Cursed: Scarlet
Chapter 5: Scarlet’s Choice

The stars are the only things that remain predictable in my life. They may burn out and be replaced, but there are always a few million around for me to stare at while I attempt to order my thoughts. I remember all the wonderful things they have played witness to, and all the things that have been hidden from them.

During the wars of the Immortals and the wars of the humans, all the bloodshed could be hidden under their nightly vigil. I could not precisely recall which constellations to follow to reach my old homes, but if I could replace just one, it would be easy from there.

Due to the pollution of the humans, it was almost impossible to see the night sky, unless you were in a magically protected place. Or Siberia. Staring up at them, I can’t help but wonder how to fix the one problem I’ve had since I was old enough to notice them. My curse had made living unbearable, but knowing nothing could end it heightened the anguish.

Hades had known precisely what would bring me the most pain, and he gained a sense if glee in the aspect of his constant involvement. I rest my head on my knees and sigh.

“Anymore sighing and I’ll have to hug you,” Cassy jokes. I smile weakly and wait for her to sit next to me. “So why are you all the way up here on your last night in the realm?”

“I’m trying to figure out what is left of my life,” I say, angling my head so I can look at her. She is practically glowing; I forgot what fairies could be like when they were in love. “Niall is really lucky to have you.”

“Remember when we would sit up here to escape from Morgana, and we’d talk for hours planning the rest of our lives?” she says, looking up. I sigh again and she hugs me.

“Don’t give up on Ian, Scar, he’s meant for you, I’ve seen it.” Damn these fairies and their stupid visions. “I saw you smiling and laughing, Scar, in his arms. We both know that there is no other interpretation.”

I sigh before I speak, “I don’t want him to have to give up anything for me, or to feel like he has to experience things with me in tow. I want him to experience life, Cass; he’s too young for what we know.” She turns and looks at me with her eyebrow raised. “Are you sure it’s just about his future, or are your insecurities coming through again?”

“What if Hades does to him what he did to all the others?”

“He would kill his own son, just to spite you? I’d love to see what Hecate does to him if he tries,” we both laugh. The First Mage may seem gentle and cold, but I strongly advise you not to cross her, the things she can come up with are more than surprising. She makes the ancient gods seem like insignificant children in comparisons of power. She buried an entire town in lava once, just because some idiot hunted and brutally murdered one of her people.

“You know, I actually feel better now, Cass. Thank you,” we rise simultaneously and she hugs me again. “But I’m still not helping with wedding planning.”

She sighs in mock frustration, “Then you can’t complain at what I choose for your dress.”

“We both know you wouldn’t make me look ridiculous, I’d ruin your entire wedding”, I grin at her.

As I walk back to my room, I think back to Alexis, Henry, Gaius, Declan, Alistair, and Gabriel... Many of them had died, as they formed a loophole to my curse. In being capable of loving, I had broken away from Hades’ mandate. And he was not one to give up so easily. Each and every time he learned of my amorous intentions, he hunted my ‘boyfriends’ down and murdered them cruelly, usually in my presence. His messages were always clear, in denying Tristan; you deny this man his life.

The pain and regret lead to centuries between those men who had brought me a measure of happiness. When they died, I was inconsolable. I would show symptoms of what are now known as ‘suicidal tendencies’. For someone who couldn’t die, I had a lot of creativity when it came down to the actual method.

I fought recklessly in wars, ran headlong into dangerous quests, even becoming an assassin for a few centuries. Whenever I was caught by the inconsequential kings and queens, emperors and tribal chiefs, they would be amazed at what did not work as it should have on me. Most of my scars had healed, but some, like the scratches on my back from a fuming dragon (pun intended), had poison that prevented their complete healing. Then there was the bite on my left arm from one of Hades’ Furies. And the arrow hole from a centaur. My body was covered in the magical remnants of my escapades. But there was nothing a good tattoo artist couldn’t hide these days.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by a cough. Marcus appears from the shadows, hands in his pockets, looking more like a schoolboy than my father. I turn and face him, crossing my arms. “What do you want, Marcus?” the anger and frustration at him well up, as usual.

“I wanted to know how you felt about…recent developments.” He tries to hold my gaze, but I stoically direct it out of one of the windows glazed with rain.

“Oh, you mean both Hades and Hecate attempting to get to know their own child and wanting to have him removed from my protection? Well, dad,” the sarcasm just dripping from my mouth, “I feel just super, thanks for asking.”

I turn my back on him and continue to my room. “Scarlet Helena Mithra, don’t you dare walk away from me.” There goes that famous temper of his; daddy’s being a dragon today instead of an iceberg. I roll my eyes but keep walking. Why not just throw in my many titles while he’s at it. I make sure to hide my thoughts from him, telepathy is a nuisance in parents, let me tell you.

