23 Lock and Key

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lock and Key

VERITY

Get up.

The voice is smoothe followed by sun-kissed lips and fiery eyes. His scent carried the aromas of mandarin trees and leather. Heat pulsates from a gentle touch, and for a moment, I don't dare to wake myself from my slumber. His company should boil my blood, but there's only comfort. My fingers curl from the sensation. The plethora of heat is eating away at my senses, blurring my vision with pretty lies and a pungent smell followed by charred feathers and bones.

If I could just bask in this golden warmth, then maybe I could..

Get up, Verity.

A dream of forbidden desires turning into the wicked truth as I stand before those who I've once loved. Tulips spill at my bare feet until I see the silhouette of a woman emerging from torn soil. Her midnight blue hair spills effortlessly from her broken skull, and my mother looks over her shoulder longingly. The skyless eyes she now possesses never leave mine until her feet float from the air and the tethered wings carry her to the heavens above. The same place she's rested from the Talc hell since I was five.

The wingspan that stretches from her mangled body is coated in murky crimson drenched feathers spreading out towards the gray clouds. I chase after her shadow, watching the petite outline drift into nothing. Only to fall at the feet of someone who stood by my side till the end. Ayron reached for my hand, but when I touched his calloused palm, he fell apart. Skin filled the air as ashes, and the somber cry in my throat never released. I pulled away from the skeleton that clashed at my feet.

My head aches in thick strings of heat. The air is tight in my lungs from the pain prickling my senses. In nearly all my nightmares, Callum is here. But through the fumes and ashes, my eyes can only find Sasha and Piper.

Standing in the unfolding chaos around us, the two are unscathed. Sasha turns her head from me with puffy eyes drenching her features. While Piper, to my surprise, stands beside a dragonling with emerged fangs of anger. My throat closes at the sight.

I don't want them to find out my secrets. They wouldn't understand. I've loved, and loved, and always lost in the end. They wouldn't accept me for who I am or what I'm doing to escape the hell my brother left me to concur. They wouldn't understand. They..

My gaze rests on the one who beckoned me to this hell. His golden eyes burn into me, setting the tulips that drift in the breeze ablaze at my feet. He reaches over his friends and beckons me once more to join him. My fingers ache in the loss of touch. I can't allow this to happen. Taking his hand would only mean sealing my fate. I would be accepting the visions Callum entrusted me with.

The longing in his eyes gravitates me, centering me into a hold I should sever. I don't in the end even though I'm certain it will kill me. As if it wasn't bad enough that I have to dwell with him in person, he troubles me in my dreams.

Flint, Flint Anderson.

With his auburn-tinged hair, ridiculous rich brown eyes and sandy-bronzed complexion. And he looks…

The smell of lilac and detergent punctures my senses. I know who's beckoning me to wake up now.

No one can find out. Especially them. Not until the Coven is destroyed. Not until I-

"Get up, Verity."

My body shoots upright, sending a crushing wave of nausea to my temple. Beads of sweat, and mangled uneven hair clump to my sides while my eyes pinch away the blurs of the room. Fear nibbles at my flesh at the sight of two lean figures at my bedside. It takes an embarrassing moment, one I couldn't care less to acknowledge, to piece together the platinum-rolled hair belonging to Piper. And the luscious locks of ebony are Sasha.

Gentle hands push me back to the soft padding of my bed, and Piper soothes me. "Easy, easy. You were having a nightmare-"

Sasha grumbles something regarding my head, and I squint at her. I can't recall how I managed to get in bed or how I cleansed the grime off of me. But I didn't-

"You hit your head. Pretty solid fall," Sasha said, resting her palm on my forehead.

Her touch was meant to be gentle, but all I felt was a stabbing sensation. I held my reaction. But they noticed my facade.

"Don't rush to get up," Piper ordered, though it sounded more like a suggestion. "Rejuvenating in your sleep or not, you still scared the hell out of us. You even had Flint-"

My hands shoot up to my neck. A strangled sob captures my throat as my fingers run through the uneven strands of chopped hair. That's right. I was in the sky with Maverd one moment, and the next, I was in a velvety dream with Callum. We were back at the manor before hell broke free. Our father, Hugh Talc, arranged a ceremony in honour of Elaine- the queen of Faes'. Callum's mother, and the woman who dressed me to her content for show.

