Martyr
“No!” Jacob ran to her and caught Kat before she hit the ground. He met Lakyn’s eyes. He had stayed, watching like a sadistic serial killer coming back to the scene of his crime.
“Why?” he asked.
“She wanted this, she wanted to be the martyr,” said Lakyn. Then he turned and began walking towards his men, but Jacob’s voice kept him near.
“You can redeem yourself, you can heal her,” Jacob pleaded. Dyston put his hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. He stood behind her where she was kneeling in the dirt. She refused to take her eyes off her friend who lay dying.
“What’s done is done,” said Lakyn. “Put down your weapons,” he instructed, and his soldiers obeyed.
“This is not over,” sobbed Jacob.
“No, it’s not,” Lakyn smirked, and then took to the sky.
Kat moaned. It was the worst sound Scarlett had ever heard. She wanted to do something, but she couldn’t move. It was all her fault.
“Shh. Don’t move. It’ll be over soon.” Jacob stroked her hair, his tears blended with her blood.
“Ja-cob,” she choked.
“Don’t speak.” Jacob kissed her head, and then lifted her and carried her inside.
“Bring her this way,” said Professor Anna. Father Luke led Jacob and the rest of the students down a corridor and into an open, white room that smelled of bleach and other chemicals.
“Can you heal her?” Jacob asked.
“Tear Tip injuries are quite serious. I will do my best,” Father Luke told them. Scarlett had managed to follow, but she was still in shock. She felt a familiar touch against her hand.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if she dies.”
“Her soul will go back to The Realm of Fire, you know that.”
“I know but…”
“Can I please have some space to work on this young Nephilim?” asked Father Luke.
“Come on,” said Dyston, tugging lightly on Scarlett’s hand.
“No, I can’t leave her.”
“Jacob will be with her.”
Scarlett reluctantly let Dyston take her away from the horrible scene in front of them, leaving Jacob and Father Luke to stay with Kat.
“It’s not your fault,” said Dyston once they were back in the corridor.
“It is. It’s all my fault.”
“Please don’t burden yourself with this. It’s a heavy weight to bear.”
“What do you know about burdens?” she snapped, and quickly regretted it. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know, because I’ve lived with one all my life,” he told her. She met his eyes. Scarlett knew that Dyston struggled with his decision every day. He had rebelled and fallen for her, and in return, his wings were made black. He’d been made a reject of The Realms ever since. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. There was still a lot more that Scarlett didn’t know about him. She was so consumed in her thoughts that she hadn’t realised that Dyston had led her back to her guest room. He opened the door and locked it once they were inside.
“What are we doing?” she asked curiously.
“We haven’t been alone since… well, a while.” He took off his black trench coat and hung it over the back of a chair. Scarlett never wore a jacket because her temperature ran hotter than everyone else’s. She fumbled with the gold locket around her neck, the only thing that she had left from Blackbell. Dyston walked forward and grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest.
“It is not your fault.”
“You don’t understand what they did to me. It is my fault.”
“What do you mean, what they did to you?”
“When I was taken to the Realm, they…” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.
“You can tell me,” he said, stroking her hair.
“They drained me of my blood, and they tried to kill me.”
“I know, but who did this?”
“A demon. She was working for Lakyn.” Dyston clenched and unclenched his jaw. She could tell he was holding back his anger for her.
“Did they say what they wanted it for?”
“No, just that my blood has different properties.” She could still feel that he was tense. She reached out to put a hand on his face, but he flinched from her touch. “Dyston?”
“I’m going to stop them. I’ll get your blood back,” he said.
“You can’t get my blood back. Don’t worry, I have more.”
“No, you don’t understand. They’re going to exploit you, poke you, and prod you like a lab rat.”
“They’ve already done that, Dyston.”
“Well, I’m going to put an end to it.”
“Okay, but not right this second. Stay,” she whispered, and stepped closer to him. “You said we haven’t been alone, so let’s just be alone.” Dyston leaned his forehead against hers and inhaled her scent. She smelled of incense, she was intoxicating. Scarlett stood on her tippy-toes and pressed her lips to his, and he relaxed. As each second ticked on, their passion grew fiercer. She pushed him towards the bed.
“Do you really want this? Right now?” he asked
“Yes, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” She began unbuttoning his shirt.
“We should wait,” he said, in between kisses.
“For when? The world to burn or freeze over? I don’t want to wait. Now is the perfect time,” she told him, pushing him down on the bed.
“You’re right. We don’t know which moment will be our last. And until then, I want to spend each and every one of those moments with you.” He took her in his arms and held her close so that he could feel her heat. His hands slid under her top, and she let him remove it. They kicked off their shoes and rolled over. It was a small bed, a single, so Scarlett hit the wall when they rolled. She began laughing.
“Ouch.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I wish the bed was bigger.”
“I think that it’s fine, but tonight, I can push the other bed over so they’re together.”
“Tonight? You’re not staying.” She giggled as he kissed her neck. “You aren’t allowed.”
“Rules are only there to be broken.”
“Rebel,” she said against his lips, as he drew her up with him into a sitting position.
“That’s what I am, a rebel with a cause.” Scarlett gasped as Dyston’s fingers found her bra strap. At least he didn’t rip it like Lakyn… No! She would not compare one brother to the other. They were completely different.
“Black lace. Who’s the rebel now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he laid her back against the bed. Blood rushed to her face and she felt herself start to burn.
“Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s starting. I’m burning.”
“Not for long.” He ran his hands over her body, and she immediately began to cool.
“Thanks.” She shivered as he tugged off her jeans. “I’m glad I have you, you know.”
“Yeah, you’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
“Don’t get cocky, Dyston Blackbell.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She kissed his lips to shut him up. And when their bodies connected, they were one. In sync, like the perfect duet.
She pulled away the white sheet that had been constricting her. They had been tangled together in the white cotton vine, but now she could breathe. She kissed his chest and stroked the lines of his lean abdomen with her finger. He sighed at her feather-light touch.
“I’m curious,” she said, after a few minutes of just stroking and staring.
“You explored every inch of me and you’re still curious?” he chuckled.
“Not about your body, silly, but about your Trait and that song.”
“What song?”
“The one you were singing in your room when you thought no one was listening, right before we met. The one you called Flame.”
“Oh, that one. It’s not actually a song, it’s just a melod
y.”
“I can’t get it out of my head.”
He smiled and kissed her again. “I wrote it for you.”
“I’ve never had someone write me a song before. I like it. Can you sing it to me?”
“Ah… I might need a bit more persuasion.”
“Okay.” She draped her leg over him and pulled herself up, so that she was sitting on him. “Is that enough persuasion for you?”
“Okay, that’s perfect,” he chuckled. Scarlett rolled off and lay back down beside him, her head resting in the crook of his elbow. He began humming.
With each note Scarlett grew even more in love with him, and this simple melody that he may or may not have composed, had become their song. They decided that, if ever one of them were lost or separated, they would only need to hum this song, and they would find each other.
“So about your Trait, when…” A knock at the door interrupted Scarlett’s question.
“Who is it? We’re kind of busy here,” Dyston told the knocker. Emer poked her head in.
“I said—”
“Oh, sorry. Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” she said, a grin the size of the Sydney Harbour Bridge appeared on her face, and then disappeared just as quick.
“What is it, Emer?” asked Scarlett.
“Kat’s funeral is about to begin.”
Chapter Eighteen