by Anna Webb
Beyond the
BETWEEN
Anna Webb
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2018 by Anna Webb
All rights reserved. Neither this book nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form without permission.
Cover Artwork © 2017 by Taire Morrigan
Editing by Kelly Hartigan (XterraWeb)
http://editing.xterraweb.com/
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For my husband, Nicholas.
Chapter 1 – Allyra
Chapter 2 – Jamie
Chapter 3 – Allyra
Chapter 4 – Jamie
Chapter 5 – Allyra
Chapter 6 – Allyra
Chapter 7 – Allyra
Chapter 8 – Jamie
Chapter 9 – Allyra
Chapter 10 – Allyra
Chapter 11 – Allyra
Chapter 12 – Allyra
Chapter 13 – Jamie
Chapter 14 – Allyra
Chapter 15 – Jamie
Chapter 16 – Allyra
Chapter 17 – Allyra
Chapter 18 – Allyra
Chapter 19 – Jamie
Chapter 20 – Allyra
Chapter 21 – Jamie
Chapter 22 – Allyra
Chapter 23 – Allyra
Chapter 24 – Jamie
Chapter 25 – Allyra
Chapter 26 – Jamie
Chapter 27 – Allyra
Chapter 28 – Allyra
Chapter 29 – Allyra
Chapter 30 – Allyra
Chapter 31 – Allyra
Chapter 32 – Allyra
Chapter 33 – Jamie
Chapter 34 – Allyra
Chapter 35 – Allyra
Chapter 36 – Jamie
Chapter 37 – Allyra
Chapter 38 – Allyra
Chapter 39 – Allyra
Chapter 40 – Allyra
Chapter 41 – Allyra
Chapter 42 – Allyra
Epilogue – Jason
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Artwork
Chapter 1 – Allyra
Allyra swayed to the side, carried by instinct rather than sight. A second later, an arrow flashed past, parting the air with a soft huff, missing her ear by fractions of an inch. She didn’t wait to hear it thud into the ground. She was already twisting, readying her body to deliver a fierce blow to the closest opponent and a bone-shattering kick to the one that followed.
Two more arrows punched past. Ducking below the first, she plucked the other neatly from the air, thrusting it deep into the chest of the third opponent.
Feint.
Dodge.
Kick.
Thrust.
She reveled in the movement. The feel of her muscles—taut and strong—the eager pulse of her heartbeat, and the rush of adrenaline through her veins.
Without a stutter in forward momentum, Allyra leapt over a twisted obstacle of wire stretched across the path, designed to trip her up—coils to slow her down and barbs to make her bleed. It brought her to three more opponents. She reached for the daggers belted around her waist and sent two flying. A quick flare of her Gift, a swift tug on the yellow threads of the Air Element, and the two daggers flew true, burying deep into the chests of her opponents.
Out of weapons, Allyra didn’t falter. She rushed toward her final opponent, ignoring the new volley of arrows heading her way. The rush of adrenaline spiked in her veins—a river of fire, feverish and wild.
Somewhere, in the darkest recesses of her mind, a voice whispered. No, two voices, so similar they might as well be one. They urged her on—to kill, to destroy, to obliterate. Flooding her mind with bloodlust not entirely her own. And on her wrist, the tattoo of the twin tigers twitched and came to life.
No!
Pushing the Tiger voices away, she stilled the tattoo until it was no more than a silver band drawn around her wrist. Trying to calm her mind, Allyra skidded to a halt. Having forgotten about the volley of arrows, her sudden change in momentum had them heading directly her way. She reached for her Gift but not quickly enough. An arrow nicked her arm, leaving a flash of pain in its wake.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, yanking the blindfold from her eyes. The sudden brightness blinded her for a moment before her eyes adjusted to the light. Even then, she had to squint slightly to see her arm under the intensity of the sun. It couldn’t be more than an hour past dawn, but that didn’t dull the ferocity of the African sun. Even from its position low on the horizon, the sun’s rays beat down on Allyra’s skin, each one a tiny arrow in its own right.
Pulling at the shredded fabric that had once been the sleeve of her T-shirt, Allyra hissed as it tugged at her torn flesh. Bright red blood had already soaked through the cotton of her shirt, flowing freely down her arm, drops of crimson forming at her fingertips before falling to the ground, swallowed up by the dark earth.
The cut was deep, but the edges were clean. The arrow was sharp enough to slice through flesh without pause. In her previous life, she might have thought the wound deep enough to warrant a visit to an emergency room for some stitches. In her previous life, she probably would have fainted at the sight of so much blood. Those days were far behind her now. In the days since her return from the Between, since fighting for her life in the Elemental Trials, Allyra had come to view such injuries with quiet detachment. A necessary outcome of training, a payment of blood and pain in return for strength and speed and survival.
With a vicious jerk of her wrist, Allyra tore the sleeve from her shirt—it was destroyed anyway. She pressed it against the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding.
