Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 6
We would do well to find her and align with that power.
– Fairmore Family Grimoire
Three months after freedom from prison
Drago
“I’m telling you right now, Drago, he won’t survive much longer.” Ciaran’s concern coils under my skin in an uncomfortable way as he talks about my mate. He huffs out a breath and braces his arms against my desk. “He’s going to end up killing himself.”
Everything had gone to shit when trying to get Shadow out. In the end, it had been Ciaran who managed it, not me. It’s why it took so long for me to see him, the shame I felt—the shame I still feel—for failing him is a parasite in me. It's feeding on me every day, getting bigger and bigger. Someday, it’ll consume me completely.
“You knew who I was, what I was to you, and you fucking left me there! You allowed it all to happen.” Shadow’s voice slices me deep, the force of it almost physically pushing me backward. “I will never forgive you.”
My chest aches as I hear his voice in my head again. It’s been three months since he said those words, since he demanded I leave. I have avoided forcing my way into his life, instead giving him space to heal after that moment. He’s right to be angry with me; as much as he’ll never forgive me, I know I’ll never forgive myself, either. “So, what do you want me to do, Ciaran? He won’t speak to me.”
“So, make him,” Ciaran growls. “I can’t worry about him bleeding out or overdosing while I’m out. I’ve done everything in my power, but I can’t get through.”
I rake my hand down my face, the rings dragging over my skin. “I’ll move him in here.”
But Ciaran shakes his head. “He stays with me, but you are going to go be with him when I’m not.”
“You want me to babysit?” I growl. Despite the words tasting bitter in my mouth, my dragon prowls below me, angry that we’ve let it get this far.
“No, I want you to take care of your fucking mate, Drago.” My eyes widen a fraction of an inch, barely a tell, but Ciaran smirks. “Yeah, I’m not an idiot. I know who you two are to each other. So, go take care of him.” Ciaran spins around and storms back into the club from my office. The sounds briefly penetrate the room before the door shuts and blocks out the noises again. Ciaran has been on edge lately, and it makes me wonder, not for the first time in our history, what my friend is up to.
I shoot back the amber liquid left in my glass before gathering my shadows around me and stepping into them. Darkness clouds my vision for a moment before I’m stepping into Ciaran and Shadow’s penthouse. The spacious main room is dark, the only thing illuminating it the occasional flashes of lightning over the skyline of Gothic Grove. A perpetual storm presides over the city now that the original families are being killed off. Fucking Alexi Helvig. I have my suspicions as to what his motivations are, but I’ve kept them to myself thus far. It’s Ciaran’s battle, not mine.
Mine is currently somewhere in this penthouse.
Walking through the darkened living room, I follow the slight tug in my chest toward a back bedroom. At the end of the long hallway, the door is shut. Faint sounds of music escape under it, but no light shines from the crack. Something in me is recoiling at the idea of opening the door. A deep, unsettling fear creeps into my bones like poison. When I’m only a few steps away, the scent of blood hits my nostrils and my body locks up. I am simultaneously paralyzed with fear, yet mobilized by the need to see if I am too late.
Shadow
(“I’m OK” – Christina Aguilera)
It’s hard to describe what being a burden feels like to someone who has never felt it. Never had to experience the chest-tightening, heart-crushing feeling that you are failing the people who mean the most to you. It’s a feeling I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy because it’s one that spirals deeper and deeper until eventually, you can’t feel anything but that guilt. The dark feeling takes on a life of its own with claws and teeth that rip you apart, eat you alive. My skin is crawling, and I desperately want to carve a piece out to relieve myself, to punish myself. After all, if I hurt myself, pay the price the guilt demands, I can’t hurt anyone else. Right?
That’s what I tell myself as my hand shakes holding the razor blade. It’s for my own good. I deserve this. Beads of sweat break out across my forehead. Being high was so much easier. Being alive hurts. I can’t get past the crushing guilt that I’m a burden. That I hurt everyone around me. My anger at my own failures wraps around me like armor, keeping others safer by pushing them away from me. It’s the rattle of a snake's tail to warn people before it strikes.