He appears in front of me and my boots scrape loudly against the marble floor. “I am trying to talk to you, Daughter…” I snort.

“Daughter, is it now? Am I suddenly your child again? Did the fact that I was your daughter stop you when you tried to marry me off to what would have been my rapist and murderer, father?” I hiss the word at him. “Did being your daughter stop Hades from ruining the prolonged existence that was given to me as a birth right? No, and it sure as the stars didn’t matter to you when I was a child, left to be raised by Morgana while you occasionally remembered my existence. I don’t care that you had a realm to oversee and volatile subjects, mother did too, yet SHE WAS THERE.” I turn away from him, shaking with both irritation and shock. I had never confronted him like that before, not once in thousands of years. But it felt so right, so refreshing.

Marcus had not moved an inch. He just stared after me until I rounded the corner, getting one last glance at him before I was out of his presence. I finally reach my rooms, shoving past the guards. Why the hell are there guards? I got over the whole killing myself bit a long time ago. The drinking helped, the being rich helped the drinking, and I had to do a lot of drinking to lose my problems in an alcoholic stupor.

I somehow make it to the stupid, frilly bed and crash face first on it, my legs hanging off of one side. The tears start then; I seem to be doing a lot of crying these days, thankfully this time it’s not in front of Ian. Ian…

***

When dawn breaks, I replace myself curled up at the foot of the bed, my neck aching from being bent in such a weird way. I can hear Cassy in the ‘sitting room’, packing for me. So, I go and take a nice, long, bath. When I get out, Cassy is lounging on my bed, speculating her shoes.

“Good morning, Scarlet,” she sings at me, a grin threatening to split her face in half. “I heard about what you said to Marcus, well everybody heard it. You can be extremely loud when it suits you,” I throw my hairbrush at her and walk into my extensive ‘closet’, more like personal boutique. I go to the chest I hide my normal clothes in and yank out my favourite boots, ripped grey jeans and plain tank top with a rather low neckline.

Cassy is still yammering in my room, “... and my mother-in-law wants to meet you, but she will have to wait until the wedding, won’t she?”

I pull the clothes on and take my brush back from Cassy. “Bet your sparkling ass she will.” I say, grimacing as I pull on a particularly huge knot. I wish I could cut my hair, but it grows so fast that if I shaved it off at dawn it would hang by my knees by sundown.

I grab my leather jacket as I head into the ’sitting room’. The fey have already put most of my things in bags, which I will send to Blacktower when Ian has packed. I ‘um’ and ‘ah’ as Cassy continues to natter on about Niall. Maybe high school wouldn’t be that bad, I could escape Cassy’s motor mouth for a few more months. But I would still have to deal with my ‘classmates’. Decisions, decisions.

“Will someone please get me a plate of bacon?” I yell to the public at large, smiling when a fairy appears with a piled up plate a minute later. “Thank you.” The poor thing speeds away as soon as it is placed in my hands. Cassy pulls a very unattractive face. “Better not let Niall see you like that, he might call off the wedding,” I joke, sitting down on my lovely reclining couch. I may actually miss the thing when I have to leave.

The door to my chambers opens, revealing a bleary-eyed Ian, his gorgeous brown hair sticking up all over his head. I sigh appreciatively at his abs while he stretches and yawns. “Fetch the mage some coffee and bacon,” I say to a passing fey, she nods and scurries off. ”If I weren’t engaged, Scarlet, I’d steal him from you,” Cassy whispers to me. And we burst into uncontrollable giggles as he collapses on a couch. The fey I sent places a tray in front of him, with coffee and milk and sugar right under his nose.

Why is he so damn adorable? I think to myself. We haven’t spoken in days; he’d backed off like I’d asked him. But now, I wanted him so badly my heart was trying to escape from my chest. “Why are we up so early?” he asks between mouthfuls of bacon and coffee.

“We’re going sight-seeing,” I say, helping myself to some of the coffee. Cassy has somehow made tea and oatcakes appear out of nowhere.

“Sight-seeing? Where?”

“Well, Cass needs to go to Dublin and it’s not far from the school, so I thought we would make a day of it before classes start.” I shrug and sip my coffee, sneaking a peek of his arms. Those tattoos fascinate me.

“Oh,” he mumbles through a mouthful of bacon. “Hurry up, Prince Charming; we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

“But my bacon-“, I snap my fingers and his bacon is now in a typical child’s lunch box.

“Can we go now?” I roll my eyes in mock frustration. Cassy is in a fit of laughter, so I push her off the couch.

“What was that for?” she shrieks in mock indignation.

“I’m not going to wait much longer, so if you aren’t outside in fifteen minutes, I will lock you in Etherea.” The threat is an empty one, I may seem heartless to most people, but Cassy is my best friend, I wouldn’t do that to her. She sighs and I pull her up. Ian has already shot to his feet, stuffing the last of his food into his mouth. “Come on, chipmunk.”

