The Agrista (Between the Lines Book 1) (36 page)

  “Are you alright, Eva?” Cailene dropped her formal tone and shifted in her chair uncomfortably.

  “No!” she croaked. “There is something wrong with me,” an influx of racking sobs distorted her speech as she shriveled into a frail ball of shaking limbs.

  “I will not deny that you’ve been short-tempered lately, but it’s understandable. You are with child,” Cailene cooed.

  “Oh, Cailene. If only it were that simple! It’s so much more than that. I’ve been having dark thoughts. Unnatural thoughts of things that have
never
before crossed my mind!”

  “What sort of thoughts?”

  “I refuse to even say them out loud, for fear that they may come true,” she paused to shudder. “I think my husband has poisoned me.”

  “What makes you suspect such a thing? Do you feel ill?” Cailene dropped to her knees beside the tub. She softly cradled Evangeline’s face in her clammy palms with an expression of horror.

  “There is a darkness within me, breathing life into horrible thoughts and clawing at my heart,” Evangeline grimaced. “He is not the man I married, Cailene,” she said stoically, now speaking in frantic non-sequiturs. “He has grown cold and distant. We no longer make love, he only takes it.” Cailene baulked at that, biting her tongue as she brusquely turned away. “He has changed, and he has made me like him. Cailene, you
must
protect my children. You must keep them away from him,” she inhaled sharply to suppress the sudden swell of tears. “You must keep them away from
me
,” she said shakily. “My dear friend, I must ask something of you.”

  “Anything, my Queen,” Cailene inclined her head, finding comfort in simple formalities.

  “I am sending Mariella away, tonight.” Cailene had no idea what the Queen could possibly mean by this, but urged her to go on with a soft nod of her head. “I am going to fake my death. I can sustain myself with magic, but my tomb
must
be made of silver, to contain it.”

  “What do you need from
me
, my Queen?” Cailene asked dumbly, still reeling from shock.

  “I need
you
, my dear friend, to lock me away and hide the key. Hidden among my children’s mementos is a small silver box. It is the last place Xenos would ever look, and he would think nothing of it upon discovery. That small silver box is known as the Agrísta: the ultimate keeper of secrets. You must use it to hide the key to my tomb, and bind it with my children’s blood. That way, only
they
can open it, and
only
by working together.”

  “It’s all a bit extreme, Eva, don’t you think?” Cailene rasped, grasping for logic with flailing gesticulations.

  “Soon these thoughts will consume me. I need to protect my children and my kingdom. Find out what my husband has poisoned me with. If there is a cure, I know you will find it.”

  “This is all so sudden! How will you protect your children from the King if you are no longer here?”

  “I have retaliated with a poison of my own,” Evangeline smirked.

  “You poisoned your own husband, Eva?” Cailene gaped.

  “Not precisely. Had I needed to, I would have, but such measures were unnecessary. By this time tomorrow, Xenos will be unrecognizable. No one will know his face. He will lose all of his power and be forced to flee.”

  “Are you sure about this, Eva?” Cailene whimpered, burying her face in her hands.

  “I fear it is too late for me, dear friend. Let us hope that it is not too late for my children. I am sorry to saddle you with such a burden, but the fate of the kingdom is in your hands.”

 
Xenos
and
Cailene. My mother was a wonderful judge of character!
Marie thought bitterly.
Still, she gave up everything to protect us,
she sighed, feeling a burst of warmth rush through her at the sentiment, and leave her shivering in her mother’s absence.

  “Oh, Evangeline, you must be so furious with me!” Cailene cursed herself as she threw herself down onto the steps of the mausoleum. Marie had been so engrossed by her seething introspection, she hadn’t even noticed they were no longer in the castle. “Your eldest children want nothing to do with the kingdom, Laylia’s run away, Mariella’s surrogate father is hardly any better than Xenos, and Marcel
is
as bad as Xenos!” She pressed her back to the door in a futile effort to get closer to her departed Queen, begrudging the thick slab of silver and herself for their continued separation. “I’ve failed you, utterly!” Cailene buried her face in her knees and wept softly to herself, giving rise to an inkling of pity that turned Marie’s stomach as she silently watched from the shadows.

