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“Again!” Trieu shouts back at Mark and Brian who charge at me in wolf form.
Rising from the floor, a golden light surrounds me, and a powerful wind emits from within me, pushing both Mark and Brian away with a hurricane-like force. Stretching my hand toward Brae, small fireballs shoot from my palms, sending tiny flames at her shoulders. She winces with each contact, grinding her razor-sharp fangs, but still manages a small smile, encouraging me to continue my assault.
“Remember, Damina, wolves are mortal so you must attack them with elemental and natural sources. Scourge are only weakened by the sun or tearing them in two,” Trieu instructs. “If needed, you can pull the very oxygen from a wolf’s mortal soul.”
“I don’t want to do that! I’ll hurt them.” I protest as I work hard to keep all three away from me. Marking a boundary line with my light is not as easy as either Trieu or Vonnie made it look. My energy escapes me, and I slowly drift to the ground as I try desperately to hold on to the remaining surge pulsating through me.
Brian is the first to take advantage of the opportunity as he rushes toward me, but I have just enough strength in me to force one final blow of wind in his direction, crippling him on all fours to the ground. As I do, the strength of the flames I once hurled at Brae douses to smoke. She heals before my eyes, wiping away the smoldering dust on her arms and shoulders while scaling the walls and yelping an ear-splitting shriek that nearly deafens me.
“Pull the oxygen from the room, Damina! Do it now! No air. No sound!” I hear Trieu command me through the glass wall.
Annoyed, I turn my head at her to protest, but Mark uses my distraction to pounce on me, gripping me by the arm. Although his hold is tight, he keeps my forearm behind his canines, lessening my pain. Brae screeches once more, and I fear I’ll lose my hearing if I don’t do as Trieu instructed and halt her screams. Keeping my free hand aimed at Brian, I know I must get Mark off me if I am to summon enough strength to draw out the oxygen as Trieu instructed.
Spinning to my side, I twirl my arm as fast as inhumanly possible until I am able to toss Mark from my arm, flinging him across the room. Mark’s wolf is shot like a cannon from my arm straight to the ceiling where Brae is perched. As he plunges into her, they both fall on top of Brian and I tighten the force of wind around the three of them, holding them captive to the floor beneath me. I manage a modicum of power to once more hover over them while encasing them with my light.
Looking over my shoulder, I smile at Trieu, pleased at my obvious feat. More so, I’m thankful I am able to hold everyone off without having to actually suffocate my friends. Still, Trieu doesn’t appear to share my enthusiasm. Her eyes fall as I gaze at her and a small frown etches the creases of her thin pink lips.
Irritation fills me as I look on at Trieu and back again at Mark, Brian, and Brae. Why can’t Trieu be happy for me? Brae’s eyes grow wide as she stares at me. Her sharp teeth retract and her blackened eyes constrict to her normal opulence and I see her mouthing something to me, but I am unable to hear her as my eardrums are still muted from her deafening pitch. Both Mark and Brian paw at me, but in their wolf form I cannot understand them.
As I turn back to Trieu, she lowers her head, closing her eyes tight. She seems disappointed with me.
Just then, I am lifted from behind and thrown across the room into the wall. Before I have a moment to get my bearings or see who threw me, I am flung once more, by my ankles into the air, hitting the ceiling. My barrier surrounding Brae and the others fade, and both Mark and Brian lunge at me.
Anger pools inside me as the room spins around me. And I am thankful for it. The kindling of rage is just the provocation necessary for another resurgence of strength to bellow through me. A loud scream like that of shock waves rivets from the deepest parts of my core and I send a barreling gale force toward Mark and Brian, knocking them back to the ground.
Regaining my levitation, I recall Trieu’s earlier teaching today on vibing my energy, my chi. Trieu taught me how Altrinions can harness a power from our solar-like center with enough strength to channel the four winds from the far corners of the earth. As much as I hated the notion of hurting my friends, I knew I needed to do what was necessary to protect myself. Except this time, using my own control. I take in a deep breath and exhale the remaining toxicity of fear and self-doubt.
Exhaling, I blow a strong wind of air toward Brian, Mark, and Brae, holding them in place. As I do, I feel strong hands grip my sides, but sidestep my assailant, turning counterclockwise, until I become my own tornado-like force.
