by Morgan Rice
A blue smoke rose around the girl. Then all at once, she disappeared, leaving Scarlet standing in the room alone, her fingers wrapped around the precious tincture.
In her hands, she held life and death.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lore was up to his ankles in mud and pig slop. As the dirty creatures rushed around his legs, he clenched his fists. He was furious with himself for being tricked, and even more furious to be in a stampede of stinking animals.
Lore’s rage reached a boiling point. He grasped one of the pigs rushing past him and threw it fifty feet into the air. The pig landed with a dull thud in a cornfield two fields over. He stomped forward, catapulting the creatures out of his way, feeling his anger pulsing through his veins.
The Immortalists who had followed him looked perturbed by their new leader’s emotional outburst. By the looks on their faces, Lore could tell that some were starting to doubt whether following him was a good idea after all, or whether Octal had been right to entrust Lore with this mission.
The raven-haired woman approached Lore carefully. He was facing away, trying to get some space from everyone’s stares, and so she came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. At first, he shook her off. She tried again. The second time he let her fingers wrap gently around his shoulder, which was rising and falling rapidly with each one of his angry breaths.
The woman leaned toward his ear. Her hot breath tickled his earlobe as she spoke.
“Do not lose faith, Lore,” she said.
He turned to face her, taking in the beauty of her face all over again. Her appearance was striking, making something stir deeply inside of Lore. It was an emotion he couldn’t place, one that seemed so out of place amongst all the anger and bitterness he usually carried deep within him.
“How can I lead them?” Lore said under his breath. “They have lost faith in my abilities. I’ve led them here, to this wretched farm in the middle of nowhere. I promised them a war.”
The woman’s eyes sparkled.
“Then give them one,” she said. “Command them in their next mission. Do not let one failure stop you.”
Lore turned away and shook his head. The disappointment he felt was too much to swallow. The pressure was too intense. His family, his race, they were all relying on him. For the first time, he didn’t know if he could lead them to victory, and that doubt was eating him up.
“Now is not the time for a crisis of confidence,” the woman continued, her tone a little sharper, as though she too were losing patience. “You brought Sage to us before. I know you can do it again.”
At the mention of his cousin’s name, Lore felt a deep pit of unhappiness open inside of him. Sage. This was all because of Sage. How could he not have seen how selfish his actions were? Falling in love with a stupid little girl? Lore had spent time with Scarlet and her friends. He loathed them. They disgusted him as much as the pigs milling round his feet. And yet Sage had gotten so inexplicably wrapped up with that one girl that he would put them all through this hell? It just didn’t make sense to Lore.
The other Immortalists were beginning to mutter to themselves, clearly reaching the end of their rope.
“Shall we try to find the parents?” one of them asked, the irritation in his voice unmistakable.
Lore gritted his jaw. He didn’t know. Should they follow the parents, who would undoubtedly lead them to Scarlet but who seemed able to easily shake off his Immortalist army? Or change tactics?
“Yes,” he said. “Follow them. Find them again. They’ll lead us to the girl.”
Relieved to have finally been given orders, the group took to the air, flying off in the direction that the motorbike had disappeared.
Lore watched them go, a sense of bitter disappointment filling him. He had no intention of going with them. He had failed in his mission. It was someone else’s turn to lead.
It was then that Lore noticed the raven-haired woman had remained behind. She looked at him placidly.
“You’re not coming, are you?” she said.
Lore shook his head.
“I’ve failed,” he said. “I’m no leader.”
“And yet,” she replied, “here I am, willing to follow. Isn’t that what makes a leader? Someone whom others follow?”
Lore frowned at her. He didn’t understand why she was so insistent in making him lead the army, or why she was constantly trying to bring him back from the brink of his anger.
“Why?” he demanded. “Why are you following me?”
The woman’s eyes sparkled again.
“I’m drawn to you,” she said. “You have a power. An energy.”
“You don’t even know me,” Lore contested. “We had never met before tonight.”
The woman smiled.
“Then let me introduce myself,” she said, holding out a hand. “I’m Lyra.”
Lore looked at her outstretched hand like it offended him.
“What do you want me to do with that, Lyra?” he scoffed.
“I want you to shake it,” she said with a small, haughty laugh.
With a huff, Lore took her hand in his and shook. The moment their skin met, a current like electricity ran through the length of his arm. Lore’s throat became very dry. He let go of her hand immediately.
“Now what?” he said.
Lyra smirked. “You tell me, leader.”
Lore was about to once more tell her how futile her trust in him was, when all at once, the wind began to whip up around them. The sky darkened, blocking out the moon and star light. In the distance, the farm animals in their barns began to protest, mooing and cawing.
Lore watched as wind raced through Lyra’s long, raven hair, tousling it. Her black clothes flapped in the gale force of the wind. He reached out and grabbed her at the top of her arms to steady her.
“What’s happening?” he cried over the noise.
Lyra tried to say something but the wind caught in her throat. She shook her head. Then Lore saw her eyes widen with surprise.
He glanced over his shoulder, fixing his gaze on the point in the distance that had caught her attention. A white column of light was bursting through a layer of thick, black cloud, far, far in the distance.
