Cursed: Scarlet

~Scarlet~

Ian’s birthday was fast approaching, and his powers were unveiling themselves, if slowly. His temper was a big factor in his abilities. Case in point a few months after I’d met him; he had almost destroyed the main courtyard, or quad.

In one of the few moments I’d left him alone, he had been confronted by a few of his peers, who had decided to do what bullies do best. Biggest mistake of their lives, though they hadn’t learnt much from the experience.

Anyway, in a fit of rage, he had reduced almost every sculpture and fountain to rubble, almost decapitating everyone in range, including himself. I’d stopped it, but barely, controlling thousands of pieces of rubble is very taxing.

Instances such as those had to be avoided, which was the entire point of the binding ceremony. But I had to teach him how to control himself, even without such a seal in place. So almost every day after our return from Etherea, we had been practicing his self-control.

And it was definitely not going well. He hated meditating, exercising, spell work and anything not involving video games. He moaned about it so often I started sending electric jolts up his spine to stop him talking.

“Either you learn how to deal with it, or I’m going to turn you into Frankenstein’s monster,” I yelled at him one day. For such a sweet guy he was amazingly recalcitrant when it came to bottling up his magical abilities. The genes of Hades were finally showing themselves, not something I was particularly enjoying in all honesty.

“Well you seem to be enjoying it,” he groans from the floor.

“Look,” I say kneeling down next to him.” I know you hate it, I did too at a stage, but it’s this or every creature in the magical dimension will be able to sense you a mile away. And most of them are not mage friendly.”

“How in the good sweet hell do you do it then?” he turns onto his back to stare at me, tears brimming from the jolts. I may possibly have used a bit more energy than I thought. We were on the roof of my tower, so as not to harm the other students, or the castle. The grey storm clouds were growing overhead, but the view was still amazing.

“Technically, I grew up with elves, and they really do not enjoy showing their emotions. Especially not after what Morgana did to a continent during her first –and last- temper tantrum.” I cross my legs, and he sits up and does the same. There’s a rumble of thunder in the distance, but it isn’t close enough to make me worry about rain.

“Continue,” he looks interested so I keep going, pulling my hair over one shoulder and playing with it.

“The elves were not always as calm as they are now, and spent a great deal of their time fighting petty battles for no good reason. Morgana couldn’t bear to see her people so divided, so she called them together on the isle mortals have called Atlantis, and tried to reason with them.” I sigh and look into the sky, but go on.

“They began to fight among themselves again, so she walked to the middle of the main factions and stood between their leaders. When she asked them to stop, they refused, so she screamed and the ground began to shake. The water rose and she cast a shield around herself, while most of them were killed, but the ones who hadn’t fought and had stayed by her side were spared. The isle sank beneath the waves and Atlantis was forever cemented as the lost continent. So now, no elf dares to lose their tempers, and all of their children are taught from a young age to hold complete control over themselves.”

“It took almost two hundred years for me to master this technique, and I admit I’m not always as careful as I should be.” Ian just stares at me.

“What?”

“How old are you? Do you know the precise amount of years?” his eyes are wide.

“I don’t know,” I look away, trying not to meet his gaze. I know just about how old I am, but it’s difficult to put into a number he can grasp. The elves kept meticulous records, but there are only so many cycles one can register, and age destroys even the best of paper.

“Scarlet, is that really true?” he tries to hold my hand, but I pull away from him.

“I don’t know how old I am, and I don’t want to know. It’s hard enough trying to live without remembering how long I have walked this earth.”

“So I must really seem like nothing more than a child to you,” the bitterness in his words is not something I am unused to from people who deem age a defining factor in their lives.

“Do you really think that age matters to me? There may be a limit, even for me, as to how young a person is, but when it comes to love, you shouldn’t care. People try to find soul mates in those their own age, because it is easier to live fifty years together than five apart. Even if their significant other is twenty years older, do you really think it matters to them? Love knows no boundaries, Shakespeare knew it, Cave men knew it, and I know it.”

“My own parents couldn’t stand each other, but now they share a child. It’s not about how old you are or where you come from, or even what you like or dislike. It’s about caring enough for someone and wanting someone so badly you can’t live without them. It’s just mortals who can’t grasp this quickly enough to gain any joy from it. Ian-“I reach my hand to him and he takes it.

“No matter how wrong people tell you what you feel is, I hope you never listen to them.” I pull him close to me, my eyes level with his, and stare into them. Not into his mind, into his deep green eyes that remind me of a pond in my favourite forest on a sunny day. He runs his hand through my hair and it stops on the nape of my neck, tilting my head up ever so slightly.

And he just stares at me, calmly running his thumb over my chin. “Did I ever tell you that I thought this, us, was wrong? Have I ever even mentioned it?”

“No, but doesn’t it bug you?” I try to look down, but his hold suddenly becomes firmer and he tilts my head so I’m looking at him again.

“Why should it? I want you, you want me. What the hell does age have to do with it?” I smile at him, and he smiles in return.

“Scarlet Helena Mithra, I want you and you alone. I don’t care how old you are and how old I’m not; all I care about is being with you.”

“Is that why you can’t concentrate?”

“Don’t get off topic here; we’re having a nice moment.” He kisses me then, and we are lost to the world.

A few days after that, we are still struggling with his self-control. But his incentives are far more positive now, I put a shield over the shelf his games are on which bounces him away when he tries to touch them. The gaming centres are also behind it, so he now has no reason not to practice. His reward for his efforts is ten minutes of video games for every twenty minutes he tries.

Needless to say, he tries really, really hard now.

But he still can’t manage to keep hold of himself for more than a few moments; it’s as if he is fighting himself. Though this is not an unfamiliar feeling to me, I still can’t help him as much as I want to. This is a skill best learnt on one’s own.

