Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4)

by Felisha Antonette

  I Will Remember You

  I hit the clicker to unlock Nathan’s car, tug open the door, and settle in the driver’s seat. Since Little Nathan and Laine took my car, I’ve spent a lot of time in it today. Maybe it was the distraction of having Jason with me, but it didn’t hit me until now that it’s been years since I sat in it. Thinking about us cricks my neck.

  It smells like him, as though his aura lives in the interior. Would it be too much to ask for his scent to have died with him? Including the one on me? Maybe that’s too harsh. For me to believe he should be at rest, but every time I breathe I want to cuss and scream at him for being gone. For doing nothing. He could’ve fought back! Why didn’t he fight back? He could’ve eliminated all of them. Without even looking, he could’ve saved himself. There had to be a sign he should’ve seen, some kind of impression on Olar when he brought him there to die. I hate him for not fighting back. “Dammit, Nathan!” I scream, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. “Why, dammit? Just . . . why . . . ?”

  Grunting, I throw myself back on the seat and stay pressed there, waiting for the ache to pass. As it subsides, I turn the ignition and the country song that played the first time we took the ride in his truck to the docks flows through the speakers.

  If the sunshine never saw your face,

  And the moonlight never cried,

  Would I have you to restore my faith?

  Could you be my lullaby?

  If I told you that I’ll hold your hand,

  And you told me you’d caress my skin,

  Could the moonlight break between our hearts?

  Would the sunlight spare this part?

  I wanna love you when I can’t love you,

  I wanna hold you when the world says no,

  I wanna love you when I can’t love you,

  I wanna love you when my heart says so.

  The lyrics whisk me through times in the past where I was so unsure but yet so positive about being with a total stranger that I knew it wouldn’t make sense to most of the world. But I dived in head first, and if I had the chance to do it again, I would. There’d be some things I’d change, like bonding so soon and getting a fuller understanding of mating. Things within me just moved so fast, emotions and nerves were so demanding it took over thoughts and actions, and I couldn’t consider what I know now. But dammit, if someone offers me a second chance, boy wouldn’t I jump at it. Just to have him . . . I want him back so badly.

  Mating is one hundred percent uncontrollable, it’s fate. Although it can happen unbeknownst to one party, I imagine for the party who knows they’re mated, it must be hell to live without that other person. A lifelong pull to one person and never enjoying the full of love or life. Much like when someone’s mate dies. My body’s still craving for Nathan, willing to give up all logic to be with him.

  Bonding, while controllable, is very hard to avoid. Every nerve of the body, for me anyway, aches and even desires a single person in every way possible. The physical is the most powerful; to link to one’s mate and explore realms of one another in a way humans could never experience. Mentally, it’s exhausting; being too far united with one another, but the connection is so powerful it links the mates even if they’re in two different countries. I believe I got the short end of the stick. Being human and mated to a Burdened Sephlem is the ultimate worst. My body was introduced to so many sensations and powers and emotions at one time, and the only way I knew how to handle them was to give in to them completely. I poured it all on Nathan, and every time we kissed and made love, he accepted it as if it were nothing but empty feelings, when, really, it filled him up too, so much so, his beast was becoming more powerful, which resulted in frequent feedings just to keep it at ease.

  And then there’s being made. A level I’ll not get to experience, but I wish it were in my future. It’s the beauty of it, so I hear. Natalia said that it’s the final step, when things settle down and though your mate and you are still as one, the effects of the bonding depletes and you live in the moment. It sounded great. To not crave another being, or require him, but to just exist with him. I wanted to just exist with Nathan.

  The song fades, replaced by a mattress commercial. I turn down the radio and unbuckle my seatbelt, searching urgency depleted. I grab the door handle to get out and a loud caw draws my attention to an American crow perched on the hood of the car. Draped in charcoal black feathers with a beak to match, its silk-like wings spread and it caws again with more aggression than the first.

  I jump a little and hit the windshield wipers, hoping to scare it away.

  It caws twice more and flaps its wings, thrusting a gust of dusty wind at the windshield before taking off in flight.

