by Eden Briar
“Who else?”
“No, this isn’t what I do.”
Zac screams something unintelligible and filled with fear.
“He’s living through a waking nightmare right now. That’s your specialty.”
“My clairvoyancy has got nothing to do with whatever’s going on in Zac’s head.”
“Just try, Ben. Please. It’s hurting him.”
I know Ben is scared, but I need him to step up to the plate. I need him to be brave.
“Ben,” Jazz presses gently. “He’d do the same for you.”
It’s an oddly sincere statement coming from the guy who couldn’t stand Zac only a few hours ago, but they’ve taken on a runic knot and a wolf in the meantime. Guys and their bonding, huh?
“Okay,” Ben says finally, moving to Zac’s side. “At best, I’ll see him die. If we’re really lucky, he’ll get to see it too. But I guess we have to try something.”
Despite his pessimism, when he touches Zac, he doesn’t see his death. He gets sucked right into what Zac is seeing and hearing. I’m dragged in there right along with him. Who says being the Seeker’s no fun? Me, that’s who.
Though I know that I’m still trapped behind my cage of twinkling lights, that’s not what I see. Beyond the edges of my vision is darkness, the kind of darkness that swallows up everything. But it’s what’s right in front of me that has my attention.
Zac is on his knees on the ground, watching Matthias drain the blood of a woman with long red hair. Her neck is already twisted at an odd angle. When Matthias finishes, he lets her go, and she drops like a stone to the floor.
“No,” Zac begs, sounding far younger than his years. “Bring her back, please. You can, I know you can. Please.”
Matthias regards him with disinterest, wiping a bead of blood from the tip of one long fang before a slow grin crosses his face. And then the woman who was Zac’s mother gets up.
“Ben? What the fuck?”
He jumps at my frantic whisper.
“I think it’s a memory.”
We both stare in horror at the dead woman that shuffles to her feet. She lacks the grace and coordination that I’ve come to expect from vampires, but there’s no denying that she’s alive.
“Mom?” Zac sounds uncertain.
“She’s not a vampire, is she?” I murmur to Ben.
“No. There’s a whole ritual required to bring someone back as a vampire, and they have to be bitten before they die. But…”
“But what?”
“I’ve heard that the more powerful vampires can use their venom to reanimate their kills right after death.”
Fuck. This wasn’t vampire-mom, this was zombie-mom.
“Why is Zac seeing this?”
“No idea. Maybe if we knew him better… but this all happened after he left the guild’s protection.”
We’re both taken aback when zombie-mom speaks.
“This is your fault,” she hisses at Zac. “You’re just like your father.”
“No, Mom. I didn’t want to come here. I wanted to stay with the others. We were safe there.”
“Nowhere is safe, not for you. Except by your father’s side.”
Zac shakes his head, the whites of his eyes standing out starkly. Does he have any clue that he’s reliving his past? Or is he experiencing it like it’s the present?
“You’re just like him. You learned at his feet. He kills everything he loves and everything he fears. So will you.”
“No.” Zac shakes his head.
“You’ll kill the girl, just like he’s done many times over. Like all those called to stand by her side, you both love and fear the Seeker. Caught by her sweet temptation, yet you know she will bring you only death.”
This isn’t the past anymore. It’s something different.
“No.” Zac sounds stronger now as he meets his mother’s empty gaze. “I love Indy, yes. And maybe I’m afraid of what being the Seeker means. But I would never hurt her.”
“You will. It is written in history, a hundred times over. It’s always the vampire who caves first. Selfishness is engraved on your soul, overriding everything else. See for yourself.”
She claps her hands, and the scene we’re watching changes. Matthias disappears. Instead, there’s me and Zac. His hands are around my neck, and I’m scrabbling at his arms, trying to beg, trying to scream.
“No!”
Present Zac shouts, pushes to his feet, and lunges at the pair. The vision shifts forward, moving out of reach. Zac stands there, his hands pressed to his head, and yells incoherently. We have to do something.