“I am not a chipmunk!” He seems so young when his feathers get all ruffled, though he really does look like a chipmunk when he does that.

“You should try not to act like one then.”

We go downstairs, laughing and joking, until the devil reappears. “Scarlet, come and give me a hug before you leave.” I roll my eyes and turn to hug my darling, dearest mother. Darling daddy has not made an appearance since yesterday.

I slowly saunter to Morgana, and am enwrapped in her discomforting embrace. She sighs after a few seconds and lets go. I cough awkwardly and stroll, with my hands shoved into my leather jacket’s pockets, to the extravagant doors where Ian and Cassy are waiting. The creepy things swing open and we are finally in the open air. I sigh and look back, but Morgana has already turned around and is gliding away in her uncanny manner.

Cassy and Ian pull me away from morbid thoughts with their banter while we are escorted to the Irish gates by the guards. I’ve already used a translocation spell on our bags, as well as on my Ferrari so that it will be waiting when we walk through.

I put my hand against the gate and open it, letting everyone through before closing it on the other side. I shoot a look at Cassy and she leads the guards away until Ian and I are alone in the clearing. The birds are chirping and all the cute little noises are so very obvious in the awkward silence. I put my thumbs in my back pockets and cross my feet nervously. “Um…” Ian looks at me expectantly

“Those eyes…” oh crap, I’m thinking out loud. He grins at me and crosses his arms. “You told me, a few days ago, how you felt-“I’m so nervous I can feel the blush spreading over my boobs. “But I needed to think, and I’ve thought so-“

“Are you trying to preserve my ego?”

“What? No! Why would you- oh, you think-“I laugh nervously. “No, that’s really not it.” He puts his hands around my sides and pulls mine from my pockets. Then he looks up and smiles in that adorable, crooked way of his. I can’t look away, it’s so…

I cough and continue, “I think that I-“. Oh, damn. I’ve been practicing this speech for days in my head, but everything about him is messing with it. “I really, really like you. I don’t know why and it’s kind of scary. Everything Declan said that day was true, I’m scared of hurting you, of losing you. Being around you makes me feel like I can breathe, and for the first time, in a long time, I feel so relaxed.” His right hand is running over my cheek, and I sigh audibly.

“But only around you. I’m sorry I ran away, it was stupid of me. And if I could, I would tell you everything, but there are some things even I don’t understand, so please bear with me-“

Before another word can come out of my mouth he’s got his hands on the back of my neck, pulling me close while he kisses me with such passion I can feel my bones melting. I run my hands through his hair, his soft, chocolate coloured hair. When we break apart, it sounds as if we’ve been running a marathon. Not that I ever want to run one of those again.

We smile at each other, and he brushes a strand of hair from my eye. “I think Cassy is going to come looking for us soon…” I say, not wanting to move. He smiles sadly and lets me go, turning in the wrong direction. I take his hand and half-run the right way, towing him along.

We materialise near the road, laughing like idiots while Cassy glares. “I hope you were having fun back there, but if you don’t mind, I need to get to Dublin before noon.” She huffs and opens the passenger seat door, slamming it behind her. I open the door for Ian, kissing him on the cheek before I close it and get into my own seat.

I rev the engine, and it purrs to me. “Buckle up, kiddies; we’re in for a bumpy ride.” Ian laughs while Cassy looks almost green. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, Cass. You’ll live through it, you always do.” With that I speed down the tarred road, the rolls green hills passing by in a blur. One more hour and the royal pain will be unavailable in Dublin, leaving Ian and I to other occupations. Possibly half that, I haven’t tested this engine’s full capacity yet.

“See? Record time,” I say as Cassy grimaces, her face still a little green.

“I’ll be back soon, you two can go to that café over there while you wait,” she calls out, almost sprinting away.

“Are all fey like that?” Ian asks, walking beside me.

“Most of them can’t stand steel, or plastic, it isn’t natural, so they can’t abide not having a connection to growing or living things.” I take his hand in mine as discreetly as I can. He looks at me, but closes his around it. I miss this, I think to myself, having someone to touch, feeling so alive and wanted.

We sit in the corner, and I get him to order an Irish coffee (subtly asking the waitress to put it in a normal cup with extra cream). Ordering a proper cup of coffee and some cake for myself and before you judge me, my body is in a form of stasis, I can eat whatever the hell I want and not get fat.

When he takes that first sip, I can’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “That has got to be the most-“he pulls a face, “-disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted. What the hell is in it?” he looks like a little kid having his first taste of red wine, his face scrunching up like he’s eaten a lemon.