So every day I am forced to watch him struggle to rein his powers in, even while being told to let them free by his teachers. I see his pain as he tries not to lose his temper at those called his peers. And his constant struggles not to hurt himself or anyone else.

Mostly though, I try to ignore the nagging in the back of my mind. I don’t know if it’s the regret of what his birthday will bring, or if it’s some premonition that doesn’t want to show itself.

But there are still moments, when we are together, when the world goes away and it’s just us. These moments are brief, but they make things bearable for the both of us.

It’s during one of these moments that Ian asks me another question about my past. One I wasn’t dreading, precisely, I was just ashamed of it. Really, really ashamed.

“Have you ever lost control?” he asks, leaning on his elbow and looking at me. Sighing, I sit up and lean against the pillows.

“Once, but it was a long time ago. I still can’t believe I did it, but I guess I did. I was very young, in elf terms, when I went into the mortal realms. I was riding through a forest, trying not to concentrate on how much Morgana was pissing me off, when a large group of men came towards me out from between the trees. The first few seemed harmless, but when the group got to about twenty, I read their minds and tried to ride away. They tried to stop me, so I kind of…lost it. It wasn’t long after the wedding debacle, and I was still nervous about behavioural traits.

“So when one grabbed my arm and the other grabbed the reins, I screamed and both of them were frozen solid. It all became a haze after that, but when I finally regained control, I’d burnt most of the trees down in a wide arc, probably stretching out as far as a rugby field.”

“The men didn’t even resemble corpses by that point, and I struggled to keep myself upright. So I called for my mother, and I was punished about a week later.”

He’s staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head again. His eyes are wide and strangely awestruck, or full of fear, it’s hard to tell. I look away from him, and stare at the painting above my fireplace again. Cassy painted it after one of the many wars I’d been in, when she had patched me up for the thousandth time. Boredom is one of the many motivations for things I do, sad but true.

Then Ian kisses my neck, and I relax, letting out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. This boy is full of surprises, but nice ones, like presents, not like wedding ones.

Weeks later, when the school breaks up for the Winter Solstice, we’re back on the roof of my tower. Ian was struggling again, so I sigh and tell him to stop, while running my hand through my hair.

“You’re going to burst a blood vessel, concentrating that hard”, I joke, and laughing at the expression he’s pulling.

“Well, some of us don’t have it as easy as you do,” he says, getting up. I turn to look over the waves, and he hugs me from behind.

“You remember that day when you told me about how you met Gabriel?” he starts fiddling with a strand of my hair.

“Yeah, what of it?” I hold his hands in mine, and squeeze. I can feel his chest move as he breathes, and his heart rate starts to quicken.

“Will you show me what it looks like when your arms are on fire?” he lets go, and I turn around, nodding my head. Breathing deeply with my eyes closed, I hold my arms out to my sides, and feel the tickling sensation of the flames running up them.

Opening my eyes, I see his surprised face as the flames reach my shoulders. Thankfully I’m wearing a sleeveless shirt again; burning my clothes is really not pleasant.

A memory of Morgana comes to mind, as she had spent many hours lecturing me as a child, usually in the company of Cassy and Declan. Mostly about ruining my many dresses and shoes with my ‘experiments’ into ‘improper behaviour’. Those lectures were always longwinded and unfounded, but it was the most time she ever spent around me in a single sitting, so I didn’t mind much.

I let the flames subside, wrapping my arms around myself again. He’s still staring at me, and I look away, tugging on my hair absentmindedly. The wind is not helping on the knot front, at all.

Ian takes my arms again, and turns my palms outwards, staring at the sun tattooed on my right wrist and the moon on my left. He traces them, but says nothing, obviously still thinking about something. I cringe inside, knowing full well how much it takes for him to just stand there after I did that. Many people run screaming from me after a demonstration, but not Ian.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he looks up, and then kisses me. One of his hands resting easily on the small of my back.

“That’s one way of saying ‘completely and utterly weird’,” I joke, and pull him closer.

“Weird? No. the best thing to ever happen to me, maybe.” He grins in that crooked way, and I kiss him on each dimple.

“If I didn’t know any better, Mr O’Connor, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

“Aren’t I allowed to flirt with my girlfriend?” he asks, moving both hands to cup my face as he stares into my eyes.

“That depends,” I mirror him. He smiles and a breeze causes one of his curls to fall into his right eye.

“On what, exactly?” he looks so sweet when he’s curious. Actually he looks sweet all the time, but right now, he’s especially adorable.

“Nothing”, I smile and kiss him again, forgetting about the world as we sink to the ground.

That night I dream that I’m lying on the grass by the great oak tree in Blacktower’s main courtyard. The sunlight seeps through the leafy canopy, and a slight breeze causes the boughs to stir. The smell of fresh cut grass and freshly turned earth envelopes me.

I sigh and turn over, facing the bench nearby. A crow is sitting on the side, but it isn’t moving. I stare at it for what feel like a few minutes, and it turns to face me, looking at me with all too human eyes. Familiar eyes, a grey, lifeless stare.

“Tristan…” I breathe. “How- why- what the-“And suddenly, I can’t move, it feels as if I’m being crushed under a ton of rocks. Those eyes hold me captive, and I can’t even fathom how to fight this.

The crow tilts its head, and the day turns, the moon is full, but red, and there are no stars. The breeze has died and the leaves rain down on me, grey and dry. A human laugh escapes the beak of the crow, his laugh. There is a stench of death and blood, rotting flesh and burnt wood.

Gasping, I sit up in my own bed, safely away from him. Or at least, I think I am. My hand is gripping at my chest, right above the heart that is racing. Brushing my hair away from my face, I try to calm down, taking even breaths and concentrating on details. Sweat trickles down the side of my face, so I wipe it with one hand while my eyes are closed.

