The Agrista (Between the Lines Book 1) (34 page)

  Marie approached the seemingly harmless silver box with an awkward clamber. Caught somewhere between walking and crouching, each flimsy half-step was weighted with indecision. She let out a deep breath of apprehension as she settled herself on the floor astride the Agrísta, desperately looking to Gustav for direction.

  “First and foremost, take a breath, child.” A reluctant mirth laced through the broken circle, fraught with warring decibels and breathy chuckles. Apparently,
everyone
had been holding their breath. “Now, place your hand atop the Agrísta.” Marie’s dread was only exacerbated by her obvious humiliation as she shakily inched her hand closer with great difficulty.

  She closed her eyes and brusquely turned away as she gingerly outstretched her fingers. She was comforted instantly by the feel of smooth steel, soothing against her worn fingertips.

  Her breath hitched as a sudden longing pulsed through her, feeling as if she’d been reunited with an old lover after decades of separation. She was filled with an irrefutable
need
to touch the Agrísta, to feed an insurmountable craving for an intimate connection.

  She slammed her hand down on the Agrísta, held tightly in place by the sheer power of an undeniable draw. For just a moment, it was as if they were one.

  A small prick in the soft pad of her thumb brought her fumbling back to her senses, flushed and breathless as the bond was suddenly broken. The feeling of yearning had left her just as quickly as it had come, leaving a small sapphire in place of her blood. Drained of all color and understanding, she staggered back to her seat, visibly flustered and worse for wear.

  “How strange,” Marie exclaimed softly, distancing herself from Marcel as she grudgingly took her seat beside him. “Who’s next?” She laughed nervously in a feeble attempt to diffuse the tension, hampered by silence.

  Gustav responded by mercilessly gripping Marcel’s earlobe and hauling his wriggling form across the floor. He threw his slump body onto the Agrísta with resounding abhorrence. The bunched cloth muffled Marcel’s forthcoming screams as the Agrísta forged a connection, leaving him writhing in agony as it siphoned blood from his twitching forefinger. The link abruptly broke away, spitting Marcel out as if he’d tasted bitter. A peridot appeared in place of his blood, somewhat begrudgingly.

  Once the circle was whole again, Laylia rose to her feet with the graceful indifference of a seasoned geisha. She glided toward the Agrísta with a sense of purpose and an air of nobility.

  Each step was perfectly weighted, as if she were walking on water. Her long, silvery blond hair fell around her shoulders in one elegant sweep as she dropped to her knees and gently placed her hand atop the Agrísta.

  The Agrísta pulled the blood from her middle finger as if softly suckling nectar, leaving in its place a round opal. She rose to her feet and hesitantly took her place beside Marcel. She did her best not to acknowledge his presence, with little success.

  “Are you okay?” Marie mouthed to Laylia, taking care to do so out of Marcel’s sightline. With a curt nod of answer, Laylia sharply turned away, leaving Marie to believe otherwise.

  Fallon let out a long sigh as she jumped to her feet, acting as if this whole ordeal was nothing more than an inconvenience to her. She all too casually strode up to the Agrísta, not even bothering to seat herself beside it as she lurched forward and slammed her hand down on top of it. It cried out with a metallic warble at the brunt gesture.

  The Agrísta seemed to have a mind to treat her with a similar disrespect. It siphoned more blood than necessary from her ring finger, and didn’t go about it gently. Determined to appear formidable, Fallon suppressed a squeal, but her pained expression of surprise gave her away. An emerald appeared shrouded in a corona of blood, prompting Fallon to proudly saunter back to her seat.

  “I have to admit, now that it’s my turn, I’m feeling a little bit of performance anxiety. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.” Cerin laughed to himself as he hesitantly rose to his feet.

  The others were engrossed in his movements. They watched him with a stern focus that felt nearly palpable and made his feet feel like lead. He drew in a deep breath, acting as if it were his last as he held it tight. He lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand atop the Agrísta.

  With one swift motion, the needle pierced the tip of his pinky. The Agrísta released his hand nearly as soon as it had touched the silver, erecting a small ruby in its place. Cerin took his place alongside Fallon, and the five of them waited in companionable silence, watching the Agrísta with bated breath.