“Coffee, heavy cream, sugar… and whiskey of course.” I burst into gales of laughter. “Oh the look on your face is priceless!” he grins evilly and lunges at my cake. “Oh, no, buddy boy. You do not touch my strawberry cheesecake; I will have that hand on a platter.”

He glares at me, but I can see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leans back in his chair and I look away, only to turn back and replace him drinking my coffee. I pull a face, but keep taking bites from the cheesecake. The waitress brings me another one and I smile angelically at him. Cassy finally shows up just as we finish, somehow managing to acquire twelve different bags full of Morgana knows what.

The rest of the day we spend walking around the city, going into cathedrals and other such things. Ian’s eyes look as if they’re trying to pop out of his head. While he’s looking at some suit of armour, Cassy pulls me aside. “Well?” she looks me up and down expectantly.

“What?” I avoid her gaze.

“Have you told him how you feel yet?” I look down.

“Yes…” she squeals and hugs me.

“Oh Scarlet, I’m so happy for you, you really deserve him!” she exclaims as she pulls me into the tightest and most painful hug ever.

“Cassy, you’re squishing my lungs…” she lets go but looks at me knowingly.

“If you break his heart or run away from him, I swear on the moon and stars I will kick your ass myself,” she flicks me on the nose and I roll my eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll let go of him any time soon, Cass.” She laughs and Ian finally looks around while we both feign innocence.

The late afternoon sun is warm on our backs, lighting up the autumn leaves as we walk. We say our goodbyes at the car, Cassy will be using a portal this time, and Ian gets into the passenger seat while Cassy and I share another hug. “I will see you in April, Scarlet, when the leaves return.”

I smile and she walks off, disappearing before the end of the street. Ian takes my hand again, after I heave myself into the car. I pull him close and kiss him for the hell of it.

“That has got to be the best part of today,” he says, when I finally let him go.

“Don’t say that around the locals, they may hang you off of a bridge by your toes and pour stout down your throat.” There’s that sexy, crooked smile again, this time the thought stays in my head. He kisses me again, but I pull away before anything else happens, we need to be back at Blacktower soon. Sadly, but at least I don’t have to let him out of my sights then. Occupying him will be the most fun I’ve had in decades.

Standing in my old office, on the other side of my own desk is a weird feeling, but I ignore it as I stare down the current headmaster.

“Ian O’Connor will be moved to the east wing under my tower, Headmaster. And before you argue with me, just remember whose portrait is hanging behind you and which seal is on that order.” I point a black fingernail at the letter from the High Council.

He stutters apologies and signs the order. I’ve already had the rooms readied for Ian and all his stuff has been moved. He’s waiting outside the office, confused as hell, but not talking to anyone. The drive had been ideal; we joked and laughed all the way from Dublin. The sun lit up the grey walls just as we drove through the gates, reminding me of its glory days, when I fought from them.

With everything arranged I walk out of what used to be my study and motion to Ian to follow me. “Where are we going?”

“I had you moved so I could keep a closer eye on you,” I say, leading the way to his new suite. “It is made to befit someone of your…tendencies. That and there’s a secret passage to my library from your sitting room.” We reach the door and I pull out a key, handing it to him to do the honours. “The shield now encompasses your rooms, so no one can get in unless you want them to.”

The shock on his face as he takes in the furniture, the artworks and all the gaming consoles he would ever need makes me want to kiss him. Then he goes and runs his hand through his hair and I groan.

When he yells in excitement in his room I know he’s found all the other presents from his mother. “Where in the world do you people get this stuff?” Well, usually deliveries from human companies and payments of the full amount before the stuff even leaves the store.

“Just go in the bathroom, its gets better,” I yell back, sitting on one of the couches, a sapphire blue leather creation with black silk pillows. Almost everything is from Hecate, only the paintings are from Hades. A few Monet’s, some framed gaming posters; everything a teenage boy could ever want is in here.

He runs back into the sitting room, his face lit up like a little kid’s at Yuletide. He tackles me on the couch, mumbling “thank you” constantly while his head lies on my boobs. “I take it you like all your new toys?” I laugh at him when gets off me, blushing.

“How did you get me an Xbox, a PlayStation, a Nintendo Wii and an apple Mac?” he asks and I shrug.

“That was all your parents; I just gave them a few suggestions. They possibly have more money than sense, but that’s just my opinion.” He grins like the young boy he is and my face must show the overwhelming sadness creeping across my mind.

“What’s wrong?” he looks at me with such kindness I nearly start crying. I mentally berate myself, but I just hide it behind a smile and shake my head at him.

“Nothing,” I clear my throat and plaster a smile on my face. “I’m just glad you like it.” He takes my hands and pulls me up, then kisses me. I put my hand on his neck and pull him closer. But we stop when he notices the shiny new phone charging on the desk which started ringing. “They had to get him an iPhone,” I mutter darkly.

