Reckless Cruel Heirs
Page 33
The sharp beats of his heart finally brought me back.
I smelled the salt and steel of his fight.
I heard his tongue stroking my name, not the one he’d given me, but the one my parents had.
His callouses scraped my spine, and his breaths warmed my skin.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” My tone was emotionless, the dam I’d erected still holding.
Remo pressed me away. “I’m going to go check.”
“Check?”
“Turn around.”
My heart stilled. “Why?”
“You know why, Trifecta.”
When I finally shuddered, he stroked my jaw, careful not to graze the bruised flesh.
“I’ll be right back.” Another slow caress. “Wait for me here, okay?”
I looked at the ashen sand, not wanting Remo to leave. “If he’s really dead, a plant will grow.”
“Maybe it doesn’t work like that here. Besides it would take time, and I don’t want to waste another minute on Kingston.”
I bit my lip, but it stung, so I released it. My uncle had broken my skin but hadn’t broken me.
Remo called out Giya’s name, and I turned toward where she now sat, silver eyes blinking from behind clumped locks.
She rose and took Remo’s place next to me. And then she curled her arms around my back and held me as he vanished from my line of sight. He must’ve stayed in hers, though, because, a gasp pulsed from her mouth just as a wet grunt followed by a quiet thump sounded behind me. My chest tightened, and I shut my stinging eyes.
When I dared a glance over my shoulder, Remo was gone, and in his place, was a mound of dust sprinkled through with drops of scarlet and topped with a soiled machete and a bloodied pen.
My lashes clumped, which was ridiculous, because I knew he was coming back.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing someone die,” Giya said, as she helped me stand. Her gaze skipped from one patch of gray sand to the next. When I shivered, she tightened her grip on my shoulders and tugged me closer to the water. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to steep in this little pool until I wrinkle like a dried gladeberry.” She sniffed her arm and shuddered fiercely. “I reek of Kingston and of fish guts, although that may be one and the same. Gejaiwe, how did I not make the tigri flee?”
My teeth chattered behind a fleeting smile. “Aloe. S-Soap.” I pointed an unsteady finger at the curly yellow plants.
When she slipped away from me, I locked my knees so I wouldn’t fall. My hand thumped limply against my thigh, and my gaze, like my fist, drifted downward, landing on the red apple. On her way back, Giya crouched and picked it up. The carved flesh had filled in and the crimson skin reformed.
I wanted to smash it.
Burn it.
But Quinn would be back. And perhaps Kingston.
A flicker of the Daneelie shoving his dirty spear through Remo ignited a spark in my chest. Wordlessly, I reached out and took the tainted fruit from her.
A distant roar rose over the crush of water, and Giya’s face whitened. I hoped it was the sound of the last tigri impaling itself on someone’s spear.
“Are you planning on using the apple on Quinn?” Her voice cut through my throbbing temples.
“I don’t know.”
We stared at the apple for another long beat, then walked toward the frothing water, slipping inside its cool, cleansing depths until we were completely submerged. When I came back up for air, the concept of needing oxygen underwater still so foreign to me, I found Giya dripping yellow gel into her palm.
“It floats,” I said.
She frowned, so I gestured to the aloe spear.
She set it on the water and watched it bob. As she lathered up, I returned to the beach and sat, knees bent into my chest, toes curled in the sand, apple stowed securely inside my palm. I shut my drained eyes, but the memory of all that had happened spooled behind my lids, so I fixed them to the boulder I’d sat on yesterday.
Was it yesterday?
How I hated the continual white sky.
“Whose dust did you magnetize, and when?” Giya worked her rope of hair into a lather.
“Karsyn’s. The night of the betrothal revel. He attacked me. Tried to kill me.”
Her eyes darkened like thunderclouds. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I struck a bargain with Remo about keeping quiet.”
She wrung her tresses so hard suds foamed between her knuckles. “I don’t understand. I thought Karsyn attacked you . . .”