“Stupid,” she muttered darkly, glancing up at her opponents—really nothing more than linen sacks stuffed with straw in a vague approximation of a human shape. Nearby, the tennis ball machines Rob had devised to propel arrows at her clicked and whirled mechanically, having run out of deadly projectiles.
A lapse in concentration during training might cost her a little blood and pain, but if these opponents had been flesh and blood rather than cloth and straw, if this had been The Five Finals—she’d be lucky to escape with her life.
“Stupid,” she muttered again.
“I guess that’s one way to describe it,” a droll, languid voice suggested. “Personally, the words I’d choose would be inept, idiotic, and ungainly.”
Allyra gritted her teeth and bit back a sharp retort. Just what she needed—Laureline Singh, who could always be counted on to kick Allyra when she was down or provoke her when she was angry. Laureline’s words were poison disguised as honey, her actions barbs concealed in silk. Allyra plastered a smile on her face, Laureline thrived on conflict—it was best never to show any irritation or weakness.
“Laura,” Allyra said evenly. She couldn’t resist—Laureline hated the shortened version of her name, considering it unsophisticated.
Laureline narrowed her eyes—so fleetingly it was almost imperceptible. Allyra was aware she had to tread carefully; after all, Laureline was their contact to the Rising, the rebel group her father had been a part of, the one he had given his life for. Rob was also a part of the Rising
, but he was low on the food chain compared to Laureline—she was second in command of the Rising. The right-hand man, or woman, as it were, of Rowan, the mysterious and as-yet-unseen leader of the Rising.
So, Laureline’s position commanded respect, but it didn’t make dealing with her any easier. Any interaction with Laureline was a game of strategy, all moves and countermoves. And no game was ever the same. But, if she had learned one thing over the last month, it was not to trust Laureline, who, despite her beauty and soft smiles, was about as friendly as an angry spitting cobra.
Laureline traded in the unhappiness of others, and she was good at it—she had an uncanny ability to hone in on weakness and push on it until she crushed it like a bug beneath her designer shoes. It was on this talent that Laureline had climbed the ranks of the Rising—she was their finest interrogator, and when she wasn’t practicing her craft on the enemies of the Rising, she honed her technique on just about anyone who should be so unfortunate as to cross her path—Allyra included. And recently, Laureline seemed to derive a special type of pleasure from Allyra’s pain though she claimed it was no more than an attempt to train Allyra, to ensure she was ready for The Five Finals.
Over the last month of training, Allyra had learned a few rules. First, don’t show any emotion—a poker face was the best defense. Second, never, never, rise to any provocation, no matter how on target it was—staying cool and collected was the only way to ensure Laureline lost interest and refocused her attentions elsewhere.
Narrowed eyes weren’t much to celebrate, but it was enough that Allyra felt an extremely childish sense of elation.
Laureline smiled, full, rouged lips curving upward in a smile that never reached her eyes. “Sloppiness like that will get you killed in The Five Finals.”
“So you keep telling me,” Allyra replied evenly.
“Why are you always so prickly?” Laureline asked, her eyebrows drawn in apparent consternation. “All I’ve tried to do is help you. Rob and Jamie are good people, and I’d hate for them to feel the grief of your loss, not when they’ve lost so much already.”
“Your concern is appreciated, but I learn from my mistakes—it won’t happen again.”
“Won’t it though?” Laureline replied with a smirk. “It’s a miracle this ground isn’t red by the blood you’ve spilt on it over the last month.”
“I’ll be fine,” Allyra said, anger rising like a rogue wave. “After all, I won the Elemental Trials.”
Laureline let out a huff of derision and shook her head. “You’re a fool if you think the Elemental Trials can be compared to The Five Finals in any way. The Trials are nothing but children playing with matches. The Five Finals will be wildfire—if you aren’t prepared, it will consume you and leave nothing but ash behind.”
As always, Laureline had chosen her target well. The doubt and fear Allyra had hidden deep in the darkest corners of her mind crested over her like a wave. She tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, but her mouth was drier than desert sand.
Aware she was the victor of this particular iteration of the game, Laureline’s smile widened. Pressing her advantage, her gaze drifted over Allyra, and her nose scrunched in distaste. “Rob’s looking for you. He wanted to get an early start. But, I’m sure he’ll make time for you to get cleaned up.”
Allyra tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. She’d been training for the last hour, and suddenly, she was all too aware of the layer of dust coating her skin and the trickle of sweat running down her spine. The humidity here in the Lowveld was relentless, keeping the temperatures high even without the sun’s heat. The air was still and thick, pressing up against her, coaxing the sweat from her skin. Right on cue, the sweat gathered at her forehead dropped and ran down her nose. Allyra tightened her fingers into a fist. Do not brush it away!
In a perfect contrast to Allyra, Laureline appeared cool, fresh, and perfectly put together, almost as if she’d walked out of a high fashion photo shoot. There was no denying it—Laureline was beautiful. Tall, but curvy, with long, silken black hair, flawless copper-toned skin, and large eyes in a shade of hazelnut, outlined in green. Beauty might be in the eyes of the beholder, but there would be few who laid eyes on Laureline who wouldn’t acknowledge her incredible physical appearance. Unfortunately, in Laureline’s case, she was all too aware of her own beauty, and she never passed on an opportunity to flaunt it.
