Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Retla ❯ Chapter 3: Unconditional ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter Three

Unconditional

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Hearing the front door slam open, followed by a “Where is she?!”, Halo pretended she was asleep as Rita burst in, the scent of flowers filling the room as they always did whenever she was near. Today she had them decorated in her hair, no doubt for the festival later on tonight, and she stood at the foot of the bed, her hands draped on her hips and as much of a scowl as she could ever manage on her face.

Halo sighed and rolled over.

“I know you're awake.”

“No, I'm not.”

In a flash, Rita reached down and flicked her wrist, sending the cover sailing on the floor. Dressed in only her undergarments, Halo's cheeks flamed but she turned onto her stomach, draping the pillow over her head and locking it down with her arms. “I don't wanna wear a dress,” she moaned, the sound coming out muffled.

“Well, suck it up. You are wearing a dress this year, and that's final.”

“It's earlier than God, Ree.” Halo grumbled, flopping onto her back and spreading her arms.

Rita giggled and climbed into the bed, sitting cross-legged by Halo's feet. “How exactly is God early?”

“It's not like he's ever on time,” Halo murmured. `Or even exists, honestly.' She draped her forearm over her eyes as Rita stretched out next to her, tucking her head against her shoulder.

As long as she could remember, she felt as if there was no such thing as God, or a higher deity. They were supposed to ensure the peace of the people, to protect the meek and reward the strong. Halo had never had anything she could call a blessing in her life. Bo raised her to be strong. Everything she ever needed, everything she ever wanted, she had learned to achieve on her own, or she went without.

Praying to something or someone that nobody had ever seen seemed foolish to her. She couldn't help but think those people weak. The strength that they spent praying, the cattle and precious resources that they could be using to prosper and strengthen their own, were wasted as sacrifices and offerings. Even the festival that Rita was forcing her to participate was in actuality some sort of pagan ritual. She honestly wanted to parts of it, that much was for sure.

If there truly were a God, why didn't he protect her mother? The pain that plagued Halo every single day … would someone who was supposed to be the epitome and love and forgiveness truly wish this pain among his people? The purest of them all … why did he allow her to be killed?

The usual rage and ferocity that accompanied thoughts of her mother flared up from deep down in her stomach cavity and she took a moment to grit her teeth and compose herself. Memories of the time she spent with her mother were always murky and hard to bring to the forefront of her mind, almost as if there were some kind of mental wall she was always pulling against. The wall had a hole small enough for her to peer through, and over years she had been able to chisel away at it until she could fit her whole arm inside, way up to her shoulder. Her fingers would flail, waiting for something to lightly graze the sensitive tips, and she would lock her fingers and tug at the memory with all her strength. However, whenever she finally released her arm from the hole her fingers were always empty, her head aching, and even more frustrated than ever before.

 What she can remember began in this town. Her mother told her once that she was very young when they first began to live with Bo. She remembered thinking as a child that Bo was the largest human being in the world. He used to sweep her off of her feet and hold her high above his head, and she remembered thinking some days she was high enough to touch the clouds. Every morning he would wake her and take her to the trees outlining the village. They would sit in the branches and nibble on fruits and berries they had picked on their way. He would point out the flight of the birds, the crest of the sun, the shape of the clouds, teaching her everything he knew about nature and the way of the world. And later, when she was full on berries and herbs and fresh stream water she would ride sleepily in his arms. Always her mother waited at the front of the house with a lit lantern, a loving smile on her face.

And that's where her memory blurred. She knew she was there when her mother was killed, and she had knowledge of it as if she was an outsider looking in. She knew that her mother was dead, but she couldn't remember how she had been killed. She knows it had happened here in this small town, but she can't recall anything about where or who had been the one to take her mother's life. `If there is a God,' a voice whispered to her mind. `Maybe your amnesia can be considered a blessing after all.'

