Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2) Read online

  Chapter 2

  Vareilious

  (vah-REEL-ee-us)

  When I beheld my majestic Guardian standing before me, my joy was lifted to the heavens. The heartbreaking spell I’d been under was broken by his regal growl. Merodach’s drugs no longer clouded my mind and all was right with the world again.

  My first love, Alastyn, was freed from his self-imposed horse bondage. The cursed Shadow Wraiths now roamed the beautiful palace on wobbly human legs, bewildered and confused, but free.

  I headed back to Vanahirdem with my loyal friend, Vareilious, who to his valiant credit, only stopped once to speak of what he had heard.

  In my hazy dream world, I had confessed my undying love for him. Not for Varick, and not for Dante, but for Vareilious. I professed hidden desires and spoke aloud things that should never have been given voice.

  “My perfect love, I know now your true feelings for me. I desperately needed your declaration to validate my tormented soul. I shall press you no more, for it is a sin against you and my brother to do so. Yet know this, my enchanting maiden. I will always be with you. God Himself will never let me forsake you. I have only ever loved you, Jenevier. Always remember that. Now I will wing you to your magical wedding and my blessed brother. We will never speak of this again, tiny Angel. But I will never forget it.”

  He whispered that last part. Yet, I heard him.

  Vareilious tenderly kissed my forehead and smiled. Then, we made our way back to our beautiful, ethereal home—Vanahirdem, the city of my heart.

  *****

  We were met with neither glorious wedding bells nor shouts of praise and victory. Instead, our Commander-in-Chief, Valadrog, stood within the gate as all Vanir stood, downcast, behind him.

  “Warrior Vareilious, you were witness to the execution?”

  Valadrog’s booming voice, even when kind, caused me to tremble.

  “Yes, Father, and it was glorious!”

  Vareilious recounted the entire episode with minute detail. How he had sensed me, how he heard me (he left out the part we were never to mention again), and how his growls broke the spell, clearing my mind. He then recited, with added dramatic effects, every single word exchange between me and Prince Merodach. He even acted out some of the gory parts and finished his excited reenactment with a radiant smile spread across his angelic face.

  “It’s true then,” Varick solemnly said as he stepped forward to stand between his majestic parents.

  The elegant Vareen, with her hands outstretched, spoke the words as God revealed them to her. She told of the glorious plans He had in store for Merodach, Wrothdem, and the entire fourth layer realm of Ashgard.

  I was in shock. My legs would have betrayed me if not for the support of my ever loyal friend and brother, Vareilious.

  “So it has been witnessed, so it has been spoken—” Varick’s words broke off with bitter sobs. “Mother, I cannot.”

  “You have no choice, my son. None of us do. Whether you speak the words or not, the guilt remains and the sentencing will come.”

  “I love her. She is my Anicee. The guilt is mine! I trained her to carry out this very deed. Now, I am to stand in judgment of her? For simply doing what we all knew she was here to learn to do? How is this justice?”

  “And we may yet have to stand before God for our part in this vile murder,” Vareen whispered.

  I could barely speak. Nothing being said was making any sense. “Murder? You accuse me of murder?”

  “No, my child, God accuses you. Vareilious gave testimony and now your beloved Varick must judge you. Apologies, my child, we are so sorry for what we have done to you—”

  Vareen’s tears choked off her words. Valadrog took over for her.

  “In our zealous quest to save you, dear child, we have brought about your ultimate demise.”

  “I am to die? But, you of all people know the treacherous sins this one man has committed against hundreds of innocents. My executions have never been deemed murder before. I don’t understand.”

  “At the end of things, dear child, Merodach was repentant. He begged you for mercy. Mercy you could have granted, but denied him. Have you ever carried out a summons where the guilty pleaded for forgiveness?”

  I answered the wise warrior the only way I could. “No, sir.”

  “Yes, and that’s because they had gone past mercy. They had sinned past accepting grace. Only then does God hand down the summons. There was no order against the man, no summons for you to carry out, child. This… well, this you did on your own.”

