ELLIS HUGHES LITERATURE
MY BOOKS:
BOOK NO.1
Just little snip-its though!
Weaver: A Silver Crown Chapter 1
Night had fully swept into the Silver Forest, the darkness thick and impenetrable as I mutedly entered and ran through a clearing of trees. It did not scare me, no, for the night was my friend, my ally in these lonely years, my eyes made to see through the black fog. Shadows and spider silk snagged on my skin in a hushed hiss as I darted past branches and leaves, my bare feet gentle on the soft undergrowth beneath, careful to avoid any stones or twigs that had fallen in the autumn breeze.
My immortal grace pushed me swiftly through the dense forest, my honed body dancing in the wind that pushed my scent northward. I was a weapon. A deadly one too, and a sly smirk played at the corners of my perpetually pouted lips, my elongated ears twitching to the sounds of the scuttling and whimpering of spiders, their fear coating my tongue. I didn’t stop to wipe the ridiculous look off of my face or feel the guilt that always gnawed at my soul over my predatory presence; didn’t stop as I heard the unearthly roar sound behind me, sending the ground beneath rumbling in its wake.
I smoothly halted, sliding my hand and then my body behind a dark oak tree. The tree groaned in protest; the forest already knew. I peeked out from around the trunk, my breathing slightly faltering when I glimpsed at the dark haired, pale faced men holding Aura's and freshly sharpened Sivilkan Blades shining in their glow, while they stormed out of their black holes in the side of huge grey-stone mountain. My home; or at least it had been my home... five minutes ago.
Running away seemed like a coward’s decision, perhaps fuelled by the foolish hope I had somehow been born with and let my soft heart nurture. And I had never considered myself for a fool. Not once. Not until it had happened. The thought didn’t sit well as I watched my father stalk into the ebony mist that clung to our beloved Silver Forest, his form hidden by the heavy canopy above, that even the hue of moonlight could not penetrate. Thank the Eight-Eyed Gods for my alchemy skills to help create night vision potions. I looked up to the leaves above me, rustling in time to the shouts and yells slithering through the forest. My heart beat was a wild thing in my chest as one foot poised into the forest ahead and one traitorous foot stuck firmly to the land of my brethren. I dared another glance from behind the tree.
My mother’s wan face was shadowed in the flickering Auralight as men and spiders alike crawled out of the gloomy tunnelling caverns, following my father’s barking of orders, their dark faces disappearing to the cover of leaves. She didn’t even look concerned, her brutally scarred face bored almost, disinterested as she looked onwards into the forest, as if she could hear the thrum of blood in my veins. But my brother did. His eyes flickered with raw emotion as he stepped forward, his mouth arched to call my name, except my mother stopped him. She clamped a callused hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough that I saw his wince as he strained against her hold. For him I would have stayed; for him I would come back. I silently swore it to the Gods as I turned away from my family; turned away from my brother, my one shining light in my life, even as my eyes blurred with tears from the Auralight burning behind. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
My heart was beating vigorously as I drew ever nearer to the edge of the Silver forest, a nocked arrow holding loosely in my obsidian Sivilkan bow, with the finest silken string you could get. My most valued possession. From beyond the edge I could see the sheen of dew covered spider silk in the rising sun, the sky a purpling, deep orange behind it. The shadows hissed at the light the closer it grew, twisting and bucking and moving in a way I had not seen it do since my journey to the border as a young child. I saw the light and hope that glimmered beyond that border, the light and hope that shined through the now loosening canopy, rays of sunshine piercing through the foliage above, the shadows crying where it singed.
I paused my running, knowing it was an impeccably stupid thing to do, especially as the clicking and yelling of men and spiders were still distant echoes a far cry behind. But I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t help my gaze as I stood before a ray of sunlight, dust swirling and sparkling in its beam. The dark oak trees and the leaves seemed to stop breathing, the entire forest silent when I tentatively held out my soft, pale creamy hand, my other straining to hold both bow and arrow in a position where it might be of use. I felt my golden hazel eyes glaze over and my lids flutter, the warmth of the sun finally heating my skin like it had once done in my dreams. The forest and I let out a collective sigh. No burning, no singeing, just pure, undiluted warmth and… light. My chest tightened and breathing became difficult. I had never seen the sun, no, for we were not born of the golden orb above, just unrelenting darkness and brutality – and blood, such, such blood.
Shaking my head free of all the lies that had cloaked me all the years I had spent nimbly balancing along fine threads of silk, ruining my body in training and yearning for the warmth and light of the sun – the sun that I would never see – I watched as the sweat that covered my entire body glistened in it. I didn’t dare step fully into it to feel the heat on my face, for if I did that, I may never leave this spot. And I had to leave this spot. I didn’t think my father and his men would pursue me this far, knowing that day would be coming soon, even if I was a strong contender to be heir, to put our family into nobility; to be sold for a hefty amount.
I pulled my hand away and a crevice yawned open in my stomach, but I forced myself to breath, to back away and move to the border, to find a hole in the wards. Fast. Time was ticking, the roars of my name on my father’s tongue closer. I should have feared that bellowing rumble, should have raced back home and slid to my knees to beg for forgiveness with all of my traitorous heart. And that’s what I was, wasn't I? A traitor to my kind; to my brother. But how could I stay in a court of liars and deceivers? We were so different he and I, and I think that perhaps what I felt for him was love, unconditional love, even if I was not made to feel such things. He was safe, a male in the court, living comfortably in the Threaded City and I… wasn’t. I was a female, trained only for the purpose of defending, never for battle, only for breeding and keeping the race alive. Yes, I knew how to fight, better than the rest of the girls my age and quicker and more wicked than many of the males. But the golden years were over. They had lied about everything – even the sun.