  Leaning forward, I look beyond the corner of the garage for the direction it flew, but it’s too fast to track. “That’s weird,” I mutter, leaning back against the seat, scraping my nails over my arm. It’s reddening, vines shaking. That damn misty stuff has them freaking out. Hell, I’m freaking out! I don’t know if I hallucinated the whole thing, but it draws on my discomfort.

  Cawing as it lands, the crow perches on the hood of the car and stares at me.

  Wide-eyed and anxious, I ask, “What?”

  As if it understands, it caws again and looks away from me, toward the street. When it turns back, our eyes meet, and I gasp, taken aback by the darkness in its gaze, the awareness in its bore, the sparseness in its stare. Eyes so dark, they’re filled with so much life. They reflect my own and a shiver climbs up my spine.

  Another caw screeches through my ears and snaps me out of the trance. The crow takes off and another huge gust of wind explodes in the wake of its departure.

  “Um. . . Okay. . .” I’ve done worse things. I mean, following a crow is a little far-fetched, but how much worse can it get?

  I Found

  I ease on the brakes when I come to a covered bridge that’s sat over a dark, rushing river. Night’s sunk around me and the time’s nearing ten. Hitting the brights, I observe the town-like village beyond the bridge and consider shifting the car in reverse. Gas burning lanterns dimly light the streets, while others brighten porches of homes made up of mud and large wood logs. Areas around the small town hide in darkness and my imagination runs away from me with what’s hiding out there.

  The crow turns around from flying through the tunnel. It perches on the hood of the car and looks toward the dark entrance. Observing what I can of the small town, I mutter, “What time warp have you brought me through?” The town looks like something straight out of the eighteen hundreds.

  Even in the darkness, when the crow’s and my eyes meet, they tell a timeless story of a bird that’s falling through the sky. It’s midday. The sun is so hot it’s burning the feathers on its belly. Though its wings look well enough to fly, it doesn’t. It falls, wings splayed, seeming accepting of its fate. Maybe hopeful for it. But, just before it hits the ground, it’s snatched out of the sky, saved by something the crow doesn’t reveal.

  Despite my gut telling me not to go, I ease off the brakes and the car slowly rolls over the bridge. It’s a blind trust the crow is hinting to me, and something in me is forcing me to see this through.

  The crow lands on the roof of a small cottage. Through tall grass, I drive to the space in front of the home and retract my seatbelt. The earth is strong, as though nothing but rain maintained the area. Ivy climbs the walls of the cottage, this one built with brick instead of logs like neighboring houses. Moss has drowned the roof, and branches of a tall tree growing beside the home cascades onto the house like a waterfall.

  Tallgrass brushes the car door as I push it open. Closing it, after a struggle to keep the grass from getting stuck, I don’t let it sound. The air’s cold but warmer than it has been. I can’t wait for spring to bring back the life in the flowers I planted around the house. One’s like these. I squat down near a tree and smell the array of sweet alyssums.

  On the roof, the crow watches me. I trudge through the thick grass an
d then climb the three moss-covered steps of the porch to reach the front door.

  Footsteps approach the door before I can knock. “Who’s there,” an older voice asks.

  I stay silent, unsure of what to say or how to explain my intrusion. “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to. . .” I snap my mouth closed. She’ll know I’m lying. No one has ever traveled out here.

  The door whips open and an older woman acclaims, “Love?”

  “I’m sorry?” I say, taking a step back.

  Waist length gray hair and wrinkled caramel skin draws my attention to the woman’s older age. She slaps around her long, wooden cane that’s dressed in vines made up of mercury; they start at the cane’s bottom, a silver cylinder encasing a heart like the one from the hourglass are where the vines grow from and right up to the metal handle clutched tightly in her hand. “Love . . .” Bright gray, marble-like eyes look in my direction. She waves me forward, but I don’t move.

  “Ma’am, honestly, I don’t mean to disturb you. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.” I don’t know why I was in a rush to leave my home, or why the hell I’m following crows to the weeping willow lodges.

  Putting her weight on her cane, she hunches over and extends her hand. “It doesn’t matter what, not even how, but why.”

  “I don’t know that either. I just followed a bird. It wasn’t my intention to bother anyone.” Something taps my ankle, and I excuse myself. “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll be on my way.” I turn to head back to the car.

