Page 74 of Commanding Flame and Shield
A great huff escaped my lungs, and I studied the energy coming off the portal. It was nearly midnight, when the energy crossover would be the most potent. Slowly, my hands raised up to press into the energy, and I was sucked into a swirl of broken visions.
A world on fire. Bodies in mass graves. Grief stricken news anchors. Crushing white walls. The Horsemen, running through New York City with a legion of dark spirits on their sides. Masked demons taunting us. A skeleton of a city in ashes. Eyes, endless eyes. Layla. James. All that was visible of their terrified faces, was their eyes, as though they peaked through a small crack. A bloody Aren fighting an enormous jaguar. And then, in slow motion, a horse with wings and a warrior on its back, sword raised in the air.
The warrior was August.
I pulled my hands back. The visions made no sense. Were they parables? I turned, wanting desperately to reach up to touch his handsome face, and show him all that had been shown to me.
But his eyes were wide, and I knew he’d seen them too, as they raced through my mind.
Mass was even more packed than usual with the braids all being called home. I stood in the back, wedged between the wall and a tall gold fountain, not wanting to accidentally rub shoulders against someone who didn’t want their mind pried into. It seemed, under the circumstances, that we could use a spiritual reminder of who we were. And the priest’s message heavily focused on the war between Kingdoms. The war we all knew we had always been fighting. And our part in protecting the souls of the mortal world from falling victim to the lies of the enemy. The lies our own could fall for just as easily. The enemy that brought deceit, fear and death. The enemy that only led away from Faith.
A message pressed heavy on my heart as the service concluded. Each step I took across the tile floor for the exit seemed to echo against my ribs.
Give the battle back to me. Letmefight it.
I made straight for Aren and offered my hand for a read by his face. He stopped mid-sentence, turned from his companions who gave us space when they saw me, and he locked on my gaze. I pressed my fingers softly against his temple, the light shown there for only a moment, and he blinked, puzzled.
Are we…are we supposed to stand down?
It would seem so.
THIRTY
ALL SAINTS’ DAY
AUGUST
Alvara’s long, dark hair fell in curls across her back. She had braided several thin rows away from her face on one side, clipped into the curls with small gold rings. Full waves framed the other side. A dress the color of sea foam set on her fair shoulders. It draped all the way to the floor, making her lean frame look impossibly long. The blue gradually growing darker until it was the color of deep ocean at her feet. If it weren’t for the tall silk gloves slid over her hands to the elbow, she would have been Helen of Troy, damnably perfect, rapidly becoming my deepest weakness. Those gloves were all that reminded me of exactly who and what she was. My heart hammered against my chest as I took her in.
She was radiant. Breathtaking. An enchanted queen.
As though the change in the sound of my heart caught her attention, her eyes found mine amongst the chaos, a coy smile playing in the depths of her emerald irises. Another warrior woman was moving up the stairs, and paused to grasp Alvara’s hand, and the two smiled at each other, exchanging words and throwing their heads back in laughter. The sight of her joy made my chest swell, and I followed the pull towards her. Someone slammed into my elbow, and I realized I had frozen in the center of the hall, mesmerized. The world around me buzzed with activity, bodies weaving around me like a rock in the river. I took a great breath, and then dove into the flow of people moving towards the hall.
She met me in front of the grand doors, and her smile was genuine as her eyes surveyed me from top to bottom. The evaluation felt intensely intimate. But her smile was warm as her chiming voice greeted me.
“Well, hello, Stranger. You clean up well.”
My stomach flopped like a pancake. I looked down at the light linen outfit Aren had left for me and decided right then and there I'd be acquiring it in every color.
“Thanks. You look absolutely breathtaking.”
That heart-wrenching grin broadened, and color rushed her cheeks.
I hadn’t realized I’d reached out an arm until her smile changed to a polite nod, and she wrapped her gloved arm around mine. God, I wanted to feel her skin against mine. To trace her innumerable scars with my fingers. Together, we joined the crowd of souls hurrying into the hall. As soon as we neared the great archway entrance, the smell of rosemary, cooking meat, bread, cinnamon, and citrus overwhelmed me.
After Aren led the prayer, we were served a mouthwatering course of herb encrusted roast beef and artisan bread. The crunchy golden crust was covered in rosemary, salt, and what I believed to be sage. Small potatoes, tossed with garlic and onion, sat at the edge of the dish. Tastes so rich the best meals in my human life would now feel like sand on my tongue. I’d dined in Ivy Springs’ finest restaurants with colleagues and with Layla, and I’d experienced nothing so rich. When everyone had finished, glasses drained of wine, and talk returning to the hall, Aren clapped his hands. The scraps vanished from our plates, quickly replaced by towers of baked goods. What looked to be oddly shaped scones, glazed and dotted with raisins, sat in front of me. My mouth watered, and I reached forward without hesitation.
“Soul Cakes.” Alvara smiled at me as she offered a thoughtful explanation. She was always pleased when I was happy. “AndCatalan Almond Sweets,” she said as she levitated a small ball of something covered in cocoa powder onto my plate.
In my thirty years on Earth, I’d only seen feasts like the Grayshell celebration in movies, and I shook my head in disbelief. The distended satisfaction of my stuffed stomach, and lingering taste of the sugary orange and cinnamon soul cake were both happy reminders that the lavish feast was indeed real life. As was the beaming Goddess sitting to my left.
When I pressed for an explanation about all of Grayshell standing down and staying put, instead of returning Earthside to reconcile the damage, Alvara told me to follow her to her rooms in the tower. Before my heart could falter, she added that Alec, Fae, and Aren were already committed to joining. She knew she would only have to think of Ansel and Lana, and they too would follow us up the hard wood steps.
Hand in hand, she led me up the incandescent stairs. Even after months of walking Grayshell’s halls, the world still felt surreal to me. The nearly omnipresent glow of every surface had grown less blinding as my eyes acclimated. But it was no more normal to my still human perception. We climbed for what felt like an eternity. Many floors above the infirmary, the chatter of the hall had long since faded.
When we finally exited the spiraling stairs onto a landing, my eyes grew wide. The hallway was the same looming length as the floors below. But great wood double doors lined its bright walls. The curved tops came to a peak, and wrought iron hinges stretched across them with the ancientness of a mid-evil castle.
“This is the Commanders’ hallway. As second, I stay to his right.” She indicated the most substantial set of doors, and then led me to the slightly smaller doors beside them. When she approached, she reached down into the neckline of her dress. My mouth popped open as her long fingers slipped between her tight breasts, sending my heart sprinting and balls aching.
