Then, in an explosion of white light and black shadows, Gerik released me. The magic in the air burst and shattered into a million tiny fractures of light and dark that sprinkled down upon me like rain and disappeared into my skin. White hot fire exploded inside of me and the scents of summer filled the air.
Everything was suddenly within my reach. I could hear the heartbeats of animals from miles away. I could sense the storm that hadn’t yet broken through the clouds two towns over. I could feel the earth beneath me pulsing with foliage yet to break free. Colors I’d never dreamed existed before appeared, and sounds I shouldn’t have been able to hear burst through my ears. I was connected to life, to all living things.
Then a dark, cooling balm fell over me and winter permeated my senses. Crisp, cold air and fresh snow, loneliness, starvation and…death, surrounded me. Shadows came bearing down, pressing their burdens upon me, and with them they’d brought the weight of the world.
All the life I felt only seconds ago was suddenly wrought with darkness and death. The heartbeats became ticking time bombs, the storm clouds, a death sentence. Just as I had connected to the living, I was also now connected with the dead and dying. Both conflicting powers surged within me, warring with each other in an unbeatable battle before finally having no choice but to settle peacefully inside of me.
Exhausted, I went limp and collapsed in Gerik’s lap.
“That, Trinity,” Gerik whispered, just before everything went black. “Was me taking what has always been mine.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Transylvania, 1078 A.C.E.
Treime hung limply from her chains in Lord Silviu Torc’s bedchambers, bruised and bleeding, her limbs aching and throbbing.
She watched silently through one slightly swollen eye as her captor cleaned his hands and face in a bowl of water before pulling on his shirt and hose, followed by his tunic.
“I would release you from the chains,” he told her as he slipped into his shoes. “If you would only reveal the secrets of your magic to me.”
She shook her head. “I have told you I have no magic.” It was true. She had tried and failed to call on Emilian’s magic to set her free a number of times and had felt something far more terrifying than anything Lord Torc could do to her.
Instead of the light magic that had once filled her, she felt only darkness and death. Something she didn’t dare touch.
Lord Torc’s laughter could be heard reverberating throughout the entire castle. “You take me for a fool, Gypsy wench! I saw your magic with my own eyes! Do you mean to tell me you enjoy being strung up on my wall while I treat myself to your favors?” He laughed again, a cruel cold sound.
She couldn’t stop the lone tear from falling or the wince as the salty drop landed in a fresh cut on her face.
“You are a monster,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “You have beaten my baby out of me and used my body in ways I hadn’t even thought possible. You killed my family, my people, in cold blood and for what, for a few pieces of gold and some secrets?”
Lord Torc grew silent as he watched her cry, something she had learned was never a very good sign.
Picking up his sheathed sword and belt, he strode toward her. He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. She no longer had the energy to fight him. Feeling no resistance from her, he tossed his sword and belt behind him and lifted her body against him.
Her tears fell harder as he kicked off his shoes and began tugging down his hose. “You are mine now, wench,” he growled against her neck. “Body and soul.”
The door was suddenly flung open and two of his soldiers rushed inside. Lord Torc turned on them, his face a mask of fury.
“We are being attacked my lord…it’s…it’s…” The boy stumbled over his words, not quite knowing what to say.
“Well, speak up! Who is attacking us and why aren’t you killing them?”
“It’s just one man my lord,” an older soldier replied, his face deathly pale, his hands trembling.
“One man!” Lord Torc roared, grabbing his sword. “You imbeciles!”
The older of the two soldiers edged further into the room. “It is just one man, my lord…but it is death he brings.”
Both soldiers suddenly grabbed their throats, clawing desperately at their skin. Blood began to pour from their eyes, their noses, and mouths as they crumpled to floor.
Lord Torc, unsheathing his sword, turned to her and pointed the tip of the blade at her heart. “Witch!” he screamed. “What have you done?!”
She smiled sadly at him. “It is what you have done, my lord, not I.”
Lord Torc’s chubby face grew red with rage and with one thrust he plunged his sword into her heart and twisted. She screamed as streaks of blinding pain shot outward from her heart into her chest.
Lord Torc gasped suddenly and began struggling for breath. Falling to his knees in front of her, the sword, still in his grasp, was wrenched from her body. Hot blood spurted from the hole in her chest as her heart tried unsuccessfully to keep beating. Her vision began to swim.
Then suddenly, ice began to form over the wound and slowly coat the rest of her body, numbing her. She felt nothing now but cold. Slumping in her chains, she waited for the peace death would bring her, when she smelled it.
The forest. Sunshine. Emilian! Her soul rejoiced! He was alive! Walther and he would live; they would carry on the clan!
Feeling herself being lifted and finally free of her chains, she struggled to speak and failed as her breath now came in short, desperate pants. Soft, sweet, lips pressed against her. Tears, not her own, rolled down her face.
Unable to speak or move, her eyelids now too heavy to open, she used the only power she had left to say goodbye to her beloved. Using their connection, she sent him a vision, the happiest moment in all of her two and twenty years. With what little energy was left inside of her she pushed the memory forward, felt it flow through their bond and release into him.
