Page 42 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Five

M y head whipped to the side, forcing me to look at the vanity mirror and the angry hand mark on my cheek. I stared at my young reflection and the wobble in my lip, knowing I didn’t want to witness this memory, but my dream-walks were the best way to fix my memory loss.

“You are a daughter of an Archangel. I will not see you behave this way; do you understand me?” His eyes glowed white.

It always seemed like Dad was mad at me. But why?

I nodded, trying to choke back tears. Dad hated tears. They’d only make him angrier.

He inhaled a long breath and blew it out, eyes returning to their normal gray.

Dad’s eyes, right after they lost their white glow, were the worst. The first time, a couple of birthdays ago, I thought it meant he was happy again.

I thought it meant the storm was over. He’d smack me and then hug me.

I learned how to hold in my tears, and it was okay.

But then, something changed, and the smacking wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes my temper gets the better of me; come here,” he motioned with his hands.

I paused, looking up at him. I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t cry.

“Come here. Don’t be a wimp. It’s fine,” he insisted.

He was my dad—or father. That was what he liked to be called now, no longer daddy or dad. Those words got me hit. Now it was father.

But in my head, I called him Dad.

I walked into his arms. My head rested against his stomach, wrapping around his waist. I let a couple of tears leak out onto his shirt, fisting my shaking hands into the fabric. But the hug didn’t stop the sliding noise. My tears turned to quiet streams.

“Why, Dad? I was only playing. I didn’t mean to let my light shine through. It only hurt him a little.” I pulled out of his arms, picked up Thumper, the stuffed animal rabbit, and shoved him into his face. Plastic black pieces speckled Thumper’s head where his ear used to be.

Smack!

My stinging face pressed into the fur of Thumper, hiding the leaky tears and snot from my dad. Needles prickled my skin, pushing out at my tiny body. Tears came faster from the achy feeling.

Don’t let it show. Don’t be a wimp. Maybe he won’t use it.

“Remember what we said about the word dad? You’re older now—none of that. Now, don’t be a wimp; turn around and lift your shirt. You know what I said about your powers last time this happened. ”

I didn’t want to turn. But I didn’t want to be a wimp either. Hugging Thumper, I stared down at my dad’s white shoes. Maybe he’d let it go. Maybe he could just hug me again.

“Turn Lucille, or there will be more than one this time.”

The feeling under my skin increased along with my tears. Don’t show it. Don’t be a wimp.

I turned. I wasn’t a wimp.

“Put your bunny in your mouth. Remember, no noise unless you desire your mother’s anger. Then you’ll never see me again.”

Bunny to my mouth, sniffling, I nodded. I didn’t want my dad never to come back.

I wanted him to love me like Mom did. But he was always mad at me, and I think that was why he left us for so long.

Mom was never mad at me. She always told me how proud she was of me.

But I didn’t want her to leave, too. So I bit Thumper and made sure to clench hard enough no noise would come out for her to hear.

I bit into Thumper with all my strength. When he pressed the buzzing knife in harder, sliding it down my skin, I couldn’t hold back my scream. I couldn’t help being a wimp. It hurt. So much.

I stared with blurry eyes at my purple bed and the other stuffed animals next to my pillows. Their fuzziness looked like home. I wanted to curl up and cry in them.

Once the knife stopped making its line, Dad cleaned up the sliding warmth and bandaged it like last time.

“Now, we won’t tell your mother about this. She wouldn’t be happy with you. Tomorrow, it will be healed, and you can take your bandage off.”

My pink floral shirt dropped back into place, and I turned, nodding into Thumper .

“Wipe those tears. We don’t want helpless wimps in this household.”

I sniffled once more and drug my fisted hand across my face, still staring at my dad’s shoes.

The door opened. “There you are, my darlings,” a pleasant voice said from the hall.

I turned to the voice of my mom.

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?” She came and knelt next to me, holding my chin. Her hand pushed away my wavy hair, looking at me with concern. I looked up at my dad. He raised his eyebrow in expectation.

Swallowing, “I—I was playing and fell off my bed,” I mumbled.

“Hmm. Next time we need to be more careful, okay, baby? But look, it’s already healing up nicely. The redness is almost gone.” My mom tenderly touched my cheek, replacing the sting with a sense of calm.

“Do you want to give Dad a hug before he leaves for a while?” she asked.

I didn’t want to. But Mom was right. I wouldn’t see him until next year on my birthday. He was my dad, after all, and I still loved him even if he hurt me. I wasn’t a wimp. Turning, I swallowed and then hugged him. His fingers pressed into my bandage.

A chill infiltrated my mind, blurring the dream-walk and taking me out of the memory of past me and my father, if that was what you’d call the abusive bastard. At least now I knew where my scars came from. The coldness steadily increased to the point of pain.

I jolted awake, clutching my throbbing head as my teeth chattered. The king finally arrived.

You fell asleep, and I couldn’t find you in your dreams .

I held my head tighter. By the sound of his voice and the intensity of the chill in my brain, he wasn’t thrilled.

Could you possibly bring down the sub-zero temperatures? I asked as I shivered.

Tiny embers glowed in the fire pit, giving only a little light in the pitch black. A couple of feet away, Brock was little more than a faint outline.