  “I see.” My voice sounded so tiny.

  I looked to my beautiful brothers and sisters. Every eye was glassed over with sorrowful tears, every head lowered.

  “Apologies, dearest family, forgive me. I selfishly acted out of vengeance and I will accept whatever punishment God demands. Varick, my love, please continue. I do not hold you at fault, dear husband. I acted alone and I do not wish God’s anger to be kindled against any of you because of my sins. Don’t make my guilt all the greater. Speak it now and let it be done. My heart will always be yours. I’m sorry I failed you, all of you.”

  I fell to my weary knees, bowed my head, and numbly accepted my fate.

  Varick’s shaky voice continued with the ardent task he had no choice but to perform. “So it has been witnessed, so it has been spoken. Jenevier Olesia Embarr, sister Vanir, loving wife of my soul. My most precious Anicee, because your sin was committed egregiously and with prideful vengeance, and because this one sin has unduly harmed an entire layer of this universe, your sentence can be nothing less… than death.”

  “No!” Vareilious screamed as he lunged for Varick’s throat.

  Varick made no move to resist him. He kept his tearful eyes on me alone. I know my beloved wished only to share in my sentence with me.

  Valadrog pulled the enraged warrior off his shattered son. “Calm yourself, Vareilious. You of all people know Varick can only speak the words God places in his mouth for sentencing. Can you not see he wishes for you to kill him before he has to witness her execution?”

  Vareilious calmed as Varick numbly mouthed out the rest of my judgment.

  “The sentence is death and it is to be carried out, forthwith, by the warrior servant of God… Vareilious.”

  Varick fell to his knees, reaching out to lovingly touch my bowed head before it was severed from my trembling body. I looked up to meet his beautiful amber eyes for the last time.

  “This was supposed to be my wedding day,” I whispered.

  Sobs shook my betrothed’s massive body as Vareilious’s protests echoed throughout the Thralldom Mountains.

  “No! I refuse! I will not do this thing. God will have to strike me dead first, for if I unsheathe this holy sword, it will be to remove my own head, not hers. Not the only woman I have ever loved. Not by my hand.”

  “Stop this immediately!” I’d never heard Vareen’s voice so shrill, so terrified. “Stop defying an order from God lest you fall beside her by His hand.”

  “Then so be it. I will not kill her. You do it, Vareen. You carry out the commandment of God.” The trembling giant offered the hilt of his blade to the elegant seer.

  Vareen stepped back. “I cannot.”

  “Then you, Valadrog, chief of us all, you kill her,” Vareilious yelled as he turned the hilt toward the ancient warrior.

  “God forgive me, I cannot,” Valadrog said through his tears.

  “Anyone? One of you must step forward and do the will of God. I cannot!”

  No one answered Vareilious’s cries for help. Tears poured down the mighty sentinel’s face as he looked to the crowd, pleading with each of them to have mercy on him and take up the blade in his stead.

  “Then, God will take vengeance upon us all for our disobedience,” Vareen whispered.

  “Aye, Brother.” Vittorio stepped forward. “I cannae take her life. But I’ll gladly take her punishment. Remove my head an’ my wings as well. For if ye claim my wee sister, I wulna
e be using them again. Strike now, Brother, an’ see if God will accept my sacrifice.”

  I could take no more. No one else I loved would suffer one moment longer for my cursed existence. I wished the day I had been born were blotted out from all history. I wished the accursed day could not be spoken of throughout all time. My change was swift and powerful. Vashti now stood before them.

  “Enough! My sin is mine alone. I have sinned against God and none of you shall pay for that. God demands my life, so I shall let Him take it.”

  The next second, I was standing before the gigantic doors of the ethereal temple in the middle of Vanahirdem. Placing my swirling misty hands upon both handles, I listened for the haunting melody to blow through the intricate lattice, ordaining my admittance.

  I heard nothing save the loving voice within my head. “Enter, Jenevier, my child.”