Then she took her last breath and closed her eyes for eternity. The last thing she heard was the agonizing scream of her husband.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Present Day
I came back to consciousness alone. Gerik had left me.
In his place remained a whole lot of magic and no instruction manual. Like a sixth sense I couldn’t help but feel what was now readily available inside of me. Both powers, light and dark, were equally strong and dangerous in their own right and I had no idea what to do with them.
Anger flared inside me. Somehow, despite everything I had done to prevent our bonding, Gerik had managed it anyway. Had he always had the power to join us without the physical aspect or had it been his transformation to darkness that had allowed it to occur? I suppose it didn’t matter much now, the how’s or the why’s of it, it was done and somehow I had to figure out what to do with it.
A Skin Eater, female, wearing only her bra and underwear and looking as if she had been living in a mud puddle, jumped out from behind a nearby tree.
Shaking and afraid I began backing away, looking for anything I could use as a weapon when my hands began to glow. I stared in astonishment at the glowing white sparks and black wisps of smoke that were gathering in the palms of my hands, then dissolving almost as quickly as they had formed.
The Skin Eater lunged at me, hissing as her feet left the ground. Startled and panicked, I began flailing my hands around wildly, hoping for the best.
In mid jump, the Skin Eater was suddenly flung backwards by an unseen force. It was something I had obviously done but had no idea how I did it or if I could do it again.
Scrambling to her feet, red eyes wide with confusion, she came at me again.
“Oh, fuck me!” I screamed, and shook my hands again in her direction.
She exploded in a ball of fire. Orange, red and black flames ate her up within seconds, leaving me staring at a pile of steaming bones.
More fire formed in my palm; freaked out, I flung it straight into a nearby tree. S
everal startled birds flew out, leaving behind a spray of flaming leaves. Seconds later, when the entire tree burst into flames, I turned and ran.
******
It took me the better part of the day to find my way back to camp. When I breached the tree line, at first seeing nothing but an empty clearing didn’t surprise me.
Until I noticed the wards. For the first time, I was able to see them. The transparent bubble surrounding camp was now clearly discernable to my newly enhanced eyes. As I walked slowly through, I sensed it pull apart and tremble slightly before closing behind me.
The sight in front of me was exactly the same as it had been outside of the wards. An empty clearing. I thought back on Jericho’s panicked words when Gerik had taken me from camp. They’d left because of Gerik. And because of me.
I wandered the clearing, stunned at what Gerik had done to me, not only bonding us for all eternity but starting the chain of events that had led to my abandonment. I had nothing now, no spare clothing, no food and no place to live. The worst, I was completely alone.
How could he claim to care about me and still have done this? Because, I thought bitterly, Gerik does whatever he wants.
Approaching the back lot I found the remnants of our attackers. Piled high in what had been the place of clan meetings, parties and dances were the blackened bones of nearly a dozen Skin Eaters.
And further back, where Marcell had been buried, nineteen more graves had been hastily dug and covered. No matter how fast the men had worked, nineteen graves would have taken longer than a day to dig. Exactly how long had I been unconscious?
Unsure of what to do next, I thought about my options. I could wait here and see if the raiding party would return. Yet, if the clan was rejecting me, who was to say Xan wouldn’t as well? Or, even if he accepted the new me, what he never returned to camp?
In the end, I left. I followed the well worn tracks of the raiding parties out of the mountains, coming quickly across a gravel road. After hours of walking, I encountered a small town, giving me my first real glimpse of what the world had become since I’d gone into hiding with the Gypsies.
Cars sat empty in the road, some with keys still in their ignition. Clothes and purses, souvenirs from a world that had ended, covered the street. The decayed remains of both animals and humans lay half-eaten on the sidewalk, in the ditches, some still in their vehicles. The shops lining the street had been looted, windows smashed, doors hanging off their hinges, some had even burned to the ground.
The world had become a graveyard.
The sound of heavy footsteps had me turning. Far enough down the road that I wasn’t able to make out any distinct features, I saw a Skin Eater coming quickly toward me. Its bare feet pounding on the pavement thudded in time to my racing heart.
I took a deep, shaky breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. I already knew I could kill it, I just wasn’t sure how exactly.
Here goes nothing.
Fire, I thought, and instantly a small orange-and black-streaked flame formed in my outstretched hand. I threw the ball of flames the way I’d watched Walther and Gerik toss their magic at each other. The fire hit the Skin Eater in its midsection and instantly spread over its entire body.
I surveyed the street and found a second Skin Eater, easily discernible as a male, peeking out at me from behind the bed of a truck. His eyes went wide with fear when he realized I’d found him. The knowledge that one of these creatures was afraid of me was enough incentive to give me the courage to do what I did next.
Air, I thought, instantly feeling a breeze sweep over me and accumulate in my palms. As he turned to run from me, I didn’t think, just whipped the air in his direction, wanting to stop him.
In mid run, he suddenly lifted off the ground as the air I’d thrown whipped around him like a tornado, freezing him in place. Wary, I approached him slowly, sweating from fear and quivering from adrenaline. He growled at me, mostly, I think, because that’s what animals do when they’re cornered.
“You,” I demanded, sounding a lot more sure of myself than I actually felt. “Are going to give me the directions out of this fucking town?”
