Heart of Grandeur

By Michelle S. Jones

When Charlotte Mirran is kidnapped by humans claiming to be a secondary breed called Chivals, she is not sure what to think. Following her new friends, Rowan and Arquette, she learns of their secret society, their mission to keep their breed secret, and the unexpected drama of her own past. Heart of Grandeur, a drug that allows the user to take any form imaginable, is an addictive substance the Chivals seem to thrive off of, and although it could free her from the monotony of the simple life she has created, Charlotte learns it has influenced more than she could imagine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365507953

Book preview

Heart of Grandeur

Heart of Grandeur

Michelle S. Jones

I’ll be your anchor, I’ll be your lover.

-The Lover, by Alesana

For Cody

A Chival’s Dictionary

Phrases:

Ceadaich do t‘oglach: Permit thy servant

Easonorach: dishonorable, disgraceful; reproachful; dishonest

Mealladh: a deceiving; a beguiling or defrauding; an alluring; deception

Names:

Ceisdean, an maithte: Ceisdean, the forgiven

Ceisdean: A person secretly beloved; a sweetheart.

Reumiiair: "A traveller, a vagabond."

Ruadhán, an diadhuidh: Ruadhán, the pious

Ruadhán: Ruddle; any substance that dies brown; reddishnesss.

Saidh, do risgeanach: Saidh, your brave soldier.

Saidh: A treasury; the prow of a ship. Also, a bitch.

PROLOGUE

Is it her? Could it be? Should my eyes believe what they see?

The hallway was a murky dark, but I could see a little light’s reflection against the floor from the dim overhead lights: not quite clear, not quite bright. I put my hand out, feeling the indents between each giant white brick that made up the school building. The wall was cool and slick against the stuffy air. Walking along, I felt the cold metal of the lockers, then a doorknob, and more bricks until I found the heavy door that led outside. Looking behind me, the halls were empty and only the hush of teachers speaking behind closed doors bounced along the walls. Turning back to the door, I pushed my weight against it to peek outside, feeling the dewy air rush against my face.

I stared up at the clouds, expecting a dark and brooding morning, a storm threatening: that would be the appropriate weather for the aching feeling coursing through my stomach.

But outside it was actually a bright spring day. The trees were blooming in bright whites and pinks, new with the quiver of warm weather. Purple flowers and weeds had sprung up in colorful patches, uneven brushstrokes and haphazard symmetry on the canvas of the suburban landscape. Plants were forced to survive under crushing concrete and in between its cracks, pleading to be reborn elsewhere. Seeing them struggle with wilted leaves, I could hardly enjoy their beauty.

Suddenly, I turned on my heels, my shoes making a sharp squeak on the slick floor. They were still wet with mid-morning dew and made my ears cringe. I tensed, not wanting to be noticed by a teacher, but the hushed voices continued. The hallway was still empty, except that he stood there—at the end—staring. It wasn’t a frightening stare, and I found myself drawn to it; he coaxed me to approach those striking eyes. And yet I planted my damp shoes down, refusing the pull.

He came quickly then, shrinking the distance between us as if he were levitating. My heart thumped faster with his every step. I had to suppress the lure of the startling confidence his eyes held, locked on my small form. Soon I could see the details of his face: plain, average. But there was more, as if another form crawled beneath his skin, and his eyes were the only visible window to his true identity. As he stopped just feet from me, I couldn’t resist a smile, and he returned it.

Come talk with me, he said in a whisper.

Okay, I whispered back weakly. I couldn’t resist now.

He shifted those hazel eyes away from me and pushed through the heavy door and into the springtime. I still felt the foreign feeling in my gut, one that I couldn’t decipher between nerves or a dark omen. Yet, I followed.

He led me a ways off campus through the surrounding woods, where I really wasn’t supposed to be, a small place filled with wildflowers bathing peacefully in the day’s new sun. I watched his stride, which was almost as confident as his gaze, and noticed bits of copper in his hair shining in the sun. We were out of sight from any prying eyes when we finally stopped, but the space was so open that I still felt vulnerable. We disturbed the meadow’s harmony by seating ourselves in the pool of purple and yellow flowers, and they bowed to our small forms. Trees and new leaves rustled all around us, ringing the meadow, and I squinted at the bright green they reflected, deciding to divert my eyes to the ground. An ant family tottered by and took no notice of the giant forms before them. Birds were our background music.