Without a thought, I take the hands of my aggressor, only to find Dalcour staring back at me. In shock, I release his hands and my funnel slows its pace.
“Well done, Mina!” Brae cheers from the floor below us.
“Bravo!” Both Mark and Brian applaud on with whistling and a series of hand clapping.
“Yes, Beautiful, well done, indeed,” Dalcour adds. “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he continues as he grazes his hands through my hair, searching my face.
“That was you?” I question, still in awe of our tussle.
“Would you have rather it been me? I mean, I told him I was all in helping you train, but he thought it best for it to be him,” Titan says, standing at the doorway with Trieu who now wears a more gleeful disposition.
“And I told Titan—there is no world where him laying a hand on you is remotely tolerable,” Dalcour states in a throaty tone as he pulls my hand in his and lowers us to the ground.
“Well, there’s no better way for her to learn. Besides, I’ve trained hundreds—no thousands down here in the CC. My training methods are renowned!” Titan brags with a broad smile.
“The only thing legendary about your trainings is the hollowed walls of this former underground railroad hideaway!” Brae scoffs while tossing clothes to Brian and Mark, who are now behind a large curtain in the corner of the room.
“If I recall, you rather enjoyed my trainings, Young One,” Titan smirks as a devious crease folds along his brow.
“Really, leech? Can you not just take a hint? The woman isn’t interested in you!” Mark snaps as he rushes from behind the curtain wearing only his boxer briefs and socks.
“Please come closer. I dare you,” Titan snarls at Mark. Brae jumps in between the two men as Trieu pulls Titan at his wrists, pleading with him to stop picking fights.
“Pay them no attention, Beautiful. Again, I’m sorry I had to toss you around a bit,” Dalcour says, with a soft, sly smile.
“You had to?” I ask, puzzled.
“Well, yeah, I did. You must understand, Damina, you do not practice combat in neutral. You must train as if it’s D-day. You must train as if you expect the fight to begin—right now, in this moment.”
“Basically, what Lord Marchand is saying is if you train soft—you fight soft,” Brian states mildly. His voice is a bit wispy and I can see Brian is still trying to catch his breath.
“Yes, Lady Damina. We would never willingly put your friends here at risk,” Trieu says with whispered words, as she pushes her way past Mark and Titan’s standoff. “But I am glad you found your center.”
“Yes! Thank you, Trieu. Dalcour, Mark, Brae—everyone, just thank you for your help!” I state as I gaze around the room.
“Beautiful, again I only pushed you to react because if you’re going to go around with my brother Decaux you’re going to have to come prepared,” Dalcour says in a soft, yet eerily dark tone.
“So are you saying fighting you is like fighting your brother?” I ask.
“Not at all. Decaux is his own brand of Altrinion. He has no rules. Remember that, Beautiful.” Dalcour’s eyes narrow as he speaks. He searches my face for a moment, ensuring I take his advisement seriously. “But you did good for today. Not bad, my lady. Not bad at all.” Dalcour laughs, softening the mood as he walks toward me and kisses my forehead before turning back to talk with the others.
“Good. I am glad you’re doing so well. But there is still much more to learn,” Trieu continues with a motherly gaze that’s almost hard to see through her translucent hue.
“Well, there’s certainly more I’d like to work on. All of this is still so new to me.”
“Is there anything in particular you’d want to try next?” Trieu asks with a small, but curious smile. She stares around the room, looking at Brae and Dalcour as they talk with Mark and Brian. I notice Titan has disappeared, but I see Dranoel now standing at the door.
“Whenever you are ready, Lady Trieu,” Dranoel says from across the threshold. He looks at me with a tender smile, I nod in response, but I cannot help returning a smile when I detect a light scent of my aunt’s perfume pouring from his pores.
I suppose they really are spending a lot of time together. Good for them.
Looking over my shoulder, I see Dalcour and the others talking, and Trieu takes me by my arm and begins leading us to the hallway of the CC.
“So would you like to learn how to control your telepathy?” Trieu questions with a knowing smile.
“Why, yes,” I answer, knowing she’s likely read my mind. “How can I stop people from reading me? Other Altrinions, I mean.”
“Of course, well since you are not an Altrinion-Vampire like Lord Marchand you still need the cloaking powers of a wolf to keep your thoughts hidden,” Trieu says in a cottony quiet tone.
