Alora Page 3

  In desperation, Alora prepared to transport Kaevin out of the way—somewhere—anywhere away from the murderous guard. But something tackled her from the side, knocking her over against the sleeping platform, her shoulder twisting as Faestus’ grasp remained firm on her wrist.

  Jireo! Why did you do that?

  She craned her neck, mesmerized by the guard’s sword, which gleamed as he held it in the sunlight. The flashing blade began its decent. Alora screamed. Kaevin spun, his foot connecting with guard’s knee. A crack sounded. The guard shrieked, tumbling to the floor. Following him down, Kaevin’s knife slid across the guard’s throat. Thrashing and gurgling, Gastaene’s life left his body, a scene that didn’t sit well with Alora’s stomach.

  Turning her head, she threw up on the floor. Whether from fear or horror, she didn’t know, but she was glad she hadn’t already eaten Uncle Charles’ cinnamon rolls.

  “Ughh!” Jireo scrambled away from her, leaving his bloody imprint on her shirt.

  Kaevin wiped his knife on his jeans and sheathed it before offering Alora a hand to help her stand. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, mortified at her weak stomach, she refused to look him in the eye. But strong hands slid around her waist, lifting her to her feet and into his strong embrace, his blood soaking into her new pink sweater. She stayed there, safe in the circle of his arms until her body stopped trembling. Still, the nausea remained. In fact, it grew even stronger. I’ve got to get a handle on my emotions. They’re crippling me.

  “We must escape now,” said Jireo. “The other guard left to call Vindrake.”

  “Maybe you should take Markaeus and run,” Alora panted, lifting her wrist and flexing her fingers, trying to get blood to flow past Faestus’ painful grip.

  “I can’t,” Jireo declared, laying a meaningful hand on Kaevin’s shoulder. “You know I can’t leave.”

  “I don’t believe the grip will release as long as I live,” Faestus stated, his voice dripping with significance.

  Kaevin nodded, pressing his lips together until they blanched. Tilting his head toward Markaeus as he climbed out from under the table, Kaevin whispered, “We can’t do it, Faestus. Markaeus would never forgive us.”

  “I serve my Lord and Master Vindrake.” Faestus mumbled the bloodbond mantra with a trembling chin. Looking up through damp lashes, he added, “I love my grandson more than my life.”

  “Wait,” said Jireo, holding up one finger in a pause sign. He tapped it on his forehead and smiled. Climbing onto the sleeping platform, he knelt behind Faestus. His arm snaked around the old man’s neck and squeezed. Faestus’ eyes bulged and his face turned red.

  “No!” Markaeus screamed. “Stop! No!”

  Kaevin grabbed the boy, who fought to escape him, kicking and screaming.

  “Calm down, Markaeus. We must escape. There’s no other way.”

  As Faestus’ eyes blinked closed, his grip fell from Alora’s wrist, stinging blood rushing into her fingers. Again, she turned her head to vomit, but this time she only had dry heaves.

  “Hello, Alora.”

  Her father’s deep voice, coated in thick, velvety evil, slid into Alora’s consciousness like a searing razor, red-hot pain shooting throughout her body. She didn’t have to look to know he was standing in the doorway with a Satanic smile on his face.

  “Alora,” Kaevin murmured, reaching for her while holding the still-protesting Markaeus with one arm.

  Memories. Terror. Hopelessness.

  Swimming through the fog in her brain, thick as mud, Alora tried to find a way to shore. She felt a pressure on her arm and attempted to shake it off.

  “Alora...” In her ear, Kaevin’s voice parted the dark clouds in her mind. “Take us home.”

  Home. Yes.

  She transported.

  It worked.

  “Thank God, you’re back!” Uncle Charles wrapped his long lanky arms around them, squeezing them together until she could hardly breathe. But even when he let go, her lungs constricted and her head pounded in a familiar ache.

  There was no air in the room.

  Slumping into a lump on the floor, Markaeus sobbed. “Grandfather... Grandfather...”

  But Alora could only cling to Kaevin, while the room spun in circles.

