A Toiling Darkness (4 page)

“Seeker.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your
company?”

“I want to know why a slauve is in
existence.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, some unknown
weight off his shoulders.

“This one only kills if it is
justifiable.”

“Justifiable?” I asked, thinking about the
word. I’ve heard it enough times.

I’ll destroy her. I’ll bring her the same
misery she brought to you, Eithna. I promise this. I will have
justice for your death.
A little promise whispered into the
depths of the darkness, carried off by the shadows to my ears a
couple of centuries ago.

Justice was given to those who did wrong to
another. It was a word I hated. Humans found injustice in
everything. “Then every being is at risk.”

“They are safe as long as they do not attack
humans. Apparently the master is really fond of humans.”

“And yet many of the beings live off of
them,” I replied wryly. What kind of joke was this slauve’s master
playing at?

He went quiet, thoughtful, before slowly
sitting up. Sitting straight up, he was taller than me
standing.

“Well, he is an angry man held down by
morals. He also fears retribution by his own master.”

“Morals.” I chewed on the word, tasted it
and spat it back out in rejection. Another stupid concept humans
created.

“You do not believe in morals?” The seeker
cocked his head questioningly. I glowered up at him.

“There is no right and wrong when it comes
to how others act, not in this world. What kind of morals would
even hold back a being strong enough to create a slauve?”

“He is simply a man who will follow his
master to the end of time but needs justice to move forward,” he
replied, using that damn word again and staying discrete, talking
in little riddles. Like usual. “He’s torn by the duties to his own
master and also in the need to right the wrongs done to him.”

“Who is the slauve’s master and what does he
want?” I asked, trying to get more information out of him. Talking
with a seeker was always sluggish—they talked like a philosopher as
they contemplated all the information they saw.

Seeker shrugged as he closed his eyes and
took a deep breath. He went still and after a few painfully long
and suspenseful moments, he cocked his head as if listening to
something. He jerked harshly, his head shaking before snapping his
eyes back open. There was now a little silvery grey where his
pupils would be.

“You. He wants you dead.” I rolled my eyes.
I already knew this. “Who-”

He jerked again and his face slowly closed
down, his eyelids drooping and all his muscles relaxing. Seeker was
going into one of his comas and wouldn’t be able to wake up for
another couple of days.

“No you don’t,” I said a little
desperately.

I grabbed onto his shirt and yanked on him.
His head rolled forward and when I shoved at him, his head rolled
back against the couch. I swore under my breath and left. His guard
stood in the door, big and imposing. I jerked my head towards his
master and he scurried inside.

When I plopped back down at the bar, Baron
came over with a mug.

“What is it?” I asked, looking at the
contents suspiciously. Baron was well known for his weird
concoctions. I had front row seats a couple of weeks ago to a woman
drinking a shot of what she thought was virgin blood and her skin
ended up bubbling, creating huge boils that when popped, showed a
new, ugly hag-like appearance. She hasn’t been back since.

“Just a little something to help with all
that rage inside of you.”

“That bad?” I asked, realizing that I was in
fact raging—one of the terms the young kids like to use. It
explained why a couple scurried away when I approached the bar,
their faces paling when I got too close. I was used to others
avoiding me when I got too close to them so I didn’t think it was
anything new. Apparently Baron could read me loud and clear. He
nodded and watched me with a careful smile.

I took a deep breath, reining in the deep
dark emotions I usually kept hidden. The bar grew brighter as I
relaxed a little. So did the atmosphere as the other patrons shared
a collective sigh of relief. The witch was still at her table, her
companion holding on to her hand. She looked like she really wanted
to talk to me. I ignored her and turned back to Baron. This was the
second time tonight my wrath showed itself. I was better than this
at controlling the one emotion that used to be the only thing that
kept me going until El showed up and taught me better.

El was a mentor who babysat me a very long
time ago. He said I was on the brink of mass destruction and taught
me control. Even with his help, it took a while to control all the
fury I accumulated over the years. He said he looked inside of me
and only found an endless dark pit of wrath. When we departed, he
said it wasn’t so dark anymore, but still needed work. Said that
would be my homework until next time.

As if there was going to be a next time.

Sniffing at the mug, I realized it was only
tea. I eyed Baron before taking a tentative sip. The drink was
laced with so much honey my eyes went big. He smiled carefully,
enjoying my reaction.

“You’re doing it again,” I warned. Baron
blinked and the soft warmth left his face. He retreated to the
other end of the bar to attend to another customer.

Baron had a tendency to treat me like a
child, the tea being a good example. I sipped it again, smiling to
myself. I gave him reason enough to. I acted just like one.

The tea was perfect.

Birds chirped, kids laughed, and off in the
distance, cars honked. The park was surrounded by trees to create a
little world where nature existed and children could play freely
without worrying about being ran over.

It was such a beautiful day and yet I was
laying here, wishing I could throttle Seeker right now. I needed to
find out who created that slauve, especially if he wanted me dead.
I guess I could count my blessings because the slauve was as naïve
as a newborn and couldn’t even recognize his target as she stared
right into his face.

Hurrah for small favors.

Now all I needed to do was end things before
he completely understood that I was his ticket to freedom.

A kid screeched, breaking me from my
thoughts. The same little girl who made the high pitch noise ran
past me, her brown pigtails trailing behind her as she focused on
getting away from the girl who chased her. The other girl looked
just like a slightly older version of the first one, her hair a
little longer and a richer brown. She had her hands out, wiggling
them as she threatened the little girl with tickles. I watched,
envious, wishing I could be as carefree as them. I’ve never had
that—someone to play with me. Someone to threaten me with tickles
or vice versa.

