Arianna Rose: The Gathering (Part 3) (12 page)

His father reeled backward as if he’d been shoved.  “She is not to be with you.  You know that.”

“Whomever she is with, she will not lead you.  She will not destroy mankind.  I will not allow it.”

Desmond turned his back on his father, an act of disrespect he’d never imagined himself doing.  “I am leaving, father.  I am going to tell her everything.”

“Desmond!  Stop this instant!” his father roared at him as he quickly dressed.

“You cannot stop me, father.”

Desmond opened the front door and stepped out into the icy daylight.  Cold quickly penetrated the layers of his clothing and blistered against his flesh.  He summoned his strength, and threw his warming shield up before him.  Warmth immediately drove down the bitter air.  But a chill still remained in Desmond’s bones.  His father, the prophecy, his purpose, all of it had been a lie. 

As he contemplated the validity of the prophecy, he realized there was an advantage to its faults.  He no longer had to live by its words.  He could be with Arianna.  He did not give a damn about ancient
predictions and oracles anymore.  He loved her and he suspected she had feelings for him as well.  He would return to Hallowed Hills, beg for her forgiveness and tell her everything.  And if he had to spend the rest of eternity proving to her that he would never reject her again, in any way, he would be happy to do so.  She would be his, and he would be hers. 

Chapter 9

Agnon watched as his son
had swept out his front door in a self-righteous flurry.  He stood, glaring at Desmond’s disappearing form with his arms folded across his chest, seething and wondering how it was possible that the two of them shared the same DNA.  Desmond was a fool, a sympathetic, sanctimonious fool who wore his weakness for the world to see.  He’d always been that way.  Since he was a boy, his compassion for all living things, human beings in particular, had been evident.  Agnon had known it would be a problem someday.  However, he’d just assumed that rigorous training and minimal affection followed by time spent submerged in society would change his views.  That once he saw them for what they truly were – arrogant, selfish creatures who’d raped their planet of its precious resources – it would harden him.  But it hadn’t.  To the contrary, being appointed the Sola’s guardian and living among humankind had not had the effect Agnon had hoped it would.  In fact, each time Desmond visited, he seemed softer than when he’d left.  And softness had no place for what was to come.

An uprising was on the horizon, a viol
ent uprising.  The Sola would helm it.  She was the linchpin, the unmatched being among them who would lead them to triumph.  Desmond did not think her capable of such a task.  He did not believe she possessed the capability to separate from the species she’d existed in her entire life, to turn from them, to take their lives.  He was wrong.  Dead wrong.  Agnon was certain of it.  Desmond did not understand that with each day that passed, the human side of the Sola seeped from her.  The human blood she was born with was being replaced with the essence of her true self, weeding it out much like the witches and warlocks of the world would weed out human beings.  She’d always possessed traces of her true essence, but had existed as a hybrid creation; until now. 

In the past she’d likely enjoyed benefits associated with being a witch such as a high threshold for pain, robust immunity and a body far sturdier that the average human construct that was less prone to injury. 
Now, however, she was sure to be at the great precipice of her transformation, on the verge of plunging into the most glorious moment he, and all those like him, would have the privilege of witnessing.  That is, if Desmond did not dissuade her from embracing all that awaited her.

Free will remained a potential hitch in their destiny.
  The celestial joke of all celestial jokes and proof that the Creator had a wry sense of humor, free will hovered above his people like an invisible ax waiting to fall.  Though it had not been foretold anywhere by anyone, there still existed a slight chance for her to avert her fate.  And right now, Desmond was hell-bent on exploiting that slight chance.  If he held even the most trivial of influence over the Sola, he could sway her.  He could destroy all that Agnon had been waiting for.  He could not allow his son to prevent the revolution from happening.

Agnon pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.  Tension
heaped at his neck’s nape and bunched his muscles unpleasantly.  He knew he needed to act. He needed to stop his son.

