Shadows grace, p.15
Shadow's Grace, page 15
“When we returned from Craco, you said you wouldn’t leave me,” he said. “Well, I won’t leave you. I promise. Don’t be afraid of being alone through this.”
“Thank you,” she said, her words thick, her gaze thoughtful.
“I should give you some privacy. It’s almost morning. You should sleep – hell, even I need a few hours sleep to properly heal. We’ll go through the books when we wake.”
“Okay,” she said. He turned and made it to the door before she called out to him.
“Thank you, Vio.”
He paused but didn’t look back. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You believed in me. At least . . . you do now.”
Vio hesitated. He turned to face her before replying. “It’s impossible not to,” he said, and left her.
Chapter 19
Ariel
Ariel woke to the windows rattling and what sounded like stones pelting the glass. Her eyes squinted open in confusion. She rolled over to see the clock with the large hand pointing to the twelve and the smaller hand to the ten, but then why was it so dark? Had she slept for over a day? She groaned and grasped for the phone Dennis had given her and clicked it on. The device confirmed it was only ten in the morning.
Pain shot through her pelvis from moving. Groaning again, Ariel pushed out of bed. She looked to the windows to see they were covered in a layer of ice and snow. A gush of wind assaulted the home, slamming it so hard the windows rattled and the wood creaked. Ariel winced from the force of the storm. But she didn’t have time to linger and watch. Clutching her abdomen in pain, she moved as quickly as she could to the bathroom, where she went through her routine, took three prescription-strength pain killers, and let the heat and steam from the shower ever so slightly ease the tightness in her lower abdomen.
Dressed in black jeans after the shower, she reached for a red sweater but hesitated. The sight of red reminded her too much of the violence from last night. Her hand moved over to a green sweater instead. She pulled the soft fabric over her head and kept the amulet tucked under. Ariel didn’t know where Vio was, but she assumed he was already awake. And hopefully healed, she thought, frowning at the memory of his stab wound. Though he always healed, she knew he felt pain, and hated that he had experienced four hundred years of it. He was entitled to want his death. But it still ached to think of him gone.
Ariel shook off thoughts of Vio remaining alive after their mission. She had no right to want him to, and yet she desperately did. Especially in her weaker moments like last night, when the pain and fear bubbled so far to the surface she thought it would spill over into a massive melt down. That was when she was most desperate for Vio’s company. He was both the cause of, and solution to, the emotional extremes.
Downstairs, the kitchen area was empty. Ariel grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl and decided to explore more of the house. Despite being here for a few nights, she hadn’t really gone beyond her bedroom and the kitchen. Outside, the storm whipped snow and shards of ice at the house. She walked down a back hallway, where the windows gave little light, leaving the space in a tunnel of shadows. A strong blast of wind rattled the windows. Ariel flinched and paused to try and look outside, but the glass was too coated in layers of ice to see anything.
“It started a few hours after we got home,” Vio said. He stood at the end of the hallway. Just past his large frame was an open door, where warm yellow light flickered.
“Much snow down?”
He nodded. “At least twenty centimetres already. Come,” he said, extending his hand. Ariel crossed the distance to him, the floorboards creaking as she moved. She placed her hand in his and he guided her into the room at the end of the hallway.
Ariel looked around the grand gentleman’s study. Half a dozen bookshelves, wood panelling on the lower half of the walls with gold and green damask wallpaper on the top half, though it was peeling and faded in several spots. A heavy desk sat at the back of the room, an oil lamp flickering on the surface. A marble hearth took up nearly half of one wall, with a warm fire crackling and sending light and heat over the room. On a coffee table between a curved leather sofa and the fire sat the books she had taken from the library at Thirst. Vio’s notes rested to the side, as well as the phone Dennis had given him.
“How long have you been working on them?” she asked. He motioned for her to sit. Ariel winced at a stab of pain.
“Are you still in pain?” he asked, not missing her discomfort, as he sat beside her. He was so close, his scent of fresh pine was stronger than the woody smoke.
“My drugs should kick in soon. Tomorrow will be easier. You?” she asked, her eyes roaming over his chest. Though it was no longer bare; he wore a simple black sweater and grey slacks.
“Better,” he said. “I only started on the books about an hour ago. I needed more sleep; healing from a wound like that takes more rest than usual.”
Ariel bit her lip, wondering if she should ask to see it. Not from morbid fascination, but because someone she cared about had been wounded, and she wanted to be certain he really was healing. But fearing he would suspect the former, she thought of something else to say. She looked above the fireplace at a painting that caught her eye.
“What’s that painting? It looks like, well, Death,” she said, tilting her head. The black and grey paint, and the shadows within, reminded her of those what swirled in Dennis’ eyes.
Vio chuckled. “I never noticed, but maybe that’s why I bought it. Reaching for the unattainable. I bought it in New Orleans before I came here.”
She winced and tried not to focus on his wish to die. “I’ve always wanted to visit there,” Ariel confessed. The colours, the parades, it seemed to be such a celebration of life.
