The Hunchback Read online

  I burst out laughing, feeling free, feeling happy… feeling like I belonged.

  Losing all inhibitions, I stopped trying to walk straighter. No one questioned my stooped posture as I, too, went from table to table to sample the food offering. Even though the amuse-bouche were the same as the assortment Frollo had brought me, food had never tasted so divine than in that instant.

  Overwhelmed by this emotional and sensory overload, I didn’t see time fly. The blaring trumpets snapped me out of my unbridled revelry. A hush fell over the crowd that suddenly sobered. Like a neatly sliced ripe fruit, the people parted with almost military discipline on each side of the plaza. The main doors of the temple opened on Esmeralda in the lead, followed by ten Light Maidens, paired in twos.

  It shocked me to realize how far I’d gotten from the temple, carried away by the celebrating crowd. But that didn’t matter. The breathtaking sight of the Anointed Vestal had everyone entranced. Dressed in a shimmering neck wrap crop top, embroidered with glow pearls, and a short sarong skirt in a similar pale fabric, Esmeralda seemed to glide rather than walk as she approached the plaza.

  The glass dome covering the Well of Power parted. The five rings of the Well, each of them flat, indicated the five main peripheral cities of Paris, which supplied energy for the sprawling suburbs surrounding them. In the center of the Well, a spire-like tower rose barely a meter above ground. That sight further sobered the crowd. The energy reserves had never been so low. The ancient glyphs on both the tower and the rings pulsated in an alarmingly weak fashion.

  Esmeralda stopped in front of the well—although not stepping onto it—and faced the table of honor. The Light Maidens formed a line on each side of her, all facing the dais as well. But they weren’t looking at Frollo or the dignitaries who had all risen to their feet. Heads tilted upwards, they gazed upon the majestic Elohim flying down from their floating city, Elysium. There was something hypnotic to the rhythmic way the wide span of their wings flapped around them. The setting sun reflecting just the right way on their gleaming armor further enhanced that impression by giving them an almost angelic halo.

  The crowd all but held its breath as twenty of the giant winged warriors settled on the perches erected around the plaza for them, the sound of their wings ominous. Only the three Seraphs landed by the dais: High Seraph Phoebus, and the two generals of his legions, Arrius and Magnus. Unlike the white-winged Elohim perched around the plaza—Angels, Archangels and Dominions—the three Seraphs had a double set of black wings with white spotted down feathers on the top set around their shoulders. It could have almost passed for a king’s ermine fur.

  Even from where we stood, their aura could be felt, drawing you in like the most irresistible addiction, and instilling fear of the harm extended exposure would cause to the common human. Despite their obvious urge to come closer, the people of Paris moved farther back from the Well and the divine guests surrounding it.

  Once more, a pang of envy coursed through me at the perfection of the Elohim. Over seven feet tall, with heavenly faces and glowing eyes, their godly, muscular bodies were bare but for the adorned leather skirts and gladiator sandals they wore. However, while the audience—especially the females—couldn’t tear their gazes away from them, the Elohim only had eyes for one woman—MY woman.

  A burning jealousy rose from the darkest depths of me when Phoebus placed his palm over his heart and bowed his head at Esmeralda with a seductive smile. The glyph on the armband adorning his wrist flashed, something I’d never seen in all the past years when he’d greeted the Vestal serving at the time. My Mera placed both hands over her own heart and bowed her head, imitated seconds later by the Light Maidens.

  As soon as the women straightened, Frollo approached the Elohim leader and his generals.

  “Welcome to Paris, High Seraph Phoebus, and honorable Generals Arrius and Magnus. You honor us with your presence.”

  Despite the distance, my enhanced eyesight and hearing allowed me to see and hear all that the rest of the people in attendance could only speculate about.

  “The honor is all ours, Praetor,” Phoebus said with his thundering voice, although his gaze never strayed from Esmeralda. “We wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to meet an Anointed.”