Cal and I despised his mother entirely but differently altogether. Her son could never be his true form before her because it never upheld her standard of acceptance. And I was the prized daughter she loathed wholly. The walking product of her husband's affair. Her pride and joy to a kingdom that sneered at her inability to maintain a faithful King.

Yet, the two of us waltz across the ballroom floor. The manor was decked with bright streamers, lit candles floating above the guests, and intricate designs throughout the halls. Callum and I spent the evening dancing till our feet ached in the weight of heavy garments and overstepped placements. My midnight velvet gown pinched my waist to the brim, but I didn't care. I knew of his love, and he knew of my blood. We danced freely. Laughed with our hearts beating, our stomachs rich, and our lungs swelled with delicious air and light. And our Father's wife sulked in her renewed vows of a wasteland. Everything was as it once was. Blissfully ignorant, sealed with a childhood manner.

And then, Callum's laughter died out, replaced by the frantic cries and rolled-up agony. My surroundings shifted, fizzling into gentle snowfall as the noises became unbearable. The heat building around me scared me. Reminding me that my reality was painfully lonesome filled with overflowing animosity. And my eyes centered on a silver band with the same message Cal left behind for me. The key. A poem I've heard Callum recite before me just days from his death. And now that Bellwether solidified its a ring, whether he's truthful or not is subjective, it's all I got. It was the key to opening the ultimate weapon.

In thy name, it shall be done.

A bond woven in blood, two halves ironed into one.

Soar for the palpitating sun, there's a war to be won.

And when the headsman leaves you cornered,

walk forward.

Walk forward. A sentimental devotion to a human and a dragon whose son is meant to be the ultimate sacrifice for all the wrong reasons. The key to opening and destroying the coven's weapon is wrapped tightly around the neck of their beloved sacrifice. Fate couldn't have sealed a pretty bow big enough for this surprise. Yet somehow, Callum knew that everything would fall into place. His riddle about an insignificant ring is no coincidence. And if I solve the rest, maybe I can find the ones my brother entrusted and who else is after the Covenheads. I can find the rebellions. The ones who call themselves Ravens.

"Verity?"

I have to get that necklace before the coven. Somehow, I have to convince the human to hand it over, without Mythicae or the Covenheads figuring me out. I can't trust him, and he'd be a bloody fool to trust me. But I doubt he's aware of the death ring he holds to his chest.

Foolish, foolish human.

"Verity," Sasha says again, snapping her fingers before my eyes.

Glancing at Sasha, the worried expression on her face melts away when our eyes meet. She offers a gentle smile. I push her hand away and force myself to sit upright. My body is generously painted in welts and bruises. The rich pain in my bones is enough to make me retch. "What time is it?"

Piper sits down beside me, running a hand down my spine soothingly. The fabric of my nightgown sticks to my skin. "It's seven o'clock in the morning."

"What…" My voice quivers from the rich ache in my skull. "What happened?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific," Sasha grunted, settling down beside me, offering a dramatic hand gesture. "It's been an adventurous twenty-four hours. We can start with when you nosedived yourself from the sky, kicked my cousin's balls, or your nightmare."

My hands run over my face to cover my grovel. It's all coming back to me in palpitating waves. The aldarars, Maverd being surrounded, and waking up to a devastatingly handsome man. The snow around me melted slowly on the thick of my blood but all I could focus on was the depth in his golden russet eyes. His voice spoke with an airy sense to it. Wholly gentle and soothing. And for a moment, his grasp on me was a sensation I allowed myself to sink into. I never knew brawny hands could caress skin so gently, even timid like he feared I may shatter beneath his hold. The man's scent was intoxicating, carrying the embodiment of the woodlands after rainfall. It was warm with hints of black teak wood wrapped up in a crisp aroma.

I could've stayed there forever, pinned under the stars gazing up at a chiseled face. Until I remembered the ginger-haired stranger was all too familiar. The person who came to my rescue, who held onto me with tenderness and intensity was the one person I abhorred more than anything. And he was hovering over me, pressed into my skin. Flint Anderson was on top of me, and I could feel inches of him pressed against my leg. The bastard fondled my breast in front of the entire school. Heat creeps up my neck, singeing my cheeks. He's lucky I didn't scalp him right there with the student body and Mythicae as witnesses.

