Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) (48 page)

I couldn’t look at it; instead, my focus stayed on Ethan. The regret that briefly eclipsed his face had faded into obscurity. Void of emotions, cobalt eyes retreated to slate gray as he looked back to me. I held the gaze of the man who did exactly what he said he would do. He protected me. He protected me as long as I wasn’t a threat to his pack, and when I was—he killed me.

Death—I thought I would fight it. Ward it away from me as I had done before. But as it inched over my body and took hold of me, I found it to be comforting, like a warm blanket that covered you as it coaxed you into darkness. Yet, I still felt sorrow for the life lost—my life. I couldn’t stop the tear that managed to escape. Ethan’s thumb swept across my face wiping it away. It was then that he dropped his gaze from mine to the knife in my chest.

The knife held strong magic; I could feel it overtaking me, preventing the osinine from working to heal.

Protect me,
demanded the Gem of Levage. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to survive. Although my mind and spirit had freely given over to death, my body refused to go without a fight. My heart struggled for each beat it took. The odd thing about dying is once you start to do it, the heart doesn’t beat at an erratic inaudible thump as you would imagine. Instead, it gargles and battles, twisting in your chest as it struggle to hold on to what it knows—life . Soon it gives in to the unwinnable fight. It’s the breathing that continues for a few seconds after the heart has lost its battle.

The gem released me from my obligation; I conceded into the darkness. Death.

I never thought about what it actually felt like as you slipped into it. There weren’t any lights to walk toward—just darkness. Unaware of heaven and hell, or the place that people like me would go, I took ownership of the darkness. I welcomed Death—it was familiar to me.

CHAPTER 16

Shrouded in blackness, I heard a soft voice call my name. It wasn’t Josh’s, although I expected to hear him; it was a feminine voice. Remaining quiet, I embraced the state of limbo. Between life and death was an odd place to be. But my life was a tragedy. I was reluctant to accept death, so I remained in this state, unable to concede to either. “Skylar, you can’t stay here,” stated a soothing voice in my head. “I guess introductions aren’t needed,” I responded, my current state making my comment harsher then intended. There was an abrupt silence. “Maya, I presume,” I continued. She remained quiet. It was an uneasy silence.

“I hear Josh calling for you to remove me from this body,” she stated in a gentle tone.

“And you want me to stop him?”

“No. My journey in this world has been long, although not often happy. Eleven hosts I’ve endured, and only one brought me anywhere close to what I considered a life. For that I am grateful.” Her voice was a soft fluid sound, offering me comfort—In this current state; I found little.

“You are curious about your mother, now more than ever. My memories of her life are yours to explore. Will you allow me to do this for you?”

Did she expect me to say no? She was giving me something, that even in my dreams, I could never expect to experience.

Maya came to my mother when she was eighteen, shortly after she became aware of her magical gifts. “Drawn to her magic, I wanted her as my host. She wasn’t very strong, but she possessed gifts I wanted to experience,” she admitted. “She declined my request several times. I tried to persuade her with the promise of enhanced magic as a result of hosting me. She wanted nothing to do with me. To her, I was nothing more than a spirit of evil, attempting to make a fool’s bargain with her. I told her my story. Then I assured her I don’t bring evil to those who host me, it already dwells in them. How could I blame her?

“Most request my presence in their life. She was the first that I asked. Months had passed and she never called to me. I had given up all hope. Then she finally did. Sorrowed by the story of my lost life, she considered me ‘deserving of a chance at life’. The idea of enhanced power had no appeal to her, but the ability to help me did. I knew then she would give me something others had failed to give—a life worth living.”

“You picked hosts based on their ability to provide you with power?” I asked cautiously. Now I was skeptical of how pure she actually was. Why such a thirst for magic and power? If a fulfilling life was what she sought, why not seek the life of a human who could offer her a worthier and less complicated existence?

She took time to answer the question, but I wasn’t sure if it were to offer me truth or a convincing lie. “I am drawn to power; it is the nature of my being, but it is not a necessity. The thirst to live in a body with immense power is a flaw I remedied long ago. I learned early on that those with the most power are often too corrupt, providing the most unfulfilling and disappointing life imaginable. Unfortunately for me, most of my hosts have been chosen out of pure desperation. I hate the form in which I was cursed to live. An existence of not being able to touch, feel and sense things as a whole being is far worse than any nightmare one could imagine. There isn’t a method to how I chose the lives I shared. Regretfully, far too often, my choices were flawed. It’s only upon their death, I am granted leave. I was forced to experience the lives of monsters who only existed to torture, hurt and cause sorrow to others. It was a vile and disturbing existence for me,” she admitted. I thought I felt her shudder at the memories. What had she been through? I wanted to ask her, but I doubted she would answer.

“What gifts did my mother possess that drew you to her?”

“The ability to compel; it was an amazing gift that she chose not to use. The idea of controlling people’s desires made her feel like she was robbing them of their autonomy―their life. Never before had I experienced such a devout consciousness from a person.”

“Have all your hosts been human?” I asked, unable to believe that the horror and iniquity that she described could be carried out by only humans.

“I can be hosted by those who are wholly human and human-like,” she admitted.

“Human-like?”

“Were-animals.” She wasn’t winning points here, calling me human-like.

“Will you allow me to continue guiding you through your mother’s life?” she asked patiently.

“Yes.” I was aware when someone was trying to redirect me. It was quite the chore determining which was more important: exploring my mother’s life or gaining more insight into the life of the being who has lived in me all my life.