  Abruptly, he gripped her arm tight, pushing her back and yelling at her with wide eyes, while clutching his forehead with the other hand.

  Shaking her throbbing head to clear it, she tried to make sense of his words. Something about finding Jireo.

  Is he hiding? Stupid time to play hide and seek. Too tired to transport him. But that’s what Kaevin wants.

  She slumped to her knees, pulling Kaevin down with her.

  So weak. Need power to move Jireo.

  A small power pool presented itself. Would it be enough?

  Reaching out to call Jireo to her, she tapped the tiny source. Deep green eyes, framed by sandy-blond hair, stared up from a prone position on the floor. Is he really here or do I see him in my mind?

  The room darkened. Narrowed. The wood floor rushed to crash into her face.

  ~3~

  “Alora, I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.”

  Warm lips touched hers, a gentle caress. Something soft cushioned the side of her face, and she recognized the sweet scent of fabric softener on her freshly-washed pillowcase. Blinking her scratchy eyes, she squinted into the depths of Kaevin’s emerald green lakes, a few inches away.

  “Hi,” she croaked from her parched mouth, hoping he was far enough away not to notice if her breath was bad.

  Flashing a crooked smile embellished with a carved dimple, he straightened, tucking his wavy brown locks behind an ear. “You’ve been asleep for a while. Jireo said I woke up after a finger or two.”

  Still groggy, she wondered at the meaning of his statement and his shirtless state, though she enjoyed the view of his smooth muscular chest. Then something caught her eye. A bandage across his stomach. What happened?

  Everything came back to her at once. The events of the morning. The guards. The battle. Her father. Pervasive evil.

  With blood pounding in her ears, no more words penetrated her hearing. Kaevin’s hand squeezed hers. His mouth moved as he yelled something. Her uncle burst into the room. More yelling.

  Kaevin dropped to his knees beside the bed, still holding her hand. Her eyelids closed, trying to shut out the violent images in her brain. A distant voice echoed in her head. Kaevin. She tried to focus on his words.

  “Alora. Draw your power from water,” he croaked.

  Something cold pressed into her palm. Stinging. Ice.

  “Remember what your grandmother said: Push the fear down. Think of those you love.”

  “No,” she panted. “Leave me alone.”

  “Please, Alora. You’re hurting me.”

  Kaevin. I can’t hurt Kaevin. Clamping her fingers around the cube, she centered her thoughts on the freezing sensation. Bit by bit, her terror crawled back into its shell, leaving a slimy trail of pain behind.

  Something jarred the bed, and the pressure of sharp claws slid across Alora’s arm. Fur in her nose. Panting. A bark. A wet tongue assaulted her face.

  “Bozeman, get off me!” Alora complained, shoving her elbow at the golden retriever who’d invaded her space. Her protest was met with another lick, this one in her open mouth.

  “Yuck!” She spit as she laughed out loud. Still gripping the ice in her hand, she pushed into a sitting position to escape the dog’s loving attack.

  “I believe I’ll make you brush your teeth before I kiss you again,” said Kaevin, peering up from the spot where he’d collapsed on the floor, leaning against the bed for support. His expression revealed his relief that another crisis had been averted.

  A thought flashed into her head. “What happened to Jireo?” she whispered, cringing as she waited for the answer.

  “He’s well.” Kaevin looked around as if his best friend might be in the room somewhere. “You transported him just before you p
assed out... before we passed out.”

  “What happened?” Uncle Charles strode into the room, raking his fingers through his hair. He clapped his hands together once, ordering Bozeman off the bed. The dog complied, with his tail between his legs.

  “I don’t understand why this happened,” Alora said. “I know how to draw my power from stone or water or forest. Why do I keep drawing from the soulmate bond? And why do I always lose control of my emotions?”

  “Are you nuts?” Another voice invaded. Gruff and grumpy.

  Dr. Sanders. He’s just like Laethan. I wonder if all doctors are grouchy.

  “Have you forgotten that her father tortured her just a few months ago? Burned her over and over again?” Doc shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down his nose. “This is a classic case of PTSD. What she needs is counseling. Cognitive therapy.”

