Apocalypse the Blossoming (The Power of Twelve Book 2) Read online

  Suddenly it hits me. It’s the same feeling I felt around the Innocents. There is a Chosen One here, somewhere. I try to trace it down but it’s faint, a hint of the power that is to come. I guess that makes sense, if they were full-blown then the Mages would already be here, ready to collect them.

  “The Prophecy is clear,” the woman is saying to Nathaniel.

  “You have to be careful with prophecy,” Efram says. “It’s always open to interpretation.

  “It is clear,” she repeats, firmly.

  Efram nods and doesn’t say more.

  “What prophecy?” I ask.

  “When the Beast comes to feed, we will inherit the Bunker above,” she says, a low murmur of assent or blessing comes from those circled around us.

  Cold chills run down my arms. When the Beast feeds, and they think that’s a good thing? I suppress a shudder. Anger pulses from them, hitting me in a flurry, pounding against my senses. It’s difficult to not be left reeling by the vehemence of their emotions.

  “Sounds… chilling,” I say.

  She turns her stormy eyes on me, frowning deeper, somehow. I smile in response, hoping to break through or annoy her or something.

  “You do not understand,” she says, shaking her head.

  “No, sorry,” I shrug.

  I don’t understand, and I am sorry. They don’t seem to have it that bad. We’ve seen much worse by far, hello Wormwood Bunker as a prime example. This place is virtually heaven compared to that place. I wish I understood why they’re so upset though.

  She resumes her conversation. Nathaniel seems to be the only person she’s actually willing to talk to. The only thing that comes clear to me in their discussion is their blind faith and following of this “prophecy.”

  “We should be more hospitable,” she says.

  She nods towards one of the young men, and he steps forward out of the circle.

  “I will prepare a meal,” he says. “If you would care to join us.”

  I exchange a glance with Rafe and Efram and Silas, almost as one we shrug. It’s not like we have anything better to do.

  “That would be very nice,” I say.

  He smiles and leads us towards a door at the back of the room. The other side of it is set up like a regular dining hall. Long tables with benches line the room. Several of the Coven members tag along with us. They all set to work, and it isn’t long before food is placed before us.

  The atmosphere has become friendlier. The tension drops away in the face of food and general comradeship. I enjoy visiting with them. Listening to their stories, whether or not focused on their prophecy and their underlying anger, it becomes clear that their life here isn’t really bad.

  They may not have a lot of choices, but who does? The Apocalypse has happened. Survival, for most, is in question every day. This place is far from the worst. It’s better than Bunker E247 was, and one hell of a sight better than Wormwood Bunker. One way or another, they’re surviving and they have regular routines.

  I scan around the room hoping to spot the Innocents. There are a couple that feel slightly different but it’s not the same. What does become clear to me is they have power, a lot of it when they’re combined. This whole thing is a powder keg that could possibly go off at any time. I wonder if Tynan knows about it. I can’t imagine he doesn’t.

  Efram seems at home here. They crowd around him, pestering him with questions, and sharing stories. He fairly glows being the center of attention. I’m happy for him. He seems to be in his element.

  One of the men sits down across from me. He has a scar that runs along his right cheek from his ear to the corner of his mouth. It gives him a permanent grimace. He stares at me for a long moment in silence.

  “You’re just the sort of woman they look to corrupt when they have their parties,” he says.

  “Excuse me?” I ask.

  He chews a mouthful of food slowly, staring at me. At last he swallows it, shakes his head, takes a drink and then finally answers.

  “They will try to corrupt you,” he says. “It’s what they do.”

  “And you are?”

  “Merric,” he replies.

  “Okay, Merric, what do you mean?”

  “The Darlings,” he says, somewhat cryptically.

  “What about them?”

  “Don’t you get it?” he sighs, setting his fork down. “It’s all a sham. A show put on for their entertainment. You would be a perfect fit for it.”

