Page 23 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty (The Legacy of Aquila Hall #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DOROTHEE

It was a big accomplishment for me to stuff my notes in my backpack while running down the stairs without falling.

I tried not to curse myself too much for giving my papers dog-ears, since I really did not have time for that. There was not one day more passing by where I wanted to stay oblivious to what was happening right under my nose. And I already had the weekend for self-pity and tears over my possible death, so I wouldn’t waste any more time.

The clouds above me looked ready to cry tears of sorrow at any moment, but I was sure it wouldn’t rain today. It had rained all morning, and I’d learned that the weather tended to only cry tears once a day, some days longer than others, but rarely ever twice.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I closed the buttons on my very worn brown leather jacket that was at least two sizes too big for me. I had bought it the last time I was in Owley, in a second-hand shop, and since then, I had abandoned the cloak my mother had packed me.

Because I still had some dignity left, I slowed down to a normal walk when I was finally outside the stables. I might have pathetically clung to the fact that I could learn more about who I am from the Kingstone heir, but he didn’t need to see how much our deal meant to me.

Standing in front of the closed door of the stables, I inhaled deeply, soothing the crippling anxiety creeping up my limbs.

This was it. Answers. All I ever wanted. And even though I had already faced lots of them on Halloween, this was different. The answers I already had were general. This was purely about me and the way all of my abilities had affected my life.

I threw the door open a little too dramatically, though it wasn’t my fault but the wind, which supported this overly embarrassing entrance.

Archer stood with his back to me, and he didn’t look like he was about to move as he brushed his midnight-black horse’s mane in gentle strokes.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered.

I froze in place, and for a second, I thought about the possibility that he might think I was someone else—someone he was waiting for. If so, then this was terribly awkward.

“You know, while I do appreciate your fascination with me, I would prefer to be able to hear your snickering instead of having to imagine it.”

“I do not snicker,” I disagreed, and he put the harrow down, his tense shoulders relaxing a little, and I could have slapped myself for this being the first thing I had to say to him. My plan was to keep my chin up and act like the total opposite of the person I normally am.

Archer was the one who awakened something in me that had been asleep ever since I experienced my mother's shame whenever she had to go into public places with her daughter.

He moved to grab an apple from a bucket, offering it to the black horse. “But you agree to watch me when you believe I’m not aware of your icy eyes on me?”

“You’ve got nothing to say. Your eyes lay constantly on me during every break we are near one another,” I shot back.

“I never denied that, did I, Doe?” No, he hadn’t. And this was the first time he had called me by the nickname Maisie had given me. “In contrast to you, I know that you’re very aware of my gaze. Stalking people without their knowledge is pretty rude, if you ask me.”

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Well, I didn’t ask you. And more importantly, I didn’t stalk you, Arsehole.”

“I like looking at you because you’re mesmerising. A fallen star burning with loss and sorrow from having left its place in the constellation where it belongs, to the side of light and freedom.”

Archer turned around and took a step forward, looking down at me, and I found myself lost in the confusion of his words and tangled in the colour of his eyes.

“Other people would refer to such a feeling as finding me pretty.”

He formed his eyes into slits, and for a brief moment, the hint of a grin played on his lips.

“Pretty isn’t the right word to describe you. It belittles how it feels to look at you.”

Heat shot into my cheeks, and it took everything I had to rip my gaze away from his. I wanted to say something, but I found no words, because the ones he had just said touched something deep inside of me. Like his fingertips had just brushed a forbidden part of my soul.

Fallen Star.

A title so familiar and still so strange. I’m almost sure that someone had called me this before, but the more I tried to remember, the further away the memory hid.

“You should sign up for the Dead Poets Society, Shakespeare,” I joked, trying to ease some of the tension growing inside of me the longer I felt his gaze staring right through the deepest pits of my heart.

Somehow, I managed to look at him again, and I couldn’t help but smile as I found his eyes memorising every feature of my face.

