“Well, my parents
are almost never home,” Karmen said. Ever since her two
brothers had graduated and moved out of the house, her parents had
been taking a lot more business trips and vacations, leaving her
alone. It was the best thing that ever happened to her. “Lots
of parties at my place this year.”
“I can’t
wait,” Melody said. “I already told Mom I was staying at
your place tonight.”
“Me too,”
Kate said.
Karmen raised an
eyebrow and grabbed another handful of popcorn. “You two can
share the guest room,” she said. “My room will be fully
occupied tonight, if you know what I mean.”
Her friends giggled and
shoved her. Karmen played along, but the truth was that deep inside,
her stomach was tied in knots. She’d promised Aaron he could
stay over tonight, but only because he wouldn’t stop asking her
about it. She knew what he wanted, but she wasn’t totally sure
she was ready to give it up. Yes, she was sixteen as of two weeks
ago, and most of her friends had already lost their virginity, but
still.
Karmen looked toward
the dugout again, her eyes seeking Noah’s.
Maybe Aaron just wasn’t
the one.
The witch drifted in
and out of consciousness, trapped inside a web of dreams.
Sometimes, she dreamed
of Tobias. Of following him through the forest endlessly, tripping
over stumps and roots, but never catching up to him. Sometimes, she
dreamed of her life when she was a little girl in the Council’s
orphanage. She was playing in the courtyard, catching fairies with
her bare hands.
Other times, she
dreamed of a girl with purple eyes.
In between the dreams,
she saw only glimpses of the world she was now lost inside. A dark
night with shadows all around and a single bright globe of a moon
shining above. Or once, a flash of green grass and the blazing heat
of a distant sun.
She was hovering on the
edge of consciousness now, the crushing heat and the hunger in her
belly begging her to awaken and seek food and shelter. Water. But
something deep inside the earth drew her down, back into the depths
below.
She fought against it,
but the pull was too strong. It crashed over her like a wave, rolling
and rolling, until finally, it dragged her under.
Her awareness seemed to
fall and fall, deeper and deeper into the ground until suddenly, it
all stopped. The pain, the noise. The heat of the day was replaced
with a refreshing coolness.
She lifted her head and
opened her eyes, slow at first, then wide.
What was this place?
Was she dreaming or awake? She couldn’t be sure anymore, but
the goose bumps that rose across her flesh told her this was real.
She pulled her cloak
tighter, shivering as the air grew colder. She was on her knees in a
small chamber. The walls here were frozen, blue ice coating the stone
in a thick, solid layer.
The witch’s eyes
were drawn to a block of ice in the center of the room. The sight of
it sent chills down her spine. Her breath came fast and heavy,
turning white like smoke as it crossed her lips.
“
Come to me.”
The voice was inside
her head and her eyes widened. Even though it filled her with fear,
she couldn’t turn away from the block of ice. She had to obey
the voice in her head.
The witch stood, her
legs weak and wobbly.
Each step pained her.
How long had she been lying in that field? Days, maybe. Her stomach
groaned and her head throbbed. Her bones creaked and the muscles in
her legs protested. She wanted to lie down and sleep, but the voice
drew her forward. At first, her body shivered terribly, but as she
approached the stone, she began to warm. Slowly, raw heat trickled
into her blood stream, each drop giving her renewed strength. Her
heart raced. Her lips parted. Her cheeks flushed.
What was this place?
She straightened,
moving faster.
A form appeared inside
the ice and the young witch gasped and clutched her chest.
A woman. Her body thin
and frail and her lips blue with cold. The woman’s eyes were
closed. Thick ice crystals formed on her lashes as if she’d
been asleep for centuries. The young witch stepped closer, her eyes
locked on the woman’s pale face. She looked so peaceful
sleeping there. How had someone so beautiful and warm ended up in
this cold, hard place?