  “Are you lost, little lamb?” Marie shuddered at the sudden interjection. She recognized the silver tongue slithering into her ears as the hissing serpent among Cailene’s layered voice. Cailene clambered down from the steps in a clumsy effort to escape. “Oh my! I didn’t mean to frighten you, wee she-beast,” a Glasgow smile turned up beneath empty eyes as a face pressed through the silver door as if it were made of silk. “Do you miss your master? She misses you. It’s so very lonely in here.”

  “
You’re
the reason Eva’s in there!” Cailene felt her sadness boil to rage as she battled her animal instincts. Quelling the visceral need frothing to the surface felt like crushing broken glass with bare flesh.

  “Ah, I see. You don’t trust me,” the voice observed playfully. “Let’s play a game then, shall we? Ask me anything you wish to know!”

  “What is your name?”

  “I am as old as time, but new to this world. Stuck in a state of limbo, I am nameless.”

  “How do I kill you?”

  “You cannot kill me, for I am the product of killing.”

  “Are you going to answer
every
question with a riddle?” she hissed.

  “Your questions are a riddle in themselves.” A glint of madness reflected in its hollow eyes as its wry lips twisted up into a knowing smile. “Why don’t I answer the questions you’re not asking? For instance, how to save Evangeline…” it trailed off teasingly.

  “Will you tell me?” Cailene slowly looked away in a futile attempt to shade the hope brimming in her opal eyes.

  “Give me a drop of your blood, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Nameless saw a break in her demeanor, and lunged.

  “My blood?” Cailene’s face twisted in disgust. “Even
I’m
not that stupid.”

  “Your eyes are tired, young one. You’ve searched and searched, and still you have found no answers. Give up this futile pursuit. A simple drop of your blood is all that it takes to be reunited with your master. What is the point of your life if it is not to serve hers? You cannot even die without her! My poor, weary she-beast. Let us make a bond, and we shall
both
be free.” Marie could’ve sworn she’d seen Nameless’ devious smile widen as it caught sight of her own pale face. She clumsily delved deeper into the brush, melting into the darkness to veil the surge of fear dictating her jerky movements.

  “I
will
find a way to kill you,
and
save Evangeline,” Cailene jutted her chin defiantly.

  “Foolish, she-beast! I don’t need your consent. I was only being polite.”

  A silver patina suddenly laced over Cailene’s bulging eyes. Eddies of mercury reflected the fear trapped within as they burned through her corneas and ravaged her sight. She fell to her knees, screaming in an ancient tongue foreign to her own ears. The quavering howl drowned in a furrow of muffled sound, diminishing her senses with every pained exhalation.

  Marie edged a step closer, uncertain if it was bravery or foolish curiosity that made her do it. She watched in horror as Cailene aged half a century in a compressed moment.

  Cailene’s fair skin melted from her bones, pooling into a withered mass stretched loosely over sagging muscles and a matchstick frame, mottled brown and sallow with age. Much like the legendary Nazirite, it seemed her strength was also held in her tresses.

  As the pigment and life faded from her springy curls, so did whatever was keeping her upright. She shriveled to the floor in a gnarled mess of jowls and rickety joints. This was the Cailene that Marie knew; the one she’d come to hate and fear.

  “Parlor tricks!” Cailene cackled, somewhat hysterically. “Your
true
power lies with Evangeline. You may be able to alter my chemistry, but you’ve no hold on my heart!” she spat, struggling to get to her feet with crumbling vigor.

  “My reach extends
far
beyond the grave, and far beyond mere vanity, as you’ll soon see. You can fight me until it drives you mad, but I’ll eventually consume you.”

  Upon seeing this memory and hearing Nameless’ words, Marie was struck with a confounding epiphany that twisted her stomach in knots. This entire time, Cailene had been on their side, fighting for them every step of the way. She was of two minds: Cailene, and the dark creature that had taken up residence in her heart, forcing her hand at every turn.

  “Marie? Marie! Are you alright?” Alex’s warmth spread through her body and curled her toes as she slowly came to. The sudden realization of her surroundings ignited a fire in the pit of her stomach that reduced her voice to cinders. “How long was I gone?”

  “Gone?” Alex brows drew together in thought. “You lost consciousness moments after I arrived, but you’ve only been unconscious for a moment.”