Archer leaned back against the wooden beams, crossing his arms. “You think of yourself as untouchable, and I admire that.”

I scoffed, “why? Did you think I would fall onto my knees, begging for a taste of the majestic Kingstone heir?”

“You think I’m majestic?” Archer looked amused.

“I just needed a word to describe your ego.”

“Sure. And no, I didn’t peg you to fold for anyone giving you a piece of their soul in the form of poetry. Now,” Archer pushed off the beam and tossed me a helmet he grabbed from a hook on the wall. “Tell me if you’ve ever sat on a horse before, Fallen Star?”

At the nickname, a laugh slipped past my lips, and I let it go, shaking my head at his question. Archer stepped with one foot on a stool that stood beside the animal and swung his other foot easily over the other side, gripping the bridle. When he was all seated, his attention turned back to me, and he held out a hand to where the stool stood.

I shook my head. “No.”

“There is somewhere we can experiment with the ability of your sight.”

I shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the thought of getting on the back of this monstrous horse. The animal was huge, and I had always had such great respect for horses that it developed into a fear.

My mother held horses behind our manor, and I had sneaked in at a na?ve young age. I wanted to feed them the apples that had fallen off the tree in our backyard. What I didn’t know was that one of the horses was once wild and was as scared of humans as I was of them since then. He had tried to kick me as I went too close, and I fell back, breaking my wrist.

“What if I’m scared of horses?”

Archer nodded towards the bucket filled with apples and carrots. “Give her one. You’ll see she won’t bite you.”

“But what if she does? Can’t we just walk, please?”

“No. Now, grab a carrot,” he commanded, but didn’t raise his voice.

Just say no and walk away, Dorothee.

But no, I wouldn’t do that. I wasn’t a coward, and since I was already growing so much in this place, I could overcome my fear of horses just as easily. Easy . Yeah, this was going to be easy. Or maybe he was joking and wanted me to get bitten by his horse.

I pulled out the longest carrot I could find to make sure I had enough space between my hand and the teeth.

“What’s her name?” I asked, waiting until he gave me an answer before I made my next move.

“Ebony.”

I frowned at him, expecting anything but that dull of a name. “How creative to name your black horse after a shade of black .”

“My sister tried to convince me to name her Black Beauty. Would you have liked that name more?”

“Suddenly, Ebony sounds like such a lovely name,” I murmured, and he chuckled lowly.

Stepping closer, her eyes moved to the carrot, and I held it out towards her, ensuring there was plenty of space between us.

“Hi Ebony, I’m Dorothee, and I promise you I’m actually really nice and would never hurt you, so I’d really appreciate it if you could return that promise, since I rather like my hand,” I begged, almost cringing as she took the carrot. I felt like the girl in my family’s stables again, but instead of letting her anger out on me, Ebony licked the vegetable before taking it fully and eating it in peace.

“I told you. Now hurry up, or we’ll be late.” Archer held out his hand once more. This time, I accepted his invitation, stepping onto the stool, and he helped me to sit behind him.

I was grateful that it had grown so cold outside that I’d decided to wear trousers instead of my skirt to my uniform today.

“You can leave your bag in the stables. No one will come here today but me,” Archer said, and with shaky hands, I pushed my bag off my shoulder, throwing it down next to the stool.

He reached for a helmet dangling off a hook and handed it to me. “Set the helmet on, and then we’ll leave.”

“Why do I have to wear a helmet, but you don’t?”

“Because I’m not trembling like a poor lamb knowing it’s to be butchered by the end of the day.”

I thought about arguing with him but let it go because he had a point while I had none. As soon as the helmet clipped into place, Ebony started to walk slowly towards the stable doors. In the span of a second, I swung my arms around Archer’s waist and held on tight. He surprisingly didn’t say anything about my action and continued to lead Ebony outside while I worked on controlling my trembling.

I was just a little afraid. It’d pass.

“You can close your eyes if it helps,” Archer stupidly suggested as his horse started to walk faster, almost fully galloping now.

