The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

upon his abilities by accident. He did not recall the sense of glee that Dewhurst was most obviously experiencing. All he remembered was terror and pain, as he could not prevent objects from flying at him.

The men with Dewhurst applauded their master, who managed to make one of their capes fly out behind them. This feat must seem amazing to them, but it did not seem to impress Dewhurst. His face darkened and he cut off his men’s applause. “Upstairs, all of you.”

The three guards thundered up a staircase that Aidan could not see but could sense. “What do you think of that, m’lad?” When Aidan did not answer, Dewhurst came at him, brandishing another knife. “Well?”

“You’re disgusting and pathetic, but it wasn’t anything I didn’t know already.” The words had no feeling in them; Aidan was exhausted and wished unconsciousness would overtake him then and there. It did not.

With a laugh, Dewhurst brought the blade to rest against Aidan’s jugular. It was cold and repulsive, and Aidan wanted to wrench away, but he knew better. “Tell me your secrets.”

“What secrets?” Aidan asked.

“Don’t play the fool, Aidan Ingledark. Tell me, how do you make things disappear and reappear? Shouldn’t I be able to do that now?” He looked thoughtful for a moment and then increased pressure on the blade. “Do I need more blood?”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “How would I know? I’ve never feasted on another’s lifeblood before like a ruddy vampire.”

That earned him a smart slap upside the head.

Aidan grunted. He’d bitten his tongue by accident.

Dewhurst continued talking as if Aidan had not insulted him. “You drank of one of the Goblets Immortal, then.” It was not a question. So, he did not know as much about Aidan as the seer did. That made Aidan wince; he hadn’t trusted that woman a jot, and yet she hadn’t shared the most important details about his and her abilities to this man. Dewhurst must really be Larkin’s enemy. And if Larkin had been on his side and not Dewhurst’s, perhaps she could have helped them after all.

Aidan was struck again. Stars swam before his eyes, and he let out a small involuntary groan.

“Tell me why I don’t have your abilities.” Dewhurst’s agitation was showing, a weakness that Aidan could exploit if only he could think through the pain and the alcohol.

When his vision cleared, Aidan was silent, trying to gain whatever control he could over the situation. But when Dewhurst flew at him a third time, he blurted out in frustration, “How on earth am I supposed to know?”

Dewhurst lowered his hand and studied Aidan. When he spoke, his voice was distant, as if he were thinking out loud and not actually speaking to his prisoner. “I was certain it had to be in your blood, and it is…just not as potent. You drank from a Goblet Immortal, the magic flows through your veins. What was she not telling me?”

She? Could the madman mean Larkin? Aidan thought it was likely, but if so, perhaps the seer had been forced to tell. He shuddered. What of her own abilities? Did Dewhurst not know what Larkin was?

“Perhaps I just need more practice,” Dewhurst was saying. With that, he reached out his hand again and Pulled Aidan’s cravat, which gave a weak tug and then lay still. With a gasp for breath, Dewhurst set his jaw and gave it another go. This time, the cravat obeyed Dewhurst to a greater degree, though it was not what the lord must have wanted. He gave out another great gasp for air and reached out until he grew red in the face. This time, the cravat listened to the enemy’s Calling, and choked Aidan until he could not draw breath.

Gray and black spots hazed Aidan’s vision until, with much huffing and puffing, Dewhurst Released the fabric. “Well.”

Aidan coughed and gagged. It felt like an invisible hand remained at his throat, a phantom presence that reminded Aidan that Dewhurst could and probably would do it again. He braced himself, ready to hold his breath in case he needed to pass out.

However, Dewhurst didn’t seem to be recovering from his gasping and panting. “That was impossible,” he sputtered. “Is it like that every time?”

Aidan did not know what he meant. Pulling, Pushing, Calling, Dismissing, Summoning, Releasing…it had no physical repercussions for Aidan. Perhaps each of the Blest has a different price to pay for their abilities. Yet as Dewhurst recovered, and Aidan thought on the matter more, the more it seemed that it might just be Dewhurst over-thinking things and putting too much physical strength into his process. Never in a million years of torture would Aidan ever advise the brute on this, lest he become more powerful. A shudder rippled through Aidan’s body, and he coughed several dry coughs.

Red in the face and trembling, Dewhurst approached Aidan again. He looked years older than he had moments before, sweat dribbling down his brow and cheeks. The man reeked of perspiration.

Aidan knew he was missing something vital, something that had to do with his blood. While Dewhurst had been choking him, Aidan hadn’t thought of fighting back. Why was that? He could have easily Dismissed the cravat and stopped the man. But a part of him had been focusing on what he imagined Dewhurst was thinking.

“You will tell me more later.” And with that, the man’s Pull retreated up the stairs.

Aidan closed his eyes and let himself drowse as the alcohol and fatigue at last won out.

Chapter Fifteen

As always, he’d gone fishing by the creek without permission. That is what happened in past reality and in his recurring dreams; and like in both reality and his dreams, Aidan made his way home after the screams had been taken up and gone at once silent. This is where the dream split off from reality. Instead of returning to find the barn ablaze and his uncle staring at it with a lost look, the old man was now smiling a sad yet