Vilmo's Wrath: Deglon Blood (7 page)

“For five years, not only did I train hard, but I also went to school and saw the world, but all of that seemed pointless without you. I knew then as I know now that we were meant to be, Nora. I didn’t get selected for you by the gods. We chose each other.”

“I am so sorry. Over the years, I called you so many names. I—I was so hurt. I thought …”

“You thought I’d given up on us. How would you know any different? At times, I wished you could hear me when I spoke to you before going to bed. No contact with you made me fight harder and become stronger. I knew we would be together again—I just never thought we would have to be pushed together in these harsh circumstances.”

Nora smiles.

“I use to pretend to talk to you also,” she says softly.

Robbie smiles.

“So, maybe you did hear me.”

Nora blushes.

“So what are Szion? Angels?”

“Angel, is a word given by humans to earth protectors, warriors of their god. So, I guess that would be correct, but with many alterations to their beliefs.” Robbie answers.

“Robbie, you gave up everything for me. You could have had a perfect life. You could have chosen a nice Vilmo girl and not have to worry about all of … whatever is about to happen to me,” Nora says sadly.

“Nora, my heart decided who I loved long ago. I will always choose you over anything else in this world. There is no life without you in it. Not for me, but I don’t think you are seeing the whole picture. You’re not seeing what I am telling you. Although not chosen by the gods, there is a Vilmo meant for me,” Robbie says, kissing Nora’s hand, making her blush again.

“Wait! Robbie, am I a Vilmo? Oh, my god, you're my Szion!”

Robbie nods.

“So my dad is Szion?” she asks.

Robbie nods.

“So is uncle Rod,” he answers.

“Is that why they look so young? Are Szion immortal?”

“No, in their world, time is different, but death still comes in many ways, just as it does here. On Boligon aging stops at 21 human years, on earth we stop aging after 30 human years. We will never die from old age, but we can still be killed. As a Vilmo, after the bond with your Szion, you will also stop aging at the age of thirty.

“So, I won’t get old. Will I get powers like you?” Nora asks excitedly.

“Not exactly like mine, but yes. Now that you know who we are I’m afraid I have to get to the part that will be hardest for you.”

Robbie takes a deep breath and contemplates the best way to approach the next part of the conversation.

“Robbie, I’m ready. Go ahead.”

“As I mentioned before a Szion are only able to have one child. Well, that was how it was, until twenty-one years ago,” Robbie says.

When he stops talking Nora grows slightly impatient. The story pulls her in like a good thriller. She tenses with anticipation as his lips start to move.

“Nora, your mother and father gave birth to twins.”

Nora’s heart tightens, she stands to her feet and begins to pace back and forth on the living room floor as Robbie continues.

“Two weeks after you and your sister’s birth, many Lights attacked your family’s home. Your parents fought, killing every Light that entered their home. They were so preoccupied they hadn’t realized that the Light were only a distraction for the true monster that was there to destroy you and your sister, the Shadows. Dumont. By the time your dad arrived at your room the Shadow exited out of the window, and—only you survived.”

Nora’s face turns pale and she begins to feel sick to her stomach.

“Where is my mother? Do you know her name? Why did she leave? Is she dead?”

The questions race out of her mouth, tears flow down her cheeks, anxiety gets the best of her and her legs give out. Suddenly she feels very faint. Before she hit the floor, she is in Robbie’s arms, and he lays her on the couch. Nora rubs her head and sits up.

“I’m fine. I got a little worked up. I forgot how fast the book says Szion can move.”

Robbie smiles and sits beside her.

“Your mother’s name is Mia Langly. She left to keep you safe. I don’t know anything more, I was only told what we needed to know to find her. All I know is that my father and yours said Dumont was behind it all.”

Nora tries hard but can’t seem to keep the tears from flowing. They sit in silence a moment.

“I know it seems that we have all betrayed you in some way by not telling you all of this. Our lives are not the average Szion and Vilmo lives, Nora. No one knew how to tell you the truth. It would have done no good to tell you when you would spend your whole life worrying.