Grey eyes…the laugh…summer’s day to cold and lifeless. Somehow, he’s taunting me from the grave, playing on my greatest fears. I sink back into the pillows, clutching at the sheets with all my strength. How is this possible? He’s been dead for millennia, nothing can free him…

The last time he’d taunted me was after he died, the night intended for our honeymoon. He’d shown me endless waterfalls of blood, silver mixed with red and blue, dead trees… I sit up straight again, dead trees. He’s planning something that’s going to destroy Blacktower, and me. He’s wanted nothing else since the day I killed him and denied him his thirst for more power.

The thought that gets to me the most is knowing that, somehow, that vile son of a demon has broken free of his deathly bonds and is planning something. Or maybe I’m going crazy…it wouldn’t be the first time.

I get out of bed, and tug my band t-shirt down over my plaid boxer shorts. I need to sketch this, and call my mother. I don’t even bother with the stairs; I just sink through the floor into my workroom. I summon a sketch pad and drawing materials. The fire is lit single thought and I take down my crystal ball, gently cradling it in one hand.

Setting the sketch pad on my knees, and the ball on the table next to my armchair, I draw everything I saw. The red sky behind the crow, the grey leaves and the pool of blood growing around me. I also draw the first scene, with the grass, the soil, the sunlight. When I finish I put my hand on the ball, hoping my mother will answer.

“What is it, Scarlet?” she growls, her face barely visible.

“I had a premonition again,” I say, tugging on a strand of hair.

“Of what? Was it about Ian?” she suddenly seems a lot more interested, and a light forms, lighting up the face so like my own. She’s sitting up in bed, her hair all over the place and her night dress sagging off of one shoulder.

I wave my hand, and the sketches disappear, materialising on the foot of the bed. “Those are all the details I could remember, I think-“

“Who is the crow?” she interjects, holding the top picture of the pile. Being an Oracle herself, she knows most of the common symbols. Which is why I contacted her instead of Marcus, I do not need to deal with another of his temper tantrums right now,

“I think its Tristan.” She shrieks and drops the sketch, as if it burnt her. The sketch does seem to smoke a little, though her hand seems fine.

“Are you completely sure?” she’s looking me up and down, trying to see if I’ve lost my mind no doubt.

“Yes, mother, the crow laughed at me. It sounded just like he did, on that night-“I shudder, Goosebumps rising on my skin. That laugh has haunted me on more than one occasion, usually during my ‘suicidal’ periods.

“I have to warn the High Council then. We need to figure out how on earth he got out of Hades’ realms, and how we are going to stop him.” She hangs up without another word, and I’m left on my own, in front of a fire with my mind running in circles.

If I had a soul mate, this would be a little easier, I think to myself. Someone to comfort me when shit like this happens and I can’t calm down.

In my world, and all those of the Originals, finding a soul mate is sort of like the werewolf deal. Except, you get bound for eternity to someone, and there is no way of getting out of it save for dying. Now, Wilhelm and Amelia had been tied for as long as I could remember, as had Vladimir and Svetlana. But Hecate and my parents were evidently meant to be alone, Hades had a soul mate, but she left him, which could explain his bitterness. My birth was such a shock, because the Originals were only meant to have kids when they found their ‘other half’. Then again, a group of adults frozen at the age of twenty usually do stupid things, like have kids.

No one is really sure about my parents being bound, but they seem to be able to cope without each other, so we all doubt it. Marcus and Morgana could never combine their realms, after all, seeing as the Elementals and Fey had been in a ‘disagreement’ since before I was conceived. And true love is a little hard to believe with them, or me, for that matter.

Going to one of my bookshelves, I put my arm through a gap and open a small hidden door to pull out my vodka. Grabbing a glass I go back out and stand by the armchair. I freeze the bottle, and put the glass down on the table.

I pour a shot of vodka and sink into the armchair, settling myself in for a long night. I am capable of altering time, but it’s a lot of effort, so I’ll have to live through the fatigue with the help of coffee and energy siphoning. The booze usually helps to fall asleep, but not with this kind of mental taxing.

Pulling out my new iPad, I flip through the apps and settle on some good, old-fashioned Tetris. After a few hours, the grey morning light filters through the window, signalling a new day and a wasted night. I sigh, and decide to go bath, putting my iPad on the desk and levitate through my floor. I flick my hand and the water starts running, another flick and my hair stuff appears.

“May as well wash my hair,” I mutter, getting in. Before I know it, two hours have passed and every part of my skin aches from scrubbing. I sigh and get out, wrapping a towel around myself so that I can go waste time picking clothes.

“Black jeans…more black jeans…black skirt…another black skirt…black dress, not happening.” I grip the towel so it stays tight around my chest and pull out a pair of leggings with tattoo-like flames up the legs. I hold them up against me in the mirror, and dump them on a chair. I then walk over to my shirts and start scratching around for one that will be long enough to hang over my ass.

“Time for undies,” I mutter. Dumping the dark grey shirt with studs around the neck on top of the jeans. Flicking my hand, I make a black bra and undies appear under the towel. For some reason, I have twelve different deodorants, so I spend about five minutes deciding on one and then on a body spray for my clothes. Sleep deprivation does bad things to my mind.

When I’ve finally pulled on the leggings and shirt, I decide to spend some quality time with my hair. I’m going to put mousse in it, brush it, style it, and spray hairspray all over it. You know, just go for the entire effect.

So I walk back into my bathroom and get all my hair crap and dump it on the dressing table. I also get out my hair dryer and brushes, it’s not like I’m a complete barbarian. It used to take hours to do my hair when I was younger, before I learnt how much help magic could be. And what happened when I didn’t use some of the energy I was constantly pulling from my surroundings.

After making sure my head was covered in hair styling stuff, I started to blow dry it. When it’s semi-straight I move to the straightener, pulling it through my hair until I look like the proper little elf girl my mother never had. I spray it quickly (my curls hate being contained), using an entire can of extra-super-whatever hold on it. When I check my internal clock, it’s finally a reasonable hour to go and wake Ian.