Sitting across from me, he took my hand ever so gently and I blushed, darting my eyes from him to the ants and birds to him again, smiling.

He laughed a little. I didn’t think you’d let me.

I was surprised the ants didn’t abandon the seeds they so dutifully carried, for was not his voice the sweeter choice than the undeserving plants? I was quiet still, and we sat and held hands. Eventually, conversation picked up and then fell like a row of dominos; we couldn’t help ourselves from blurting out every thought or similarity between us. We laughed as we did.

An hour passed and I soon found my back nestled against his chest. I could feel his gentle breathing, and realized I didn’t even know his name. He was new, suddenly new to my world, and I had welcomed him more quickly and openly than any of my closest friends. But this was a foreign bliss, and I didn’t wish for it to end, for surely it was a dream.

Soon he asked me something I wasn’t prepared for.

Have you ever wished you could change forms, Charlotte?

I knitted my fair eyebrows. Surely I’d mentioned my name, how else would he know it? But this thought was fleeting, and I tried quickly to answer his question. What do you mean? was what I asked instead.

He picked up a ringlet of my hair, fiddling with it. Haven’t you wondered what it would be like to be one of the animals, or invisible for a day? You know, change your form.

It was an odd question, but still it tapped into the reservoir of desires I hadn’t visited in ages. Yes, I admitted. Many times. So many that I’ve found I don’t wish it anymore. I’ve…given up, I guess.

You should never give up on what you believe, or what you desire. Desires are given to you because—one day—you may be gifted with the privilege to receive them. He let my hair fall against my shoulder and pointed to a bird’s silhouette in the far branches of a tree and told me to watch it. Think about how it flies, Charlotte, how free its spirit is. Don’t you wish you had that freedom?

I felt enthralled with his words, sucked in like a vacuum. Yes, I said, closing my eyes in one long blink, catching the rays of sunshine against my face, the cool air running up my arms and giving me goose bumps. I would very much like that. I kept my eyes on the bird and didn’t notice he had snuck a hand into his leather jacket, which was riddled with zippers and pockets.

As captivated as I was towards the birds and his speech, I was even more entranced by his hazel eyes as he turned my face to his. I felt he was going to kiss me, and was fully prepared. I’d accepted many kisses that year, but I was sure I would love his kiss the most.

But before I knew it, an extreme pinch pricked my neck, followed by a cold icy feeling flooding my body. It took me a moment to see him not kissing me, but instead plunging a dark needle into my skin.

I immediately panicked, wanting desperately to get up and flee, to be free of the needle and the danger, but when I tried to move my legs, they were tense and barely felt there. I stumbled and caught myself as he took the syringe away, but my whole being was already numbing, already witnessing an extreme tingling within my muscles, as if my whole body had fallen asleep. I found myself paralyzed on my back.

In horror, I darted my eyes around, seeing the happy trees, the carefree flowers still dancing, ignoring me. The ants went on with their piddling; I could turn my head just enough to see my hand. I wanted to gasp in horror but it came out a strangled sound as I saw my veins had turned a dark, pulsing blue unlike anything I’d ever seen. If I could feel it, my heart would definitely have burst out of my chest, for my ears repeated its thump-thump incessantly.

In a second I heard his sweet voice, calm and assuring. I didn’t see him until he had pushed me back into the pillow of purple deceiving flowers—for somehow I had rolled to my side—and he was beside me. A little feeling came back into my system and I started an attempt to thrash hysterically, but was paralyzed again when his hand came swiftly to my chin, pinning my head back to the ground. It took me a moment to realize he’d been repeating himself:

You will try to struggle and flee, but you must remain here until you are able-bodied. His hand pushed my chin up higher, securing me more easily. I am able-bodied, I’d like to scream at him.

Everything will be okay, he said. Charlotte.…

I couldn’t focus or think now. I felt immersed and lost between a sea of dark uncertainty and fear, and this bright spring world watched me writhe in its grass helplessly. I could feel my legs twitching a bit, and I couldn’t stop wondering what this horrid drug was.

Was I supposed to have lost consciousness by now? Will I ever get back? Who is he? I didn’t even know his name.

My veins were still a dark blue, and that only made me panic more, until I was twitching profusely, gasping for breath, wanting to run. I could barely hear him over my heartbeat. He sounded panicked himself, but his face was stoic.

