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THE NEVERVERSE
A MEMORY OF EMPIRE
“Youth is a blunder; Manhood a struggle, Old Age a regret.”
~ Benjamin Disraeli.
Prologue
Clenching his side to slow the bleeding, William desperately sought a hiding place in his vast library. But not for himself, for there was no place he could hide from those that pursued him.
No, there would be no escape from The Black Hand this time.
Gritting his teeth, and all but ignoring the sounds of breaking outside, William stumbled through the densely packed shelves working carefully not to leave any telltale signs of blood on his precious books. But it was a near futile effort. He was dying, his life trickling away with every heartbeat, like the sand of an hourglass.
Coughing and fighting his narrowing vision, William absently wiped the blood from his mouth and staggered to a stop. Snatching a green leather-bound book from its bed, he smashed the ornamental lock holding it closed on the edge of a shelf then shuffled back the way he came.
There will be no escape for us this time, William. Oto was right, we should have taken them all to Iralia and given them to Ilisa. But, Zirana and her twin must remain hidden and protected at all costs, old friend. Damn them all.
Iralia should have been a sanctuary, but Ilisa and her sister would have used them no less so than their grandfather. Gods Oto, there is more at stake here than just Ar’liana’s children. Not that you know who they all are... Ar’liana made sure of that, and now Alus’s daughter is tangled up in this mess.
Thinking of the dangerous half Ellin woman, Ar’liana, and her children William helped hide from Er’drin, the last Ellin Emperor, drew a fresh growl at sounds of breaking items floors below.
“Damn them, they have broken through,” William cursed, worrying at the clasps holding the book shut. With a snap and a sigh of relief, the last came free, revealing a space hidden inside. Hands trembling and vision blurring, William dumped a locket into a silvery bag and shoved the book onto a random shelf.
“The Black Hand won’t have it, Estellia, or Ar’liana’s girls. Damn you and your sister to hell. These girls are precious beyond accounting and The Council of Worlds will simply destroy them all,” William said, staggering back toward a spiral stair and pulling a twin of the locket deposited in the book from his coat. Placing a trembling hand on it, William whispered then wrapped it around his wrist.
“No time to secure you,” William said, grimacing at the pain in his chest, and all but dragging himself up the stairs to the library’s mezzanine floor, and its large oak desk. The effort was monumental and took near on the last of his strength.
“Where are you, man? I have little time left,” William coughed, fumbling a sheet of paper from a draw and scribbling on it, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Finished, William slumped to the floor to stare at the library’s stained-glass dome. The distant sound of a fading bell, earned only a ghost of a smile as his vision faded into the tree and sun of Iralia, picked out in the glass dome high above.
“Oto,” William breathed and fell silent.
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***
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Frowning at the viscous pool of red spreading from William, Oto crouched and closed his death-glazed eyes. “Messy William. You should have foreseen this,” Oto whispered, then growled in frustration at the sound of raised voices and breaking drawing closer.
William was dead, but his task would be completed, nonetheless.
Securing the devices from The Black Hand was all that mattered, and he had little time to do it.
Gods, you should have called on me days ago... but where is the girl, William… where did you hide her? The sharp crash of a nearby door bursting open prompted Oto to scoop a watch sized object up before it became stranded in the expanding pool of blood. Depositing the object in a bag of some silvery cloth, Oto pursed his lips regarding the deceased man before he shoved it into his suit jacket and pulled a crumpled note from William’s hands.
“You should have been a lot more cautious old friend. The Black Hand would have found you eventually, no matter which reality you hid yourself or the girl in,” Oto whispered, scanning the message scrawled on the blood smeared paper.
“Ellin names...? Who are they, William, and what are you trying to tell me, old friend?” Oto Hissed, and shoved the note into his jacket to check the old man’s pockets. Eyes narrowed, Oto frantically searched the corpse, but gave up in frustration.
There was nothing but the sheet of paper and the locket.
“Twice damn you, William. There should have been two gates!” Oto all but shouted, no longer caring if he were discovered. Growling at the sound of running feet outside, Oto cast his eyes around the library, but there was no time to search it.
“Where have you hidden it, William?” Oto hissed in frustration to the sound of axes crashing into the doors, their sharp blows echoing off the tall glass windows and stone walls.
Damn it, I told you we should have taken her to Iralia. She had the talent already, until you interfered and blanked her mind. Ar’liana would be furious if she knew you did that.
Emitting a frustrated sigh, Oto pulled a silver object from his pocket. Tapping it twice, he vanished from the library in a pop of rushing air as the doors burst open in a shower of splinters.
***
Two bulky blond-haired men shoved the doors aside, fire axes in hand, and cursed; just catching Oto vanish.
Glowering at the empty space, they made way for a dark-haired woman to enter. She would have been considered remarkably beautiful if it were not for the hard cast and air of danger she projected. The woman made a disgusted sound at the empty library, her face a mask of utter disdain, pale blue eyes fixed on the spot Oto occupied only moments before.
“Oto, I should have known they would send you, Varen,” Estelle hissed, her voice dripping with contempt. In a swirl of black silks, Estelle waved a dismissive hand at the men. “Remy...! Marcel...! Dispose of the body and seal this place, then summon the girl Millicent has!” Estelle hissed, sweeping from the room.
“Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head.”
~ Tad Williams
Chapter One
A gilded cage
Lost in thought, Jessica absently watched the water pass beyond the stonework, carrying little leaves and flotsam to an uncertain destiny. The delicate face of a young woman reflected back, light auburn hair shifting in the ripples and eddies. The ever shifting image drew little more than an absent smile at how the light cream of her long dress, blurred and blended into the buildings and trees, likewise captured on the surface.
Yet, Jessica did not really see the boats and buildings that lined the riverside of the Seine outside the only home she truly loved. Jessica was simply too caught up in turning the words of her father over in her mind to notice much at all, honestly.
It all seemed so sudden, and frankly quite unfair.
“Damn you, I was happy here,” Jessica hissed, balling her fist around the already crumpled letter. Frowning at it, she tossed the crumpled paper into the river and drank in the view.
I may not see this again for a very long time, Jessica thought with a frustrated sigh, watching the letter drift away with the other flotsam.
She had come to love Paris. It felt right here, a place she belonged to in a way Jessica never thought she could in London. For the first time she felt she fitted in, but father had called her stepmother Millicent home, and as much as she wished, they had ignored her pleas to stay. Well, Millicent had, and if her father knew Jessica’s feeling on the matter, she had no clue.
At father’s orders, she was to go to Posafol, nestled in the Rhône-Alpes to stay with her uncle and aunt. Or so she had been told. Honestly, Jessica had not seen her father in years since he sent her to Paris to study.
“But I have made friends here, mother, and I should like to stay. Eloise would have me,” Jessica had argued again just this past evening, to little effect.
Well, Jessica argued as much as she safely could with her stern stepmother, but the woman was having none of it.
“You will do as you are bid, child. You are not yet eighteen and neither are you wedded. With your father absent, you will be obedient, and I will hear no more of it,” Millicent growled back, and that was the end of it.
Jessica knew well enough to remain silent. Millicent was in no way averse in slapping her, having found that out the hard way when father first started seeing the woman. Although try as she may, the memory of when she last saw her father and when this woman took over her care seemed oddly hazy, much like a frosted window on a foggy winter day.
Well, at least I do not have to go back to London, dreary old place that it is, Jessica thought with a half-smile. The sound of a young porter dragging a cart over the cobbles broke her musings and attention from the rippling water.
“La calèche est arrivée pour vous, Mademoiselle,” he called out in rapid French. Jessica flashed a smile at the young man as she turned.
“Merci monsieur, auriez-vous la gentillesse de prendre mes bagages?” Jessica replied, moving toward an arriving carriage. The porter gave Jessica an apprising look and grinned as he picked up the cases and placed them on a small hand truck.
“Your Français is good, no?” the porter asked in slightly broken English. Jessica simply nodded at the young man, returning the grin. She would miss the city, but she was still in France.
That has to count for something, Jessica assured herself with a little frown of worry betraying her firm thought.
She could not help but feel uneasy at the prospect of time with her aunt and uncle. Jessica had not seen her uncle, William, since she was a very young girl, and that memory was as hazy as the rest.
But as for my aunt Estelle...? Well, I honestly have no true memory of an Aunt Estelle, Jessica thought, working to shove aside the feelings of uncertainty.
***
All too soon, Jessica found herself in a private compartment on a train bound for Lyon, the little knot of worry growing tighter. Pushing the worry away as best she could, Jessica gazed dejectedly out the window while the train pulled away from the Gare de Lyon and traveled through the city.
Drinking in the last glimpses of her beloved Paris, Jessica caught a tiny glimpse of the café she so loved while the train moved along the river.
Forcing a smile, Jessica wondered if she would ever chat with her Camille again while Claudia tried to play the piano, and badly at that, only to have Louis finally chase her back to the kitchen. She thought of the young man Lucien that mother disapproved of, and the flowers he would give her each day. Not to mention the stolen nights when Camille snuck into her room.
