Bittersweet (40 page)

Their voices were so clear, and yet I couldn't see them. Or move. Or speak. What was happening to me?

“She's in your care for an instant and yet you could not secure her safety.”

“This is not my fault, nor my doing. You know there are still those who hunt her. Both here and there. She will never be truly safe from them.”

“You are wrong. She will never be safe with
you
. She was with me because I will always put her first. Whilst you— you put your life, your kingdom, and your king before all else.”

“And the truth spills out. Are those the lies you fed to make her agree to forfeit her freedom and marry you?”

“I believe your affection for her sister took care of that.”

A hint of pipe smoke drifted over me. “If you are truly concerned for the girl, then you must get her back to her world now.”

Hawthrin. He was here too. Wherever here was. It was like a cold empty space between here and there. And I was trapped, alone in the void.

“Go,” Zanthiel's voice commanded, followed by the cold hiss of rasping metal. “I will hold them off.”

My body was lifted by strong arms and held against a warm, firm chest.

“You're just going to let her leave? Not try to stop her? To claim her?” Adrius' voice was closer now. Next to my ear.

“I would not force my will upon her.”

“You are wasting precious time that we have precious little of,” Hawthrin snapped. “I cannot hold this indefinitely, while you two squabble like hens. Once my spell fades, we do not know whether the porthole will remain open or close permanently. You must leave now.”

The sounds around me blurred into one.

A cold hand touched my cheek, briefly.

There was a clash of metal.

Screams carried on the wind.

The scent of burning thyme.

Then nothing.

 

 

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was my reflection mirrored back to me. Broken fragments of reflective glass were scattered around me, from the shattered gilded mirrors. Despite the speckles and cracks I knew it was my face, and yet it wasn't. Like a twin staring back with my eyes, my nose, my mouth, but someone else's soul. If they had a soul. The look in her eyes was vacant. Wrong. I blinked and the pieces rejoined into one. The eyes turned green and the hair a fiery red, like the flame of a dragon. Her cheeks sunken and gaunt and her skin turned sallow. I swallowed, and my doppelganger's eyes grew large and dark, like black holes in a haunted face. Then the face,
my
face, smiled and I knew my end was near. My reflection faded in the mirror and I saw someone step into the fragment next to me. I turned my head to catch Adrius watching me. Watching
her
. He smiled and reached for me, but it's not my face he sees. It's hers.

I sat up with a start. The world spun briefly and Adrius was there, his hands on my back to steady me. Just like before.

“Wh— what happened?” I croaked.

“You were hit by a poisoned arrow,” Adrius said. He held a leather pouch to my lips and I took a sip.

I frowned trying to piece things together. “Where's Zanthiel?”

“He's gone. He left to throw off the queen's guards, before they found us.”

I nodded. “And Hawthrin?” A prickle of concern pinched me.

“He will be fine,” Adrius said. “Zanthiel was able to remove the poison from the arrow.”

The confidence in his voice erased some of my worry, but far from all of it.

For a while it was quiet, the only sounds his measured breaths and the occasional gust of wind through the leaves. Slowly he turned to face me, and held my hand in his.

“Can you stand?”

Even after all I'd been through, I still wasn't one of the fallen. I was rising to the challenge. I was made of more than I even imagined I could be. I pushed to my feet, leaning on his arm for support.

His sad eyes searched mine. “I can't tell you how sorry I am, Lorelei. For everything I put you through. For hurting you.”

That face I remembered so well twisted in the agony of his guilt. Although I'd forgiven what he did under Venus' control, the memory of it still stung… still I wanted to wipe the pain clean from his face. I inched closer to him, until I was in his familiar embrace.

“Adrius, it wasn't your fault. It was Venus. She's the one to blame.” I rested my head against his chest. “This will all be over soon and we'll be free. With both of us in charge of our own destinies from now on. The way it should be.”

I listened as his heartbeat accelerated and then slowed.

He stroked my hair. “If it takes me all of forever to make it up to you, I will,” he said.

“It looks like you will have at least that long.” A voice took us by surprise and we separated from each other abruptly. Hawthrin strode toward us, staff in hand. “Unless you get yourselves killed before then.”

In unison we looked up at the wizard's grave face. He looked older than before, many more centuries beyond his actual age. The shadows lining his eyes weren't of age, but of sadness. Like Adrius'.

Adrius tensed and his hand slid to the hilt of his sword. “What's wrong?”

I looked around us, immediately on guard, searching for a possible threat.

“Relax your guard, young ones. There will be no foe to battle. The threat you seek is not one of being, but rather of circumstance.”

I frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the veil, I'm afraid, is already sealed. We are too late.”

I sucked in a breath of air before my knees could buckle. “Too late?” I whispered.

“No,” Adrius shouted. The echo of his voice encircled us. “There has to be a way through.” He paced the invisible doorway like a caged tiger.

I closed my eyes against the words, searching for a memory, a thought, something to hold on to, something to take away the pain. Nothing came but the agony of defeat. The deep ache of it swelled inside me, radiating out through my being. Reality crashed in around me. When I opened my eyes, I stared into the broken mirror, its gilded frame still leaning against the tree, pieces scattered and missing, leaving the remaining reflection broken and deformed. Irreparable.

“It's okay, Adrius.” I twisted from the grotesque view and resigned to the fate I'd been given. Destiny had played her winning card. Made her last move. Check and mate. “We knew it was a long shot.” Everything drained from me. I was tired of fighting. I'd been fighting for too long.

“Don't give up, Lorelei.” Adrius turned to the wizard, his eyes dark with despair. “Hawthrin. She cannot stay here. Do I have to list the reasons why?”

It's funny the things that run through your mind at a time like this.
The Phantom of the Opera
. Playing the role of Christine was a dream of mine. I'd never get the chance if I was trapped in the Nevermore forever. Of course, things like never seeing my mom or my friends, they were important, but my mind immediately went to the little things. Like it had when the Lemon Balm burned down. Shock sent the mind in scattered directions, none of which made sense, but each realization seemed more painful than the last. Like a needle piercing my heart with every memory of what I'd left behind, all that I'd never get to see or do again. A part of me ached for what I'd lost, even as a larger part of me clung to the hand of all I'd gained. It was, after all, what I'd wanted. He was what I'd wanted, more than anything. I just wasn't expecting to feel such grief for what I was leaving behind.

“It's
because
I never gave up that you're free,” I said, refusing to mourn. “If I could have chosen the life I would have wanted to lead, I've always known in my heart the one I'd pick would include you. I planned on being with you, Adrius. In my heart I always have. Maybe it's better this way.” If only I believed that.

“Not to further complicate matters, but need I remind you dear, of your betrothal?” Hawthrin said, despondent. He squinted off into the distance with furrowed brows. “You cannot linger here. Mab's guards will come looking for you eventually. You must hurry. Go deep into the Wyldes of the Nevermore before you're seen. Head for the Glades of Oakenwylde, where the High Order of Wizards gather. You know it, Adrius?”

“I know of it,” he replied.

Hawthrin gave a satisfied nod. “I will find you there. With aid, I hope.”

With a swirl of lavender smoke that completely enveloped the wizard, he was gone.

Adrius looked at me, and for once I could look back at him, feeling certain of one thing and one thing only… we would get through this, somehow.

I grabbed his arm and turned him to face me. “Hey. Don't say you're sorry, or try to blame yourself for this,” I said, preempting his next words. “For one thing, it's not true, and for another, it will only make things worse.”

He shook his head, pain marring his expression. “How is it even possible that I have still not ruined any chance with you? I've more good fortune than any being dares have.”

I tried to smile. “Fortune favors the bold,” I said, re-quoting Hawthrin's quote.

“I had to separate myself from the part of me that still loved you, the part I had to bury in order to keep you safe from Venus.” His words filled with anguish. “I hope you can forgive me, Lorelei, and give me a chance to prove just how much you mean to me.

“Venus' power forced me to keep you from my heart.” He stroked the side of my face and his thumb slid down my cheek. “Even with all of her dark forces, it wasn't easy keeping you out.”

“It wasn't easy letting you back in,” I whispered. “The entire universe conspired to help bring you back to me.”

He moved his hand from my face to my shoulders, letting his fingers trail down my neck. Then he leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine, and only the familiar warmth we'd always shared rested between us.

We stayed like that for a time until he pulled me closer, closing the gap between us. “I don't want you for days, for years, for centuries.” He punctuated each word with a kiss. “I want you forever. I belong to you as you belong to me, and I won't rest until I've made it up to you with every inch of my soul. Every land in this realm will recognize our union,” he said. “I'm not going anywhere, and I will never let you go again.”

His fingers entwined with mine and he brought my hand to his lips, to kiss each finger in turn.

For a moment, my eyes drifted closed, soaking up the warmth of his touch.

