Feather: Book One Read online

  “How is this…” stammering, I forced myself to find the words, I couldn’t understand what was happening. “How is this here?”

  Edgar finally spoke, “No one can see this, only you and I know it’s here.” His chest rose with excitement, still watching me with a nervous eye.

  “But I didn’t know it was here,” I retorted as I looked up toward the giant crystal chandelier that hung over my head and the spiraling stairs on either side of me.

  “Something inside you did,” he said frankly. “Come in, let us sit for a while, get better acquainted and I’ll show you around your house,” his familiar personality returned and his smile was brilliant and alive, as though finding the one thing his heart always desired. Together we turned, traveling deeper into the depth of the house.

  HOME

  “Here you are,” Edgar thrust a cool glass of water toward me.

  “There’s even plumbing?” I asked in a mocking tone.

  He tilted his head at me, giving me a disdainful look, “Very funny Elle.” He gulped down his water in three swallows. “So nothing about this seems familiar?” He ventured with curiosity, setting his glass down on a nearby table. “Does it?”

  I shook my head, guilt filling my body. I could see how much he needed me, how much he had missed whomever I was.

  “Oh,” his eyes fell. He sat next to me on an ancient looking chaise lounge in what appeared to be the sitting room. He leaned his body across the back, his muscles flexing through his tight fitting shirt.

  The walls were thick with elegant deep red wallpaper and there were objects of all kinds cluttered across it. The large collection of clocks all around the house was mind boggling, from every age of life. There were paintings and pictures and rows upon rows of dusty bookshelves filled with centuries of literature.

  I stood as he leaned his head against his hand, watching my every move. I walked to a shelf across the room. There was a small window in the wall and I noticed it looked through to what looked like a library. I turned my gaze back to the shelf in front of me, sidestepping as I ran my hand along the velvety wood.

  There were objects from all over the world, from really old looking Chinese fans, to small tribal looking masks. There was a framed bit of ancient looking newspaper and as I squinted, I was barely able to make out ‘Salem Witch Trials’ typed in faded ink across the top. I looked at Edgar and he smirked.

  “Yeah, I just thought it was funny, humans, so paranoid.” He looked amused, as though he’d looked at it every day for years, each time finding it funnier than before. I finally rounded the room in its entirety, feeling more like I’d visited a museum than the living room of a house I’d lived in my past life. At last satisfied that I’d seen enough I sat back on the lounge, making sure to keep my distance.

  All the subtle ticking from the clocks were making me anxious. “Edgar?” Saying his name broke the silence of the room and he turned to me, his face angelic behind his sharp features. “If you don’t age, and I do, what will happen?”

  He laughed with an abrupt hoot. “You don’t age either,” he said directly, “at least, not once you get your soul back you won’t.” He looked relaxed and content, “You will change Elle, if you think you’re pretty now,” he paused, looking at me in my entirety, “which I happen to think you’re gorgeous, just wait until you see yourself later, you’ll be simply breathtaking, your body will return to its original form, the form in which you were designed.”

  I looked down at my body, the red sweatshirt Isabelle had picked for me was hardly the most attractive or revealing outfit to be wearing. I looked at Edgar’s effortless style and the way it made him look only further appealing. He had one leg hitched halfway onto the chair and one arm thrown over the back of the chase, his other hand resting on his leg with his strong fingers spread. I squinted at a strange indentation on his left hand ring finger, but quickly glanced away in my fear to realize what it was.

  I rolled the thought of eternal beauty in my head, shamelessly wishing I could have the same effortless appeal. I already didn’t put very much, if any effort into my looks, but what would it be like to then look flawless and breathtaking, like Edgar always had?

  I nodded, a dumbfounded look on my face, if I was never supposed to age then how did I die in the first place? I looked at Edgar, puzzled. “But then how was I even born a second time? I mean, that probably means I died then right? And if I was designed as an adult, then why was I ever a baby?”

  My heart suddenly raced as he lifted the hand he’d had spread across the back of the lounge, reaching toward me and touching a wisp of hair that had escaped from my knot and twirling it in his fingers. His scent wafted to my nostrils with delight and I breathed deep, “You weren’t really born, at least not the way you’d think.”

  He leaned in closer, my body now rigid. He tilted his head into the contours of my neck, just under my chin. His warm breath fell across my collar bone and my limbs froze. His lips were just a breath away from touching my skin and I shivered. I could feel his body heat as his head hovered close to mine. Slowly, without grazing my skin, he reached his opposite arm around my neck, grabbing my hair and tenderly pulling it out of its messy knot, allowing it to tumble down my back. He laced his hands into it, pulling it back and flipping it over my other shoulder to further expose the skin on my neck.

  He then whispered, tickling my skin, “When you died, eventually you were re-born.” He dropped my hair and pulled away, somehow content with the new level he had brought us. His eyes were a dangerous shade of navy and his breathing was hot as though burning with death.

  I was hanging on his every word, my cheeks blushing from his welcomed closeness, my rebellious side pressing his self-control. I watched him as he sat there. “How did I die though?” My thoughts were racing, the way he smelled, his beautiful face, it was all so amazing.