I think mother sent me to uncle’s to keep me away from socializing, Jessica thought with a rueful laugh. So, with the last vestiges of Paris proper dissolving into the surrounding countryside, Jessica closed her eyes, a sense of loss filling her.
I shall come back here and stay one day, Jessica swore, feeling that sense of dread once again tickling at the edge of her thoughts, and darkening her smile.
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***
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The journey to Posafol, and to her aunt and uncle’s chateau estate in the surrounding foothills of the Alps, took Jessica three uncomfortable days.
On the morning of the fourth, Jessica found herself on a platform in Porcieu-Amblagnieu, still an hour or more from her destination and completely alone. Feeling tired, disheveled, and wholly frustrated, Jessica frowned at the platform and no party to great her. So, as the last of the passengers trickled away and the coal smoke tang faded along with the sounds of the train, Jessica sat heavily on her travel chest.
“Damn them. And damn you, father. Did you even bother to tell them I was coming?” Jessica growled, folding her arms in frustration.
An hour later and still alone in an unfamiliar town, Jessica passed the time in a dream world, head in her hands perched on her travel chest.
Startled by sudden movement, Jessica looked up to see two bulky men accompanying a tall, striking, dark-haired woman dressed in black silk. The woman came to a stop just short of Jessica, appraising her with open hostility. With a sniff and a sigh, it was apparent that what she found she found truly lacking, indeed.
“You are Lady Jessica Munroe, are you not?” The woman asked in a haughty tone. Jessica regarded the woman for a moment, honestly unsure of what to say after such a long wait. In hindsight, it would have been best if she had spoken immediately, and on further pondering later, locked in her room, she should have simply fled.
“Stand when I am speaking to you, girl!” the woman barked at her.
Jessica immediately scrambled to her feet, a mixture of puzzlement and worry etched onto her face.
“Where are your manners? The Gods in heaven, Millicent has taught you none,” the woman spat. Jessica looked a little confused at the woman’s words before she suddenly curtsied to her.
God...? Jessica thought, and quickly shoved it away. The woman, who Jessica had an awful feeling may in fact be her aunt Estelle, made a disgusted noise, and waved at the men to bring Jessica’s trunk and cases.
“You will show me more respect, Jessica, or you will learn to. I can assure you of that,” snapped her aunt, biting each word off in a harsh staccato as she walked away. “Come. It is a long journey to the estate, and you have wasted enough of my time today,” Estelle hissed, glancing back with hostile eyes.
Jessica thought it wise not to point out she had in fact been waiting for an hour herself, and for that matter, on a platform in an unknown town.
On further reflection, the wait and not mentioning it were possibly the only things that went right that morning. With another curtsy to her aunt that the woman did not see, Jessica followed quickly behind.
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***
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The last leg of Jessica’s journey did not feel as long as her aunt made out, although saying such would also have been a grave mistake. So, Jessica remained silent, trying to keep her worried thoughts from showing on her face while the carriage rocked over the cobbled lanes.
Estelle said little to her for almost the full hour it took to get to the chateau, and simply sat regarding her with a disapproving frown.
“Your dress, you will change it to black and remain in black until I tell you otherwise, child,” Estelle suddenly snapped.
Jessica frowned at her aunt’s order, and at being referred to as a child.
I am seventeen and hardly a child, she thought. It was a moment of defiance Jessica instantly regretted when she was suddenly and quite soundly slapped.
“Never frown at me again! And do not question, girl. Just do as you are bid. The Gods in heaven, your stepmother was right; you do indeed need better discipline, that is abundantly clear,” Estelle said in a disgusted voice.
Her cheek stinging and that dark pit of worry only growing deeper, Jessica smoothed her face of as much emotion as she could and lowered her eyes. Good God, where have you sent me, father?
Pulling up the courage, and fully expecting another tirade and slapping, Jessica did exactly the thing she had just been told not to... she asked a question.
“Aunt Estelle, I mean no disrespect, but may I inquire the reason as to why I must wear black?” Jessica said, working to keep her voice as meek as possible.
Estelle regarded her with an icy stare before she sniffed and looked out the carriage window. “Your uncle is dead, girl, and you will show respect while in my house,” Estelle answered in a flat voice.
Jessica quickly looked at the floor to hide her reaction. She did not really remember her uncle all that well, and if she were honest with herself, the revelation of his passing was not the reason for her hiding her emotions.
I have no desire to spend time with this woman. She frightens me, Jessica thought, biting her lip and balling her fists to stop her hands trembling.
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***
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With an odd mixture of trepidation and relief, Jessica tried to ignore the glowering presences of her aunt when she spied the chateau gates through the trees, signaling the end of her worrying journey. In her mind, the chateau was a fairytale image made in stone, catching glimpses of it through the trees, as the carriage drove through the substantial estate grounds. Lofty towers pointed at the sky, festooned with ivy and climbing roses that crept along the walls and around the tall windows.
The structure was as imposing as it was beautiful. From the gate to the well-groomed garden and lawns lay row upon row of grapevines, a distance of some three hundred or more feet, she thought, although it could have been more. Grand stands of oak and elm trees bordered the northern reaches of the estate, folds in the curtain of trees affording little glimpses of broken towers of some long deserted castle, peaking through the branches. Jessica even glimpsed an ornamental pond through the hanging roses and hedges to the south of the chateau.
Yet, things still felt off. The place seemed empty, closed, and unwelcoming, despite being well kept.
The vacant stairs, devoid of maids and porters, caused Jessica to frown in consternation when the carriage rolled to a stop. Why are there no staff waiting? Surely they would have seen us arrive at the gate? Jessica thought, a deeper sense of foreboding tightening in her chest. She found it more than a little odd that no chateau staff waited to greet her when the carriage arrived outside the grand stairs.
When she had stayed at her uncle Eustace’s chateau in Normandy last winter, the house staff had greeted her lined up all in a row, dressed in crisp uniforms. But here at her aunt’s there was not even a footman to open the carriage door.
“You will be in my study as soon as you have changed. And do not tarry, girl. I will not abide laziness,” snapped Estelle, and swept up the stairs in a swirl of black silk, a thunderstorm looking for a mountain to crash against.
Jessica just sighed and followed the woman. This place is like a beautiful web with a nasty black spider nested in the middle, Jessica thought, and smiled at it, suppressing a little giggle at her aunt vanishing into the chateau.
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***
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After a long climb through a maze of hallways, Jessica found herself on the uppermost floor, marveling at the room presented to her while two bulky blond-haired men unceremoniously dumped her luggage on the floor. The two men had an unwholesome feeling she could not quite place, which had her shivering despite the warm sun. Rolling her eyes, Jessica dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the room.
It has just been a fraught day and I am out of sorts is all, Jessica mused, casting her eyes around her accommodations. The space was possibly the first positive thing to happen this day; the thought eliciting a little smile. Although, on later reflection, she had to wonder at how naïve she could truly be. It was expansive, airy and well appointed, but best of all, it connected to an extensive library and study.
Well, at least I will not be starved for reading. Eliciting a little laugh at the world of words, Jessica closed the library doors and set about changing into the only black dress she owned. It was a fussy affair of brocade silk and lace, but it had a small matching hat and veil. Nestled under the dress in a compartment that held her boots and shoes, Jessica took out the little dagger Camille gifted her in Paris.
“Not all men are safe, Jess, or some woman, for that matter,” Camille had said, kissing her softly the night before she was to leave.
Turning it in her hand, Jessica placed it with the dress and quickly changed, finally strapping it to her lower leg just above the boot top where Camille had told her to. For reasons she could not quite place, Jessica felt the needed to wear it. Not that she actually knew how to use it, but Jessica felt better for having it close.
So, with a deep breath and balling her fists to calm her nerves, Jessica exited the room in search of her aunt’s study.
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***
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An hour later, eyes red from the tears and a little too sore to sit comfortably, Jessica now knew why the maid who had guided her to her aunt’s study had given her a sympathetic look.
To the sound of the lock rattling into place after she had been unceremoniously pushed through the door, Jessica frantically tried all the ones in the library, thinking to escape. It mattered not where…
Just not here, back to the station maybe…. or any place else would be better, Jessica thought, her mind in a panic as she tried the last door... but they were all locked.
It would seem she would stay in this room for however long her aunt deemed the punishment was for.
Furrowing her brow, she made an exasperated sound. Honestly, Jessica thought the conversation in her aunt’s study had started out reasonably civil, all things considered. But it was the extensive list of rules that had been the Achilles' heel to her thoughts of freedom. Jessica, quite by accident in her opinion, made the mistake of questioning one, to which she was summarily and quite soundly caned for doing so. But that was not the worst of it. The woman had thrashed her again, when Jessica had been just a fraction too slow in curtsying and apologizing for questioning.
I have to get away from here. I think she actually enjoyed hurting me. The thought was as repulsive as it was disturbing to her. Still unable to sit for long thanks to the stinging, Jessica sighed and narrowed her eyes at the corners of the room and the grand windows.
There must be a way out of here, she thought. I have nothing better to do, so I may as well try.
Moving to the windows, Jessica’s heart sank when she noticed they were all nailed shut. Even if they were not, she was on the upper floor, so how would she ever get down? With a hollow pit forming inside, Jessica tried the doors in the library once again, noting they were also nailed shut.
