“Elf Warrior.”
“Exactly! Do you know anyone else who can beat that? Even though girls aren’t actually warriors,” he chuckles. “My family’s name is old, Emily…ancient, like the blood in my veins…in your veins. Do you remember this?” He pulls the chain of a necklace out from under his shirt and over his head. A heavy gold ring hangs from the middle. “It’s our family crest—the Golden Boar Passant.” He hands it to me.
A stylized boar stretches along the golden band; its front and hind legs rest on either side of an amber-colored crystal stone set in the center. Engraved on the inside are the same runes on my arm:
“The boar is a symbol of bravery and tenacity,” he says. “You used to wear this ring with a beaded cuff when you played elves and faeries as a little girl. Do you remember?”
A strange energy buzzes around the brand on my bicep. My scars begin to glow, white flames growing brighter, edges merging. The shrill metallic tone of a thousand cicadas reverberates in my ears as my arm goes super-nova.
I’m blinded. My skin is on fire. The pressure of Dad’s fingertips at my wrist grounds me. A storm concusses in my skull but my body barely shakes.
The brands disappear as Nissa’s gem-studded leather gauntlet encircles my forearm, extending over the back of my hand and through my fingers.
Approval emanates from Dad’s eyes. “There’s power in our name, Emily. You’re an Alvey. Where are the other weapons?”
And for some reason, I’m not the least bit worried that I don’t know where the dagger and shield are, or how to summon them. I simply reach out with my mind and they appear. The shield leans against my thigh on the floor, the dagger is belted around my waist.
“If you submit to me, I’ll teach you how to use them.”
I interlock my shorter fingers through Dad’s long ones. Elemental energy pours in from all the weapons, super-heating my blood, liquefying cartilage into molten gold. His hand steadies me, guides me. Exultant power sears the marrow in my bones.
The little girl screams in the maze. But she’s too far away. The howling energy pulsing in my body eclipses her voice. She bends down, scrawling something with a stick in the dirt. Stepping back, she points at the crude letters she’s scratched:
T R A P.
“QUIET!” I command.
A piercing rush of wind swirls through the hedgerow, surrounding the little girl. Suddenly the Gray Man towers over her, his barrel stock raised above her head.
Everything becomes radiant and still.
The Gray man speaks.
ENOUGH. THIS ENDS NOW. YOU STAY IN YOUR WORLD AND SHE STAYS IN HERS.
Please Emma, comes the faintest whisper, soft like the fading echo of a child’s voice. Look.
In the diner I raise my eyes and freeze. Dad’s eyes are fixed on me, his tongue wet between his moist red lips. I can hear his charged breath.
I balk, losing control of the energy flowing through me. It waivers clumsily, dissolving altogether. The gauntlet on my arm goes dark, transforming back into pale pink scars on my upper arm. The shield and dagger vanish. I fight the compulsion to snatch my hand away from Dad’s.
“Emily? What happened? Are you alright?”
Did I imagine hunger on his face?
I search his eyes and see nothing but compassion and concern.
Raw fatigue grips me. I want to sob but I can’t. Not here, not now. Fear rises steady in my chest, becoming certainty: I am not okay.
I don’t know what’s true anymore. I don’t trust myself. I can’t distinguish between awake and asleep. I can’t decipher between what is fantasy and what is real.
What just happened?
“Sorry…it …I don’t know…I guess I’m a little nervous.” I can’t meet his eyes.
“I understand. I’ve been nervous too. But now that I’m here it’s almost like I never left. You’re amazing, Emily, to say the least. You’ve always been special, even when you were very young. You were more mature than any little girl I ever met. We were different together, weren’t we? You were my little girlfriend. I could tell you anything and you always made me feel better.”
He’s right. He did make me feel special. I haven’t felt special since he went away.
In the booth behind Dad a young girl knocks her cup to the floor. Her father grabs for napkins, her mother scolds. The girl shrinks into the corner of their booth…
Oh no. I left the little girl alone. With the Gray Man.
Panicked, I fly to the hedgerow.