“Fuck this shit,” Ben says, the heat in his voice surprising me. He grabs my hand and storms forward, approaching Zac.
“No, no,” Zac mutters. “I didn’t hurt her. I won’t hurt her. I—”
Ben rests a hand on Zac’s shoulder. He jumps, staring at him wide-eyed.
“It’s not real, Zac. This is just the maze’s magic getting into your head, messing you up. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“But Indy…”
“I’m right here. Safe and sound. Because of you.” I gesture to our counterparts. “That’s not you, Zac. That will never be you. You saved me. You staked Matthias and risked your life to get me to safety. You’re still risking your life, and your sanity, and it’s all for me.”
“That’s not our future?” Zac shoots an uncertain glance at the struggling pair.
“We control our actions,” Ben insists. “That only becomes the future if we let it. And I sure as hell don’t plan on letting it.” He claps Zac on the shoulder.
Zac still looks rattled, staring at zombie-mom who’s hanging out in the corner of this twisted vision.
“Tell her. Tell her she’s wrong.”
Zac glances back at me, nodding slowly.
“Better yet,” Ben adds. “Show her.”
I don’t get what he’s hinting at until Zac cups my face and kisses me. As our lips meet, he nudges gently against my mind, the first hint I’ve had that he inherited his father’s mind-probing skills. Panic flits through me for a moment before I relax and embrace his magic with mine. A rush of feelings flows through me, heady and strong—relief, passion, happiness. There is fear there, yes. But it’s fear for me, not of me. And there’s an emotion there that I can’t quite name, like all the other stuff is knotted together into something greater than the sum of its parts. Something being kindled inside both of us.
Zac pulls away, tears shining in his eyes.
“Thank you, Blue,” he whispers. Then he turns to face his zombie-mom, slipping his hand into mine.
“That is not my future.” He nods to our counterparts. “That’s Matthias talking, and he has no power over me, not anymore. Indy is ours to protect, and we’ll protect her with our lives. Now get the fuck out of my head.” He shouts the last line, and the world explodes in bright white light.
34
The light ebbs away, and I’m back inside my cage. In front of me, Jazz is helping Zac to his feet. He looks like he’s shaking off the last of a bad dream, still a little dazed.
“You alright over there, Blue?” he calls.
“Right as rain. You?”
“Better now. Thanks for coming for me, both of you.”
“A nightmare shared is a nightmare… well, shared,” Ben quips. “I know it’s been said before, but… your dad was a real bastard.”
“And so say all of us,” Jazz chimes in.
As one, we turn to the last wall. In those few seconds I spend staring at it, it changes a handful of times. Daylight on shiny green moss, moonlight on odd blue cacti, darkness except for little reflective pieces of rock.
Jazz folds his arms. “Ben, you’re up.”
Ben groans. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
He walks closer to the ever-shifting wall. It changes as he approaches, some of the bricks receding. From the gaps, something pushes through.
“Are those… hands?” Zac as
ks.
“They look like hands,” Jazz agrees.
I crane my neck to get a better look. “Are they moving?”
Ben’s gone pale. “Uh-huh. I guess I’m supposed to… you know… do my thing…”
Which means touching those strangers’ hands and seeing their deaths. Seems like an odd test, but okay, crazy maze.
“You can do it, Ben. This is almost over.” I hope that’s the truth.
He approaches the first hand to the left of the wall, reaching out cautiously to touch it. I half-expect a disembodied limb to pull away, but it’s worse; the hand grasps him back.
Ben goes rigid, his grip tightening before a shudder runs through him. He lets go of the hand like he’s been burned, stumbles back a step, and retches.
Jazz is by his side in an instant, close but not touching.
“Lynea,” Ben gasps out. “I saw… I saw…”
Oh, fuck. These aren’t five random hands. They are the hands of five people Ben knows. Maybe the five people he’s closest to. And whatever Ben saw, I didn’t see it. Like the maze wants him to do this alone. Well, fuck that.
Ben lifts his head and regards the rest of the hands. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“Ben. Come over here.”