“What is that?” he cried, turning back to face Lyra.
“I don’t know,” she managed to shout. “But I believe it’s a sign. It’s for us.”
“How can you be so sure?” he shouted back.
“I just am,” Lyra replied. “And I’ve been right about everything so far.”
Lore could hardly believe how arrogant she was being considering the circumstances.
“You want to fly there?” he contested. “On a hunch?”
Lyra flashed her eyes at him and grinned. Rather than answering, she took to the skies. The wind forced her off course. From Lore’s position on the ground, he could tell the journey would certainly be rough going.
Yet he leapt and began to fly, following Lyra into the unknown.
*
Lyra and Lore flew side by side through the treacherous storm. Below them, the ocean waves churned, black and vengeful. Thunder rumbled in the distance, coming from the same direction as the mysterious column of light. Lightning flashed, too close for comfort. For the first time in a long time, Lore felt the danger of death lurking at his shoulder.
As he flew, Lore couldn’t help but glance over at the beautiful woman. He felt a pull toward her, a magnetism. He admired the way she had remained level-headed when it had seemed all hope was lost. And now, as she glided through the air, he admired her fixed determination, the way she had not wavered for a moment in her decision to follow the strange light. For the first time since his cousin had run off with the vampire girl, he had an inkling as to why. The sensation wasn’t one that could be controlled. It was above reason, above logic. Lore realized, his heart pounding, that he may be falling in love.
A crack of lightning exploded right beside the two Immortalists, and they swerved just in time to sav
e themselves from being hit, diving down so that they were soaring just inches from the surface of the water. Lore felt ocean spray on his face and tasted salt. The cold wind raced through his clothes, making him shiver down to the bone. But the whole thing felt exhilarating.
“Look!” Lyra suddenly cried.
Lore broke his gaze from her and looked in the direction she pointed. Looming out of the darkness was a crooked tower. It stretched up to the heavens, and seemed to lean toward the ocean at a strange angle. The light they’d been following was coming from the tower, bursting through its peak.
“What is that?” Lore said.
By the excited expression on Lyra’s face, he had an inkling that she knew.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe the legend is real.”
“What legend?” Lore cried, fighting to make himself heard over the wind.
“They have no name,” Lyra shouted back. “They appear in the texts under several aliases. The Sisters. The Mothers. The Daughters. Sometimes, they are known as Trinity.”
“Who are they?”
Lyra flashed him her beautiful smile.
“They come in times of need. They exist to help all non-human races, to keep our species from going extinct on the Earth.”
“You mean, they appeared because we needed them?” Lore asked.
“Not us,” Lyra cried. “Someone else. Another being.”
“Another Immortalist,” Lore gasped. “You mean Sage?”
“I think so,” Lyra replied.
Her smile was so wide, her eyes so bright, that Lore felt his own facial expressions mimic hers, moving the muscles in a way that he wasn’t entirely sure he ever had before. Could they really have found his cousin?
“I knew I was right to follow you,” Lyra laughed. “You will have to learn to trust me.”
Without even thinking, Lore reached out for Lyra. Their fingertips connected and he felt that pulse of electricity race through him. Lore knew then that there was no denying it. What he felt for Lyra was beyond anything he could control.
She laced her fingers through his and began to pull him into her until they were close enough for their lips to meet.
Lore had never experienced anything like it before. In all the two thousand years of his existence, his encounters with women had been purely functional, a way to get what he wanted. He had used people, like Maria, Scarlet’s awful human friend, for his own means. He had never realized what it felt to connect with another being on such a deep and powerful level.
In that moment, lost in his kiss with Lyra, Lore decided to show Sage an ounce of compassion. He realized now that the poor fool was in love, and he understood what that meant. Sage was as weak as a newborn kitten, enthralled by Scarlet. He realized then that Octal had gone about it all the wrong way. By torturing his cousin, he had done nothing more than drive him closer to the girl. He’d made Sage passionately territorial. If Lore wanted to save his race, he had to make sure Sage believed that Scarlet would be safe. He had to trick him into thinking they were on the same side. Suddenly, in that kiss, everything became clear.
He was going to save his race. The Immortalists would not go extinct.
*
Finally, Lore and Lyra reached the island with the crooked tower. Lightning flashes showed them a thick canopy of dark trees. The second they had passed over the water line, Lore could sense Sage’s presence on the island.
“He’s here,” he said, breathlessly. “And if he is here, so is she.”
He could hardly contain the sensation of glee inside of him. Lyra, too, look overwhelmed with joy.
They touched down gently under the forest canopy. The winds still battered them, and it was difficult to make their way through the thick foliage. The sound of the wind through the trees was deafening, and leaves and twigs spiraled round them, torn from their branches. The very trees swayed dangerously, as though the whole forest was being ripped up from the roots.
“This way!” Lore cried, following his senses, the senses that told him Sage was nearby.
They ran together, dodging the forest’s missiles, and suddenly came to a clearing. There, as though in the eye of the storm, lay Sage. He was sleeping, and looking perfectly serene. The wind didn’t even seem to touch him; it was as though a barrier were surrounding him, protecting him.
