Prophecy: Child of Light (9 page)

He found Prophecy waiting just the other side of the door in the hall. She looked lost. He realised that in more than one way she was. He’d turned her world upside down, had stolen her family from her, and the life she’d known. She had a lot to deal with and if she wanted to be close to him then he shouldn’t stop her. It didn’t mean anything. The things he felt were nothing. It was just remnants of her blood and a strange sense of duty to her caused by what he’d done. He felt nothing. She was a Caelestis. He was only helping her because he was responsible for her discovery. That was it. It was nothing that he felt for her. It was forbidden.

He ignored the confused look on her face when he realised that he’d been silently staring at her while lost in his thoughts. Leading her down the hall, he held the door to the kitchen open for her. He flicked the light switch and she immediately took in her surroundings. To him, it just looked like any other kitchen—empty white cupboards, white refrigerator, and dirty work surfaces.

Opening a cupboard, he shook his head when he found they weren’t empty any more. Mathias had clearly been maintaining a good façade for his human housekeeper. There were all kinds of vile food piled up on the shelves, stacked as poorly as the books in the other room.

He opened the refrigerator and bypassed the various foodstuffs as he searched for the blood. He found it at the back in a steel canister. Taking it out, he unscrewed the lid and raised a brow. He’d never been one for cold blood, not unless it was absolutely necessary. He took a deep breath. Still, it was good blood.

Taking down a glass, he filled it up and almost felt like teasing Prophecy with it when she immediately reached out to him for it. She sidled up close and licked her lips, her eyes pleading with him to let her have it. She looked like a child who was waiting for her first taste of blood—eager and desperate. He handed it to her. She stared at it for a few seconds and then began to drink. She was hungry. In under a second, she’d downed the glass and was looking to him for more.

He checked the refrigerator to make sure there was more than just the canister he held and then refilled her glass.

She took a sip and then stopped, looking at him with questioning eyes.

“It’s human blood.”

He nodded. “Were you expecting animal blood? Mathias drains the body of every last drop so he doesn’t have to go out to hunt as often. It draws less attention to him. It is a good way of working if you can stomach it being cold.”

“Can’t you?” she said.

He looked down at the canister. The thought of cold blood turned his stomach. “If I have to, but only when I am desperate.”

“That’s a no then,” she said and finished off the blood. She placed the empty glass down on the work surface and licked her lips.

When she looked up at him, her eyes dropped to his neck and she frowned. She stepped towards him, her eyes remaining locked on his throat as her hand came up.

“That’s some scar.” She reached out and went to touch it but he evaded her fingers and moved away from her.

When he looked back at her, she was still standing with her hand raised and ready to touch him. She looked at him with eyes full of hurt.

He sighed and reminded himself of what he’d decided. If it pleased her to be close to him, then he would allow her to be. He just couldn’t help reacting whenever she was near to him. He didn’t want her to touch him, didn’t want to feel her fingers against his skin or her breath against his neck. He clenched his jaw and then relented when he saw the confusion in her eyes. He closed his, lowered his head and fought for control over his feelings.

He was stronger than this.

He was just helping her.

Everything else was forbidden.

He raised his head and shut down the emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him, forcing them back into their places and reinstating the sense of calm he was used to. This was just a problem to be solved. There was no attachment to her. They would discover what Mathias knew of the prophecy and then he would do exactly what he’d been planning to do.

“Feeling better?” he said.

She nodded and he realised she was still upset by what he’d done. He touched the scar on his neck. It ran from just below his right ear down to where his collarbones met. Her eyes seemed to trace the path of his fingers and he knew she still wanted to know about it.

“I am surprised it took you so long to notice it,” he said and she leaned against the counter. He closed the distance between them so she could see it and raised his chin to let her get a better look. “Werewolf.”

“A werewolf did this?” Her eyes were wide with fascination and he was again reminded of a child. It was hard to tell just how old she was but he was beginning to get the impression that Mathias had been right. She was young.

“It was close. He nearly took my head clean off. He caught me with one of his claws. I caught him with mine. I think we settled things at that point.”

“Did you win?”

He smiled inside at the way she was staring at him. He’d never had another look at him like that. All he had done was get into a fight with a werewolf and she made it seem as though it had been life and death, a battle for the safety of the world. It wasn’t. That battle was still to come. It hadn’t even been the fight of his life.

“No.” He noted that she looked disappointed by his answer. “We called a truce.”

“You can’t draw in a fight... that’s just... wrong.” She wrinkled her nose up and frowned at him. “My instructor would never settle for a draw. If I didn’t win, I didn’t eat.”

He noted what she said. Her family had obviously trained her well. She had been able to execute her first kill without supervision and had proven that she could defend herself against others. He wondered what else they had taught her.

“He had no real desire to kill me and I in turn did not really want to kill him. What were we supposed to do?” He filled the glass again and handed it to her, urging her to drink when she shook her head. She needed the blood. She might feel fine now, but it would wear off in a few hours unless she fed properly. Two glasses of blood wasn’t a real feed. He’d make her finish the entire canister before he let her out of his sight. “Do you think one of us should have killed the other just because you cannot draw in a fight? Many wars have been ended by a truce. Our two houses are testament to that.”

“It wasn’t really a truce,” she said and sipped the blood. “I read all about it in the library. Lady Caelestis and Lord Aurorea joined the houses. Which means our families aren’t so different really. They claimed one another and a time of peace began.”

“Only now it’s falling apart.” He watched her closely.

She nodded. “Do you think the houses could be joined again?”

“The laws were changed because of what happened. It is now a sin to dissolve the bloodlines in that way.”

She just shrugged. “What does that mean anyway, dissolving bloodlines? The elders only changed the laws because they believed our bloodlines would go the way of the weaklings. I don’t think they would. Surely blood can only get stronger when it’s mated with strong blood?”