Vio shook his head. “It’s supposed to be very haunted.”
“Oh,” she said, looking down, remembering why she couldn’t have a normal life. She looked away from the painting. “What have you learned from the books?” she asked.
“I’ve only looked at the books about the skull,” he said, his voice all business. He tapped the two nearest him, of which one was open, the handwriting in a flowing script. “I’m reading this one now because it’s easier. It’s recent, only about a hundred years old. But this one,” he said, handing her the older, thicker volume. The vellum pages were brittle between the covers. “I can’t read it. And the translator on our phones can’t decipher the language, either. I took a picture of one of the pages and sent it to Dennis, asking if he recognizes it.”
“And?”
“He said he’ll look into it and get back me.” Vio sighed and leaned back in his chair. “But you had a good idea, thinking the people from Craco might have sold something from their . . . whatever, death room, when they arrived here. I think this book, the recent one, was written by someone about the skull. Look,” he said, skimming to the first page. As he flipped through the book, Ariel noticed diagrams of the skull, drawings and lists, a detailed pencil sketch of Craco. He reached the beginning and pointed to a name.
“G. Wallace, M.D., and Doctor of Philosophy in history. Maybe Wallace, one of those doctors and historians you were talking about, got their hands on this book,” he tapped the old one, “and started to document what he knew.”
“What does he say?”
Vio recounted what he had learned about the book. G. Wallace wrote about a stone shaped like a skull, made of a black substance that wasn’t quite stone. Almost as though it wasn’t of this world, and believed to be ‘magic.’ Full of doubt and fascination, Wallace set out to study what he could about it, but his drawings were incomplete, like the fraction of the stone Vio had stashed away somewhere in the house. He wrote that the stone possessed regenerative abilities that could counter the effects of death. The more of the stone one possessed, the stronger the abilities. But the original skull was broken apart and scattered thousands of years ago.
“Where are the other parts of the skull?” Ariel asked. “Do you think Klassen or Ivan have found a part of it?”
“I think Klassen might have been close enough to the stone in Craco that it was a coincidence, and that he was clever enough to duplicate his abilities once leaving Craco. But if he’s doing what Dennis is worried about – creating anti-death on a massive scale – then maybe he found himself a piece of the skull to give him an extra boost. Maybe Ivan also found himself a piece of it.”
Ariel frowned. “But neither of them took the skull from Craco. The ghosts gave no indication that anyone looked for it.”
“Maybe they found their stones elsewhere and didn’t know there was one at Craco. Just knew it was a powerful location. You said Ivan had bodies waiting to be experimented on.”
Her frown deepened. “That’s too vague.”
“You’re welcome to read the books,” Vio huffed.
Ariel sat the book on the table and reached for the other three. “Have you read these?” She hesitated before reaching for them. The ghost had said they were connected to her as a spirit healer.
“No,” he said. Ariel told him what that ghost in the library had said to her. “I don’t know how being a spirit healer can connect with necromancy.”
“I guess we’ll find out. Would you like coffee or tea while we read, or something else?” The wind whipped at the windows, making her flinch.
“Tea,” she said. “Something herbal if you have it.”
Vio nodded and left the room. Ariel frowned. Last night, they had been so vulnerable after the battle. Before leaving for Thirst, they had nearly mounted each other. And now, Vio’s mood felt brooding and withdrawn. A pearl of doubt hardened within her, certain that she had somehow caused the sudden distance between them.
She reached for the Wallace book to distract from her spiralling thoughts when Vio’s phone buzzed. She picked it up when she saw a text from Dennis highlighted on the screen. Ariel swiped up and unlocked the phone, tapping the message from Dennis. She was expecting to find a photo of the book, a clipped message from Vio and something equal from Dennis. And that is what she found, about three scrolls up.
Vio: Do you know what this book is? We found it at the library in Thirst. It’s connected to the skull and necromancy.
Dennis: Found or stole? Stole and left, or stole and lit on fire, then destroyed all the shelves?
Vio: Does it matter, we have it now.
Dennis: And I have angry vampires trying to get immediate appointments with me.
Vio: Do you know it or not?
Dennis: No, I’ll look into it and get back to you as soon as I can. And if your quest takes you somewhere else, please try not to destroy it like you have Craco and Thirst.
Vio: You’re the one who chose a hurricane of a partner for me.
Ariel winced at being thrown under the bus and read on.
Vio: She’s a force. So much strength in such a small form. More than she even realizes. She’s been invaluable on this quest.
Dennis: It’s almost like you want to say thank you, but maybe don’t know how?
When Vio didn’t reply, Dennis continued.
Dennis: She is special. Especially for this quest. And she once told me her favourite dessert is apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Just as an FYI, if you want to find a way to thank her, but don’t know how to form those words.
Ariel looked at the new message.
Dennis: My contact says the language is incredibly old, and unknown, but there are faint ties to Egyptian. Very faint. They’ll look into it.
“Ariel,” Vio said. Ariel cringed and dropped the phone.
