When I met Cloud, we walked up the stairs, shutting the basement door behind us. The Vampire looked worse for wear, his cheeks gaunt. The healthy and human glow he’d acquired in the sepia sun was gone; he now looked paler than ever. We moved to the front door of the forgotten house, past the dusty frames and unused furniture. The floating balls of light danced in the air, illuminating everything in a strange, red glow.
“We cannot keep going like this,” Cloud whispered.
“I know” was all I said.
“It’s not safe for the group to travel at night,” Cloud said, glancing at me, his blue gaze cloudy and cold. How far we had come since that first meeting in the hospital, where he practically scared me half to death. Now I was completely fine with standing a foot from him, with trusting him, regardless of David’s hatred for the undead blood-suckers. “But,” he added, “I could do it.”
I blinked. What in the world was he going on about?
“I could cover more ground, search for other survivors, another place like the town.” Cloud said, “I’m sure they’re out there, somewhere.”
“And what about during the day?” I asked. Having him burn into a crisp was not something I wanted on my conscience. I had enough things I felt responsible for already.
“During the day I will hide from the sunlight.” He gave me a sad smile, his trademark. “There was a time in my life when I did that, you know. Before the nest. It would not be hard to do it again, this time with a purpose.”
It was a while before I muttered, “I couldn’t ask you to do that, Cloud.”
“Good. Because you’re not asking me. I’m offering, because I care about you, about Deb and her baby. I care about you all. If there’s anything I can do that will help, I will gladly do it,” he told me, just as a third presence joined us.
Nat.
And she looked pissed.
“No,” she stated. “You not go.” Her broken English wavered with her tone, her fists curled at her side. Cloud was the only one Nat had left from her nest, the only one of us she’d known longer than a few months.
“Nat,” Cloud said, turning to her. “It is not your decision to make. It’s mine.”
As she began to argue with him, I whispered, “He’s right.” That earned me a hard stare from Nat. “Dagon and I have to stay and hunt. David needs to stay with the group to protect them while we’re gone. You have Penny to worry about. Cloud is the only one who can go.”
“No,” she said again. “No.”
Cloud took her head in his hands, leaning to rest his forehead against hers as he said, “I will be fine. This is not goodbye forever, Natalia. I will come back—hopefully with good news.” When he let her go, Nat blinked back tears as she stormed back into the basement, harshly shutting the door behind her. “I will come back,” he said again, whether to me or to convince himself, I had no idea. He took a step out of the house.
And then another, and then another.
He was halfway down the driveway, past dozens of floating mini-stars when I called out to him, “Wait!” I ran to his side, offering something the old me never would’ve offered. Done it twice so far, and each time—well, the first time it was awful. The second time it wasn’t as bad, but it was a dire situation. Now, I offered it to him because I wanted to. Not because I had to.
I extended my wrist to him, tugging up my faux leather jacket’s sleeve.
“Lexa,” Cloud started, but I shushed him.
“Take some. You’ll be faster,” I said. “Stronger.” When he made no moves to bite me, I added, “Please. It’ll make me feel better about possibly sending you off to your death.” I bit my cheek, waiting for him to just do it already. I lifted my wrist even higher to him.
“Your master would not like this,” Cloud whispered, taking a hesitant step towards me, gently taking my wrist with a cold hand.
“It’s not Dagon’s choice to make. It’s mine.”
With a sigh, Cloud lowered his mouth to my skin, lips brushing my wrist as he said, “Little Lexa…if you insist.” Fangs bared, he sunk his canines into my flesh. I’d say it hurt, but I had felt a lot worse recently. And after all, pain meant hardly anything to the girl who couldn’t die. I’d grown numb to a lot of things.
As he withdrew from my wrist, he licked his lips as he let me go. His eyes were a brighter blue in the nighttime sky, his face less gaunt than it was mere seconds ago. “I will be back,” he said again, and without so much as a goodbye, he vanished from my sight, leaving me alone in the night.