“What if you lose control of her?” I asked anxiously, pressing my cheek against his back. In this moment, I didn’t care that I wasn’t supposed to be this close to him, that I should have some dignity and draw the line between me and the boy who’d disrespected me several times. But the fear of falling was greater.

“I won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” he promised.

Ebony was running fast, and we were leaving the school campus. The trees blurred in front of me as she ran. What did he even want off campus? We weren’t supposed to use our sight properly away from Aquila.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hold on tighter, but I was already holding onto Archer with everything I had, our bodies practically melting into one.

“Mai said you took the things you discovered on Samhain pretty terribly.”

I silently promised never to let Maisie join me in my misery ever again. “What was your reaction when you first realised you’d die like your great-uncle if we didn’t find a lost book with no clue as to where it might be hidden?” I shot back in disbelief, because who wouldn’t take this news terribly? “I’m sorry, but next time, I’ll throw a bash where I’ll share my testament and the flowers I’d like on my tomb.”

His body shook with quiet laughter, and I peeked through my closed lids, taking in our surroundings. We weren’t on campus anymore, or at least I guessed we weren’t because I’d never seen this place before. Archer was walking Ebony across a field that looked like it hadn’t been mowed since last summer. Mountains of forest were visible from our location, and I had to admit this place felt like I was in a fantasy novel—minus the dragons and goblins.

As much as Aquila, Owley, and everything surrounding these places scared me, the terror they formed had its own kind of beauty.

“Death doesn’t scare me. I’ve never thought of myself as having weekly nightmares about the idea of disappearing.” Archer’s answer gave me a slight chill. Maybe it was the fact that a boy who didn’t fear death was leading me into the middle of nowhere.

“Death is supposed to scare you. We’re taught from a young age that we don’t know what awaits us beyond the veil of the dead. Possibly, you’ll live through hell every second after this life.”

“Maybe I’ll live in heaven, in a place where every soul exists in equality,” he replied coolly. “Life is only ever heaven if you’re at the top of the food chain, Dorothee. And that’s what we’re not, and never will be. I’m aware there are people suffering far worse than I could ever imagine. But suffering isn’t comparable. We’re a disgrace. People paint us as crazy, worthless to stand at their side while others are watching. This whole never-ending cycle started with our parents looking into the eyes of their child with the burning sensation that you’re their greatest disappointment.”

His words left me at a loss.

“If Death knocked on your door, informing you that he’d like to claim your soul by nightfall, who would you run to first? What would you do on your last day walking among the living?” he asked, the wind brushing my hair out of my eyes as Ebony ran faster.

I thought about his question, and a sudden wave of sadness hit me. My heart ached when no answer came within seconds.

There should be an answer. I should shout names, activities, perhaps a bucket list. But my mind was empty.

I could spend my last hours with my mother and father, but my parents wouldn’t suffer from the loss of me.

How can you miss something that’s been a burden on your heart all your life?

There were no friends, no brother or sister, not even a lover I could cling to when death reached for me.

Knowledge had kept me at bay most of my life. Learning and craving structure, answers were my lifeline. The realisation was almost sad. I was seventeen, and my life held no value to me or anyone else.

“I’d ask him to tell me a tale,” I answered.

“A tale from death himself?”

“Death holds the answer to destiny and the fate of the soul he claims. I’d like to know the person I could have been if I’d been the perfect daughter.”

“What would bring you his answer in the afterlife? You can’t change a path once you’ve already set foot on it,” Archer asked.

“Peace, perhaps,” I breathed. “If he told me a tale about a little girl who’d been cared for by her father after she’d fallen and scraped her knees, a little girl who got to hear her mother’s advice on girlhood, I’d be a saddened soul but accept death in the end anyway. But if he told me that the little girl would have been just as pained by her parents’ ignorance as she had been with who I am, I’d find peace in the knowledge that it was never my fault.”

I like to think it had never been me, but rather my parents, who couldn’t have given me their love in any parallel universe we might exist as a family.