  Behind me, she whispers, “She who is of love, yet can bear a wicked heart to accept the beast of oppression. And he, the one who is oppressed, yet can bear a heart of love—her love—to accept the wicked soul. You, love, have stumbled upon my doorstep by no mistake, even if death brought you here.” Turning on my heels, I face her. She nods and waves me forward again, offering, “Tea?”

  “I don’t like tea. But if you have a glass of cold water . . .”

  Frankincense fills my nose when I step into her small home. It relaxes the tension in my shoulders and calms my uneasiness as I follow behind her. The walls are of the same oak wood that makes up the floor, and the ceiling has pothos plants that drape across it from corner to corner.

  “Watch your step there.”

  I grab the nearest door frame to catch my fall, tripping over a pillow placed on the floor.

  “Sit there.”

  I look around myself, taking notice of three pillows sat around a floor level table. Sitting, I mutter, “I could’ve sworn you were blind.”

  “And I am,” she calls from the kitchen, the next room over. “But, that doesn’t mean that I’m not aware. You should take note.”

  Solid burn, blind lady. . . Atop the center of the table sits a clear crystal ball. There’s nothing holding it in place, and even as I press the tip of my index finger against it, it doesn’t budge. “Hey, what’s up with your ball? Did you superglue it to the table?” I ask as she’s setting down a mug in front of me.

  She takes the spot across from me and sips from her cup before saying, “It is just a ball.”

  The silence that falls over us is annoying. I clutch and release my mug, gaze darting around the room. “I, um,” I finally utter, shaking my head. Shrugging and pushing my fingers against my temple, I add, “I should be on my way.” Whatever had me rushing from the house, hunting for something, has passed and now, “I’m just confused,” I finish my thought aloud.

  “And,” she carries, “you may be even more confused by the time this is over.” Placing her cup upside down on the table, she meets my eyes. “You fascinate me, Love. You’ve yet to ask who I am. Aren’t you curious about who you’ve stumbled upon and why?”

  Clasping my hands in front of me, I rub my fingers over my scabby knuckles. “I assume I have to start this conversation, huh?” She nods, and I ask, “Who are you, and why is it so important we become acquainted?”

  “Name, I am. My sparrow led you here because you must’ve needed inclusion. You’re blind, dear girl, but think you see it all. Your eyes there.” She gestures toward me. “They are filled with a darkness that is as a shield of protection, not to see. You can possess every layer of your vision without shadowing your eyes. And, no matter how wide you spread your eyes, you will always see nothing.”

  I rub my thumbs against my eyes and mutter, “Actually, I wish my eyes were normal and everything I saw was actually what I see.”

  “Dear girl, if you didn’t want to change, you shouldn’t have mated The Great Nathan.”

  “Great Nathan,” I scoff. He’d hate that.

  “Nothing happens by mistake. All prophecies come to pass, all fates will play, all that is will be. It’s time you face that sour truth and stop ignoring what already exists. Your point in this life, though it may be to live, it’s also to be mated to an unstoppable monster wanted by one of the most powerful creatures known to man, and then to die. A sacrifice to him.

  “Nathan and yourself were only meant to be together under specific circumstances. Those in place if one thing happened over another. Humans are interesting creatures, small-minded. They fail to take into account how their decision made today will affect their future.” She takes a pause and swipes her finger across her nose. “I can tell by the blank look on your face, you still don’t understand. So, I will break it down for you, girl.” She turns over her mug and it refills with piping hot tea without it leaving the table. “Every word I speak may be hard for you to grasp, so I request your undivided attention. You’ll wonder how I know what I know, why I know these things, and how there are things you don’t know though you’re living the life.”

  Shaking my head, I assure, “No. I won’t wonder about any of that. Ever since I mated, and he heard my thoughts, to wonder left my interest. Everything is as it is for a reason and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Mmm.” She taps her fingers against the table, and the double thumps are loud in my ears. “He who is Burdened by more than just his inner beast, yet, can accept—can take on the heart of a woman who an injurious prophecy refers to as Love, and this same woman can accept a wicked soul, that of the man who’s oppressed.” She takes a pause. “Death is for her. The love is for him. Unfortunately, you, Love, are she and your mate is he. By mistake? Maybe. He may not have known what would come of mating with you.”