The woman planned to lock me in here all along. Good God, father, what did I do for you to send me here? Jessica thought, her heart racing as a sickening fear rose inside her at the reality of being locked away.
She was trapped in a pretty little cage with no indication of how long they would keep her here, or indeed if she would ever be free again. And to think, I thought this room was the best thing to happen today.
Struggling to push down the fear, Jessica went in search of pen and paper in her luggage, but found it all missing. All her precious memories of Paris were gone, her diary and books vanished along with them.
Livid, Jessica slammed the lid shut. Estelle had left her with only the clothes she stood in and an empty trunk.
Lowering herself to the floor, a look of utter despair on her face, Jessica cried. When the storm slowly ebbed away, Jessica snorted a rueful laugh at the naivety of a letter ever reaching her father, even if she had found her pen and ink.
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***
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It could have been hours later, or much less, when the door’s lock rattled, a key turning in it. Jessica laughed openly when she realized there was not a single clock in any of the rooms, although the slightly hysterical edge to her laughter was more of a concern than the lack of any time keeping device.
With a click and a squeak, the door opened to admit the two burly men escorting a maid, carrying a cloth covered tray. The warm smell of fresh bread and broth filling the room when they entered had Jessica’s tummy reminding her of just how hungry she truly was.
Well, at least Estelle is not going to starve me, Jessica thought, snorting a bitter laugh at the idea, and earning a hostile look from one of the men.
Quickly placing the tray on a small table by the door, the maid cast a frightened glance at the men and all but dashed through the door.
Ignoring the maid, the man that gave her a black look leered at Jessica. He had a frighteningly hungry look in his eyes that caused her to cross her arms protectively over her chest.
It is no wonder the maid left so quickly.
With a smile that would not have been amiss on a jackal, he locked the door as he left.
Estelle sent two of you to escort a maid? How could any of you deem me such a grave threat of escape? And God, that man! Jessica shook her head and shuddered in disgust before walking to the table. The man seemed hungry in a deeply disturbing way.
Having spent much of the afternoon lost in thought, sitting perched on the wide windowsill of her pretty cage, Jessica had given little thought to the library, and least of all food. And a cage it was, as far as she was concerned…
A pretty little gilded one, but one none the less.
Twitching back the cloth, Jessica snorted at the meager fare hidden underneath. Yes, Estelle would feed her, but that would be about all. Yet the soup smelled wonderful, tasted marvelous, and the bread warm and fresh.
With her predicament forgotten for the moment, at the realization of how hungry she was, Jessica set about resolving at least that small problem.
Meal finished, and if not satisfied, at least much less hungry, Jessica sighed and left the table for the library.
Well, I have nothing better to do, and moping on a windowsill is not helping. I have, at least, many books and devices in the study to explore.
There was even a telescope, but unless she could get a window open, it would be useless, Jessica thought, and laughed openly at the thought of using the device.
If I could get a window open, the least of my thoughts would be to use it.
The bitter laugh that came when she thought of it worried Jessica a little. How do I stop from going mad in here, if I am to be locked away for any lengthy time? The thought drew a broad smile while she cast her gaze around the shelves.
“Well, books of course, silly,” Jessica exclaimed out loud, and paused when a new and unwelcome worry bloomed in her head.
“Good lord, I am talking to myself already, and it has not even been a full day,” Jessica said, and rolled her eyes at the irony of having just spoken it out loud and headed for the closest shelves.
Jessica could only marvel at the expansive library. Split into two levels, it contained books and display cabinets in abundance.
Good God, my room is a cupboard compared to this space, she thought in awe of the silent cathedral of books. The lower, and indeed, the upper library held dense rows of shelves taller than Jessica. Although, at five foot six and a little bit, she was hardly a tall woman, Jessica mused, noting little ladders down the rows would make getting to the high shelves a non-issue.
Running her hands along the spines of the leather and cloth bound books while wandering the shelves toward the centre, they elicited little wisps of dust that swirled and sparkled in the shafts of late afternoon sun.
Glancing up through the oval shaped opening to the upper floor containing a large writing desk and reading stand, Jessica smiled at the great stained-glass dome flooding the room with natural light.
But it was the wrought iron spiral stair and banister that near took her breath away. They were wonderful works of art, having been shaped to resemble vines and roses creeping along the edge of the upper floor to trail down the spiral stair. Jessica could almost smell the blooms lovingly picked out in red and white.
Above her head, suspended on thin wires, models of airships and fantastical flying machines hung displayed, as if in flight. Pausing to turn a globe of some fantastical world in the middle of the space, Jessica’s lips twitched into a smile that turned into a crooked grin of knowing at the dusty surface.
They do not use this place, and they have not cleaned it in a long time, Jessica thought, noting the dust on her fingers and the little handprint on the globe. The dust was a revelation of sorts that Jessica pondered as she made her way to the spiral stair.
They are simply reusing these rooms to hold me, and sealed them shut some time ago, Jessica thought, giving the shadow of a footprint on the upper balcony the same crooked smile as her little handprint on the globe.
Reaching the upper floor and marveling at the view it afforded of the library, Jessica let out a slow breath of astonishment at the sheer size of the space. It was indeed an entire top floor wing of the chateau.
Chateau...? This place is more a palace; Jessica thought in wonder at the great windows that ran the length of one side, and half of the other.
Running from near the floor to almost touch the ceiling with their rounded upper limits, they bathed the room in a dappled light, and all around were rows upon rows of little worlds bound in leather, wood, and cloth. At the farthest end, a great arched stained-glass window spanned the length of the wall, the panes picked out in parody of the rose garden below.
Scanning her little kingdom of words, Jessica spied an odd clean spot near the writing desk as she stood poised on the top of the stairs that puzzled her.
Why clean a single spot in this vast room? Jessica thought, frowning at it.
Making her way to the odd clean spot, she noted a second spiral stair leading down into the canyon of shelves. In her frantic search, Jessica had not seen this set of double doors that sat next to the stair. But it was not the fact she had missed them that made her eyes widen… it was the state they were in.
Good God, what happened here? Jessica mused, making her way slowly down the stairs to the near ruined doors.
Yet, she knew now why she had not seen them. In her frantic rush to find a way out, Jessica had never climbed the stairs to the mezzanine floor.
With shelves moved in the way, it meant the only access was by the stair. Crudely patched along the middle with a board nailed in place running from the floor to the top of the door, another had been nailed to the frame for good measure. Frowning at the scarred doors, Jessica noted cracks and tiny rents in the oak where a lock had once been.
With a wry smile, she lent down and looked through one of these cracks. There was honestly not much to see other than the opposite wall of the corridor outside, Jessica noted with a disappointed frown.
Out of curiosity, Jessica pushed on the doors, but they were solid and unmoving, nailed in place along the floor and upper frame. Shrugging at the scared and damaged doors, she voiced a disappointed sigh, and returned to the stair and exploration of her new home.
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***
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The following morning, as she lay curled on top of the bed, Jessica awoke with a fright to the sound of the door lock rattling.
Having slept fully clothed with a hand close to her dagger, Jessica shuddered at the memory of the man she knew now as Remy and his wandering hands late this past night. Oh, she was very well aware of what the man had intended. But as Remy unbuttoned her dress, the other guard stopped him and ordered him out, laughing that Estelle would have his balls if he played with this little one.
Jessica sat up and scrambled back when the door opened to admit the two burly guards. Remy had his hungry smile for her, while Marcel just looked bored. Jessica was sure they were twin brothers; they both looked far too similar for it to be otherwise. Both had long sandy colored hair, blue eyes and sharp features. The men would have been handsome, if it were not for their unwholesome feel. They both frightened Jessica deeply.
Pushing the door wide and stepping aside, they made way for her Aunt Estelle, who swept into the room, holding Jessica’s diary in one hand and her cane in the other. The woman’s face was a thunderstorm and her eyes the hail and rain.
Jessica just sighed. She may as well, she thought. I am going to get punished anyway, so what are one or two more hits for sighing? And besides, I thought it was rude to read another’s diary?
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***
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Pausing at her desk, Estelle tore her gloves off, and dumped them on the floor. As ruthless as she could be, what Estelle had just done left her feeling soiled and disgusted. Chase down a mind Gifted, harvest or bond their souls to The Council of Worlds will, Estelle had done, and would do again without question.
But break and beat a child simply to see if they have the gift of mind? Estelle snorted angrily at herself and dropped into a comfortable couch. Eyeing the men that followed her into the office, Estelle growled in disgust and pointed at the door.
“Get out!” Estelle half spoke, half shouted at them. Marcel raised an eyebrow at the heat in her voice, but said nothing when Remy spoke with a cautious tone.
“But we all need to report, sister. I would soon as not be summoned by The Black Hand and face the Truth Seekers,” Remy said, his voice growing in annoyance.
Narrowing her eyes at Remy, Estelle slowly stood, snarling at him. With a surprised yelp, Remy slammed against the wall as if an unseen hand had picked him up and thrown him against it. Her lip curling into a dark smile, Estelle casually approached him and cocked her head to the side.