  At his mention of her father, Alora clamped tighter on the ice, staving off another wave of panic.

  “What is this peety essty?” asked Kaevin.

  “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Doc explained, “It’s when a person re-experiences the same symptoms or emotions of a traumatic event long after it happened. Could be bad dreams or anxiety or panic. It happens to many people who go through trauma. I’d say having your father tie you up and torture you would qualify. And didn’t Jireo tell us they just saw that maniac again?”

  Picturing a rope wrapped around her emotions multiple times, Alora ground out between clenched teeth, “Why do I have it? Why me and not Kaevin?” Feeling cool air on her cheeks, she was embarrassed to find she was crying, and moved the ice to clasp it between both hands.

  Kaevin pulled himself to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. His hands reached out and cupped both of hers. “I believe I might have it, as well. I have nightmares...” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his voice dropped. “Almost every night.”

  Alora’s throat constricted. “That could be from me. I’m not good at controlling my empathy at night.”

  “I thought you’d pretty much gotten a tight hold on that weird gift.” Uncle Charles’ face crunched in a disgruntled frown. “I don’t get it. Raelene said you probably had this emotion thing for years. Why, all of a sudden, is it out of control?”

  “Grandmother told me my empathy gift must have grown stronger after the soulmate bond formed.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s PTSD,” Doc interrupted.

  “If it’s PTSD, does that mean I’m especially weak? Not everyone gets it, right?” asked Alora, sliding the ice back to one hand so she could rub an achy spot on her forehead.

  “Weakness has nothing to do with it, Alora. Strong people get it all the time.” Doc spoke with enough conviction to assuage her doubts.

  “No one would ever accuse you of weakness,” said Uncle Charles. “Not after what you and Kaevin went through.”

  Kaevin climbed to his wobbly feet. “It would be excellent, however, if you could master the art of drawing your power from a source other than the soulmate bond when you’re utilizing your empathy gift.”

  “I’ll pay for counseling if that’s what they need,” Charles declared. “Can you set it up, Doc?”

  “I can imagine it now,” said Alora, with a bitter smile, altering her voice to a squeaky drone. “‘Just lay back on the couch and tell me what happened, Alora...’ ‘Well, it all started when my evil father captured Kaevin and me in another world, chained us to a wooden platform, and burned me with a hot iron to force us to take his oath of fealty. We would’ve gotten away if I’d been able to transport us out of there after closing the portal...’”

  Doc covered his face with his hands, groaning through his fingers. “Maybe a counselor isn’t such a good idea. I can barely handle the truth myself. I might be able to study up on PTSD and figure something out...”

  Kaevin cleared his throat. “I don’t want to offend anyone, but Alora and I need to... uhmm... I mean... my head is hurting and I think hers is as well...”

  “I’m outta here,” said Uncle Charles, his cheeks turning blotchy red.

  “Me too.”

  Doc slid out the door behind Charles, leaving the door open. That was fine. They didn’t need total privacy to kiss, but it was less awkward if people weren’t watching.

  Kaevin rattled the cup of ice on the bedside table, “Do you need another piece?”

  “This one is pretty melted, but I think I’m okay.”

  Bracing with one hand, he leaned to kiss her. She was accustomed to the tingle, now recognizing the feeling of their soulmate bond replenishing. The tingle was quite pleasant, though the necessity of the contact reduced the romantic aspect a bit. He kept his lips pressed to hers for several minutes, not that she was complaining. When he ended the kiss, his fingers traced a tickly path along her jaw before withdrawing.

  “I love you, Alora.”

  Okay, that’s still romantic.

  Her gaze dropped down to two large pieces of gauze taped across his stomach and on his side. “That awful warrior stabbed you with the sword.” She’d seen it happen and wondered how he was still alive.

  “Scratches. Barely through the skin. You know I’m gifted in dexterity and weapons.”

  “Yeah, but not humility, right?”

  “I would be completely humble if I weren’t the best,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

  She touched the gauze, feeling his answering stab of pain. It’s worse than he said.