“What makes us so different? I mean, he’s still an Altrinion.” I reply, confused.
“Well, yes, but the vampiric strain douses the Altrinion light that is covered by the wolves. In that way, Altrinion Vampires can control a good deal of their mental range and power. Blood drinkers who have never killed or those to whom the curse is lifted, like Jerrica, require the assistance of wolves.”
“So that’s why Dal can block me out?” I mutter to myself.
“Precisely,” Trieu answers. “Thankfully, I have Dranoel and a few others who have cloaked me and my family for centuries as Jerrica has Brian and Charlotte.”
“Dal once said Jackson and my Peyroux family cloaked me. I wonder what happened?”
“I suppose the minute you became more accepting of the Altrinion nature within you, it lessened their ability to shield you.”
“Do I have to accept their cloaking? Is that how it works?”
“Something like that, I suppose. As your guardian, I am sure your aunt took that charge for you in your formative years. Later, as you fell in love with Lord Nashoba, you naturally submitted to his protection out of your love for him. I’m sure it didn’t take much coaxing. Besides, with your father’s permission, it was quite an easy task for him. But as your heart waned from him—”
“It lessened his protection,” I say, finishing Trieu’s thoughts.
Trieu smiles down at me and takes my palm in her hand. “Look, Damina, I know this is all still very new territory for you. Don’t try to trouble yourself with all the ins and outs too fast. Most of it will come in time.”
“Excuse me ladies,” Dranoel says, walking with Brian toward me and Trieu. “Brian and I just got texts from Gregory and Delia that the Lothian Den trackers have arrived.”
Excitement bubbles through me at Dranoel’s words. As much as I have enjoyed training, none of it matters if I don’t find my cousin. “That’s awesome! Hey, let’s get going everyone! The trackers are here, and we need to finally find my cousin!” I shout over my shoulder to Mark, Brae and Dalcour.
Dalcour, Mark and Brae are at my side in an instant and we begin making our way down the hall after I thank Trieu for her training.
Brian shouts my name from behind us and I turn to see he, Dranoel, and Trieu standing stiffly at the end of the corridor, all giving one another awkward glances.
“What is it, Brian?” Dalcour calls back over his shoulders with his hand cupped tight with my own.
“Perhaps Mark and I should go with the Lothian Den and do the first series of tracking. You know, make sure we survey the land before letting Lady Nicaud trek along with us. You know—just in case.” Brian’s unusually shifty posture doesn’t go unnoticed by me or the others, and Dalcour’s expression seems as irritated as I’ve become.
“If nothing more, I want to meet them.” I exclaim as I watch Mark’s face also grow with worry. “I mean, are they dangerous or something?”
“Or something,” Mark mutters with his head down.
“Brian, is there something more?” Dalcour demands, his voice pitchy. I can only assume he is as eager as I am to find his brother and end this once and for all.
“Oh this is ridiculous, B!” Brae quips. “You’re just standing there like a frigging statue and saying nothing. Damina, come on, let’s get upstairs and find your cousin!”
“Yes, you’re right, Braelyn. You can take Damina back to the mansion. Mark and I are right behind you,” Dalcour says, kissing my hand before placing it in Brae’s cold and gloved palm.
Although I am curious as to Brian’s strange behavior, I don’t have time to speculate before Brae whips me through the long dark corridor.
As the doors open both Delia and Jackson are the first to greet us. While I can understand Jackson’s diffidence with his growing ire toward all things Dalcour, I would have thought both he and my aunt would be pleased to have the Lothian Den Wolves here to use their keen tracking skills to find my cousin. Instead, both look at me with such a grim countenance I almost wonder if the Reaper himself is at my back.
“Where’s Dalcour?” Jackson asks as I lift to the top of the landing. His tone is stiff, and I can’t help wondering why he’s asking for him.
“He and Mark are coming right behind us,” Brae replies as I watch Jackson’s pensive posture shift back and forth. Jackson has never been an easily unnerved person, so I wonder what has gotten into him.
“What’s wrong, Aunt Delia?” I question cautiously as I notice glassy pools of water form behind her eyes. “Did something happen with Dacari?” I sputter my words so quick I am not even sure if I rehearsed the thought before speaking the words.