I pull on my boots and flash into his living room, opening the curtains before flinging his bedroom doors wide open. “Good morning sunshine!” I yell, standing at the foot of his bed.

“It’s not morning yet,” he mumbles, hiding his face sleepily in the pillow.

“Unfortunately it is my dear mage, now get up, I’m bored” I say, flinging the rest of his curtains open and pulling his bedding off, leaving it floating in mid-air.

He groans and sits up, hair all over the place. He rubs his eyes and rolls off the side. “You are a horrible person, Scarlet.”

“Sadly, I’m also your girlfriend,” I say, dropping his bedding and making it rearrange itself neatly. I sit on top of his bed and cross my knees, admiring my combat boots while I wait for him to get dressed. “And if you fall asleep in that shower I swear I will do worse than turn you into Frankenstein’s monster,” I yell.

“Oh bugger off, you’re too cheerful for this early in the morning,” he yells back.

“And to think I was going to suggest that we take a little day trip out of school today,” I say, feigning disappointment. “But I’m meant to bugger off so-“Ian walks out of his bathroom, rubbing a towel over his hair with his left hand gripping the one around his waist.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” he says, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. I look away, pretending to be offended, and he walks over to me. Leaning down, he puts his hand on my chin and tilts my head up, but just stares at me. I raise an eyebrow and lean backwards, so he lets go. I stare up at the canopy of his bed, ignoring him as he walks around, getting dressed and combing through his hair.

When he’s finally done I sit up from my position on the bed, and I look him over. His black t-shirt and dark blue jeans nicely cling to all the muscles of his body. Mages have it so easy; they couldn’t be fat even if they tried. It was something to do with the large amounts of magic burning up all extra fat or energy. Making Ian have the body of a model, without any of the work.

I get up, smooth down my shirt and walk over to him. Wrapping an arm around his neck, I stare deep into his eyes as his arms encircle my waist. He tugs on the longest strands of my hair, which hang just above my ass when straightened. “What did you do to your hair?” he asks his mouth a hair’s breadth away from my ear.

“I got bored, so I straightened it,” I reply, shivers running up and down my spine. I can feel it as he inhales appreciatively, and sighs happily. But I put my hands on his shoulders and push him away. “But seriously, we need to leave now if we want to get back before sundown.”

He looks at me, sort of confused, but I just shake my head and walk up the stairs to my room. I turn to make sure he’s following and stand in the middle of my workroom. I hold my hands out to Ian, and he grips them tightly. With a devilish smile, I close my eyes and concentrate on where I want to be.

He gasps as we materialise in the midst of an old building, on the balcony between two elaborate staircases. The marble could do with a bit of polishing, and there is a definite need of dusting, but other than that it looks exactly the same as it did almost five hundred years ago.

Letting go of Ian, I smooth down my top again and walk down the left staircase, waving my hands over everything. The dust disappears and the floors sparkle, all of the artworks gleam, especially the one above the balcony where Ian is still standing. His jaw is hanging wide open, and the look of complete wonder makes him seem so innocent. Which he is, in a way, his birthday may be in less than two months, but that doesn’t erase the obvious difference in our ages.

I look back to him, and his head finally drops. Motioning with my hand for him to follow, I walk to the front door and pull one side open. I take his hand and slip through, switching the fountain on with a stray thought. Ian looks even more awestruck, causing me to giggle uncontrollably.

“What?” he asks, frowning. I put my hand to his cheek and shake my head, laughter bubbling up again. Fighting the urge to kiss the furrow between his eyebrows, I take a deep breath and squeeze his hand.

“Nothing,” I smile innocently at him, and pull him further out of the door. “Would you like to see the gardens?” He nods, and i lead the way, weaving between the hedges, perfectly preserved with magic. The garden looks frozen, almost as if it’s still the sixteenth century. The statues still gleam, and the fountains begin to trickle as we walk past. Eventually we stop next to one of the lawns, and he turns back to look at it all.

Ian seems so lost in it all, but so full of wonder that I feel the urge to take a picture. Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket as discreetly as I can, I open the camera and point it at him. Before he can notice, I snap three shots. After the third beep, he finally snaps out of it and lunges toward my phone. Laughing I make it disappear, showing my hands in the age-old gesture of surrender.

He tackles me, and we fall laughing on the lawn. Ian starts tickling me, until I flash out from under him, clutching at my sides. He looks down and back up, that adorably confused look all over his face. When he spots me, he visibly relaxes, and I start laughing all over again.

“You don’t play fair at all,” he calls out, running towards me.

“Why play fair when the other person probably won’t?” I ask, standing straight. “Fighting is usually never black and white anyway, and the winner usually holds the only version of events.”

Ian raises an eyebrow, stopping just in front of me. “Not much of an optimist, are you?” he asks, looking me up and down. If I’d been any other teenage girl, I would have blushed, but I wasn’t (thank the stars).

“Nope, but I know of one thing that makes me happy and that’s the next best thing, right?” I grin at him and spin on my heel, heading for the former stables. I can sense him shaking his head as he follows, obviously curious. When we reach the doors, I fling them open, revealing my trusty Ferrari.

“How many Ferraris do you own?” he asks, as he puts on his seatbelt.

“As many as they’ll sell to me,” is my reply, as I rev the engine and let down the top. There’s nothing like a drive through the Italian countryside on a cool winter morning. Most people would think that summer would be better, with all the fields ablaze, but I love the empty landscape, waiting on bated breath for the spring.

As we sped down the narrow road towards Venice, I couldn’t help grinning like a demented cat. A normal day, albeit in Italy, with my normal boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be a nice change from every other crappy day of high school, if there was one thing I could not stand about school, it would be the large hordes of vile teenagers. I could barely get along with people of my actual age, let alone the ones who looked my age.