  I easily pushed open the massive doors as my mask fell away. Running to the center of the grand hall, I threw myself across the mercy seat and poured my sorrowful soul out to God.

  I knew I had loved, and loved completely. I knew love had been returned to me a hundredfold. I knew I had done good in this world. And, I also knew I had done irreconcilable harm. The tears I poured out upon that sacred seat were not tears for me. I was past that. I cried for my withered friend, Jezreel. I cried for my beloved Alastyn. I cried for my loving husband, Varick. I cried for my best and truest friend, Vareilious. But most of all, I cried for the poor people of Ashgard who would never know the joys God had laid by in store for them, save for my selfish hatred and rancid pride. I begged for forgiveness and pleaded with God to take my death as a sacrifice and trade my wretched life for Merodach’s. I prayed He would rip my soul from within me and place it in the crumpled form of the murdered Prince, allowing everyone I loved to benefit through the man I had once hated.

  Then… I begged God for swiftness in this deed.

  Chapter 3

  Anicee

  (ah-NEE-cee)

  I woke face down in a putrid stinking swamp. Mud under my fingernails, creepy crawly things covering my body, tangled within my once beautiful hair. I gasped for air, tearing at the hideous little vermin trying to make a meal of my flesh. I walked out of that rancid bayou and didn’t stop until I came to a little town called Lake Charles. I knew by the look of the people I was on layer eight. And it didn’t take long to figure out I was in Louisiana.

  I had been called to Louisiana many times as Vashti, but that was usually near Baton Rouge or New Orleans. This lovely little town of Lake Charles was big enough to hide in, small enough to still be beautiful, and seemed to boast more tourists than residents. It was the perfect place to get lost.

  I thought I was dead and this was my Otherworld. No one looked my way. No one ran screaming from the filthy stench that was turning my own stomach. Lake Charles is where I discovered how to fend for myself and take what I needed.

  I must have washed my hair eight or ten times before my curls no longer reeked of the swamp water still lingering in my nostrils.

  It only took me a couple hours to realize God hadn’t taken my life… He’d taken my life away. A fate I feel may be worse than peaceful death. When my belly screamed for food, I knew I lived, but wished I did not.

  God had indeed ripped out all but a faint trace of my soul. I hoped Merodach used the precious gift wisely. I walked through those quaint little back streets, a mere shell of a human. I was likened unto that inviting pink cookie jar sitting on Aunt Marlise’s cabinet. An enticing, alluring promise. But when sought within, was full of disappointment and empty, save for the crumbs.

  I wallowed in self-pity for a dreadfully long time as I roamed the eighth layer. Eventually I found myself standing at the entrance to that familiar apartment building in Detroit. Hands pressed against the front doors, tears streaming down my hollow cheeks. I prayed for the children I’d once held in my arms, imparting sweet, warming love upon.

  I wanted desperately to hold that quivering little girl once more. I would have sought her out, sought them all out. But I was neither blessed, nor haunted, with a single name from that tragic yet glorious night.

  I walked up the many flights of stairs and stood outside the door which contained the memories of the beginning of my lost past. A charming couple carrying a small babe and leading a chattering young girl left the apartment dressed in their finest clothing, smiling and happy.

  Gone were the horrors that once lived within those painted walls. Love now filled the humble home. Time had moved on.

  I have no idea how long I’ve walked, nor what day it happens to be, nor what year in which I live. But my haunting reflection never changes and all the shattered pieces of my heart can never be restored.

  I roam this layer doing neither good nor ill to its inhabitants. I simply walk and breathe and sleep.

  When I first woke in that Louisiana bayou, my left hand ached as if a nail had been driven through it. Later, as I bathed, I could only sit and stare at the deep indention that now replaced the spot where my beautiful woven tattoo had marked the place Varick’s manacle once fit. I was no longer his Anicee.