  “It felt like a lot longer than that,” she observed solemnly. “There’s no time to get into that, though,” she cursed as she gingerly propped herself up by her elbows. “There’s something wrong with Evangeline. I don’t quite know how to explain it. She’s...sick.”

  “Sick?” Alex hissed. “Until recently, I thought her deceased.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” she struggled to keep the suspicion from her voice as she shot Gustav a nefarious sidelong glance.
By this time tomorrow, Xenos will be unrecognizable. No one will know his face. He will lose all of his power and be forced to flee.
Except things didn’t quite go according to plan.

  Her mother’s words resounded in her mind as she studied the mousling impatiently edging closer to them. He was a far cry from his former self, but his cold eyes were unmistakable. Gustav was Xenos.

FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE

 
M
arie and Gustav locked eyes and held their ground. They grappled for each other’s motives with mutually confused expressions in a standoff of wills. Sure he’d soon suspect her if she let the deafening silence prolong, she gently placed her hand on the hilt of her dagger and jerked her head toward Evangeline. She hoped to allay the suspicion written clearly on his face amidst the quivering rictus.

  Marie had apparently appeared all too eager to abandon her previous misgivings, for Gustav’s next move nearly knocked her off her feet. Somehow, she never saw it coming. She’d witnessed his lithe grace many times, but when she took in his rotund stature that belied his dexterity, it always caught her off-guard. She felt her heart jump as her fingers graced the hollow space of her sheath. In one swift motion barely detectable by the naked eye, he’d robbed her of her weapon.

  Having originally considered himself amongst friends, Alex had detected no danger, and was all too vulnerable in his human form. Marie pressed her back to his steeled front, finding comfort in his solid stance. She found no comfort, however, in his bemused expression, but she hadn’t the time to explain. Fairly quick himself, Alex would catch on soon enough.

  “I was hoping you’d be the one to do it. The power coursing through my dear wife’s body grows stronger with every kill, and I’d rather slit your throat than hers,” Gustav said dreamily as he gently caressed Evangeline’s face, surprisingly peaceful in repose. “I never wanted children. They’re nothing but parasites. They feed from a woman’s body, leeching her of her beauty and her years, only to consume her heart and leave little room for anything else,” he hissed. “Or any
one
else, for that matter.”

  With a simple motion, Gustav plunged Marie’s dagger into Evangeline’s chest. Marie collapsed to her hands and knees, her scream trapped beneath a violent uproar of raging sobs. She clawed at her ribcage, feeling as if he’d ripped her own heart from her chest as she watched the unfurling travesty with utter disbelief. She’d finally had a mother, and in less than a moment, she was gone.

  With a strangled bellow of victory and mourning, Gustav jerked the knife free. He stared at the bare hilt in horror as his face twisted with confusion.

  Of course! The dagger will only work for me. She’s still alive!
With a sharp inhalation of surprised relief, a goofy grin split Marie’s pale face, infuriating Gustav even more than his humiliation.

  Laylia roused herself from a dreamless state only to feel even more surreal upon waking. Gustav – the person who’d guided their steps throughout this entire journey – was being throttled by a woman she thought to be dead for over two decades. Using Bria for support, she staggered to her feet. She looked to Alex and Marie for an explanation, but they seemed to be just as lost as she.

  Flashes of silver skittered across her vision as Bria crashed into her. She pinioned her to the ground, crushing her torso and ripping the breath from her lungs. Laylia dazedly watched runnels of blood glisten at the base of Bria’s spine. She forced herself upright and pressed her back to the wall, savoring the cool rush of air that inflated her lungs.

  She turned to see Marcel standing in the doorway with a shaky two-handed grip on Fallon’s five-bladed sword. He struggled to stay upright beneath its weight with a bowed back and trembling knees drawn together. Even in the darkness, she could make out the glint of his teeth as his lips twisted up into a cruel smile; a smile she knew all too well that thrust her deeper into the darkness.

  Marie’s bloodcurdling scream tore Laylia from the sudden swell of black thoughts, consuming her body and soul like a raging tsunami. She dragged herself onto dry land, just out of reach of the cresting waters of dark thoughts. She used Marie’s voice as a beacon of light to find her way to safety, only to have a wave of fear come crashing down on her. Laylia found herself drowning in a sea of red.