I shake my head, and Ian rests his hand on my arm, probably concerned. I sneak a peek at him, and he looks worried, so I shake my head and concentrate on the road. Eventually his hand moves, and I feel a little disappointed, but we’re nearing the city limits, so it doesn’t matter.

I park the car just outside the walls, hiding it under a blanket of magic and a few spells that will repel any curious humans. Ian takes my hand, and I look up at him in surprise, but he just looks suggestively at me, so I resign myself to it. We take the ferry into the city, looking like nothing more than love-struck teenagers.

Once we reach the centre, I pull Ian in a random direction, making my way through the hordes of Italians and tourists. I can almost hear Ian’s neck creaking as he tries to look everywhere at once. The canals stink, as usual, but walking over the bridges is still as magical as ever. They smelt even worse during the fifteenth century, mostly from the human waste and drowning victims.

We eventually find one of the many restaurants in the city, and sit down. A waiter brings menus and Ian holds my hand until we place our orders. As magical beings, languages are never a problem, but I can tell it’s his first time using this particular talent. The only language mages ever struggle with is the Original tongue, but that’s just because of the complexity. It cannot simply be understood, so most don’t bother, I have yet to test Ian’s ability at it. Though he should be able to grasp it easily, most of the First Generation (the children of the Originals with other Originals) have a natural affinity for it.

“So, Miss Evans, what shall we be doing today?” he asks, as we wait. Both of our hands are intertwined, and Ian’s thumb is making little circles on top of my skin. For once, I sigh with contentment instead of frustration or resignation, it’s a nice change.

When we‘ve finished eating, I get to my feet and hold my hand out to Ian, putting a few Euros under one of the plates, with an ample tip for the waiter. I smooth down my shirt and lead Ian through the many streets, watching his face fill with surprise once again.

We spend hours just walking around, eating varied flavours of gelato and holding hands. Every few minutes we’d peck each other on the lips, or share long, lingering kisses. The day was as close to perfect as I’d ever know, and it was only noon.

We reached one of the older canals –the main one-, so I decided to hire a boat. We’d seen accompany a little way up, so we walked back, still holding hands. “Wait here,” I said, and walked over to the place. When everything was paid for and arranged, I walked back to Ian and held out the keys.

“We have to take it back by five,” I say, holding out the keys to him.

“Am I driving?” he asks, looking puzzled. I nod, and he grins from ear to ear as I point to our boat, it’s a new sleek motorboat, with wood trim and a few seats. Ian jumps in and holds his hand to me; I get in gracefully, remembering the days when I would almost drown my skirts if I stepped wrong. Thankfully, those days were long gone; I’d hated wearing the stupid things with a passion.

He starts up the boat and neatly pulls out of the berth, after I untie it from the moorings. He speeds out of the city, and starts pulling tricks in the middle of the lake. The wind ripples through my hair, and I start laughing from the adrenaline.

He looks so happy and carefree, and I realise with a jolt what would happen if Tristan found out about him. He would probably kill Ian, either out of jealously or simple cruelty, probably to make me suffer. Even though I’d killed him, I knew he still thought of me as his fiancé, ten thousand years on. He was just like their father in that regard.

When Ian stopped the boat I looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head and sank into one of the seats. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” he says, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, hunched forward.

I feel a pang, deep in my chest, remembering just how hard his life has been. Mages can’t lie, even to their children, so he must have known since he was old enough to ask, that he wasn’t the child of the people he lived with. I knew exactly how alone he must have felt, though we differed slightly in details, our parents had abandoned us from a young age.

Though Morgana had shown me a little kindness and affection, I’d been virtually disowned by my father. Elementals are not very considerate people; they are controlled by their emotions, so I’d been let alone for most of my existence. Even when I needed them, in my greatest times of need, neither Morgana nor Marcus had ever bothered with me.

Just look at what happened with Tristan, I’d told them so often that I had had horrible premonitions of what would happen if we were married, but they’d ignored me flat out. It may have been my youth, but they obviously thought very little of me. It still stung, even after almost ten thousand years, because they still did not care much for me. But I had long since given up on ever wanting affection or understanding from either of them.

Ian was definitely lucky to have a mother like Hecate, she would always be caring and affectionate, and it was just her nature. She wasn’t much older than I, but she had much more love in her heart. I guess being able to have emotions played a huge role in that.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and became completely fascinated by my boots so I wouldn’t have to look at Ian. I could see his hand reaching toward me, so I abruptly pulled away, and stood up to take the wheel of the boat.

“I think we should get back now,” I say, and turn the engine on, and make a beeline for Venice as the sun begins to set over the city. I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck, but he doesn’t move, so I concentrate on the horizon.

When we reach the main canal, I turn towards the rental place while slowing down slightly. When we reach the dock, I quickly secure the boat and yank out the keys, leaving Ian to heave himself out the boat as I hop up onto the dock. I hand them back and get my deposit, motioning to the cashier that the boat is perfectly fine.

Ian is standing a little ways away, with his hands in his pockets, waiting for me. I walk past him, knowing he’ll follow, and go into one of the old buildings. I take his hands, and close my eyes, flashing back into my tower.

Hastily letting go, I back away from him, rubbing my elbow nervously. “Thank you for coming with me,” I say, barely audible.

“It was fun,” he says, confusion visible. He turns toward the door to his own sitting room, but stops. “What happened?’

“Nothing,” I say, and walk to the spiral staircase. “I just need to be alone for a while.” He nods, slightly, and walks to the door quickly. He yanks it open, and turns to look back at me before he walks down the stairs, closing it behind him.

I sigh with relief, and collapse onto the floor. “What am I going to do?” I breathe.