Filthy, disgusting human.

"Nightmare," I sighed into my palms before looking up at my friends. "Let's start with that one."

"Okay," Sasha mumbles. "But we will talk about-"

Piper rushes in, lowering Sasha's hand forcibly while her attention fixates on me. "We heard crying and figured you were having a night terror. I'm sorry we intruded. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

It's an embarrassing thought. Not being able to control my responses to the horrors that play in my mind while I sleep. And the fact that they could hear behind closed doors pricks my side with unease. My fingertips trace up the rigged frayed ends of my hair till my nails scrape the headset I wear faithfully. Piper leans forward, peering to catch a glimpse of my face. "How about we fix your hair and head out for breakfast? It'll grow back, but for the meantime, I have the perfect style for you. If you're-"

"I'd like that very much."

Anything other than looking like a toddler's doll who survived one too many tea parties and scissors.

Piper helps me to my feet, guiding me with my arm wrapped around hers. The pain is subsiding, but Sasha continues to scorch the little fibers I have over her cousin's balls. My head lowers, rising clashes of hot white discomfort swim in my head. "I told him to get off twice." Sasha crosses her arms in disbelief. "Those inky bastards were swarming and he wouldn't move. You want me to apologize for making your cousin get his dick off me?" Piper unravels the bandages on my scalp while I offer a flailing hand gesture, "A kick is nothing compared to an aldarar robbing a person's soul. Trust me."

Piper tries to busy herself with removing bandages, but the color on her face is ruby. Sasha lifts herself to join Piper in the obscure task of prying off unnecessary bandages gifted by Maverd and the team medics. All that remains from the fall are yellowing bruises. That's the only upside of being High Fae. Rejuvenating my physical components is refreshingly natural, something that only needs sleep to achieve.

The expression on Sasha's face falters, "You're Right, I'm sorry."

The two led me to the bathroom. Sasha slips behind the door to retrieve clothing to replace my worn nightgown. Piper keeps herself occupied by assisting me to undress, and I send a solemn prayer of gratitude when she doesn't grimace at the removal of my headset. Not that she hasn't seen it before, but I can't stomach seeing it myself. The irreversible damage.

Sasha doesn't know, and Piper has sworn to never speak a word of the misfortune. Rather, the vampire conveys creative excuses to avoid the conversation entirely. Piper drew bath water, guiding me to soak the cruel markings of a fight I never asked for away. I lower myself in the stream of water, noticing the bath salts and self-aromatherapy soaps one of them snuck in.

Her hands run through my hair with ease, blending streaks of delectable soaps into the matte. "Don't worry about," she gestures to my head from the reflection before me. "I'll conceal it so it stays between us."

I slip further into the steaming pool in the alcove bathtub. "You're an angel, Pip."

...

Piper escorts me from the cooled bath, helping me get dressed despite my refusal. She didn't stop squabbling until I agreed to wear a taupe tunic and black shorts. I suppose I should grow irritated by her affection, but I know Piper's heart; quick to love, empathy-driven and always forgiving. Qualities that, deep down somewhere forgotten, I used to possess. She's a marvelous woman, opposing the tarnished reputation that comes from being a vampire.

Once Piper is satisfied with her work, she leads me into the living room. I don't put up much of a fit when she orders me to sit at a stool before draping a cover around my neck. High Fae are known for their superior customs, spiritual bindings, and lavishly decked parties. The act of cutting hair as a High Fae is a beloved custom. A spiritual release of the growth through the years, every burden and blessing, and all the in between. Cutting the hair of a High Fae is an honor, something that species considered beneath my kind is a disgrace. But I left my father's beliefs behind the day Callum passed. There's no one else in my eyes that I would trust over Piper.