“When I tell you to do something, Ramous, you will do it without question. Is that understood?” Estelle said, eyeing a struggling Remy, pinned to the wall straining against unseen bonds. “I will report to The Council, and you will do as you are told.” With a casual flick of her wrist, Remy crumpled to the floor.
Growling at Estelle, Remy slowly picked himself up, curling his fists as if ready to strike her back. “You will pay for that one day, Estellia,” Remy said, his tone icy and full of menace.
The sound of a hard slap snapped his head to the side, yet no hand had visibly struck the man. “Know your place and mind your manners, Ramous. Now get out and send the woman in the kitchens to sort out the girl,” Estelle snapped. Snorting in disgust, she returned to the couch and dropped into it.
You are a liability, Ramous, and one I will need to dispose of soon, Estelle pondered, making a terse sound at the thought of the man and returned her mind to the problem at hand. The girl had shown no sign of emerging talent, even with pain and deep fear, regardless of Millicent’s report.
Beating her again would achieve little, Estelle knew, but The Council of Worlds would demand it, until the girl either died or showed herself as an An’sary, or a mind Gifted, to use the simpler term.
Gifted? That is such a small word for such a large problem. How many of you have I run down or broken? The thought drew a sigh of unease from Estelle. Twenty or more years in bondage to The Council and I have brought so much death.
Still, she would do the Masters of Riviam’s will or die herself. Not that she truly had any choice in the matter, for The Council of Worlds would compel her, anyway. No, Estellia Yasmin Ve would do their bidding as she always had, and run down, dispose of, or bond the Gifted of mind before they became a threat to the order of the multiverse.
Yet, few had ever become so, discounting Varen Ty’lin and Anna d’Aviamier, along with a handful of others. But that was not an argument or indeed a thought she would voice with the powerful group mind that was The Council of Worlds.
To do so would be painful at best and terminal at worst.
“Varen... how long have you been running?” Estelle whispered, thinking of the man, and grunted at the thought.
A long time, much like Anna, and now you call yourself Oto. Yes, you are truly lost as the Ellin word implies. Lost to me and to yourself. But at least Tavrin had the sense to join The Black Hand, mused Estelle. Pushing the thoughts of her onetime lover and bondmate, Oto aside, Estelle prepared her mind for what was to come.
One thing I learned from you, Dh’sah, was how to hide my true thoughts, Estelle mused, thinking of the Ellin woman that had taught her. And be thankful she did, Estellia, or your new masters would have killed you long ago.
Taking a deep breath, Estelle retrieved her locket from its silver bag and knelt on the floor.
Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for what was to come.
Focusing her will on the device in her hand, Estelle reached out to The Council of Worlds, and felt their dark presence greet her.
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***
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Panting and face beaded with sweat, Estelle lay curled in a fetal ball for a while after her contact with The Council of Worlds. The experience was always unpleasant and often painful. Her body hurt, and her mind felt raw and damaged after their less than gentle touch, but she had experienced worse questionings from them.
Drawing a ragged breath, Estelle pushed herself up from the floor and crawled onto the couch, brushing the tears from her cheeks with an absent hand. The contact had been short but painful.
The Masters of Riviam were less than pleased with her lack of progress.
Having told them beating the girl further would earn little more than it had already, Estelle had received a beating herself for her impudence.
Snorting at the memory, she cast her mind out and brushed the girl’s frightened thoughts. Believe me Jessica, a cane hurts less, and the sting of it lingers all but an instant, compared to the grinding will of those minds.
Still, she had gained more information to work with. The girl could only be one of the Gifted of mind, even if the talent had not yet emerged, and she was to be used as a beacon to draw out her companions.
Her bond mates, to use the proper term.
That explains why she was not simply taken to Riviam and broken by The Council themselves, Estelle mused. Yet, in their zeal to impart their will on Estelle, The Council had unwittingly told her much more than they may have realized, and it left her with a feeling of icy dread.
A nexus of minds? Estelle thought and shuddered. Such a gathering of powerful Gifted is almost unheard of. But, yes that would indeed be something they would fear. Yet such a revelation did not truly concern her.
It was a name barely whispered by them that brought a fresh flush of fear, and oddly hope to Estelle.
Ar’liana… that is a name you have not heard whispered in fear in a long time Estellia. Just what are you up to, my old friend?
Narrowing her eyes, Estelle shoved her device back into its silver bag and almost dropped it when a deeper flush of fear flashed through her.
Surely not? The girl cannot be one of yours? thought Estelle, eyes widening at the revelation.
A nexus? Gods, if she is one of yours, Ar’liana, then all her bond mates are! It is no wonder The Council wants them disposed of. They are more than a threat to them. They could be their undoing.
Shoving the worrying thoughts aside and taking a deep, ragged breath, Estelle curled into a ball on the couch. There was little she could do about it for now. Contact with the Group Mind always left her weak and battered, and she needed to sleep.
“Pulvis et umbra sumus. We are but dust and shadow.”
~ Horace, The Odes of Horace
Chapter Two
Of antiques and dust
Blowing an offending strand of hair from her face, Lauren dropped a stack of books on yet another growing pile.
Do we actually sell any of these things? thought Lauren with a mental sigh, and shrugged. “Not really my problem now is it, as long as I get paid,” she whispered, patting her hands on her long black pants, and leaving little hand prints. Growling a little at them, Lauren rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
Just great, now I am a mess. Black was a smart color to do this in, Laura. You are a genius, Lauren growled, watching the dust settle on the screen of her phone, showing up as little fingerprints and lines revealing where her finger had last traced across the device.
Sighing at the dusty hand prints, she turned and took another pile from the cart full of old tomes. The elderly owner, for some odd reason, seemed to acquire more of these old leather-bound things than he could reasonably consider selling. Along with the stacks of books, Mr. Connors, the owner of this vast metropolis of books, dust, and junk, sold antique items and furniture. New items seemed to appear endlessly to be added to what seemed near infinite halls of old junk.
Another week, another estate sale, and Mr. Connors brought the lot, or as close to it as the rest did not matter. Lauren chuckled. But it was a job and study did not pay for itself. Well, not the rent each week, that was for sure, even if her distant parents paid for her tuition. If only she could actually live in London, but Lauren could barely afford the rent where she was, let alone here in the historic middle. Blowing the offending strand of hair away again, Lauren cursed at it and rolled her eyes.
It was one thing after another in her opinion, and working today was simply in the way of getting her assessments completed on time. Growling at the workload for her art school, or possibly the stray strand of hair, Lauren was honestly not sure which; she dumped the books back on the trolley in a cloud of dust.
“Well, we are not short of mirrors around here, that is for sure,” Lauren said, picking out one of the near two dozen mirrors on the only wall not armored with layers of books.
Untying the simple elastic that held her long sandy colored hair, she set about putting the offending strands back in place. Finished, she regarded her image on the slightly dusty surface. At twenty-three, she was finishing her final year of study, and not soon enough, in her opinion.
Lauren was a slight woman with piercing blue-gray eyes set in a delicate face, yet not even her parents could explain the light ring of violet around their edge. It often caught people off guard, to Lauren’s great amusement, but it also caught men’s eyes, which was a blessing and a curse in equal measure… well, in her opinion. Indeed, Lauren was a beautiful young woman, but right now, she felt a very dusty one. With an exasperated sigh, Lauren returned to stacking books for her employer.
The man is not even interested in cataloging them. He only wants to inspect them, and after that he seems not to care if they sell or rot.
Shrugging at the oddity of the man’s disinterest in what he brought, Lauren clapped her hands to rid them of dust and pushed the now empty cart back to its little alcove.​​ ​​Honestly, the three-story building was a junk collector’s fantasy. Even Lauren had to admit she found many things that fascinated her among the flotsam of people’s past treasures. But right now, she could not care less. Her eyes felt dusty, her mouth felt dusty and her head felt dusty.
I have a submission due tomorrow that needs editing, Lauren thought and grimaced at the memory of the workload ahead of her.
Rolling her eyes and snagging her phone on the way past, Lauren headed for the door with a wave to the owner.
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Connors,” Lauren called out when she passed.
The old man looked up from his reading at the shop counter and smiled, lifting his hand with that strange black tattoo of a hand on its palm. Waving in return, Lauren plucked her coat from a stand by the door and exited the quiet store onto the noisy central London Street.
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***
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If Lauren had taken the time to think about it, and the events that would change her life forever, she would have thrown her textbooks out of the flat window, and gone drinking with her third-year friends with no regrets.
How they managed to actually socialize and make grades still baffled her. But, as she went to send another text reply to her best friends, to tell them she could not go to the pub with a submission due the next day… Lauren gave up and threw the phone at the bed next to her desk. Head in hands, Lauren stared at the laptop screen. The words may as well have been beetle scratching or hieroglyphics. Lauren simply could not concentrate. With a little growl, she hit save and closed the lid on her old laptop.
Maybe I do need a drink? Lauren thought and pursed her lips at the phone on her bed.
Snorting at the device, Lauran ignored it and went in search of her stash of tea.
Opening the metal container, she spotted the odd locket she accidentally acquired from the shop. Oh, she would return it at some point, but the design had at once been fascinating, and at the same time disturbing to see. The item, Lauren assumed, was little more than junk jewelry fashioned to resemble an eye.