~Ian~

It’s been almost a week since Scarlet took me to Venice; we’d been having such a good time until she freaked out on me. I don’t know if it’s anything I did, but she’s been avoiding me. She hasn’t been to a single class, not even Astronomy.

I’d been trying to talk to her, but she sealed the door between our rooms, and I couldn’t get her to come down to the other one. I don’t know what to do, and I’m starting to worry.

My ‘peers’ have started noticing her absence, especially Victoria and her group of minions. For some reason, since the day I got here, she hasn’t left me alone except when Scarlet’s around. It may be her jealously at my power, or she’s just a childish little girl in need of attention. Either way, I was close to bashing her head in with a rock.

When the dinner gong finally rang, I made my way to the dining hall with my earphones in; I did not want to hear the whispers. As I got my food, I turned to see that there was an empty table in the farthest corner from her table, so I went and sat down. As my song changed, a nail tapped on my shoulder and I looked up.

Stella Michelson waved at me, and indicated that I pull out one of the buds. As I did, she started talking, pulling on her hair nervously. “Hey Ian, I was wondering if you would like to sit with me and my friends. It’s just, you look so lonely and we felt bad, so would you?” the words gush out of her mouth and she yanks her hair again.

“Uh, sure,” I say, getting up.

“Awesome,” she blushes and spins on her heel. “Follow me!” she’s basically skipping now, and I roll my eyes. She leads the way to one of the booths and motions to the empty spot in front of her as she sits down. I put down my tray and pause my music, pulling out the other earphone.

“Everyone, this is Ian. Ian, this is Emily, Seth, Beth and Adam.” They all nod my way and continue their conversation. Stella starts pulling on her hair again, and I continue eating. Suddenly, they all fall silent, and stare at me.

“What?” I ask, my fork hovering in mid-air.

“What’s it like, being around Scarlet Evans?” one of the guys asks, I vaguely remember that his name is Adam, his sandy blonde hair falling into his dull green eyes.

“Uh, well…she’s kind of- normal.” I rub the back of my neck, avoiding their stares.

“Isn’t she, like, really powerful?” Beth asks, with her elbows on the table, obviously fascinated, her brown eyes focusing on me. She has black hair, almost like Scarlet’s, but it isn’t the same.

“Well, yeah, but she can control it.” I really just want to get out of here; they’re making me feel uncomfortable.

“Aren’t ye datin’ her, or somethin’?” the one named Emily asks, with a definite Scottish accent and bright red hair. Blacktower is one of the few mage schools in the world, meaning that most of the students come from places as far away as Australia and Japan.

“Yeah,” I can feel myself beginning to blush, so I dump my cutlery on the tray, and slide out of the booth. “I have to uh- go study now, this was…interesting,” I say, making my escape. As I walk away I think I hear Emily saying “He’s a weird one, that Ian.” I duck my head and dump the unfinished food in the bin and slam the tray on the rack. I almost run out of the room, and make my way to the one place no one can judge me.

Why the hell do I miss her so much…I think to myself as I open the door. I turn on the lights and pick up the remote to my CD player from the coffee table. I turn it to some random mix and put down the remote again, flopping onto the floor. It’s going to be a long night.

~Scarlet~

I’ve been working on a solution for the Tristan problem for almost a week, and I keep coming up empty. So I head to the gym to work out my frustrations, and my tension. As I demolish another training dummy, I hear the door opening, but I just keep going, the sweat is trickling down my neck, and I can feel whoever it is staring at me.

“State your business of get out-“I say, turning around but stopping in midsentence. I drop the broadsword in shock, and the metal clangs as it hits the floor. “Gabriel…”

“Hey Scar, long time no see,” he smiles crookedly, with his hands in his pockets and walks towards me. I back away, and pick the sword up.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here?’ I ask, gripping the sword’s hilt tightly in my right hand. He chuckles and stops a few steps away from me.

“I heard about your new…friend,” he says, mischief glinting in his hazel eyes. “And, seeing as I was in the neighbourhood, I thought I’d drop by and see for myself. He’s the son of Hecate and Hades, right?” His eyes travel around the room, finally coming to a rest on me. I suddenly feel very exposed in my black tank top and black leggings. My bare toes curl on the floor nervously, and I pull my fingers through my hair with my free hand.

Spinning on my heel, I place the broadsword on the rack, and get a towel. I rub my face, turning to look at Gabriel once more. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, at least, not after Italy.”

“You have obviously moved on, so I saw no point in keeping to Hades’ oath. I mean, he’s probably forgotten by now, what with finding his son.” He shrugs, and walks closer to me, but I move away. “You’ve changed, Scar, I like it.” His hand reaches for mine, but I pull away, grimacing.

“Don’t” I say, and drape the towel over my neck. ’I do not need this crap right now,” I walk to the door, but his werewolf speed causes him to beat me to it.

“Twenty years together and now you can’t stand me? Oh, Scarlet, you wound me, you truly do.” He feigns a hurt expression, but all I feel is a burning sensation in my midsection. He used to give me butterflies, now all I want to do is wipe that smirk off of his face.

“You seemed to be able to walk away just fine last time, so why don’t you give it another go?” I say as I push past him. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back, wrapping his arms around me. “Let go of me you filthy mutt,” I spit at him.

“Scarlet…” he brushes a curl from my forehead, “I’ve missed you.” I scoff and flash out of his arms.

“Missed me, my ass. You just can’t stand the fact that I’ve moved on, and that he’s a mage. You’re just the acting Commander of a bunch of animals. You could never stand not having your own way, especially when it came to me.” I lean against a column just outside the door, crossing my arms and smirking. “You are so predictable, wolf.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your ‘soul mate’, dearest Scarlet?” he asks. Attempting to walk forward, but I hold up my hand, and he can’t move.

