The Esoteric Design Page 41

  Aria was silent, not quite believing what the man was telling her.

  “And it was from that moment, I knew it was best to have Troy always at your side.” James nodded.

  “Why?” Aria asked.

  “Because, my dear, who will protect you better than someone who loves you?” James asked with amusement. Aria’s face was red. She suddenly wanted to hide. “How many times has he saved you?”

  Aria was silent a moment. “Too many to count,” she quietly replied.

  “And what about you? How many times have you helped him?” Clarke questioned.

  ‘Well, there was the time I almost blew his head off in the 66th I.R.B.’ She cringed, but she understood what Clarke meant.

  Aria sniffed, dabbing her nose with her sleeve. “He’s all I have left.” Staring at her hands, she shook her head. Clarke watched her, frowning at her distress. “And he may have thought that at one time, but I don’t think he does anymore,” she added.

  “M-Mr. Clarke?” Ivory’s voice interrupted the conversation. Clarke swiftly looked over his shoulder at the tall blonde, revealing Aria sitting beside him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I-I couldn’t find anybody. I got worried.”

  “It’s alright, Ivory,” James reassured the young woman. “I was just having a talk with Aria, that’s all.”

  “Are you alright, Aria? You look awfully sad,” Ivory stated the obvious.

  Aria slowly and audibly blew out a deep breath. “I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” She stood, dusting off her backside. “Come on, let’s find the others.”

  “Call me if you have any further troubles, you hear me?” Clarke said under his breath as Aria and he joined Ivory’s side. Aria, frowning, gave a short nod.

  Walking out into the massive crowd in the streets, Aria finally didn’t feel like the whole world was spotlighted upon her. She and the other two slowly made their ways through the bustling horde which was facing one direction. It made it easy to locate Dovian, the object of everyone’s attention. He was surrounded by Underbelly civilians and looked slightly distraught as each person asked their eager questions and pleaded with him to heal their genetic disorders while others wanted autographs.

  “Dovian?” Ivory chirped.

  Her small voice, though quiet, was easily picked up by the Sorcēarian’s ears. He quickly turned his attention to her and then said to the crowd, “I’m sorry, but I must go. I have much work to do, and if you’d like me to help defend your race against these demons; I’ll have to leave now.” Swiftly, he dodged the many hands reaching out to him and made his way to the others’ sides. “Quickly…” he said with distress, leading the way toward the side streets where Troy was watching from afar.

  Troy pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and quickly joined them. He locked eyes with Aria; the expression he held was pathetic and puppy-like. She twisted her mouth, trying not to give in to his apologetic expression.

  “The plane leaves in just a little over an hour. I already have everything set up so you can go straight through customs without any trouble. I want you to call me as soon as you land in Roma,” James advised, his authoritative tone returning. “We’ll discuss further details once you arrive.”

  Aria nodded.

  “Ivory?” A small and unfamiliar voice called out over the roar of the crowd. “Ivory?!”

  The group stopped and turned to face a quickly approaching girl.

  “Oh, my God! Is that really you?!” she shouted. The girl looked highly distraught as she trotted toward them, her blue eyes wide with shock. Her hair was a tangled mess of blonde that bounced with each step she took; her skin was pale; her frame was tall and slender. She wore a large pastel-blue knitted sweater that hung off one shoulder, jeans that were tattered and torn, and colorful sneakers. Her small hands gripped at a locket around her neck. The resemblance was more than a little alarming. This girl was a spitting image of Ivory. “It’s impossible! You can’t be Ivory!”

  “Who…who are you?” Ivory asked nervously, her hands clamped over the small dog tag hanging from her own neck.

  “It’s me, Fiona. I…I’m your sister,” the girl replied with a matching nervousness.

  Ivory gasped, holding a hand to her lips. Everyone else in the group held similar, stunned expressions. Was this young girl really Ivory’s little sister? Could they possibly figure out Ivory’s mysterious past?

  Pulling at the locket, Fiona opened it and apprehensively revealed a holographic photo to Ivory. Sure enough, the woman in the picture looked identical to Ivory.