That in itself was not really disturbing or indeed that unusual.
It was the swirls and patterns of what looked like words traced over the palm sized object that captured her attention. You simply could not trace their placement. Somehow, your eye got lost, then disorientated, as if your vision rejected the object’s existence.
Lauren accidentally discovered the item hidden in the back of a small puzzle box that came with a consignment of books and other junk. The item had simply fallen out, and Lauren, in a hurry, picked it up, stuffing it in her pocket for safekeeping. It was not until she arrived home the night before that she had remembered it was still in her possession. The tea caddy was open when she got home, so she dumped it in there at the time for no other reason than that it was available.
The object felt much too heavy for its size.
Probably full of lead, Lauren thought, holding it up by the long silver chain that captured it.
The middle of the eye, picked out with some blue stone, seemed to glow faintly, causing Lauren to shudder as she looked at it. It was as if the damn thing was actually watching her back, but the oddest thing was the feel of the locket… if indeed that was what it was, having no obvious way of opening.
The object felt tingly to the touch, and that was the only way she could describe it. It felt like little sparks touching your skin gently, and if held to the ear; it had a faint hum like a tuning fork coming to rest. Lauren felt mesmerized by the item, almost hypnotized by the sound and feel…
Jumping with a little start at her phone, shouting for attention, Lauren blinked away an odd after image of a girl with red hair. Buzzing loudly and with a little chime, her phone once again announced a new message from her friends, quickly followed by a third. Frowning at the phone, and shaking her head to clear the odd afterimage of the red hair and hazel violet banded eyes; Lauren dumped the locket back in her tea caddy.
Shit, how long was I looking at it? Lauren thought with a little puzzled frown.
According to her wall clock, it had been a full ten minutes locked in a frozen gaze, watching and listening to the object. Shuddering at the watchful stone set in the locket, Lauren quickly put the lid back on the caddy and placed it back on her bookshelf… but somehow that did not seem to help.
It feels like the damn thing is still watching me, Lauren thought and snatched her phone from the bed to message her friends she would meet them at the pub.
I need a drink, and time away from study. My mind is turning to mush.
With a nervous laugh, not sure if she was simply convincing herself that it was the long hours of study and not some old junk jewelry that had her in a trance, Lauren all but ran from her room.
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***
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Hours later, and feeling a little warm from a few too many drinks, Lauren shoved her door open and sighed at the pile of books and submissions. Her head felt no less foggy than when she left to see her friends.
Honestly, Lauren had not drunk that much, but she had left before things got a little too involved with a young man that liked her. He was nice, of course. That was not the issue, but Lauren’s practical side as ever won over her adventurous one… and, well, the drinks were flowing, and she really needed to get work done. In hindsight, Lauren should have stayed and gone home with the man.
Why am I always so damn practical? Lauren mused.
But it did not really matter, and the bloody submission would not write itself, Lauren thought, shoving the door shut. Dumping her keys on the counter and dropping her coat on the bed, Lauren sat heavily in the chair at her desk.
I really need to get this submission done, Lauren thought, sighing and opening the device’s lid, then promptly flinched at the bright screen stabbing at her eyes in the dimly lit room.
But first I need hot tea to wash the booze from my brain.
Taking her caddy, Lauren opened the lid and immediately regretted it. Nestled among the bags of Earl Grey tea lay the very reason she went for a drink to begin with. Releasing a little sigh, Lauren pulled the thing out and traced the designs, noting a tiny speck of tea sitting on the eye. Frowning at it, Lauren tried to blow it off the pale stone, but it moved only a little, so with a finger she brushed at it twice…
And the room exploded in silver light.
When it cleared, Lauren found herself standing in the middle of a vast field of grass, the only problem being… the grass was purple black and the sun on the horizon a dim, angry red.
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***
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Jessica limped a little for a day or so after her aunt arrived that first morning, with her diary in one hand, and a cane in the other. Estelle had been in a near murderous rage, calling Jessica’s private thoughts smut while she tore pages from Jessica’s diary.
“You disgust me,” Estelle said coldly before throwing the diary at Jessica.
Jessica simply smiled at Estelle. She had obviously read Jessica’s hopes and desires for her young woman in Paris. Unfortunately, that smile was her biggest mistake to date for the thrashing she received left her a crumpled weeping mess, dress torn where the cane had splintered and cut her upon breaking.
Jessica had little idea how long she lay on the floor after Estelle left to inflict misery on some other poor soul, before a startled intake of breath drew her eyes. A motherly woman, who smelled like fresh bread and ginger snaps, gently picked Jessica up from the floor, and ordered the guards out in harsh rapid French. It was quite obvious she had nothing but contempt for the two men.
“We must fix you up, child,” the woman said, holding her close, a look of deep concern, and not a small touch of fear in her eyes.
“Come, you must bathe. Then I will take you to my kitchen, as you need more than soup,” she said, pulling Jessica to her feet. More than a little bewildered, and in quite a bit of pain, Jessica limped past the threshold of the room to an ornate bathroom on the floor below. The woman actually bathed her and set about cleaning cuts and brushing her long hair.
Finishing the task and glancing at the bathroom door, the woman leaned in and whispered in her ear. “We will get you free. What the mistress is doing is wrong. No moral woman could abide it,” the motherly woman said with a note of reproval in her voice.
Jessica looked quickly around at the woman, fear and hope in her eyes. “You would help me,” Jessica whispered back.
The woman nodded slowly a warm yet worried smile on her face. “Yes, but it will take time to arrange. Mind your words and manners, until then, and we will do what we can,” she replied.
Dressed in a long silk robe, the woman Jessica now knew as Genevieve, lead her down to a vast yet homely kitchen nestled in the basement of the giant building. Once seated at a long kitchen table, Genevieve placed fresh bread, ham, and greens in front of her.
“Eat, girl. In here you are safe, and my boys are close. They will see no harm done while you are in my care,” Genevieve said with a sharp nod.
With genuine thanks, Jessica ate and listened to the woman as she chatted in French. Jessica had to stop her now and then to ask the meaning of a word or phrase to which Genevieve would laugh.
“You spent too much time in Paris, little one. Out here, this is where the real people live, and we speak a whole different language,” Genevieve said after explaining a word Jessica was unsure of. Honestly, it sounded more German than French, to Jessica, and Genevieve’s accent sounded off, in Jessica’s opinion. Not that it mattered, Jessica just felt relieved to have a chance to escape if she could believe the woman. After a time, and with a look of deep sadness, Genevieve led Jessica back to her room. On the bed lay her black dress, having been mended and returned.
“We will do all we can, Jessica,” Genevieve whispered in her ear and left. The lock clicking into place sounded harsh and heavy in Jessica’s ears.
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***
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Making her way quickly down to the kitchen, Genevieve locked the door before pulling a locket from her dress pocket.
That has to be her, Genevieve thought, taking a seat by the expansive fire. Running her finger around the device, Genevieve placed her hand on it and closed her eyes, wary of the energy she had to use being noticed by Estelle.
Mistress, I think I have found her, Genevieve cast out and received a little surprised thought in return.
Are you sure? A soft feminine voice returned. You must be completely sure it is my Zirana before you act. The Council must not know it is my hand taking her, continued the voice, causing Genevieve to frown and grunt at the returning thought.
I will need to touch her mind and watch her for a time, mistress. But you should know it is Estellia that has her, Genevieve replied, and frowned at the door latch moving.
I must go, she said, quickly stuffing the device into her pocket and moving to the kitchen door. Taking a deep breath, Genevieve opened it and sighed in relief as her son raised an eyebrow.
“Dion, you near scared me to death,” Genevieve said, pulling him through the door and latching it again. Before he could say a word, Genevieve shoved him into a chair and smiled.
“The girl must be the one Ar’liana seeks. Contact Anna and have her ready to meet us here,” Genevieve snapped back. Dion eyed her for a moment, then grunted at what she said.
“A ship...? Why not just use a gate to get the girl away?” Dion replied and smiled at Genevieve’s rolled eyes.
“Because the mistress wants this done discreetly is why. Now take your brother to the ruins and message Anna. If I know that woman she will be chasing pretty Trinian girls, or gambling in one of the dens around Orion Four, if not simply drunk. Tell her our mistress commands her to retrieve us and a passenger, no questions asked,” Genevieve whispered, pointing at the door and gracing her son with a significant look.
“Anna won’t like that,” Dion replied and sighed at his mother’s hard look. “Yes, mother,” Dion said, heading for the door.
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***
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Jessica saw nothing of her aunt for almost a week since the beating. Good, the woman is honestly evil, there is no other word for it, Jessica thought while she browsed the shelves of her library.
Jessica could apparently eat in the kitchen now with Genevieve and her sons. But she doubted it was through any form of kindness, and more likely practicality for this tentative freedom. Whatever the reason, from the first day, it quickly became apparent there was quite the division between staff in this great house. The men that acted as her guards were certainly unwelcome in the kitchen, and Genevieve’s boys, Dion and Raoul were not shy in telling them so.