“That would take away your fear of the afterlife?” Archer asked, pulling on Ebony’s holster to slow her down as she made her way into an open forest.

“No. Besides, we don’t know if something like the afterlife exists. Maybe everything will just be black forever. Or worse, I’ll turn into a spirit and be forced to see your face for the rest of eternity,” I joked, and he let out a laugh that made my head spin a little. I was sure that he’d soon reach his breaking point and accept me as a friend, instead of acting so tough and cold around me.

“You’d be pleased to be a spirit driving me to insanity with that red hair of yours,” he huffed, bringing the horse to a halt and slipping smoothly off her back.

I watched him as he bound her holster around the fence of a graveyard. The thought of being next to a place where hundreds of spirits could linger was unsettling. Nothing in me screamed to experience another dead soul making an attempt on my life. Two had been more than enough for me.

I couldn’t help but grin at him, burying my fear in the farthest corner of my mind. “You’d go insane for my hair, mmh?”

Archer walked over to me, frowning. “Mostly the way you spook around in history class, listening to Kane through the veil like the good little student you are. But sure, your hair would be a factor that leads to my insanity too.” He shrugged and pressed his lips into a thin line to hide the amusement our conversation brought him.

A failing attempt, I have to mention.

“If I were a spirit, my only goal would be to haunt you for not telling me the truth sooner,” I snapped at him, trying to fight the urge to continue our bickering like he hadn’t acted like an emotionless arse for the past weeks.

“What a pleasure to hear I’m important enough to you to want to haunt me, milady,” he scoffed, walking up to my side and gesturing for me to swing my legs over. I had to hold onto Ebony’s back in my attempt not to fall and—less importantly—not kick Archer in the process.

“You might be right there. I don’t want you to think you’re that important to me, so maybe I’ll stick to Jesse’s side, and we’ll play chess until one of us feels the urge to strangle the other. But since I’d be dead, it’ll be rather interesting if he tries,” I said, catching myself smirking at the idea of spending eternity with Jesse. He’d quite grown on me, and I enjoyed the afternoons in his room where he tried his best to teach me chess while the Smiths played on his record player.

Nathaniel spent most of his spare time in our room with Maisie, and as much as I didn’t mind him just hanging around on his girlfriend’s bed with a book while she slept by his side, I wanted to give them some time alone like they had before I joined the academy. So, two weeks ago, I’d grabbed some biscuits from the kitchen and knocked on Jesse’s door.

You didn’t need to be an empath to sense that he enjoyed the company. My guess was that he’d never learned how it feels to be a loner, growing up in a family with so many siblings.

Suddenly, Archer reached for me, pulling me by the waist off the back of his horse, making me shriek in surprise. He steadied me and clapped his hands on both sides of my shoulders. “Enough talk about death. We’ve made a deal. I teach you everything I’ve learnt about our abilities, and you trust us, at least try to. You’re part of our secret society now, which means working day and night to uncover the lost memories and the Book of Shadows to prevent our deaths.”

I slapped his arm. “Just because I’m starting to trust you doesn’t mean you can yank me off your horse without warning, Arsehole,” I scowled up at him. Archer shrugged innocently and walked past me, stroking his hand over Ebony’s fur. “We’ll be right back, sweet girl.”

Should I be concerned that he’s more polite to an animal than to an actual human?

He walked through the gates of the old graveyard without a second of hesitation, leaving me no choice but to follow him. He was right. We had a deal. And if I wanted to know everything there was to learn about my kind and spirits, I had to fight the crippling fear creeping up my neck at all times. I followed him, jogging to catch up.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as he took a turn off the official path, heading into the trees surrounding the property.

“You’ll see. Now hurry, or we’ll miss it,” he replied, checking his watch before coming to a halt between two enormous trees. I almost bumped into him at the abrupt stop.

“And what will we miss?”

“So talkative today, Miss De Loughrey,” he murmured, not looking at me but at the empty graveyard ahead.