  “Why isn’t anything happening?” Fallon prompted impatiently.

  As if provoked by her words, the Agrísta ripped open with a deafening pitch. It emitted a pale gold light that enveloped the room, bleaching their surroundings with a blinding gilt.

  Marie grasped for Alex as the floor beneath them suddenly gave ‘way, but he slipped through her fingers like fine granules of sand. His baleful howl was devoured by her screams as she disappeared into the void.

BONE DEEP

 
M
arie combed her fingers through the soft, dew-kissed grass that replaced the cold metal floor beneath her, feeling as though she’d fallen through time. She gingerly pushed herself up by her elbows and scanned herself for injuries. She seemed to be fairly unscathed, aside from the sharp pain radiating from her tailbone. She crudely gesticulated skyward and murmured a sardonic
thanks
, happy that her butt broke her fall, and not her face.

  Everyone else seemed to be in a similar state of shock and confusion as they took in their new surroundings. An explosion of white flowered trees mottled the lavender skyline in sharp contrast to their ebony bark, limned with the last vestiges of sunlight as it set fire to the horizon and gave life to the foliage.

  Healthy tufts of turquoise grass lined a narrow walkway; the same walkway that so graciously broke their fall and stripped them of their waning enthusiasm. The pale stones twisted along the vibrant, fluffy swards, leading up to a small silver building that glittered in the fading sun, adorned with uniquely sculpted topiaries.

  “Are you alright?” Alex gathered Marie in his arms before she had the chance to answer.

  “I’m fine,” she said listlessly, mesmerized by his erratic heartbeat as she pressed her ear to his chest. “I’m fine,” she muttered, abruptly pulling away.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered softly as he hypnotically traced his thumb along the fine hair that graced her temples.

  “Yes. Really, I’m okay,” she laughed nervously. She cast her eyes downward to diminish the growing intimacy of the moment, but it only amplified it.
Of course! He’s naked.
She sharply looked away to hide the awkward smile fighting to make an appearance as her mouth flickered at the edges. “Where’s the Agrísta?” she asked hoarsely, her face flaming red.

  “The Agrísta is fine,” Gustav said with a sigh of relief, cradling the small silver box close to his chest. “As are the rest of us.”

  “Where are we?” asked Laylia, brushing grass from the hem of her dress as she stood.

  “Our mother’s tomb,” Fallon said lifelessly. “I’m not surprised that
you
don’t remember it, Laylia.”

  “Oh!” Laylia nodded slowly, cowed by the foreboding gleam of silver as she feigned recognition. “Oh,” she flinched, clumsily stumbling back to Bria’s side. “I haven’t been here since...” she trailed off, lost to the sudden influx of swirling thoughts.

  Laylia hadn’t been here since the day of their mother’s funeral. It was held over two decades ago, yet was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. Evangeline had died without ever knowing how twisted her precious little boy was, but Laylia could never forgive her mother for her ignorance, even in death.

  Her footsteps had never once graced the sullen stone pathway, letting her heavy words fall on deaf ears as she pressed her wet cheeks to the cold silver. She had entirely too much to say, and in turn, nothing at all to say. Out of her respect for her mother’s resting soul, she was able to stay as silent as the grave by avoiding her mother’s entirely.

  “Your mother, er,
my
mother…” Marie blinked solemnly, rectifying her fumbling thoughts and twisting words with a shaky breath. “
Our
mother…is in there?” she staggered to her feet, nearly toppling over before gaining a strong foothold.

  “Her body is,” Cerin said grimly. He preferred to look at things from a scientific perspective, finding little comfort in the metaphysical. What lay inside now was nothing more than a formation of dust. It was
not
his mother. Not anymore. He mentally reminded himself of that to assuage the grief welling inside.

  Marie’s eyes darted askance as she cautiously approached the door to the mausoleum. She averted her gaze to subdue the dreadful feeling seeding in her stomach, tugging at her heartstrings until they eventually snapped. She took a deep breath as she faced the building head on, struck with the sudden memory of where she’d seen it before.

