It must be the party. It must be the large crowd of people and all of the noise that went with it. I wasn’t used to such things. I wasn’t used to feeling so cramped, and hemmed in. I needed air, needed the night sky, along with the stars, and the moon, and all that went with it.
“I trust I can leave you in Dacian’s care?” Messalina smiled, her gaze dancing between us.
I blinked. Wondering where she had come from. I didn’t remember seeing her arrive. It was as though she’d appeared out of nowhere.
“I trust that I can count on Dacian to be on his very best behavior when I leave my dearest friend in his care?”
Messalina and I were friends. Right. It was all becoming clear. We were good friends. Best friends. She lent me the dress, along with the jewelry I wore. She even fixed my hair, pinned it with jewels—the two of us such close friends we were almost like sisters.

Don’t go!
” I said. Or at least I tried to say it, but the words refused to cooperate, and were instantly replaced with, “I assure you I will be fine. If Dacian dares to get the slightest bit out of hand, I will summon one of the gladiators to take care of him.” I smiled flirtatiously, my eyes shining with laughter as I glanced between them. “In fact”—I made a point of pouting prettily—“I will do one better than that. I will choose that giant, hulking gladiator right over there.” I pointed toward the opposite side of the room, where the tallest, most fierce, most handsome gladiator stood with his hands and legs shackled to those who stood alongside him, ensuring they wouldn’t do anything reckless, ensuring the partygoers, the finest of Roman nobility, did not experience a repeat of the legendary revolt that was once led by Spartacus. “I will elicit the help of the one they call the Pillar of Doom. I think the threat alone is likely to keep Dacian subdued, no?” I shot him an inviting smile, eager to hear his reply.
“You would sic Theocoles on me?” Dacian said, his face a mask of mock horror as Messalina giggled beside him.
Theocoles.
What was it about that name that made me feel so odd inside?
I glanced at Messalina, my friend, my dearest friend, then shaking my head, I rid myself of any lingering doubts as I grasped her hand in mine and said, “Go! Go check in with your aunt, please. I am sure that with the threat of Theocoles hanging over him—” I paused on the name, had to force myself to move on. “Well, I’m sure Dacian can be counted on to behave now, can’t he?”
Dacian laughed in a way that made his eyes shine, as Messalina leaned between us, trailing a finger first along Dacian’s brow and then mine. “Actually,” she said, her face gone suddenly serious. “I’m counting on both of you to be on your best behavior, and I’m sure you will not disappoint me.” Then she turned on her heel, and left us alone

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