“You can’t be sure she’s a Taker, and certainly not sure of how powerful she is if so!” William’s response was instant, not allowing a second of stillness for me to process what was being said.
Charles paused for a moment, perhaps hoping the temporary silence would cool the anger firing from his son. “Then how else do you explain all the evidence pointing in this direction?”
William didn’t have an immediate answer to this, as he had so instantly before. He sighed with what sounded like great angst. “So what if you’re saying is correct . . . and she is a Taker? What bearing does it have on us being together?”
“What do you mean, what bearing does it have on you two being together?” Charles asked, sounding flabbergasted. “With her unheard of ability to take life, and your equally impressive ability to give life, can you really imagine the Council granting you two a Betrothal?”
I sucked in a long breath, trying to cling to the escaping dream drifting away. I didn’t acknowledge or ponder anything else of what I’d heard, other than what Charles had just said in so many words—William and I would not receive the blessing of a Betrothal from his Council.
“How can you be so sure?” William’s voice returned in all its prior fierceness.
“When the Council learned of your newest gift, they were uneasy to say the least. The Immortal way has always centered upon keeping the careful line of balance in everything we do. Having an Immortal that can give life so easily and without consultation worried them that this balance could be thrown off. But, they are quite familiar with you and well aware of your commitment to our ways . . . and then there are the prophecies—”
“Enough with the talks of prophecies thousands of years old, coming from the mouths of desperate men!” William seethed.
“Whether you believe in the prophecies or not my son, you cannot deny that many others do, and the faith they have in you to do your duty—”
“Enough!” William roared, making the rafters above shake in opposition. “We are not talking about my supposed higher calling tonight, we are talking about Bryn, and my request to be United with her. Will you petition the Council to grant us a Betrothal?” William’s voice shook with the anger he was repressing, but a hint of desperation lay heavy in his words.
Deafening silence ensued. I thought the tension heavy air would suffocate me.
“No William, I will not petition them. They’re terrified of her. The whole Immortal world has been talking of her unheard of power and everyone’s incredibly anxious that Bryn could take their very life from them with the snap of her fingers.”
“She would never do that, she’s got nothing but goodness in her. How can you not see that? How can you not believe me?” William continued, almost begging now.
I choked up for the hundredth time during the exchange when I heard the heaviness pouring from William’s mouth. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and comfort him, but could not interrupt the outpouring of information coming at me.
“Father, please,” William whispered, pausing for a moment. “I know . . . despite everything, you still love me and want the best for me. Can you really, after all these years and all that I’ve been through, deny me this one request? Now that—against all odds—I’ve found her, and beyond some miracle, she loves me, too. Can you really deny your son that?”
Charles sighed heavily, as only a father can who is torn between their child’s wants and their superior knowledge of knowing what is right for them.
“Yes, I can,” Charles answered simply, strongly.
William cried out, “How can you do this to us? Why won’t you present my request before the Council? All we need are three more votes—”
“No, William!” Charles’ voice grew.
“Why?”
“Because as your father, I say no—and as Chancellor of your Council, I say no as well!” Charles strong words shook the stable, and I understood where William’s own fierceness had been learned.
“You will not bless me as a father in my request for a Betrothal, nor will you as a member of my Council?” William asked, with a mixture of disbelief and defeat in his voice.
“I will not on either account. She is too powerful and unpredictable, and you have a far higher calling and purpose destined for you than loving some woman. She can stay at one of your brother’s places until I can find a place for her to be transferred to. She is too much of a temptation for you.”
“If you try to separate us, we will leave,” William swore, his voice shaking from his emotion. “I won’t let you take her away from me.”
“Do you really think by running from your Alliance that you would be immune to Immortal code?” Charles asked. “You would both be susceptible to the punishment of our kind if you chose to defy our codes.”
“No one would be able to find us,” William responded instantly.
“Not everyone, William.”
“What are you saying, Father . . . that you would use your gift against us?” To accompany the anger in William’s voice, there was sadness.
“I would,” Charles said with finality. “I will not let this girl bring any more trouble or destruction upon you.”
The only reply was a set of feet pounding down the stable’s wide hall and exiting through the door from where the two had entered.
“William!” Charles called after his son, before following after him, leaving me alone with the flood of tears running down my face onto the buckskin colored coat beneath me. With William gone, and my desire to comfort him assuaged, the gravity of what just transpired fell heavy upon me, crushing my lungs.