A rush of sadness
flooded her heart. She ached for this frozen woman. She loved her
without knowing the first thing about her. Tears welled up in her
eyes and fell across her cheek, freezing in an instant and falling to
the icy ground where they shattered. The witch lifted her trembling
hand to the ice near the woman’s face, wanting to caress her.
To find out why she’d been hidden away in this frozen dungeon.
But instead of the cool slick feel of ice, her hand began to burn as
if she’d placed it directly in a blazing fire. She tried to
pull back, but she couldn’t move. Some invisible force held her
there.
Panic flashed through
her. She thrashed and crouched, throwing all her weight against it as
she screamed in pain.
Then, the ice woman’s
eyes opened with a pop.
Red as the purest ruby,
but filled with a fiery purpose.
The young witch stopped
moving, paralyzed by those red eyes. Her heartbeat throbbed against
her ribs and her throat closed in fear.
“Who are you?”
she asked, her voice a frozen whisper.
The woman’s lips
did not move, but her words were strong inside the witch’s
head.
“
I have many
names,”
the frozen woman
said.
“I am the Dark One. The First. The Necromancer.
The Twin. I am the one true fear of our people. And the one true
hope.”
The witch’s palm
burned and she nearly fainted from the pain. Her eyes closed and she
fell to her knees, her hand finally breaking free of the ice. The
skin on her palm was blistered and raw, damaged beyond repair. She
curled her legs toward herself and rocked back and forth, cradling
her injured hand like a baby in her arms. Tears streamed down her
face in a frozen waterfall.
She fought against the
agony, struggling to stay conscious. Every muscle in her body tensed
and she clutched her head between her forearms.
“Why are you
doing this to me?” she cried.
There was no answer at
first, but when she lifted her eyes to the woman’s face, she
saw that the figure in the ice was staring back at her. Studying her.
Her blue lips turned up into a small smile.
“
I had to
prove to you this was real and not a dream,”
she said. “
You
have no idea how long I have been waiting for you. You are special,
my young one.”
The witch sobbed and
shook her head. “No, you’re wrong,” she said. She
swiped at the frozen tears on her cheek. She couldn’t think
straight against the pain. All she could do was hear the memories of
past voices, telling her she would never be special. “I am no
one.”
“
You are
everything to me,”
the frozen woman said.
The voice was soft in
her mind. Sweet and delicate like a mother’s final whisper
before sleeping. Only, the young witch was being lifted out of sleep
now. She became aware of the warm ground beneath her body and the
heat of the sun against her cheek. She fought against the waking,
wanting to stay with the Dark One where she was special and wanted.
But there was work to do.
And someone was shaking
her.
Her eyes popped open to
find a man staring back at her. He was young and strong. Handsome. He
smiled.
“Hey,” he
said in a gentle tone. His hand was warm against her arm. He glanced
back at an older woman standing there in the field. “Momma,
she’s awake.”
The witch attempted to
sit up, but her head spun in circles. Hunger tore at her stomach. She
fell back toward the ground, but the handsome man caught her in his
arms. She collapsed against him. “Thank you,” she
whispered. Her voice was gritty against her throat.
“You’re
welcome,” he said. He stared into her eyes like he’d
never seen a woman before. Like he was entranced with her. “I’m
gonna carry you, if that’s alright.”
She nodded.
He lifted her and she
wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tight to him. Her right
hand ached with pain. Something from a dream, she thought, but she
was too weak to remember.
As they walked, she
closed her eyes and listened to the steady thrum of the man’s
heartbeat.
He and his mother
talked quietly as they made their way back to their farmhouse. They
had found her on their land. A farm far from the nearest city. They
had no idea how long she’d been there and were debating whether
to drive her to the distant hospital or give her time to recover in
their home. The hospital would be expensive, though, and they didn’t
have much extra.
The older woman
commented on her dress and cloak, wondering why a young girl would be
wandering around out here in such strange clothes.
The young witch had no
answers for them. Only silence.
By the time they
reached the farm house, the man’s mother was coughing and the
young witch was drifting off to sleep, dreaming again of the girl
with purple eyes.