  I didn’t miss Frollo slightly clenching his jaw in displeasure, a sentiment I shared all too well. What male could rival a Seraph? Esmeralda was an Anointed, born to walk at the side of a god. What chance could a deformed creature such as I possibly stand against so many better males?

  “I am certain she will be just as delighted to make your acquaintance after the ceremony,” Frollo responded with an award-winning performance of cordiality. “If you please,” he added, gesturing to the table of honor.

  Tearing his gaze away from Esmeralda with visible effort, Phoebus finally made eye contact with Frollo. He frowned before giving the Praetor an assessing look.

  “Your power has grown again, and significantly, too, since the last time we’ve met,” Phoebus said in a confused voice. “Your Light is verging the divine. It calls to me like that of a brother. And yet, I know of no Vestals in your bloodline.”

  Frollo puffed his chest, failing miserably to hide his pride. “You flatter me, High Seraph. But I must admit that Esmeralda has awakened within me things I didn’t know existed. Having her by my side has enhanced me in ways I never imagined possible.”

  As much as I wanted to punch him in the throat for his obvious innuendos, it hurt me that she would impact the Praetor the same way she had me. It was stupid but, for some silly reason, I’d convinced myself that a special bond that existed only between the two of us had enhanced Esmeralda’s powers and awakened the one inside me.

  Phoebus narrowed his gaze at Frollo, having clearly understood the underlying message. “You shouldn’t be so surprised,” the Seraph said dismissively. “Anointed Vestals are born to be the consorts of the gods. If they can enhance us, they would obviously affect common men.”

  That, too, struck a nerve. Under different circumstances, I would have been amused to see Frollo so righteously put back in his place. But the High Seraph’s words rang with an undeniable truth that applied even more so to me.

  Without waiting for Frollo’s response, Phoebus marched to the central chair at the table of honor. Following in silence, the Praetor settled at his right, and the Seraph generals took a seat on either side of them. After bowing to the Seraphs, the five dignitaries of each of the main peripheral cities walked down the dais carrying with reverence a highly ornate round container the size of a giant pumpkin. In turn, they each stopped in front of Esmeralda before opening the container.

  It revealed the Relay Orb of their respective cities. My woman held her palms on the side of the Orb without touching it and pushed her power inside it, causing a brief, stabbing pain at the base of my hump. The Orb immediately lit up and began to hover with a soft hum above the open container in the dignitary’s hands. Two Light Maidens, one on each side of Esmeralda, approached and placed a hand on the side of the Orb, once more without touching it. Then, moving in coordinated steps, the Maidens went to take position at one of the five ‘corners’ of the Well with their Orb.

  As each of the four remaining dignitaries repeated the process, the stabbing pain of Esmeralda activating their Orbs reminded me of my precarious situation. Soon she would begin her Chant to Vesta, and then her dance to invoke lightning and the power of her Divine Light to charge the Well and the Orbs. I had brought earplugs to block out her Chant, figuring the first half of her dance wouldn’t harm me. But I hadn’t expected her power to manifest so soon with such strength.

  Trying to weave my way through the tightly packed crowd, panic began to settle in the pit of my stomach at my frighteningly slow progress. People were glaring at me, pushing back, annoyed at me interrupting their enjoyment of this sacred proceeding. They didn’t understand where I was headed, and why I would even want to leave.

  Despite the earplugs, the first crystalline note
that rose from Esmeralda’s throat pierced right through me down to my very core. Pleasure and pain flooded through my body as a blissful ball of power burst within me. As the Vestal’s Chant continued to rise, the Light Maidens joined their voices to hers, and the magical link which brought me both ecstasy and misery formed between my woman and me.

  I swallowed down a pained cry, becoming more forceful in my attempts to break through the crowd. They pushed back with increasing violence, angered that I would ruin the trance in which the Chant was putting them under. Esmeralda’s ergokinetic aura exploded in a magnetic wave that had the assembled citizens gasp as one voice. The same awed and disbelieving looks marked every visage in the writhing mass of nameless men and women standing between me and my refuge as lightning struck the tower of the Well, and the first ring lit up.

