The Esoteric Design: Disbanding Hope Page 15

  Ivory giggled.

  Dovian grinned. “Ivory! I am marvelously beautiful!” He theatrically held a hand against his chest.

  “You are!” She nodded, breathless from her laughing fit.

  Dovian lowered his eyes, pointing the knife at her again. Ivory quickly gathered herself, staring at the tip of the blade.

  “I’m…” she hesitated.

  “You’re what?” he asked.

  “I’m beautiful,” she sputtered quickly and quietly.

  “Noooo…” he drawled, shaking his head.

  “I’m beautiful!” she shouted. “I’m BEAUTIFUL! Okay?”

  “You’re beautiful!” he said it again. “And?”

  “And I matter!” she yelled. Ivory laughed, covering her face in embarrassment.

  “So damn beautiful,” he mumbled, staring.

  She eyed him carefully.

  Petey squawked from the hallway as he was much too large for the kitchen, his snout sniffing the air.

  “Petey is beautiful, too,” Dovian muttered, stirring in some liquid to his concoction. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and quickly added, “And Hector. Hector is gloriously beautiful.”

  A different, smaller squawk replied. Dovian smirked and nodded, stirring.

  Ivory continued to watch the man as he prepared their soup. Every so often he would speak to himself, sometimes even argue. The lizards would chime in, and Dovian would respond as if they had actually spoken. It was an entertaining show. It calmed Ivory. Some may have thought Dovian to be an odd bird, but he was actually quite incredible. He lived life for thousands of years and had found interesting ways to cope. From how he laughed at a funny-shaped potato, to the way he spoke Legacy as he created a flame to heat the pot—everything Dovian did was interesting. As long as he had no reminder of the past, he functioned quite well and innocently enough. She wondered if it was due to his Sorcēarian genes that he remained so passive during his more private moments.

  “Soup,” he announced as he set the bowl down before the woman.

  “Smells lovely.” Ivory sniffed the food.

  “Haven’t heard you use that word in a while,” Dovian said. He twirled his spoon in his broth.

  “Haven’t had much of a use for it lately. Until today, that is. Everything about today was lovely. I really enjoyed the lake outside.” She tasted the soup, blowing on it first. She nodded in approval. Dovian smirked as he watched her. “You’re so talented,” she mumbled.

  “It gets rather bland when you eat it as much as I have,” Dovian replied. He cleared his throat. “Wintertime.” The word threw Ivory for a loop.

  “Hm?” She tilted her head.

  “You’ll enjoy the lake during the wintertime as well,” he explained. “It freezes over.”

  “But then you can’t swim in it,” she stated.

  Dovian’s eyebrows rose. “No, it’s best if you don’t swim in a frozen lake, however…you can ice-skate.”

  “Ice-skate?” she curiously asked.

  Dovian nodded, sipping from his bowl. “You seemed to enjoy the ice and snow while in Cherno. I think you would enjoy the winter months here even more. I can teach you to ice-skate.” He noticed Ivory’s lost look. “It’s a form of…dancing one might say…but with blades on your feet.”

  “Blades on their feet?” Ivory wrinkled her nose at the thought.

  “Like knives. You balance on them atop the ice, and then you skate across it–dancing, twirling, or falling on your backside…whichever you’re best at,” he elaborated.

  “I can imagine you are a flawless skater.”

  “Oh…not at first.”

  “You fell?” Her eyes enlarged.

  “Of course; everyone falls.” He folded his arms. “I just happened to fall a lot.”

  “Who taught you?” She immediately regretted asking questions about his past.

  “My mother,” Dovian said quietly. “She taught me, and then I taught Lita. Lita taught I’Lanthe.”

  “Was I’Lanthe any good?”

  “What do you think?” His tone told her everything.

  “She was perfect, wasn’t she?” The woman chopped a bit of potato into smaller pieces.

  “In my eyes she was,” he replied softly.

  Ivory sighed. How could she even compare?

  “But that was a long time ago,” he added.

  “You don’t have to push her memory aside for me, Dovian. It is what it is. She was an important part of your life.”

