Page 3 of Darkness Consuming
Chapter Two
A Father’s Love
Violence
I thought I hated him before. Apparently, I didn’t know what real hate was. Spending every waking hour with the one person you loathe more than any other introduces you to a new level of hatred. In silence, I study him from over the top of my newest book, Towers of Darkness, A Tale of Twin Cities. It’s a textbook on our kingdom and the neighboring kingdom to the south. Both are thriving cities. Both are powerful kingdoms.
But one is run by a madman.
My father.
With wide eyes, he carefully pours one cylinder full of liquid into another. He struggles to steady the glass with the blunt end of his arm. A small amount of satisfaction comes from remembering that Nollix took that hand from him. Deep lines etch his face, and the one between his brows is so sunken it appears to be trying to split his manic expression right in half. His hushed and unintelligible words scrape across his thin lips. The hum of his words circles the room. The liquids caress one another, the clear substance tangles with the deep red until it’s a shade very similar to blood.
Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, my father swirls the concoction only once before downing it quickly. His eyes close as if he’s savoring every drop.
I’ve been here for days, possibly weeks really, and not one word has been spoken about souls. I still don’t know what his intent is with the information he gained from the book of Severed Souls.
A house of iron walls, encloses us entirely. Not one window offers me sunlight. The iron has a terrible effect on my powers. Wherever we are, the magic of the Wild Hunt does not exist here. My power does not exist. At times, I feel like I barely exist.
“Are you learning much, Violence?” His eyes are still gently closed as he soaks in whatever it is that he just drank.
Is it medicine? Is he sick?
An awful excitement of hope spirals through me at the idea of him being sick.
“Very much, Father.” My jaw clenches, my fingers gripping the frail little pages of the textbook a bit too tightly.
I am. I’m learning quite a lot really. I’m learning he’s starting to let his guard down and he’s starting to trust me; which is just a poor idea on his part.
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you and Jeriko downstairs.” The back of his hand wipes lightly at the sweat that’s formed against his brow.
He no longer seems like the man I remember when I was a child. When I was small he was a person to be feared, to be respected and somewhere over the years he lost that illusion in my eyes. He isn’t a man of honor. He isn’t even a father.
He is only a ruler.
My eyes narrow on him but I stand abruptly. My boots scuff over the iron flooring. The dark stairs sound hollow against my steps as I take my time trailing down to the first floor. The entire estate is like this; dark and depressing.
There are no doors. No sunlight. Humid air is all I breathe now.
Strange thoughts have started to drift through my mind lately. Dark thoughts. I can’t tell where they’re coming from. I can’t decide if it’s the magic encompassing this building, or my father’s controlling powers, or just simply … myself.
I shut those thoughts far away. I keep my mind on the mission at hand. Learning what it is my father has started is all that I’m living for now.
Heavy steps bring me to him. Jeriko lies spread out on the couch. His head rests against my sister’s leg as she reads quietly from a handwritten journal. Amandria’s thin blonde brows knit together as she studies every line of the book. She looks tiny next to him. She’s soft and sophisticated while he’s scarred and scowling. The two of them are an odd but fitting pair. Every day they seem closer and closer.
He’s almost kind to her. And she him.
It’s completely off-putting.
Jeriko’s gaze cuts across my features as Amandria’s long fingers push absently through his dark hair. It’s as if I can see every dangerous thought inside his head. He’s hungry for something more basic within him.
He hasn’t consumed a soul for weeks. When we were in the Wild Hunt, he devoured more souls than any of us. It fueled him in a way. It brought us to life, sending addictive energy all through our bodies.
And that aspect of his life has been taken away.
But he still wants it.
Right now, his little mind is struggling to decide if killing me would be worth the punishment my father would give him for taking my soul.
