Arianna Rose: The Gathering (Part 3) (2 page)

The wicked energy of the room overwhelmed him.  He felt it pulsing like a poisonous parasite, watching and waiting to strike, throbbing all around him.  But he did not care.  He needed to save the humans.

He moved deeper inside, closer to the heart of the room, and saw that just beyond
the bars, a third person stood, a man.  He whimpered softly, his blonde curls quivering as feverishly as his legs, and the woman inside the cage cried out. 

“No!  You killed my baby!  No!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her dirtied cheeks, the voice matching the one he’d heard tear through the tunnel moments earlier. 

Desmond advanced a step, still unseen by the others, his heart slapping madly against his ribcage.  The boy’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with terror and fixed on the man on the other side of the cage. 

“Silence!” the robed man
roared and ordered the caged woman. He then returned his attention to the group before him.  “The Sola has been revealed.  Her powers have matured and she will lead us to freedom.  She will lead us to power!”

Sound came rushing back to Desmond in blaring clarity.  His attention had been ripped from those caged to mention of the Sola,
of Arianna
.  Every cell inside him stood at attention, prickling, readied.  The robed man had spoken of the Sola, of Arianna, and Desmond needed to know why.  He needed to know what role he thought she played in his meeting. 

He raged against every instinct that insisted he kill the man where he stood, and avenge the girl’s death by at least slaying her
executioner.  His entire being shuddered as he resisted the burning in his fingertips, the fire that needed release.  He forced himself to stand down, to listen to more of the man’s misguided ramblings.

“I offer this sacrifice to the Sola, in hopes that she will come to us now,” the robed man continued. 

Sacrifice! The word screamed through Desmond’s core and the entire scene came into grotesque focus. 

“For the Sola!”
he heard the robed man scream and realized that if he didn’t act immediately, it would be too late, and another would die. 

Desmond reached for his bl
ades, but the robed man slashed at the air with impossible speed in one lightning-fast motion.  An angry crimson arc appeared at the man’s throat and his trembling, golden curls ceased moving.  His eyes were wide with fright and shock and he did not move at first.  The robed man had attacked so swiftly, his action so fluid and instantaneous, neither the woman nor the child inside the cage nor the man who’d been stabbed, had time to react.  It wasn’t until blood spurted from the man’s jugular that they all realized what had happened, that the man had been fatally wounded, and they began to scream, wild, panicked screams.

Desmond rushed forth and
pulled his hood from his head as he hurried past the seated audience.

“How dare you commit murder in the name of the Sola?” he roared.  “The Sola has been sent to bring peace to our people, not to slaughter the innocent!”

The robed man did not flinch at Desmond’s words.  He remained as he was and sneered, arching a brow defiantly.

“It is her destiny, you fool!
” he shouted and his face reddened to a deep garnet hue.  “The Sola will lead us to power!  How dare
you
interrupt
my
service with your nonsensical accusations?  Murder!” the robed man spat arrogantly then turned and looked between Desmond and his followers.  “You are one of us, are you not?  You should
know
what she is here for!  She is here to slay the weak of the world, to pave the way for our reign on Earth,” he continued.  “How dare you interrupt our tribute to her, to the Sola!” he growled through clenched teeth, and the room erupted into frenzied cheers. 

“For the Sola,” they chanted.

The robed man allowed their outburst to continue, only interrupting it to make a final statement.

“Kill this traitor!”
he seethed and the room grew deathly silent.

Desmond’s blood froze and f
rom the corner of his eye, he saw twenty sets of eyes begin to glow red.  He folded his arms across his chest, energy pulsing from his core to his fingertips.  Each hand gripped the hilt of two blades hidden beneath his cloak.  Both were ancient daggers that had been given to him as a child, and had armed him ever since.  He watched the men and women opposite the robed man carefully, waiting with bated breath for the first sign of strike. 