“We will return her and keep watch. You know you are not welcome in here Marcel, and your brother, much less so. Touch one of the maids again and I will cut your balls off. Gods, there are only two left as it is,” Dion growled in rapid French, slapping a hand on Marcel’s chest the first morning Jessica was taken down to the kitchens for breakfast. She thought there would be a fight as the moments dragged on, before Marcel finally raised his hands and backed out of the door.
“Un tas de merde,” Jessica caught Dion say, slamming the kitchen door and giving her a warm smile. “He not harm you petite dame. I break his skull if do.”
Jessica actually laughed at the man’s slightly broken English, then thanked him in French.
“Merci monsieur, vous êtes un homme bon,” Jessica said, inclining her head.
Dion smiled at her and set about helping his mother in the kitchen.
“Your French is good, little lady, but you sound like Paris, if you pardon my meaning,” Dion said with a little chuckle, and flash of a smile. Jessica laughed again at the comment; it felt good to do so.
“Yes, your mother has already informed me as such,” Jessica said in return, nursing a hot cup of tea. She came to crave these small moments of normality when she was released into the care of Genevieve.
Yet, she could not help but notice the appraising looks the woman gave her from time to time, as if she were weighing her character. Not that Jessica cared. The kitchen was a sanctuary and a welcome one. Jessica cried herself to sleep most nights locked in her room dreaming of home and her beloved Paris. It was during one such morning, quietly eating breakfast, that Raoul revealed that the house staff were all new to this house.
“We have only been here a few months, my lady, and only the grounds men have been here longer, but they speak to us little,” he said with a note of worry.
The revelation struck a discordant note in Jessica.
If Aunt Estelle is to be believed, Uncle William passed away but two months ago, Jessica thought a cold pit forming she could not quite put a finger on.
Jessica did not know why, but the thought gave her a deep flush of fear. Estelle had been tight-lipped about her uncle’s death, and Jessica knew now it would be quite unwise to ask.
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***
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With a dark frown, Estelle drew her mind back, and sniffed at the feel of another Gifted mind. She had felt just a sliver of a mental conversation close by, once the light and motion cleared from her travel between worlds.
Who are you? Estelle pondered, pulling her gloves off and dumping them on her desk.
The past few days had been little more than a distracting disaster, in her opinion, having been called away to Terra proper to demand answers from the agents stationed there. Estelle was furious at the loss of a possibly Gifted girl on that world. But the damage was done, and the girl lost into the multiverse.
Yet another we will have to hunt down in time.
How the girl had come by a gate device to travel worlds was a mystery, considering the agent watching the girl should have sensed her ability emerging. So, Estelle would now be forced to answer to her order on Riviam, and The Black Hand was not known for their forgiveness.
Still, the agent in charge of the safe house the girl worked at would be questioned and severely punished for his lapse. Millicent, on the other hand was in disgrace; she had failed within days of starting her new duties and would be sent back to Riviam for her part in losing the girl. Dismissing the frustration at yet another mess to clean up and Gifted to chase, Estelle cast her mind out, brushing the minds of close by staff, and smiled.
“Ah, there you are,” Estelle said in a soft menacing voice, then growled when the mind masked, vanishing into the sea of mind space.
Marcel! Estelle cast at the man, her mental command icy at best.
She truly despised her so-called brothers, but they had their uses.
Come here and bring your useless brother with you, Estelle added, moving to her couch and dropping onto it. She was tired and needed food, but above all, sleep before the local agents arrived for briefing and dinner. Yet another irritation she had little care for.
And you, my supposed brothers, you are nothing of the sort.
“You are little better than animals,” Estelle growled out loud, and snorted in disgust, lying back on the couch. But they knew where to find her. They were so tuned to her mind and the gate she carried; she did not need to seek them in the vast building. No sooner had the door opened to admit Marcel and Remy; Estelle raised a hand and waved them to an opposite couch.
“We have a Gifted hiding in this house. Find them and bring them to me. Kill them if you must. I don’t care either way, just go to the kitchens and have them send me something to eat,” Estelle commanded, and dismissed the two men. “Oh, and make sure the girl is in her room before the hour is out.”
With a deep sigh, Estelle closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Traveling worlds took a toll on the body as much as the mind, and if prolonged, it could kill.
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***
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Jessica sighed at the overturned room and cast a black look at Marcel. Grunting at it, Marcel unceremoniously shoved her in and slammed the door.
Why would you need to search it again? You took everything I own already, Jessica mused, taking a deep breath and setting to righting the mess.
According to Genevieve, her aunt had guests in the house tonight, and Jessica was not to be seen. So, it was as evening light filtered through the stained-glass dome she found herself randomly pulling books from shelves, reading some, and discarding others, all to the sounds of a dinner party filtering up from the floors below. The one thing Jessica was truly thankful of her father for was his insistence on language lessons as she browsed the shelves.
So many of the books in this collection are in different languages, some I do not even know.
But many Jessica could indeed read, and the others, with a little help from her studies, she could puzzle out. This ability to absorb the written and spoken word had come naturally to her from a young age, a skill she was at this moment very grateful for.
Running her hands along the spines of books hidden back in the far corner of the library under the great stained-glass arch, Jessica selected a dark green leather bound volume. It felt far too light for its size. Turning the tome to read the cover, it emitted an audible clunk from inside.
What secret do we have here? She wondered, then scanned the surrounding shelves.
How many more like you are there in this collection? That could be an amusing pastime to shed away the hours in captivity, Jessica thought with a wry grin.
Taking the book, Jessica walked back toward the middle of the library and climbed the spiral stair to place it on the reading desk.
On inspection, the book was rather plain. The inscription she at first glance thought was Latin, was little more than nonsense, and the only other interesting feature was a broken lock in the middle.
However, the book was still held tightly shut by two brass clasps she had to worry at for a while to unclip. Yet once free, the book opened to reveal a shiny metallic bag with a silver locket secured within.
Well, that was what it appeared to be when she tipped the bag’s contents out into the empty book.
The object about the size of Jessica’s palm had been crafted in the shape of a heart. This in itself was not all that remarkable. Jessica had a similar, if not smaller, one with a picture of her mother in it. Well, she had owned one being the correct words since her aunt had taken all her possessions away. What caught her eye were the designs and letters etched into the surface of the object. No matter how she tried, her eye would simply not follow the swirls and scrolls. It was as if the eye rejected the object’s existence and wanted you to stop looking at it.
Picking it up from the little box fitted into the book, Jessica almost dropped it as it tingled in her hand. Frowning at the locket, she held it up to her ear. It had a faint sound, like a distant bell vibrating to a stop.
A loud crash, and doors slamming, caused Jessica to quickly put the object back in the book and close it. The raised voices and running feet grew louder before they passed outside the library doors. Frozen in place, and letting the voices fade away until all she could discern was the sounds of the dinner floors below, Jessica sighed with relief and opened the book again to remove the object.
“What on earth are you?” Jessica whispered, placing it in her hand. “Well, you are much too heavy for your size.”
With a little smile, Jessica put the chain around her neck and hid the object inside her high-necked dress.
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Genevieve bit back tears as she ran through the night shrouded estate grounds. Her son Raoul was dead or missing, having failed to secure the Jessica girl. Dion was alive, and like herself, wounded in the fight to flee Estelle.
“Damn that woman,” Genevieve hissed, sensing a spike in mental energy and tree branches shatter behind her. “Quickly, Dion, they are gaining on us. Where did Anna say she would land?” Genevieve shouted in an out of breath voice.
“Not far. On the other side of the ruins,” Dion shouted back and growled when another psychic surge of energy shattered a tree. “Damn you, mother, use a fak’n gate to get us out of here. It is not just Estelle but a good dozen agents with her,” Dion added, his speech slipping back into that of Trinian, the world he grew up on. Genevieve just shook her head and nearly stumbled on the broken stones leading up to the ruined castle.
“No, they can follow us that way, but they can’t gate jump to a ship… Estelle is good, but not that good, so run,” Genevieve growled back, ducking into the grass covered inner bailey with a sigh of relief at the sight of a jump ship through the broken arches on the other side.
“Help me,” Genevieve snapped, clasping Dion’s hand and coming to a halt. “The arch stones, pull them down,” Genevieve hissed and pushed her mind at the cracked stone. She was not strongly Gifted, and neither was her son, but together there would be just enough to block the entry. As the stones shifted and tumbled, Genevieve caught sight of Remy and Marcel running through the trees, and other indistinct shapes; most certainly Council Agents following.
“Hurry, that will not hold Estelle for long,” Genevieve shouted, and bolted toward the ship.
Reaching the jump frigate, Genevieve collapsed through the door and shouted at the pilot to go as Dion pulled the door closed. The sudden surge knocked him from his feet when the ship lurched and threw itself at the sky.
“What the hell have you two stirred up?” the crisp voice of Anna hissed through the intercom, prompting Genevieve to stagger to her feet. Making a terse sound, Genevieve pushed away her son’s helping hand and marched toward the flight deck.
“Doing what our mistress commands us to do, Anna, as you damn well know,” Genevieve shouted back upon entering the fight space. The auburn-haired woman at the flight controls simply grunted and waved Genevieve into a seat.
