Chapter One The end
The rickety pavement had it in for her from the start. Glassy puddles camouflaged the potholes as Feya teetered towards where the next ‘Leave Our Children Alone Lucifer’ (or rather ‘LOCAL’ for short) meeting was being held.
Alongside her was her best friend Kelsey, who glided forward while spinning an umbrella in her hand. Like last month, she became stuck in the same bitter mood that always surfaced when they had to listen to their parents whine about something they clearly didn’t understand. When the puddles began to sparkle, Kelsey fiddled with the umbrella, taking her frustration out on the flimsy spindles. Two pieces of metal snapped and began wobbling on their hinges. With a sound caught somewhere between a snarl and a sigh, she blindly threw it to her left, somehow managing to land it in a blue wheelie bin.
“How did you do that?” Feya asked, taking her eyes from the ground just long enough to plunge her foot into a puddle. She let out a gasp and Kelsey’s glossed up lips bent into a smirk.
“Don’t be too impressed, I’m pretty sure it’s not recyclable.”
Soon enough, the dreary clouds began dousing them with thick sheets of rain, adding a new challenge to Feya’s balance. As her hair became glued to her cheeks in dirty blonde strands, her only saving grace was that Kelsey looked just as much like a drenched rat as they turned the last corner to her house. “Look,” Kelsey said with her tone suspiciously sweeter than usual. With the path running up to Kelsey’s house being smoother than most in their village, Feya risked lifting her gaze up towards her friend’s front garden.
Feya failed to suppress her groan. It didn’t matter that his usual trademark light, floppy hair was flat with rainwater; Tristan had been one of their best friends for more years than she could remember, and recognising him was second nature to her. She just didn’t feel up for Kelsey’s comments.
“He’s in the rain waiting for you - without a coat,” Kelsey scoffed, sending a nudge in Feya’s direction. “Now that shows dedication.”
“Let it go, Kelsey,” she said, trying to banish the embarrassing memories of the copious mistakes she had made in front of this one person. She wished they could just be close friends instead, but that option never seemed enough for him. The more she thought about it, the more she felt her head tighten into a headache. Instead she studied his face, as he became more defined with each step.
“Hey, Tristan,” she greeted him as they reached the picket fence surrounding the house. He did not reply, or turn, or even twitch a muscle on his rain sodden face. A sombre look had pinched creases into his forehead, although his eyes were wide, hypnotised by whatever he was gazing at.
“You must be freezing.” Feya reached out to his arm. He flinched; a jolt that brought him back to life.
“You have to leave - something’s happened.” He sounded serious and breathless, still lost to his own thoughts as if he had done something, or seen something unthinkable. Nothing was more compelling than his gaze. Despite the rain, Feya could see that the whites of his eyes were bloodshot against his chocolate brown irises.
“What‘s wrong, Tristan?” Feya asked him gently. “What did you see?”
He gulped, lips stuttering over the words before taking them back. “No, it’s too… just wait for someone to get here.” He looked down at the ground, breathing deeply. Feya wanted to reach out, to pull him into her arms or even just hold his hand but she felt cold from the way he had flinched away from her.
“Who? The police?” Tristan shook his head. That meant one thing - the Embers were coming for a routine clean up, to collect anything out of the ordinary. Feya felt her stomach go hollow, bowled out like a melon by the consequence of what was happening. The worst possible news was hiding behind the door. The same door that Kelsey was pushing open so gently, making sure that no one would hear it creak...
Then Kelsey screamed.
Feya tried to fight her way past Tristan, but he instantly grabbed a hold of her and used his body as a shield, hiding the scene from her. She could see the door was ajar as she peered over his shoulder. Kelsey’s body blocked her view, making a silhouette against the thin strip of hallway light. “Let me see, or – or - let me help her,” Feya cried, although this time Tristan was wiser to her tricks.
“Just calm down,” he told her. “Please, Feya.” She struggled harder against him, logic and reason lost with her friend’s echoing scream.
Within seconds, Kelsey had turned and was now emptying her stomach onto the grassy verge, unable to turn and close the door, knowing that would mean having to facing another glimpse of what was inside. It was only a matter of time before Feya saw what they had both witnessed, but Tristan adamantly held his ground, with his grip around her shoulders growing tighter and tighter.