  The old King and Queen lay in pieces on the floor, brought to ruin by their named heir; pulverized by their firstborn daughter’s beloved weapon. The air in the mausoleum grew thick and hot beneath the haze of blood. The sharp scent of copper permeated the air like a poisonous miasma, bathing everything in red so only the whites of their eyes shone amidst the darkness.

  Marie threw herself against Alex’s steeled hindquarters, burying her face in his side as she absently groped for his mane. Every shiver roused his primordial nature as he bared his elongated canines. His hackled hide swallowed Marie’s muffed sobs and gave rise to a guttural rumble of warning and promise.

    Pushing herself solely on ethers of anger and grief, Marie latched onto the side of the coffin and pulled herself to her feet. She repeatedly lost her grasp along the slick edge and stumbled into pools of gleaming viscera as she struggled to find a steady foothold amidst the sludge. She was too catatonic to be sickened by the gruesome chaos.

  Beneath a cascade of tangled tresses, her eyes were hard and focused as she directed all her vitriol into an unrelenting gaze toward Marcel. She coursed with adrenaline upon its return, mirrored in his cold expression. It was as if she’d ignited a spark, burning him from the inside out.

  Marcel fell to his knees as his blood churned to black, bulging in clustered pocks of webbed veins beneath his skin as it branched out across his rippling flesh. It crawled up his body and flooded his pale blue eyes until they’d been leeched of color and burned to black. Alex positioned himself alongside Marie, facing the glaring unknown head on, and fearing only for her safety.

  Bria took an apprehensive step forward, only to be jerked back by Laylia. She desperately attempted to dampen the inhuman sounds bleeding from Marcel as she buried her face into in the hollow of Bria’s throat, shrouded by a thick mane of merlot.

  A heady silence descended upon the room as Marcel’s thrashing came to an abrupt stop. All movement fled his body with a loud, hissing exhalation that breathed life into the room while expunging it from him. Drawn to the screams, Aruzhan’s naked form glistened in the dying wisps of sunlight and broke through the darkness. Her strong body framed in steel demanded the attention of the room.

  “Lucidus and Vilhant!” Aruzhan searched the darkness for an answer, but it only left her with more questions. “What happened?”

  “Evangeline,” Marie croaked. Her voice was no longer familiar among the chaotic drumming in her ears. “She was alive this whole time. She locked herself in here to protect us, and now...now she’s dead.”

  “What?” Aruzhan stammered as her tongue tried to make sense of everything while her brain struggled to catch up.

  “She was sick, my...m-
mother
,” the word felt strange on Marie’s tongue, now more than ever. “I think Cailene was sick too. I don’t really understand how it works, but I think...” she let out a shaky sigh, forcing a nervous smile. “I think it’s over. Is Cailene dead?” Aruzhan gave a curt nod in response, dragging a somewhat hysterical laugh from Marie.

  “Is
he
?” Aruzhan jerked her head toward Marcel.

  “I think so,” Marie slowly nodded, but in truth, she’d been wondering the same thing herself. “He stopped breathing.”

  As if summoned by the need to defy their protestations, Marcel’s supine form sharply retracted with a loud gasp. He craned his neck and canvassed the room, taking everything in as if seeing it for the first time. He mechanically rose to his feet as if rising from the dead. His pallid skin stretched tightly over sinewy limbs, draped limply alongside his willowy frame.

  The three Umbra waited for no word of explanation and descended upon Marcel like a pack of wild dogs, giving credence to their true nature of never adhering to sound judgment and acting solely on impulse. Something in Marcel’s eyes awakened the animal baying at their core, forcing them to revert to snarling beasts. They repeatedly lunged at him, unable to penetrate the growing barrier forcing them apart.

  Marcel sliced his arm through the air and sent the Umbra sprawling into all corners of the room, repelled by an unseen force that followed his every movement and magnified his strength. Aruzhan was the only one who’d held onto her consciousness. She struggled beneath the weight of pain and exhaustion as she staggered to her feet. She charged Marcel as soon as she’d found a promising foothold, despite the blaring protest of sore muscles and fissured bones.