When he detected the first muscle twitch among them, he tore the daggers from their
sheaths.  He felt the heat of fire blazing in his direction, and sifted away from it, appearing and disappearing around the room.  He materialized and placed himself behind more than one robed figure and slashed at the air, fortifying his daggers with every bit of his might, and watched as they fell to the ground.  He repeated the act, sifting and reappearing behind them, and felled more than a dozen in a matter of moments, his power, speed and abilities superior to theirs.  When just six remained, the strongest among the group, they attempted to unite their forces and attack as one.  A brilliant blaze of blue blasted toward him.  Rich with the wrath of six supernatural beings, the fiery launch seemed unavoidable.  Desmond felt its heat, narrowly avoided being incinerated and moved a split-second before it burned him.  He sifted through the air as flames licked at his shoulder, teleporting, as two cloaked figures descended on him.  He reappeared behind them and slashed their throats in an immediate, synchronized motion. 

So much sifting had enervated him, though.  His daggers felt heavy in his hands. 
He started to lower them, their weight suddenly overwhelming, when a force unexpectedly blasted him backward.  He slammed against the far wall and nearly lost his grip on the two ancient daggers that had been passed down through each generation of his family. 

The remaining four sets of crimson eyes glared hungrily at hi
m, their bloodlust apparent.  Once his body hit the wall and he felt it begin to slide down, he gripped his blades as tightly as he could and tested the limits of his powers by sifting again, vanishing from the sight of the others.  He reappeared amid the lethal quartet and watched as their deadly eyes widened. 

Shocked by his ability
, but undeterred, they continued their attack, launching streams of fire at him.  Flares of fire flashed past him as he twisted and maneuvered.  Embers rained against his cloak, but the others soon learned that Desmond was far quicker than they were. 

They were all supernatural beings, but he moved with remarkable speed and dexterity, thanks in part to rigorous training his father had insisted upon, and
launched himself forward, driving both blades into the throats of two of them.  When another blaze of fire flared in his direction, he was able to disappear in time to avoid his demise and materialized behind the two that remained.  With a war cry, he rammed his blades into the back of their necks and they dropped instantly. 

He snapped his head toward the altar and saw that the robed man stared in shock.  But Desmond knew the man’s shock would be short-lived.  He
teleported immediately and positioned himself inches from the man, prepared to kill with the final drops of energy that remained in him.

“Who are you?
” the man asked and allowed only the faintest flicker of awe to flash in his ruby eyes.

“I am Desmond, son of Agnon, and the guardian of the Sola,” Desmond announced
and saw a slight spark of surprise dance across the man’s hard features.  “I have been with her for her entire life and am certain she would never condone what has happened here.  The Sola is not evil.”

The
robed man began to laugh, a demonic cackle that clawed at Desmond’s ears.

“What amuses you about my words?” Desmond demanded
with strength he feared he did not have.

“No one said she was evil,” the
robed man hissed.  “The vile creatures of this world are evil,
humans
are evil.  And they need to be exterminated.  Don’t you see?” the man cackled again.  “She is the light.  You don’t know her at all.  Just ask your father,” he spat.  “The end of humanity has been prophesied, and
she
is the medium by which it will begin!”

Desmond took an instinctive step backward, doubt and a sudden need for space conspiring against him, purging his lungs of air they so desperately needed. 
Surely, the warlock had gone mad, he was wrong.  But something about the way he’d spoken, his conviction, had unsettled Desmond.  He wondered why the robed man had been so convinced, and why he’d told Desmond to ask his father about Arianna.

As though he’d read Desmond’s mind, the man began to laugh again, louder and more perversely. 

Ire racked Desmond’s body and combined with a sudden flood of adrenaline.  Both overtook him so fully, he was helpless against his own hands.  Both stabbed forward, as if of their own volition, gripping the daggers and lodging their blades to their hilt in the man’s neck.  He quickly withdrew both blades and watched as the robed man’s body collapsed to the floor.