“No, Damina, there’s been no change in Dacari’s status that we are aware of,” Jackson softly responds as my aunt looks away nervously. Her nose twitches and I now see a more angered tint behind her eyes. Jackson’s stance also stiffens as his eyes dart to a shadowy form coming from the adjacent hall. I indistinctly hear Gregory’s mumbling from afar and I suspect he’s done something to upset Jackson.
“Okay, so where are these super wolf trackers?” Brae blurts, breaking through the gloomy gazes of both my aunt and ex-fiancé.
“Um, Damina—” Jackson starts, but it’s Brae’s loud gasp and flurry of expletives that turns my attention to the approaching company.
My mouth drops open with both shock and fury, rising my boiling blood in a split second. Rage swathes my sight and darkness cloud my view beyond my mania. Heat seeps out my pores like steam and my body warms like a fire. Dripping sweat beads at my brow and I dig my feet deep into the marble floor beneath me, cracking the hairlines with a tremorous stomp.
Flashing images of the eve of my wedding score through my memory and a haunting chill I have not felt since that night erupts a volcanic madness within me like I have never felt before.
Everything in me wants to maintain my composure. But I am struggling.
I want to be released from the infuriating sight before me. But I cannot. Instead, I am now captive to a resurging ire I can no longer escape.
A foe I had never hoped to see is now the face staring back at me.
Kyra!
What is she doing here?
Why would Jackson bring her here?
How dare she!
How could he?
This time, sadness holds no sway to my soul. Only vexing vibrations course through me, enticing me to flirt with a deep darkness within me I never knew existed.
“Hello, Damina.” Kyra’s whispered words meet my ears like nails on a chalkboard, and I can barely fathom her insolence.
Who does she think she is?
Who gave her permission to speak?
Not once have I extended an olive branch! It is nothing but her own hubris to think I would offer such consent.
I do not.
Once more, she parts her lips to speak, but this time I will not hear it. None of it.
Again, a looming darkness encapsulates my being at the mere sight of her. A malign essence swelters like heat along my body and a reddening sheen hue emanates through my skin. My feet rise just a few inches from the floor as I grant my fury permission to release.
Stretching my arms toward Kyra, I inhale deeply and tug my arms back to my chest, and Kyra is drawn to me as though I had an invisible ripcord. Without touching her, my two fists mound near her collarbone and I dig my nails into my palm, yanking the invisible ripcord tighter, suffocating her.
Kyra’s weakened hazel eyes bulge and she struggles to breathe. The sight of her struggle casts a shadow of joy over me and my mal intent becomes clear.
Perhaps I can pull the oxygen out of the room after all? If not, I can surely pull it out of her!
A sinister lilting chortle escapes the corners of my mouth and a malicious grin mars my face.
“Damina, stop it!” I hear Jackson plead from my left. Still, I don’t take my eyes from Kyra as my pleasure increases as she squirms, suspended in the air at nothing but my will.
Both Brae and Aunt Delia call my name as well, begging me not to do anything I’d regret. But I have no remorse. Just as she had none for the part she played in the demise of my would-be-nuptials.
Two men I suspect to be with her company growl at my right side and I pay them no other attention than guiding my hand toward them, crippling them to the floor with the wind I emit as I’d just done to Mark and Brian. Gregory also petitions me from afar, but I refuse to let her go.
Why should I?
This woman has earned my retribution. She willfully deceived Jackson. She aligned herself to Keiron. And is to her I owe our break-up, my current state and perhaps even Dacari’s departure. Every horrid detail of my life as of late could rightfully be laid at her feet.
Every. Single. Thing.
“No, Beautiful!” Dalcour’s voice alone breaks through the dissonance of my dismay. “You’re better than this, Beautiful. Let her go.”
With Dalcour’s hands now rested on my shoulders, the sweet effervescence of his scent permeates my being, cajoling me to a much calmer state.
Slowly, I exhale, releasing small currents of rage as I lower her back to the ground.
“That’s it, Beautiful,” Dalcour whispers softly at my ear. “Keep going, baby. You can do it.”
With his final words of reassurance, I fully release my hold on Kyra, and I exhale again as Dalcour wraps his arms around me, pinning me to his chest. The cadence of his heartbeat strums like a lullaby in my hearing, dousing the kindling rage burning within me.
It is in this moment I find myself thankful for one thing, and one thing alone.
Dalcour Marchand.