  “I’ve dreamt about this place,” Marie closed her eyes, recalling the nightmares that plagued her dreams when she first arrived with vivid detail.

  “That’s impossible,” Cerin adamantly shook his head, furrowing his brow in deep thought. “You wouldn’t have even been born on Earth yet when her ceremony took place.”

  “I can’t explain it either,” Marie said, annoyed. “All I know is that I’ve seen
that
door in my dreams,
twice
.”

  “I don’t see the correlation.” Fallon scoffed. “You saw a silver door in your dream. So what? That doesn’t mean it’s the same door.”

  “It had the same disturbing face on it!” Marie reasoned angrily.

  Engraved upon the door was an insignia, one that strongly resembled a Greek theater mask, symbolic of untimely tragedy.

  “Was that always there?” Laylia asked as she vacantly stared into its hollow, silver eyes glinting ominously in the sinking sun.

  “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,” said Cerin, absently stroking his chin.

  “Me either,” Fallon admitted reluctantly. She watched the face as if it were a fierce opponent, poised to strike.

  “Gustav, do you know what it means?” Marie turned to the mousling, who appeared to be deep in thought.

  “No, but it certainly can’t mean anything good,” he crumpled his snout, eyeing the door dubiously. “Unfortunately, we’ve no time for speculation. Cailene could arrive at any moment. We must proceed.” Gustav urgently nudged the open Agrísta toward Marie’s face, revealing a small silver key banked on a pillow of plush red velvet. “Remember what I told you, child, about what lies on the other side of that door. Do not hesitate, even for a moment, for it could mean your very life,” he whispered to Marie while the others were busy with their rueful inspection. She’d never particularly cared for the notion of following orders blindly, and she wasn’t inclined to trust him so easily. Still, she kept her growing suspicion and protestations to herself, knowing she’d make up her own mind when the time came. Hopefully, she would make the right choice.

  “Cailene won’t come here. She doesn’t like to get her hands dirty,” Marcel purred. He struggled to position himself with dignity, despite his crippling bonds.

  “I don’t understand why we had to go through all of this just for the key to her tomb. Couldn’t we have simply asked the groundskeeper for one?” Marie asked innocently, ignoring Marcel.

  “Mother was of royal blood!” barked Fallon, positioning herself to strike.

  “Calm down, Fallon!” Laylia snarled. “She didn’t grow up here like the rest of us.”

  “Things work a little differently here, Marie,” said Cerin. “When someone of great importance dies, they’re kept in a tomb, as opposed to being buried. Traditionally, their tomb is made of glass, but mother insisted on a silver tomb in her will. Her reasoning is unbeknownst to us, but we had no choice but to respect her wishes. Since our mother was the Queen, and therefore considered above all others, she shares this space with no one. There’s only one grave and one key. After the ceremony, the tomb is locked and the key is destroyed, so that no one can disturb her eternal peace. It might seem a little odd to you, but it’s a long-standing tradition,” he explained somberly. “The fact that the key to her tomb still exists is
very
troubling,” his expression soured, reflecting – just for a moment – wisdom well beyond his physical years.

  “Perhaps,” Marie prefaced softly, “there was a secret buried with her…”

  “…and
someone
wants us to find out what it is.” Laylia finished her sister’s thought as they shared a look of fearful intrigue.

  “The Agrísta brought the five of you here for a reason. We can continue to waste time theorizing, but the only way you’re going to find out the truth is if you press on,” Gustav said firmly.

  “You want us to desecrate our mother’s tomb?” Fallon was beyond livid, punctuating her words with flying spittle as her face burned red.

  “We won’t be desecrating anything, Fallon,” Cerin sighed. “Our mother is gone. Only her body remains.”

  “I’ll have no part in this!” Fallon angrily spun on her heel and buried her face into Cayden’s shoulder, muffling a few choice words better left unsaid.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to know. We’ve risked not only our lives, but the lives of countless others, just to get to this point. We can’t stop now.” Marie turned toward the mausoleum and squared her shoulders. She thrust out her chest and jutted her chin, determined to meet this final task with the utmost dignity. Alex mimicked every meticulously long, graceful stride as precisely as a shadow, walking in perfect tandem with his creator’s will.

