Angel of Fire - the Breath of Immortality - Book One #Wattys2014

Opposites Attract

 Chapter 41 - Opposites Attract

Blurry at first because it was kind of hard to focus while holding the flames, I narrowed my eyes. Squinting in the gloom of the dungeon, I clearly made out Vycandor's mark.

 A mark on his left forearm just like mine.

Seized by shock, I struggled to put out the fire. Turns out it's much easier to call fire than to extinguish it. I had to slap both hands against the armor repeatedly before the flames finally died.

 Carefully moving closer to get a better look, I stared at Vycandor's arm. His sigil so closely resembled mine that, at first, I thought they were identical. However, upon closer inspection, I realized that the only difference between our marks was that his didn't show the element of fire. Instead, it was the polar opposite.

I gasped, stumbling back and suddenly remembered something Thomas had told me. "The foundation of the entire universe is based on balance.” According to him, supposedly from the time I was born my soul had been on a collision course to form the perfect union. Like opposites attracting.

 My mind swam with the possibilities. Not to mention the horror. Could Vycandor really be the one? The angel I was meant to love?

For a moment I allowed myself to think that maybe Serenity had been wrong about him. And worse, much worse – that I had been wrong about him. I shook my head like an Etch-A-Sketch to erase the unpleasant memory of his attack.

 Too bad it didn't work.

 Doubt began creeping in like a thickening fog, making me question if Vycandor was truly responsible for turning mortals into monsters. Somehow I didn't think so. Not anymore. Right then, what I really, really wanted to know was if it wasn't him, then just who in the hell had poisoned my friends.

When he didn't immediately burst into flames, Vycandor cautiously lowered an arm and peered up at me questioningly. The familiar pull of his magnetic eyes drew me under his spell once again, threatening to consume me. Either from a desperate need to understand, or out of sheer stupidity, or maybe both, I let it happen without putting up much of a fight for once.

Drawing helplessly closer to a monster that had just tried to make me dead, I continued to ponder the impossible as something dripped on my boots, making soft, wet plopping noises. It took great effort on my part, but I managed to break the invisible bond forming between us, only to look down and realize with horror that the drips were coming from me.

My gaze traveled slowly up my arms to the swirling stitches now seeping with blood, and then back down to the ground as blood mixed with body fluids formed a fresh pool of gore at my feet.

It occurred to me only then as my skin continued to turn a deeper shade of green and rot away before my very eyes, that the only thing keeping my skin from sliding right off my body was all the stitches.

At that exact moment I didn't have time to debate whether or not Vycandor was the one for me. Especially when sooner rather than later it wouldn't matter much anyway.

 I was pretty sure zombies didn't have soul mates.