She’s gone.
Two shallow furrows gouge the ground in parallel lines leading away to the right. I sprint in that direction, following the tracks around twists and turns. Sounds of muffled struggle fuel my speed.
“STOP!” I yell. The struggle grows louder. Around the next bend I overtake them.
Hannah.
All at once I know the little girl has a name and it’s Hannah.
The Gray Man’s arm is around Hannah’s slender neck in a chokehold. Her eyes bulge. A filthy piece of ripped linen binds her mouth. Tears streak the dust on her face as her heels pummel the ground. She claws at the arm choking off her breath.
A snarl rips from my throat. Lowering my head I charge at the Gray Man, my shoulder slamming into his ribs.
All three of us hit the ground, but his arm still chokes her neck. I roll over on top of him, grinding my knee into his groin, punching at his face until he lets go.
His backhand catches me in the throat, crushing my windpipe and knocking me flat.
I can’t stay down. I’m back up on all fours, rushing him, ramming into his gut. My teeth clamp down on the skin just above his hip, tearing into his flesh. With every move he makes my teeth shred deeper, filling my mouth with rancid meat. He grunts, striking the crown of my head with his elbow.
My vision narrows. My jaws release. I grapple to bring myself closer, to cling to his body so at least she’ll have time to get away but my muscles won’t obey.
I’m on my back. His shadowy face hovers over me, his hands press down around my bruised larynx, squeezing…His face goes slack.
He topples over on my chest. Through dimming eyesight I see the woman—her name is Margaret—and Hannah peering down at me. Blood smears the butt of the rifle in Margaret’s grip. She drops it to the ground, cleaning her palms on her crisply pressed pencil skirt as she walks away in her patent leather pumps. Seconds later she’s back with a rope.
“Emily? Are you feeling all right?” In the diner Dad’s voice is concerned.
“I’m…I’m okay...” I mumble. But I’m not. I’m in two different realities at once.
I scrabble out from under the Gray Man and pull Hannah onto my lap, holding her tight. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, rocking her back and forth. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m just tired,” I make myself focus, and talk to Dad. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“I bet. You’ve had a lot on your plate, haven’t you? Looking after everyone. I know your great aunt and uncle can be hard to deal with, but that will be over soon, Emily. When we get home, we’ll hire someone to come in and take care of Mom. And you can teach me all about running a household. You’re probably better at it than most actual mothers.”
“Mom won’t need help. She’s going through detox and rehab. She’ll be better when she gets home.”
“I know all about what Ian and Meg have done, but Sandra’s my wife, Emily. I’ll make the decisions for my family. They took a lot of liberties, running off with you all in the night right before my release. And they’ll be sure to remind me how much they shelled out to pay for this ‘state of the art facility’ they’ve sent her to, even though that money should rightfully be mine. I can’t wait for them to hold that over my head for the rest of my life.”
I shift in my chair. Am I supposed to agree with him? They aren’t my
favorite bunch of people either, but they’ve supported us for ten years.
“We shouldn’t put too much pressure on Mom, Emily. Chronic pain is nothing to joke about. She needs her medications. You and I can handle things at home though, right? And of course Claire’s is getting older. I bet she’s gorgeous, like you. She’ll be a huge help. My two girls will manage the house and I’ll bring home the bacon. How does that sound?”
Hannah’s lips tremble as she looks up at me. I don’t like the things he’s saying, Emma.
“I know,” I soothe. “I don’t either.”
But it’s my fault Emma. I’m wicked. I did bad things. The Gray Man didn’t want me to tell you. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, ever. I wasn’t supposed to let you see me. But I’m scared. I’m scared of Dad. I don’t want to be his girlfriend anymore.
“Oh my sweet little girl,” I whisper. “It wasn’t your fault. You aren’t wicked. I will always love you, no matter what. You’ve been trying to protect me, haven’t you? Now it’s my turn to love you and keep you safe. I’m so sorry I got angry and yelled. I’m sorry I left you.”