  “I’m no one’s entertainment,” I say, anger flaring.

  “Good, don’t let them use you,” he says, picking up his tray and walking away.

  The conversation with Merric leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’m ready to go home. I catch Rafe’s eye and make a motion with my head. He picks up on it, like I hoped he would, and taps Nathaniel on the shoulder. In just a few moments we’re taking our leave.

  “That was fun,” I quip on our way back to the boys’ rooms.

  “I do love a side of fanatic with my dinner,” Rafe says.

  “They’re not that bad,” Efram says, coming to their defense.

  “Uh-huh,” I say, half-teasing. “Says the life of the party.”

  “I wasn’t—” he objects.

  “Right. Oh Efram, is your dinner warm enough? Here, let me heat that some more for you,” I tease.

  Efram blushes brightly, and I can’t hold back my laughter.

  “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he asks.

  “No,” I assure him. “It was much, much worse.”

  “I’m not going to live this down anytime soon am I?” he asks.

  “Most assuredly not,” Rafe says.

  “They did seem overly fond of you,” Silas says.

  “Great,” Efram shakes his head.

  We enter the guys’ room and then we’re all standing around looking at each other. I’m feeling awkward. I have to go, and I know it, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here, with them, where I belong. I want… well let’s not go there. Brain, stop the images now, thank you very much.

  “Aviella, I need to tell you something,” Nathaniel says.

  He feels heavy. Dread hits me out of nowhere. I’m not going to like where this is going.

  “Yeah?” I ask, giving him a sidelong look.

  “I have to leave, for a while,” he says.

  A bomb couldn’t affect me more. Staring at him in stunned silence, my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide, I try to process his words.

  “You… can’t,” I say at last.

  Good job, Aviella, great argument, well-articulated. I’m sure that will change his mind.

  “I have to,” he says.

  “Yeah, on that note—” Rafe says.

  “No, not you too,” I say, voice cracking.

  “I have duties,” Nathaniel says. “Another trumpet has sounded. I have matters that I must attend.”

  “But,” I say.

  There’s nothing to say. Rafe and Nathaniel look sad but determined. I don’t own them, I can’t control them, and it’s clear they’ve made up their minds. The emptiness feels like a black hole. My stomach drops, and I’m left reeling.

  “We’re going to make sure you’re safe first,” Rafe says. “The world out there is changing, again. I have contacts that will swarm to the chaos. They’ll have information we can use.”

  “Both of you?” I ask, feeling desperate.

  They glance at each other, and Nathaniel shrugs.

  “I didn’t plan this,” Nathaniel says, as if that makes any of it better.

  “Right,” I say. “Got it.”

  Damn. Every time I feel like I’ve got things coming to a place where I can be happy, someone leaves, or I lose them. Is this the real story of my life? How many people can Aviella lose before she goes over the edge? Numb and fighting tears, we exchange hugs, and I leave for my room.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The room is too big, too empty.

  I know it’s not any different than it was before I
went to the lower levels, logically, but it feels different now. Rafe and Nathaniel are gone, or as good as. They’re leaving tonight.

  What if something happens to them? I’ll never know. They’ll just be gone, forever. Lost, unknown. Magical energy races up and down my limbs, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. Pacing to the wall and back again, I struggle against the urge to punch the wall. I’d probably hurt myself, and what good would that do anyone?

  I hate losing people.

  Hate it. Hate, hate, hate it.

  Ever since Dad. Tears well up, and anger rises right behind them. Damn it, I’m not going to cry! My throat locks up, and my chest tightens as I struggle with the overwhelm of emotions. Pacing faster, maybe I can outrun it. Of course I can’t.

  Someone knocks on the door.

  “Great,” I choke.

  Glancing at myself in the mirror, I can’t stand what I see. My eyes are puffy, tears sitting in the corners, and I look washed out. Perfect, who could possibly be at my door right now?