“Remo arrived mid-assassination-attempt. He helped me stop Karsyn.”
The corners of her already bowed lips turned down some more. “I will kill the little twerp. Along with his grandfather and Joshua Locklear.”
“I appreciate your savage compassion, cuz, but I don’t want you going anywhere near them.” I shot her a smile meant to ease her vengeful temperament, but it mustn’t have been very effective, because her lips didn’t unbend and her eyes didn’t brighten. “Want some help with your hair?”
Her eyebrows stayed flat, unmoving, but her mood . . . it raged and writhed through her body. I wanted to reach out and steal her anger, lob it atop my own, let it fester inside me instead of inside her. The Farrows and the Locklears were my burden to carry, not hers.
“Giya . . . let it go.”
“Would you let it go if someone hurt me?”
“No.”
“Then don’t expect me to let any of it go.” Giya dipped her head back, rinsing out her hair before squeezing more soap into her palm and kneading the lengths anew. There was something cathartic about the spectacle, as though it wasn’t only dreadlocks unraveling but also our collective tension.
As I watched new strands break free, a bolt of horror shattered the serenity. “How did Remo kill himself?”
The aloe spear jolted out of Giya’s grasp. “What?”
“How did he take his life?”
“Amara—”
“How?”
She pursed her mouth. “I don’t know. I was sort of trying not to look. With the machete, I think.”
My palms became ice, and the back of my neck fire. He’d used the machete on the apple. I pressed a trembling hand to the organ beating too hard and too fast inside my chest, feeling as though it was about to detonate like the train.
Giya frowned and then she didn’t. Then her eyebrows popped up. Both our gazes arrowed toward the top of the cliff. Quinn would come back, but would Remo? Cruz had said the apple needed to be ingested. What if a residue of apple had remained on the machete, and the blade had nicked his stomach?
“Where, Giya?” Foam danced around the cracked polish on my toes.
“Where what?”
“Where on his body did he . . .?” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
Again her expression turned guarded. Did she think I was asking because I wanted to torture myself with the details?
“I don’t know,” she confessed.
I closed my eyes and strengthened the dam, needing to keep myself together a while longer.
“Are you two having a relaxing bath?” Kiera’s voice pierced the torpid air.
Slowly, I stared over my shoulder toward where Josh’s sister stood, her outline unfocused, mere dabs of color—white, gray, red. Another person stood beside her. Although the contours of his body were as hazy as hers, Cruz was unmistakable. Then again, he was the only man left in the valley.
“Is that . . . the apple?” Her navy eyes gradually came into focus. They jumped between the fruit and my face.
Cruz froze. “Where are all the others?”
I couldn’t get my breaths to coalesce into sounds.
Giya, suds still streaking her hair, strode out of the water. She sank to her knees in front of me and placed gentle, sunshine-scented palms on either side of my face. “He’ll be back, Amara,” she whispered softly but firmly. “He will.”
Cruz and Kiera’s shadows fell over us.
There was no sun and yet there were shadows. How strange.
Cruz crouched, spinning his grimy knife between bloodied fingers. “Can you tell us what happened?”
I swallowed, but the lump inside my throat was so thick that Giya had to explain. When she was done, a tightness appeared between Cruz’s eyes.
Kiera turned away, silent and stiff, and dove into the water. I didn’t know her well enough to read what was going through her mind, but I doubted her annoyance—or was it worry?—had anything to do with Kingston.
Cruz’s knees clicked as he rose from his crouch. “I’m surprised Quinn sided with Kingston.”
Giya sent a chilling glower his way. “Well he did. We’re not liars.”
He lifted both palms in the air, his knife’s blade casting a stripe of light over my cousin’s lethal expression. “I wasn’t insinuating you were.”
“He hates what I represent, Cruz.” The volume of my voice dashed itself against the dam, sending the words up with little sound. “Who I remind him of . . .”