The first slice beads up and I feel the calm take over. The numbness that's different from drugs but no less powerful. It brings a sense of peace as I watch myself bleed, knowing that I’m giving payment to the guilt that demands such a heavy price. Another slice, and I can pretend that I’ll have this feeling forever.
Another.
And another.
One more.
I can almost pretend I won’t feel guilty after this, that I won’t feel bad. That this, too, won’t turn into another badge I’ll have to wear that shows how inadequate I am. How unworthy I am of being loved. I hate these thoughts, hate how they have infested my brain. Deep down, I know that it's all a lie my demons have created in my head. Fighting the demons is so exhausting, and honestly, I’m just too fucking tired.
Drago finds me on the bathroom floor sometime later. Time has no meaning at this point. He cleans me up without a word. Maybe that's worse. I would rather him yell and rage at me. His acceptance of my faults makes me feel even more worthless. The pity in his eyes makes me want to pick up the razor again. On the surface, I hate Ciaran for telling him what has been happening, but I suppose I understand, deep down. I know he can’t keep looking after me while I’m like this, not after the deal he was forced to make to get me out. It’s my fault so many others are suffering, because he had to agree to whatever Alexi asked of him.
He has an empire to topple, a father to kill, and I am just a constant reminder of a deal gone bad. Or, at least, that’s what the voices keep saying in my head.
The first few times he found me high, he was fine, but when he found me bleeding, he threatened to call Drago. So, it’s not a shock Drago has finally shown up. Now, Drago will be trapped in this cage with me. Yes, this home is lovely and far more comfortable than the aviary Alexi kept me in, but it’s still a cage. Still a place I’m trapped in, while those demons chew away at my sanity.
Drago sits down next to me, looping his hand through mine. “I won’t leave you, rakkaani. I’ll be here no matter what.”
His words, meant to comfort me, only fuel the guilt I hold onto. And the touch that is meant to keep me grounded only pushes me further away.
“You don’t have to keep coming back here, Shadow,” Ciaran says for the hundredth time, it feels like. Since finding out that Drago knew we were mates and the last time he picked me up after my breakdown, I’ve banished him from the penthouse. Again. Drago’s only statement was, he will find a way to make amends and that I have a home at his penthouse, should I need it. He even left a key for me, despite knowing I can get in regardless. A symbolic reminder that I always have a home with him.
Ciaran didn’t argue when I told him my stepbrother was no longer welcome here, but he continues to argue against me returning to the prison to work with him. Truth be told, I don’t know why I can’t walk away, everything in me should be screaming to leave that place behind, but there is a pull in my chest that won’t stop, and when I think of never returning, it physically hurts.
I swipe my hand through my hair, forgetting that I shaved it down. The short ends feeling odd between my fingers. “I get it, it seems weird, but something in me refuses to let me leave that place.” I pause and look him over. “And you need help taking down your father.”
He snorts. “I don’t need help.” But I can see it, the exhaustion that is creeping in on him. A darkness that has slowly taken over my friend and seems to be weighing him down. He cannot continue to bring innocents to his father and expect his soul to remain intact. Which, maybe, is the key difference between us. I lost my soul long ago; now, all that's left is a rotting wound where it should reside.
“Ciaran, I can’t stay here. I’ll lose my mind.” He looks me over, his blond hair braided back and sides shaved, showing off the runes tattooed delicately on his skull. He looks like he wants to keep arguing, but when he goes to open his mouth again, he just shakes his head.
“Fine,” he relents. “You can help, but Shadow . . .” He pauses, uncertainty in his face. “I can’t lose you. I can’t do this all on my own, so if the prison becomes too much, you tell me. I would rather have you here and safe.”
My body sags in relief. That space in my chest is loosening just a bit. I nod my head, despite knowing I’ll never tell him if I’m struggling.