Repair my gifts, fix the veil, free Adrius, live happily ever after
. That was the plan. It was always the plan. I wasn't willing, or even physically able to change it now. Not when it was so much a part of my being. I had no idea how to derail. They were intrinsic to my coming out of this alive and intact. And if I lost myself along the way, then it all would have been in vain. I couldn't let that happen. Sometimes, you have to fight for what you believe in. For what is right and true. For what's real. It's the only thing that matters. This new fate couldn't change that. I won't let it.

I glanced back at my reflection once more, wondering if she felt the same intense pain I did at losing everything she'd known. It was like staring at the face of a stranger, someone I used to know. Someone I needed to get to know all over again. My eyes looked like my mother's eyes. Darker. Sadder. Weary. And yet, hopeful. The eyes of someone who'd faced the dark night of their soul and survived. I smiled, and my reflection smiled back. Just a little.

My hand tightened in his and his strength mingled with mine. Once again, we were ready to leap the next bittersweet hurdle fate had thrown in our path.

Hand in hand we raced through the Nevermore, the way we were meant to be.

Together.

 

 

A dreamer at heart,
Michele Barrow-Belisle
has always lived with one foot in this reality and one foot in another, one of her own imagining. So it follows that she would grow up to write about and sculpt the characters from those enchanting worlds she knows and loves so well. A fan of everything romantic, her young adult novels are populated with scintillating witches, vamps and fey. Michele resides in southern Canada with her hubby and son who indulge her growing obsession with reading, writing and most importantly… chocolate.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

“You look exhausted, Mrs. Johnston.”

I stared into her sunken eyes, rimmed with dark circles. My joints ached for a split second and then subsided. I saw the redness and swelling… the stiffness… They flashed like snapshots in my mind. Instantly I knew her fingers ached when she played the piano, and I knew her stomach ulcer kept her up at night.
One
touch could take it all away.
But Gran had enforced the keep-your-hands-to-yourself rule at an early age.

“Oh, Lorelei, you know… story of my life, hon.” She glanced up at the oversized, walnut-framed blackboard with the specials scrawled in chalk, and handed me her menu. “Bring me the usual, will you? And a slice of that famous lemon pie?”

“You got it.”

The café was swamped tonight, the sudden cold snap meant lots of aches and flu bugs. People flocked to the Lemon Balm Café and Tea House for the ambiance as much as they did for the herbal tea.

I poured steaming water into the clear glass teapot. This wasn't your typical English breakfast blend. Well, it was… but with a few extras added in. Then again, this wasn't your typical tea house, and I wasn't your typical teen. Not even close.

The
freak
label got smacked on my forehead long before I understood what it meant to be a clairsentient empathic healer. Basically, I can see when people are in pain, and well…
heal
them. Being gifted might
sound
great; but it's meant a lifetime of trying to hide
what
I can do, and
why
, just to blend. In a town the size of Drearyton Cove, population sixty-three hundred, blending, was nearly impossible. After the quote-unquote
incident
, it was safer to leave the healing to Gran's secret blend of teas. “
Witnessing a child who could heal with the touch of a hand would be too much for people around here,"
she'd said. And so I listened — mostly — keeping my hands to myself, and staying far away from sports, parties, and people, which were no more than accidents waiting to happen. Not only for the obvious reasons: accidents meant injuries, injuries meant blood. Nothing made me hit the floor faster than that bitter, metallic stench of blood.

“Where's the hawthorn and chamomile blend, Neil? Never mind, found it.”

“Mrs. J's arthritis flaring up again?” he asked, leaning across the chrome counter.

“She didn't mention it, but I can tell.”

Neil's face folded into a grin, and we exchanged a secretive look. At sixty-something, Neil was our town's resident hippy. He was as laid back as they come and wore his long grey hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail. Gran opened Lemon Balm twenty years ago, and Neil's been here since day one, running things after Gran died and mom refused to help out. Pretty much since then, the whole town switched from coffee to tea. He's one of the privileged few who knew why.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” I set the tea and pie in front of her, feeling somehow better about myself knowing in an hour or so she'd be back to normal and pain-free. It was Gran's little secret. My little secrets were far more bizarre.

“So Monday's the big solo?” Mrs. Johnston poured the amber liquid into her mug.

I forced a stiff smile, fiddling with the pencil tucked behind my ear.

“Yep.”

“And on your birthday no less. Well, good luck, honey.” Her blue-veined hand patted mine. “Julliard will be lucky to have you. Although why you'd settle for composing with an amazing voice like yours…” She shook her head. “But you'll do well. I'm sure if it.”