“Tristan,” she gasped in theatrical pain, causing him to fumble apologetically and loosen his grip. She wriggled free and jumped up, just quick enough to see a clear shot of the hallway, before her world fell into a muffled mantle of confusion. The rain seemed to dissipate until Feya could no longer feel the cold strands drive against her face, and the wind seemed to end as her skin became numb.
Three bodies were strewn across the hallway. Crimson slashes marked their necks and blood was soaked into the once cream carpet, dying it a striking scarlet. Nothing could tear Feya away from looking at the mess that had been made of these three people, and when the door slammed she realised that was all she had taken in.
Her legs gave way, her heart stopped and her mind maliciously replayed the image around her head. She desperately tried to place names to the murdered souls, but a thick wall of denial was stopping her from understanding anything; anything other than fear. Time seemed to come to a halt - or at least she had no idea how much had passed, until suddenly she could feel her heart beating again. Slowly, she began focusing on small details; Tristan was grasping her under the elbows, keeping her from collapsing into the sodden earth; the rain was easing to a light spit and the door was now closed. She studied the white frame of Kelsey’s front door, trying to see past the thick panels of decorative glass. The moment was becoming bearable, and soon she had control over herself again.
“Open it, Tristan.” She pulled herself out of his arms and tried to hit him aside.
“No, I should have stopped you two the first time, neither of you should have seen that.” His words were strong, the glare in his eyes pleading her to stop. Still, Feya had to know who they were, and she was ready this time to see it, but Tristan refused to move.
“Whose – whose parents – who...” she stammered, suddenly feeling weak again. Still, it was enough to get her point across.
With tears still held behind his eyes, Tristan began to shake his head as he stuttered, “N-no erm, not yours. Mine.” His voice fell cold over the last word as if he would not let himself comprehended the magnitude of the situation just yet. He looked over to Kelsey, who was now just focusing on breathing, knelt on the ground in her own protective bubble. He put his hand on her shoulder, taking a deep sudden breath before whispering, “Kelsey’s Dad.” His words sent another, almost visible, shard of ice to her heart.
“I’m so sorry,” Feya whispered, finally pulling Tristan into tight hug before she tended to Kelsey. As she knelt beside her friend, Feya herded her emotions into a tight box to displace them to the back of her mind. She would not indulge in them now. The fear, anxiety, the sight of the bodies – she placed all these thoughts into the box, until they were nothing more than shadows and wisps of smoke. Smoke was good - smoke could be worked with.
“Here,” Feya said, handing her best friend her scarf so that she could clean herself up. She picked her off the floor and allowed Kelsey to lean against Tristan as the full force of the situation become clearer. “The Embers will be here any minute.” She began to show her panic once more, swaying in a tight motion, trying to focus. “They’re going to take the bodies, that’s for sure… probably any possessions-”
“No,” Kelsey interrupted, her eyes fixed on the ground below her. “You know that’s not all they will take.”
They all realised the truth of their friend’s statement. They knew that the children of the murdered were always taken and detained by the Embers, until it was known for certain that they neither possessed ‘gifts’ or that their lives were in danger from the real Demons needing to destroy a future threat.
“I won’t let them take you. Either of you,” she told them, eyeing Tristan. It was harder to look at Tristan - he held the contact, communicating with his brown eyes what he couldn’t form into words. “And you don’t know--”
“Feya,” Kelsey snapped with her voice at a croak. “This has not been the only sign and you know it. We’re not adverse to admitting things like this exist, and there has to be some magic in your blood for that.” Her words were cold harsh slabs of truth; rough yet nothing more than expected. If they were completely human, they would barely understand what was happening, something that made the LOCAL meetings always seem ironic.
“Then you could run! I‘ll stay and say the Demons took you-”
In that second a sleek, silver van pulled up in the drive, followed by black cars that moulded into the night. They skidded to a stop in unison; the doors flung open so that the team of Embers could pour out.
From the front car, a tall woman marched out, holding herself with an undeniable, almost arrogant confidence. With the muscles in her face held tight, she strutted forward whilst removing her glasses from the end of her pointed nose, not needing to look back to check that her team was organised and ready.
The Embers’ faces were all unfamiliar, blurring into a unity dressed in black cargo trousers and jackets. Just one member of their pack held a distinctive decorum; a girl who could be no more than sixteen. Her hair was a mixture of red orange and blonde, plaited in a braid down her back, the colours entwined to resemble fire. Her eyes were hard and cold. Even in the darkening night they were obviously blue, but not consistent. In thin lines breaking from the pupils were grey cracks. Fire and Ice.