Maybe you’re just excited to go back to a space that could kill you. My dragon may have said it, but it wasn’t far off from my own thoughts. I may not be actively trying to die, but I have no issue allowing it to happen, should the time come.
Ciaran moves toward me, backing me into the wall. Flashes of Drago move through my mind, when he’s crowded into me before. “That wasn’t convincing enough. You do anything stupid, Shadow, I will drag you back from the afterlife myself. Or if I even get a hint of you doing something risky, I will pull you so fast and have Drago lock you up until we can get you help.”
My eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Fucking try me,” he snarls.
“You don’t control death,” I snap.
He laughs, the sound of it hollow as he pushes away from me and walks toward the windows. “You have no idea what I control, or who I know,” he mutters. “Believe me, Shadow, I won’t let you die.”
The words hold such a finality that I cannot argue against them. So, I simply stay quiet while my friend looks over his city.
SEVEN
Alexi Helvig has been taking witches from the streets. More and more disappear, yet it is unclear why he broke the treaty. Even after we gave him the Carmine witch.
– Mori Family Grimoire
Ava
Two hundred and thirty-six hours, that is how long I've been in this box. Nine whole days. I’ve kept track by scratching into the walls with a rock. I can’t be sure how long I was in the other one; I didn’t think to keep track until too much time had passed. I don’t want to make the same mistake by forgetting to track now, even if it is depressing as fuck.
To be fair, it’s a nicer box than the one I was previously housed in. This one has a mattress with only a handful of stains and a wool blanket. At one point, the scratchy piece of material was green, but the stains on it have turned it a brown color that if looked at too long appears vomit toned. This box also has a window, though bars cover it. The one before was just a concrete cage, no mattress or blanket or view. And it’s the view that has kept me grounded, that grove of trees calling to me endlessly. On the nights I can’t keep the tears at bay, I stare longingly at those evergreens. The scent of those trees and just beyond provides a soothing balm to my soul.
I’ve heard mention that a beast used to live in the grove, in a cage made of steel and iron and bone. I have never seen the great creature, but I have dreams of one coming to rescue me. Molten lava pours from its mouth as it burns away the bars that keep me here. Its great roar shatters the stone walls, and its teeth rip apart my captors. We fly away, its great black wings lifting us far from this place. Sometimes, a skeletal beast joins us.
It’s laughable that I’m dreaming of a beast to take me away, given the powers I hold on my own. I have been tempted to tap into that great well of power I hold, but once I do, there will be no mistaking who I am. Or what I am. And I cannot allow that to happen. Despite hating Hell, I can’t risk my brother. Despite Hell being, well, Hell, there are good people there. My people, and I won’t allow them to suffer because of my decision to run away. So, instead, I daydream of being rescued by great winged beasts.
Letting out a long sigh, I drag myself away from my daydream. If my brother could see me now, he would hardly believe how far I've fallen. My heart stutters a bit thinking about him, a deep ache settling in my chest. I miss him. Despite knowing he was so similar to my father in the end, I can’t help but miss him. We have the same dirty blonde hair and deep silver eyes that mark us as royalty. When I was first brought here, I worried my eyes would give me away, but no one seems to have any idea what they mean.
Dropping down into the bed, I go to pull the scratchy blanket over me when the door to my box swings open. I don’t flinch. I have never flinched, and I refuse to start now. I stare at the vampire who has barged in, my eyebrow raised in question. His cheeks flush red in anger at my obvious disregard for him. This guard in particular hates that he can’t inspire fear into me. Something none of these assholes have learned yet is it takes a lot to intimidate the princess of Hell. They can torture me and feed on me, but they can’t break me. I won’t let them break me.
I have had years of training to withstand various forms of torture. They aren’t reinventing the wheel in this prison.
“Hello, Gerald. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, kicking my legs out in front of me on the bed, the picture of relaxation despite my tense muscles. Muscles that are screaming to flee out the door he’s left open. Magic that is screaming to be unleashed.