  “But,” the girl shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, “it can’t be you. You can’t be Ivory. You should be dead. I watched you; I watched you die. I watched her die.”

  “Die?” Ivory’s voice was high-pitched with confusion.

  “It’s just, you look so much like her! I’m sorry. I just had to be sure I wasn’t seeing a ghost.” Fiona shook her head again, wiping at her eyes as she turned away from the group.

  “Wait!” Aria called out to the girl. “You know Ivory? You really know who she is?”

  “You mean her name is Ivory?” Fiona nearly stumbled over her own two feet.

  Ivory quickly nodded, lifting up her dog tag to reveal the simple name engraved on the metal plate. Fiona looked at it carefully, her mouth gaping open. Though she was tall, she only stood to Ivory’s shoulder.

  “This doesn’t make sense. You were never in the military.” Fiona frowned. “Who are you?”

  “I, I don’t know. I don’t remember any of my past. At least, nothing more than a week ago,” Ivory replied.

  “You…you died over a year ago,” Fiona said.

  Dovian locked eyes with Ivory. She quickly looked away from the large man.

  “How can she be dead? She’s standing right here,” Troy asked. He was just as confused as the two girls.

  “I’m not lying. I have the ashes at home! They’re on a shelf beside the window, Ivory’s favorite place to sit. It’s the only window in the entire house,” Fiona said.

  “How?” Ivory asked. “How did I die?”

  Everyone remained silent, watching the strange young woman.

  “Like I said, it was over a year ago. We had gone to the movies. We went to see that one about the butterflies. You always liked those silly, light-hearted films. But when we were walking home, we were attacked.” Fiona covered her mouth, letting out a soft cry. “It was a group of men. They….” She looked upwards, trying to keep her tears from falling. “Uh, they didn’t like how different we were. They were calling us names, and then they started throwing trash at us. One of the men grabbed me, and you tried to step in. It was then that they…they beat and raped us, and then they tried to kill us. I, I survived.” She lifted her golden curls on one side of her head, revealing a large, round scar. It was a bullet wound. Fiona had survived a shot to the head. “But you…you didn’t make it. I had to cry out for help, but no one ever came. Finally, I had enough strength to crawl to the police station a few blocks away. By the time they got to you, you were long gone. There was no way to save you.” Fiona frowned, staring up at Ivory with saddened eyes. Hesitantly, she pulled Ivory’s hair to the side, revealing a matching scar on the right side of her head. Fiona gasped, tears finally falling down her face. Dovian’s hands reflexively clenched.

  Fiona quickly stepped back. “They sent your body to the crematories. We were given a jar a few days later, and we had a small funeral for you.”

  “We?” Ivory asked, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

  “Dad and I…and a couple of our friends,” Fiona answered.

  “Mom?” Ivory asked; her voice was shaking.

  Fiona lowered her head. “Mom died a long time ago. She was attacked, too. It’s why dad never wanted us to go out alone.”

  “Dad? Where is he?” Ivory asked. Her face held a blank expression as she placed a small hand on Dovian’s shoulder, trying to regain her balance.

  “Are you alright?” he
cautiously asked.

  Fiona shook her head from side to side. “Dad died a few months ago…mining accident.”

  Ivory gasped, her eyes wide and pale, the pupils quickly shrinking in size. Giving a loud cry, she took off at a full sprint away from the group toward the nearest building.

  “Ivory!” Aria shouted along with Fiona. Together, the whole group followed after the frantic woman.

  Squeezing through the sliding door of a small restaurant, Aria and Fiona worriedly looked for the runaway blonde. Dozens of eyes were upon them; dozens of others were facing the opposite direction with concerned expressions.

  “Bathroom,” Aria sputtered, quickly running toward the back of the building.

  Pushing through swinging doors, they entered a small bathroom with rock-inlaid floors. The countertops were made of reflective metals, the mirrors lined with faux gold and brilliant lamps. Though it was a little facility in the Underbelly, the bathroom was relatively clean and classy. They must’ve entered one of the high-end restaurants, which was much to Aria’s relief as she found that Ivory was lying in the middle of the public restroom’s floor, unconscious.