For once, Allyra was glad for it. Snide comments about her appearance were easy to handle. In fact, any topic other than her ability to survive The Five Finals was preferred.
“What are you waiting for?” Laureline demanded irately. “Let’s go.”
Allyra fell into step with Laureline. The walk back to the house was another twenty minutes that she had to fend off Laureline’s veiled barbs, but blood was pooling in her clenched fist and dripping down her leg. The wadded cloth she had pressed to the wound was doing little to stem the flow. It was probably a good idea to get it bandaged properly.
They picked their way through the thick sugarcane field, carefully brushing aside the thick fronds to avoid being sliced by the leaves. It had become a habit for Allyra to tear off a few pieces of sugarcane and peel away its hard exterior to suck the sweet nectar from the spongy, fibrous stem—a sugary reward for a hard training session. But that required two hands, and she didn’t think blood would complement the sweetness.
Rob was waiting in the clearing, standing beside his Land Rover, already packed and ready to go. His eyes widened in concern as he took in her bloody appearance. “Ally! What did you do?” A few quick strides and he was by her side.
She batted away his hands as he tried to get a better look at the cut. “Shower first, and then you can look.”
Reluctantly, he stepped back and nodded, no less concerned. “Go then, before you bleed out.”
The borehole water was cool as it washed over her, carrying away the sweat and dirt of the training session. Her blood mixed with the water, creating a pink-and-white candy cane swirl across the cracked shower tile and into the drain. The blood seemed to stain the tile, and Allyra rubbed her toe across one in a halfhearted attempt to clean it, but she soon gave it up for a lost cause. The tile might once have been white, but years of dirt and grime and mold had turned it a vaguely suspicious beige. Allyra decided red might actually be an improvement.
It was tempting to stay under the cool stream of water, but she didn’t linger. There was no running water or electricity in the safe house they were living in. The cottage provided by the Rising was little more than four concrete walls held together by a corrugated iron roof. This was a place designed for survival; there were no luxuries here. Taking a shower meant hand cranking borehole water for fifteen minutes to enable a three-minute shower.
Using a threadbare towel to dry herself, Allyra took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her mirrored self was somehow both familiar and alien. The long brown hair, pale skin and gray eyes were all the same, but there was a hard set to her shoulders and an icy determination in her eyes that were new. The naïve, hopeful girl of the days before the Between was gone.
Another difference was the new scars that marked her skin. The jagged scar across her ribs was starting to fade, but the physical reminder of her encounter with the Ancient would never truly disappear. In contrast, the two wounds Jason had delivered during the Final Trial were already barely visible. Thanks to her Gifted healing ability, her body would not bear the physical remnants of her battles. Though the same could not be said of her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, Allyra saw the red glare of the Ancient’s eyes glaring back at her. She turned away from the mirror as an icy shiver crawled down her spine.
* * *
Rob and Laureline were on the couch waiting for her. Rob had his arm slung over Laureline’s shoulders, and she was curled into his side, her long, slim legs tucked beneath her.
For as long as Allyra had known Rob, which basically amounted to her whole life, he had al
ways been…unsettled, in the romantic sense. There was never anything mean-spirited about the deliberately short relationships that Rob maintained; it was simply that the word commitment wasn’t part of his genetic makeup. But looking at the way his arm curled possessively around Laureline, Allyra suspected that this relationship may be the one to break the mold. She sighed silently. She might actually have to learn to like Laureline, if only for Rob.
Allyra cleared her throat pointedly. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Rob leapt to his feet and guided her to the wooden dining table on which the contents of his first aid kit were spread. He was quite the field medic, an outcome of his years of outdoor adventures, and his skill had come in handy over the last month, dealing efficiently with the range of her rather numerous injuries. His touch was gentle as he took hold of her arm to take a closer look at the cut.
“Ouch,” he hissed sympathetically, “arrow?”
Allyra nodded with a wry grimace.
Rob shook his head. “We should’ve blunted the heads.”
“I needed to train with some aspect of danger. It would’ve been useless training with the knowledge I could never be hurt.”
Rob fell silent. It was a well-worn argument, and one Allyra had won, but it didn’t mean Rob liked it much. With his head bowed over her arm, Rob worked quickly and efficiently, applying disinfectant and then a sturdy bandage.
“Done,” he pronounced a few minutes later. “Thanks to your ridiculously speedy healing, this shouldn’t need any stitches.” He got to his feet. “And now we should really get going.”
At his words, her heart somersaulted in her chest. She’d tried her best to not think about this, not today, not over the last month. But she couldn’t avoid it any longer, not when Rob was taking her on the two-day drive back to the Elemental College. To The Five Finals.
Allyra smiled gamely and nodded. “Let me just grab my stuff.”
“I already packed the bag on your bed—you don’t have anything else, do you?” Rob said, already halfway out the door.