I stood there for a while, wrist dripping blood, until Dagon was by my side. He said nothing, probably having heard what was said. I felt his fingers touch my wrist, healing them, before his hand gripped mine.
The end might be here, I thought, but we will fight until we have no more breaths left to take.
He went to look for survivors, to look for food, anything that would help us. At the time, I agreed. That was over four months ago.
How did he wind up here?
A gust of wind turns my head, and I see that I’m not alone with the petrified creatures. A woman stands nearby, her long hair touching the ground. She would be naked if it weren’t for the roots that are attached to her skin, covering ninety percent of her body, including her face. What bits of skin I can see are a greenish hue.
I know why you come here, the same voice that led us out of Winter’s castle speaks in my head, in the wind, though the woman herself does not move her lips.
I storm closer to her, furious at my friend’s fate. “Release him,” I hiss.
Her lips smirk. Ah, the Child of Night. They have fallen from their graceful beginnings in your world. She walks to Cloud’s figure, running her leafy hands on his stone cheek. They were my first Children. I was unaccustomed to giving life, so I only gave them half. They are…my greatest regret. She looks at me. In your world, it seems, they have taken after your kind. The original Children of Night were much smaller.
“I’d like my friend back,” I say, sounding a bit nicer than I did the first time.
I can give you your friend. I can give you many things that might help you. However—she frowns slightly—there is something you must do for me.
Nothing is ever without strings. “And what is that something?”
The tree woman gestures for my hand, and I slowly lift my injured palm. She waves a hand over it, healing the wound. As the skin knits together, whatever is stuck inside glows green. You have touched my heart, and my seed is now inside of you. Plant it in your realm, and its growth will change your world.
My fingers bend around my palm. It doesn’t feel quite right, but how could it when there’s something stuck inside of me? “How am I supposed to plant it when it’s…”
It will require sacrifice. Her eyes darken. And a lot of blood.
“How do I know that your seed will help my world and not destroy it more?”
It will not destroy your world. If you allow my children to roam free, then your world is doomed.
“Children—” I realize. “—Gaia.”
The woman nods. Yes, though this is not my true form. A host, nothing more. There is a pause as she gives me time to let it sink in.
Gaia, a Primordial, is who I’ve been looking for this entire time. Could a seed really beat the Titans? Seems a little far-fetched, but why not? I’m willing to try it, though I’m not sure what kind of sacrifice—or how much blood—it’ll take.
I can return you to your world, along with your companion, and the Child of Night, if you give me your word that you will plant my seed. I will also awaken the horde. She motions to the field. You cannot enter battle without an army.
“You’ll give me all of that,” I say, incredulous, “just for agreeing to plant your seed?”
The host smiles. It will not be easy to plant. It will only grow in blood—and I believe you know that only my children have enough blood to fill its hunger.
“How—”
You will figure it out. The woman wav
es her bark-covered arm, and behind me, a shimmering portal appears. Through its haziness, I recognize the cave I left so long ago. I hear a scream come out of it. The time for prophecy is nigh. The end is here. With my seed, only you can change it.
At the start of the field, I see Dagon, clothed and worried, hurrying to my side. Before he can ask a million and a half questions, before he can process the petrified army of beings around him—and Cloud—I grab his hand, meet his eyes, and pull him through the portal.
Home, sweet home. Here we come.
Chapter Twelve
Another scream.
I can’t tell who is doing the screaming, but I know it’s a female’s voice. The sun is hot over our heads as we duck into the cave, running past Eve and Mike, who are attempting to shield the few children left from whatever is going on deeper in the cave. Penny stands to the side, mindlessly talking to Nat, trying to get the vegan Vamp’s mind off of blood.
And there’s a lot. So much that I can smell it in the air, and I’m no Vamp.
David stumbles toward me, exhausted and red-eyed. He looks at me, not even happy that I’m here, that I’m back from my lost journey through the Fae realm. How could he when his arms are drenched in bright red blood that’s not his?
