DOFAB#3

Chapter Twelve

~ TRISTAN ~

Duality. It's the concept few of us remember we live by. The faithful remain in touch with their spiritual side while most have fallen, like the exiled, victim to the seduction of what it means to be a physical being. For devils, it's easy. Our predatory drive aligns with our spiritual purpose—feed, corrupt, no mercy. Throw an occasional sacrificial bone to Haysha once in a while and the world is ours for the taking. For the celestials, they must walk the golden tightrope Zeura has set them upon. Don't lust. Don't touch. Protect Zeura's mortal children and always honor their maker. Warriors of chastity, pure-souled, glittering-tutu-wearing puppets whose autonomy doesn't belong to themselves. It belongs to their mother in the sky.

Angels and demons are cut from the same cloth, unable to deny their mothers, whereas free will is given to the vampirie and mortals. The difference between being spiritually created by one's maker and being birthed unto the earth by them.

For Rien's flowers, free will is a tricky concept. Eevie are not wholly born of the earth nor sewn in Naveeden. They exist on the fringes of light and dark in the gray. Their muddled existence must be the reason Rien sought to divide them, to create order in their union of the flame. It does beg the question, is the reason my father never succeeded in corrupting a temple maiden of the willow because their spiritual life force is impenetrable from the dark or is it because they exist in the gray? A spiritual gray akin to the one their thorne sisters occasionally frolic?

One certainty I do know is whatever the answer, I'm going to have the utmost fun before arriving at its blossoming conclusion.

"Stop staring." Cascading curled tresses shield Kinley from me as she continues to stare out at the majestic sea's rolling capless waves, the coastline to the UR within sight. She walked away from her friend Maya's lengthy and invasive questioning of Talrek's cryptic replies to this evening's festivities.

"To stare is to flatter."

Kinley's spine stiffens as if I've impaled her with an ice pick. Her gaze darts right then left as I clasp the ferry's railing, sandwiching her between the scenic view and the chill radiating from my frosty aura.

"Your flattery is unwanted, as is your presence."

"Is my presence unwanted ?" I tighten my hold on the railing, blocking her attempt to duck under my arm. "Because if memory serves, you very much wanted my attentions before I denied them."

"You were responsible for part of that dream?"

"And here I thought you would have referred to it as a nightmare. Proves my point, don't you think?" I move to the side, leaning on the railing, fighting the tugging at the corner of my mouth. It's not often I make someone speechless. Usually, it's because I've cut off their head.

"You had no right to defile my dreams for your own amusement, you black-hearted beast!

Cuter than this eevie's flustered cheeks is the furrowing of her brow. She's as menacing as a rainbow tulip.

"I had to find some way to wake you. What better way than to use your worst fear against you?"

"You aren't my worst fear."

Her bravado falters as I step forward, yet she remains rooted. Unwilling to allow me to cause her to retreat by intimidation alone.

"Your worst fear is realizing you would have enjoyed it."

Smack.

Kinley cradles her hand, mouth gaped in shock. Her bones fractured upon impact. My bones as unforgiving as the mercy I extend.