  But for me, it was a roar of agony that escaped my lips as the surge of power made me feel as if my spine was torn right out of my back. The crowd, finally understanding something was seriously amiss, began to part before me. I stumbled ahead half-blind by the swelling of my eyes and face. The mask on my head now felt too tight, squeezing my throbbing face from all sides.

  As another mesmerized cry rose from the sea of humans in which I drowned, my knees buckled at the torment tearing me asunder. Grunting and moaning, I half-crawled towards a destination now beyond my strength to reach.

  The beating of drums announced the beginning of Esmeralda’s dance. How I had wished to see it. How I had wished to be normal, once… just once. And now, I would die, a few meters from my beloved because I had been too bold, too reckless… Because I’d lusted after the consort of the gods.

  Chapter 10

  Esmeralda

  The very heart of Vesta beat through my chest as incommensurable power flowed through me. I was the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, the embodiment of Divine Light made flesh. I didn’t need to see Kwazeem in the crowd to know this insane surge of power stemmed from him. He was both in and around me, lifting me to unparalleled heights.

  The power of the Seraphs swirled around me, enhancing me further. They were battling each other for dominance, to claim me as their own. Phoebus’s presence alone crushed any would-be competitor. And yet, his valiant efforts to form a link between us crashed repeatedly against the formidable bond that already existed between Kwazeem and me. But even the High Seraph’s divine aura failed to rival how my Light responded to my Fallen. Whatever doubt might have lingered in my mind that Kwazeem and I were the two halves of the same whole vanished in that instant.

  Lightning coursed through my body. Its sizzling coils spiraled around my bare arms and legs, and sparked at my fingertips. I acted as a conduit, absorbing the energy from the air, the elements, the ebullient crowd, and the divine aura of the Elohim, before transferring it into the Well. It greedily took all that I offered, its rings lighting up at dizzying speed. Even the Orbs hovering about the Maidens’ hands crackled with energy.

  Just as my power was reaching its apogee, a horrendous tearing pain sliced through my chest and my bond with Kwazeem was severed. I cried out, and lightning struck me dead center in the chest, at the same place the pain had originated. Arms wide spread, head thrown back, my body froze halfway through the swirl I’d been performing. Electric tendrils shot out from my hands, each beam connecting to the closest hovering Relay Orb on either side of me, then moving to the next until the Orbs and I were connected with a single continuous beam. The tower in the center of the Well grew taller by a couple of meters before shooting out a blinding ray of light into the early night sky.

  The people roared their approval, a celebratory chant rising through their ranks.

  The beam shooting out of my hands stopped abruptly, and I collapsed to my knees, head bowed and palms flat on the glowing surface of the Well. Although the sharp pain in my chest had faded, a hollowness persisted where my link with Kwazeem had connected us. Despite the loud ruckus of the overexcited citizens, the strong flapping sound of large wings reached me moments before the muscular arms of High Seraph Phoebus closed around me.

  His aura slamming into me felt like a shot of adrenaline. With my connection to Kwazeem severed, Phoebus’s Light poured into me with the violence of a river racing through a broken dam. A part of me hungered to embrace its purity and let myself become infused with his divinity. But Kwazeem’s face flashed before my eyes, and I closed myself to the High Seraph, feeling as if basking in his aura would be like cheating on the one who had captured my heart.

  Phoebus lifted me up, cradling me in his arms, a slight frown marring his angelic face. He once more attempted to pour his Light in to me, but I gently repelled it. It was unnecessary as his aura had already restored me from that moment of weakness.

  “I’ve got you,” Phoebus said, holding me like a bride.

  I was opening my mouth to say he could put me down, when I noticed Frollo, looking furious, gesturing at his personal guards to go take care of something. Following the direction of his signal, I realized some sort of commotion was happening amidst the audience a couple of hundred meters from the temple.

  “What’s going on?” Phoebus asked Frollo.

  Before he even answered, my stomach dropped to my feet, instinctively guessing what was coming next.