“Someone has to be, since you’re so annoyingly silent, Mister Kingstone,” I shot back, following his gaze. The sound of a woman’s laughter carried on the wind.

The next moment, a stunningly beautiful woman ran past our hiding spot in a puffy white dress. It looked more suitable for a wedding than a graveyard. Her blonde curls bounced as she twirled along the path between the graves, as though having the time of her life.

“You can’t catch me, Vic!” she called between bursts of laughter, dancing all alone. The winter breeze was her only partner. “Vic?” she called again, slowing down and glancing around the area, as though her groom had vanished. Maybe he hadn’t been there at all. “Come on, Vic, you know everyone is waiting for us. It’ll be a shame if the bride and groom don’t attend their own wedding on time,” she giggled.

I didn’t know why Archer thought it was important to watch a poor woman dancing all alone in a graveyard, clearly confused. It was sad, honestly, and I wanted nothing more than to approach her and ask if she needed help.

“Maybe we should help her—” I suggested, but the moment I spoke, a man appeared behind her. He caught her around the waist and twirled her in the air, making her let out a surprised scream.

“It’s not a wedding without a groom and bride, my dear,” the man, presumably Vic, whispered in her ear. The wind carried his voice in our direction. “So let them wait as long as we like. It’s our day, after all.”

The bride leaned into him with a smile that showed she agreed with his sentiment.

“We have all the time in the world, and so much more,” she replied, spinning to face him.

The way they looked at each other seemed almost unreal. It was too full of love. No one could look at another person like that, as though they’d devour their very life for them. Love like that didn’t exist. It was a fairytale.

“Are they spirits?” I whispered to the boy beside me, noticing then how his shoulder brushed against mine. A shiver ran down my spine.

Archer nodded slowly. “It was a tragedy. They died right after this dance,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. “A deer ran into the passenger side of their car, causing it to lose control and crash into a tree. They never made it to their wedding.”

I turned my gaze back to the couple, who had started dancing slowly in the middle of the path. My heart ached. The bride rested her head on his chest, smiling as though he was the only man in the world, while he held her as if she was his entire universe.

As I watched them, I could almost hear faint, soft music carried by the breeze through the falling leaves around them.

“Life can be so cruel,” I murmured, my voice breaking at the thought of their tragedy. To imagine loving someone so deeply, desiring to spend one’s life with them, only for it to be ripped away moments before it began—it was unbearable. If only they hadn’t danced, or if they’d been on time, the deer might not have been there.

A tear slid down my cheek, and I felt a hand on my chin, gently turning my face towards him. His thumb caught another tear before it could fall completely. Turning from the dancing couple, I looked up at Archer, seeing something I never thought I’d see, a crack in his mask.

His eyebrows furrowed in sadness. "Some spirits create an illusion of the situation they cling to, rather than wandering the earth caught behind the veil. We call it a time loop.” His eyes returned to the couple, and I followed his gaze. “We think the veil holds only souls who still feel attachment to this world. Perhaps a person. Naomi once described it as feeling similar to grief.”

“They’re grieving the life they could have had,” I concluded. Archer nodded without looking at me.

“I’ve never met a spirit who died of old age,” he agreed, his hand retreating from my cheek. Emptiness lingered in its wake, making me crave something to fill it. But I couldn’t have that.

“How did you know they were spirits?” Archer asked, changing the subject. I stiffened, looking at them more closely.

I shrugged my shoulders. “They felt surreal, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“No, that’s a good start. You’re right, spirits don’t feel like you and I do. Humans feel…”

“Strong-minded, like rage, like… a hard rock.”

Archer chuckled but nodded. “Couldn’t have explained it better. And spirits feel…”

“Lost, free. They’re so magnificent that just their appearance, their movement, makes me want to be drawn to them.”

Well, that was only the case when they weren’t covered in blood or burned to the point of death.

The memory made bile rise in my throat. I still dreamed of the woman with the burned flesh.

Archer turned me gently so I was facing the couple, still dancing so gracefully their movements made me want to close in on them, to join them in their dance.