  “I wouldn’t be half of who I was without her,” Dovian whispered.

  “Was?”

  Lowering his gaze to the lumps of vegetables in his bowl, he replied in a low voice, “I died that day. A large part of me left with her and never returned. Not sure if I’ll ever retrieve it again, but there’s certainly room to grow. Love doesn’t simply end. It transforms, turns into something new.”

  “Do you still love, Dovian?”

  The man was silent. He looked genuinely perplexed as if he hadn’t thought about it before. “Not for a very long time.” His youthful visage now appeared mature and hard. The light in his eyes dimmed, and he looked at the woman next to him. “And not until recently.”

  Ivory took a deep breath. He apparently did feel something for her and the others, there was no doubt about it. Still, she wondered about his motives. “What will you do?” she asked.

  “I will do what is right.”

  “Which is?”

  Now the big question was at hand. What was Dovian doing? What was he going to do? Would he allow the annihilation of his friends and the entire world?

  “I will know when the time arrives.” He abruptly stood and gathered his bowl.

  Ivory snatched his wrist. “Dovian. Don’t leave me in the dark on this. I need to be ready for whatever is to come.” She was becoming more severe in tone, her eyes hardening as she trapped him for once in her icy stare.

  “I’m playing this all by ear.” He swallowed hard.

  “That’s not good enough,” she said in a harsh whisper.

  “Who…who’s talking to me?” Dovian clenched his teeth together, looking at the floor.

  “You can’t leave us in the dark. You have to tell us what is going on,” Ivory said, her voice translating into Legacy. Dovian nearly didn’t recognize the language.

  “If we speak in Legacy, she won’t understand,” Dovian replied, watching Ivory carefully.

  The woman shook her head, sighing. “It’s hard remembering the other languages after all this time,” she said, her voice flowing back into English.

  “Lanthe?” Dovian questioned slowly.

  “Who do you think?” She lifted her head, giving him an eyebrow raise.

  Dropping his bowl onto the counter, Dovian rushed to her, gripping the sides of her face and kissing her. Every moment with her was pure gold. He wasn’t going to waste it, no matter whose body she was occupying. His hands ran down her sides, gripping her hips tightly. His kisses moved from her lips to her jaw, traveling to her earlobe and neck.

  “Dovian,” she gasped.

  “I need you,” he hissed.

  “Not like this,” she said.

  Dovian halted, holding her firmly against him. Her hands ran through his hair; her nails lightly trailed down his neck and shoulders.

  “Please,” he begged.

  “Not like this,” she calmly whispered.

  “You have no idea….”

  “I do,” she reassured him. “This is hard for me, too, but we can’t do this.”

  “Why do you leave me?” He held her tightly, nearly squeezing the air out of her. Their foreheads pressed together.

  “I can’t help it. I’m working on it, but I can’t just take over her whole mind. It’s broken, Dovian. I can’t be whole.”

  Dovian lifted his head, growling at the ceiling above them. “Why?” He closed his eyes.

  She planted a soft kiss beneath his chin. “Patience. Just keep doing what you are doing. You will have me soon enough. U
ntil then, remain strong. Follow the path that will lead you in the right direction.”

  “And what is the right direction?” he asked, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

  “You know the answer to that,” she whispered, running her hand through his hair. She held him, gently swaying back and forth.

  “Tell me….”

  “I won’t,” she denied him.

  “Stay with me….”

  She could barely manage a whisper. “I can’t.”

  “Lanthe,” he started, tying his hands around her waist.

  “Shh,” she shushed him. “Just rest.”

  Dovian obeyed, allowing her to hold him. He had no idea how long he had stayed that way. In fact, he had drifted into a light sleep for a while. When he awoke, he gave a twitch, lifting his head a little from the woman’s shoulder. They were still standing, swaying. Dovian wrapped his arms around her torso, hugging her.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  The woman abruptly stopped moving. He could feel shaking hands on his shoulders and the tremble of her body against his.

  “She…she’s gone,” Ivory whispered, her voice cracking.