He answers and I can hear someone, probably his foster mother, on the other end. He sounds so excited when he tells her about the room, the gaming stuff, the posters, and the bathroom. I walk to the shelf full of games, staring at the titles I ordered for him. He can play the same game on any one of those things now. I sigh, and he looks at me curiously. I did technically empty out the human store, much to the glee of the owner and the cashier.

“I’m going to my room,” I mouth at him, he frowns and nods.

I open the door to the passage and trudge up the stairs. Opening the door, I flick my hand to clean up the dust, light the fire and start the water boiling.

I walk to a cabinet hidden in my bookshelf and pull out some vodka, I grab a glass from the silver tray on the sideboard and some sugary human fizzy drink. I mix the vodka and coke, and plonk myself down into an armchair in front of my giant fireplace. I summon one of my books and attempt to distract myself from the idiotic thoughts racing around my head.

Ian smiling…kissing me… staring at his room like an awestruck child. He is a child, what you feel is wrong… I hit myself in the head with the book and sink down into the chair. Why must I be such a damn saint? I wasn’t always like this; I used to be carefree, completely oblivious to the world and its judgement. What the hell is wrong with me?

The next morning I was rudely awakened by my alarm. Swearing in a few different languages I get out of bed, making my way to the bathroom. I flick my hand and the rather large tub starts to fill while I try to brush my hair. The black bird’s nest finally under control, I tie it up and get in, sighing loudly.

I don’t want to go to school; I don’t want to spend time around judgemental little children who forget that I can maim them without raising my hand, even in my head I sound like a petulant child. When I get out I summon my clothes (I’m feeling lazy today, bite me), pulling on my boots and brushing my hand through my hair once last time, I go to replace Ian.

“Get up lazy bones!” I yell as I yank him off the bed.

“Why?” he mumbles.

“Because you have to graduate and I don’t. Now get dressed before I do it for you.” I leave him there and send for food in the sitting room. I can hear him stumbling around as my coffee appears. When he finally comes out, pulling a shirt over his head, his hair in its usual disarray. I purposefully look out the window, smiling into my coffee.

A few days of happy bliss follow, but I’m starting to get extremely irritated with having to go to school.

“Ugh! Why does it feel like this is getting worse?” I moan, dumping my bag on the lawn and sitting down. Ian laughs and stays standing, staring at me as I lie on the grass. “I know I came up with this curriculum, but nobody told me it was this damn boring!”

“Well, you get bored easily,” he shrugs, still looking off into the distance.

“Turn around,” I say and hold out my hand. He makes as if to pull me up, but I pull him down on top of me instead, his shocked face is so adorable. “Hello,” I say, pull him close and kissing him full on the mouth.

“Usually when I meet people, I ask them how they feel, but that works too.” I laugh and he starts kissing down my neck, oh how he makes my blood rush. I nip him on the shoulder and pull his face towards mine. “I’d really like to get to know you a lot better,” I say before kissing him in ways I’m pretty sure I’d almost forgotten. But eventually, grass gets itchy and teenage boys get tired, so we got up and walked back to the school. I take his hand in mine and swing his arm in a lame, carefree way.

We’re both smiling like idiots by the time we reach the archway we came through, and a nasty fit of laughter causes my skin to crawl. Some of the kids who had been tormenting Ian since the day he had arrived were walking our way, and they’d spotted us.

Ian lets go and shoves his hands in his pockets, mine stay free to ward off any trouble from them. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the freak mage and his new…babysitter,” one of the short blondes croons, hanging off of her boyfriend’s arm.

“Have we met before? Or are you just trying to intimidate me? “I cross my arms and glare at her, subtly pulling all the energy to myself that I can. Ian’s eyes grow wide as he realises what I’m about to do.

“You should know me; I’m Victoria Montclair, heiress and current best student here.” She flicks her dyed hair over her shoulder, attempting to hold my gaze. Smirking, I just look at her in feigned boredom.

“If I’d heard of you, I may have cared, and if you’re the best here, you’d know not to motion with your hands so obviously when you are casting a spell.” I love it when the ‘mighty’ lose their footholds. “Now, seeing as you seem to have no respect for those older-“I point to myself, “or better-“I point to Ian, “Than you, I feel obliged to give you a healthy dose.”

Before she or her friends can move, I summon up the moisture in the stones beneath their feet and freeze it, making them all fall on their designer behinds. I pull the blonde girl up and position her face in front of mine, “If you ever try to mess with me or him again, you will face my wrath. And it’s not a pleasant sensation,” I drop her and take Ian’s arm, leading him away before he wreaks any havoc of his own.

The statue debacle a few months ago was bad enough, and caused by the same group of idiots in one of the few moments I hadn’t been around Ian. He had his father’s temper, all right. And his mother’s deadly creativity, I pity those he has the pleasure of destroying someday.