He stood staring at the man as life escaped him, feeling equal parts satisfaction and self-loathing.  Killing was not n
ew to him.  Throughout the near-century he’d been alive, Desmond had killed many.  But he’d never grown accustomed to the feel of ending another being’s life.  On this day, he’d taken more than twenty; some men, some women, but all had been his brethren.  All had been like him. 

Standing amid the fallen, uncertainty crept inside his mind and stole about like a thief, uninvited, unwelcome, and determined to take his sense of security.  But his doubt was quickly quashed by the weeping of those inside the cage.  He sheathed his weapons and turned toward them.  Through tear-filled eyes, they looked at him, undoubtedly terrified he would turn on them next.

“I will not harm you,” he assured them.  But the woman and child seemed unconvinced.  Given what they’d been through, Desmond could not blame them.  Instead of attempting to reassure them further, he decided that actions would speak louder than words.  He approached their cage and, focusing all of his energy on the bars, pulled two of them apart. 

“Go,” he said. 
“The tunnels will lead you out of here.  Walk with the flow of the water.”  He handed them his flashlight and still, they watched him warily.

He stepped aside and let them pass
, holding his hands with his palms facing them in surrender.  Wordlessly, they filed out and left the maintenance building and avoided looking at the bodies on the floor. 

With the prisoners freed, Desmond was left alone with the carnage he’d created, and questions.  He needed to leave, to get away from the death around him.  But first, he needed to dispose of the bodies
so that they would never be found.  He closed his eyes tightly and summoned every ounce of his power.  He felt the whole of his energy swell.  It swarmed and rose within him like a great surge of electricity until his fingertips tingled and prickled, readied.  He flicked both wrists forward, and as he did, fire leaped from them.  The blazing stream branched in several directions like lightning at his command and touched each of the bodies he’d felled.  Their flesh incinerated on contact, leaving behind small mounds of ashes.

Sadness filled Desmond, sadness and confusion.  Death followed him wherever he went, traveled with him like a dark passenger, always at his side. 
And his dark passenger kept a companion: questions.  The more death Desmond encountered, the more questions arose.  This time, the man who’d led the gathering had instigated them.  His words nagged at Desmond’s brain.  The man had seemed convinced of the Sola’s purpose, certain that she’d been sent to unite all witches on Earth for the purpose of destroying humanity. 

But
the man’s conviction did not mean his words were true.  Desmond did not know whether the man had simply created a bastardization of the truth he had guarded his whole life, or whether something far different was happening.  Regardless, Desmond needed answers.  He needed to know the truth. But first, he needed to see Arianna.

Chapter 2

“Well this is it,”
Arianna’s new landlord, John Jervis, announced and spread his plump arms wide. 

Arianna wasn’t sur
e why he was acting like a game-show host presenting a contestant with what she’d won.  It was just a cabin in the woods, not a free weeklong stay at a luxury hotel.  Besides, she’d already seen the place twice.

“What do you think?” he asked
and looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to
ooh
and
ah
over property she’d visited before.

“It’s great,” she said and
watched as his features shriveled.  She knew from the look on his face that she hadn’t been enthusiastic enough in her response.  But enthusiasm was hard to convey, especially since she’d been there on two separate occasions with a real estate agent before agreeing to rent it.  And then the ordeal had really begun.

“Hmm,” he said and arched a bushy brow at her.  “You don’t seem so sure.”

“John, of course I’m sure,” she assured him and wondered why he was so reluctant to rent the place. 
Why list it if you don’t want anyone to actually rent it, moron!
She thought.  She was tempted to ask him exactly that, but decided against it.  She did not want to waste more time trying to find another house if she pushed him too far.  So she went another way and reminded him of how difficult he’d made the process up until the present.  “And besides, weren’t you the one who didn’t want to rent this place to me?  I’m starting to think you are the one who’s not sure.  Maybe you don’t want to part with this place.  Or maybe you just don’t like me,” she said and feigned a pained expression.