Almost as if she was sensing the direction of her thoughts, Rita trailed her fingers softly across Halo's cheek with a sigh layered with sympathy. The scent of flowers enveloped Halo as Rita snuggled a little closer, fingers softly weaving through her hair, a sad smile ghosting her lips as she tucked a flower into the strands and placed a tender kiss on the soft petals before leaning back, threading fingers with Halo's.

Halo touched the flower for a moment before sitting up, her reflection in the mirror leaning on the wall across from her bed snagging her attention. The flower sat stark against her ink black hair, making her skin seem even paler than it normally was. There was something entrancing about the red, red flower.

`Blood red,' she thought, almost in a trance. A beautiful, vivid, deep blood red that seemed to have no end to its depths. Rita's voice echoed nearby, almost as if someone spoke down a narrow tunnel. She ignored the voice, ignored Rita's hand touching the skin of her shoulder and stared.

Was the flower moving?

It was. It began to ripple, almost until as if it was liquefying against her hair. Drops began to run down her hair, dripping onto her skin, the heat shocking. The warmth spread from the point of contact and seemed to seem under her skin and muscles, mixing with the blood running through her own veins and igniting it, leaving a white hot burn that excited her.  The sight of the blood was stark against her pale skin, the smell of it tantalizing, running down her collarbone and chest, and finally reaching its way down her arm. She watched, entranced as the blood pooled around the tip of her finger. It pooled, pulling against gravity, and slowly fell and fell and fell, plopping silently against the floor.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

She blinked and the image was gone. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath, and she exhaled deeply, closing her eyes and blocking out the sight of the mirror.  

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Awareness slithered over him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he slowly raised his head, the familiar chains he was bound with restricting any further movement. He recognized the feeling slithering over him; years ago he had relished it. He only felt this way when she appeared before him.

Panic flashed over him for a moment, his skin prickling ice cold.

But after a few moments, she didn't appear. His eyes closed with a breath of release, the tension leaving his body, his neck falling slack until his chin touched his chest. He should have known better, should have known that there was no way she would come back here. After she was taken away from him, after she had learned who he really was, what he really was, their families had sworn that one would never have anything to do with the other. Fearing for her safety, knowing that there was nothing that he could do but submit to the wishes of his brother he had said nothing, allowed her to be snatched away from him and he hadn't said a word.

There was a space of a moment, a whisper of breath, and Esau's body involuntarily tensed again.

His intruder drew nearer, his body humming with anticipation, his fingers reaching out and tracing the line of Esau's jaw tenderly with a soft exhalation. His hands, hot and wayward, stank of blood; of death. Esau knew better than to allow his eyes to remain closed, so he fixed his stare at some point just over his intruder's shoulder, refusing to betray any of his thoughts and stayed quiet. Not a word would pass his lips, not a complaint. He hated this man, the coward who tried to kill him but found himself lacking in strength. But her life depended on the safety of his, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He heard a hint of movement just outside the mouth of the cave, the rhythmic thud of a panicked, frantic heart, and his eyes flashed towards the sound before he could help it, earning a chuckle from his visitor. The sound was layered with delight, a sick giddy excitement, and he leaned forward, meshing his mouth and slamming his teeth against Esau's. “I've brought you something, little brother.” He murmured as he pulled back, licking his lips. Esau felt his hands began to quake, his mind registering the taste of blood in his brother's mouth, the scent of blood that seemed to cloak the small space between them. “Would you like to have it?”

Esau said nothing, his gaze locked on whatever he couldn't see. But he didn't need to see it. There was someone from his people there, he could tell. But there was also a woman with them, a woman who was hurt, bleeding, panicking … He sniffed. And delicious.

He could sense the life energy seeping from the woman; could hear the blood roaring through her veins as her heart pumped the adrenaline throughout her body; her fear, sharp and exquisite, caused the demon in him to rattle the cages of his mind, claws outstretched, enraged at not being able to feed. He bared his fangs, a hungry growl pushing through his teeth as his throat began to itch, his muscles twitching in wild anticipation, and he hated himself.