She began caressing my hair, running a cylinder brush through the uneven strands. The bruises on my legs have subsided, recovering at a steady pace with yellow blots overcoming the purple hues. Sasha returned, holding an ivory mirror in her hand. The small frame is decorated with lavish floral arrangements and a unique pattern. It is beautiful with rose gold embossed into its smooth texture. My first instinct is to rip the vanity from Sasha's grasp, but I remain seated. Watching the glossy object weep in her hands, which neither of the girls could hear. At least, for once, the constant cries coming from our complex don't belong to Piper's annoying cousin. My temple aches with rolling emotions as the snipping of scissors eat away. Piper holds my head still, reminding me that her magic can only conceal to her own extent. Sasha watches the two of us with a menacing grin. Knowing her, I should brace myself for whatever twisted idea she has in that dragon head of hers. I'm sure to despise it.

The sound of dilapidated sobs grows louder, and each breath wails in depressing measures. I'm lost in the sound, wondering how long one could cry until they lost their breath in the darkness. Sasha's grip on the slender handle loosens as she wiggles her fingers inches from my face with a a subtle wave of her hand. "Pip just asked you something."

I freeze, blinking slowly while reality falls back into place. "I'm sorry, what is it?"

Piper squealed, walking before me with her entrusted styling clips. Back at the Svien household, in the slums of Burbank, Piper's family longs for her to continue their centuries-owned restaurant. But deep down, Piper has no interest in the matter. She'd cut hair for a living if she could. It's a natural talent of hers.

I couldn't help but notice despite her excitement, she was nervous. Too nervous for my liking. Piper smiles cheekily. "I tried to save as much length as possible, but Flint did a number on you."

"I'll say," Sasha mocks with a devilish grin.

Ignoring the dragon, I focus on Piper. I know the human tried playing heroics. That's part of their nature according to the repertoire of Testaments. Foolish, adrenaline addicts.

"Show me."

Sasha hands over the mirror. And I scan the back of its body quickly. Two beautifully carved silver hands outstretched to the stars are engraved on the ivory frame, and the sobs I couldn't stomach before lessened. I gently turn the mirror to its front, and hold the delicate item before my face. My hair no longer graced my hips, but rather rested just below my collarbone. The uneven strands in the front, thanks to the incompetent moron, have been revived as centered wispy bangs. But I don't hate the new look. It's refreshing in an unsettling fashion. I beamed at my reflection the moment the sobs stopped and looked up at Piper. Maybe I should thank the human after all.

"I love it."

Piper grips Sasha's shoulders in excitement, squealing once again. "You do? Like you really, really like it?"

"Yeah," my fingers touch the lively clean edges. "This is perfect."

Piper glows in happiness. Something I find myself jealous of. Her natural ability to be joyful, and find happiness in the smallest things. "Can I style it now?"

"I don't see why not. Go for it, Pip."

For the next hour, the three of us chatted as Piper moved quickly to make effortless-looking loose curls. And I laid the mirror on my lap, tracing the gorgeous design of its unnatural structure. "Sasha," I say as my roommate turns her gray eyes to watch me. "Where did you get this mirror?"

She cocks her head to the side smiling, "my dad gave it to me for my birthday." Sasha's curious gaze could rip me apart. "Why?"

"Just curious." Not a lie, but far from the truth.

"I don't use it anyway." Sasha shrugs, helping herself to Piper's styling pins. "You can have it if you want."

She can't be that blind. Then again, Sasha never questions her father. "You sure?"

Sasha nods, and I accept her merciful offer. Once Piper is satisfied with her work, the three of us finish getting ready for the day. I caved when the two asked me to join them for breakfast. It's the least I can do since they've stayed with me, comforted and cared for me despite my denial. By the end of it, I placed the mirror to face the outdoors to watch the glistening snow, swaying western larch and aspen trees. There's no telling how long the object has gazed at these hollow walls.

The three of us leave early, letting Cheryl doze off. Since Sasha insists that her cousin joins her for every meal, I'm sure the Devonni twins will be in attendance. I refuse to sit at a table after listening to a bubblegum imbecile cry over charity schlong. I'd rather carve my guts out with a spoon.

Piper leans into my arm, dipping her voice quietly as we exit the Urey Dormitory. I welcomed the cold breeze, feeling nature's subtle hiss to another frigid morning. "Maybe you and Flint can clear things up about last night." I doubt that. "He was only trying to help."

Sasha scoffs with a mischievous smile. The words she dared to utter next left Piper's cheeks flushed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd be worried you're going to sleep with my cousin." Piper turns a shade brighter as Sasha walks ahead of us, "if you're not already."