“Each of us has only wanted to protect you. You asked me why I choose this life instead of another. My answer is the answer your parents, my father, and uncle Rod would give. We choose to fight for you because we’d rather die than be without you—I would rather die than be without you. There is something bad coming. Dumont has been after you since you were born. You are not just a Vilmo. You are a very powerful Vilmo that he wants dead.

“Soon your body will start reacting. You will be able to sense evil from miles away. You will not have to concentrate to see beings as they truly are. Strong energies will put odd feelings in your stomach, but will ease as you get close to them. You will know the difference between Light, human, Szion, and even Shadow. You will have to let your body guide you,” Robbie says, wiping her tears.

Somehow it all made sense. Nora now understands why she was imprisoned in the house, why her father was so protective, and why she is motherless. She cries for a few more moments while wrapped in Robbie’s arms. 

“I’m done with being upset all the time. How can we stop Dumont? What can I do?” she asks.

Robbie looks at her and smiles.

“That’s my girl,” he says.

He slides a small rectangular box out from under the sofa and hands it to her.

“A birthday gift from your mother.”

Whatever is in this box couldn’t possibly surprise me as much as everything else has in the last two day
s, Nora thinks, taking a deep breath before opening the box. A tiny, golden, metal toothpick-like object rest upon a black silk cloth. Not just any piece of metal, an enchanting little thing. It covers Nora with comfort. Although it is barely the size of her finger, she can feel its power radiate through her veins.

“What is it?” she asks.

“This is what we call a golden spike. Yes, it looks much like a toothpick, but an incredible power lies within it. Do you remember reading about them?” Robbie asks.

“Yes. A golden spike is the only thing that can kill a Light, but I assumed it would look more like its name. And, um—much bigger.”

Every part of Nora is filled with just as much excitement as confusion.

“It will be as small or as big as you want or need it to be. First, you need to make your bond with it,” Robbie says, taking the spike, from its box and placing it in Nora’s hand.

“How do I do that?” she asks, holding it from her body as if at any moment it would bite her.

“The same way we made our first bond,” Robbie says.

She laughs.

“So, you want me to kiss it?”

Robbie laughs and closes her hand around the spike.

“No, open your heart to it,” he says.

Nora nods and close her eyes. It was not hard for her open up to this tiny piece of gold. In seconds, she feels its love for her as if it was a person. She trusts it, and it trusts her. The feeling of protection covers her as it grows in her hand. Its power runs through her veins as if it was replacing her blood with new blood. She feels strong and free. Then, without notice a bolt of warmth strikes her chest, and she slowly opens her eyes.

“I’m not afraid anymore, Robbie.”

“I know,” Robbie says, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She has no idea what has happened, nor does she question it. All she knows is that she is now ready for whatever is next. After a few moments, the spike returns to its three-inch length and Nora places it back into its box so that she can free her hand to wrap around Robbie. Just as she places it in the box, it appears in her other hand. She jumps.

“You will never be without it,” Robbie says.

“Well, I don’t want to carry this thing around like this. Where do you put yours?”

Robbie snickers.

“Nora put it in your pocket.”

Before she can reach into her pocket it is gone.

“What the …?”

“Look in your pocket,” he laughs.

Sure enough, she reaches into her robe pocket and there it is.

“All you have to do is think it and your spike will do it,” Robbie says.

Nora sits down and runs her fingers through her hair. Although she is now completely okay with everything, it is still a little unnerving.

“So when will the changes start?” she asks.

“It already has,” Robbie says, getting inches from her lips.

Nora leans in and kisses him.

“I suppose you want to hear about those dreams, now?”

“I do, but not now. Right now we celebrate,” he says, lifting her into his arms, she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Celebrate?”

“Yes, your birthday and our brief engagement,” he says kissing her.

F
eeling stronger than he has in years, Dumont lived in Silas’ body as any 25-year-old man would. Living life as he always thought he deserved (as a king). Eating only the finest of foods, wearing only the best clothes, and being sure to always have only the finest of women to join him in his bed.