Grinning, his brother waved his servant forward, eyes locked on Esau as the terrified woman was dragged deeper into the cave. Tears streamed down her face, soaking the fabric that had been stuffed into her mouth. She had been stripped naked, her body beaten and bleeding; most likely for the minions who were working for his brother, but he couldn't care less. He shifted, the cursed chains sending sparks of pain through his arms but it went ignored compared to the burn throbbing in his throat, working its way through his chest. The woman squeezed her eyes shut and strained against the rope that bound her hands together, causing the vein in her neck to pulse beautifully through her skin.

Esau, tugging viciously at the edges of his control, squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his teeth.

He heard the sucking of teeth, felt the sting of a smack, but refused to open his eyes.

“You don't want her?” His brother said, a hint of disappointment layering his words. “After we went through all the trouble of slaughtering everyone she knew, I saved her for you. Isn't she pretty?” He heard the rustling of fabric, sensed movement and against his better judgment opened his eye to see his brother reach down and grab the woman by the hair, jerking her to her feet in front of him. He leaned down and nipped lightly at her shoulder, drawing blood.

Esau's eyes locked on the bead of blood, watched as it trailed down over her shoulder to the valley between her breasts, peaking on a nipple and dripping to the floor. It was mesmerizing, the scent maddening, and he felt his control slipping. With one hand his brother grabbed her chin, angled her face so that her gaze could lock with Esau's. They were wide with fear, begging, pleading, her fear escalating to an ever higher degree that made his mouth water.

His brother licked at the blood bleeding her shoulder, his eyes drifted shut in pleasure. “Do you feel that, little brother? God … this is better than sex!” He leaned down and sank his teeth into the woman's neck, and she gave a muffled scream, her eyes widening even further as she began to thrash.

Pulling from her neck, his brother shot forward, roughly slamming his mouth against Esau's. He heard the dull thump of the woman hitting the floor, felt a hand encircle his neck, another his jaw, forcing his mouth open. Hot blood, sweet and empowering, mind shattering, surged into his mouth, down his throat. His brother kissed him for a few seconds more, touching his lips softly to Esau's once, twice, tongue darting out and tracing his blood stained lips. Esau felt a shudder run through his body as his mind fogged, pleasure radiated from every orifice of his body, from the tips of his hair to the fingers and toes on his hands and feet. His brother hungrily licked the blood that ran down the side of his mouth and jaw.

The fog in his mind began to drown out conscious thought, a chorus of vicious screams he knew he would do anything to hear again. He need more, he needed to feel more life filling his belly, he needed the scent filling his nose, the warm liquid coating his hands, or he would go mad. `No ... Fight it,' He commanded himself, knowing it was a useless battle, feeling his blood growing stronger and taking control with every beat of his heart. His eyes lifted weakly, the last of his control, and with them he cursed his brother standing before him. `Bastard,' He thought as conscious thought slipped away from him.

His brother smiled with elation.

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Halo gasped as some children ran past her, shrieking with laughter, and hands reached out and steadied her before she could fall. She looked back and gave Bo an appreciative smile, looking over him with a raised eyebrow that made him flush. “Well look at you, old man. What's her name?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered, walking beside her as they slowly made their way to the town square. This week had been a busy one. The women worked on the crops and the cooking, the decorating and the planning of the yearly harvesting festival. The men had worked just as hard, hunting and reinforcing the security measures that protected the small town out in the middle of the forest. The original purpose of the festival was a yearly sacrifice to the pagan god the original founders worshipped. It was believed that the sacrifice of their largest livestock secured them for a year. The burning of one of each of the crops ensured a prosperous season. It was also the head to the courting season, (which Halo found absolutely ridiculous and refused to have any part of.)

Now days, though, it was more of a celebration, of a way to lift the spirits of the people of the hard work, the turmoil and hardships they may face on a daily basis. The women dressed prettily, the men handsomely, the children scrubbed and sparkling and presented in their best clothes. It was silly, pointless, but she couldn't discount the air of excitement, the heady thrum of the music beating in her chest. The atmosphere seemed to be alive, slithering over her body and synchronizing with her heartbeat.