When we reach his rooms, he shrugs his arm away from me and stalks through the door. “Why did you do that?” he asks as I follow him, shutting it behind me and leaning against its comforting wood.

“I know how they make you feel, and I wanted to make sure they knew not to mess with either of us. I may look like I’m young enough to be here, but people like that forget what I can do. Especially the stupider ones with parents who obviously have more money than braincells.” I can feel him glaring at me, but I walk over to the other door, opening it before looking at him again.

“I’m sorry for having to do that, but I’m not sorry that I did it for you.” I walk up and wait for him to shut it, instead, he grabs my hand and I’m the one falling into his arms.

“Teach me how to do that,” he says, kissing me over and over again.

“Only if you promise never to use it on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“I promise,” he carries me back into the sitting room and dumps me on the couch. “But your punishment will be to play a level of this game with me, you wounded my ego.” He looks at me with puppy dog eyes, but his crooked smile ruins it.

“And if I beat you?” I flutter my lashes at him.

“There are far more creative punishments than this for such offences,” he says as the game loads. I do beat him, but the punishment is worth it. He drags me to his room and we fall on the bed, pulling off each other’s shirts in the midst of frenzied kissing. Sadly, we fall asleep before anything interesting happens.

Waking up that morning, with my head on his chest, listening to him breathe, I have the overwhelming sense of joy. Excepting my bra stabbing into my ribcage, it was perfect. I sigh and look at him; somehow, he’s awake before I am.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and I snuggle my head back into his bare chest. His hand runs through my hair, pulling at the small knots.

“It’s too early to be awake,” I mumble, as I listen to his heartbeat, tracing my finger tip along his intricate tattoos. “And you are too young for these.”

“I’m nearly eighteen, Scar, that’s practically old age in mage terms.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m old enough to be your great, great, great, okay a lot of greats, grandmother,” I grumble, looking up at him. His eyes distract me from any further complaints. He reaches out and cups my face in his hand, running his thumb over my cheek. Thankfully it’s Saturday again, or I would have been berated for keeping him from his studies.

“So…I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says, sitting up and taking my hands. “Scarlet Helena Mithra Evans, will you be my girlfriend?” I stare at him in shock, my entire body feeling as if it’s been frozen. My mouth hangs open and Ian is looking straight into my eyes.

“I thought you would never ask,” warmth slowly edges its way back through me, and I lean forward to kiss him. His hands move to my shoulders and I push him down onto the bed again. “Ian…’ I mumble, “I don’t know the rest of your name.”

“Does it matter right now?” I feel more than hear his reply on my lips. He flips me over and puts his arms on either side of my head. My breath catches, but I nod and he smiles. “Well, Ian is my first name, as you know, but the rest of it is Ian Grigori Seamus O’Connor.”

“Well Mr O’Connor, it seems you have me as a prisoner, what shall happen to me?” I flutter my lashes at him.

“Absolutely nothing, we’re going to get dressed and play video games,” he says, letting go of me and getting off the bed. “I’m going to kick your butt this time,” he says, walking into the bathroom. I sigh in frustration and punch the pillow, this boy is going to drive me insane.

Talk about not being able to take a damn hint, I mean really. Here I am in black lace underwear, kissing him suggestively, and this boy wants to play video games. Any other male would have gotten it after twenty minutes; he still hasn’t after ten hours. Sighing again, I get up and pull my shirt over my head, mumbling obscenities while trying to locate my pants. I then go on a mission to replace a hairbrush, or any other thing that can get the knots out of my hair.

To my dismay, all of his hair stuff is in the bathroom, and I sure as hell refuse to impede on his innocence. He is definitely the weirdest boy I’ve ever dated, and most of them had grown up in far stricter societies. I stomp into the sitting room and up the stairs; guess I’ll have to use my own damn hairbrush. May as well change my shirt while I’m at it.

After what feels like an hour, Ian is finally done. “You take longer than I ever have to get ready, you know that? And I used to be forced into corsets every morning.”

“You’re kidding,” his mouth drops open.

“For the better part of two millennia it was all the rage in women’s fashion. Most of the time, though, I’d just go without the damn things if I didn’t have to spend time around mortals. They were very dangerous to the health, you know.”

“I thought those were just a myth,” he says, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well it’s better than what the Chinese did to your feet.”

“I don’t want to know,” he says, waving his hands in front of him. “It sounds painful and utterly terrifying.”

“Pain is beauty, and beauty takes a lot.”

“Can we please change the subject?”

“Oh, fine, you wimp.” He throws a pillow at me in annoyance. “Watch it! I just brushed this hair,” I say, throwing one and hitting him squarely in the chest. I’ve fought better battles with far better strategies, but none of them were as much fun as that pillow fight. Eventually we stop, and Ian has a strange look on his face, staring at my back where my shirt has become stuck on my bra. I quickly move to pull it down, but then I realise he must have seen it this morning and last night.