Parrish stared at the
woman by the buffet table. Her eyes were ringed with dark,
bruise-like circles. Her lips were dry and cracked. The woman looked
like death warmed over.
And she was coughing
all over the shrimp cocktail.
Parrish dropped her
shrimp onto her full plate, then dumped it into the trash can and
scanned the crowd. Standing near the back door, Madelyn Sorrows
looked straight at her.
Crap. Eye contact.
Parrish ducked behind a man in a blue suit, but she knew it was too
late.
“Where in the
world have you been?” Her mother’s voice had that
talking-through-gritted-teeth sound to it.
Parrish shrugged.
“Talking to some friends,” she said. A bold lie. Parrish
never had friends over and almost everyone at this party was
middle-aged.
“You know how
important tonight is,” her mother said, already looking away,
barely paying attention to her. As usual. “Don’t
embarrass me, please.”
Parrish held her
breath. And her tongue.
Why did her mother even
want her out here? She would have been much more comfortable hiding
in her room listening to music and playing video games than out here.
Her mom had insisted she put on this stupid dress and uncomfortable
heels and come out here to keep up appearances of a happy family. But
now that she was out here, she was an embarrassment?
She couldn’t win
with this woman.
Anger trickled through
her and she felt that tug. That familiar, rebellious pull that made
her want to kick off her shoes and run screaming into the pool in
front of everyone. What would her mother have to say then?
But her mother had
already turned her attention to a man Parrish recognized from Zoe’s
music lessons.
Parrish stepped away
before the awkward introductions began. She was going to scream if
she had to hear one more person say, ‘Wow, I never realized Zoe
had a sister’ or ‘What instrument do you play, Parrish?’
Having to explain just
how little musical talent she possessed was never the highlight of
her day. Being the firstborn child to a famous opera singer and a
professional cellist, she was supposed to have been a musical genius.
It was part of her birthright. Or so everyone thought. By the time
she was six her parents had ushered her to every kind of music lesson
imaginable. Piano, violin, voice, even trumpet. The result was always
the same.
Parrish was no prodigy.
So they tried again.
And Zoe? Zoe was a
different story.
The cling of silver
against glass sounded over the crowd and everyone gradually turned
their attention toward the back deck. Parrish moved to the back of
the group and leaned against the wooden fence, watching.
Her father stood on the
deck with a glass of champagne in his hand and a wide, proud smile on
his face.
“My wife and I
would like to thank you all so much for coming tonight,” he
said. “As most of you know, we are here to celebrate our
daughter’s amazing talent.” Several people cheered and
her father slipped his arm around her mom with a smile. “Tomorrow
morning, Zoe and I will be flying out to New York City where she will
play a series of concerts with the New York Philharmonic. Then, in
two weeks, we’ll be heading to Paris for the start of her first
European tour!”
Parrish crossed her
arms as the crowd broke out in excited applause.
Zoe stood beside their
parents, a well-trained smile on her angelic face. Parrish swallowed
back the bitter taste of jealousy and shifted her weight from one
foot to the other. It wasn’t Zoe’s fault she was born to
play the violin.
“This is a very
important event for our family, and we are just so touched that you
have all come out to see Zoe off,” her mother said.
“As a special
treat,” her father continued, “Zoe has prepared a special
piece just for this occasion.” More gasps and cheers of
delight.
Parrish bit the inside
of her bottom lip.
“If you would all
make your way to the formal living room, you’ll see that an
intimate concert hall has been set up for you,” her mother said
with a laugh. She grabbed Zoe’s hand and patted it. “The
concert will begin in just a few minutes.”
Everyone rushed toward
the French doors, eager for the best seats. Parrish grabbed a
discarded flute of champagne and disappeared into the shadows around
the side of the house. She slipped out of her shoes and stepped into
the cool, damp grass. It squished under her feet, climbing up between
her sore toes as she made her way through the gate and onto the front
lawn.