  “Ivory!” Aria shouted, slamming to her knees to check Ivory’s vitals.

  “What happened to her?” Fiona was significantly worried. Her small hands gripped at her long sleeves.

  “She does this from time to time. Now that we know what happened in the past, it’s safe to say that the bullet wound may be the cause of her amnesia and blackouts.” Aria gently lifted Ivory’s head and placed it in her lap.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Fiona asked. She began to cry, pacing back and forth.

  “Yeah, yeah. I think so.” Aria shook the unconscious woman carefully. “Ivory.” She glanced nervously at the sister. “Ivory!” she shouted.

  Ivory’s form began violently convulsing, her mouth opening wide as she sputtered out a harsh gasp. Fiona screamed, covering her face.

  “Damn it! Get help! We need help!” Aria called out. “Dovian!”

  Fiona quickly trotted toward the door, her arms waving in the air as she stuttered to a halt before the abruptly opening door. Dovian, palm outstretched across the door’s surface, slammed it against the stone wall. His eyes quickly dropped to the convulsing Ivory in Aria’s arms. He swiftly approached the women.

  “Hey! You can’t go in there! That’s the ladies' room!” someone shouted from the restaurant.

  “Can it! We’ve got an emergency here!” Troy’s voice sounded from outside the bathroom where he kept watch.

  “She’s having a seizure,” Dovian murmured, quickly tearing at one of the cloths hanging from his black robes beneath his red coat. He hastily rolled the cloth between his hands and placed it in Ivory’s mouth. “Hold her jaw,” he ordered. Aria promptly complied.

  Ivory continued convulsing, her blank eyes staring at the ceiling lights. Fiona stood in the corner of the bathroom, bawling, holding her sleeve-covered hands over her mouth.

  “Ivory!” Dovian shouted, his hands glowing with blue light. He gently placed one hand on her head, the other behind her neck. “I need you to calm down. Calm down, Ivory.”

  Dovian closed his eyes, concentrating on the power coursing through his hands. He tried to visualize Ivory’s brain, trying to find the scar tissue, the misfiring neurons. Nothing, he couldn’t sense anything. And he was alarmed by this.

  “Ivory!” he shouted.

  The tremors caused the poor blonde to make horrible moans. After a few more seconds of aggressive convulsions, Ivory’s arms shot out to the side, violently shoving Dovian against the countertop behind him. Dovian’s large body crushed through the metal surface before dropping to his elbows and knees, his staff clattering to the floor. He winced, reflexively placing a hand on his back.

  “Don’t you dare touch me!” Ivory’s voice boomed with a foreign tone. She quickly stood, pointing an accusatory finger at Dovian. “You loathsome, disgusting monster! You are a disgrace to our race! How can you do this? How?!”

  “I…I’Lanthe?” Dovian gasped. His face held a look of both terror and shock.

  “My name from your lips is like poison! You treacherous bastard! What have you done with Dovian?” she growled, eyes dark with hate.

  Aria joined Fiona’s side. Together, they watched the strange interaction unfold.

  “What are you talking about? It’s me. I’m Dovian,” he said, slowly rising. Gently, he held out his hands toward the woman. “You’re talking to Dovian.”

  Ivory gave him a skeptical look. They both stood rigidly still, watching each other with great caution. In the blink of an eye, she placed her boot underneath the staff and kicked it upwards, catching it in her hands. She quickly spun the weapon and aimed it directly at Dovian’s head. He watched her with fearful eyes.

  “And how do I know you’re not one of his illusions?” she asked, breathing in heavily. Her jaw was clenched tightly in anger.

  “His illusions?” Dovian thought momentarily. Giving a small gasp, he made the connection. “Euclid? You think I’m one of Euclid’s illusions?”

  “Don’t say his name! It’s disgusting!” Ivory spat.