I was a Taker.
William had never mentioned this gift in any of our lessons, but I’d heard enough just now to put the pieces together. The bodies of the seven Councilmen falling from my body replayed through my mind.
I could take life . . . and apparently with the strength to do it alone and without the need for a handful of others. I understood why this would make the Council, and entire Immortal community uneasy, but William was right; I would never harm another . . . unless they were harming anyone important to me.
My lips curled up wickedly when I was reminded of the Council and everything they hurt and wanted to take from me. I could taste the seductive stirrings of revenge on my tongue when I envisioned each one of them wreathing helplessly at my feet while I drained every last bit of . . .
NO!
I shook my head forcefully to clear the evil stirrings running wild. Bitter tears flowed from knowing I was the dark counterpart to William. He could give life, and I could take it. Even before this knowledge of my gift, I knew William’s Council approving a Betrothal for us would be unlikely at best—given his prestige and respect in the community, and me being a new, utterly normal, unpredictable addition—but now knowing what I was . . . there was no hope for a Betrothal now. I knew that before Charles had so vehemently objected as a father, and as a Chancellor.
Our only option now—the only way we could be together—would be to run away as William originally suggested. With the certainty we would never be United by the conventional means, this idea appealed to me with astonishing magnitude.
We could leave and be together . . . but alone, and as the faces of his family flashed before me, I knew if we carried through with what the two of us wanted, there would never be anymore gray skied mornings along the coast where the four brothers surfed, and no more happy family dinners where laughter was the main course. And there was William’s reputation and responsibilities to consider as well—which were obviously much more elevated than he’d let on.
Could I, in all my selfishness, deny my beloved everything he’d created in his life before me, just so I could be with him? The question hung like a suspended guillotine awaiting my answer, but I knew the razor sharp blade would fall either way, no matter what choice I made.
I glanced down at my left wrist where the star-shaped birthmark rested like an omen. I knew now that I was both marked for destiny and a magnet for tragedy, but I also knew I held the power within myself to decide how I would live my life and affect those around me with this awareness of myself; I would control the beast within, it would not control me. I would never allow another loved one to be harmed because of the deadly origins within me.
It was with this knowledge that I propelled myself upright from the billowy straw and left the enlightening confines of the stable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
OUR PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE
A couple hours and a few miles later, I broke through a wall of trees into a large clearing, glowing from the moon rays saturating every blade of grass and tree bough that encroached into the misshapen oval clearing. A coyote’s song rolled across the landscape, mimicking the sound my sorrow would make if I could cry like that.
After leaving the stable, I couldn’t go back to the house of the family I would never become a member of. I’d needed the time—not so much to clear my thoughts and come to peace with them—but to accept them. I had to accept that William and I would not be granted a Betrothal, and with that, I had to accept my response and actions to this. I knew he wouldn’t let this be the end of it, that he’d fight with his life so we could be together, so I knew I needed to prepare and fortress my resolve so his barrage wouldn’t crush it.
That’s when I saw it—a partially framed, two-story home in the very center of the clearing. It was a simple design: rectangular shaped, plenty of squares cut out where windows would one day rest, and the forms for a porch that would wrap around the entire structure. One lone tree stood like a sage, old man on the east side of the home. Despite it barely half-way completed, it was beautiful; a house someone could easily fill with the love and laughter needed to make it into a home.
I strolled through the illumed field towards the house, unable to smother the curiosity I had to explore it. I stepped over the forms that would one day make the porch, and leapt onto the first floor where the front door would hang—I could see it painted my favorite shade of blue.
The wood groaned beneath me as I explored the first floor. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel like the stranger I should have here, in someone else’s home-to-be; perhaps it was because I wouldn’t have changed a single thing in the shell of the house.
The open room design, the kitchen facing to the west where dinners would be graced with the gold sunlight of its farewell departure, and the stone fireplace that stood in the center of the living and dining rooms, where it could be enjoyed from either. This was a home designed by someone with a like mind to me.
I touched the smooth stone fireplace with its quilt made by shades of grey, able to imagine the warmth they would radiate with a fire in its hearth.
“What do you think?” a voice called out behind me.
Under any other circumstances, I would have jumped like a jackrabbit from the surprise of it, but given this voice was one that could fill me with nothing but happiness, I grinned before spinning around.
“You found me,” I stated, struck by the image of William leaning against the doorframe of the front door.