“You and I were never meant to be, Gabriel. It may have taken me a few hundred years, but I realise now that you are no more than a passing fancy. A fickle romance that was nothing more to me than what it was. Granted, you would have died if you hadn’t tricked Hades, but that is of no import now.”

“So you would choose the son of your greatest enemy over me,” the jealously in his eyes makes me want to laugh, but I keep a straight face. “You loved me, and you know it.”

“Key word here ‘loved’,” I say, flipping my hair. “But fleeting romances have no room in my present, and neither do you.” I spin on my heel and walk away, only releasing him as I round the furthest corner.

“You can never forget me!” he yells, completely frustrated and no longer attractive to me. I sigh with relief and walk back to my rooms, but stop in front of Ian’s door. I haven’t spoken to him in over a week…I think. But I need to think, I can’t see him yet.

I continue on my way and open my own door. Looking down the hall before shaking my head and walking through. When I reach my work room, I go to my vodka hiding spot and pull it out. Once more, I freeze the bottle and sit in the armchair, taking huge gulps.

My chest hurts, and I can’t fathom why. So I drink until my vision is blurry and flash into my bed.

That night, I dream that I’m sleeping with Gabriel, but his face keeps changing, first to Ian, then back, alternating multiple times until I’m shocked awake by the feeling of someone trying to get through my shield.

Blearily, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch. The feeling increases, so I sigh and get up, magically dressing myself before flashing to the base of my tower. I yank open the door, and am assaulted by bright light.

“Scarlet!” a voice yells, and I squint. But my vision is blocked by a bunch of red roses, and I peer around them only to be confronted by Gabriel’s face. I groan and lean against the doorframe.

“What in the name of all that is unholy do you want?” I ask, shielding my eyes. He puts down the roses and tries to hug me, but I shy away.

“I am so sorry for the way I acted last night, it was completely unwarranted. I brought you some chocolates and roses as an apology,” he say, pushes both back into my arms. I hold them gingerly, but I don’t move.

“Uh, thanks, I’ll, um, see you later?” I say, slamming the door shut. I flash into my workroom and flick my hand to start a fire. I look at the roses with disgust and throw them on top, but I keep the chocolates. “At least he paid attention to one thing,” I mutter, walking into my kitchen.

Opening the fridge, I pull out a bottle of orange juice and uncap it. Taking a huge gulp I write an order for food on a note and place it on a gold platter on the small table. Almost seconds later a white, porcelain plate appears piled with bacon, eggs, and French fries.

I take the plate and orange juice and go to sit in front of the fireplace. Shovelling a few chips into my mouth, I put the cool bottle against my forehead. I haven’t been this hung-over since…two years ago. I finish my food and sit back, the headache fast disappearing.

I sigh and realise, kind of late, that I haven’t seen nor spoken to Ian for over a week. I jump up and wipe my mouth, then smooth my shirt and hair. I walk over to the door and pull it open, hearing the sound of Indie music growing louder as I approach the foot of the stairs.

When I fling open the door, I find Ian lying in the middle of the floor, fast asleep. I flick my hand, and the music stops. I kneel next to him and shake him, and he wakes with a jolt. Then I sit back on my haunches, watching as he rubs his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.

“Morning sunshine,” I say, and he turns to face me. His eyes are bloodshot, and his breath stinks. He looks so sad, so I wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He stiffens, but eventually warms to it, deepening the kiss as he shifts to face me.

When I let go, he looks a bit better, but I can tell something is seriously wrong. “Are you okay?” I ask, completely aware that I sound really worried. The music has gotten unbearably loud, so I flick my hand and switch off the system.

Ian gets to his feet, so I sit back properly and cross my legs as he walks around, opening curtains and brushing through his hair with his fingers. When he finally stops, he’s standing back from me, I’m pretty sure my face falls because he looks guilty.

Resting my head on my knees, I stare at him, making him visibly nervous. He crouches down and stares at his hands, his hair falling into his eyes. When I sigh and look away, he finally looks at me.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” the question comes out suddenly, as if he’s been holding it in for a while. My head whips around and I look at him, dumbfounded.

“I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy-“I move to get up, but realise that he’s actually mad at me, so I stay where I am.

“Busy with what?” he snaps at me. Taken aback, my mouth drops open and I feel a pang of shame. I can feel him glaring, but I refuse to meet his glare.

“A large problem was brought to my attention, and I’ve been struggling to find a solution for it…” I trail off, his stare is becoming uncomfortable.

“So why couldn’t you tell me? I mean, I would have understood if it was council business and everything.” He walks a bit closer, but stops again. “You locked me out, literally and figuratively, which is my biggest problem right now.” He rubs the back of his neck, hunching his shoulders forward as if he’s defeated. I quickly get to my feet and reach to him, testing his reaction.

“I didn’t mean for it to take this long, and I’m sorry that you felt-“I pause, not knowing exactly how he feels, he doesn’t seem all that emotional.

“I felt lonely, and frustrated, but last night, I realised that it didn’t matter. I still want you; it just annoyed me that you didn’t tell me. I could have helped…” I look away from him, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of guilt.

“I’ve never spoken of Council business to anyone who is not a member of it. This entire relationship is so new to me that I didn’t even consider telling you, because I am not used to having someone to confide in. I’ve never even involved Cassy, because it isn’t something she can handle.” He sighs in frustration and plonks onto the couch, his head in his hands.

I want to comfort him, but something is holding me back, physically holding me back. “How are you doing this?”

He looks up, “Doing what?” the puzzlement is real, but when he focuses, the feeling is gone.

“You held me back, with magic…” The only thought I have now is surprise, and dread. Normal magical beings, when they come of age, usually only grow in power to a certain extent. The First Immortal children, those of us born to two Originals, inherit far more. When I came of age, the Council thought it was simply a once-off thing. But the same happened to Vladimir’s daughter and Wilhelm’s son. Though not actual magic-wielding beings, they could control others of their kind not of the trademark silver Original blood.