I needed to wake you up.

I’m awake. Now what?

Now, things become a tad chillier. Laughter and delight lightened the irritation in his voice.

What the heavenly hell does that mean? If things got any colder, I might pass out from hypothermia.

My sweet Lucille, it is time you realize you possess more than your Glory in that scrawny body of yours.

Scrawny? I glared inside my head.

He laughed.

I know I have more than my Glory, I snapped.

But what were my dark flames? Between the itch, different melodies, wanting to kill, ice, seduction, and black flames—I had no idea what they were.

Black flames? he asked with a smile.

Get out of my thoughts! I yelled.

The temperature dropped. Careful.

Goosebumps crawled along my spine from his deadly tone.

Have you frozen things?

No. I was being a brat.

I don’t appreciate lies. You are wasting time.

You can read my mind; can’t you just figure it out ?

I am only aware of the thoughts that occupy the forefront of your mind, provided they linger long enough for me to discern them.

Maybe you need to discern faster then.

You want to escape and find your mom? he threatened.

That got my attention. Fine, yeah, I have.

Good, he emphasized by dropping the temperature further.

I don’t like this. My thoughts chattered like they would if I said it out loud. Since he knew what was at the forefront of my mind, I knew he knew exactly what I was talking about.

Don’t test me, Lucille. Later, you can learn how to build barriers, but now, you need to stand, he commanded.

I slowly stood and peered around for Aspen, ensuring Brock didn’t wake.

Walk to the carriage.

I held my hands out and shuffled to the wooden box on wheels. At the driver’s seat railing, I waited for the next direction.

Hello? I asked, standing as still as possible while my nerves were jumping out of control.

How did you freeze things?

Most of the time, my anger prompted it to come out. But I’ve gained some control.

He chuckled, low and deep. Interesting. Bring it forth.

How is this going to help me escape?

Do it.

I sighed. Okay, but it may take me a second.

Closing my eyes, I dove to the center of my core, finding the writhing mass of dark energy. At my presence, it perked up, humming with anticipation. I grabbed the mass and tried to force it to the surface. It moved, but slowly. Come on .

It’ll be easier if you don’t force it. Your Infernus is like your thoughts.

They come to you naturally. You don’t need to force yourself to think because your mind is ready to help and work for you.

Your Infernus is the same. It wants to work for you.

Give it your intentions, and let it flow like your thoughts do. Stop forcing it.

At the word Infernus , I lost my grasp on my power. That’s what it’s called?

Yes. Now, bring it forth.

One of the horses tethered to a tree snorted, making me jerk. My ankles gave a slight jingle. Shit. I needed to get these cuffs off me.

Cuffs? he said, oh so very slowly. What. Cuffs?

I swallowed. The ones around my ankles. They stop my Glory ? —

A sudden ice storm raged in my head. I yelped.

Ember Manacles. That’s a problem. Fortunately, they don’t block your Infernus, only angelic power. But you needed to be able to run.

I have a bobby pin; I can unlock them quickly.

Ember Manacles can only be unlocked by one key. They are spelled to resist tampering.

Shit.

We’ll have to make do. Bring forth your Infernus.

“What are you doing?”

I whipped around to find Aspen standing behind me. How didn’t you know Aspen was there?

I only know and see what you do. Clearly.

“Lucille, what are you doing by the carriage?” Aspen demanded, stepping closer. The moonless night masked everything but his soft, glowing eyes.

What should I do ?

A long breath of cold air somehow tickled the hairs on the nape of my neck. Let your power flow, then touch him.

What? I think my brain short-circuited.

Do it.

I dove into my core, and instead of forcing the whirling mass of energy to the surface, I relaxed into it and shared my wants. Eager itches rushed to the surface of my skin, then settled when the purple flame covered my hands.

“Lucille?”

I’m going to help you with the rest. Touch him.

A gale-forced wind of ice made every hair on my skin stand erect. The ice pushed and pulled, coalescing in the back of my mind. But rather than experiencing the frigid temps, it was only slightly cool, feeling more like pressure than anything. The tidal wave of pressure gathered strength.

“What are you?—”

Touch him now!

Startled, I reached out to Aspen, gripping his biceps. The tidal wave crashed. I screamed. White stars disrupted my vision. As the stars cleared, the pressure eased. I opened my heavy eyes.

Ice attached me to Aspen’s fully encased body.

I stumbled back, skin ripping from my hands. Numb, the stinging I should’ve felt got lost in the horror of what I’d done.

He couldn’t breathe in there. He’d die like Marcus’s soldiers.

I panicked. Nausea pushed at my gag reflex. No, no, no, I didn’t want to kill him. I covered my mouth, about to be sick.

Run!

I—but Aspen ? —

His ice-covered body turned blue, intensifying, and reflecting prisms of light through the crystal casing.

Relief gave me breath before reality decided to take it.

Run! The male said, his words weak with strain.

I moved, tripping over my chains, and managed a pitiful shuffle-jog as I stumbled over every root and rock.

To the right. Now your left, he yelled, directing me in the dark.

I followed his every word, missing the silhouettes of trees by mere inches. There was no time to doubt. Trusting the Drune and this male, I emptied my mind and solely focused on his directions.

“Jump.”