I look up to tell Dad he’s wrong, to tell him that it’s more than chronic pain, that Mom is sick with depression and tried to kill herself, but that she’s getting better.
He’s gazing at me.
The words sour on my tongue because suddenly I know: he’s stronger than I am. Much MUCH stronger. And he knows everything. He knows that I won’t argue, that I won’t disobey, that I won’t breathe a word about Hannah or the secrets she hides. He knows he’s in control. I can’t fight him.
“How does that sound, Emily?” He repeats his question with an almost-patient smile.
“It sounds nice,” I lie.
“Good. Ah, your great uncle Ian is back. And look, he’s brought that little wetback with him. Won’t this be fun? Who do they think they are, telling me when I can and can’t see my own children? Never mind. I’ll play their little game for now. But I won’t forget what they’ve done.”
He stands. “Ian,” his voice booms through the small restaurant, “thank you so much for taking care of my family while I was away…”
I’m numb. I have no idea what I order. When the food arrives every bite tastes exactly like the last: sand. In my mind I rock Hannah back and forth, humming a tuneless song. My arms fall asleep and my knees cramp but I keep rocking, rocking. Conversation at the table buzzes in my ears. I nod robotically in answer to questions I don’t even hear. Every second I’m shrinking, retreating, falling-back deeper inside myself until finally I am all the way inside with Hannah and Margaret, wearing my tattered skin like a patchwork quilt. I’m not afraid anymore of getting lost in my mind. I don’t want to go back to reality anymore.
Twenty-Three
Hannah: I peek out at the world through Emma’s eyes like I’m looking through binoculars. I may be too little to stand up to My Dad, but I know how to take care of Emma. Aunt Margaret does too, ‘cuz we’ve been doing it for years and years. I know lots of games and stories to tell her now that she’s here in the fairytale we created together. And since Aunt Margaret has tied up the Gray Man, he can’t stop me from showing Emma anything I want, like where the Doorway is. The best news is that Emma is Ovate here. That means she’s strong enough to use the weapons to break the Seal, and once she does we can go to the First Realm and stay there together forever. I like it here on Emma’s lap. She’s in our world now—Aunt Margaret’s and mine—and she’s whispering that she’ll never leave me ever again. We don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll sing her a song to help her sleep on the drive home. When she wakes up, her dreams will be real.
Twenty-Four
Tires crunching on the gravel driveway bring me awake. Groggy, I raise my head from Kaillen’s shoulder. Gabe’s hand rests on my knee.
I sigh and close my eyes again so I can continue this bizarre but strangely pleasant dream in which both the hot lifeguard from Dallas and Nissa’s equally hot best friend/bodyguard from the First Realm have crushes on me.
The van door squeals open. I wonder what will happen next in this dream. I hope it’s something good. I need a distraction from thinking about the uber-weird meeting with the all-powerful Drake.
I sneak one eye open.
Lady Quince stands with her hand on the door looking in at us. A smile twitches her lips. “Are you three going to stay in there all day?”
Oh crap. This isn’t a dream.
Kaillen and Gabe remain stubbornly still on either side of me in the back seat.
Without turning my head to look at them I crouch-stand out of the van, tugging my top down over my shorts so they can’t see my butt. Crimson heat washes over me.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you Dear?” Quince asks, plucking a leaf from one of my wings. “Drake is extremely impressed with your strength, Emily. There’s no question that with his guidance and some training you’ll be able to break the Seal on the Doorway. What he and General Ian seem to have forgotten is that even a normal Changing can be very taxing, and yours was far from normal. It’s scarcely been a week since you took your mother’s Blaze and your wings unfurled all at once. You haven’t fully recovered. You’ll need to rest this afternoon before you begin your training tomorrow…”
At that moment Claire, Jacob, and Aidan come careening out of the house. The screen door slams behind them.
“I can’t believe you went to meet the Mediator without us,” Aidan shouts.
“Yeah, that hardly seems fair,” Jacob seconds. “When will we get to meet Drake? What did he say about your powers? Are you strong enough to break the Seal on the Doorway? How long will it take before you’re ready to try?”
