The Brotherhood of the Snake (Return of the Ancients Book 2) by Carmen Caine, Madison Adler
Authors: Carmen Caine, Madison Adler
Ads: Link
single, notorious Blue Thread.
I stared at it, hovering over Jareth’s head, but I couldn’t look at it for long. I had one of those Blue Threads myself.
The scene shifted, showing Jareth clad in his outrageously shredded black leather shirt and pants, his hair teased and standing out from his head in all directions. He was alone in the middle of the desert with his arms folded tightly across his chest.
The mirror zoomed to focus just on his face, on the hauntingly sad expression in his eyes and on the single tear trailing down his cheek.
That tear gave me pause.
Jareth … crying?
Strangely and in spite of my built up animosity, I experienced an odd twinge of sympathy towards him.
Maybe there was a reason he was insufferable.
“That should be impossible outside the Hall of Mirrors,” Jareth broke in with a hoarse whisper. “No Fate Tracker can call the threads of the past where mirrors weren’t present.”
Rafael didn’t reply. He began pacing in front of his mirror like a caged lion, waving his hands at intervals.
With each flick of his fingers, the Jareth on the mirror grew younger. I watched him change from rock star to student, sitting in some sort of classroom with Rafael. Melody hovered over them pointing to complicated charts with myriads of lines. Then the scene shifted again, showing Jareth as a youth, standing in a row with other dark-haired students, each awaiting their turn to practice some type of Kung Fu.
The years unraveled fast then, showing him progressively younger, still standing in the line and waiting for his turn to demonstrate some fairy-form of martial arts. And then he appeared to be no more than a toddler, still standing at the end of a long line of very young students and watching the older ones practice.
The image went blank.
Rafael tilted his head to the side and murmured, “Curious.”
I frowned a little, wondering what he’d found curious, but before I could ask, the scene of Jareth at the rock concert appeared again, replete with the myriad of fate lines over his head.
Again, a series of images tracked backwards in time, ending just as before.
Again, the rock concert scene appeared on the mirror.
Rafael was plainly searching for something, but with the millions of threads hovering over Jareth’s head, it looked like we’d be here a long time.
My eyes were beginning to burn. Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm me. I was going to have to get some rest before I attempted to do any kind of escaping.
I stumbled wearily to the couch and sat down, watching as Rafael waved his hand tirelessly over the repeating scenes. Until finally the image abruptly froze, and there was a young Jareth waiting in line with the other dark-haired Fae children once again.
“Odd,” Rafael stated, louder this time.
“Calling up the past will serve no purpose.” Jareth said acidly. He scowled deeply. “Even you can’t track every possibility within your lifetime. Just what are you looking for?”
Rafael clasped his hands behind his back, oblivious to Jareth’s black stare and lifted his hand yet again.
My concentration began to lapse as, time after time, Jareth’s life played out over the mirror like a movie.
At some point, my burning eyes closed of their own accord. I don’t know how long it was before I was jolted awake by Rafael’s demands.
“Explain this, Jareth!” A thread of steel ran through his tone. “Why does every line of your fate return to this same scene? Where are your parents? Where is the record of your birth? Why does it always end here?”
Jareth stood with his feet planted widely apart. Everything about him was defiant, from his flaring nostrils to his tightly folded arms. Clearly, he was refusing to participate.
“You didn’t just spontaneously spring into existence!” Rafael stated with a fierce setting of his mouth.
At that, Jareth threw back his head and laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound. “Ah, your arrogance is astounding, your
I stared at it, hovering over Jareth’s head, but I couldn’t look at it for long. I had one of those Blue Threads myself.
The scene shifted, showing Jareth clad in his outrageously shredded black leather shirt and pants, his hair teased and standing out from his head in all directions. He was alone in the middle of the desert with his arms folded tightly across his chest.
The mirror zoomed to focus just on his face, on the hauntingly sad expression in his eyes and on the single tear trailing down his cheek.
That tear gave me pause.
Jareth … crying?
Strangely and in spite of my built up animosity, I experienced an odd twinge of sympathy towards him.
Maybe there was a reason he was insufferable.
“That should be impossible outside the Hall of Mirrors,” Jareth broke in with a hoarse whisper. “No Fate Tracker can call the threads of the past where mirrors weren’t present.”
Rafael didn’t reply. He began pacing in front of his mirror like a caged lion, waving his hands at intervals.
With each flick of his fingers, the Jareth on the mirror grew younger. I watched him change from rock star to student, sitting in some sort of classroom with Rafael. Melody hovered over them pointing to complicated charts with myriads of lines. Then the scene shifted again, showing Jareth as a youth, standing in a row with other dark-haired students, each awaiting their turn to practice some type of Kung Fu.
The years unraveled fast then, showing him progressively younger, still standing in the line and waiting for his turn to demonstrate some fairy-form of martial arts. And then he appeared to be no more than a toddler, still standing at the end of a long line of very young students and watching the older ones practice.
The image went blank.
Rafael tilted his head to the side and murmured, “Curious.”
I frowned a little, wondering what he’d found curious, but before I could ask, the scene of Jareth at the rock concert appeared again, replete with the myriad of fate lines over his head.
Again, a series of images tracked backwards in time, ending just as before.
Again, the rock concert scene appeared on the mirror.
Rafael was plainly searching for something, but with the millions of threads hovering over Jareth’s head, it looked like we’d be here a long time.
My eyes were beginning to burn. Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm me. I was going to have to get some rest before I attempted to do any kind of escaping.
I stumbled wearily to the couch and sat down, watching as Rafael waved his hand tirelessly over the repeating scenes. Until finally the image abruptly froze, and there was a young Jareth waiting in line with the other dark-haired Fae children once again.
“Odd,” Rafael stated, louder this time.
“Calling up the past will serve no purpose.” Jareth said acidly. He scowled deeply. “Even you can’t track every possibility within your lifetime. Just what are you looking for?”
Rafael clasped his hands behind his back, oblivious to Jareth’s black stare and lifted his hand yet again.
My concentration began to lapse as, time after time, Jareth’s life played out over the mirror like a movie.
At some point, my burning eyes closed of their own accord. I don’t know how long it was before I was jolted awake by Rafael’s demands.
“Explain this, Jareth!” A thread of steel ran through his tone. “Why does every line of your fate return to this same scene? Where are your parents? Where is the record of your birth? Why does it always end here?”
Jareth stood with his feet planted widely apart. Everything about him was defiant, from his flaring nostrils to his tightly folded arms. Clearly, he was refusing to participate.
“You didn’t just spontaneously spring into existence!” Rafael stated with a fierce setting of his mouth.
At that, Jareth threw back his head and laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound. “Ah, your arrogance is astounding, your
Similar Books