  I still cry daily for the husband I never got to marry and the perfect love I threw away. I know he mourned my death just as surely as I know he now loves again. I am haunted by dreams of his fair silver-haired children dancing gaily through the streets of that beautiful city, while the perfect smile of their gorgeous father watches over them.

  Oh God! Why didn’t You kill me? Why are my tormented bones not now rotting within those sacred mountains? Why has my consuming grief not snuffed out my pitiful life? Is there no end to my suffering, to my punishment?

  I proclaim to the Reader now, I have gone weeks without food or drink. Yet I perish not. All I’ve managed to accomplish is to add to the pain and misery of my worthless existence.

  Tomorrow, I will continue my journey south and be done with the bitter chill invading Baltimore.

  *****

  I haven’t laid pen to paper in a terribly long time, Reader.

  I am now on a small stretch of land off the coast of Georgia—still on layer eight—known as Tybee Island. The winter months have passed and the rising heat now pushes me back to the northern parts of this forsaken realm. I can imagine no worse hell than the one I now live.

  My mind remained dormant as I wasted away the dreary winter months. Not a single thought of my former life had even encroached upon my dreams… until last night. I dreamt of a woman with long silky hair the color of sunshine, screaming out from the cursed pain of childbirth. The mesmerizing emerald eyes of the fair babe matched those of her handsome raven-haired father.

  I plunged a blade deep into my decrepit heart. Not a single drop of blood spilled forth, not one. I managed only to ruin the lovely pink dress I’d procured just yesterday. And now, I walk. Newly clad all in black—displaying without, to this unseeing world, what truly resides within.

  I remember fondly the beautiful lehenga Vittorio had gifted me after my first mission. My smile came unbidden as I recalled the strange words he whispered in my ear as I unknowingly asked for and purchased that lovely red dress.

  He only wanted to see me smile.

  And… I walk.

  Chapter 4

  Jenevier

  (ZHEN-ah-veer)

  I’d almost forgotten you were there, Reader.

  I have traveled far and wide since I left Georgia. I spent much time in the beautiful Smoky Mountains, pretending they were Thralldom. I slept amongst the trees, bathed in the cold streams, and feasted upon the many different herbs covering those hills. Yet, not once did I glimpse a feisty little Pixie or stumble upon an enchanting young man with olive skin, strange markings, and an innocent heart. There is no magic in layer eight, no enchantment. I hate this place.

  I journey through town after town and city after city. Ever walking, ever restless. I now stand, once again, in the middle of the busy streets of downtown Detroit. My heart pulled me back to the only place upon this h
orrid layer where the ghosts of my past life yet remain.

  *****

  “Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you not hear me? Ma’am, you can’t stand here. Come on. You’re gonna get yourself killed. Let’s go.”

  I heard the concerned voice but turned not. I couldn’t bear to see another death, another crime, another painful tear. Only when I felt the increasing tug upon my arm did I stop writing and look into the worried eyes of a man trying desperately to save a forgotten woman who wished only for death.

  I stared at him for many heartbeats before I found my voice. “You can see me?”

  “Of course I can see you. Now, come with me before you get the both of us killed.”

  I followed his frantic voice to the crowded sidewalk lining the congested street. Blaring horns and angry shouts accompanied our journey.

  I couldn’t stop staring at this strangely forceful man. Well, I couldn’t stop staring at the back of his head as he pulled me along behind him.

  “How is it you can see me?”

  “How is it I can…” He was shocked at my questioning. “Because you were blocking all of downtown rush hour traffic. That’s how.”

  I looked around at the hundreds of unseeing eyes now focused solely on me.

  I can only describe the look on his stern face as… cross. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do,” I whispered. “Can you hear thoughts? Do you see what hides inside the heart? I didn’t realize ones with such talent resided within this realm.”

  “You need help, Lady. You’re coming with me.”

  The man held fast to my arm as he pushed past the gathering crowd, leading me to an older building. Precinct 6 was written in white letters on the glass door. He escorted me into a tiny room with but a single table and a couple hard metal chairs.