Souls of Fire (25 page)

As if it had been someone else … some other woman who had stolen and made off with my memories and feelings.

The only thing that remained with me was a sense of … wrongness … for lack of a better word ― a horrid aftertaste.

My heart felt empty and cold, bereft of the sensations I should have felt, should have remembered and treasured. It had been the first real kiss we had shared, the first time he had opened up to me and bared his soul.

It should have meant something.

It should have been special.

Instead, it was … nothing.

A dark destitute pit of a hole where nothing lived and nothing would blossom.

Tears silently rolled down my face as I wondered about the meaning of my lack of memories and if it would always be this way. For, even though I didn't remember what had happened, I had a gut feeling about our situation.

I sensed that this was only the beginning of the misery that would befall us. I couldn't have explained the feeling I had to anyone without coming across as being totally insane, but I somehow knew in my heart that I was right about this. The feelings I had for Aaron and my very first encounters with him had had a violent undercurrent to it. Finally, I thought I understood:

We were cursed … our love was damned.

Silent tears erupted and slowly snaked their way down my cheek at this realization. It was our destiny to be utterly miserable.

Star-crossed lovers. Wasn’t that what the book had said? Somehow I knew it referred to Aaron and me.

Before I could further dwell on it, I suddenly became aware of my surroundings.

I was in an upright position, sitting in a wing-backed armchair made out of beautiful dark-brown leather. Under normal circumstances I would have appraised the beauty of the old piece of furniture.

But the fact that I was tethered to the chair with a vast amount of rope was somehow lessening my appreciation. I must have lost consciousness again, for I couldn’t remember having been brought here.

The chair sat right in front of a desk that had been chiseled straight out of the surrounding stone walls of the rather small circular cave. There were rows upon rows of ancient-looking leather-bound books lined up on what seemed to be stone bookshelves carved all along the walls of the cavern.

Several small spheres of warmly glowing light were hovering in the air all around the small space. I couldn’t imagine how on earth these spheres were able to emit a light, seeing as there couldn’t possibly be any source of electricity in these caves. Apart from that, I had never seen any light source before that had the ability to just float in mid-air. Either I had finally lost my marbles … or …

No, I definitely lost my marbles!

There was an empty armchair that sat on the other side of the desk opposite me. The desk was cluttered with all sorts of things I would have rather expected to find as props on a movie set for some fantasy production.

There was a set of larger and smaller clear crystal orbs, a large and impressive feather that looked like it functioned as a quill, as well as bits and pieces of old and musty looking parchment, and several large piles of books, stacked randomly on top of each other.

But the strangest item by far sat on the very edge of the desk to my right.

It was a large, magnificent-looking globe that floated inches above the surface of the desk, turning around its own axis while emitting a soft golden glow. The thing that was strangest about this globe was the fact that there were no marks upon it at all. Where there should have been outlines and designations, there was nothing.

A globe without borders.

And though it hardly seemed possible that anyone could even recognize the object to be a globe without any of its characteristics, I knew exactly what I was gazing at: Earth.

Earth as I had never seen it before. But as I sat staring at it, it suddenly made perfect sense to me. I was not looking at the earth I had learned about, I was seeing something of larger value: its essence.

I didn’t know what to make of this cozy little cave that resembled a sophisticated study with rows of old books and classy armchairs, while the latter rested on dusty earth in the middle of … nowhere … certainly no place anyone of importance would ever stray.

So, what was the point in building such an elaborate, refined study if it was underground where close to no one would ever see it?

Unless someone had built it as part of a real home, which was absurd because: who would want to live underground?

As I sat contemplating my surroundings, two men suddenly entered from behind me, carrying an impressively large figure between them. The men sat Aaron down onto an armchair next to me and started securing him to the chair.

As they tied his hands behind his back, Aaron’s huge, muscular arms bulged, hinting at the immense power they possessed. All the while, his head sagged onto his chest, his hair falling into his face and covering his eyes ― he was obviously unconscious.

“Aaron,” I whispered desperately, my voice trembling from fear and exhaustion.

No reaction.

I felt forlorn without him. I was in way over my head, dealing with … people … who wielded forces way beyond my understanding and control. These people could decide to kill us on the spot, and there was nothing I could do about it. More than anything, I needed to feel Aaron’s presence now. Whatever we faced, I could endure it, I could accept it … but I couldn’t do it alone.

I closed my eyes … and reached out. I could only feel fragments of Aaron’s consciousness. After a second I realized that this must be the result of his being out cold.

Before I could further ponder his condition, another presence entered the small cave. Immediately, the air itself seemed to leave the space as the study filled up with ripples upon ripples of power. They rolled over me like heat waves on a smoldering hot summer’s day, weighing me down with every suffocating breath I took.

I sat hunched over in my chair, desperately sucking in the air that would not give me relief.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” I could make out a deep mature voice coming from somewhere opposite me. As the suffocating sensation suddenly subsided, I was able to raise my head. Slowly and cautiously, I peered into the eyes of the powerful man that sat opposite me behind the massive stone desk.

The sight of him was really something to behold. Though he was sitting down, I could tell that he was a tall man. He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, but his body still looked strong and muscular.

His short thick, nearly white hair had at one time probably been a deeper shade of black. His posture, the very way in which he held himself, demanded respect. This was a man to be reckoned with ― a powerful man … a leader.