Calm down. Calm. Steady your breathing. Believe, Charlotte, believe in a new form, just for the moment. He put his other hand to my cheek. Just for a moment. What have you always wanted to be? It will free you from this paralysis.

Quickly, I thought of a cat, a simple creature like the one I had when I was small. Soon a stark wave of heat coursed through me. I rolled to my stomach frantically, putting out a hand to grip something I couldn’t feel or see, for I’d shut out the world to focus on my pain. It ebbed away slowly to the rhythm of his Shhh’s and I gasped and choked until all feeling came back, and all that was left was a numb tiredness.

He was next to my ear in a moment, whispering a sweet phrase unknown to me. I stole a look at the veins in my arm, and the great blue glowed once and then took over my whole being in a flash. When I could see again, it was through new eyes, and a new body. There was soft fur, a new appendage, and threatening weapons at my fingertips. I snapped my eyes closed and open again, afraid, then saw the world the way I was supposed to.

I looked at my hand, normal again, as he took it in his own, smearing the blood. I’d been gripping a briar patch and was just now able to feel it. I felt too weak to flee, too overcome by the experience to do anything but look into his eyes for an answer.

That was a glimpse at what you can do.

CHAPTER 1

But I am victim to her sinister stare.

When I awoke, I was groggy. My mouth tasted like sand and my head was heavy. I lied in a hard bed, shivering, but found no blanket. I was aware of a deep rumbling noise and then speech in the background. The voices were like honey, smooth and reassuring. I found I wanted to listen to them until whatever sickness held me captive disappeared for good. But as soon as I had heard them, I snapped awake, for I was reminded of him.

It hurt to turn my head, but when I did, I was welcomed by the sound of my joints popping in protest. God, it felt like I hadn’t moved for days. I thought back to my dream with a slow intake of air, remembering the warm sunshine on my face, the flowers rustling in the wind. It was as if I could hear and feel everything together in unison.

My stretching was cut short as I was jostled roughly, followed by some sort of rattling noise, and it was then that I realized the bed was moving. Not only that, but I had no idea where I was. The familiar scents and sights of my bedroom were nowhere to be found. The dream I had the day before—if it had been just a day—came back like a punch in the face. I checked my hands frantically; I checked if I had a tail or claws or whiskers.

I got up as quickly as I could to try and see out a small window covered by a thin shade, but when I stood, the room became fuzzy. I stumbled and hit my head against something hard and my legs buckled beneath me. A scratchy curse came out of my dry mouth and then the door flew open.

Charlotte.

I was startled, for I couldn’t see who it was through my foggy vision, though I knew the voice. I was in his arms in a moment—and immediately didn’t want to be.

Where the hell am I? I demanded, too tired and dizzy to move. Who are you?

I was still in his arms when he sat on the bed, gathering me tightly. That’s not important. I’ll explain everything later. He pushed a rag to my head for the wound, closing my hand around it.

Are you going to hurt me? I was still shivering, but his warmth was flooding into me.

He gently put a finger over my mouth after laying me back on the bed, retrieving a blanket from the floor and covering me. Never, he responded.

Do you want money?

He gave me a quizzical look, and then shook his head. We’re on a train, he said, looking away, surveying the room with quick eyes.

Why? To where? Who are—?

Be quiet. His eyes burned hotly and I silenced quickly, though still confused. We’re going to pick up a friend of mine. I can’t protect you alone and—

Protect me? God my throat hurt.

He stared at me until I felt uncomfortable. He’d been pacing the small room, but now he came slowly over, sitting on the side of my bed. You remember when I first saw you?

I nodded slowly, unsure.

Tell me about it.

I sat up slowly, resting against the small pillow, holding the rag to the gash tightly. I dunno, I—

Yes you do, he said quickly, holding an intense stare. You wrote about it, I know you did.

My face burned hotly. How did you—?

He took my hands, almost snatching them. The rag fell unceremoniously to the floor. "Charlotte. No more questions. Tell me."

I looked at his hands, remembering how different they’d looked in the meadow—or rather, in my dream. It had been a dream, hadn’t it? It was a Wednesday....

Go on, he urged.