“Why do you have that?” he asks, pointing at the reproduction of Durer’s melancholia Angel. “A lot of things have attacked me, some of them left lasting marks,” I say, not looking at him.

“So what attacked your shoulder?”

“An angry dragon.” He reaches out to me, but I purposefully move to the other couch.

“And your leg?” my hand moves to the spot he mentioned nervously, the scar still twinges in cold weather.

“A centaur with a grudge and a lot of arrows.” I hide behind my hair, biting my lip. “And one of your father’s Furies bit me on the arm.” I run my hand across the dagger tattoo; I’d killed that thing, and taken great satisfaction in it. Ian is looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head, what is it with people and forgetting how old I am?

I smile sadly at him, “Sometimes people can’t fathom how much it sucks to be an immortal incapable of dying. I know it sounds like fun, and it is, for about two hundred years. But when everyone you care about starts dying or growing older and you are still the same, it’s kind of depressing. You might never understand, but I’m hoping you will one day.” He doesn’t say a word, and the bird songs seem to make our silence even worse.

I stand to go, “if you need time to think, I’ll go now and when you want to ask me questions, I swear I will try my best to answer them.” I lean down and kiss him on the forehead and walk out of the door that leads to a smaller courtyard of the castle. I wrap my arms around my chest, trying to hold in all the pain that is threatening to come out, and walk purposefully to the old training room that is still equipped with every one of my favourite, sharp, distractions.

The training dummy is starting to look the worse for wear as my combinations of kicks and punches land all over it. I pick up a traditional Scottish broadsword and hack it to pieces while practicing the forms an ancient warrior once spent a week teaching me.

Ye hold it directly above yer head, and swing down with all yer might, but always keep yer feet evenly spaced, or someone’ll be able to knock ye over an’ behead ye. The voice comes unbidden into my head, old Craig was one of the best, I almost miss him.

The door to the training room opens and the sword slips. A sharp shooting pain resonates from my hand and I look down to see a deep cut almost reaching the bone. “Dammit!” I mutter, ripping the bottom of my shirt off and tying it around the hand.

Whoever came in is still in the doorway, not moving. When I look up I mutter more obscenities, three hours of peace and quiet and now he shows up. Great, just absolutely wonderful.

“What happened to your hand?” he asks, walking carefully forward, his hair falling into his eyes.

“I cut it, because you distracted me,” I say, wiping the silver blood off the sword and onto my jeans. I walk over to the rack on my bare feet, through the remains of the training dummy. I drop it on its spot and grab my shoes, extremely aware of the rips made, showing off the hole through my leg barely hidden by the barbed wire tattoo wrapped around my shin.

My hair is sticking to my neck, as are his eyes, when I stand straight again. “Did you want to ask me something?” I try to keep my expression neutral, dreading his reply.

“How many times have you tried to die?” he hangs his head, keeping his hands in his pockets. I plonk onto the ground and pull on my socks.

“About… twelve, with good reasons. A few hundred others for no reason other than reckless abandonment.” I try not to look his way as I pull my boots on.

“Why did you try…twelve times?” I sigh and try to hold back my emotions, yanking on the clasps.

“There’s more to my curse than just not being able to die, I’m not allowed to feel happiness, and your father takes great enjoyment at ensuring that.” I say, heaving to my feet again.

“How?” the puzzled look on his face warms my heart.

“Every time I met a guy, I started to like him and well, that made me happy. As soon as I thought I loved him, Hades would show up and torture him to death while making me watch. There is only one thing that can bind me, and Hades uses it only when he kills the men I loved.” I don’t hide the bitterness of my tone, open contempt for Hades is leaking through.

“Your father makes my life a living hell, and I’ve tried every way of killing myself or getting myself killed, including jumping off cliffs, drowning and pissing off a centaur. But I get brought back and partially healed, making my lesson a further torment. What I told you earlier is true, it’s depressing to be me. I’m the bloody poster child of suicidal tendencies,” with that I punch a hole through the door.

He doesn’t move or say anything until I try to leave, then he grabs my arm, turns around and kisses me. It isn’t soft or romantic, it a desperate kiss meant to comfort me, to make me remember that I still have him, that I will always have him. His hand encircles my bare waist, resting on my right hip.

I look into his eyes and whisper “Thank you…” he just smiles and kisses me again, and we sink to the floor. His hand crawls up my shirt and mine explore the many curves of his muscles. This is nothing like last night; it feels so much deeper, and so different from what I’ve experienced.

To avoid any awkward situations, like someone walking in on us, I use a transport spell to move us to my bed. Ian looks shocked but I quickly distract him by pulling off my shirt. His eyes move appreciatively down from my face to where my newly made shorts begin.