  Dovian quickly pulled and turned away, his fingers tightly gripping the sides of the countertop.

  Ivory stared at his back. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice quivered, threatening to break her resolve.

  Dovian didn’t have to turn to know there were tears in her eyes. In fact, he heard her heart break as he remained silent. The sound was a high-pitched gasp—the struggling sound of Ivory trying to regain air in her lungs. He knew that feeling. It was the sensation of a sinking heart that caused the chest to deflate, making it impossible to breathe. It was a soul-crushing pain that felt as if there would never be any relief. He didn’t mean for this. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Ivory did not deserve this kind of treatment.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he managed to get out between his shuddering breaths.

  He was met with silence. Dovian turned, staring at the dark doorway that led into the halls. Ivory was gone. The swinging of the double doors took her place, banging against the stone walls of the cathedral. A moaning wind howled, sweeping cold air into the kitchen. Dovian slammed his fist against the marble countertop, sending cracks down the side. He held his head.

  Thunder rolled.

  "Conflicted"

  Chapter 8

  Dovian leaned on the island of the kitchen, his hands gripping the sides of his head. How could he have screwed up so badly? How could he have hurt Ivory like he just did? What was he going to do about this whole situation? He wanted I’Lanthe. Now that she was awakening more frequently and was showing awareness, Dovian wanted her more than ever. But what about Ivory? What was he going to do about her? He had developed a trust for the blonde, and she had done the same for him. Still he managed, despite all his efforts, to break her heart. The day had been going so well, too. For the first time in nearly a week, he had felt a small amount of joy. Yes, he did enjoy her company. He liked the sound of her laugh and getting caught in her lingering gazes and bright smiles. She was beautiful, but how could he love her? Especially with I’Lanthe trapped inside her mind?

  It was entirely his fault. He had plenty of time in his life to prevent these events. He had plenty of time to secure the future of humanity, yet he stood by and did nothing. Living out his days in a fit of misery and self-pity, Dovian did absolutely nothing to preserve mankind, to preserve his race. Now, he was running out of time. If he didn’t make things right, he would undoubtedly see the ruin of everything for which he sacrificed his race. Would the death of his friends and family be in vain? Would he be able to live with himself in a world full of regret and pain?

  The questions, once again, were too many. Dovian had no answers, and he had no idea which route to take. Had everything he done so far lead up to this point for a reason? Was it supposed to be like this? Perhaps humanity was destined for destruction and this whole time spent alone was Dovian's punishment for going against the order of things. Maybe this was the time to make things right, to wipe the planet of its disease and allow his race to reign supreme and create a perfect world. Except that wasn’t Sapphire’s actual plans; Dovian knew that. How could she promise him a new world like the one he had nearly fifteen thousand years ago? No. Sorcēarians would not reign supreme. The world would be consumed by the souls of the damned, by Sapphire’s demons, and the empty vessels of the biomechanical androids would be inhabited by those who were no longer allowed into the heavens.

  Dovian lurched forward, feeling sick to his stomach. He hadn’t felt pain like this in a while. Groaning, he fought with himself to contain his anger, his frustration, and his sadness. He wanted to tear Ives down brick by brick, burn the yards, and scorch the sky with his pain. After a few minutes of spiraling through his mental illusions of destruction, Dovian centered himself and brought his awareness back to the kitchen where he was idly standing. Why was he feeling like this?

  He gasped, his eyes widening. Of course. His back apparatus was gone. There was no filtration to his energies. What had been created when Dovian was a mere child could become his downfall. Sure, the device had saved him countless times from releasing his boiling rage and had prevented the destruction of many civilizations, but what had it trained him to do? Dovian spent his life with a crutch, something to help support him through his rough days and emotional breakdowns. Now he was a danger not only to himself, but to everyone around him. There was no telling what Dovian would do, what he was capable of doing.

