Page 81 of Changeling
The telltale clomping of a horse approaches from the distance, but before I can worry about it, Dominus sweeps me up and carries me off. I bury my face in his neck, embarrassed. A grown man causing a scene.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, but I can’t stop crying.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
“But I do!” Oh no. Sobbing. Instead of getting better, it’s only getting worse. “I could have saved them. I had the power. If I’d known then what I know now, it would have been so simple.”
He tightens his arms, his hold on me fierce as he takes us farther away. The snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves beneath his feet tell me we’ve left the road for the woods.
At the very least, I’m grateful to be alone with him. To not be witnessed by strangers in this confusing cascade of the past disrupting my present against my will. I thought I had this properly buried, but it claws from the grave, leaving me awash with tears.
I’m shaking in Dominus’s hold, sniffling and crying on his shoulder. I can’t seem to stop.If only…if only…
“You’re safe, Sebastian. Let it all out. We’ll get through this together.”
How does he know so well what I need to hear? Though his kindness only fuels my tears, I do begin to feel more myself. I cling to him, letting the rise and fall of his chest against mine lull me back to calm. The crying doesn’t stop, but I can think through it at least.
Dominus stops and sits with me still cradled against him in his arms. He’s so unbelievably strong to carry me uphill as if I weigh nothing.
I’m afraid to open my eyes. Afraid to keep them closed. In my mind, I see the fire, but somehow it’s worse to look away.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. He’s told me not to be, but I can’t help it. I am. I’m ruining this night for us.
“Can you tell me what’s happening?” Dominus’s voice is gentle. “Can we talk about it?”
I sniffle. What do I say? I don’t know where to start.
Dominus has produced a cloth from somewhere and tucks it into my hand. I use it to wipe my face and nose. Finally, I open my eyes. We’re indeed in the woods now, seated on a fallen log, quite a ways from the city.
“What do you want to know?” His answer might help me begin. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him or talk about this with him; it’s that I have no idea how. I’ve shoved this aside for so long I don’t know what to do with it out in the open.
“Ivaz told me there was a fire, that you’d lost your family, and the townspeople saw you work magic. Then they turned on you. Perhaps blamed you even. You hid. Vampires found you and offered a safe haven. It’s a skeletal version at best. Will you tell me in your own words?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes. I’ll tell you, though essentially what you know is what happened.”
“Take your time.”
The memory comes back as if it were yesterday. “The fire started below our house in the shop. I don’t know how. We were always so careful. Father and I had been making nails that day, tedious work but satisfying. We’d cleaned up, as usual, no embers to be seen, nothing that could catch fire near the forge. To this day, I haven’t a clue how it started.”
That’s perhaps the hardest part. When I allow myself to think about this, which is seldom, I search my memory for the cause of the fire and always come up blank. It’s impossible to resign myself to not knowing.
Dominus is waiting so patiently. I steady myself and continue. The faster I get it out, the better.
“We were asleep. Early morning. The witching hour. Still pitch dark outside when the smoke awoke me. Then the sound. I’ll never forget the sound. The roaring crackle and hissing of the flames. The heat.
“I ran without thinking, first to the little landing at the stairs, but the smoke was too thick to draw breath, like hitting a stone wall. My parents slept in the room across, but I couldn’t get there. I shouted to wake them, but I don’t know if they heard me. Considering what happened, I hope they didn’t. Maybe they died in their sleep.”
Dominus strokes my back, a soothing touch. I’ve never told this story. It’s like reliving the terror, only this time, I know the outcome. Nothing can stop my failure.
“I had that feeling I get in my hands that I now know is my magic at the ready. Energy tingled, waiting for my direction, but I’d fought against it my whole life. I’d no idea how to use it.
“I ran back into my room and threw open the window. Flames licked the exterior wall. Smoke poured from the opening. It was barely big enough for a man to fit through, but I made it. I jumped, landed wrong, jarred my legs, and knocked the breath from my chest.
“Someone dragged me to safety. By this time, townsfolk had gathered. The clanking of the city’s emergency bell pounded in my ears. I shook out my legs. People were yelling, coordinating the effort to draw water from the well, bucket after bucket. Someone ordered me to help.
“But the fizzling and sparking at my fingertips was nearly as strong as the house fire itself. I thought my best chance at helping was to use the power I’d neglected. I raised my hands. I didn’t know how to direct it. I just called for more. Pleaded for the power.
“Fire leaped from the building toward me. The blaze doubled. Everyone near me was burned and had to flee. Nearby structures caught flame. I alone was unharmed.
