Rebirth of the Seer (36 page)

Julian paused. I motioned to sit up, which caused my guardian a great degree of alarm. I heard the air displace around him in a sudden rush,
equating the sound with Julian coming to a hurried stand.
I raised a hand to stop him. He pulled his sword from its sheath anyway. “Please,” I said, rising and turning to face in his direction. The shift in weight, mixed with the texture of surface on which I sat, revealed we were in a cargo car. I felt the distinct slits associated with crates. “I am not going to do anything to you. I merely wished to sit.”

“You have silver shackles and wards around you,” Julian said, although I could not tell if he was informing me or setting his own mind at ease. The sword slid back into its sheath. “Before you try to escape.”

“Point duly noted. I did sense more than the normal amount resistance to entering your thoughts.” I lifted a brow without opening my eyes. “My watcher?”

Julian sighed. “I looked around, but couldn’t find her. Or any sign of her.”

“Damn it.” The news impacted me with a violent surge of emotion. Maintaining my composure became a struggle – I wished to rage and scream and destroy everything keeping me from running back to Chicago. Bloody shackles. Bloody magic. I felt tears rise behind my shut lids and gritted my teeth against their desire to escape. “Julian, if you have ears to hear, you must listen to me. The man who took Monica has something grave planned. All I know is that it affects your Council and, somehow, the entirety of your Order. I did not have the chance to map out his full intentions.”

What had been delivered with impassioned urgency was met with disdainful laughter. “You’re spinning tales to save your own neck.”

“You… nearsighted nitwit.” I laughed, incredulous. “You mock me to your own destruction, much the same as the Order shuns me to their detriment. I am not requesting your mercy. I am stating to you the truth of my purpose as the Fates have deigned it to be. They staked a claim on my soul and speak to me through visions, yet you daft creatures only see me as a liar – at the very moment I am anything but.”

“Now I
know
you
think I’m stupid. The Fates have given you visions?”

“Somehow, I have become the unfortunate anomaly in the cosmos. It is not a position I wanted, by any means.” My lips curled downward in a frown. “As a human, I only wished to be a good doctor. As a vampire, I wanted the next kill. I did not ask to be thrown from either camp, and the sole happiness I have been afforded through all of this has been my watcher. I sit here with callings and visions and a bloody chess match hanging over my head when I never wished
any
of this.”

Indulging a deep breath, I continued. “I am not your demon, Julian. Nor am I a hero. But the part of me that is still partly human is the part speaking when I say, search my heart. Tell me then, seer, what you find. If you sense even an iota of good, then promise me you shall take my warning seriously. If I am to be dead by their hands, at the very least, save them from their demise.”

I felt the weight of Julian’s stare, and even a tickle in my mind as I felt him prodding around, this time without any walls to protect even my deepest, darkest secrets. Whatever surrounded me had dampened my ability to stop him and even then, as he retreated, I heard a snort of disgust precede him sitting down again. “I’m not that easily fooled,” he said. “Whatever you have in there now, I saw what was in there before.”

My frown deepened. “On both occasions, you have seen the truth of me.”

“And I don’t believe that much can change so fast.”

“Peter has lived on, despite what you think is possible. I cast him into his prison and forced him to behold the things that I did, but none of that killed his spirit. Not even when he was subdued.”

Julian scoffed again. “You speak of yourself like two separate beings.”

“I have no better way of explaining it.”

“You really are crazy, then.” I heard a huff and a creak. The diminished volume of his voice led me to believe he had turned his back on me. “Or a con artist. And I’m not going to believe the lies of either. You see judgment waiting for you and want to be freed.”

“I would not shirk my judgment. Peter only w
ishes your kind be protected if–
”

“Lie back down and be quiet. Before I drive your own sword through your heart and claim you were attacking me.”

The jab cut deeper than I expected. I did as he asked, shifting on the crates and lying back atop one, my bound hands resting on my stomach with the shackles impossible weights. I could not deny the very loud voice which said, ‘
Reasoning with madness, seer? Better you save your breath and damn them to their fate
.
’ The next breath I inhaled was shaky, a mirror to my resolve.