His chest expanded with a sigh. “Kingston must’ve convinced him you wouldn’t have him freed.”
Just as he emitted the hypothesis, a body plunged into the pool. My heart held still, hoping it was Remo, but the head that surfaced was bald.
“I guess we’re about to get answers.” Cruz turned toward Quinn. “I’ve just heard some disconcerting news about your alliances.”
Quinn spit out a mouthful of water.
“Is it true?” Kiera, who’d vanished behind the iridescent curtain, reappeared and was staring at her uncle, her expression as harsh and unbridled as the Great Lakes of her childhood.
Quinn’s gaze narrowed on me. Had he expected to find Kingston down here? Probably.
“Quinn? Your niece asked you a question . . .” Unlike Kiera, Cruz’s tone was placid.
“Yes! YES.” He swam spastically toward the shore.
My lips parted. I’d imagined he would’ve tried to save his hide by painting me a liar.
“The enemy of our enemy is our friend, right?” he yelled, rising from the water.
“Kingston was never our friend!” Kiera said. “And Ace Wood isn’t our enemy; Gregor Farrow is. He’s the one who stuck us in here.”
Quinn tossed a hand in the air. “And who do you think is screwing Gregor’s grandson?” He pointed at me. “She is! So, I’m sorry if you’re disappointed I chose to help him, but I don’t trust her or her little fiancé. Did you know she has dust? She tried to lie to me about it, but I saw it!”
Kiera frowned at him, then at me. “You can use your powers?”
“No. But for some reason”—I displayed my tattooed palm—“I’ve been able to manipulate the dust I confiscated before coming here.”
Her mouth thinned.
“Cruz was aware of it,” I added.
“I wasn’t,” Kiera bit out.
“I don’t know you, Kiera. I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
“You don’t know Cruz either, princess.”
“True, but I felt like I knew him because of Iba’s stories. I apologize for not trusting you.” Then again, had I trusted her, she might’ve told Quinn, and that might’ve changed the outcome of my battle.
Silence fell over us, silence punctuated by a gasp. Quinn’s. “You have the apple.”
When he cranked his neck back toward the top of the cliff, Kiera gritted out, “He’s dead, Quinn.” I wanted it to be true. “Your ally is dead. You bet on the wrong faerie.”
The color leached from his whiskered cheeks. For a second, I thought he might try to run and hide, which, considering the scope of this cell, wouldn’t have been efficient, albeit instinctual.
“I suppose you expect me to bite the apple now,” he muttered.
I tipped my head to the side. “I murdered a man today because it was either him or me, and I chose me, but I have zero desire to murder another one.” I turned my gaze back to the top of the cliff, willing Remo to hurry.
Quinn stalked toward me. “Give it to me.”
Cruz stepped between us. “What do you want to do with it, Quinn?”
“I want to eat the fucking thing and be done with this sorry-ass life.”
Cruz put a hand on the man’s shoulder, but Quinn shrugged it off. “They’re going to come—”
He snorted. “Yeah, and you’ll be proclaimed a hero, but Kiera and I will forever be the villains . . . the traitors. And me, even more so now.”
“Quinn,” Kiera whispered his name as she stepped out of the water. “You promised not to leave me.”
“You have all of them now. You don’t need me.”
“I do need you.” A tremor shook the proud line of her shoulders, making the golden claws and fangs strung around her throat clink and cast riotous tinsels over the wet sand.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I’m tired.”
She rushed into his arms, and he caught her, hugged her tight, and it reminded me that those capable of hatred were also capable of love.
Had Kingston ever been capable of the sentiment? Sure, he’d loved himself, but had he ever loved someone else? Maybe his mother . . .
“The apple, princess. Hand it over.”
Cruz was still standing between us. “Are you certain, Quinn?”
“Yes.”
“Please, Quinn . . . don’t do this,” Kiera croaked.
The bearded Daneelie shut his eyes. When he opened them, they were slick with tears but sharp with determination. “Go away, Kiera.”
