Castle Dracul

Escaping the Prophecy

“So what if you told everyone you were marrying me?” Scalera Fire-brand demanded, beginning to pace the length of the hall, her shoes rasping on the pavers, her silk skirts hissing with every step. Just feet away from a young man who watched her motions.

It may have been in the bustling heart of San Francisco, but there was no more medieval place in the United States. Cooper, the Doyen of the mystics, and Scalera, the youngest of the Fire-brand clan, were pawns of the future, apparently. He had been the star of a party until a vision gripped him. He saw the future, after leading the ceremonies to unite the far-seers and fore-seers. His ascension to rule had kicked everyone in the teeth, including Cooper.

She walked over his silence continuing to rant, thinking as quickly as possible for a way out of the marriage. “But that’s not a good enough reason to cave. We are in the nicest mansion in Presidio Heights in the twenty first century. I will not be given away like a bit of chattel.”

He said nothing, exhaustion lining his young face, shoulders stooped, feet braced apart.

So Scalera continued to pace over the reflective marble tiles at the bottom of a winding stair. “If you are picking me because of some stupid prophecy I swear you’re an idiot! Too bad you didn’t understand the first time when I walked out on your little party and came home!” Her voice rising from annoyance to screamed rage, kicking her foot on the rough marble stair.

Cooper paled and took a step back. The Fire-brands were just that, hot tempered, red-headed, beautiful, and deadly. The family had not been in favor for the last few centuries, since they had killed the rulers. They lived in socially polite ostracism until this prophecy put them back in the limelight, that didn’t however make them any safer to anger.

“I won’t do it,” She informed him.

“Won’t?” His warm brown eyebrows rose, bringing light to his green eyes. Amusement played across his face, the kind he wore when he spoke with her all summer at the pool. “You say that as if either one of us has a choice.”

“I have a choice,” She insisted, picked up her skirts and left, at the top of the stairs she looked down at him, her chin raised. “I will not marry you Doyan Cooper. I will do everything in my power to avoid it.” With a flounce and the boom of a slammed door she exited.

Cooper hung his head, looking out over the sea cliffs outside the window. The heavy robes of his new office hung on his shoulders, anchoring him to the bottom, away from fresh air. The few steps out onto the deck sucked life from him.

An older gray haired man leaned out toward him. “That went well,” he commented, the sarcasm dripping from his words.

Cooper rubbed a hand over his face without looking over to his new advisor. He supported himself against the railing. “You expected Scalera to be happy with me telling her we are going to be married when I have been snogging her sister for the better part of the summer. There is only so far you can push a Fire-brand and I think we just found her limit.”

“What do you think she will do, Doyen? Nothing to endanger the prophecy I hope.”

Cooper shook his head. “But part of me hopes she makes a move as ballistic as she promised and does something rash enough to allow me to marry where I want. While the other part of me knows that there is no escape a prophecy. Even my own.”

Scalera scoured the words, reading them again as an idea began hatching in her Fire-brand heart.

The end comes in scarlet red.

A people once lost, all partly dead,

Will rise through blood of fire,