  A small hiss sounded from the corner of the room. Dovian looked over his shoulder to find Hector slipping backward into the hall, his golden eyes narrowing, his pupils dilating. Petey stood, allowing Hector to cower beneath him. A low guttural snarl rumbled inside the giant lizard’s chest. Dovian furrowed his brow, looking the opposite way to gain sight of what had their attention and sent them into a state of alert. The silhouette that occupied the doorway of the kitchen stilled Dovian. Pushing away from the counter, he took a firm stance, pulling his shoulders back.

  Lightning flashed, revealing the foyer outside the kitchen. Beside the doorframe was a tall slender form covered in golden sleek scales. The creature gave a hissing growl, its jagged teeth parting to allow a strand of drool to fall onto the floor. The yellow glow cast from the lanterns in the kitchen caused a glittering dance of light to creep across its skin, giving it the appearance of being made of fire. Black eyes watched Dovian. It didn’t move to attack but remained still and fearsome in its position.

  “What do you want?” Dovian murmured.

  The creature couldn’t speak but lifted its jaw slightly, letting out a breathy sound. The room was humming from its presence. A dark energy flowed from the creature. Dovian’s hands balled into fists. He could feel that the monster had not necessarily come to cause him harm, but rather was a type of message–Sapphire’s calling card.

  In another flash of lightning, the creature was gone, the doors slamming against the wall. Dovian’s skin crawled with goosebumps. He hated the demons. The longer he stared at the absence of the creature’s presence, the more he wished he had taken out some of his pent-up anger on the beast. It wasn’t like Sapphire couldn’t find another one. He would just have to do that later once he arrived in her cave. For now, he needed to put on his robes and get on with his life. No more playing house. Dovian had a mission. It was time to stop dragging his feet.

  “Pete, Hector,” Dovian said in a harsh tone.

  The two lizards stood at alert, watching Dovian with anxious eyes.

  “Find Ivory. Go to her. Protect her. Do not let a single beast near her,” he commanded. He looked over his shoulder at the reptiles; his eyes glimmered like the sun, heat emanating from the orbs. “She will not be harmed.”

  With a loud grunt, Petey trudged forward, his long talons digging into the marble. Hector followed closely behind, his tail wagging from side to side. Petey crashed through the double doors, nearly bre
aking the whole wall. The loud thuds of his footsteps pounded with the thunder as he valiantly moved toward the grand building housing Ivory.

  Dovian moved after them, his black wings sprouting from his back.

  The noise of warfare rumbled, the booms vibrating the rundown hospital. Aria looked out the window. She could see Kovacevic’s men backing slowly toward their city walls. Feyette’s army was relentless. They weren’t going to last long. She heaved a loud sigh, unknowingly the tenth time she had done it in the last five minutes.

  “Will you quit doing that?” Troy asked, annoyed.

  Aria looked back toward the man seated across the room from her. He sat in a cushioned chair, looking a little worn. His arms crossed over his chest; his eyelids were heavy as he fed her an irritated glare.

  “Stop what?” she asked with a huff, air passing through her nostrils.

  “That!” he said. He ran his hands through his hair, his biceps flexing. “You’ve been making that damn breathing noise nonstop since we got here!”

  Aria glowered. “So I can’t breathe?”

  “You can breathe! Just do it…I dunno…more quietly?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

  Aria returned her attention to the battle, giving a groaning growl instead. She was unusually irritable today. “I hate sitting in this stupid hospital while Kovacevic’s men are out there getting slaughtered.”

  “He told us to stay here,” Troy said. “So we’re staying here.”

  She raised her hand toward the window. “They are dying, Troy!” Aria griped as her hand dropped into her lap.

  “And you want to just run out there and die with them?” he asked.

  She folded her arms, her fingers tapping against her skin.

  “Look at you. You haven’t even changed your clothes!” he said.

  “Neither have you,” she fussed.

  “Eh, well…I have clothes ON!”

  Aria glanced down at herself. She was still wearing her workout gear from the previous day. She had at one time been wearing her matching jacket, but the heat of Saray seemed to be burning through the hospital. Since Euclid stole the reactor, Saray had to rely on its natural reserves for energy, but it was only to be used sparingly. Thus, the only things cooling the hospital patients were thin fans in the ceiling.