“Don’t—”
“Go!”
She backed up. “You selfish asshole!” And then she twisted around and ran.
Quinn cringed but extended his hand, and Cruz shifted sideways to give him access to me. He stayed close, though, perhaps worried eating it wasn’t Quinn’s intent.
After handing him the apple, I pressed my palms together. I didn’t extract my dust, but I readied it.
For a heartbeat, Quinn stared at the space between the panem and aloe where Kiera had taken refuge. “Cruz, you’ll take care of her, right?”
“I will.”
Quinn’s Adam’s apple bobbed. In slow motion, he brought the apple to his mouth, parted his lips, and sank his yellowed teeth into the crisp red skin.
His brows snapped together.
His body jerked.
The apple fell, the bitemark a small cloud floating in a crimson sky.
Like the water that flowed through his veins, the Daneelie liquefied, gliding into his watery grave.
41
The Wait
Cruz had jerked just as hard as Quinn in his final moment. But since then, he hadn’t moved. Giya, on the other hand, had spun her head away, a fist clamped against her teeth. Her chest heaved, but she somehow managed not to be sick, the same way I somehow managed to feel nothing at the sight of another man dying.
I didn’t wish to become anesthetized to death, because those who were took life for granted. But I hadn’t known Quinn. Hadn’t liked him. So how was I supposed to care that he was gone? I felt awful for Kiera and hoped she wouldn’t hold his death against me. I felt bad for Cruz, because whether he’d been tight with Quinn or not, they’d coexisted in this cell since his own imprisonment.
“I’m—I’m going to go check on . . . Kiera.” He shuddered. “Will you two be all right?”
We would be . . . in time. Giya was shocked and shaking. As for me . . . I existed but wasn’t truly there. Raising my gaze back to the top of the cliff, I murmured, “Go.”
He nodded, then strode away from the sandy graveyard. I’d always loved the beach, but today would blemish that love.
A wavelet lapped at the apple.
Whole again.
I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t want to touch it anymore, even though I probably would have to, if only to make sure no one else tried to take their lives or someone else’s. After some time, Giya went to rinse the suds from her hair, then strode back out and dropped down next to me on the sand.
“You’re shivering.” Giya draped her arm around me.
I let my head drop against her shoulder. My sodden clothes stuck to my goose bumps, racking me with more tremors.
For a while, we were both quiet.
Then, “I can’t believe you have feelings for Remo Farrow. The bully who made your childhood hell.” She rested her cheek on the top of my head. “Faith and your mother are going to have to make peace. That’ll be entertaining.” I could hear her smile.
I was incapable of smiling.
She squeezed me against her. “He’ll be back, Amara.”
“What if—”
“He’s a Farrow, abiwoojin. They’re unkillable. Sook tried and failed spectacularly.”
No one was unkillable. Instead of reminding her, I picked my head off the damp cream silk of her top. “Sook tried to kill Remo?”
“Not Remo. Gregor.” Giya stared around her as though expecting to see her twin stroll out from the jungle, wearing his signature wily smile. “Thankfully, your father interceded. With Iba, they managed to bury the assassination attempt.” She sighed, her worry so thick it glazed the air. “I hope he gets here soon.”
I wasn’t sure if she was talking about my father, hers, or her brother. Probably all three.
Even though Sook wasn’t easily frightened, I couldn’t imagine having to fend for myself in this prison. Couldn’t imagine it, because I’d had a companion throughout every trial—an obstinate boy who’d followed me into Hell to keep me safe.
The dam fissured, and tears poked out from the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry. I know how much you’re hurting. I’m so sorry.”
Giya’s arm was back around my shoulders. “Sook is allergic to apples, so I’m not hurting. My brother will be fine. He’s probably getting acquainted with more animal innards as we speak. But you know as well as I do that’ll just give him more stories to tell. I bet he’s secretly loving his adventures.”