How could I expect anything more from the most cunning race in the realm of Vishet?
Exhaustion hit me hard when I prowled away from the sunlight and began to dash through the trees once again. East – just keeping heading east. I hit the edge of the border, the ward zinging my skin where I touched it; an invisible barrier, but deadly to our enemies if they ever tried to cross. Yelps and special guttural calls made to mimic the wildlife of our forest sounded nearer now, the crunch of leaves beneath heavy legs and boots too close for comfort. I suppressed my snort and set off into a sprint, my hand never faltering in my gliding along the ward, always feeling for weaknesses or holes. My father was a fool if he thought that I did not recognise the sounds of my own kind, sounds I had spent my life listening to and watching the male warriors learn to mimic, even if I had not been allowed to learn them myself.
My thoughts were too distracting, too spiralling in the frenzy of my hurried decision. Even though the decision felt more permanent and less rushed now, since I had been running for my life and freedom the entire night, my legs only just beginning to burn in protest. Only the Gods knew how many miles I had run – how many miles my father and his men had tracked me for, risking the day light. For my welfare, they will instil in me, into my addled brain from their tricks. For the good of our people, my father will say. Won't say, Anera, I chided. You will not be caught.
I forced myself to focus, to keep my legs moving and my lungs breathing and to ignore the sweat dampening my dark gear; ignore the bruises and cuts stinging and throbbing on my bare shoulders and arms beneath the fluttering cloak trailing behind me. I had not had enough time to prepare when the vicious hands of Pateen Terash had grappled me from the darkness as I was dazedly preparing for training. I hadn't even had time to put on my boots or shoulder pads when I'd gripped the dagger strapped around my thigh and stabbed him hard and deep too swift for recollection, his black blood a glorious slickness on my fingers. I'd licked it off of my blade as I crouched in front of his falling form and given a venomous smile before kicking him abruptly in the face, sure enough to break his already crooked nose. The ugly worm. He certainly deserved it for all he had done. And his blood tasted disgusting too, just like his paling, dying face. I didn't stick around to see if my assumption rung true.
Perhaps that was why my father was so furious. I'd killed my own betrothed and my own kind. Good, I thought, I'm done with this hell hole anyway.
The ward around our lands felt like a hard, cold stone wall, except it did slightly sting to touch. It had lumps and bumps and cracks, but they were never large enough for me to actually slip my slender form through, and I didn't have time to stop and try to break through with my father and his trackers so hot on my trail. I hadn't even been covering my tracks like a damn fool, nor had I washed off Pateen's blood, or my own. Even if the wind directed my scent in another direction, it would be hard for the lingering aroma of it on sharp thorns and branches that had snagged and sliced at my skin, or those that I had touched to keep myself upright, not to send the males into a killing-calm frenzy. Blood, blood, blood, our court was run on blood. That, and killing and shagging,
I'd just finished counting 6 miles when I heard it before I saw it. A sleek Sivilkan dagger with an obsidian pummel whizzed through the air from out of the shadows to my right. It thumped into the ward wall to my left, a hairs breadth from my face. I skidded to a halt, my hair and cloak flowing around me, struggling to stop itself from my sudden break in momentum. Blood welled on the end of nose and dripped onto my lips. I eyed the dagger before my face, my fresh blood shining where it had nicked the skin, my red blood mingling with the dried black blood already smothering it. Pateen's blood. I didn't give myself a moment’s thought as my eyes widened at the scent of his blood and my head whipped towards the shadows of the denser trees. I yanked my dagger free of the ward, it scraping as if on stone, and set myself low into a defensive crouch, ignoring the sounds of the ward splintering behind me from the fracture the dagger had manage to make. That was some strong throw, with some very impressive aim.
All I could afford to carry were my most valued possessions: my Sivilken bow and arrows, twin blades and hunting knife, along with a little satchel of gold the other courts and lands seem to use as currency. Nothing personal, nothing I particularly cared for. I was never allowed to keep possession of such meaning. Only those of practicality like what I'd packed into the deep pockets of my cloak: undergarments, clothes, fruit, gold and contraceptive tonic. Who knew what the males of other lands might be like – I'd certainly met some brutes from visiting courts. Not that they'd even be alive to even get that far but... semantics. Besides, I'd had enough of bloodshed for a life time.
Wasn't that an ironic thought?
I darted across the open clearing I was presiding in, seeking the cover of a wide tree. I sheathed my dagger, a small smile on the corners of my lips, happy to see it strapped back to my thigh. I'd chosen their designs and methods of creation; they all felt a part of me somehow. I let out a little contented hum, a lovely, jolly melody I had once heard played at a ball when entertaining the Needle Court. I even went so far as to let out a little hysterical cackle, whispering to the wind to send it in all directions. Let it confuse and frighten my prey, for I was not the hunted.