  His eyes turned to mine, “You killed yourself to save me, to save us.” His voice was velvety smooth as he took a few deep breaths, still struggling to maintain his composure after getting so close.

  I carefully ran my hand through my hair, trying not to make any sudden movements. He breathed through his nostrils then, eyeing me.

  “I can’t resist being around you, you’re intoxicating,” he breathed, still leaning away from me, still trying to recover.

  I worked to distract him, quickly thinking of more to say. “But I had a mother. She left me that letter…” I trailed off, now realizing that all I’d ever believed in was false.

  “Estella,” my name curled from his mouth like smoke. “You wrote that note, to trick yourself, to give yourself false hope. We wrote it together.” His eyes locked onto mine before glancing away. “Three hundred years ago, you wrote that, insisting that we were better off if we never knew each other, if we lived our own lives. I didn’t want any part of it, but I couldn’t resist the passion in your eyes.” He was still hanging away from me, timidly avoiding my gaze and watching my body language with care.

  Chills ran down my spine at those words. It was all so strange, so surreal that this man before me, this devilish sorcerer had been my soul-mate. It was so dream-like that we had shared so much of a life together, and surreal that I was the only one that couldn’t recall it. I felt drugged, cheated and lied to. But what was worse was that I only had myself to blame for my own suffering.

  “But why did I have to die?” My brow was furled in sudden anger. I had been cheated from a wonderful life, a life of magic and happiness.

  He finally relaxed, his body leaning back toward me with a renewed comfort. “Because, we are not the only ones of our kind, there was one other,” he was leaning in even farther now, his desire to be close a bitter-sweet battle in his mind.

  My heart rate quickened as I watched him, feeling my life hanging on a wire. He glanced at my lips, his head lacing close to my cheek, “There was another one of our kind left, and he was coming for you.” His voice was full of suspense and trepidation.

  I sat very still a
s his breath fell across my ear, his whispering voice enthralling. “Didn’t he have his own soul-mate though?” I asked carefully.

  He lifted his hand from his lap to my hair, his fingers combing through the silky strands as he whispered into my ear, his voice like silk and honey. “He killed her.”

  The words caused me to shudder and I turned with brave abruptness and faced him, our noses perilously close as he looked at me with surprise and slight discomfort. His mouth curled into a half smile and his teeth glinted in the candlelight. I looked into his eyes with fear, now realizing his lethal power.

  His breathing was steady and controlled. “He was evil, far more evil than any of the others, and greedy.” Our breaths fluttered across each others lips, his ash colored eyes searching mine. “He killed her first, and then in his thirst, came after all of us, killing us one at a time.”

  He leaned in with a sharp push, his gaze never blinking from mine. I stopped breathing as his nose brushed against my cheek, the strongly anticipated feeling more powerful than I’d ever felt. My chest was bursting with life and my lungs exhaled air with force. I took a slow deep breath, delighting in the feeling before he pulled back for a second time, his eyes again a brilliant blue.

  My chest was heaving hard as he watched me, charmed with his influence over my soul. “We were the last of our kind.” His gaze flashed as he blinked, “You were terrified beyond repair, so I brought you here.”

  I diligently watched him as my body still tingled, my cheeks burning.

  He glanced around the room before settling his eyes back on mine. “He still found us though, and in a brutal second, you made the decision to lock your soul inside me, against my strong objection.”

  He paused, his eyes dropping as I saw them beginning to well with pain. He rested both his hands into his lap and laced his fingers into a nervous knot as he forced back the sudden emotion.

  “You were laying there lifeless before me, your beautiful pearly hair draining of its brilliance,” he looked at my creamy locks. “And like I was saying, even now, it’s not the same.”

  His eyes welled over and I resisted the urge to wipe the tear that had fallen down his cheek.

  He looked deep into my eyes. “But I knew you would return. There was still life in those blue eyes of yours,” he stopped himself as he took a deep breath, “even then. You were always so stubborn, so strong. You had the undying desire to come back. Besides, the earth needs you.”

  He put his face in his hands and I sat there hopeless, the void in me tearing through my chest.

  He spoke into his fists, “Then when he saw you,” Edgar looked up with a disturbing look on his face, his eyes burning dark with rolling thunderclouds of hatred, “he just laughed at me, told me that now I was no better than him. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a hatred I’d never known and I felt my body surge with pain as your energy began to leave me.” He shook his head in regret. “I attacked him with so much force that it was quick to knock the life from me. The fight was brutal, far beyond anything you could fathom. It was my luck that he eventually ran like a coward; otherwise I would have died as well. He was badly injured and bleeding, and that was the last I saw of him. The only thing that managed to save me that day was the thought of you, the hope that you’d return.”

  His eyes calmed and I leaned back, never breaking my sorrowful gaze from him.

  “I flew back to you, as fast as my wings could manage, but your body was gone.” The look on his face raised a painful lump in my throat. “All that was left of your body was one feather.”

  He stood and walked to a bell jar that sat on the shelf, the dust on it was thick, making it hard to view the contents. He lifted the lid, plucking something from it with care. He walked back to me as my mouth fell open at the simple object in his grasp.