The most intriguing, or perhaps disturbing thing about him, however, were his eyes. They were a stunning shade of deep blue, intelligent and insightful ― burning with a fierce fire, and piercing through me in a way that made me feel insignificant and small … as if this man knew all my secrets and could see right into my soul.

There’s something about those eyes,
I thought. They just seemed so … no, I must be mistaken. I didn’t know the man. I had never seen his eyes before…

I didn’t know how exactly to respond to his apology. If by ‘inconvenience’ he was referring to the fact that I had felt close to choking to death, then he had just managed to completely and utterly discount my suffering with one little word.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I often find a small demonstration of my power to be greatly beneficial to my cause.”

“And what cause might that be?” I asked boldly, feeling the justification to address the stranger freely, since he was clearly seeking an open exchange, judging by the way he had addressed me and by his ‘civility’ in apologizing. Had he not wanted to communicate with me, he would probably not have bothered to try to be civil and would have already proceeded to bashing my head in.

“Well, my dear, it would be very unwise of me to … how is it you younger people put it? ― spill my guts ― during the very first conversation with you. Then you would have nothing interesting to look forward to.”

I had nothing to say to that, and instead waited patiently for him to mention what he actually had in store for us. Why weren’t we dead yet? We had witnessed ― well, not exactly witnessed the death ― but stumbled upon the body of Aaron’s friend, or more precisely, adoptive father.

And it didn’t take a genius to know who must have been behind his murder. So, for having seen the body and the men who had been present at his house, I was sure that Aaron and I would not survive too long after the interview. It was only a matter of time.

“Now,” the stranger said in a completely relaxed voice, lightly pressing the fingertips of his hands against each other while leisurely stretching and assuming a more comfortable position in his armchair. I thought he looked more like a storyteller in the introduction scene of a movie … getting ready to entertain the viewers. The only things missing were a blanket and a pipe.

“I think we should wait for your lover to join the conversation,” he then continued, gazing in the direction of Aaron’s limp body. After a few seconds, Aaron actually started stirring a bit. Finally, he regained full consciousness and sluggishly opened his eyes.

“He’s
not
my lover,” I retorted quickly, hoping Aaron was still too out of it for any of this to register on his still foggy brain. I tried to convey an utter disregard for my professor.

This man did not need to know the extent of my feelings for Aaron. He already held enough power over us. I didn’t want to give him even more by betraying our relationship ― or whatever it was we had.

“He’s not your lover?” the stranger retorted, his voice oozing disbelief with every syllable. “So …,” he continued leisurely, gazing in Aaron’s direction and making sure he was conscious enough to be along for the ride, “… you would call rolling around on the floor while kissing and groping at each other as ‘not being lovers’? Do you make it a recreational habit then of rolling around on floors with men who are not your lovers?”

He’s definitely enjoying this
―
asshole!
I thought savagely.

“Who are you?” I asked in a rather rude way. He could be as ‘civil’ as he pleased. We were being restrained and held underground. As if that wasn’t enough, the guy was mocking and humiliating me in front of Aaron. As far as I was concerned, he at least owed us a name.

Instead of being affronted by my ‘lack of manners’, the man actually seemed rather amused by my rudeness. He was obviously deliberating on how much information he was willing to share and took a long time in answering.

In the meantime, Aaron seemed to have completely regained his senses; one sideways glance was enough for me to tell that he was thinking hard about our options and the mess we found ourselves in. I could definitely see wheels turning.

“Why don’t you let her go,” he suddenly said calmly. “She can’t be of any use to you. She’s nothing, just a student who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time … you don’t need her. You’ve got me.”

“And what exactly would I need you for?” the stranger asked, slightly taken aback by Aaron’s sudden declaration but seemingly not disinclined to discuss the matter further.

“Unlike her, who had no connection to … Adam Wright …, whatsoever, I had a deep connection to him … so … maybe I can help you with … some answers.”

“You’re assuming then that … actually you’re assuming a number of things,” the man answered. “Firstly, you’re assuming that I’m seeking answers I don’t yet have ― I assure you, I have all the answers I’ll ever need.”

“Secondly,” he continued, nodding in my direction, “you’re assuming that Miss Jones is an innocent who has absolutely nothing to do with my concerns or the concerns of the people who depend upon me ― you couldn’t be farther from the truth.

And thirdly, you seem to labor under the misapprehension that I, or any member of my society, intend on doing you harm.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I think we’ll be taking our leave fairly soon,” Aaron retorted, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t that just be too easy?” the stranger responded calmly. “Now you know that it can’t be that easy. Of course I can’t just let you go. However, that does not mean that I intend to kill you or hurt you in any way.”

“You mean, the same way that you didn’t intend to kill or hurt Adam Wright in any way?” Aaron’s voice had taken on an icy, deadly edge.

“And this would be the final, and I suppose most significant misapprehension of all.
We
did not kill your … father. Nor did we in any way participate in his demise.”

“You
know
he’s … he was … my father? That he had adopted me? And what did you mean by ‘we’? Who is ‘we’? Who are you people?”

“You mean to tell me that you don’t know?” the stranger asked, somewhat taken aback. It seemed he had not anticipated this. Obviously this man had thought we knew whom we were dealing with.

“No,” Aaron responded testily, “should I?”