She had a point, but he wasn’t one to argue against the laws. He’d spent his whole life working towards becoming the one to uphold them for his family.

“They would kill anyone who tried.” He took the glass from her and filled it with the last of the blood. She took it back from him with a hard look, as though he’d said something terrible rather than just telling the truth.

“Isn’t peace worth it? Our families can’t war forever. We have to learn to share our city.”

“Your family could leave.”

She looked mortified. “Us? Is that what you think? You think that we don’t belong in your city, that we’re not good enough for it?”

“I didn’t—”

“You damn well did mean it like that.” She cut him off and slammed the glass down, spilling some of its contents onto the counter.

He held his hands up and backed away from her, letting her see that he wasn’t going to argue with her about it. It had been wrong of him to say something like that. Words like that were the reason why the peace between their families was disappearing. He would have willingly apologised but she looked as though she wouldn’t accept it. Instead, he looked at the curtains that were drawn across the window.

“We should get some rest. The sun has been up for nearly two hours now. We shall talk more tonight.”

She nodded in agreement and walked past him. He was surprised that she hadn’t wanted to continue the argument. He had seen in her eyes that she wasn’t about to let what he’d said go. He was struck by something she’d said earlier.

“Prophecy?” he said. She stopped by the door but didn’t look back at him. “Do you truly believe that peace is worth dying for? Would you face death in order to achieve it?”

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes bright as they met his. He could see her answer without her even saying it. She really was stronger than she looked.

She smiled and walked out of the door.

“I’d die if it meant peace between our families.”

He looked at the empty doorway and then at the glass of blood she’d spilt. Dipping his finger into it, he brought it to his lips and sucked it clean, frowning as all he could think was that it didn’t taste as sweet as her blood had.

His eyes returned to the empty doorway and he repeated her words in his head.

She really was strong.

But was she as strong as she needed to be?

P
rophecy snuck quietly down the stairs in the dark hall. She could hear Valentine talking to Mathias in the book-filled room they’d been in last night. She kept close to the place where each step met the wall so the wooden boards wouldn’t creak under the pressure of her footsteps. She didn’t want them to hear her before she found out what they were saying to each other.

She took each step slowly, biting her lip as she leaned her back into the wall and eased her way down to the bottom of the stairs.

This morning, Mathias had led her to a large room. He had promised her that they would look into the prophecy when night had fallen, and that Valentine knew his way around the house and would find his own way to a room to sleep in. She’d told him she didn’t care what Valentine did. She’d gone into the room, thanked him and then shut the door and locked it.

She hadn’t slept.

She’d lain on the bed all day staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything that had happened. She felt marginally better now and ready to deal with whatever Mathias was going to tell her.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she crept across the wooden floorboards to the opposite side of the hall. She pressed her back against the wall and edged towards the open door.

She didn’t risk a peek around the door to see where they were in the room. She just stared at the wall opposite her, her eyes idly studying the tattered fabric wallpaper while she listened.

They widened when she heard Valentine’s now familiar voice.

“I cannot do this.” He literally growled the words and she wondered what expression he was wearing. He sounded angry. She hadn’t seen him angry. He’d frowned a few times, but it hadn’t been anger in his eyes. “I am going insane, Mathias.”

“You chose this path, now you must deal with the consequences.” Mathias’ voice was soothing and she got the impression he was doing his best to console Valentine.

What was wrong?

“But...” Valentine trailed off, the frustration evident in his voice. She heard the sound of glass hitting glass. Was someone drinking? If they were, what was it alcohol? Arkalus drank. He drank so much that she had to lock her door and ask the guardsmen to stand sentinel outside it for fear of him coming to her. “She clings.”

She clenched her fists when she realised that they were talking about her and bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something.

“I cannot bear it. I cannot. I cannot stand it when she touches me. I want to push her away. I hate it.”

“She’s just young and scared. From what you’ve told me, the whole world is new to her. Think about how she feels.”

“I know.” There was a note of resignation in Valentine’s voice and she frowned. “This is my fault. I am the reason this has happened to her. I just... I need some space. I need to kill something.”

There was a sound of chair legs scraping against the floor. She edged a little further away from the door and held her breath.

“Nearly three hundred years old and still acting like a youngling.” Mathias’ words made her smile. She could almost picture how sour Valentine would look on hearing them. “Killing won’t solve anything and in your current mood, you’re likely to kill openly. If someone saw you—.”

“I would settle for some air,” Valentine interjected.

“It sounds to me like you are scared.”

She heard the creak of old leather as someone sat down and she pictured them sitting opposite each other in the two armchairs by the fire.

“I have never seen you like this,” Mathias said with a note of concern in his voice.

“What am I to do?” Valentine sounded desperate and she frowned.

She turned so she was facing the wall and pressed her palms against it. Reaching out with her senses, she tried to find Valentine in the room. She’d never realised that she was affecting him so much, that he didn’t like it when she was near him. He sounded as confused and lost as she felt. The calm façade he wore had hid his feelings well, but she could hear them clearly in his voice now that she knew they were there.

Letting her forehead rest against the wall, she closed her eyes and kept her senses fixed on him. She wasn’t the only one suffering. He had given up everything and was suffering too. It was so easy to forget that. When she heard someone sigh so heavily that it practically spoke words of bewilderment, she suddenly felt that what she was doing was wrong. She was spying on him. Why?

She had wanted them to be talking about her. She’d wanted to hear what it was they were saying. Only she hadn’t been ready for the truth of it. Valentine didn’t want to be around her. He was helping her because he felt he had a duty to do so, not because he wanted to. He was just alleviating his conscience.