My hands were already on the pummels of my twin blades as I took a quick steadying breath before rapidly twirling around the edge of the tree trunk, my blades already deflecting two more whirling arrows and already poised to kill as I nimbly dodged a giant spider snapping it's fangs out of the shadows, as if appearing from nowhere at all. It had tried to grasp me, not poison, I duly noted as I pranced around it into the shadow, jumping and twisting my body to arch my twin blades to slice open the gut of the man sneaking up from behind (I use the term sneaking loosely). I flew through the air, his black blood spraying on me, hot and thick, and my body swung back around into the direction I had pushed it, turning back towards the spider. My left foot deftly landed first, taking the impact, and before my right even hit the ground, I angled my waist, throwing my arms wide around me, sending my blades flying and spinning and slicing the spider completely in two.
Black blood had gone everywhere, and from somewhere beyond, I heard a wail of torment from deep within the forest, miles away, like they actually gave a damn about the life of another lesser of our kind. Many of my kind savagely died fighting for their lives every day in The Trap. I didn't let the thought sink in as I hastily scanned the dense forest and made my move to hide the bodies and use their blood.
Grunting from the strain of carrying the spider up the dark oak, I hauled it high on my shoulders with one hand, using my other to drag myself up the tree, my nails breaking from the effort. Gods it would all just be easier if I could just shift.
The grunt I made echoed back to me on the breeze, the wind already my new enemy. I shouldn’t have let myself utter a single sound; shouldn’t have let myself potentially give away my position. Anyone could've heard of it, especially when the trees and shadows liked to gossip and send messages of betrayal. Some were friends and some were, I’d learned over the years, incredibly good spies – when they wanted to be, and perhaps they were cruel enough to want to be that now, too.
I quickly slicked my hands with their black, copper tasting blood and promptly vanished into the shadows, going in every direction, purposely gliding my covered hands on the trunks of trees. What an interesting, chaotic adventure I had in mind for my dearest father and his minions. And I had even delayed my search for holes in the ward all for him too! Oh how delightful it would've been to watch them stumble and frolic as I let them unravel the riddle of a maze I'd created; let them find the dead bodies of our kind wrapped thoroughly and hanging and dripping from the canopy. Was it even our kind any more? I no longer felt sure.
The autumn breeze was hauntingly whistling through the forest harder and harder and – Gods it was absolutely freezing! I had begun to strip myself off complete to the skin, shrugging off the heavy with sweat and blood training gear. It was a damn shame that the closest stream I knew of the Silver Forest was miles away – if I had guessed my coordinates correctly. But I simply didn't have time to make a detour to wash the grub and blood off of my slim figure and golden, mousey brown hair, braided back for practicality. I had stalled long enough; I certainly hadn't planned for my escape to take this long.
I hastily shoved on black stretchy and tight fitting trousers that went just past the knee, a dark grey cotton shirt – tucked in of course – with a figure hugging black leather tunic. Little flat black silk slippers that tied up around the ankle finished the look. All small and light weighted; all easy to fit into the pockets of my fur lined cloak, which I covered myself with last, making sure to strap all of my weapons back onto me. I straightened up from buckling my thigh weapons holder and rolled my shoulders. Time to get the hell out of this place.
Going back to where the dagger had fractured the wall would perhaps be a silly mistake... but it was a mistake I was a desperate fool enough to make. I knew those hunting me would be sniffing around that area and it was a bit of a trek back from where I'd sprinted back on myself to dump my stinking clothes. But I had to break through that border, even if no one from these parts of our lands ever had before.
MY BOOKS:
BOOK NO.2
Another little snip-it!
The Brewer's of Earth: Elysian Secrets Chapter 1
“Danny, Danny Legro.” The ash blonde, green eyed, smudge of annoyance boy spits at me while I fluster around with the list of names and classes on my table. This guy has to be a fake; I can’t see him on these lists anywhere. I shiver slightly as the cool London summer breeze ruffles the tassels of my black Charleston dress, and the feather atop my head. Dusk had come around far too quickly for my liking; especially since someone bailed last minute and I got roped into this mess.
Poor guy, I think as I scan the final list of names. His Superman outfit is cute too.
“Uhm... Sorry Don–“
“Danny.” He mumbles through gritted teeth.
“Right. Danny, I can’t seem to find you. Are you sure you’re class B2? Not trying to gate crash are we?” I raise my eyebrow at him and offer a little amused smirk. He doesn’t take the bait. Pity.
“Danny Legro, B2, do I need to spell it out for you?” Asshole. I cross my arms and sit back in my chair, eyebrows raised, my glare never faltering. We stay this way a few moments more before his times up for an apology.
“Next.” The bored bluntness juxtaposing my sharp tone.
“Y-you can’t do that! I'm the last one here!” he stammers furiously, slamming his hand on the table which in turn earns stares and gawks from the drunken soon-to-be university students lurking about. Before he can cause more fuss, I lean in close, close enough to feel his hot, sickly breath on my face.
“Next.” I hiss at him, the vehemence pouring out my voice. He stalks off, throwing his hands up in exasperation and shouting at the smoking party goers to not talk to me. Eddie Wiley – my best friend – sniggers behind me.
“I kind of feel bad for the guy, he was the last one in line.” He says with obvious mirth, standing beside me in his cliché Batman outfit, which I think I'd seen at least 3 times already. So unoriginal Eddie! I shake my head.
“Yeah, well, I feel sorry for his parents. What a dick.” I turn towards Arya Calder’s house, my other best friend, and rub my temples. Eddie grabs my hand and goes to pull me inside but I resist. “I don’t wanna.” I mock pout, flashing him my puppy dog eyes. “I’ve been the bouncer for this party all evening, I think I’m tired, might go hit the hay.” I tease, knowing he’ll hate me forever if I leave the ‘party of the year’.
