The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [6]
When he approached me that evening, the dazed look was gone, replaced by determination.
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“I need to speak to you,” Alexander told me. “I do not know how to explain to you so that you do not think …” He paused, and I waited for him to continue.
“There are creatures in this world besides humans,” Alexander went on, his voice gaining strength and determination. “But they are not what the witch hunters say they are. The witches …” Again Alexander paused, and I waited for him to decide how to say what he needed to say. “I do not know if Satan exists — I have never seen him, personally — but I do know that there are creatures out there that would damn you if they could, simply for spite.”
This was nothing I had not heard before at church. But my brother said it differently than the preacher ever did. I would say it sounded as if Alexander had more faith, but that wasn’t quite it. It sounded as if, in his mind, he had proof.
“Alexander, what has happened?” I whispered. His words seemed a warning, but it was not a warning I understood.
Alexander sighed deeply. “I made a mistake, Rachel.” Then he would say no more about it.
I went to bed that night feeling uneasy. I was afraid to know what Alexander’s words meant, but even more afraid because I did not know.
Around eleven I heard footsteps moving past my door, as if someone was trying without success to move quietly. I rose silently, so as not to wake Lynette, with whom I shared the room, and tiptoed to the door.
I left my room and entered the kitchen, where I caught a glimpse of Alexander leaving by the back door. I began to follow him, wondering why he was sneaking out of the house at such a late hour.
I well knew the abstract look that I had glimpsed on his face: he had seen something in his mind. Whatever vision had driven him from sleep had scared him, and it pained me that he had walked straight past my door, not even hesitating, not willing to confide in me.
Alexander had slipped through the back door, but I hesitated beside the doorway, hearing voices behind the house. Alexander was speaking with Aubrey and a woman I did not know. Her accent was different from Aubrey’s, but again it was not familiar to me. I did not know then that she had been raised to speak a language long dead.
The woman Alexander was speaking with had black hair that fell to her shoulders and formed a dark halo around her deathly pale skin and black eyes. She wore a black silk dress and silver jewelry that nearly covered her left hand. On her right wrist she wore a silver snake bracelet with rubies for eyes.
The black dress, the jewelry, and most of all the red-eyed serpent, brought one word to my mind: witch.
“Why should I?” she was asking Alexander.
“Just stay away,” he ordered. He sounded so calm, but I knew him well. I caught the shiver in his voice — the sound of anger and fear.
“Temptation,” the woman said, pushing Alexander. He fell against the wall, and I could hear the impact as his back hit the wood. But she had hardly touched him! “Child, you would regret ordering me away from your sister,” the woman added coldly.
“Do not hurt her, Ather.” It was the first time I had heard her name, and shivers ran down my spine upon hearing my brother speak it. My golden-colored brother did not belong in the dark world she had risen from.
“I mean it,” Alexander said, stepping forward from the wall. “I am the one who attacked you — leave Rachel be. If you need to fight someone to heal your pride, fight me, not my sister.”
When I heard this, my heart jumped. Alexander was my brother. I had been born with him and raised with him. I knew him, and I knew he would not harm another human being.
“You and that witch should not have interrupted my hunt,” said Ather.
“You should be grateful ‘that witch’ helped me stop you. If you had killed Lynette —”
“Which sister matters more to you, Alexander — your twin, or Lynette? You drew blood; you should