I sat in the living room, running my fingers over my chin, watching the exchange between Deb and David in the kitchen. Though I couldn’t quite hear them, I knew what they were saying.
“This…is some kind of joke, right? A way to get back at me when I told you you looked like the girl from Children of the Corn?” David was aghast, yet playful simultaneously. “I didn’t mean it, even if it is true.”
The look of uncomfortableness on Deb’s face was kind of funny, though the subject matter was definitely not. “It’s not a joke, David. I wish it was.”
David fell into a chair. “How? Who—was it your twisted family?” His fingers curled into fists. “Just say the word and I’ll portal there. If they’re not already dead, I’ll—”
“It wasn’t any of them,” she said. “It’s hard to explain, but…there is no father.”
“No father? How can there not be a father?”
Deb stared at him. “Didn’t you say your mother was a Christian?”
“One of her phases, yes.” Her eyebrows lifted, and suddenly my old friend put it together. “You don’t mean…” When she nodded, David abruptly stood. “Excuse me.” And then he walked out of the front door, into the sepia sun.
I excused myself from the board game and inched my way past the group of kids. I came to Deb in the kitchen, finding that her eyes were watery, tears running down her face. “You told him,” I whispered, already knowing.
“I suppose he could’ve taken it worse,” she muttered, wiping her eyes.
“Do I need to beat him up for you?”
Something real shined through, and she smiled. Maybe because she’s drawn something of the future, or maybe she’s just hopeful. “No. We’ll be okay, Lexa.” Through the smile, Deb’s teeth showed. Slightly crooked, but full of character. They matched her crazy amount of freckles and her oft grandmother-like wardrobe. “No matter what happens, we’ll be okay.”
I took a step away from her weird craziness. Had she looked outside lately? Had she seen our group? Did she remember what happened in the town? I was pretty sure being okay was off the table, but for her sake, I’d try to fake it.
I pointed my thumb to the door. “I’ll go talk to him.” Before she could argue or tell me not to, I hurried out of the house and onto its front porch, where David leaned on the wooden railing, picking at the peeling paint. I hit him in his shoulder, harder than a playful tap, but not hard enough to do harm.
David recoiled, dramatically saying, “Ouch, Lexa! That’s going to bruise for sure.”
“I just came out here, you know, wondering why you’re being a dick.”
“A…” David couldn’t say the word. He always had trouble with penises and dicks. A weird quirk. And it wasn’t because he was homophobic; when I got older, he’d tell me about some of his past relationships—men, women. When you were as old as he was, the body hardly mattered. It was the inside that did. Didn’t change his quirkiness, though. “I’m reacting as anyone would when told that—” He got quiet. “If that baby doesn’t have a father, then…then it isn’t good. Am I supposed to be happy that the person I like is part of some ancient religious prophecy about the end of the world?”
I coughed. “Well, when you put it like that, no.” I leaned my back against the railing beside him, arms crossing. Through the window, I could see Deb in the kitchen, holding her slightly protruding stomach, getting herself together. “But it’s Deb. She might’ve come from an insane cult who kick-started the apocalypse, and she’s a little peculiar, but you can’t be mad at her. You got to love her.”
David sighed. “It’s not easy. She’s…”
“Part human, I know. Listen, we’re not that different from you. Minus the whole ability to do spells and stuff, and the whole Warlock mark, we’re pretty much the same.”
A twinge of a smile appeared on his lips as he said, “You tried to set us up when we first met. When she was just a stranger you brought to my shop, while the Horsemen were rising. At the time, I thought you were just being your stupid, inappropriate, ridiculous self.”
I jostled his shoulder. “Hey, I take offense to two of those three things.”
It was hard to focus on Deb and David and their drama, but I cared about them. I wanted them both to be happy, and if that meant being happy with each other, then I’d be more than willing to nag them both until they got together. At least they’d be happy. Me, well…I didn’t know whether I’d ever be happy again.