I was in the hallway on the way to class, and I turned and saw you behind me and we locked eyes, but then you weren’t there when I looked again. I’d never seen you before, never heard of you. I still don’t know your name.... I looked away, then back at him. And the next thing I knew I was skipping class with you and going to the meadow—

Did you think I was real, that moment in the hallway?

I furrowed my brow. Well—yes. I—

Even if you’d never seen me before? His voice softened, urging me to answer.

Yes. I thought you were a new student or—

Earlier in the hallway, when we skipped class together to go to the meadow, did you feel anything towards me?

I scoffed. I don’t think that’s important—

Charlotte! he barked. He clenched his fist against the bed and scrunched up his face, as if he were attempting to calm himself. In a softer voice a moment later, he said, We don’t have much time to talk.

My face burned and I answered his question: Yes, I did.

Why didn’t you treat me like the rest of your suitors?

"You weren’t exactly a suitor. We didn’t—don’t know each other. I pulled away from him, gathering the blanket, but he eyed me so I added, Because you were special."

So does this mean you’ll trust me?

If you tell me what’s going on.

You need to tell me you trust me. He stood.

Why?

So we can get moving. He was back to pacing again, looking out the windows from time to time, then back to me. I noticed he had changed into dark, heavy clothing. Faded combat boots complemented the gun holstered underneath his jacket.

Where?! My strength was starting to come back and I felt furious. Tell me what’s going on. Why am I on this damn train wi-with you? I want answers!

He turned on me, the zippers on his jacket rattling violently. Or you’ll do what about it?

I’d had enough and I slapped my hands down on the bed. This can’t be happening! You can’t be doing this! It’s kidnapping! It’s extortion! It’s—

"Oh would you shut up? He stole a look out of the train window as the whole compartment came to a screeching halt. It threw me forward onto the floor and I scrambled to right myself, but he grabbed my arm before I could find my footing and guided me back to the bed. We don’t have any time, he said, returning the rag to my hand. We need to go."

He started to snatch up all the loose belongings around the train car, shoving them into a duffle bag. I recognized a change of clothes from my car that I had neglected to bring home. They were left over from a night at my friend’s house.

You broke into my car?! I was appalled, and my head still hurt. The rag was sopping in my hand.

The boy moved his copper hair, which had slipped into his eyes, violently past his brow, and snarled, Can you stand? I could hear many people talking now, outside, a commotion that seemed to make my captor quite nervous.

When I shook my head, he threw the bag on his back and snatched me into his arms to rush out of the compartment. He bid me to hold the bloodied rag to my head and look severely in pain.

I took everything in as we ran by. The train was large and plush. The hallways were narrow in between compartments and many people—groups of businessmen who looked at us oddly and couples who were lost in each other’s eyes—were piled together as they attempted to exit the train. And, of course, there was the strange, handsome boy barreling through the train screaming, Get out of the way, this is an emergency! as I looked as miserable as I felt, whisked away to an unknown location. I had to admire his cunning though, for the bystanders he roughly pushed out of the way were truly convinced I was moments from death.

The train station bustled with people, young and old, as we stumbled out into the open. The people held suitcases tightly, gripping the handles as if part of their life would be left behind if they didn’t. But some didn’t seem to have a care in the world. I didn’t notice where we were, for I was feeling dizzy again. We dashed by everything in a moment, and I shut my eyes as I was jostled around, hoping it would add to the illusion this boy was trying to hold. I still wish I knew his name.

Just a little farther, he murmured. He’d slowed to a more comfortable gait now that he’d gotten through the throng of people, but his heavy shoes still sounded quick on the station floor. We exited the station through a back door and into bright sunlight that made me squint. I buried my face in his shirt like a small child, feeling as awful as I pleased. If he didn’t intend to hurt me—or take my money—whatever was going on spurred a tinge of excitement in me. Like a break in the clouds, this seemed to be just the thing to shatter the monotony of my life.

I thought of what he’d said about changing forms, and then of the affection we’d shared in the meadow. That place—that day—seemed like a faraway dream. I still wondered if he felt the same, or if it was all a show. Or if it had been real at all.

After descending a flight of concrete stairs into the parking lot, he stopped, dropping my legs to the ground and leaving me to regain my footing clumsily.

Can you walk now? he huffed.

I nodded feebly, closing my arms around myself. Where were we supposed to go now? In an answer to my question, he adjusted the duffle bag on