Reluctantly, he turns and makes his way to me.
“I know, Indy. I know I have to if we’re going to get past this, but I just… I can’t…”
I rack my brain, trying to figure out what point the maze is trying to make here.
“Have you ever touched Lynea before? I mean, she trained you, right?”
“Actually, no. When it came time to start my physical training properly, they brought someone in from outside so I wouldn’t have to…” So, in the inevitable event that they touched, Ben wouldn’t be scarred for life having watched someone he was close to die.
Jazz and Zac join us. I’m still trying to reason it out.
“Okay. But the maze is teaching us to work together, how to have each other’s backs. How does tormenting you with the deaths of people you care about, but who aren’t involved in this, play a part in that?”
My eyes slide to Jazz and a question forms in my mind. “You’ve seen Jazz’s death, right?”
Ben shakes his head. “Never. Not something I ever want to see.”
“I think maybe that’s the point. Any idea who those other hands belong to? I’m guessing Archer’s in there.” The word ‘dad’ sticks in my throat. I’m not ready yet.
“Maybe your mom, too? The maze doesn’t seem to have a problem resurrecting dead people,” Zac points out.
“Peter, too,” Jazz admits. “I got his scent when I was closer. And Evan’s.”
Ben eyes us in horror.
“All of them are people you’re close to, right? People you care about? But Jazz eclipses all those. He told me you and he are like brothers. You grew up together, you shared that horrible childhood in hiding, where the only people you could truly rely on were each other. Do you want to watch all those other people die, or do you want to skip to the end and face your real fear—losing Jazz?”
“I’m starting to think maybe you are clairvoyant,” Zac comments. “Nice insight, Blue.”
“Well, while you’ve all been fighting for your sanity and your lives, I’ve been stuck here watching. The maze is trying to prove a point, and it’s not above repeatedly hitting us in the face with it.”
“Indy.” Ben’s gaze is pleading.
“I know. The maze is a cruel bastard.” I nod toward the wall. “If you want to go the slow way, I don’t blame you. I just think you’ll wind up right back here before this ends.”
Jazz nods, his face grim.
“She’s right. Come on, Ben. Let’s not drag this out. How bad can it be?”
From the way Ben pales, I’m guessing pretty fucking bad. But sometimes you just have to rip off the bandage and bear the pain. Clearly, this is one of those times.
“No,” Ben says, louder this time. “I can’t.”
He paces away from us while Jazz huffs in frustration and walks back toward the wall of creepy hands. Zac stays with me, giving them space.
They each stop in front of their respective walls before turning and facing each other.
“I can’t do this. I won’t do it,” Ben insists.
There’s a world of understanding in Jazz’s gaze.
“I get that. Do you think I want to see fear and horror in your eyes every time you look at me? But I’m not sure we have a choice here.”
“We do. I’m not doing it.” He lifts his head and shouts. “Do you hear me? This ends here.”
There’s an answering clap of thunder above us, and Jazz lets out a shout. I turn toward him. He stares down at himself, his eyes wide with surprise. The tip of a blade sticks out of his chest, blood gushing from it.
“Where—”
Who attacked him? And why?
“It came from the wall,” Zac says.
Stunned, Jazz reaches for the blade, falling to his knees as his legs go from under him.
“Jazz!” I scream, pushing against the walls of my prison until the lights start to hiss and crackle, warding me back.
Zac and Ben run to his side.
“I don’t think the maze likes ultimatums,” Jazz quips as blood escapes the corner of his mouth and slides down his chin.
He’s right. If this is the maze’s answer, then it’s a pretty clear one.
“He needs a healer, Ben,” Zac insists. “You’re up.”
To Ben’s credit, he doesn’t hesitate.
“Zac, I’m going to count to three. On three, I need you to pull the blade out. Jazz, this is going to hurt.”
“No shit. It already fucking hurts.”
Jazz’s hands are clenched into fists, his teeth gritted against the pain.
“One, two, three.”