  Taking a deep breath, I make them wait. They knock again but at least I’m able to get the tears under control. Nothing I can do about my puffy eyes, but screw it. I don’t want company anyway. I storm to the door and throw it open.

  “What!” I bark.

  The staffer who showed me to my room jumps at my harsh tone, making me feel bad. It’s not her fault. I should be nice.

  She’s holding a small, flat, white box that she almost drops. She fumbles to keep ahold of it while also trying to back away from me.

  “Sorry,” I say, reaching out and catching the box before it hits the floor.

  It’s surprisingly light. She looks from the box in my hands up to me then back again, biting her lower lip. She motions at the box with a half-gesture, then shakes her head.

  “Uh,” she mumbles. “Lord Tynan invites you to uh—the—uh…”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “What’s your name? I don’t think I caught it last time.”

  She looks at my eyes and blushes cherry pink.

  “Uh—Sam,” she says, nodding for emphasis. “Samantha, but everyone, I mean you can, uh—call me Sam.”

  “Okay, Sam. Thank you, I’m Aviella,” I extend a hand.

  She stares at it wide-eyed, then tentatively takes it. She’s regaining her composure, standing straighter, and trying on a smile.

  “I’m sorry,” she offers.

  “Not your fault,” I say. “Now, why were you here?”

  She looks at the box in my hand, frowning. She reaches, so I hand it back to her. She breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Lord Tynan requests your company for this evening’s contest,” she says.

  Her smile grows broader as she opens the box, holding it between us. Inside is a stunning emerald necklace. It catches the light, sparkling brightly. It takes my breath away.

  “He likes you,” she adds, obviously feeling it’s a good thing to have his attention.

  Except I’d rather not. He’s a Dragon, and the way he makes me feel… I’m not sure I can control myself around him, or what the implications would be if I don’t. Also, this necklace—is he trying to buy me? Well, I’m not for sale, I don’t care who or what you are.

  I stare at the necklace for too long. Her hand trembles, pulling me out of my thoughts. Looking up, I nod, unable to think of anything nice to say in response. She’s not going to understand. In her mind, having Tynans’s attention would be the greatest thing that could possibly happen to her.

  “Thank you,” I say, unable to find anything more appropriate.

  “He asked I help you select what to wear,” she adds. “Since you’re new here and all. He wants you to feel at home.”

  Oh, I’m sure he does, all right. Closing my eyes, I count to five, then open them.

  “Sure,” I say, unwilling to take my emotions out on her. She’s innocent in all of this.

  Stepping to the side, I let her in. She makes her way straight to the armoire and pulls out clothes. Great, here I go, what am I getting into now?

  I pull the dress down for the umpteen-millionth time. It rides up something fierce. Still, I look good. Checking myself out in the mirror, I turn from one side to the other and admire myself. The dress is a slinky red number, strapless again, but it really makes me look better than I ever thought I could. I thought the last one was stunning, but this takes it to an entirely new level.

  Sam wanted me to wear heels, but no way I’m down with that. Instead we settled on some sensible flats that still look nice. I know, heels are the rage, but I can count the number of ‘affairs’ like this I’ve gone to on one hand, and almost all of them have ended with me running. No way I’m wearing heels. It is the Apocalypse after all.

  Satisfied, I turn one last time, and there’s a knock on the door.

  “Wow,” Silas says, his eyes drinking me in.

  My heart rate speeds up in an instant as my body responds to him. His energy surrounds me, caressing, holding me, and I want, very much, for him to take me in his arms. Swallowing hard, I force a smile.

  “You like?” I ask, butterflies dancing in my stomach.

  “Like?” he says, shaking his head. “That is an entirely insufficient word…”

  “Yeah?” I ask, feeling like a little girl needing his approval. God, what is wrong with me?

  He nods, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He swallows, not taking his eyes off me. The final verdict doesn’t come from his words, but when I notice the front of his slacks swelling. Smiling, I nod, satisfied that I look as good as I thought.