Dumont for the first time lived a life he never thought he’d have. For months forgetting that his strength was temporary.

One evening while they were eating, Aria looks up at him and gives him a questioning smile.

“What’s on your mind Aria?”

“It’s really good to see you happy father, but …”

“But what? Are you not happy?” Dumont asks.

“It’s not about me.”

“Then what?”

“Another woman has come, claiming to carry the prince’s child,” Aria answers.

“Did you give her money?”

“I did.”

“So what is the problem?” Dumont asks.

“Just—are you trying to have children?” Aria asks softly.

“Ah, I see. Don’t worry. Even when the children are born you will be my one and only. No need to be jealous.” Dumont says.

“I’m not jealous, father. I’m just not sure what your intentions are.”

“Think Aria. This body won’t last forever. The next body will be of my own blood.” He says shoving chicken in his mouth.

“You would do that to your own blood?” Aria asks.

“What good is a child if they can’t be of use to you,” Dumont says as he glares at her. “I’m done looking at you for now. Please leave. I will call you for training in a few hours,” Dumont says, dismissing her with his hand as he finishes his meal.

“You’re 21-years-old today. How do you feel?” Dumont asks Aria during their training.

She breaths heavily as she blocks a punch to her chest. Dumont tosses his sword and gives her a stern look, awaiting her answer. Aria hesitates before answering. She looks to the ground.

“Still no change, father,” she says softly.

Dumont slowly walks toward her, his eyes gleaming with fury. He bends slightly to meet her ear.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” he whispers.

She shakes her head.

“How is it that your only gifts are the ones I gave to you? Maybe you’re a dud. Just maybe that is why your parents didn’t want you,” Dumont says stepping back.

He eyes her as if daring her to respond. Aria only stares at the ground, showing no emotion.

“I’m sorry, father,” she mumbles.

“No! Never call me that again! Not until you’ve proven yourself worthy to be my daughter again. Prove to me, you are worth loving. Can you do that?”

Aria nods and walks away. Not hurt or saddened by Dumont’s words, only angry. Angry at herself for again disappointing him.

Dumont slowly walks around the men and women that dangle by chains hung from the dungeon ceiling. They no longer scream or beg for their lives. Mostly because their mouths have been sewn shut and partly because they have been weakened by the many rubies implanted into the concrete walls. Their blood steadily drips from their open veins into buckets.

“I’ve never had my own torture chamber before. Do you like the beautiful stones I’ve added? I think they bring nice color,” Dumont says, sitting in a chair in front of the group. “Blood is such a powerful liquid. Fabulous with dinner. Oh, how I wish things could have been different.”

He laughs loudly.

“That’s a lie. This is the perfect ending for you,” he says. “All you have to do is say yes. But no—you Szion are so damn proud.”

Dumont stands and walks over to a woman. She gives a weak glare. He kisses her cheek.

“Not to worry my sweet. You, three ladies, will live long enough to deliver my children. Your pain will soon end,” he says placing his hand on her stomach.

Tears roll down her cheeks and her head drops.

“As for you men, I am going to give you another chance. Make your Szion calls to Robbie for help. Bring him to me and I will release you all.”

One man mumbles. Dumont snaps his fingers unthreading the man’s lips.

“How do I know you will keep your word,” he asks.

Dumont grins.

“You don’t. Make the call.”

“Release the others first.”

“No. The women stay. They …”

Dumont stops and his grin fades when he notices the woman next to him has stopped breathing. He lifts her head. He sighs and cocks his head.

“Pity. She was my favorite,” he says licking her bloody lips and dropping her head. “Two Szion infants is better than none.”

Dumont changes his focus back to the man.

“Well, are you going to make the call or not?”

The man hesitates. He looks over at the dead woman and shakes his head.

Dumont grins.

“Well, since there is no need to keep you around—goodbye,” he says, breaking all of the men’s necks with the snap of his fingers.