Shit, she thought. How could she explain to Vio she had been snooping on his phone? “I’m sorry, I saw a message from Dennis and didn’t think . . .” she trailed off as he rounded the couch and placed two steaming cups on the table.
“Relax,” he said, touching her hand to put her at ease. The contact instantly did. “I have no secrets from you with regards to Dennis. We need to be honest for us to be successful.”
She heard a faint warning in his tone. “I am,” she said, reaching for her cup. She inhaled the sweet scent of orange, nutmeg and cloves. Next to her, Vio sipped peppermint tea.
“What has your aunt told you about being a spirit healer?” he asked.
Ariel felt the familiar anger and guilt that burned like acid. She looked to the flames. “Nothing,” she whispered. “At least, not anything useful. Her diagnosis came so swift. A cough that wouldn’t go away. Then four weeks later she was dead. Two days after, I was leaving the funeral parlor after making arrangements for her remains, and the first ghost hit me. I knew my aunt sometimes had moments where seeing ghosts was hard on her, and she told me she was trying to help the wounded souls, and that someday I would, too. But she didn’t have time to tell me what it was like, or how to do it quickly. She didn’t tell me that the ghosts wouldn’t let go. I think she didn’t want to scare me any more than I already was.”
“Maybe she didn’t want you to leave her when she knew she was dying,” Vio said, though his tone was not unkind.
Ariel shrugged. “Maybe. I wish she had told me more. Like I’ve said, it’s a lonely life, being this close to the dead. But I can’t blame her for wanting to keep me around at the end, or all the years before.” She wanted to tell him how glad she was that she had found him, even if he was insufferable at times and distractingly handsome. Maybe if they had a chance to act on the urges from last night, before everything fell apart, he’d be more inclined to stick around longer.
“It was still wrong of her to keep it a secret from you, though you’re better than I am to forgive her so easily.”
“I wasn’t held prisoner like you,” she said softly.
“Do you know of any other spirit healers?”
“No,” Ariel said quickly. “And I asked, several times. I assumed there must be others like us. She always said our kind were incredibly rare. The closest she ever got to elaborating was when she told me that, once, many more of us were alive, but it was so long ago that it doesn’t matter any more.”
“Did you ever ask Dennis?”
Ariel shook her head. “No, I wasn’t looking for a support group. I just didn’t want what I had. It was isolating and alienating. I wish I had been more like you, and had gone searching for others like me.”
Vio huffed and took a sip of tea. “That didn’t work out like I hoped it would. Maybe you were better to stay isolated.”
Ariel met his gaze. “I don’t feel that way now,” she confessed. It was the closest she could force herself to tell him that she wanted to stay with him. Which she knew was madness; she had only known him a handful of days. How could it be possible that her feelings were already so intense? But other than the blood, the danger, the fear, the . . . Ariel couldn’t stop herself from chuckling.
“What?” he asked.
“This is just insane,” she said. “It’s violent and dangerous, but despite all that, it’s with you. And I like that.”
“You don’t like me,” he said, looking to the fire. “You like what I don’t have.”
“It’s not just about the ghosts,” she said, her throat tightening and cheeks burning. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said quickly, trying to move past her embarrassment. When he remained silent, she felt the need to fill the void. “I just wanted you to know that I like spending time around you. It’s not because of the ghosts you don’t have, or the way you were made. I don’t see you that way. And I don’t think you’ve heard that in a long time from someone who knows your history.”
“My history of coming into this world is as an experiment,” he said, the word like a curse. Ariel flinched.
“Your long history with death,” she said softly.
“That connection with death is only because I’m an experiment. That has made the man you think you’re interested in. You’re right, the women I fuck casually don’t know what I am. Those I trusted and cared about enough to tell only wanted a parlor trick and lost interest when I refused. Those who were like me didn’t want to join me. There is nothing left for me but death. You need to realize that.”
“But –”
“Trust me,” he snapped, his eyes now cold when they met hers. “Trust me when I tell you I have no love left to give.”
Ariel’s throat tightened. She really shouldn’t have said anything. She blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears away as she turned away from him. She needed some space, and was about to push away from the couch when Vio’s phone rang.
“Jesus,” Vio said, looking to see Dennis’s name appear on the screen. He picked it up and swiped to answer and put it on speaker. “What?” he growled.
“Well hello, Sunshine,” Dennis said. “Is Ariel close?”
“I’m here,” she said.
“Excellent. Vio, the page you sent me, you had another book underneath it.”
“It’s a book about the old one I sent you the text from. Someone was documenting the skull stone we showed you.”
“I thought so. But the name. Read it to me.”
Ariel flipped to the front of the book and read out the initials and last name. “G.B.Z.V. Wallace.”
“Right. Those initials, that last name, they’re rather unique.”
“And?” Vio demanded.
“And I don’t have a record of someone with those initials and that last name dying in the last three hundred years. Based on the style of handwriting, I’d say whoever Wallace is wrote the book in the 1800s.” Ariel’s heart nearly stopped. Her jaw dropped as she looked down at the book.