  “They both had swords, and you both had only knives. And I assume those guards were also gifted, right?”

  His shoulders shrugged. “We were more gifted. I’ve got enhancement from my soulmate bond with you and from the defender bond with Jireo.”

  Her stomach turned a flip-flop as she replayed the fight in her mind, but she kept her emotional response at bay. “What happened at the end? I thought you were injured. I thought he was going to kill you.”

  “Ha!” said Jireo, sauntering into the room, his own bandage peeking from the sleeve of his t-shirt. “And were it not for me, you would’ve prevented his plan from being successful.”

  “Whose plan?”

  “Obviously, Kaevin was attempting to convince him he was too injured to fight, but of course, I knew better. A couple of slashes to the gut and one to the thigh would never be enough to—“

  “A slash to the thigh?” She turned to Kaevin and pinned him with her most accusative stare. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

  “The small cuts weren’t life threatening,” Kaevin argued.

  “It’s all my fault. Everything.”

  “It’s not all your fault. But I would like to discuss something...” His brows created a deep furrow on his forehead.

  Oh no... here it comes.

  “I told you never to transport without me.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Something about his authoritative tone didn’t sit right with Alora, no matter how reasonable his argument. The fact that Kaevin was eighteen while she was still only sixteen was a constant source of conflict, though she suspected he would’ve been just as bossy if she’d been a year older than him. In truth, after all she’d been through in the past six months, she’d matured way beyond most sixteen-year-olds.

  Uncle Charles recognizes my maturity. Why can’t Kaevin see it?

  “We had a mutual agreement that I wouldn’t transport without you, but that shouldn’t include when I transport inside or around the ranch house.”

  “You went to Tenavae,” Kaevin said, with an angry flail of his arms. “To Portshire!”

  “How was I supposed to know Markaeus found a brand new portal that went to his grandfather’s hut?”

  “Exactly! You didn’t know where you were going, so you shouldn’t have gone without me.”

  Alora took a deep breath and held it, in a vain attempt to keep her temper at bay. “Fine! I’ll never go anywhere without your permission again.” She flounced out of bed and marched across the room, throwing over he
r back, “Do you mind if I go to the restroom now? Or do I need a hall pass?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Alora, this is the behavior of a child.”

  Halting in midstride, she caught herself before she stomped her foot. Instead she turned back, speaking with slow, even tones, painted with disdain. “I. Am. Not. A. Child.”

  “Then don’t act as if you are.” His jaw jutted forward as his arms folded across his chest.

  Jireo stepped forward, grasping both of Kaevin’s forearms, and speaking in a funny, pinched tone. “Kaevin, as your defender bond brother, I must tell you... your present line of conversation puts your life at risk.” He burst into laughter, falling on the vacated bed.

  Alora grasped at her self-righteous anger, but felt it slipping through her grip, especially when Kaevin mouthed, “Sorry,” and dropped his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets and sending out a wave of remorse.

  Jireo caught his breath. “Alora, I should remind you that killing Kaevin might be satisfying...” He gave an emphatic wink. “But it would also be hazardous to your health.”

  **************

  “I’m an emotional wreck, Beth.” Alora collapsed in a chair, happy for a moment alone with her best friend. “I don’t know why I can’t keep my gift under control. I seem to be getting worse instead of better. Grandmother’s about ready to give up on me.”

  “Did she really say that?” asked Beth, her brown eyes as round as saucers.

  “She doesn’t even know about my latest failure. She’s on an expedition with Bardamen. They’re going back to some kind of library full of scrolls and parchments, called the Craedenza. It’s supposed to have all of their history and writings, plus a bunch of scholars who understand it all.”

  Beth yawned, circling her eyes to the ceiling. “That sounds fascinating. Sorry I wasn’t invited.”

  Alora chuckled. “Right. Me too. But I hope she figures out how to help me with this empathy problem.”

  “All you really need is warm chocolate chip cookies. They cure everything.” Beth checked the time on her cell phone. “They’ll be done in eight minutes. And I’m sure the guys will help us eat them when they come in from target practice.”