  “This feather.” He handed it to me.

  I took the white feather between my fingers as all speech was ripped from my lungs. I held the feather as though it were the most precious thing in the world and its color changed with a sudden glimmer, becoming a vivid white. The abrupt hue was much like Edgar’s pearled black feather had been, with the same razor sharp edge. It was then that I instantly understood, my gaze diverting toward him.

  His stare had never faltered. “You were the last white raven,” he exhaled. “And you were beautiful.” The look on his face was deeply despaired. “It was hard to know exactly what happened to you. I had no idea if you’d ever return, but as the months rolled into years, then decades, and even worse, centuries, I began to lose hope. There was no real recorded history about our kind, there was no way to know if you’d ever return, but then here you are, still alive.”

  I rolled the feather over and over in my hand, amazed that this beautiful object had been a product of me. “But then why am I not able to be a raven now? Is it because of my soul?”

  He looked at me with hope, his brows lifting in thought. “Yes, I suppose that’s why.”

  There was silence for a moment as the collection of wall clocks quietly ticked. I handed the feather back to Edgar but he only shook his head in defiance.

  “No, it’s yours now.” He was stubborn in his stand against me. “Keep it, maybe it will help.” He walked back toward me and knelt to the ground, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes were a gentle blue, like the lake on a rainy day. “I need you back Elle.” He reached toward me, slipping his arms around my waist, gently holding them away from my body as though in a hug.

  I tilted my head down, his hair brushing my lips. “What happened to the other sorcerer, after he ran?” I breathed into his hair and this time it was he whom shuddered.

  Edgar pulled his hands away from me, moving with fluid elegance as he again rested beside me, looking at me with dark apprehension. “Matthew’s still alive, he still lives in London.”

  His name sent terror through my heart as though I had heard it before. “Won’t he come back?” I asked terrified.

  Edgar sighed, “There’s the potential that he could, if he finds out about you. That’s why I left last weekend.”

  I looked at him with alarm, “That raven, in the meadow.” I gasped, “The English raven.”

  Edgar reached toward my hand, gently tracing it as I shut my eyes, feeling the rush of warmth rack my bones. “The raven was his spy,” his voice was full of concern, “Matthew knows something about you. He can feel it I’m sure, but from London, it can’t be very clear. He’s been sending spies for the last hundred years in hopes that you’ll return. My belief is that he has some sort of bargain with the gods, a bargain against our kind in an effort to eradicate us. What I don’t understand is that our kind can actually help, but the god’s jealousy is so thick, that they can’t see beyond that.”

  I watched as he slid his hand across the cushion toward mine, lacing his smooth fingers into my hand as I struggled to compose myself. The searing beauty in my veins was thick and my blood welcomed the drug in thankful appreciation.

  “I haven’t seen anymore ravens though, but he must have noticed that his spy was killed. When I went to scout out the situation last weekend, Matthew wasn’t acting at all strange, just very sick and drained of life.” His voice was soft and he was concentrating on the touch of our hands, “The years had not been kind to him and in fact he has aged. His once youthful skin in now like leather and his eyes are no more than black marbles. At first, I didn’t even recognize him, finding myself confused as though he had been replaced by something far more evil.”

  My breathing was heavy as I opened my eyes and Edgar smiled.

  “There you are,” he breathed, looking at my face with strange recognition.

  I felt a surge of memory flash through my mind, but none of it was at all comprehensible. His eyes were a deep blue and there was a warmth searing from him that I hadn’t noticed before. Edgar was struggling to hold on, struggling to fight back his urge to take my soul away from me for good. Despite my fears, I desperately wanted to be closer, I needed this feeling.

 
; His eyes darkened and he furled his brow, gently releasing his grasp with a trembling hand. “I love you,” he whispered, as though saying it not to me, but the fire that burned inside and the glimmer of a person that had flashed through my eyes.

  My soul slowly flickered back to black as my chest ached with the pain of loss. I didn’t know what to say and I found myself changing the subject in an attempt to retain my sanity. “Will he come back?” I regained my composure, looking at him with controlled intensity.

  “I hope not, but if he does, I will protect you. I feel I am stronger than him still, but if he’s desperate enough, that may be worse.” His voice sounded grave.

  “Then you have to teach me to be me again.” My voice was frantic, “I need to be able to protect you too.”

  A smile curled across his beautiful face. “Or just try to remember how to get your soul back, that’s probably easier,” he laughed, “You’re far too stubborn, I wouldn’t want to have to teach you again.”

  I tried to smile, but nothing came. He brushed a hand against my cheek, seeing my frustration and allowing me the chance to give him the reply I wanted. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, my heart finally filling with color and my soul shining a bright light through my heart.

  “I’m just glad you’re back Elle. I should have never let you go. I just wish you had waited, we could have killed him together.” He looked exhausted. “But you were always tricking me like that, always thinking of me before yourself. Your sacrifice was selfless and fueled by love, not reason.” His face was now tormented and lost.

  “But don’t think about that,” I sighed. “Just think about now. The past is over. Gone.” I thought about the fact that to me, the past hadn’t really even existed.