He smiles wickedly. “I’m hungry.”
I try my best to give him a look of boredom, to quell the fear cropping up in me. “They’ve already fed from me today.” It’s a rule Alexi put into place: you can only feed so much from us on this level.
“You think anyone will care if another whore of a witch ends up dead?” Advancing on me, he reaches down and grabs my hair at the roots, pulling me upward. I don’t make a peep, despite the pain; they want my screams. I just keep staring at him. I can see the anger brewing and know what's coming before his fist connects with my cheek. Blood pools at the corner of my mouth as he drops my body back down on the dirty stone floor. Past him, I see the still open door, light streaming in like a beacon of hope.
Leaning down, he gets close to my face. “No one will give a shit. Just because you are in a nicer cage doesn’t make you any more important.”
I attempt to scramble for the open door, but the vampire is too quick, and he yanks my body back against his. I thrash against the hold, but the moment I feel how it excites him, I stop. Anger and rage pour through my veins. My power flickers just below the surface, and I bite down hard on my lip to keep it under control.
“Mmm, you smell good. I may keep you alive for a while. Maybe I’ll even give you my blood, slowly break you,” he breathes into my ear.
The scent of his breath has me swallowing back bile, but I manage to turn my face to the side and gulp in fresh air. “You have no idea where I came from if you think you can break me,” I growl out, then throw my head back, smashing it into his nose. His hold breaks, and I lurch forward again, but he grabs hold of my legs just as my outstretched arm touches the open doorway. He pulls me back and flings me around so I’m no longer facing the only path of escape.
I let out a loud scream of frustration as he wrestles my body into submission. My mind races—is killing him worth exposing who and what I am? But before I make that decision, the weight lifts off my body, and a strange gurgling noise erupts behind me. Turning my head slightly, I see the tattooed fist through the chest of the vampire just before it pulls back out and the guard drops dead. Behind him stands the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. My heart sings at the sight of him. His dark hair is short but messy. Tattoos cover every part of him, including one across his face. His eyes are a deep whiskey color, and the moment they lock onto mine, a feeling of peace overwhelms me. I know he’s the one I’ve been waiting for when the word “home” shifts through my mind.
Shadow
(“Eat Your Young” – Hozier)
I wipe my bloodied hand on my jeans as I look down at the corpse of the vampire at my feet. “Fuck. This is going to be a pain in the ass to explain,” I grumble. I had heard the voice of a woman arguing with the very dead guard at my feet, heard a fire in that voice that made my dragon wake up. And he rarely wakes up these days. Curiosity got the better of me, and when I saw him pinning her down, the rage that consumed me had no hope of being contained. Just like I can’t contain how good the blood on my hand feels right now. Or that it is making my cock ridiculously hard.
A tiny squeak has me glancing from his body. Pulls my focus away from the blood.
Two silver eyes lock onto mine as they peer through a mess of blonde hair that's matted and dirty.
I’m struck by her beauty immediately. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I say, trying to make myself less intimidating. My dragon rolls its eyes from deep in its cage. The first engagement he’s had with me in a long time. It’s unsettling and mildly annoying.
Her eyes narrow. “And I should trust you, why?” Her voice sends shivers down my spine.
Shrugging, I crouch down to her level. “I guess because I just ripped this person's heart out. Isn’t that enough?”
She lets out a laugh, the sound beautiful and wild in a place that holds no beauty. It lights up my tattered soul in a way that I’ve never experienced, better than any high. I know in this moment I would follow her to the ends of the earth if she commanded it, if for no other reason than to chase that feeling and to hear that laugh again.
When she moves to push herself back, her scent fills the air. Lilac fields envelop the room, like a warm spring day, despite the rank smell of this place. All I can sense is her. The instant it hits me, I feel the leash I have on my dragon strain, his essence fully awake now. I close my eyes for a moment to regain some type of control. Even covered in filth, she makes my mouth water and heart beat out of my chest. My teeth shift, elongating into their dragon form.