She felt Bo nudge her arm and found him looking away, not meeting her gaze, holding his arm out to her. Smiling, she linked her arm with his, and they entered the town square.

Luke and Rita were waiting for them at the entrance; Rita dressed in a pretty green dress, with a large green flower typically tucked into her hair. Luke was more casual in a simple pair of black dress pants and a black shirt. He was holding roses in his hand, for her, she had no doubt, but she ignored him as Rita dashed forward and threw herself into her embrace. “Ohmygosh! You look gorgeous!”

Halo glanced down at the sleeveless blue dress that dusted the top of her thighs. It was a simple enough dress she had thought, refusing the more outlandish ones Rita had forced her to try on after she had bombarded into her room earlier that morning. She felt, rather than saw Luke's gaze, and avoided making eye contact. A woman hurried over to Bo, whispering something in his ear, before he apologized to the kids with a guilty look before being dragged away. Halo knew his role in the town, knew that it would be a matter of time before he was called away as a solution to some problem or another, so she didn't mind at all.

Rita grabbed her hand and tugged, pointing at different decorations and showings that the townspeople had created to show off. Rita's enthusiasm was contagious, and she found herself reaching out and grabbing Luke, dragging him along with them as they discovered distraction after distraction. She ate until her belly was full, covered in grease from meats, her fingers sticky from the treats, her lips stained from the juice of the exotic berries. She didn't shy away from Luke's gaze, she frolicked with the children, and she smiled at the womenfolk, receiving some timid smiles in return. She could feel the energy of the affair, the joy of the people around her, and for just a moment she let her guard down and enjoyed herself, forgetting for a minute that with the except of Luke, Rita and Bo, she hated every single person here.

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“What happened?” Bo breathed, pushing through the cabin door unceremoniously. The other members of the Council were already there, all looking up at his entrance with varying degrees of stress showing on each of their faces. They were each dressed in the ceremonial robes of the town, as was tradition. Bo was the only one who hadn't worn his robe, and he hadn't donned it for many years.

It was part of the wind now, burned to ash, and buried with his best friend.

The fire crackled and popped in the middle of the wooden table they frequently used to hold Council meetings, each of them sitting at each corner of the table. Bo's customary place nearest to the door had been saved for him, a ceramic cup of something hot and probably delicious already set out for his arrival. It went ignored as the chief took a deep breath, bracing his hands on the table. He stood to his feet with a groan, his old age showing in the tenderness of his movements, and a nearby servant rushed to his aid immediately. He thanked him with a tired smile, almost a grimace, and folded his arms in the sleeves of his robe. “It seems the barrier is weakening. As for why, we do not know.”

“It was supposed to be foolproof,” Knell said nervously, his gaze flicking around the table. He swept his thinning gray hair back with a trembling hand, wiping sweat off of his brow. He had been twitchy as long as Bo had known him, even more so when he was finally appointed to Council, but tonight he seemed ready to take off at any given notice. Bo felt his heart quicken in reaction, dread settling into his stomach like a rock. “How can this be possible?”

“It is foolproof,” Miriam said sharply, her gaze looking at each one of them pointedly. Bo recognized the spark of something dark, a twisted kind of satisfaction when her eyes landed on him, and he ground his teeth. Her red hair was pulled back from her harsh face in a severe twist at the nape of her neck, her brown eyes narrowed permanently from years of being a narcissist, he had no doubt. There was a time when they had been friends, where her eyes were gentle and laughing. Clearly there was no trace of the girl she used to be. “There's no doubt about the bloodline of the Gate.”

Bo stiffened, a slow breath coming through his teeth as his gaze locked with hers, steel clashing against steel, and his hands fisted. Knell made an anxious noise in the back of his throat, his hands fluttering in the air as if to try and wave away the tension, but no other sound left his lips as Bo and Miriam continued to stare each other down. He felt as if he was being pulled to his absolute limits. He had run out of time, ran out of options and he knew right at that moment that Miriam knew it as well. “Whatever you have to say, just say it.”