“You won’t be saying that once I’ve got some shots in you.” He laughs, pulling me towards the large Notting Hill house. I mock gasp at him.
“Me? Why, Eddie Wiley, I’ve never had a drink in my life!” I chuckle at him, opening the front door, my bad mood finally sobering up a little. Eddie starts to usher me into a crowd when I hear an articulate, deep voice sound behind me.
“Excuse me, Lily, is it? Lily Arlyn?”
“Yes?” I slowly twist around to see a tall, slim but muscular figure in front of my little table, my long silver hair twirling around me. “Can I help?”
“Uhm, yeah, I’m a bit late for Arya’s party.” He states, almost nervously. No alcohol in this one. I move back toward the list on the table, a list where I’ve already ticked off most of the names. I frown, suspicious. Please not another one.
“Name and class please.” I look up at him and find his dark, almost black eyes watching me, mirroring my own dark brown ones, with his head cocked to the side like a cat watching its prey. Wow is the only coherent word my mind formulates. He was gorgeous in a subtle, intelligent looking kind of way. His dark black curly hair gelled perfectly in place to look like contained mess with his slight black stubble and his all black clothes adorned by a long black cloak with a hood.
“You’re gawking, Lil.” Eddie murmurs from behind irritably. I jump at the sound of his voice, flinching away from the boy’s alluring gaze. He clears his throat.
“Oh! Right! Yes, your name, what is it? Your class too.” I stumble over my words. Idiot, idiot, idiot! I resist the urge to slap my forehead.
“Like I said, Kearn Winterflood, C2.” He says, amusement tingeing his tone and flashing across his eyes. A secret arrogant. I didn't recall his name at all, even from my lists.
"C2 you say? I don't ever remember seeing you around at college, or well, anywhere actually." My attempt at small talk was awful and I knew it. Arya would be ashamed if she could see this failing sight. I scan the last page of names, and miraculously, I see his, right by the bottom with all the W's. Kearn Winterflood, C2, how interesting. I tick next to his name and lean back up, back up to his watchful eyes. They rake once over my body and I push down my snort. Typical. His eyes linger on mine once more before he saunters past me, his shoulder brushing mine. The touch of him through his cloak burns.
“Nice outfit by the way, 1950's?” he calls over his shoulder, glancing back at me as his hand reaches for the door. Although his tone isn’t mocking, his eyes implied otherwise. I squint at him slightly. Those eyes...
“Yeah, at least someone knows.” I manage to grit out, my hand moving towards the shoulder he had touched. His eyes flicker to that hand. “What are you, a rogue?” I asked, genuinely curious to his costume. His roguish grin confirms as much.
“You could say that.” He almost whispers huskily, his head to the side. His eyes linger one more long moment before I am left staring at the door in his wake. Kearn Winterflood.
“Hello? Earth to Lily?” I could hear the obvious scowl in his voice. “Let's go already, the smell of smoke out here reminds me too much of my Grandpa. Bloody ol' bastard he was.” I shake my head, coming back down.
“You shouldn't speak ill of the dead Ed.” I murmur. Yes, party, Arya's party for finally finishing college and beginning a new chapter. Whatever that was. I let Eddie lead me inside where I'm thrown into the swirling throng of people.
People were everywhere. Crowds dancing, people kissing, shots and shouting and laughing into the darkness. Loud house music vibrated through the air like electric, pulsing into the very marrow of my bones. I didn't even want to know what was thumping upstairs. I suppress a shudder. I try and push my way through the faces of all my class mates over the many years of school and college, in an attempt to reach Arya; I knew exactly where she'd be. Eddie was already on the case for getting my favourite drink and probably a shot too. Cheeky sod – how he loved me for my hilarity when drunk. I finally manage to waggle my way through to the outskirts, precariously avoiding pushing over a silly drunk girl dancing with her friend, faces a vaguely recalled.
I reach the large open space living room that connected to the dining room and kitchen, with large white doors leading to the back garden and hot tub. Everything was mainly white, with splashes of greys and blues here and there. The windows were big with white billowing curtains and loitered around were people making drinks and just generally chatting and listening to the music. The house was pretty large as we lived in a rather ‘rich’ part of London. Who knows what our parents really did to have such wealth. Fairy lights, ones I helped Arya put up, were hung around in attempt for some lighting as the darkness wasn't always the best idea. We had tried to move the furniture as best we could, to create more space, but it still felt full in here to me. Luckily, the main attraction seemed to be the entrance and the stairs and the hot tub. Of course, I think. If Arya's parents hadn't gone away with my Dad and step mum and Eddie's parents too, then we wouldn't even be alive. I snort at the thought. They're not due home until late tomorrow morning, hopefully clean up won't be too bad. Touch wood.
I look towards the large grey sofa in the corner of the room, in front of a large window and next to the TV, I spot my target. Aha! I knew it.