It was a strange phenomenon, one yet to be explained, but the High Council predicted that Ian’s power could actually rival my own. At this moment, I could see that they were right. I have been undefeated, both in hand-to-hand and magical combat, for as long as I’ve been alive.

Save for the one weakness none but the Originals knew of, the weakness Hades so willingly exploited at any opportunity. It had never been documented, nor even spoken about, so it could never be used against me, except by the Lord of the Dead.

But the fact that Ian could hold me back, without a conscious thought, showed great promise for his future abilities. We weren’t sure what he could actively control, but he definitely had a lot of magic available to him, if Hecate’s standards were anything to go by.

Though she had begun her life as a human, she was one of the few who could harness the magical fields of this planet. When it was clear that she could control the majority of her kind, the rest of the High Council had agreed to give her a place, if she so wished.

For thousands of years the Immortal races lived in peace with the humans, but our time slowly came to an end when they began to doubt us. Hecate was one of the last to withdraw from the realm, her compassionate nature leading to the eruption of Vesuvius. She cared deeply for all of her subjects, and so, her son.

Ian was just like her, if not in looks but in character. I felt guilt wash over me as the silence between us grew, his eyes seeming to never stop glaring at me.

“I’m sorry…” the words whisper out of my mouth, and I hang my head in shame. His arms wrap around me suddenly, and I sag into him. “After Venice, I realised that I wanted to protect you, so I spent hours on end discussing with the Council, trying to figure out a way to keep you safe.”

“When I told you about Tristan, I neglected to mention exactly who his mother was and why everyone is so afraid of him.” I leans back, his gaze searching mine for any hint of what I’m going to say next. “You know about Demons and Angels, and the Judaist beliefs, right?” he nods with his hands firmly wrapped around my arms.

“Tristan’s mother was a demon, but not just any demon. She was one of the first, born out of man’s greed and lust. Though Judaist scripture claims she was the first wife of the first man-“here I roll my eyes, people could be so ridiculous when it came to their beliefs. I mean, for thousands of years they worshipped me, which was mildly flattering, but still. “Either way, she met Hades and they had a ‘romance’, and Tristan appeared. He was only a few months younger than me, and that’s why we were set up to be married. But after his death, his mother left Hades, and he has never forgiven me for causing it.”

“Who was Tristan’s mother?” he looks confused, and I really don’t want to say her name.

“Lilith.” He looks shocked, but that slowly morphs into amusement. ’You’re kidding, right? The Lilith? Are you sure you have the right person?” I roll my eyes but I nod.

“She is really his mother, though none of us have seen neither hide nor hair of her for thousands of years. Which brings me to another point…” I bite my lip and look away, dreading telling him about my vision. I turn back to see him waiting for me to continue.

“Tristan, somehow, is back from the dead. And we think he might try to kill me, or you.” He lets go of me suddenly, his face completely blank, his skin pales considerably, even for an Irishman.

“What, what is it? Have you seen him? Ian, tell me!” I shake his shoulders, but he doesn’t respond. “Ian!”

“I- I- I-“he starts mumbling, rocking back and forth. Please don’t tell me he’s a Seer on top of everything else, I think to myself, I don’t need this right now. His eyes roll back in his head, and he starts to shake uncontrollably. When my hand touches his bare skin, I pull back with a jolt. Tristan’s face flashed through my sub-consciousness, and I reel backwards.

“Ian! Snap out of it!” I start to panic, hitting him in the chest and mentally screeching for help. For the first time in years, I contact people with my mind. One person specifically, a Seer of great reputation, my mother.

Morgana, please! I need your help, immediately, I scream at her, my eyes never leaving him.

What’s wrong? Is he injured, are you injured? she replies hastily, I can tell she’s extremely concerned.

He’s having a vision or an epileptic fit, I can’t tell which. He keeps shaking and muttering, and there’s a silver sheen to his eyes. I send her a mental image, grateful for the many hours she forced me to practice as a child. Please help me…

I will be there soon; I just need to get a few things. But you need to turn him on his side, and put something in his mouth, even Seers bite off their own tongues. She sends me a reassuring feeling, a weird experience for the most part.

After a few moments, I feel a shift in the room and Morgana materialises, holding a bag of only the gods know what. Possibly a ’Starter Kit for Seers”, because she immediately pulls out a crystal ball and holds it above him. It starts to glow and images begin to project over him.

“Wha- what’s happening?” I murmur, transfixed by the colourful display of disjointed threads of the future. I have experienced a few visions in my life, but this is something completely different. Ian has been unconscious for almost ten minutes, a rarity even among the most powerful of the Oracles, including my mother.

Somehow, the colours slowly fade, and Ian begins to come to. I sigh with relief and collapse backwards, holding my head.

“He’s not out of the woods yet, Scarlet. There’s worse to come in the next few days. He will experience more flashes, but they won’t last as long as this one. You will need to watch him constantly, and I mean, constantly.” She stretches her arms and moves the bag to the top of the coffee table.

She starts unpacking it, when it’s finally empty; she picks up a weird bracelet that begins to glow the longer she touches it. “This is a vision detector; it may help to warn him when a vision is due to occur. It’s accurate up to twenty minutes, so make sure he never takes it off.”

“And I’m going to speak to the headmaster so that he doesn’t have to attend school until he can control it. You may have to wait for over a week for them to stop, so try to keep him relaxed and occupied, okay?”

“Yes, mother,” I get up and she suddenly hugs me. I’ve never been close to my parents, so any affection both freaks me out and warms my heart. I stiffen, and eventually she lets go. For once, my mother is being kind to me without having anyone nearby. “Thank you for helping him,” I say, meaning it with every part of my being.

She pats my arm, and makes to leave, her white dress flowing out behind her as she steps through to her own realm. She looks back at me for one last time, and leaves.