“Fine,” Miriam bit out, pushing to her feet and pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “The only thing that can affect the bloodline is the bloodline. We all know that, Boris. What have you been keeping from us? What has that monster done now?”

“Don't call her that,” Bo shouted, jumping to his feet. His stool crashed against the wall behind him, and Knell flinched violently, a startled shriek bursting from him. Bo ignored him, leaning forward and slamming his fists on the table angrily. It groaned under the force of his anger, threatening to splinter, and at this the chief laid a calming hand on his shoulder. Bo glanced at him for a moment, seconds passing between them wordlessly before he turned away and punched the nearby wall with a snarl.

“Boris, my old friend---“

“I know,” Boris said quietly. He punched the wall again, his shoulders slumping and a sigh pushing from his lips with defeat. “I know.”

“She can access the Gate, then?”

Bo flinched, and kept his gaze locked on the wall. “Since she was a child.”

“At will?”

“Not yet,” Bo whispered.

Miriam slapped her palms on the table with an outraged hiss. “And how long have you been keeping this from us, Boris?”

“You mean how long have I been keeping you from killing her?” he snapped, whirling around to face her.

Knell raised his finger tentatively, drawing their attention. Three different gazes fell on him, one curious, the other two full of anger and hostility. He paled and cringed, dropping his hand quickly and shoving them between his legs under the table. “S-so is she more p-powerful than her mother, then?” he whispered, squirming. He glanced up quickly, and seeing they were still watching him dropped his gaze back to the table.

“That would seem to be the case,” the chief said, finally sitting back down. The servant fluttered at his elbow, disappearing with the cup and returning quickly with another full of the steaming liquid. The chief took it gratefully and sipped at it slowly, his eyes closing. “History has a way of repeating itself, it seems.”

“No,” Bo gasped, rushing towards the chief. Two servants stepped in his path, pushing him back forcefully, but he barely noticed. Knell watched him with sympathy, Miriam with unrestrained malice, almost bloodlust, but the chief sat with his eyes closed still, as if lost in thought. “You can't!”

Miriam dropped her chin into an upraised hand, crossing her legs. She seemed to be enjoying herself, as she did all those years ago. She had been almost giddy with the excitement, watching the death of his best friend. She had been the only one who hadn't hesitated to make her decision. The girl he knew was long gone, he knew. There would be no ever getting his friend back.

`Protect her,' a voice whispered in his mind, bringing waves of pain with it. He shuddered, feeling his breath seizing in his chest, ice flowing through his veins. Her face flashed in his mind, pale skin, dark hair, eyes the color of the clearest water. They had the power to set him free, or to freeze him wherever he stood. His best friend, the woman of his heart, the woman who now, even in death, protected the people that sentenced her to her death.

`Promise me, Boris.' She had asked him, her eyes were full of tears, and she was wrapped in his arms, her hair covering them both and tickling his skin. She was shivering, her face red and splotchy, her eyes wide and afraid, and her tears shining like jewels in the moonlight. Bewitching, enrapturing, cultivating. `Promise me, you'll protect her.'

“Don't do this,” he had pleaded, shoving his face in the crook of her neck, in her hair. She cooed to him softly, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and threading her fingers through his hair. He inhaled deeply until the complete smell of her filled his lungs, scalded his chest, and he bit back the sob that was trying to force itself out of his throat. “Please, Iris. You can't.”

`You two are all I have left,' she had whispered. `And I have no regrets.'

Boris took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Halo would never forgive him, he knew. But it didn't matter. As long as her heart continued to beat, as long as she was safe, he would do whatever he had to do, and if she despised him so be it. He pushed the servants aside and strode to the chief, dropping to one knee and bowing his head.

`I love you, Boris. And I have no regrets.'

“I'll do it,” Boris breathed, and he heard the collection of gasps around the room. His nails dug into the skin of his palm, stinging beautifully. “I'll be the sacrifice to the Gate.”

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A/N

Enjoy! And remember, reviews and suggestions are welcome!

-Chrissandra