I found myself getting lost in a thought. “You said you yet have my sword?”

“I have it, yes. You won’t ever hold it again.”

“I did not fancy I would.” Both sides of my psyche – saint and devil – spoke in unison, for two entirely different reasons. “Keep it by your side. It might be your salvation. A human swordsmith crafted it at the directive of the Fates. Maybe you were meant to be its champion.”

Julian said nothing in response. No derisive snicker or angered growl passed through his lips and neither did any hope anything I said might have come home to roost. “I shall not burden you any longer,” I said, and for the next day, I did precisely that. A string of guards waited at Seattle to take me into custody and a short ride in a van brought me to my final destination. D
uring the moments I was not
consumed with sadness and worry, I traveled two divergent
paths of thought
becoming more and more urgent as time went by.

The Fates had
weighed me and found me wanting – they had brought me there to die.
What truly happened
to me
would be destiny’s hand to play.

For the next two weeks, pain became an intimate friend.

The prison I had been thrown inside was a fortress unparalleled. My shackles
from the train
were removed, but new ones took their place which kept me confined to the extent of the four walls surrounding me. Each time my skin touched metal, my flesh would burn. Whenever I came too close to the edges of my cell, I felt sluggish, nearly blacking out once while trying to test my mettle and see how long I could endure. My blood-drenched clothing still hung on my frame like dirty rags, their former smell rapidly replaced by the stench of use which had attached itself along the trip. The moment the door swung shut, the silence which followed was
maddening
. Without even a shaded window, I had only periods of sleep to denote the close of one day and the beginning of the next.

At the very least, the darkness afforded me the chance to open my eyes.

I spent long hours lying on the ground, having not been given as much as a bed. My mind waxed philosophical while my body began to feel the strain of days without feeding.
Memories
of how I had calmed my spirit the last time I failed to eat led me toward thinking of my parents again, and once more their faith became a topic of interest. I recalled
their concern I be squared away with the Almighty so we could all meet in the afterlife. It was a matter I never took seriously with all the wisdom of a thir
teen year old. Now, it weighed
heavy
in my thoughts
.

My quest for redemption had fallen woefully short. Three more souls were dead and another lost, possibly
killed as well for all I knew. T
he magical wards fencing me in also prevented me from trying to see how far my link with Monica might stretch
, if there was still a chance she had not been murdered already
. This great mission I had been set upon would crumble to pieces once my execution took place and I would finally face the recompense I had waiting for me. I had nothing to offer the powers-that-be but
good intention and
attempts rent asunder.

The notion turned even more sobering as another day passed without so much as a whisper from my captors. My hands quake
d
with withdrawal, teeth aching for purchase on anything with a pulse. What
had
started
as a philosophical exercise became much more incensed. The old Flynn whispered at me, carrying reminders of our days when we dared God to cast us to hell so we might rule over the Devil himself. I screamed at the bolted door and curled in the middle of the floor when my ranting garnered no response. The frightening truth had been laid out before my eyes. They intended to starve me.

Before I knew it, even the fears I held for humanity
slipped
into an abyss. During my first days in the cell, I thought to call out to whoever might be hearing my repeated warnings that they were all in danger. As I
realized
a fate even worse than death had been decided for me, however, my voice was stilled, my thoughts darker than when I had entered. My one beacon of hope was probably gone by now. Why should I not curse the rest of the world with my dying breaths?

“No, you must not say that,” I said hours later while pacing the floors. My fangs remained exposed, something I had not been able to remedy since rising. Thoughts on the hereafter now bounced back and forth between rage and the animalistic need for an answer to my thirst, with brief moments of clarity interspersed amongst the two. A period of lucidity brought about by biting my own wrist was slipping away rapidly. I clutched onto it, not knowing when the next would come. “Damn you, creature. You can make them listen. Someone in this lot must be capable of reason.”