Maya took me through the journey of my mother’s life. Like a movie, I watched threads of her existence. I had the opportunity to see my grandparents and discovered that I had three aunties and one uncle: Aunt Caitlyn, Beth, Madalena and Uncle William. Glimpses of notable moments in my mother’s life allowed me to watch her interact with my aunts and uncle. The relationship between them seemed strained, but I didn’t know why. Maya edited, but I guess she had to. I didn’t have twelve years to experience it all. But each moment was so surreal. Even when I was shown a brief flash of my grandfather’s funeral, I felt immense sorrow for my mother.

She guided me through my parents meeting, dating and eventually falling in love. Glimpses of my mother on her wedding day allowed me to see a slightly older version of myself. Her brown eyes were soft, pleasant and human, without that glint of the beast that seemed to dull mine. Her hair was a deep cinnamon with the same barely tamable waves. They formed a beautiful mane around a deep olive-toned face. My father’s muted golden brown hair was almost a direct contrast to my mother’s. His skin was terribly fair and could never tan to the color of my olive tone. The only feature that I seemed to inherit was his emerald eyes that held the same animal glimmer as mine. On that day, my mother became Senna Bask, and a year later, they created a child who would be known as Skylar.

Maya continued presenting me with pieces of my mother’s life and stopped abruptly as Emmanuel approached my mother and father.

“Your mother remained my host for twelve years. A beautiful life ended so tragically. I grieve less often these days but the sorrow still remains. Skylar, you’ve been asleep for a while. It is never good to remain in this state long,” she reminded me cautiously.

“Is it because of you that I can hold magic?” I asked hastily. I wasn’t ready to leave her. There were so many questions I needed answered.

“Yes.”

“I thought you didn’t have any abilities and that you can only live through your hosts,” I inquired.

“Without a body I have no power; within a body I have no control. I am indeed at the mercy of my host, but I possess magic that mirrors their own. Those without gifts will remain that way; however, those with gifts are indeed enhanced because of my presence,” she stated.

“Nathan wanted me dead. It wasn’t me that he wanted dead; it was you. Why is your existence such a threat?”

“At one time, I was destined to have great power. I possessed power over the dead, were-animals, the undead and all magical beings. I was destined to be an unstoppable force and a danger to most. That is the reason I was murdered. Now that power can no longer exist,” she admitted.

“Murdered? I thought you died.”

She laughed softly, finding a level of absurdity to my statement. “Yes, the story of my death has been told so many times that the truth becomes tales and lies become legend. The Tréase knew of my power, and that is the reason she left me in this state. I was a threat to her as well.”

“Who murdered you?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Now all that power is gone?”

“No, not gone, just unable to be used. There isn’t a body that I can inhabit that can contain such power. I can only mirror the power of the body I host.”

I was silent for a long time, organizing the many questions bombarding my mind.

“Skylar, you need to wake up now. In this state, you are very vulnerable to all who have come in contact with you. Ethos will come to you if you stay in this state, and you will not be able to resist,” she warned.

When I didn’t make an effort to awake, she called my name. “Skylar, the warlock is calling for my exit. You have to leave now. He asks now; but soon he will use force. He believes that I am going to take my gift from you and end your life. His emotions fill the room. Do you feel it?”

Too focused on her, I hadn’t sensed or felt a thing; but now I heard Josh calling. I couldn’t feel his emotions—or perhaps I just chose to ignore them. If I knew how panicked he was, I would feel guilty about wanting to stay. Oddly enough, I just felt cold and absent, the way I felt when I gave into death. There didn’t seem like enough time to ask all the questions I needed answered. I needed more time with her.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes. But I won’t. During this cursed existence, I have acquired few obligations to others but your life is my obligation and gift on behalf of your mother. A gift I will never ask to be returned.”

“What happens now?”

“I answer Josh’s call to leave, and you wake up and live the remaining years of your life.”

“Then what will happen to you?”

She answered me with silence. “Do you die?” I asked impatiently.

“My dying occurred long ago, twenty-three years to be exact. Your birth was my death.”

“Can you find another host?” I asked

“That is no longer an option.”

“You don’t have to leave. You can stay. This life you can continue to have. We can share it as we have done before,” I stated hastily. Now I could sense Josh’s familiar magic. His voice echoed in the distance. He was performing a spell; I could feel it tugging at me.

I had known of her existence for only a matter of weeks and yet I couldn’t end it. My mother never would have hosted her nor given her to me if she were bad. She was the only connection I had to my mother. Maybe I was the worst type of fool, but I couldn’t end her existence.

“Maya, this life you may have,” I repeated.

An uncertain silence filled the space. I thought she would have accepted quickly with appreciation, but she remained hesitant.

“No. I wish things to end here,” she stated kindly, leaving me in a state of confusion. She was choosing a life of nonexistence over a life with me. The level of offense was immeasurable.

“You choose death over my life?” I asked unable to hide my disbelief and disappointment.

“No, I choose the memories of a good life over what you will offer me. As my host, I experience your life, your thoughts and heart desires as though they were mine. You consider yourself a monster, and at some point, your actions will reflect your beliefs. I’ve lived in the bodies of monsters, killers and people who were human in name only. Those experiences brought me no joy. It was a torturous existence that I could not escape, my very own personal hell. Given the choice, I would choose nonexistence over the life I shared with them,” she admitted honestly.

“I’ve experienced your torment and your perception of the thing that you believe you are. Knowing that I existed in you brought you further grief. Your life will not bring me joy because it doesn’t seem to bring you any. You live this existence begrudgingly, the foundation of a monstrous life. I don’t want that.”