“Arya can you stop sucking Ben's face for a minute please and come have a drink with me!” I exclaim to my dearest friend, clearly tipsy and very much in love with Ben Addler, again. I hide my eye roll as I cross my arms. Arya jumps up, away and off of Ben's lap, her long black silky hair – albeit a bit ruffled – in a pony tail bopping. Startled, she whips around at the interruption, her face like venom. It softens when it sees me. My friend was beautiful, stunning really. She was tall, slim, dark haired with bright hazel eyes, olive skinned with a slender pretty face. Much unlike my fairly average height, round cute face, button nose and rather large dark eyes, these stood out the most to my abnormally white parchment hair. I was okay, beautiful maybe, perhaps pretty. Some had said I was hot, for a nerd. But not stunning, not to me. She also had a green vine tattoo that glimmered in the fairy light, accenting her white Charleston dress. We wanted to at least coordinate each other. I stood there, feet aching already in my black stiletto's, as she stagger towards me and put her weight on my small frame, and kisses my cheek dramatically. Her eyes were glazed slightly and her cheeks rose from the kissing.
“Oh Lil! Where have you been? I've missed you! Me and Ben were talking about you, saying how grumpy you've been today. Isn't that right Ben?” She pouts, turning back towards Ben who looked nothing more than like he wanted to escape, if not to catch my wrath. I raise an eyebrow at her.
“How much have you drunk Ary?” I ask, pointedly shifting my eyes from her face to Ben's retreating silhouette. Figures.
“Oh not enough, we haven't even had a drink together yet! Come on, let's dance! I saved one for you.” Arya pounced away, towards the crowd of dancers, pulling me along with her. This time I didn't resist.
Before I knew it, I was well and truly wobbly. I'd done enough apple Sourz shots and drunk enough lemonade and vodka that I was not only staggering around, I was bouncing off of the walls from the sugar. Arya twirled me around, spinning me to face Eddie, who picked me up and spun me to the music. Our friends joined us and we all celebrated together for what was and what will be, until Arya left for the toilet when a slower song came on and Eddie and I were left dancing in circles, my cheek resting on his shoulder.
“Hey Lil?” he looks down at me, his breath moving my hair and the feather attached to it.
“Yeah?” I look up at him. He is handsome I suppose, and my dearest, truest friend. He had his golden brown hair natural and short, and green eyes that had a mischievous sparkle to them as they shone in the dim fairy light. He was tall too, and not without muscle. His face was squarish, his jaw line emphasised by the growing stubble he always seemed to have nowadays. Yes, I suppose he was quite good looking, but not quite Kearn Winterflood. I shivere at his memory. I hadn't seen him once now that I thought about it. Perhaps he was the one thumping upstairs. An irrational twinge of jealousy ached within me.
“You're sure you want to go to uni?” he asks sincerely, his eyes shining from the sugar and alcohol. My pace slows as I think. Did I want to go to university? It seemed like my only option really.
“Yeah, I think so, I'm not sure really if I'm honest with you Ed.” I slur and stumble slightly. “Why, don't you? What else would we do?” I looked up into his face, focusing on the crease between his eyebrows, the lines of his forehead forming a frown. But then it softened, and his mouth became a straighter line.
“An adventure.” His eyes gleam as he spun me, and I laugh.
“An adventure? You truly are drun– “ I stop dead in my tracks. There he was – coming in through the back door with his black cloak making him barely visibly in the discernible light.
“Lil? What is it?” Eddie cranes his neck around, searching for my source of distraction. I rest my cheek back on his shoulder and watch Kearn from it.
“Nothing, I just thought I saw someone.” Someone indeed.
We stood in a dancing crowd at the end of the living room and there was a considerable distance to travel if I were to try and get to him. I can make it, I pep talk myself. Just as I went to pull away from Eddie's embrace, Arya was in my line of sight, waving a bottle of rum in my face. Oh no, I inwardly groaned.
“Oh we are so not done!” she exclaims delightedly, looking pleased at her find, probably from her parents' bedroom. No more drink. I yawn at her and her lower lip sticks out morosely. Eager to see more, I began peering over Arya's shoulder on tiptoes, (I ditched my high heels a while ago), I spot Kearn sweeping his gaze across the crowd of dancers and move back to the door he'd come from. His eyes met mine briefly, as if he’d sensed me watching, with a sort of shining sadness flashing across them, but then they hardened and the moment was gone. A long slither of silver and red glinting in the faint light caught my eyes attention, and like the sorrow in his eyes, he vanished into the night. My own eyes widen slightly, surprised by the peculiar sight. He has a fake weapon? My addled brain churned to comprehend. I frown inquisitively, moving past Arya towards the way he’d gone. His departure yearned for me, and that’s when I saw her – that’s when the screaming began.
The darkness had come back for me, as it always said it would. I had dreamed fitfully every night ever since it happened. I stood in the misty abyss where vision eluded me, but I knew it would come back – soon. I began my usual floundering, shuffling forwards into the void that surrounds me. The image felt blurred, like I was there, watching myself, but I was also living it too. My heart rate picked up and fear and panic lanced through me, sending a dagger of cold spiking through my chest. My breath was scarce as my pace quickened, surging into the ebony that was the night. I willed my limbs to run, to get away, I knew they were coming, they'd be here soon, the shadows never faltered. But I did as I turned back, looking behind me in my frantic sprint towards anyone, towards anything. Glowing amber eyes met my vision and the hair on my arms and neck stood on end. The black mist swirled around my legs and I craned my head around once more. Foolish insufferable girl! My body slammed into a wall of flesh and I yelped but no sound came out. It never did in this place. It was him. Kearn Winterflood. My eyes widened in fear as he stood before me. I stumbled backwards in attempt to get away but I hit a wall and slammed my head, sliding down to the floor. Kearn simply watched me with his almost black eyes. Always watching, always waiting. He wore his cloak, but his hood was down and he had a long thin silver dagger with a black glittering gem in the pummel. It glistened with blood. He stepped towards me and I squirmed away, feeling him kneel down and breath on my neck. He slashed at my palms first.