“I think you give them too much credit, Flynn. This group has never been known for its progressive thinking.”

The sudden voice gave me a start. I spun around, looking for its source while seeing no one in the cell but me. My brow furrowed, eyes darting wildly from one wall to the next. “Who goes there?” I asked. The door was yet bolted shut, its appearance betraying the silver I knew at least adorned its exterior. I drifted as cl
ose to it as I dared
. “Speak your name or leave me alone.”

He laughed. “You know my name, dark one,” he said, his voice laden with amusement. “It hasn’t yet been a week since we last spoke.”

My throat dried, stomach sinking. “Ian.” I spoke the name in a hush, working through my addled mind that he was real and not some manifestation of my decent into madness. A wave of anger assailed me like a bolt of lightning. I charged for the door, but recoiled with a hiss when touching it singed my hand. “You son of a bitch.” I stepped backward again. “How dare you come to me like this?! If I could reach you, I would rip you into pieces for what you have done.”

“What I’ve done? I seem to recall warning you against this.”

“You warned me of nothing.” I scowled. My shaky hands rubbed together. “You threatened us and stole my watcher when I would not play along with your dance.”

I heard the faint sound of tsking. “You’re looking at this all wrong. Once again. Remember? I told you things were about to get much worse for you and your fetching witch threw me away from her before we could talk like civilized monsters. Now I come to you as a savior and you still
attack
me with threats.”

“You are no savior. You are my enemy, and when we face each other again, I shall put you through the same torture you inflicted on me.”

“I inflicted on you? Let’s examine this for a moment, shall we?” His voice changed in location. I pictured him pacing from the door to further down the wall. “My second impaled you with a sword
, true
. And yet, we ensured you would live through that. I believe your former allies even made mention of this when they questioned your loyalties.”

“The innocent men you slaughtered.”

“Nobody is innocent. Not the least of which includes your captors. Look at this cage.” I glanced around at his direction. “Silver. Incantations. Isolation. They have you handicapped and have been squeezing the life out of you for six days. Have you figured out what they’re doing to you yet?”

I frowned. “They are starving me.”

“Precisely. You know that precious lucidity you cling to right now? Within two days, it will have vanished. You will be twisting and screaming and scratching at the walls, ready to consume anything that crosses your path. You will be so driven from yourself, you won’t even know your own name. You’re too young to weather it any other way.”

My eyes shut. My throat became that much drier. “And then, I shall die?”

“Oh no. The Order is nothing if not given over to its own form of pomp. The moment you’re too weak to fight them – past the point of even your most animal impulses – they will finally come for you and drag you bound into their place of judgment. That is where you will die.”

Slowly, I sat, palms touching my legs as my eyes focused on the door and the impossibility of escaping. My lids drifted shut. I sighed. “So you have come to mock me in my final hours.”

“Far from it, Flynn. I’ve come to tell you that your witch is alive.”

My eyes flew open again. The fangs which had been impossible to retract slid back into place while I came to a wobbly stand. My hands balled in fists, desperate to hold onto hope anew. “You have not killed her?” I asked, incredulous.

Ian laughed once more. “What use would she be to me dead, Flynn? She’s much more valuable alive. Untouched, too. Well, for the most part. You do have to keep in mind she’s very stubborn and
doesn’t
see any of us as the
heroes
in this equation.”

I perked an eyebrow. “What have you done to her?”

“Detained her, admittedly. You both are like wounded animals. You would still bite the hand that frees you, so here you linger and there, she does.” His pacing stopped abruptly
. I heard the sound of shoes scu
ffing against the gritty ground. “She tries to speak to you. I have even caught her crying for you. The one human on this earth who longs for your presence and fate holds you cruelly at a distance.”

My heart sank at the mere notion of Monica just as alone as I was. Sentiment threatened to summon tears. I barely suppressed the urge to allow them to the surface. “What do you want of me, then?”