  I sit forward, crossing my arms on top of the table. “So that hourglass was talking about us?”

  “Answers lie within acceptance, acceptance in truth, and truth in you. It was the verbal bond placed over the Seeing of Death. The identity to find out who this said couple is, is declared by the one who bears the mark of her and he holds the key to the gates of rule, ruin, and amity.”

  “I accept it.”

  “You don’t, girl. Understanding isn’t the hardest part of your journey.” She reaches across the table, and I meet her hand. “With the current circumstances, the current beasts that walk the earth, the current entities who seek to rule . . . You and your mate should not have mated, don’t you see?” she urges. “It shouldn’t have happened. And when you find him, you will ignore his presence, and he will remain dead to you and you to him, or this will become the ruin.”

  My mouth dries, and I find it hard to swallow. “When I find him?” There’s a heavy beat to my heart, a hopeful one.

  “Knowing is the key and what will save you two, what will save our world.”

  I frown and release a dismissive snort. “I don’t care about the world. You’re telling me you think my mate is alive?”

  “No. I know. He was ripped from you to prevent, Love. And you must let the prevention of death exist.”

  My fist slams down on the table without making a sound. “That’s not enough for me to turn my back on my mate. How is he alive? I watched him die, they murdered him!”

  “You can’t always believe what you see, Love.”

  Growing frustrated I snap, “
My name is Tracey. Not Love! I’m not a part of some prophecy, I’m just a girl who fell in love with a beast. A Burdened Sephlem who had a love for his family, a horrible relationship with his dad, and everyone—everyone—wanted him dead.”

  “It never occurred to you why everyone wanted him dead?” she shouts back. “You didn’t care enough about his life to find why he was a target for every being on earth? Silly girl, it’s for this reason exactly!” she yells, pointing her finger against the table. “Your mate can bring the world one of three things, and because no one was sure which of those things he’d bring, you chop him off by the legs!” She slices the air with her hand. “Your best bet is to take him out before he mates and she makes him into something far worse than just a Burdened Sephlem. He mates with love that turns him into death. That is why they want him dead! That is why he was forbidden to mate! That is why he was stripped from you! And if you give an inkling of care for him, you’d stay away, you’d let him remain dead, you would watch from a distance like he was supposed to do if he happened to mate. You would do all of this for him and for you, for our world. Because, if you don’t, something far worse than loss will smother you. Death will come on his white horse with a roaring fire and blazing gun, and he will slaughter you and himself.”

  “The Seeing of Death. . .” I mumble, words shaking as they whisper pass my lips. “But. . .”

  “But you loved him. You love him.” She sips from her teacup. She laughs once. “It’s good you love him. Love couldn’t keep him away, keep him from hurting you, but maybe Love can stay away and keep you two from hurting yourselves.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I told you you’d ask.” The smile wrinkling her cheeks fade. “I was human, long ago. I was mated to a Burdened Sephlem. After we became bound, a distinct mark showed up on the back of his neck. A palm, no fingers. Inside that palm was an odd shaped octagon. In our time, if a marking popped up on a mated Burdened Sephlem that they weren’t born with, they hid them instantly. The Seeing of Death prophecy has been around for ages. After our bonding, I began to see things, the world was made of fire; people, objects, the sky. I saw it in a blazing fire. I saw things in people no one else could. We knew to keep this a secret, if the sight adjusted in a female who was mated to a Burdened Sephlem, you don’t tell a soul. But, secrets only last so long. They came after him and me, and we ran for our lives, a child in my womb and another on his arm. We were fools to bring children into our world, but we craved a family, for normality. We made our way until we couldn’t anymore. At the house of my sister, we hid, but we were found not long after we arrived. They smelled for me as if my scent filled the air like a freshly baked pie. We never had a chance. The monsters stripped us of our children, and before my eyes, they decapitated my mate. Right after, they carved out my pupils. He wasn’t Death, nothing close to the beast they claimed him to be or that the prophecy was referring to. Nor was I the sight, but they didn’t care.” She shakes her head, and her gaze falls away from me. “They don’t care.”