Zac yanks the blade out, and Jazz lets out a haunting sound that echoes the howl of a wolf. Ben presses his hand over the newly revealed wound. His eyes cloud over, his spine straightens, and his hand locks in place over Jazz’s chest. The blood pouring down Jazz’s abdomen slows and stops.
It’s over as suddenly as it began, and Ben’s shoulders slump as his eyes clear.
Jazz groans and rubs a hand across his abdomen. Beneath his torn T-shirt, I see bloody but unmarred skin. He’s whole again.
“Will you ever be able to look at me the same way again?” he asks Ben.
Ben stares at his hand which is coated with Jazz’s blood. He glances at Zac, crouched beside them. With his other hand, he reaches out and cups Zac’s face, startling him.
“Ben, what the hell?”
He pats Zac’s cheek once and lets his hand fall. “Nothing.”
Next, he lays his hand on Jazz’s bare arm. A moment passes. “Nothing again.”
I’m still wondering what’s going on when Jazz breaks into a wide smile and drags Ben into a hug.
“You didn’t see it!”
Ben pulls back as he answers. “I saw… I saw something else when I healed you.” His eyes are troubled when he glances my way. “Like with Indy. I think, when it comes to us, my ability works differently. We’re shielded from Balor’s magic somehow.”
I want to know what it was Ben saw, but from the way he’s looking at me, I can tell this isn’t the time.
“Guys, the wall,” Zac calls, pointing to our last challenge.
It’s not a wall any longer. It’s settled into one aspect, and that aspect is an archway. Flowers wind their way around it, pretty and welcoming. Beyond the archway is the oak tree.
There’s only one problem. I’m still trapped behind a cage of sparkling lights. We’ve solved every test the maze has thrown at us, so why am I still in here?
35
Ten minutes later, the guys are still fruitlessly searching the area around the cage for a way to free me.
“There’s nothing here,” Zac says, kicking at a rock in frustration. “The walls are just walls now.”
; “Maybe you’re supposed to go on without me.” I gesture toward the archway.
“Definitely not.” Jazz doesn’t even entertain the idea, folding his arms and glaring at me. “We go through together, or not at all.”
“Then it looks like we’re going nowhere.” I sink back down to sit on the steps, another wave of tiredness catching me.
“Stay awake, Indy,” Jazz says immediately, and I force my heavy eyelids open.
“Right. I’m awake.”
“If the solution isn’t out here, then it has to be in there with you.” Ben moves close to the edge of the cage.
“We already tried that.” I cover my mouth to hide another yawn.
“Let’s try again.”
At Ben’s insistence, I drag myself to my feet. My legs feel like lead, and my head is so heavy. But I know where I’m going. There’s only one object of interest inside my pretty cage—the sphere in the center, the thing that enticed me in here in the first place. Hell, at least it isn’t a spinning wheel with a spindle, but it might as well be for how tired the magic in here is making me.
“Are you sure touching this again is a good idea?”
There’s a pause before Zac admits, “It’s not like we’ve got a lot of options here, Blue.”
“Fine.” I reach my hand out with a grumble. “But if I wind up asleep for a hundred years, that’s on you guys.”
“We’ll be snoozing right along with you,” Jazz promises as I press my hand to the cool surface of the sphere.
Nothing happens.
I’m about to complain loudly about the unpredictability of magic when Ben speaks.
“Indy? Look behind you.”
I meet his eyes through the light cage and turn.
“Wait. It’s a mirror, Blue.”
I pause at Zac’s words. We all know my history with mirrors.
“So am I looking, or am I not looking? I feel like I should look.”
“Just… be careful.” Zac’s gaze is trained over my shoulder. He’s not happy about this, but hey, I wasn’t crazy about what any of them had to face down.
Turning slowly on my heel, I keep my gaze slightly averted and find myself in front of an ornate mirror. It’s like something right out of a fairy tale—full length with a carved wooden frame. I lift my gaze and center it on the mirror itself. Nothing stares back at me. No reflection, just what you’d see if I wasn’t there.