  “No, I’m not one of his illusions. Lanthe, it’s me, Dovian. I’m really here right now, standing before you,” Dovian spoke slowly.

  “Lanthe…” she repeated quietly. “Only Dovian calls me Lanthe.” Her eyes widened then. “But how?! Euclid has you locked up in the tower! How’d you escape?! How’d you get here?” She ran up to him, dropping the staff, the item clanging loudly within the stone and metal room. Frantically, her hands touched his face.

  Dovian looked down upon the woman. Ivory’s eyes searched his features. Her questioning expression quickly turned into one of recognition. He watched with a hopeful smile, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “Dovian!” she shouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. She held him tightly. “I can’t believe it’s really you. I was so afraid he was going to kill you!”

  “He didn’t kill me; I won’t let him,” Dovian whispered. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the ceiling, feeling overwhelmed.

  Ivory quickly pulled away. “But why are you here? I told you to run away! You have to get out of–” She looked to the left and then the right, taking in her surroundings. “…here.”

  ‘No….’ Dovian swallowed hard.

  Ivory looked up at him. “Where am I?!” she asked anxiously.

  “Lanthe….” Dovian reached for the woman.

  “Don’t touch me!” Ivory shouted, stumbling backward. “Where am I?” She looked over her shoulder at Aria and Fiona. “Who are you?!”

  “Lanthe, please!”

  “No! No! This isn’t right!” Ivory dropped to her knees, holding onto her head.

  “Lanthe!” Dovian kneeled beside the woman.

  “My name isn’t Lanthe!” Ivory’s small voice shrieked. She glared at Dovian, her blonde curls falling over her face. Her eyes were wild and mad.

  Dovian halted, feeling his body freeze. He lost her, he lost I’Lanthe once again.

  “Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Ivory!”

  Dovian gaped at the blonde, his expression looked pained. Ivory continued her glare, her eyes fixated upon his.

  “Ivory?” Fiona asked quietly, interrupting the toxic silence.

  Ivory spun, her angry expression quickly fading into one of joy. “Fiona!” She stood and embraced her sister, holding her tightly.

  Aria stood in the corner, watching Dovian. He looked lost as he stared at the floor, sitting on his knees. If she didn’t know any better, she’d guess he just had his heart broken all over again. The man’s hands were shaking, gripping at his robes. Aria waited for a response, anything from the Sorcēarian, but he remained on the floor and unmoving.

  “Dovian,” Aria whispered, taking a step closer to him.

  Shocked, he looked up at her, his usually vibrant eyes were nearly white, the fire extinguished.

  “Aria,” he whispered, wiping
at his face. “Back to reality, eh?”

  “Was that her?” she spoke softly, helping lift the man. He felt extremely heavy in her grasp.

  “I don’t know. I thought it was,” he murmured, watching Ivory and her sister hug one another.

  “How is that possible?” she asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” He lifted his hood, shrouding his face in darkness.

  Quickly, he picked up his staff and headed for the door. Aria started after him but halted, unsure as to how she would help with this current bizarre situation. Just as Dovian reached the exit, Troy’s body slammed through, crashing into him. The two crunched against the stone wall, falling into a heap on the floor.

  “Concussive shot!” Troy gasped, hand pressed against his chest.

  “Get to cover!” Aria shouted at Ivory and Fiona.

  Pointing his staff at the door, Dovian shouted in Legacy, the sound booming in the small room. A large blue field erupted in front of the door, protecting the group from the sudden onslaught of gunfire. He helped Troy stand. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Fine. Just had the wind knocked out of me,” he coughed. Catching Aria’s questioning look, he added, “Looks like Feyette’s team has found us.”

  “Shit!” she shouted.

  They were unarmed. They had no weapons. The items all were in crates waiting to be loaded onto the plane.

  “What are we going to do?” Fiona asked, flinching at the sound of the bullets.

  “Make our escape,” Dovian replied. Aiming his staff at the opposite side of the bathroom, he fired; the stone blasted outwards. One by one, they filed to the outside, Dovian taking the rear. “Take cover immediately; we don’t know–”