Maybe things would have been different if I
had someone like that older girl to play with. Maybe I wouldn’t be
filled with the rage I fought to keep in check every day. Maybe
humans wouldn’t fear me so easily and cower in my presence when I
was in my true form. Maybe I wouldn’t hate them for it either.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

El told me once to respect humans at least a
little, that their lives were fleeting and they worked every day to
make it fulfilling before they came to an end. I called him an
idiot then, and said they were only the hunted. Food for the
strong. But now, moments like this left me jealous. At least they
had a ‘family,’ people to call their own and to trust. Sometimes I
have trouble even grasping the concept of a mother or father—the
words were too foreign for me.

The closest I ever came to having a family
was with Eithna and the time I spent with her was too short. When
we first met, she used only a few words and held an upfront
attitude to gain my attention. She didn’t have to work hard to make
me want to hang out with her.

I smiled softly as the little memory rose up
from the depths of my subconscious.

When we first met, Eithna came strutting
over to me at the hotel I was staying at. Her long auburn hair
framed her face like wild fire. Everything about her was fiery. She
took shit from no one, was quick to laugh, but just as swift in her
anger. She captured me with her stunning good looks and by the way
she held herself. The strange woman was perfectly aware of how she
came off to others and didn’t give a shit. She didn’t even give any
of the humans staring at her a glance. All her attention was
focused solely on me—as if I could be the center of the world she
seemed to desperately search for. It was there in the corners of
her eyes, a small desperation I never bothered to ask her
about.

When she stopped at my table, she smiled
down at me, mischief playing in her eyes. “Hallo. Are you Akhlys?”
I just looked back up at her, wary but curious. She towered over my
table, patiently waiting for a response she was so sure of
getting.

I was only at the tavern because I needed a
little break from wandering around while I figured out where to go
next. Back then I had no real goal. I got into the habit of always
moving around and during that time, even more so. I was trying to
decide if I wanted to go to the New World or not. Start all over in
a place where legends haven’t had time to be created yet.

Where I could pretend to be no one and get
away with it.

I turned to the woman and cocked my brow.
She held a small smile, as if everything was there for her to play
with. She saw me as another toy and for once, her greed didn’t
bother me. Charisma. Eithna had always been dripping with
charisma.

“You are?” I asked in Gaelic. I already knew
she was from Ireland by the sweet Irish lilt. She smiled, even
happier with my response. She switched back to Gaelic, her words
throaty and yet soft and beautiful.

She laughed. “Is mise Eithna.”

“Eithna?” I remembered the name meant fiery.
“A fire elemental?”

“Tá, and you are less scary than I thought.
Come to New World with me.”

“Why?” I asked. She was so bold and abrupt
with me and I couldn’t seem to find it troublesome. Did I mention
she was all charisma? It didn’t even take me long to be wrapped
around her white slender fingers.

“You’re going to teach me your magic.”

She laughed at my blank expression and
pulled a chair out to sit across from me, leaning forward as her
voice lowered. “Come to America with me.”

Her demands caught me off guard. They were
really demands, nothing that she said was poised as a question. It
was like she expected me to do it. Maybe that was why I agreed. She
came, she took control, and for once I could just leave it up to
her. Making your own decisions for thousands of years really does
get tiring.

I could tell she was young, if a couple
hundred years could be thought of as young. So with the exchange of
only a couple of sentences we took off for America. Simple and yet
it led to so much more and ended with her death.

She wasn’t there anymore to laugh at me, or
to tell me I wasn’t scary. She no longer woke me up in the middle
of the day with her soft and throaty words, wanting me to teach her
something else. I missed the child’s curiosity she held about
everything I had to teach her.

I lay back down on the grass, coming out of
my memories and hating where my thoughts went while I was in La-La
land. I’ve barely thought about her lately. I worked hard not to. I
gave her a spot in my heart and now it was empty with nothing to
fill it up, right next to the other little holes created when I was
a naïve little being. Well, if the slauve got what he wanted, maybe
I’ll join her in whatever afterlife existed for beings like us. If
he was capable of doing it—which he wasn’t.

Bits of clouds floated by and I lifted my
left hand, pretending to squash them in my palm. Just like what I
wanted to do to the slauve, but not before I got what I needed from
him. With the seeker out for the count for the next couple of days,
only the slauve would know who created him and I was almost sure I
would do anything to get him to tell me. If he wasn’t under some
kind of gag order, I could do it. I know I could. Hopefully.

Usually beings are proud of their ability to
create a slauve, and yet there was no one out there claiming the
one from last night. Eithna was the last one to create one and it
got her killed by the Consort.

A goodie bag of mixed feelings rose inside
of me.

Guilt, anger, fear.

Any thoughts of the Consort were good at
doing that. My hand involuntary went to the little brand etched
into my skin, a gifted curse from the very first time I met them.
It was punishment meant for Kay, who bailed on me so long ago. He
left me ‘hanging’ as some kids like to say. He left me to take his
punishment for him. Now I carried a small brand on the inside of my
left thigh to dampened my powers only a little bit.

If that was all the curse did, I would have
been happy, but no. The main reason for the stupid annoying thing
was to cause excruciating pain that would make me second-guess
using my powers unless I wanted to feel the pain that went with it.
The etching wasn’t even fancy, just a small double ring, the size
of a quarter, and yet the mark could cause so much suffering if I
tried to tap into too much of my power.

So when the Consort came and killed Eithna,
I thought they were going to kill me too. After all, her death
could be blamed on me. I told them the truth and somehow, they let
me off. They said it wasn’t my fault, I never told her about the
spell or helped her with it. Their job was to punish or kill any
being who threatened the secrecy of our world. Eithna did just
that.

I didn’t.

I was safe then and I’m still safe two
hundred years later. Or at least I thought I was until I ran into
that damn slauve last night. His very existence told me enough.