“Was he wearing his cape?” Claire interrupts. “The black one with red underneath that flows even when he’s not moving?”
I grin. “No, Bug. He was business casual…slacks and a button-up shirt.” It’s kind of funny now that I think of it. “What did you guys do while I was gone?”
“Target practice,” Claire squeals, “and guess what! I shot the target three times! I was the best one! Seriously, I was! Tell her, Aidan, tell her how I was the best!”
“She was the best,” Aidan answers in a flat monotone through his barely-opened mouth. It’s amazing how far back in his head he can roll his eyes.
“Awesome, Bug,” I pull her close for a hug. “I was a pretty good shot with a bb gun when I was your age. We’d set up soda cans on one of the fallen redwoods and…”
“No,” Claire squirms away from my hug and bounces up and down. “It wasn’t with a bb gun, it was with a…a…what do you call it? A Glock!”
“Funny, Bug. How do you even know what a Glock is?”
“Uh oh,” Aidan says. “I tried to tell you the other day, remember?”
I squint my eyes at him. “Why would you joke about Claire using a Glock, Aidan? It isn’t funny.”
“I believe she used a Glock 26 subcompact pistol, Lady Alvey,” General Ian says. “Suitable for her frame and age.”
“Did you say ‘suitable for her age’?” My voice raises ten octaves.
“Don’t freak out,” Jacob says. “We need to be safe when we get to the Doorway. In case the crimbal and their Master come back.”
I’m trying to steady my breathing. “We obviously have different ideas about what’s suitable for a ten year-old girl, General. This isn’t HALO, Jacob. It’s real life. Using a Glock isn’t about shooting inanimate objects for fun. It’s about shooting live targets so you can kill them. With real bullets.”
“I knew you were going to say something stupid about video games,” Jacob mutters. “I’m not an idiot, I know this is real. But these aren’t people we’d be shooting at either. They’re monsters, remember? The ones who broke into our house and tried to kill us and take Mom’s wings for their Master. The General says they’re still hunting us. Do you think we should jus
t walk up to the Doorway unprotected?”
“This isn’t our fight, Jacob. You don’t need to go to the Doorway at all. You can stay here while I break the stupid Seal.”
“You’re going to leave us here alone? Nice. What if we’re attacked?”
“You won’t be alone. Some of the Fae can stay with you and then join the others after the Door is open and we know it’s safe.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Lady Alvey,” the General says. “The Doorway will only remain open as long as you hold it. All the Fae will need to be present. Jacob is right. It would be unwise to leave them here unprotected. The Vineyard offers no safety once we leave it, and I’m afraid the crimbal won’t waste an opportunity to seize your siblings and use them against us.”
My nails dig into my palms. “Fine. You’ll have to come with us. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you carry guns.”
“Lady,” the General says. “Your younger siblings handled Princess Nissa’s weapons on the night the crimbal attacked. You’ve done an admirable job watching over them while your mother has been ill, but you can’t keep them dependent on you forever. Their education has been neglected. Your brothers, especially, would benefit from the presence and example of strong men in their lives. Marksmanship and weapon safety should be part of every young man’s training. I don’t condone maidens training for combat, of course, but in this situation I concede it’s necessary, and—as I’m reminded almost daily—I have no authority over the maidens in this Realm. Lady Quince insisted that young Claire be allowed to join the practice.”
Quince insisted? I’m blown away. Isn’t it obvious to everyone that guns are a necessary evil to be used by the military in times of war and by police to keep the peace and by my ten year-old sister never?
“She’s not using a gun.” I won’t get sucked into a debate about the ethics of gun control with the General of the Fae army. I turn to Jacob and Aidan. “I can’t believe you guys were okay with this. Listen. You were so brave the night the crimbal broke in, but I don’t want any of us to go through anything like that ever again. Jacob, please tell me you understand the difference between an enchanted dagger and a semi-automatic pistol!”
Riven: Young Adult Fantasy Novel (My Myth Trilogy Book 1) Page 15