  “Nothing important,” Frollo said through clenched teeth. “Just one of my staff abusing my kindness. My guards will handle it. But please, do not let this distract us from this historical performance by our Anointed,” he added with a forced smile, gesturing for us to head towards the table of honor.

  “I… I can stand,” I said to Phoebus, my palm tingling from the divine aura seeping into my palm resting on his bare chest.

  “Are you certain?” Phoebus asked, making no mystery of his reluctance.

  My face heated as I nodded timidly. “Yes, thank you. Your aura has done wonders for me.”

  He grunted his assent and, taking his sweet time, the High Seraph put me down, although his hand remained on my hip. Frollo’s eyes flicked down to look at the possessive way Phoebus held me, and his expression further darkened. While the Praetor’s feeling about it left me indifferent, I didn’t want to send the wrong signal to the Seraph.

  Advancing nonchalantly by a couple of steps, I ‘accidentally’ moved out of his grasp and then raised a hand to wave at the crowd that cheered me and the Maidens. This should have been a moment of complete triumph, but my gaze remained glued to the guards quickly approaching the location where a cluster of people had parted, forming a small circle around whatever—whoever—had caused that commotion.

  I barely noticed the five dignitaries reclaiming their fully charged Relay Orbs from the Maidens. The guards, each hooking one arm under one of Kwazeem’s, dragged him to the temple’s garden entrance under the mocking jeers of the crowd who no doubt assumed he’d overindulged in alcohol. Knowing how proud he was, that his body remained limp made me fear the worst. Guilt gnawed at me for having incited him to leave the safety of the temple’s grounds by giving him that costume. But I hated that he was essentially caged, wasting away at the edge of life, isolated and deprived of the most basic companionship, aside from his imps.

  Phoebus’s burning hand on the bare skin of the small of my back snapped me out of my troubled musings. With a last bow to the crowd still cheering us on, I let the High Seraph guide me to the table of honor. Sitting between Phoebus and Frollo, I spent the next couple of hours putting up with both of their shameless efforts at courting me. Each of the other Elohim flying down from their perches to introduce themselves to me and gauge my potential interest in them gave me a semblance of reprieve. To think I had spent years dreaming of the day I would be honored to receive the undivided attention of an Elohim.

  But a single thought overwhelmed me: how was Kwazeem?

  An orgy of food continued to be served to us in endless waves under the glowing light of the Well. I picked at my plate, half-listening to my companions and giving one or two-word answers to the questions th
at actually registered in my distracted mind. Frollo relentlessly attempted to entice me into joining him on the tour of the peripheral cities for the Relay Orb ceremonies by hyping their beauty. In direct contrast, Phoebus seemed to gracefully concede defeat. Although he, too, praised the virtues of life on Elysium, it was factual and anecdotal, the same way a charismatic tour guide delivered his speech. I genuinely liked the High Seraph. If not for Kwazeem, he could have easily swept me off my feet.

  As the feast slowly neared its end, the rings of the Well of Power receded back into the ground, and the reinforced glass cover closed over it. Only the narrow tower at its center and its beam of light remained erect, the glass cover fitting snugly around it. The tower would gradually lower into the ground as the city’s energy reserves started depleting, signaling the need for a new Festival.

  “You have performed above and beyond all expectations,” Phoebus said, abruptly changing the subject. “I have never met a Vestal as powerful as you, Esmeralda.”

  Blushing, my heart filling with pride, I lowered my gaze demurely. “Thank you, High Seraph. You flatter me.”

  “It is not flattery, merely facts,” Phoebus replied with a shrug. “It has been years since anyone managed to fill the Well completely. You achieved that with a single Chant and a single dance. The only other time such an occurrence has been recorded was over a century ago, when the previous High Seraph Galleus and his Anointed consort, the Vestal Armina, presided over the Festival of Light. His bond to her enhanced her power a thousandfold. I had wished to claim a similar honor tonight, but I couldn’t link with you. So, how did you achieve such godly levels?”

  My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t tell him about Kwazeem doing for me what Galleus had done for his mate.