Stopping Desmond would not be an easy feat. 
He would not listen to reason.  Brute force would be necessary.  And that would be a challenge.  After all, he had trained with the best.  He had trained with Agnon.  While he could not bring himself to murder his own son, he did know of someone or
something
rather, that would be eager to do it for him.  Charged with ensuring Agnon’s safety for as long as he could remember and aptly named after the Greek god of death, Thanatos existed beneath Agnon’s compound, perpetually ready, waiting to kill. 

Thanatos was gifted to Agnon from an elder warlock centuries ago.  A legend maintained that Thanatos had transcended time and space and was from an ancient realm.  Judging from the beast’s appearance, Agnon could hardly argue the legends. 
Thanatos’ sole purpose was to protect his master.  He patrolled the frozen landscape while Agnon slept and had thwarted more assassination attempts against him than could be counted.  And now, he would be dispatched to deal with Desmond.

As Agnon walked from the window to the kitchen, a slight pang of remorse caught him off guard.  He knew Desmond had to go, that there was no other way.  But dying by
Thanatos’ hands seemed excessive.  He was well aware of Thanatos’ skills, how he was unrelenting when pursuing prey.  Desmond would not die a quick, honorable death.  The thought sent a shiver up his spine.  He would need to force such details to the back of his mind.  He was acting for the greater good, for the whole of his kind.  He repeated that over and over again as he grabbed a large key from a hook on the inside door of a large pantry closet.  He gripped it tightly as he left the room and went directly to the first door in the hallway off the kitchen.  Beyond the door was a wide stairway that led to a finished basement.  Stark black tiles glistened in the bright overhead lighting.  The soles of his shoes moved soundlessly over their heated surface as he sped to a door in the far corner.  With each step he took, his grip on the key grew tighter and tighter until the metal punctured his skin.  He breathed in short shallow pants despite his stellar physical condition, a rush of emotions crawling through every part of him. 

Intent on ignoring them, he raced down a narrow stone staircase, and stopped in front of a large steel door.  His fingers trembled and fumbled with the single key.  Sweat stippled his brow and he brushed it away with the back of his forearm.

Beyond the door, a guttural howl scraped down the corridor and caused every hair on Agnon’s body to rise.  As if the beast sensed his master’s approach, Thanatos could be heard clambering loudly.

Agnon took a deep breath and slid his key into the lock and turned it slowly.  Than
atos burst forth eagerly, each of his four powerful arms flailing wildly. 

“Easy, Than
atos,” Agnon spoke.  “Easy.”

Than
atos stopped thrashing and straightened his posture inasmuch as his haunches would permit.  Almost standing, he towered at nearly seven feet tall.  Every inch of him was muscled.  Four hulking shoulders protruded just beyond his thick, short neck and extended to four equally hulking arms.  Pectoral muscles rose like mountains in the upper portion of his torso and descended to the only set of twelve abdominal muscles Agnon had ever seen.  His narrow waist flared to two brawny legs sturdy enough to balance the tremendous mass of his upper body.  Thanatos looked every bit the predator he was.  And his face, perhaps the most arresting part of his overall appearance, looked even deadlier.  Closely spaced eyes bearing the color and hardness of topaz glared out from a forehead that overhung them.  Between them, a narrow bridge sloped down to an upturned snout that rested atop a mouth with a considerable under-bite.  Two large canine teeth, pointed and waiting like spears, jutted out from his jaw, too large to fit inside. 

While most would have gasped or fainted at the sight of Thanatos, Agnon had grown used to him.

“Thanatos, I have a job for you,” he said.

Thanatos could not speak
, but the generous stream of saliva that dripped from his mouth indicated his readiness.

“You will find Desmond,” he ordered. 

The beast cocked his head to one side.

Agnon did not believe Thanatos meant to question him, but bristled
, nevertheless.  Desmond was his son, and even a creature as dense as the one before him understood he was second only to Agnon himself, the most powerful warlock in the world.

“You will find him and kill him,” Agnon asserted.