“Touched by shadow.” He murmured at me. I flinched at the sound of his voice. It was almost obtrusive in the silence. I turned my face to look him defiantly in the eye, he smiled faintly. “Showered by Elune.” His hand reached out tentatively. I flinched as his hand stroked my spider silk hair that radiated in the darkness. “Kissed by Naturae.” He pulled me close and my heart beat quickened further. I felt his breath on my nose and then on my lips, just before he pressed his mouth to mine in a gentle kiss.
I awoke in a cold sweat, my eyes flying open at his touch. The dream had never gone that way before. What an asshole! My mind exclaims as I nestle back down to my pillows, arms crossed and frowning like a child. He scares the crap out of me and then he kisses me! Mixed signals, I tut to myself and sigh. My dreams, or well, nightmares really, were exceptionally vivid and it scared the hell out of me. What a load of bull. I huff forlornly and scrub at my face with sweaty palms, smudging my day old eye liner and mascara. I hated taking it off before bed, it was such an effort when one fell asleep reading every night. I groaned as the memories of the last two weeks all came tumbling back to me. Sleep wasn't even an escape any more. I sat up groggily, trying to shake away the panic I'd awoken from. Sliding out of my bed and peeling off my white bed shirt and underwear, I made a move towards my bathroom in the hazy morning light, to where my shower called to me.
It had been two weeks since it happened and just a day before my 18th Birthday, things had finally seemed to calm down. A young girl of 18 was killed at Arya's party, the police were called, and that was all I knew. It was the beginning of July and the British summer was in full effect it seemed. I'd seen Arya and Eddie every day since the party, but we had had a lot of explaining to do. Arya was morose that her social life had gone to shambles since it happened at her house. Nothing was anyone's fault; no one was at liability of course. Bad things happen unfortunately, especially the fact that our parents were none too pleased and everyone had been particularly sombre since, naturally. After lots of witness statements and interviews with the police, they'd seemed to just disappear, and life was resuming as usual. Except for my plagued dreams. Except for the girl that had died.
I ponder over it all in the shower as I hastily scrub away the nightmares and the sweat that seemed to cloak me in the night. My dreams had been haunted since the party; they hadn't disappeared with all the questions. Everything had been a blur since it had happened too. I didn’t know who the girl was, I didn’t remember her, but I did remember her body and the glisten of blood and how over time, it had glistened no longer. Perhaps like the lives of those around us. My dreams were full of shadows and darkness, amber eyes and the sheen of silver and crimson. Was it him that did it? Perhaps I should've told someone, but something deep and dormant within told me I definitely shouldn't. These were thoughts to keep to myself, or perhaps it was knowledge.
~~~~~
Before I knew it, the morning had flown by and I had productively done nothing. Unless waiting for my hair to dry while sitting in the sun at my large open window and reading counted as productive. I closed the book I was reading, placing it in my lap, pondering things to do. Cleaning my room seemed like an option. But it was rather big and everything was mainly white, with hints of colour here and there, so it mostly looked clean and tidy anyway. I kept it as organised as I could, but papers seemed to gather around the piano by the window, as did stacks of books and drawings around my bed in the corner of the room.
Out of the window, I could see children playing in the summer sun, savouring in the Saturday freedom as their parents warily looked on, ushering them towards the park and away from the roads. Trees sway in the breeze beyond the glass and peering below full blossomed branches outside of my house, I could just about see Eddie’s bedroom window, directly opposite my own. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t see him sitting at his, as I so often had as a child; Eddie’s summer spot was on the grass, under the tree in front of his house with his nose in a book. I’d teased him when we were younger, claiming he looked cliché and that I saw passers-by's eye him oddly. His reply was always the same: that he found it more relaxing. I could never understand how the busy London streets could ever be remotely near it, but perhaps it was better than getting pasty inside. I shifted my gaze to the trunk of his tree, but it wasn’t Eddie I saw leaning against it. It wasn't Eddie's eyes that met mine, but dark ones instead.
I pull my thick black rimmed glasses away from my face and rub the sweat that had gathered on the bridge of my nose, then move to my itching eye lids, careful to not smudge my eye liner. This is why I wear contacts. Moving away from the window, towards my bedroom door, I shake my head, frowning and alarmed. I'm going insane. My breathing hastened, as did my moving feet. I rush through my open door, popping my glasses back on and tying my hair up in a sagged pony tail as I swiftly glide down the hall way. My loose denim jeans rub at my warm thighs as I bounce down the spiral wooden stairs, my baggy white shirt swaying behind me in the rushed breeze I created.
“Dad, I'm going out.” I yell, passing through the kitchen quickly, grabbing my little black purse from the centre isle. No response, guess he’s out.
I hurry through the living room, spotting Cassie – my white, American short-haired cat – eyeing me pointedly from her spot in the sun on the window seal. I walk over to her and scrub at her head, squinting out the window. He's gone. I scowl, my mouth becoming a distinguishable downward arch. Sighing, I turn towards the font door anyway and bump into a moving woman's body. I yelp, my heart rate spiking. Jumping back, startled, seeing the frowning face of my step mother glaring at me, her smoothie spilt slightly onto her top. She looks down at the splodge of pink mess on her yellow blouse and tuts, then gives a defeated sigh.