“Yeah, well, it is who you are running from that bothers me, Genie. After I make this jump, you are going to explain or I will dump you back on Trinian where I found you,” Anna hissed back and slapped a ring attached to cables on her head. “Unless you want to throw up, take a deep breath and make yourself useful. This is going to be a rough dimensional jump. I fak’n done one already today and I don’t have the strength to make it far or comfortable,” Anna continued, pointing at the co-pilot’s seat.
With a disgusted growl for Anna’s reply, Genevieve dropped into the seat and tapped up the navigation display. “Where are we going?” Genevieve said crisply, setting the jump drive for charge.
“Terran Empire Space, and that abandoned shithole old earth. It is the closest dimensional point, Genie,” Anna replied, closing her eyes and gripping the armrests. “Well, fak’n punch in the code Genie, I may as well get this done. Fak I hate these jumps. They hurt like hell.”
Grunting at the comment, Genevieve entered six numbers in the console behind her and set the jump time. “Six seconds, Anna,” Genevieve said, and winced in sympathy with Anna as the space around them flashed into light.
Letting out a painful hiss, Anna tore the ring from her head and slumped in her flight chair. “That fak’n hurt. Now who the fak are you running from that you would need me and not a gate? Dion was more than a little vague about what you three have been up to,” Anna said flatly, eyeing the dead planet ringed in broken ships and detritus, before rolling her head and fixing Genevieve with a truly hostile gaze.
Sighing at the black look, Genevieve glanced at Dion, then turned her flight seat to face Anna. “Princess Estellia,” Genevieve said, and ducked when Anna swore and threw the dimensional jump ring at her.
“You stupid fak’n shits! Estellia is not some fak’n low level seeker Genie, and you damn well know it. She will hunt us down with or without a ship. That woman gives evil a bad name. Next you will tell me Varen is involved or Oto, or whatever fak’n name he is using these days… but Estellia? What the fak were you doing to get so close to that evil bitch?” Anna shouted back and pushed the mass driver’s control forward, prompting her little jump ship to move out of the path of a chunk of broken and twisted metal.
“Gods, this place is a dump,” Anna said absently, returning a hostile look to Genevieve. “Well…? Answer the fak’n question Genie?”
Taking a deep breath to calm her own rising temper, Genevieve let it out slowly and moved from the fight chair to a plush couch.
“I don’t know if Varen is involved, but considering that estate we just left belonged to William d’Ry’lin, I would assume so,” Genevieve replied, tapping a draw beside her open and fishing out a bottle containing a pale blue liquid.
Moving to the navigator’s chair, Anna just grunted at the comment and pulled up a jump code. “Yeah, well, if you see that prick, ask him where my children are. Ar’liana won’t tell me. Anyway, you have still not answered my question, Genie. What brought you so close to Estellia?” Anna asked, turning to the console behind her and punching the numbers in.
“She has one of Ar’liana’s girls. I am sure of it,” Genevieve said in a flat voice, and rolled her eyes when Anna swore at her.
“Oh, fak that, and fak you both. I want nothing to do with this. If she has one of Ar’liana’s brats and knows it, Estellia will come looking for you, or The Council will send its dog En’nar or that rat-faced prick Dar’mat in her place. En’nar is a cold, unforgiving fak’n psychopath, and considering the Ellin are all cold fak’ers to begin with, that is saying something,” Anna shouted back, returning to her flight seat and hitting the jump cycle without warning Genevieve or Dion.
Once the jump light cleared, Anna left her flight seat and stomped to the couch.
“I am giving you a choice, Genie. Stay with me and run, get off at Orion Four and find your own way back to Ar’liana, or go your own way. I don’t give two fak’s which one you choose, but I am done with Ar’liana and her web of shit. If Estellia is on the trail of Ar’liana’s half-breed brats, I am out. That woman will start a war if any of the great factions find out what she has been up to, and you know it,” growled Anna, snatching the bottle from Genevieve and taking a sip.
“You can’t run forever, Princess,” Dion said in a flat voice, earning little more than a disgusted snort from Anna.
“Don’t call me that, you prick. My house disowned me a millennium ago when I ran with Varen and his Red Hand. So don’t insult me with my past, for you don’t know shit, boy,” Anna snapped, waving the bottle at him.
Dion simply grunted at the reply, earning a deeper growl from Anna.
“I know what you are thinking and you can get fak’d. I owe Ar’liana nothing, and if she won’t return my girls, then I doubt she even knows where they are. That woman is a worse liar than I am, and mark my words, she will use you up and betray you just like all the others. Don’t forget it was her that started this whole fak’n mess, along with her sisters in the first place,” Anna shouted at them.
Making a terse sound at Anna’s tirade, Genevieve stood and walked to the flight controls.
“Well, go your own way Anna, but the least you can do is drop us off near The Tendril Gate making our journey a good bit shorter,” Genevieve said briskly, while punching up the jump code to the outer rim cluster of planets. “But you mark my words, little miss. If you think Estelle is a hard bitch, she has nothing on Ar’liana, and if you anger her? Well, I don’t like your chances of living much longer.”
Snorting at the veiled threat, Anna went to throw the bottle at Genevieve and thought better of it. Pushing the cork back into it, Anna tossed the bottle to Dion and took her flight seat.
“Get fak’d. And get off my ship,” Anna growled, slapping the jump button. “If you two want to die, then get on with it. I have no desire to tangle with Estellia, and you can be damn sure The Black Hand will come looking for you if they even suspect Ar’liana made those girls, and you know of it.”
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***
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Estelle snarled at the ship, spiriting Genevieve away as it took to the air.
That all but confirms the child is a Gifted, Estelle thought, turning her back on the retreating craft and eyeing the distant château.
“Check on the girl and see if any of the house staff are left after this debacle… if there are? Kill them,” Estelle hissed, walking back toward the château. “And you lot,” Estelle said, eyeing the few Council Agents with her. “Be about your tasks.”
Growling to herself, Estelle ground her teeth at the security lapse.
Their minds must have been conditioned, thought Estelle, which left only a few options as to who this Genevieve and her sons worked for.
Indeed, just who do you work for? Estelle wondered. It could be the Ellin twins, Dh’sah and Ilisa, or possibly the Ellin E’tara or her own sister, Catherin. Esta d’Ry’lin was another possibility, but that woman was as elusive as mist, and if it were possible more poisons than a spider. The first three names caused Estelle to shudder. They were all frighteningly powerful Gifted, and Esta was a woman Estelle had no desire to face. Even Estelle’s own sister, Catherin, brought a little thrill of fear.
Catherin has that gift, Estelle mused, following a long narrow path through the rows of grapevines, and I would not discount on her putting spies in my house.
But it was unlikely in her estimation.
“Ar’liana,” Estelle whispered, a contemptuous smile gracing her lips. Of them all, you were the best at that talent. If Jessica is one of yours, and I do not doubt that now, then you would indeed do anything to get her, Estelle thought, glancing at Jessica’s high windowed room on the upper floor. Which may just be, a good enough to reason request a stay of execution for the girl. The Council of Worlds would be very keen indeed to draw you out, old friend, and I suspect that was what they wanted all along.
With a disgusted snort, Estelle stepped onto the crushed stone path leading up to the doors of the château. The group mind that was The Council of Worlds, still demanded the girl mistreated to draw her siblings toward her, and then?
They wish you disposed of, Estelle thought, an odd pang of concern for the girl flashing in her mind. The girl’s treatment sat badly with Estelle, and it had proven a futile effort, but the group mind known simply as The Council knew only one thing.
Power and hate are all you know. As powerful as you are, you act little better than spiteful children.
Not that she would voice such an opinion to them. To do so would be fatal, yet that thought alone brought a troubled frown. The forced bond with the group’s mind felt less rigged and distinct than it ever had. Growling at her weak mindedness, Estelle hurried her pace into the château.
I need time away from the demands of The Council, and I need time to return to Britsamia and my Ana.
The thought of the dark-haired young woman she kept safe and hidden on that world brought a sense of calm to her as she stamped through the doors. Estelle knew keeping the girl masked and hidden from The Black Hand was a serious offence, but the girl provided a calm and completeness her damaged soul craved.
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***
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During the night, while she lay in darkness, Jessica turned the object around in her hands. There had been some sort of commotion in the late evening.
Probably drunk dinner guests, Jessica thought at the time and dismissed it, her attention held by the locket she found. She would swear to God that she could see it glowing faintly, and if she brushed it quickly with her hand, it would seem to brighten further.
“What are you?” Jessica whispered, yet no matter how she tried, Jessica could find no way to open it.
“Well, you are not a locket, no matter how much you resemble one,” Jessica whispered in the dark. The door lock rattling prompted Jessica to quickly pull the sheets up around her and hide the object between her legs. Swinging open to reveal Remy holding a lantern, Jessica’s heart pounded at the feral smile on his face. His sudden movement toward her prompted Jessica to unclip the clasp around her dagger and draw it slowly under the sheet.