Funny… I wasn't. It really wasn't up to me. How I performed was up to the Faerie who gave me my singing voice; the one who had appeared in my room one night and promised to keep my dad alive if I sang for him and only him. People insisted it was dream, but the ice shard he used to pierce my throat was agonizingly real. Turned out to be a bogus deal, since my dad has been dead for over a decade. Yet somehow that Faerie still controls my ability to sing. It's made every performance, and my hopes of getting into Julliard, infinitely more complicated. If my Faerie muse was in a good mood, and if Jupiter aligned with Mars, I had a shot. If not… well…

The door swung open, sending in a gust of cold damp air. Brianne and her steroid-pumped entourage strode in, filling the far corner booth.
Jocks and cheerleaders.
In my section… Great
… I sighed.

“Enjoy your pie, Mrs. Johnston.”

Grabbing some menus, I approached their table and smiled. It was for Gran's sake. She always insisted once someone walked through the door, they were customers who deserved courtesy and respect. It was hard to see the morons, already busy chugging sugar packets and playing table hockey with the salt shaker, as worthy of my respect. I'm not one for stereotypes, but they worked so hard at living up to them, it seemed a shame not to label.

“Welcome to Lemon Balm. Our dessert specials are rhubarb tart, chai green tea ice cream, and lemon pie.” I placed the stack of menus in the middle of center ice.

“What can I get for you?” I said and folded my arms, trying not to notice the picture of Brianne's sore ankle that flashed in my mind.

Brianne looked up at me from bored, overly-mascaraed eyes. “Lorelei? Seriously, you're working? Tonight of all nights?”

I didn't reply to what seemed a pretty rhetorical question…
Duh
.

“Don't you know what night it is?”

I nodded, confused at where she was going.

“It's
Saturday
night,” she said, as if I was the brain dead one.

Then she put her hand on my arm.

Oh man, I expected bad, but this was going to be worse.
Is she attempting to embarrass me about my lack of dates? It's an easy number to keep track of. Counting tonight, it made zero.
I wasn't exactly what you'd call social. Most of the time, I didn't really consider that a bad thing. I had little in common with the people here. And not only because I was different, though it didn't help. I didn't see the world like most people did. And I was fine with that. It was just that, sometimes, I wished someone other than an invisible Faerie and my dead grandmother knew how different I was.

“The weekend before the competition… Shouldn't you, oh, I don't know, be face first in a toilet barfing your brains out by now? Or did you actually get a clue and drop out?”

Snickers erupted from the rest of Brianne's groupies and a surge of heat rose in my face.

She leaned toward me, her head cocked to one side. “I mean, between you and me, you have zero chance of winning. But hey, if you puke on Professor Higgins's toupee again, it might make you more memorable.”

Amazingly enough, as much as I hated performing in public, I'd take it right now over listening to another word from her. Brianne was not only head cheerleader, but also lead vocalist in music class. I had the superior singing voice, but she was given all the leads, because her voice was at least consistent. It helped she could make it through a performance without puking on the judges. Apparently they frown on that kind of thing. She was also blonde, pretty — in a miniature Shih Tzu sort of way — wildly popular, and dating my temporarily insane best friend Davin Blake. He wants us to get along. I don't see it happening, but for his sake and Gran's I ignored her comment.

“So do you need more time to decide?”

“We know what we want.” Jake, the one who looked most likely to wind up behind bars, draped his sausage arm around Brianne's shoulder. “Bring us eight slices of Chocolate Cherry Decadence, four coffees, and some cobblers.” He winked at me and I had to tighten my grip on the pencil I held to keep from whipping it at his forehead like a dart.

“No pie for me,” Brianne added. “Some of us actually care what we look like. And Davin loves my flat stomach.”

I rolled my eyes but subconsciously sucked in my stomach.

She smiled. “It's sad really. You're like, always here. Don't you miss having fun? You know… parties, dates, guys…
any
of it sound familiar? Or don't you like having a life?”

“I'm good, thanks,” I said flatly, fingers clenched around my pencil so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

“Can't miss what you've never had,” jeered Josh, the spiky haired guy still wearing his football uniform.

My brows tightened. “So where is Davin tonight?” I pointedly glared at the quarterback whose fingers were teasing Brianne's hair.

Brianne's gray eyes flashed. “He's got a basketball game tonight, didn't he tell you?” She smirked. “We're hooking up later.”

“Hope he's not too tired.”

“He's
never
too tired,” she said tossing her hair, and the redhead across from her giggled.

I didn't want to heal her sore ankle; I wanted to break the other one. It was common knowledge Brianne was an easy score, but the thought of her with my best friend was one mental picture I didn't need.