Several eager huffs erupted from Thanatos and one of his colossal legs began to scuff the concrete floor he stood upon, scraping impatiently like a bull preparing to charge.

“Go!” he ordered him and the beast turned from him and stampeded in the opposite direction, to where the underground tunnels split.  One side led to
Thanatos’ lair, and the other to the frozen world beyond the compound, to Desmond. 

Agnon closed his eyes and listened to the thunderous clamor of
Thanatos’ hooves as they tore off, the sound as pulse-pounding as the hurrying of the horsemen of the apocalypse.  Dispatching the beast all but guaranteed his son’s demise, a thought that left his head whirling.  But Agnon took comfort in the fact that Desmond’s end meant the dawn of a new era.  He would sacrifice his only son so that their kind could rise to power. 

Chapter 10

Arianna s
tood in front of the cheap, full-length mirror she’d purchased at the local super store and attempted to get a feel for her new outfit.  The fact that the mirror reflected a slightly distorted image did little to bolster her self-confidence.  She should have splurged and bought a more expensive one.  She did have a substantial amount of money now, thanks to Kane and his crazy followers.  But old habits were hard to break.  A lifetime spent clipping coupons and counting pennies had made it impossible for her to splurge on luxuries.  Even the outfit she’d bought to wear out was chosen from a reduced rack at a retailer she never would have dreamed of paying full price at. 

She ran her hands down the front of her n
ew jeans.  The feel of the dark-wash denim was a better quality than any she’d ever worn before. It hugged her curves in all the right places.  She twisted to glimpse her backside and a fleeting thought of Scott breezed through her mind.  He’d been nice to her in the last few days, and helpful, just by acting like a normal high school senior.  Normality was something she’d desperately needed, especially after all the cloak-and-dagger nonsense surrounding her abilities and her destiny.  She didn’t know what all the secrecy was about.  She was the Sola, therefore, logic reasoned that she ought to be the most informed person of her destiny and her abilities.  But she guessed logic had flown out the door the day she’d flicked her wrist and slid a chair across a room.  It had also escaped her when she’d watched her mother and Luke die.

A
twinge of guilt stabbed at Arianna’s heart.  Here she was preparing to go to a party with her new friends when her world was upside down at best.  Her mother’s death, Luke’s death and then the mortifying incident with Desmond had not been minor setbacks.  They’d been crushing obstacles.  If she were like any normal person, she would be in her pajamas nursing a cup of chamomile tea and tending to her shattered heart.  But she wasn’t normal, was she?  She was Arianna Rose, a damned super-witch with superpowers who hadn’t the vaguest idea what the hell she was supposed to do with them.  Her temples began to throb.  She rubbed them with both hands and contemplated calling Jess and canceling. 

Before she went to grab her phone from her bag, she glanced at herself a final time.  The clothes were great, the makeup was fine and her hair had cooperated.  But inexplicably, she did not feel like herself; perhaps because she wasn’t the self she’d been her whole life any longer.  Her eyes traveled down to her feet.  Trendy boots in a sleek style
made of supple leather rose to just below her knee and made her legs look a mile long.  She plopped on her bed and slipped both off before sliding her motorcycle boots out from under her bed.  The leather was worn and scuffed in some places and the zipper at the side had to be jiggled several times before it grumpily agreed to rise or fall, but they were more
her
than the others.  A bit distressed and by no means perfect, they felt familiar, comfortable.  And in that moment, she realized her mother would want her to grab at any bit of happiness that came her way, just as she had.  Cathy Rose had always lived for the moment and never allowed a chance to party to pass her by.  Thinking of her mother’s zest for life made Arianna’s eyes fill with tears.  She blinked them back, determined to honor her mother’s gusto, and decided not to cancel.  Instead, she waited patiently until headlights appeared outside her cabin.

She watched as Scott climbed
out of his Jeep Cherokee and strode to her front door.  He rang the bell and she grabbed her coat and bag from the couch.