“Isadora,” called the sleek lady. Fire and Ice placed her stride so that she would step alongside her superior with her shoulders held broad. “You are in charge of taking in the girl and boy.”
“No!” Feya screamed. She had not meant it to come out with such magnitude, but she was struggling to keep control of herself. Her body was shaking - not from the cold or the rain - but she could not stop it. The more she tried to hold herself still the more her muscles fought to shiver and jolt. The box with all her emotions inside it had to be tighter, although she felt if it were any tighter, she might implode.
“I’m sorry sweetie, but this event has happened for a reason, and they need protection.” The woman’s voice had a patronising calmness derived from ignorance, the type that adds a pinch of salt to the wound that was about to be carved. These were her two best friends, and the people who had been there for her ever since she was a small child. She would not let them be taken from her life, never to be seen again as if they had been murdered themselves – and then the image from the hallway flared in her mind once more before she could stop herself.
Feya’s box imploded. It felt like a belt had tightened around her heart, and in one slick move, ripped from her torso. But with it her emotions faded. Suddenly she felt empowered and in control. Feya placed herself between her friends and the Embers, waiting for them to get the unwelcome message.
Isadora stepped back, and then fumbled on the spot with impatience for Feya’s wrath. “Oliana...” she began scornfully, and the sleek lady nodded. Her shoulders slumped down, but Oliana’s reaction was different. She smiled, clearly pleased by what she had seen.
“My mistake, take all three of them. She’ll make an excellent Protector for the Velvet Bunker.”
Feya stumbled back, unsure of what this meant. She had heard a lot about how terrible the magical race was, but nothing about their life, or actual magic. A word she had heard of was the ‘Bunker’, although the word ‘Velvet’ was only vaguely familiar. It was where children were ripped from their lives with no goodbyes, and forced to train so that they could fight the evil in the world. The only fact she knew for certain was that once children were taken, they never returned.
“Do you want me to take her force field down?” Isadora asked.
“What force field?” Feya whispered. Suddenly the lids of her eyes felt incredibly heavy. Then the feeling spread to her whole body. Her legs gave way and her mind slipped from consciousness.
Tristan swooped in again, only just managing to catch her before her head could hit the pavement.
“What did you do to her!?” he demanded, his eyes flashing with worry. Kelsey stood close behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
“Be careful,” she whispered in his ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear. It was almost as if she was talking to herself. Her glossy green eyes hardly appeared to be in focus, but her hand was tightly clawed onto the scarf Feya had given her. Instead of challenging them, Tristan decided to let the sleek lady speak.
“We did nothing. Her magic is weak and untrained and so it takes the energy of its host very quickly. Have either of you showed any sign of holding a magical gift?”
In unison they shook their heads, neither wanting to place a false truth on the table any more than admitting they held a gift that would condemn them to a new life away from those who they knew and loved.
“All the same, take them before their surviving parents arrive. Mrs Black is due with the rest of the LOCAL meeting any minute now, and it will only get more dramatic.” She clicked her fingers, advancing on the house with the majority of the Embers following her. Only one remained behind with Isadora. Clearly the two conscious fourteen year olds were no threat to two well-trained teenaged Embers, but whatever was inside the house seemed to be a different matter completely.
“Hard way, easy way?” Isadora teased. There was no sign of a smile on her face. Instead, it looked as if this young girl had never felt the satisfaction of happiness. Or at least not for a long time. “The van has seats inside so it only looks as if you are animals being herded.” Then she did smile, and it was becoming clearer that Isadora really had never experienced true happiness.
Kelsey did not show any objections with being herded into the back of the silver van, but Tristan was adamant that he would be the one to carry the unconscious Feya in. He still was uncertain as to what had happened to her and he would not for one second let these strangers handle her. They all had to stick together.
As he stepped into the van a firm, cold hand clutched his shoulder. Within seconds it warmed and squeezed as the words, “Don’t get too attached,” slithered into his ear. He turned to face the culprit, and saw it was the girl of Ice and Fire. For a second he thought he saw compassion, and even hurt behind the words she hissed, but with a blink her face fell into a hard scowl. Then she slammed the doors shut, alerting the driver to put his foot down.