“Anything else?” I bristled.

“If I see something else I want, I'll let you know,” Jake, her arm candy, replied, raking his beefy eyes over me.

“Perfect.”
Deep breaths
.
Remember, courtesy and respect
. I gave a smile I hoped looked as fake as it was. Spinning on my heels, I stormed into the kitchen.

“Hey, Neil, I need some cobblers heated.” I could feel my blood pressure rising. Maybe Brianne needed to be
too tired
tonight.

I reached for the chamomile sleep blend we saved for the worst insomniacs. One cup and she'd be passed out in an hour.

“Now that's an interesting choice… Sleepy-Thyme Blend?” Neil quipped. “Care to explain why the sixteen-year-old cheerleader needs a sleep-inducer on a Saturday night?”

“She wants to get to bed early,” I muttered under my breath.

Neil frowned. “Lorelei?”

I pulled my hand away from the canister and stared at the ground.
What am I thinking? This isn't me.
I never abused the medicinal herbs or my gifts. It was part of what made me special. I wasn't about to let them take that away from me.

“I wasn't really going to,” I mumbled, my face growing hot. This was childish. I would go back out there and show her I was the bigger person. Maybe, if I helped her with the strained ankle she was dealing with, we could finally strike a truce. Perhaps become friends. Davin would love that. “Where's the Vervain?” It was useful in healing all sorts of things.

“We're all out.” Neil looked at me with his usual grandfatherly concern, wiping his hands on the pristine apron he wore mostly for show. “What's going on with you tonight? You don't usually let those kids get to you.”

“I know.” I sighed. “Must be nerves, I guess.”
Why did I agree to perform in the competition in the first place?
I hated performing live as much as I hated competing, even if it did bring me closer to getting into Julliard and away from here. Plus, a taste of actually beating Brianne would be delicious, but no one knew as well as I did how much of a long shot that was. I had no idea how I'd got myself into this, and it was too late to get out of it. The programs were printed and if I made it on stage without slipping in a puddle of my own puke, hitting my head, and knocking myself unconscious, I'd be singing. Maybe.
Always
maybe.

Neil placed a tray in front of me laden with sticky cherry cobbler, smothered with chocolate ganache and whipped cream. Just looking at it gave me indigestion. I wasn't much for desserts, except for lemon pie. After pouring four herb-free coffees, I returned to the back booth.

The door swung open as I arrived at their table. I felt the warm, thyme-scented breeze on my skin. I froze.
That aroma… again.
Vivid memories of my childhood flooded in. Slowly I looked up. A boy walked in, and for a split second, a silent pause descended on the café, like a scene right out of a movie. This was no ordinary guy. He was beautiful… strikingly beautiful. It might have been his shoulder-length coffee hair, or his perfectly sculpted features, or the casual way his jeans and white shirt hung on his taught lean frame. Whatever it was, it gave him a haunting, unearthly quality. I realized I was staring when his eyes met mine.

He smiled.

I'm not sure why, but the entire tray slipped out of my hands and clamored to the floor, covering Brianne with dessert and hot coffee on the way down. She screamed and then swore, jumping out of the booth. I covered my face with my hands, wishing there was a giant rock I could crawl under.

“Oh no, I'm so
sorry
…” I tried to wipe the glob of whipped cream sliding down her forehead. She smacked my hand away.

“Liar! You little witch, you did this on purpose.”

“It was an accident. I was… distracted.” I looked up to see the entire café staring at us, including the gorgeous stranger who looked slightly amused.

“I know you're jealous of me. Do you think this little stunt is going to ruin my night? Even covered in whipped cream I'll never be as pathetic as you are. Davin will always want me as his girlfriend and
you
for a friend, and you can't stand it!”

“Really Brianne, I didn't mean to…”

“I've been nice to you for his sake…”

Wow. If that was nice…

“But we're done. You picked the wrong person to make your enemy, Lorelei.”

Her face was as red as the cherry sauce working its way down her white tank top.

“Think you can make a fool of me? Well, just wait! Monday night, it's your turn!” she hollered.

She stormed out the door, brushing past the hot mystery guy, who was about to be seated in Megan's section.

I slunk onto a stool at the counter, dropping my head on my arms. This was not what I had planned. Pissing off Brianne was one thing, but right before the competition was something I didn't need. No way was I going to let her humiliate me in front of an audience. I was perfectly capable of doing that by myself. There was no other choice. I'd have to back out of the festival, and just hope my classically trained, world-renowned concert pianist-mother would someday forgive me.