Lore and Lyra approached.
“Where’s the girl?” Lyra said.
Lore looked about him but there was nothing to see but trees.
“She can’t have left him,” he said. “Their love was too powerful.”
Lyra glanced at the shard of light coming from the tower.
“Perhaps she is in there,” she said. “Perhaps that’s where the Trinity are.”
Lore nodded, then turned back to the prone figure of his swollen, beaten cousin.
“We’ll wait for her return,” he said.
But Lyra didn’t look certain.
“What is it?” Lore questioned her. “What do you know?”
Lyra paced away from him, twisting her hands as she walked.
“The legends say they can bend time,” she says. “That a second for them is a thousand years for us. Or that a thousand years for us can be a second for them. There’s no way of knowing how long the girl will be gone.”
“Then we’ll get her,” Lore said, immediately taking a step toward the tower.
Lyra held a hand out to stop him.
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t work that way. Once they have been called, they are protected. No one else can enter while they are in session.”
Lore felt his hopes fall.
“Time will bounce back into shape once their council is over,” Lyra continued. “But whilst we’re caught up in the magic, there is no way of knowing.”
“Then what do we do?” he said. “We cannot stand here for a thousand years!”
Lyra looked at him, a perturbed expression on her face. It was one that told him she was all out of ideas. It was one that told him that he must make the next decision, that the ball was back in his court. He needed to be the leader once again, and she the follower.
“We’ll take him,” Lore said. “And leave a message for Scarlet. If time bounces back, like you said, then when she finds the note it will be back at this time and place. The Immortalists will still have time to be saved.”
Lyra nodded though she didn’t look too certain.
“If the texts are accurate, I believe that is true,” she said. “When Scarlet returns to this moment, it will be as though no time has passed for her at all. Our timeline, too, will continue at its normal trajectory once we are out of the clutches of the magic.”
Lore set his jaw firm, resolved, at last, in his actions.
“Then we will leave a message for the girl,” he said.
He knelt down on one knee and scratched an image into the mud with a stick. When he was done, he stood back up and wiped the dirt from his pants.
“Where is that?” Lyra asked.
“Our estate on the Hudson River. Scarlet will recognize it immediately.”
“And you’re certain she’ll come?”
Lore tipped his eyes to meet Lyra and knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Scarlet would come for her missing love. She would follow him to the ends of the Earth. He knew, because that was how he felt toward Lyra. For the first time in his two thousand years of life, Lore was in love.
He reached down and picked Sage up in his arms. For the first time, his anger at Sage’s betrayal dissipated slightly. Now he felt sorry for his cousin. He had fallen for the wrong girl, at the wrong time. He would have to sacrifice his love for the good of his race. Perhaps one day he would learn to forgive Lore for what he had to do, though Lore had a suspicion, now that he had felt the power of love, that Sage would never get over the loss of Scarlet. Lore was certain that even two thousand more years of life would do nothing to diminish the grief Sage would feel once his precious love was destroyed. But Lore had no choice
. It was that, or let his race, and the woman he now loved, die.
“Cousin,” he whispered to the unconscious Sage, “your sacrifice will not go unrewarded.”
And with that, he took to the sky, Lyra following behind them.
It was time for the final reckoning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The biplane landed roughly in a field near Caitlin’s grandmother’s house, Caitlin spending the whole two-hour flight gazing anxiously out the window. At one point, she thought she had seen shapes on the horizon—Immortalists chasing them—but these had just turned out to be the silhouettes of birds on the horizon. There had also been a fierce storm raging in the distance behind them, and a strange glowing light that had made Caitlin’s stomach twist and turn. She had ignored all her worries and tried to focus on what was to come.
As the wheels of the plane touched down and it taxied to a halt, Caleb looked over at his wife.
“What are you thinking?” he said.
“Nothing,” Caitlin said distantly. “I’m just thinking.”
“About Scarlet?”
Caitlin nodded and chewed her lip.
“I feel terrible for having left her behind,” she said.
Caleb reached out and stroked his wife’s hand.
“I know,” he replied. “I do too. But if you think you can save her, can cure her, then we will be helping her in the long run.” He looked up at the dark, clear sky and twinkling lights. “Whatever danger she is in now, it will all be over once she’s cured.”
Caitlin wanted to nod, to feel comforted by his words, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hope.
“Come on,” Caleb said. “Let’s get inside.”
They climbed from the biplane and crossed the barren field toward Caitlin’s grandmother’s house. As they went, Caitlin thought of the small leather box that had led her to come here, the one that sat in her grandmother’s attic. She remembered the symbol on top of it, the circle inside a flower of alternating scarlet and blue petals, and the surreal drawing of a face at its center. The very same picture had turned up in the Voynich manuscript when she’d been searching for a cure for Scarlet. The sight of it had made her gasp. The fact that Caitlin’s grandmother had never let her touch the box suggested to Caitlin that it was of great importance. And now here she was, ready to find just how important the box, and the symbol, really was.