  A flick of his wrist sent her tumbling out of the mausoleum, into a scattered bed of horny brambles that suffused her hide with gleams of blood and sweat. She determinedly jumped to her feet, ripping her flesh from the tangle of thorns as she beat her cracked pads over the hard ground. She saw Marcel’s demise clearly in her mind as she unabashedly eyed his jugular and steamrolled forward.

  Laylia flinched at the sound of Aruzhan biting into the silver as the door slammed shut in her face. Aruzhan used the last vestiges of strength to claw at the thinning seam and howl in protest. Laylia quivered at the echoed stir of tumblers as she futilely attempted to jerk Bria awake, refusing to tear her eyes from Marcel.

  In the dim, sanguine glow of the mausoleum, it was difficult to discern Marcel’s movements, but his motives were clear. Marie closed her fist over the key, allowing the nodules to dig into her flesh as the raised edges carved lines of blood along her palm. The sharp twinge of pain kept her focused and coherent. Fueled by a surge of endorphins, her brain restlessly connected neurons and forged pathways, racing to find a solution to save her sister and herself.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” Marcel slowly turned to Marie. “Because of you, I’m now King,” he smiled. The gleam of white teeth was terrifyingly stark against his shadowed face. “I’ve been waiting years to be reunited with Laylia, but I suppose it would be rude of me if I didn’t take the time to express my gratitude and welcome you to the family,” he laughed cruelly, crouching to put himself face to face with Marie.

  Laylia felt an explosion of conflicting emotions, inducing a wave of tremors that rattled her chest and pinched her breaths. She was thankful for the reprieve of Marcel’s divided attention, but frightened for the fate of her younger sister’s soul, destined to the thralls of Vilhant’s purple haze once Marcel was done with her body.

  Determined to do one kind thing in her life before she gave herself to the ill-fated gales, she wound her arm back, and with a trembling fist, struck Marcel across the back of the skull. She instantly regretted it.

  “Laylia...” Marcel slowly turned to the fragile woman shrinking in the corner as she willed herself not to shake. Once again, she felt like a helpless child as she cowered before him. “You’re still so weak!”

  Sensing interference from Marie, Marcel outstretched his slender fingers, draining the strength from her body without so much as a touch. Marie felt the vitality melt from her limbs, and used the fleeting vapors of energy to expand and contract her lungs. She was helpless to do anything more than lie there and breathe as she watched in horror.

  Marcel closed the distance between Laylia and him with an eager gait. He slowly raised his arm, relishing the buildup of apprehension as she quailed beneath his looming shadow. He’d felt a new power coursing through his veins. It enabled him to taste her fear as it exploded in a sweet medley of spices on the tip of his tongue.

  She bore the brunt of amassed anger and longing as he slammed the flat of his hand across the sharp panes of her face. He shattered her cheekbone with an audible crack as the back of her skull bounced off the wall. He caught her roughly beneath the armpits as her limp body slid down the silver with a horrible screech. He’d been waiting
years
for this moment. He refused to let her submerse herself into the numbness of unconsciousness as her eyes fluttered close.

  Laylia jerked herself awake, raking lines of fire across his face as she dragged her fingernails down his cheek. A horrible scream accompanied the sound of splintering bones as he crushed her delicate wrists in a single-handed grasp. He pinioned her arms to the wall above her head, using his free hand to gently stroke a flyaway tuft of blonde hair.

  She cringed from his light touch, swallowing the violent upsurge of bile as she wriggled wildly beneath his grip. The unmistakable smell of citrus and sweat burned her nostrils and corralled her thoughts.

  Marcel slapped a clammy hand over her chest, abruptly stunting her movements amidst the confusion as a putrid acid seeped from his cuticles. It raced down her armor in hissing rivulets, chewing through the metal and burning through the black cotton underneath.

  Laylia cried out as it disintegrated the tender flesh above her breasts, leaving it searing and raw. Marcel smashed his lips into hers, muffling a scream of protest with an angrily probing tongue as he cupped her breast. Laylia flinched as he sunk his teeth into her bottom lip, breaking the thin membrane of flesh and splitting her lip down the middle.

  Marcel drew blood from the fresh wound with a voracious suckling that twisted her stomach in knots. He pulled back suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. He peeled his lips back in a reflexive snarl that bared his teeth, glossed with a sickly shade of red. Laylia shuddered at the sight, turning away with racking shivers of revulsion.