Leaves of Fire: Part Two of the Newirth Mythology by Michael B. Koep

Author:Michael B. Koep [Koep, Michael B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780989393546
Publisher: Will Dreamly Arts
Published: 2015-06-03T22:00:00+00:00

The Mirror

June, 1975

Venice, Italy

Helen stared at herself in the mirror. She wore a work of art. It sparkled in the candlelight. The piece was her favorite of Albion’s collection, and it nestled against her cheeks and lips as if it were made for her face alone. Of the many Venetian masquerade masks he possessed, this was by far the oldest. Midsixteenth century, encrusted with tiny rubies around the eyes, plumes of carved deep green leaves rising up at the forehead, and light as a feather, its lines were as sensual as the gliding silk curve from her smooth breasts to the slope of her thigh.

“We wear masks to be equals, Helen,” Albion said. He sat behind, his legs crossed and his gaze absorbed her.

She pivoted back and smiled at him, her fingers feeling the cold gems of the mask beneath her fingertips. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“You are beautiful,” came Albion’s echo.

She loved the feel of the leather against her cheeks. With it on, she was no longer Helen Craven. Her past did not matter, her deadly deeds of late were nothing, and what was to come was as hidden as her identity.

“Equals?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” he said. “The Venetians took to wearing masks to hide their social status. Politicians, the rich, nobility, the clergy and the everyman—the fish monger, the mason and the beggar—all were without identity, without rank and most of all, without culpability. Wearing the mask at Carnival enabled the priest and the miscreant to come together and experience human pleasure without consequence.” He laughed quietly and added, “Well, for the most part.”

Helen felt her abdomen tighten. “So, if you put a mask on, you and I would be equal?”

“If I noticed you at Carnival, and you did not know me, and I did not know you, yes, we would be equal. We would be free to tease and trifle.”

“I think you’re flirting with me now, Albion.”

“That may be so,” Albion agreed. He stood and moved close behind her. She looked at him in the mirror, his eyes glinting from over her shoulder. “You have made me very proud.”

Helen beamed. “I have?”

“You have. You have exceeded my expectations. Of the many Itonalya I have trained through the centuries, you have shown an unrelenting focus—promise, spirit and skill rivaling the most powerful of your immortal family. I am proud—and you should be proud of yourself.”

A bead of tear glistened. She watched it swell and drop, threading itself down into the maze of rubies below her eye. She removed the mask and noted that the expression on her face was filled with gratitude. Albion laid his hand upon her cheek and chin, and grinned.

“There, now,” he said, comfort in his voice. “You’re not used to such compliments. The torture of your youth is a mere blink in time, Helen. I am sorry for the abuse you were made to suffer. But you survived. And it is over now. Look, now, at this woman in the mirror. This is a face gods envy.

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