“Watch them closely. Do you see the veil dancing with them? It’s almost completely transparent, but if you’re aware of what they are and concentrate on their every movement, it reveals itself to you.”

I did as Archer said, blocking out the desire to dance with the wind. The bride and groom moved with grace, but their movements were too smooth to feel natural… and then I saw it. Like mist clinging to their bodies, it moved with them, claiming them as belonging to death, not the living.

“Spirits feel like desire. That’s how you know they’re not human. Humans feel dark, while spirits feel like light itself. Bloody hell, I wish I could tell you why that is, but we’ve only got theories so far,” he cursed, his hard facade almost softening in this moment. It was nice that he was talking to me like an equal.

The couple materialised into thin air, and they were gone.

I turned to Archer, frowning in question. “How did I not know Gwyn was a spirit?” Sadness pricked my heart at the thought of the fourteen-year-old girl who felt so lonely she only wanted someone by her side. I knew it didn’t excuse what she tried to do to me, but I still felt bad for her, wishing there was something I could do to make her feel less lonely that didn’t include me joining her in death.

“Gwyneth is… she’s filled with sorrow over the loss of her life. She was so young when her flame was extinguished. She wants company more than anything, in life as in death. Younger spirits can easily slip through the veil straight to your heart. That’s what she did to you. She made you her friend, and it made you feel safe, comforted, didn’t it?” he asked. I had thought this question might be an accusation of how na?ve I was, but his voice wasn’t angry, he almost sounded understanding.

So I was honest and nodded. “I don’t think I’ve trusted someone this much in years, but she used my trust against me.”

Sometimes, I question who I really am.

If I’m silent, I’m too quiet.

If I talk, I’m too noisy.

I was supposed to leave my trust issues behind me, but when I felt safe in someone’s arms, I was just a na?ve little girl.

But Archer didn’t blame me. It was odd. Because since childhood, everything was somehow my fault. But then he said these words, the exact words I had never heard before, “It wasn’t your fault.” I felt some kind of relief. “It was Samhain, and the veil was the thinnest it had been all year. The problem with our kind is that we can’t risk letting spirits enjoy the feeling of someone believing in them, because belief is one of the strongest abilities that exist in our world. We can’t raise the dead, but we can make them reach for us through the veil when the time is right.”

Everything suddenly became so clear. “That’s why she could touch me on Samhain. That’s why I lost my necklace.” Instinctively, I reached for the crystal around my neck and remembered the piercing pain it had caused when Gwyn had ripped it off that night. “I gave her the power over me, and not even the tourmaline was strong enough to protect me.”

“Samhain is a cruel holiday when you’re forced to spend it at Aquila. They have power over us, and it doesn’t matter how strong-minded we are, they can mess with our heads as much as they like because Samhain is the night of the dead.”

I hadn’t noticed that Archer had his hand at the base of my spine, guiding me back to Ebony as the night slowly crept in.

“But why had she tried to drown me? And why did Alessandra try to lure me to death the way she had killed herself?” I pleaded, facing him.

We stopped walking, and all I could see in Archer’s eyes were the same questions I had, but none of them held an answer.

“I don’t know, but I have a theory that they’re trying to prevent history from repeating itself. Whatever happened with our great-uncle and aunt went deeper than just some accident.”

“But why would ending my life solve this problem?” It didn’t make sense to me. If I was supposed to die, and they were attempting to change fate, then why was I supposed to meet the same fate that was already my destiny?

Archer looked like it physically pained him not to have an answer to give me in this moment, when I needed it most. I took a frustrated breath as panic made its way through my veins.

“I don’t want to die, Archer.”

He shook his head, his eyes hardening in a way that wasn’t meant to scare me off. “You won’t die, Dorothee. We’ve got this. We’ll find this damn book and all the lost memories of our bloodline. This isn’t our fate. I promise we’ll weave the strings of fate into a destiny of our own choosing, because this is our life.”