  The sky grew darker with every step forward they took, but Marie persisted despite her ebbing courage. She knew that the only thing she
could
control right now was her body. She was powerless to silence the melee of screaming thoughts, pleading with her to turn back at the first sight of fat black clouds rolling in. They raped the sky of its beauty and left it a morose gray, devoid of all whispers of avian life.

  A hush fell over the surrounding wildlife as the wind died abruptly, bathing the land in an unnatural silence that stung Marie’s bones down to their marrow. She craned her neck and surveyed the land with a parting glance. The landscape had been ravaged. The plant life withered to rot, littered with the fragile bones of the forest, limp and sad amidst the desiccated swards.

  In the blink of an eye, this sacred space had been twisted into an ashen desert, burning with the ancient fervor of fire and brimstone as the air grew thick as blood. Marie stiffened as she became painfully aware of every little nuance of the shifting atmosphere. Her chaotic thoughts struggled to keep pace, falling short with warbled gasps and trembling palms.

  Alex nuzzled his face into the concave of her hip, gently reminding her of his presence. She instinctively dug her fingers into the crown of his mane. She held fiercely tight to his hide, as if he were her lifeline amidst the chaos, and she would drown if she lost hold. This
was only the calm before the storm. The worst had yet to come.

  A gyre of angry clouds swirled directly above her head, circling she and Alex like birds of prey, primed for the kill. Verdant wisps of accumulation siphoned energy from the dense air, coalescing into a meandering cyclone that merrily cavorted along the hilltops as if it were playfully skipping stones.

  Throngs of purple lightening branched out across the sky with a terrible roar. They screamed and hissed as they hit the ground directly in front of Marie in violent succession, grinding the stone to dust. She and Alex stood frozen in the eye of the storm, paralyzed by their growing confusion as the ground trembled and groaned in protest.

  Deep red plumes of smoke rose from the sizzling stone fissures, blocking the mausoleum from view as its willowy tendrils curled through the air and beckoned to the sky. It absorbed the surrounding chaos and left the land blanched and weeping.

  Marie and Alex clumsily staggered several steps back, refusing to tear their eyes from the thickening smoke as they leaned on each other for support. Her companions had been rendered speechless. They watched the onslaught of events with bated breath as they murmured half-forgotten prayers to themselves.

  A dark figure slowly emerged from the rapidly dissipating smoke, as if stepping straight out of a nightmare. It resembled an Umbra, but it had been twisted into an entirely new subspecies that tripled in mass. Thousands of thick, serrated glass shards made up the creature’s jagged hide, though it looked anything but fragile.

  A gut-wrenching cacophony rang out as its sagging wings tore through the soil, constructed of curved, rusty daggers that seemed to trap past victims’ screams in the blood that bathed the dull edges. The maddening dissonance tore the breath from Marie’s lungs and left her unable to stand.

  It wasn’t until Marie had dared to look upon the creature’s face that she realized who and what it was. Cailene, in her Umbraic form. A ceramic mask of carved ivory clung to her fine bones as tightly as a second skin, with black hollow eyes and a Glasgow smile, framed by a mane of vigorous black flames.

  Marie had been dreading this moment since she’d first laid eyes on Cailene. She knew that all paths would eventually lead her here. She’d spent the past several weeks in sheer terror of this moment. Now that it was here, she felt leeched of all emotion, including the sensible fear that would determine her survival.

  “Get out of my way!” Marie had managed to muster up just enough courage to look straight into Cailene’s eyes. She trembled at the thought of what lay hidden in their depths, staring back at her with dark amusement.

  “Safe in the shadows, are you? Foolish beast. I can see you.” Cailene’s hollow eyes settled on Alex’s shocked face. Her words disintegrated what little bravado Marie had left.

  Cailene’s voice was an amalgamation of competing decibels, merged into a three part dissonance that made its listener want to gouge their ears out. All three voices spoke in perfect synch, yet each one could be distinctly heard among the straying fugue, resulting in a grating stridency that made Marie’s skin crawl.