“Have you ever, um…” I ask him, motioning to the way we’re lying suggestively.

“Um…not really.” he blushes but I stretch up to kiss him.

“I won’t pressure you if you don’t want to,” I say, holding his neck in one hand and leaning in my other elbow. My legs are bent on either side of him, and somehow, I seem to have ripped his shirt into pieces.

“I never got further than kissing…people in general avoided me, even before I came here. Girls especially,” he sighs, and looks away from me. I grab his jaw and turn his face toward me, then kiss him.

“Well, that’s their loss now, isn’t it?” I smile evilly at him and he laughs, but leans back to rest his ass on his calves. The look on my face must be obvious, and he smiles back at me in that adorably crooked way. I hook my left leg around his waist and pull him forward. “Now, Mr O’Connor, I think it’s time we discuss where we stand on this issue before I am driven insane by your innocence.”

“My innocence? Miss Evans, you wound my pride,” he says, as he kisses down my throat.

“Yes, your innocence, mine was lost some time ago. In many different ways,” I say thinking; please don’t be the jealous type, please. He just smiles and kisses me on the mouth again.

Before things went any further, though, I stopped

“Are you absolutely sure, Ian?” I ask before his mouth meets mine once more. He doesn’t get a chance to answer because I can feel someone banging against my door, trying to get through the shield. “Oh for the love of everything that isn’t sacred!” I yell, getting up and summoning my clothes to cover me.

“What is it?” Ian asks a look of obvious disappointment on his face. Barely containing my rage, I get off him and slide onto the floor. Bloody hell!

“There are some very irate people attempting to get through my door, so stay here and get dressed,” I say before flashing out of the room and into the atrium of my tower, yanking the door open in indignation.

“What the hell do you want?” I say, seeing Hades and the headmaster. My hair is in a mess and they’ve interrupted a very intimate moment, this had better be good.

“Miss Evans, we cannot locate Mr O’Connor, and the Lord of Death seems to think that he is with you,” the headmaster says, interjecting before Hades can start one of his tirades.

“And if he is,” I say, crossing my arms and sending a thought to Ian, get into the sitting room, now! “He is under my protection, and I replace it easier to keep him under the protection of this shield, where his classmates can’t look at him as if he’s a circus freak.”

“I want to see my son this instant!” Hades is spitting with rage. “I don’t trust you and I never will,” he tries to push his way through the shield but it bounces him back.

“So you disagree with the ruling of the High Council, made but a week past in your presence?” I’m still leaning against the doorframe, enjoying the effect of my words on Hades.

“Shall I inform the other members of your disapproval, my lord Hades? I’m sure Marcus would be happy to tie you to the rock himself, if you continue with your current behaviour.”

Members of the High Council were never allowed to be killed, only grievously injured. For Marcus, Morgana, Hecate and Hades, the punishment was to be tied to a rock on a deserted island, having their non-essential organs pecked out each day by carnivorous birds. Wilhelm had a strong aversion to silver, yes the legends are true, and so he gets tied up with them until his skin burns away. Vladimir is afraid of enclosed spaces, so he gets stabbed through the chest, arms and legs with stakes and nailed into a coffin.

The punishments usually only last for a few hundred years. My punishment is living, so all I got every time I screwed up were lectures from all five of them.

Hades’ face pales, and he quickly calms down, the last time he was punished, we left him for a millennium on the island. It may have been painful, but he had deserved far more than he got.

“I just want to see my son,” he mumbles, he’s never been this complacent around me, which makes me wonder if it’s all because of Ian.

“By all means then, do come in.” I wave my hand across the shield and motion for them to follow me up the stairs. Ian is sitting in an armchair, feigning interest in a Shakespearean book of poetry.

“Your father has arrived,” I announce loudly, and he grunts in response. The headmaster moves to stare at my bookshelves, carefully combing through the piles of scrolls, manuscripts, tomes and modern paperbacks.

“Headmaster, would you like some tea?” I ask politely, and with a hint of disapproval.

“No, it’s quite alright. Mr O’Connor seems to be perfectly alright and I have many other things to do today. Goodbye Miss Evans, Mr O’Connor, my lord Hades.” Neither of them acknowledges his bow or his footsteps almost too quick for a walk but not enough for a run.

The angry whispers get to me, though, so I clear my throat. “Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to go to Ian’s chambers, I would dearly appreciate it.” Use the front door; I say only to Ian, I’ll see you later when he leaves.

When they’re gone I collapse onto the recently vacated armchair and sigh in frustration. Twice in one day, twice in a single bloody day I get rejected. Damn these immortals and their inability to grasp situations.

I’m going to wait until he’s completely ready, I don’t want to regret this.