  “We should go,” he says, his voice low, soft, and sensual.

  “Right,” I say.

  He holds out a hand and I take it, linking arms with him. We walk to the event in silence. Lots of people are out in the halls, all of them dressed to perfection. I draw a lot of attention, both male and female. It’s impossible to ignore the whisper campaign I leave in my wake. A lot of folks are not happy with me.

  Whatever, I don’t care for them either. I don’t think anyone should live in luxury if it comes on the backs of others. It’s not right. Everyone should have to work and contribute, not just those unfortunate enough to be born to the wrong family.

  They’re nothing more than a bunch of half-starved, over-competitive bunch of dilettantes who bring nothing of value besides their looks. None of them would know a decent day’s work if it bit them on the butt.

  Music is thumping, growing louder as the crowd increases. Soon it’s a veritable throng around us, and we slow as the crowd becomes a line.

  “What is this?” I ask Silas, rising on my toes to speak into his ear so he can hear me.

  “A fashion show, mostly,” he says.

  “Oh,” I say. “Do you think—"

  I’m cut off as two burly men push through the crowd and stop in front of us. Magic rises and my skin itches as my power almost bursts out on its own. That hasn’t happened like that in a long time. The boys have really worked with me to help me stay in control, but when I’m startled it’s harder.

  I cut it off before anything happens, but it takes an effort. Silas’s hand tightens on my arm, and I know he felt it too.

  “What is this?” Silas asks.

  “Lord Tynan sent us to escort her to the VIP room,” one of them says.

  “Oh,” I say, blushing.

  “Very well,” Silas says, stepping out of line and taking me with him.

  “Just her,” the other one says.

  “What? No!” I exclaim.

  “I’m sure Tynan won’t object to my joining him,” Silas says.

  His words resonate when he says them. I don’t hear them with my ears alone, but through my energy, they carry magic. The two men exchange a look, then shrug.

  “Of course,” one of them says.

  They lead us out of the crowd, which of course creates even more whispers. Feeling impulsive, I look over my shoulder at the crowd, all of whom are watching, openly or not, and give a finger wave. A couple of
the women gasp, which is perfect.

  “Having fun?” Silas asks.

  “Yes. Yes, I am,” I say, feeling self-satisfied.

  “Aviella,” Tynan greets me, rising to his feet as we enter the room.

  “Tynan,” I say, smiling when he notices Silas and seeing something in his face shift.

  “Silas,” Tynan says to him.

  “A pleasure to see you again,” Silas says, ignoring the tension in Tynan.

  “Well, the show is about to begin. Let’s take our seats,” Tynan says.

  He leads the way across the small room. We’re on a balcony that overlooks the crowd below. There’s a runway that extends down the middle of the room. The seats around the space are filling up fast.

  The music is pounding louder, increasing in volume until it crescendos in one final loud blast and stops suddenly. The crowd bursts into applause. A man with bright blue hair spiked up off the top of his head walks through the curtain and down the runway. He turns slowly, looking the crowd over, then raises the microphone to his mouth.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, his voice echoing. “Are you ready?”

  The crowd cheers and applauds. I glance at Tynan. He appears bored, resting his chin in his hand and tapping a finger on his cheek. He’s barely paying attention. He notices me watching and smiles.

  “You look quite lovely tonight,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I say. “An admirer sent me this necklace.”

  His smile broadens. Suddenly I feel like putty in his hands, like a melting chocolate bar ready to be consumed. Involuntarily I lean in closer to him. Desire thrums through me. His eyes are dark pools, his lips full and inviting. There’s a fire burning in me, rising higher, if it keeps going it’s going to consume me. I’m not sure if I care.

  The crowd cheers louder, breaking the moment. I turn away from him, and I’m panting. It’s too hot, I’m about to break out in a sweat. Focusing on the event below, I struggle to ignore him and the effect he is having.