“Well, there's goes my new blouse eh? What's got you so jumpy?” She walks off towards the kitchen, probably in search of a damp cloth.
“Ah, Olive I'm sorry, you startled me.” I meant it too.
“Where’re you off to sweet pea? Eddie?” Dabbing her blouse, she gazes up at me, her eyes full of knowing.
“Uhm, yeah, kinda. I thought I saw someone I knew by his house – thought I'd say hi.” Not mentioning that I'd dreamed of him every night, that he was the reason I couldn't sleep any more, and that he'd already somehow vanished. Not mentioning that he was watching me through my window. That's creepy as hell Lil. She smiles warmly at me, as she always did, her pixie shaped face flushed from the rare summer heat.
Olive was a lovely looking lady, who had definitely aged well over the years. She liked to keep her brunette hair chopped short and rarely was without make up. Her nose was fairly small, her lips thin and her light brown eyes showed the grains and creases of time. I'd never really known my mum, she'd died when I was 4 years old. Sometimes I catch glimpses of memory of her, fragments of images and sounds come to me in dreams, but never enough to be coherent. No, Olive was more like a mother really; my dad had met her when I was 9 and they'd married one year later. She'd lived with us since and we'd never really clashed. Her and my dad had only ever broken up once, and it was the worst year of my life. My dad – Michael Arlyn – went away a lot on business, he was very important to some law firm and it required a considerable amount of travel. Olive and I would spend the days and evenings cooking together, watching films, playing with my silk hair. Sometimes she'd even play piano with me, and those evenings were always the best. I zoned back into the conversation I appeared to be missing.
“–he should be back around 5pm I think and I thought I'd cook some salmon for tea, if you'd like. Oh and if you're going out do you need any money, darling?” pausing in her blouse washing, she looks up at me expectantly, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, uhm, no I have some and I've got my Oyster card on me so I should be fine.” I turn back around, heading towards the living room, to the front door. To Kearn.
“Okay dear, have fun.” I hear the back door open as she calls out to me. “Did you want the salmon Lil? Or shall I save it for a special 18th Birthday champagne breakfast in the morning?” I look over my shoulder at her, a slight smile on my face. She smiles back at me, already knowing the answer.
“Breakfast of course.” She nods, content with the plans we'd made.
“Of course.” The back door sounded and I put on my sandals at the front door, shoving my keys into my bag. I open the door, letting in a cool summer breeze, and find Kearn Winterflood's face a breadth away from mine.
“Hi.” Is all I manage to finally stammer out as I jump back. His unrelenting gaze never falters as he calmly leans against my door frame, in dark blue shorts, a white loose T-Shirt and black sandals. I, on the other hand, can only gape. Stop being a blasted idiot! I force myself to close my jaw and decrease the stupid, startled stare on my face, just a little bit.
“Hi.” His voice as deep and articulate as I remember. He gives me a welcoming smile – like it was his house – that just about reaches his eyes, and exhales a long breath. An awkward silence hangs dejectedly between us. He clears his throat. “I, uhm,” looking down, he laughs through his nose to himself, before looking up at the sky and stretching out his chest. “Ahhhh, wow, this is going to sound weird.” His eyes move back to mine. “I was... Waiting here. For you?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I raise an eyebrow at him, struggling to hide my small, bemused smile.
“Telling you?” he nervously put his hands in his pockets, moving his body to gesture behind him. “Take a walk with me.” He demands. How did he even know where I live?
“You got your questions the wrong way round there.” I move beside him, shutting my door behind me, careful to avoid his eyes. He takes up a leisurely walk down the road, towards the park, as the sun beats down on our silence. “Soooo...” I offer, he doesn't take it. “You were, uh, waiting for me?” I manage to get out.
“Yeah, about that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. I was honestly just walking down this street when I looked up and saw you at your window, reading.” He gave nothing more.
“And?”
“And what? That's all.” He looks down at me, pausing in his walk, a question in his eyes. He was so gorgeous that it was almost unfair. I stop with him, angling myself towards him slightly and find myself unable to offer explanation. “Do you want there to be more?” He smiles arrogantly, clearly taking sadistic delight in my discomfort.
“How about that little part where you stood outside my door?” I ask, perhaps a bit too sharply. I'm not mesmerised enough to be stupid. My eyes squint in suspicion. Does he know I saw something?
“Oh, that, well,” he starts to walk again, scowling, as if struggling to come to terms with his answer. “I was building up the courage to knock.” I don't suppress my snort. How sappy indeed! “Hey! Don't laugh. That was a statement in confidence.” He puts his hand over his heart mockingly. I push my slipping glasses up my nose and look down towards the ground, smiling slightly. Confidence, more like arrogance, I say to myself while suppressing an eye roll. “No, I'm not that much of an arrogant asshole.” This time I openly chuckle, unable to help myself.
“Why, Kearn Winterflood, class C2, how did you know?”
“I know my way around a woman– “
“I bet you do!” I cackle out before he can finish.
“I was going to say a woman's mind. Do I hear jealousy?” He playfully asks, softly chuckling, amusement flashing his eyes.
“Wouldn't you like to know.” I smirk, my tone light hearted.
“Are you one of those?”