“It’s the end of the world,” David said, gazing out at the empty street. “The last thing on my mind should be a relationship.”
“If this is the end, and we’re all going to die anyway,” I spoke the truth, “I think you should focus on what you want, what’ll make you happy. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be selfish in the end.”
David grinned. “You’d know a lot about being selfish, wouldn’t you? Always stealing my food and trying to clean up my shop, making fun of my emoji pajamas…” As we both laughed, he hooked an arm around me, leaning his head on top of mine. For a moment, we stood there, quietly contemplating our lives and what they’ve come to. “If there’s anyone I’d gladly march to my death with, it’s you.”
“I love you, David.”
“I love you, too.” David quickly got off me, cracking his neck and knuckles. “Now, that’s enough with the sappy shit. I got to get back in there and assure Deb that I’m fine with her being a part of the Second Coming.”
“Go get her, tiger.” I chuckled as he ran inside the house, turning directly into the kitchen, where Deb still stood by herself. David said something, and Deb laughed. I taught the Warlock well, it seemed.
My heart breaks when David’s eyes meet mine. Through our unspoken bond, I know exactly what he feels. His arms, coated in blood, shake, his forehead drenched in sweat. My friend has never looked so worn out.
“David,” I whisper his name, “what…”
He moves aside, and I’m able to see Deb’s body on the ground. Her legs open, knees up. She wears no pants, but her stomach is covered with a blanket. Everything is stained with blood. Her skin, normally a pale, Irish color, is even whiter. Pallid to the extreme, her hair stuck to her face, her eyes closed.
I shout her name, but my ears don’t register the sound. I sprint to her side, falling on my knee, gripping her hand. How did this happen? How did we get to this? Why wasn’t I here to help?
Is Deb…dead?
I don’t think I can handle that.
Below us, the earth rumbles. An earthquake of extreme proportions, wild and hungry. Dagon is at my heel, stating, “We must go.”
“I’m not going,” I say, biting back tears. A slight motion, very small muscle movement alerts me to the open slivers in Deb’s eyes. S
he’s holding on, barely.
The prophetic girl smiles, and it’s anything but a happy one. “I told them,” her voice is light, so light I can hardly hear it, “that you’d come back. They didn’t believe me.” She winces, and I see that the blood staining the blanket is fresh, still wet. “I told David to cut it out, but he can’t. Please—” She uses all her strength to squeeze my hand, and it’s not much. “—do it.” When I hesitate, when I don’t move, she adds, “We’ll be all right.”
Hearing those words snaps me into focus. “Somebody get me a knife.” Another earthquake, this one even worse. I nearly fall onto Deb, catching myself at the last second. Dagon tries to pull me away, saying again how we have to go, but I push him off. “Get me a knife!”
Dagon hauls me to my feet, and I kick and scream, freezing when I see that we’re not alone in the cave. A black goddess stands with her hands on her hips. She takes my place, clutching Deb’s hand. “Go,” Aphrodite says with a wink. “We got this, sugarplum.”
“We?” I echo, turning to see Athena moving from David’s side.
Giving me a nod, Athena appraises my outfit, my wedding dress. All she has to do is wave her hand, and the white, snowy gown disappears, replaced by battle armor similar to hers. Her golden boon rests on my wrist, over my Mark, once more, the opposite hand where Demeter’s wheat ring sits. My left palm twitches, Gaia’s seed reacting to the magic. Everything from the Fae realm is gone, save for the diamond necklace.
“Better,” Athena says. “Go. I have seen many childbirths. I know what to do.”
“I thought Zeus—”
“Sometimes doing what is right means going against the authority.”
“Save her,” I say, feeling Dagon’s hand intertwine with mine. A portal threatens to swallow us, and I repeat vehemently, “Save her!” As the fires take us to our destination, I hear Athena’s response.
A Reckoning so Sweet (The Reckoning Book 3) Page 16