EPILOGUE
Long Island, NY, twenty-two years ago
“She’s beautiful.” Shannon Petros looked at her husband with tears of happiness streaming down her face. “God, she’s absolutely beautiful and perfect, Angelos, look at those eyes!”
Angelos stared at his tiny daughter the way only a father stares at his newborn child, with a sort of dumbstruck look. She stared right back at him with stunning, deep emerald green eyes. If it wasn’t for her olive skin and jet black hair he would have sworn his wife had cheated on him. Shannon’s eyes were blue and his were such a dark brown they looked almost black.
“I finally have a sister! It’s about time, daddy.” Teodora punched him in the arm, grinning from ear to ear. “Only why’d you wait so long? In a few years I’ll be old enough to be her mother!”
“Eh.” Angelos looked at his eldest daughter and smiled. “She’ll just look up to you, instead of fighting with you.”
“So did you guys decide on a name?” Teodora looked back and forth between Shannon and him.
Shannon grinned at her stepdaughter. “Trinity Shannon Petros.”
Teodora laughed with delight. “Awesome, another ‘T’ name!”
Angelos shared in his daughter’s laughter. “I only need one more daughter now and I shall have my own ‘Moirai’.”
“Here we go again,” Shannon groaned.
He touched Teodora’s cheek. “There were three Greek Moirai. The first was named Clotho, the spinner. She spun the thread of life from her distaff onto her spindle.” He ran the tips of his fingers down his new daughter’s cheek. “And second was Lachesis, the drawer of lots. She measured the thread of life allotted to each person with her measuring rod.”
Then with a laugh he patted Shannon’s belly. “And lastly there was Atropos, the inevitable, who would choose the manner of each person’s death by cutting their life thread with her abhorred shears.”
Shannon groaned again. “How depressing for our non-existent child!”
“Oooh, Daddy,” Teodora cried out, “There’s a little boy in the doorway!”
Standing, Angelos peered at the little blonde boy who couldn’t be any older than seven or eight, standing in the doorway to Shannon’s hospital room.
“Are you okay, son? Are you lost?” he asked.
The little boy shook his head, no.
“Poor thing looks so sad,” Shannon whispered. Then louder, asked, “Where’s your mommy and daddy, honey?”
The little boy refused to look at her when he answered. “They died,” he said softly.
“Oh gods,” Teodora whispered. “Daddy, I’m going to go get a nurse.” Standing up, she straightened her top, then quickly left the room.
“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Shannon asked the boy.
He nodded. The little boy approached the bed slowly and stood on his tiptoes to peek at Trinity. His deep blue eyes widened when he saw her.
“She smells so pretty,” he said, looking awestruck.
Angelos laughed. “Girls always do, son, it’s how they reel us in.”
Shannon shot him a dirty look. He grinned back at her.
“Can I touch her?” The boy asked.
Shannon glanced at Angelos, who shrugged. “Why not?” he said, “I see no harm in it.”
Shannon tilted Trinity down a bit so the boy could reach her. Trinity’s big green eyes widened at the sight of him and she let out a tiny coo. Angelos laughed. “Son, I think that means she likes you.”
The boy smiled, his blue eyes shining. Just as he was about to lightly graze her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, Teodora walked back in. A short, plump nurse wearing pink scrubs was following closely behind her. Seeing her, the boy’s hand fell to his side.
“Oh honey, how did you find yourself up here?” the nurse asked the boy. “Your godparents
are here, they’ve come to take you home with them. Come with me, sweetie.”
The boy glanced back at Trinity.
“Come along, Gerik,” the nurse repeated, her hand outstretched. “Jericho and Maisera are waiting. Everything is going to be fine. I promise you.”
After one long look at Trinity, Gerik took the nurse’s hand and together they left the room, leaving the Petros family staring sadly after them.
GLOSSARY OF DEFINITIONS:
Ah, lepo dekle na lep večer – Oh, beautiful girl on a beautiful evening.
Aphrodite – The Greek Goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation.
Ares – The Greek God of war.
Athena – The Greek Goddess of wisdom, war, the arts, industry, justice and skill.
Baró –The leader
Băiatul are coarne – The boy has horns
Băiatul meu – My boy
Blestemul vampirului – Curse of the vampire.
Balaur – Dragon
Fundul calului – Horses ass
Ciocănitoare – Woodpecker
Dark magic – Is unnatural magic; essentially trapped death. The use of the fifth and forbidden element, spirit, will turn all light magic, dark. There are consequences for calling on dark magic; severity depends on why you’ve summoned the darkness and what you’ve used it for.
Diklo – A scarf Roma women wore over their hair to symbolize their status as married.
Dulcea mea fată – My sweet girl
Eros – The Greek God of love. (Cupid)
Eşti în siguranţă – You’re safe
Fată – Girl
Fata mea – My girl
Fiul Meu – My son
Fetiță – Little girl
Frate – Brother
Gaje – Anyone who is not of Romani descent
Gypsy – A member of a nomadic, Caucasoid people of generally swarthy complexion, who migrated originally from India, settling in various parts of Asia, Europe, and most recently, North America.