“One of what? A woman? I should certainly hope so.”
“No! One of those people who delights in others pain.” He twists around to walk backwards in front of me, making sure he looks directly at my expression.
“Pain? No boy has ever quite said I've brought him pain before...” I trail off, letting him think the rest. His playful grin confirms his thoughts, his eyes sparkling devilishly.
“I like your glasses by the way. They suit you.” He smiles at me, eyeing me head to toe, and landing back on my face. I laugh lightly, it shaking with nerves.
“I like you in another colour that isn't black.” I state bravely. He snorts at me.
“Come to Regent's Park with me. I'll buy you some ice cream.” He asks after a long pause of silence. I ponder it; I had nothing better to do and I wanted answers.
“And, do pray tell, why would I do that?” I ask to keep him in suspense.
“Because you have questions and I have answers, Lily Arlyn, class B2.” That was answer enough for me.
~~~
After a hot, stuffy – and particularly close bodied – journey on the District and Circle lines, we arrived in Regents park, where it was blooming with people. Londoner's walking their dogs, cycling, playing rounders or just sunbathing, enjoying the heat while it lasted. Kearn immediately offered to go to a little shop nearby and grab us some drinks and ice cream, which I greedily and thirstily accepted. Why didn't I eat anything today? I peer around for a nice spot in the shade and eventually spot a little remote place under the protection of a willow tree. Perfect. I waltzed over and sat on the grass, wishing I'd come more prepared with a blanket and some sandwiches. I lean back, cooling off in the shade and begin to people watch – the best passing of time when it was too bright to see your phone screen.
I was about to get up and look for Kearn, as he was taking a while, when I spotted Arya, running out from the trees and Eddie trailing behind her. They appeared to have water balloons in their hands, Eddie was topless and Arya in a bikini top. I push down on the throb of hurt that spasms within me. Thanks for the invite. I watch them chase each other, Arya's smile glowing in the sun, Eddie's eyes sparkling mischievously; they almost didn't look real in the haze of heat. I stand up abruptly, suddenly angry and wanting to confront them. As I start to walk away, Kearn steps in front of me, cans of drinks in his pockets and ice cream in each hand.
“Sorry I took so long, the queue was insane.” He moves towards the trunk of the tree, sits down and leans against it. He holds out the chocolate ice cream to me, a question in his eyes. “Where were you going?” My bad mood must have shown on my face, because he stretches the ice cream out further and offers an almost sympathetic smile. “What's wrong?” I take the ice cream and sit next to him. He moves a little closer, leaning in, as if to not miss a word I say. This guy is smooth.
“I saw Eddie and Arya – my friends – that's all. I guess I was just a bit hurt they didn't invite me.” It stung to say. A flush crept up into my cheeks. I felt silly, why should I care, as long as they were enjoying themselves, right? And why was I telling him all of this?
“Well,” he says with a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, “You're here with me now.” He gulps it down greedily. I look back over in the direction I'd seen them, but they were already gone, as if they were never there at all. My head started to spin.
“Yeah, true.” I frown. What were we talking about again? I take a big bite out of my ice cream, savouring the cold, rich flavour of the chocolate. “So, at the party,” I swallow my spoonful, “I barely saw you. You disappeared. And you were in class C2, how come I never saw you? And how did you get to know Arya? What did you study?” I felt like I was firing too many questions his way, but I was eager to know. I turn my head to the side, looking up at him. He reaches over with a hand and uses his thumb to rub the crease of my forehead. This guy makes no sense.
“You frown a lot, you know.” His eyes give way nothing.
“That doesn't answer my questions.”
“I did a BTEC in IT and Computing, so that's probably why you never saw me.” He began and pulled out his can of drink as well as offering me mine. I take it and we open them in synchronization. “Who doesn't know Arya Calder? She invited our whole year group pretty much.” He squints at the sun, staring off towards the people playing rounders, their happy, laughing faces shining in the sun. “I was with a few friends of mine from my IT class on the night of the party. We mostly stayed in the garden, where, you know, people weren't grinding on each other.” Something flashes in his eyes, but I can’t quite make it out. I look towards the people playing fetch with their dogs and let my mind wonder, as did his.
“So no having fun upstairs then?” I ask light heartedly, my voice quiet to not intrude the peaceful quiet. He laughs faintly, a sound I am truly captivated by, and soon find myself laughing with him. He bumps my shoulder gently and we look at each other.
“No, no fun upstairs.” He says softly, his voice husky as it had been the night we'd met. His face was so close. But did he do it? I recoil away a morsel, but it's enough for him to notice. He moves away from me; the once open, contented expression on his face hardening, darkening a shade. A surge of guilt rips through me. I shouldn’t feel this way. As if sensing my thoughts and change atmosphere, he stands up and stretches out, tipping back the last of his drink.
“How did you know my name? Why was you walking down my road?” I ask, inquisition taking over.
“I'd spoken to Arya briefly when she gave me the invitation. I'd complimented how beautiful they were. She'd said it was designed by her best friend, Lily Calder.” He finishes, offering me his hand. I take it and let him pull me up. I wobble but he doesn't notice. I don't feel so good. “And, I live two roads up from you; I was just walking to the park.” How have I not seen you before? Weird things were happening to me lately. My silence confirmed to him I was done.
“Come, let’s go and see if we can find some water balloons or something, shall we?” So we did, but not before I vomited – all over him.