“What are you doing in here?” Jessica snapped in what she hoped was a strong, commanding voice. Remy just laughed and took her chin in his hand. Jessica went rigid at the touch, then flashed the dagger at him, causing Remy to step back and the sheet to fall away. If she were not so frightened, Jessica would have been embarrassed at her sudden nakedness. In very unladylike fashion, she had taken to sleeping undressed to save her clothes, it being apparent she would not receive any of her belongings in a hurry, or at all, for that matter.
The man laughed and continued to retreat, hearing his brother’s voice calling him.
“You will be mine, little lady, I can assure you of that,” Remy crooned, and closed the door with a hungry smile. Long after the door closed, Jessica sat in darkness, tears staining her cheeks, heart pounding in her ears.
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***
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In the morning, much to her dismay, Jessica was given breakfast in her room with no explanation. The paltry meal dumped with little care by Marcel. Curling his lip at her, Marcel laughed when he left. The man frightened Jessica, and she felt very unsafe around him, but his brother terrified her.
What surprised Jessica was her hand on the hilt of her dagger under the sheets. The second surprise was the fact she still had it, Marcel or Remy, not having thought to take it away.
Pushing thoughts of the men from her mind, Jessica got up and quickly dressed. Armed with some of the stale bread and a cup of water, Jessica headed for the library to study.
Perched in a window alcove overlooking the ornamental pond, a book in one hand and a crust of bread in the other, Jessica flinched when the object suddenly grew warm against her chest.
It seemed to pulse with heat, then cool down. Taking it out, she almost dropped it, feeling like it had stung her. Laying it in her palm, she noted a distortion of the air around it, much like a heat haze seen at a distance on a high summer day. The shimmer distorted the air around the object in little ripples, like fingers falling away in all directions.
The sudden sound of the door lock opening caused Jessica to jump, and quickly hide the object in her dress, then pick up her book. Jessica’s heart sank when it was not Dion or Genevieve come to fetch her, but her aunt. By the look on Estelle’s face the woman was in a thunderous mood.
Nothing out of the ordinary there then, Jessica thought, a light smile touching her lips. Estelle’s eyes narrowed at her, prompting Jessica to quickly stand and curtsy.
“Good child, you are finally learning your place,” Estelle said, scanning the library with a disdainful look. “Horrid place. I should have disposed of it long ago,” she added with a dismissive wave of her hand. Jessica said nothing, keeping her face smooth of any emotion while Estelle regarded her with piercing eyes.
Please God, do not let her take me from this place and put me in a tiny room. I should go mad, Jessica internally pleaded making sure not to hold her aunt’s gaze too long.
Estelle simply snorted a disapproving sound and produced two letters, waving them at Jessica.
“One came regarding your tutelage in Paris,” continued Estelle with a cold smile. “You will not be going back, and you will remain here… as for the other I would have a word with you about child,” Estelle added, her smile becoming truly dark and eyes frosty. Jessica made the mistake of frowning at the letters to her and received a stinging slap for her efforts.
“What have I told you?” Estelle growled, holding her hand up, ready to strike Jessica again. Taking a deep breath, Jessica curtsied and apologized for her impertinence.
“That is better,” snapped Estelle, directing Jessica to leave the library.
Leading Jessica down through the maze of corridors to her study, Estelle bid her to sit on a leather couch placed to the side of her oak desk. The room, while not dark, felt unwelcoming to Jessica as she cast her eyes around the glass fronted shelves and paintings of nameless people.
“This letter is from your young woman friend in Paris. She asks too many questions… So, you will write to her and tell her you wish nothing of her, and she should consider herself forgotten,” Estelle said, waving it at Jessica. In reflection, Jessica was not sure why she reacted the way she did, but at that moment she felt something break inside.
In a calm and commanding voice, Jessica simple stood and said no, then walked out of the woman’s study. Moments later, Marcel dragged her back and dumped her on the floor, but she had drawn her line in the sand.
I will not be a victim for this evil woman any longer, Jessica thought, balling her fists as she stood. Snarling at Jessica, Estelle raised her hand to slap her, but Jessica simply growled at it and punched Estelle square in the face. The act would have shocked Jessica if she had time to think about it, never having lifted her hand to anyone.
Not bothering to watch Estelle topple to the floor, Jessica ran. When Marcel attempted to grab her, Jessica ducked, pulling her dagger from its scabbard and slashed him across the face. Ignoring his scream, Jessica fled the room, running for the dubious safety of the kitchens.
It was not long before she heard Marcel bellowing behind her as she ran through the corridors, seeking sanctuary with Genevieve. However, the locket felt like it was burning her nestled in her dress. With trembling hands, she fished it out and held it while she ran, trying not to drop her dagger.
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***
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Jessica’s heart sank when she saw Remy at the end of a corridor, leaning against the wall, waiting with a hungry smile. If Marcel frightened her, then Remy scared her senseless, having entered her room on the first night, pushing her up against the wall, forcing a kiss and unbuttoning her dress.
Only the appearance of his brother had stopped the man from going further. Jessica had no illusions of how this would end and she was not about to be raped by the man. With a predatory smile, Remy cackled at Jessica and almost casually pushed off the wall to walk toward her.
Pursing her lips, a look of grim determination on her face, Jessica began backing up the hall even though she could hear Marcel descending the stairs, bellowing for his brother to kill the bitch. Snorting at his brother’s demands, Remy continued his casual walk down the corridor.
“You are mine now, little lady,” Remy crooned with a smile that made Jessica’s legs feel weak.
Backing away, holding her dagger out at him, Jessica curled her lip in defiance, and flicked a glance at an open window. Yet moments later, Remy froze in place, a look of shock on his face, eyes fixed on the glowing locket swinging from its chain. With a worried frown, he called out to his brother.
“Marcel, she has a gate,” Remy shouted, a note of fear and wonder in his voice. Marcel just growled when he finally appeared at the entrance to the hall, blood running down his cheek and across his nose, where Jessica almost severed it.
“Nonsense, how could she? We searched all that she owned?” Marcel shouted, then cursed and spat blood. Growling in frustration at Marcel’s terse reply, Remy continued edging slowly toward Jessica.
“Stop moving, you halfwit she has a gate,” Remy all but shouted, pointing at the locket. Jessica frowned at the object and turned side on to the men. Glancing out the window, Jessica’s heart sank, noting the fall would be fatal.
“But does she know how to use it?” Remy said, a predatory smile lighting his face once again. Marcel just shook his head in disgust, and began to edge closer to Jessica, his eyes fixed on the glowing object.
“Come now, you little shit. Give me the gate and I will make what is coming quick, if not less painful,” Marcel growled, blood dribbling down his cheek and staining his shirt. Snarling at the hated pair, Jessica clutched the object in her hands, freezing both men in place.
“Put the gate down little lady, I will make sure Marcel does you no harm,” Remy crooned, a note of concern in his voice.
Jessica frowned at them both, opened her palm and touched the object with her finger. The motion caused the men to freeze in their advance, raising their hands in what they must have thought was a calming and friendly gesture.
They do not want me to touch it, Jessica thought, narrowing her eyes at the locket, mind racing.
“A gate...? Well you go through a gate, or do you open it?” Jessica growled at the thing, and ran her finger around the heart shape. The object was almost painfully hot in her hand now, the glow lighting up the dim corridor. On a whim, Jessica smiled at Remy and tapped the object twice in the middle, thinking to goad him…
And the world exploded into silver light.
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***
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Snarling at the empty space Jessica once occupied, Remy stamped up to Marcel and punched him in the stomach.
“You imbecile. She found it in the library. She must have. It is the only place I can think of and you let her go!” Remy screamed at Marcel, and hit him again. Coughing and dripping blood, Marcel backhanded Remy, sending him sprawling on the floor.
“Hit me again brother and I will split you open and feed you your own guts,” Marcel growled back, staggering a little. A shout from the end of the corridor and the appearance of Estelle silenced them both.
“You are both idiots! That has always been abundantly clear,” Estelle spat, marching up to Remy and kicking in the stomach. Smiling at Remy curling up in pain, Estelle spun around and slapped Marcel for good measure.
“There will be a reckoning if you do not undo this mistake, that I can assure you of,” continued Estelle in an icy voice, and made a disgusted sound at the two men. Rolling her eyes, Estelle took a similar device to Jessica’s from a bag made of some shiny metallic cloth and ran her fingers around the object, frowning at what she saw.
“I should never have agreed to find the little brats. It has been a costly distraction,” Estelle growled, and pursed her lips as she held the object out, noting the faint glow increasing.
“She has been wearing that gate for some time, and it is dangerously overcharged,” Estelle said, making a frustrated noise, “so it will take us some time to catch up.”
Beckoning at Remy and Marcel, Estelle gestured they should join her.
“Come, we must follow,” Estelle said in a flat voice, frowning at her brothers.
The vicious look on Marcel’s face and the hungry one on Remy’s, when they placed their hands on Estelle’s arm, drew a faint shudder of disgust at the men. Swatting away the feeling of revulsion, Estelle eyed them both and laughed.
“Whichever one of you gets her first, she is yours to do with as you wish, but you are not to kill her,” Estelle snapped, and snorted at Marcel’s disappointed look. Tapping her locket twice, Estelle and her brothers vanished with a pop and rush of air, leaving the corridor empty.