“To finally learn the lesson, dark one. To see the way of mortals before
you. This is how they truly are,
no
less flawed
than us. Hiding behind a supposed veil of righteousness while their hands are stained with both the blood of our people and the blood of theirs. They drown in hypocrisy while we are unapologetic about our natures. And this is what they condemn us for.” His voice faded for a moment. It resurged beside the door again. “Would you lie down and die for them after all they have done to you? Would you truly still fight for them?”

I sighed. “I have no resolve left with which to fight anything.”

“Ah, but you do. Or you will, when we reach the time of your reckoning.”

I did not respond, mind beginning to swim with a myriad of conflicting thoughts. Ian continued speaking in softer tones. “You know I have my plans, Flynn. And I mean to exact them very, very soon. I promise not one hair on her head will be harmed if you cooperate with us, and unlike the humans I don’t speak such promises falsely. It will be done as I say. I’ll neither kill her, nor torture h
er, nor force her to turn. H
er fate lies in your hands.”

“How can I do anything so long as I am locked in here?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” A light tap echoed on the ground. It brought with it the memory of Ian’s cane. “I wish I could free you now and wreak delicious vengeance upon the Order this very moment, but everything has its time. And your lesson isn’t fully learned. Just
remember
, when you emerge from your private hell a
s a
battered, weakened shell of yourself
,
precisely
who put you there and chains you to face their kangaroo court.”

I drew a shaky breath inward. “And if I refuse?”

Ian chuckled, his voice taking on a diabolical tone. “Then I will enjoy every minute of killing your watcher. I’ll savor her blood and her body until she begs for death and then, I will grant it to her slowly. Not what you want to hear, I know, but once again, I’m a man of my word.” He paused. “Is that what you want, Flynn? Surely it’s not.”

I shut my eyes tightly, refusing again to respond. The edge from Ian’s voice had vanished when he issued his final words. “You don’t have to choose your path this moment. Endure your final trial first. But when your mortal reckoning is asked for, mine will be as well. Be mindful you choose wisely, lest you send your lover into the afterlife.”

His cane tapped the door twice and with that, he was gone. I settled onto the ground again, bringing my knees up to my chest and resting my forehead against them. As my nerves settled, the remaining embers of mental clarity were spent wrestling against the devil. Without hesitation, I knew what Monica would have to say if she were seated beside me. Talk of larger consequences would be met by assurances that this is what the Fates would have deigned, but I was too tired to care for the greater picture. Desperation filled my mind, leaving me flailing like a drowning man for whatever might save me. Surely there was a line to be walked. Surely I could succumb without damning the entirety of the Council.

My remaining empathy would be extinguished in the days to come, however.

The next evening, I awoke with a moan, taunted by even the faint scent of blood still attached to my clothing. By the next night, though, a feral need ripped through me, the night a blur of ranting and screaming. My progression into insanity reached its apex when my fingers bled after scratching at the ground and my only blessed moments of peace came after clawing at the walls submerged me in the magical dampeners protecting the confines of my prison. I blacked out only to wake hours later and rage myself into exhaustion again. The constant smell of my flesh searing against silver filled the air. My steady climb downward left me a deranged, damaged mess.

By the fourteenth day, my mental faculties flickered on and off, but I was too weak to move. When my cell door flung open, I hissed against the light and tightly shut my eyes, forced to endure blindness once more. A pair of strong hands freed my shackles only to secure new on
es around my ankles and wrists.

“
Don’t hiss at me, little vampire.
”
I was barely able to form the thought that the
di
ssonant voice vaguely resembled
Julian’s
before he demanded, “Now, get up.”

I felt like saying I could not, but found myself dragged to my feet anyway. A hearty shove forward threw me against a wall, but when hitting it failed to bring the same magically-induced delirium, I knew I stood outside the
confines of my cell again. S
trong hands gripped my bound wrists and forced me forward, searing my skin in the process. The pitiful moan I heard being issued in response was detached and yet, sounded distinctly like it passed th
rough my lips.