“How do you have magic?” I ask as a weight of disbelief presses on my chest.
Her face scrunches up like she doesn’t understand the question, but in her gaze it’s obvious that she’s toying with me.
“You didn’t have it earlier, when I invaded Ethryeal City right under your nose,” I say, my tone a little too uneven for my liking. Keep her talking, I tell myself. Anything to stall. To give the others time. To give myself time to come up with a plan better than what I have… which is nothing at all.
“It isn’t rocket science,” Clara says with a lowered brow. She sounds as if my ignorance has offended her.
“The Exanimator?” I ask with furrowed brows. “Who did you kill for those powers?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says with a superior smile.
My hands are shaking. My skin is ten degrees too hot. I could rip her hair out right now. Kill her even. But since I can’t, I choose to breathe in and out, trying to remain calm and collected. Trying to follow Sterling’s advice. I can make it through without my powers. I just have to be on my game.
“Shouldn’t you be handling the United Nations right about now?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on her. “They’re going to catch on once the Darkyns and Watchmen go head to head.”
Her smile falls flat. She turns to Bael. “I have her weapons. So long as that rope stays intact, then she’s as harmless as a fly.”
“Does that mean you’re done playing with our little mouse then, love?” he asks, smirking at her.
“I was done ages ago.”
And with that, she opens the door and heads down the hall to wherever Edgar disappeared off to, leaving just Weldon, Bael, and me.
I WROTE A PAPER MY SENIOR year about human habits and why people are resistant to change.
Safety.
The unknown terrifies most humans, and not just the unknown, but also the difference in surroundings. It’s anything out of the norm that terrifies us, because we’re creatures built on our daily habits that comfort us. We know inside those habits who we are, without question. And even though I wrote and aced that assignment, I never fully understood it, because change never really bothered me before. I didn’t understand how someone could be scared to make up their mind about something and stick to it. How venturing into the unknown could be so scary.
I never understood until now.
Not until I’ve realized just how little of a grip I have on this colossal change of pace.
Bael tinkers with a small intercom on the desk in the center of the room after Clara leaves, wearing a fashionable grin that sets my skin on edge. He presses the small, red button, calling to someone named Julius.
“Sir?” the other man’s voice says through the tiny box.
“I’d like an update on the Unholy Seal, Julius,” Bael says with more cheer than I can stomach. “We have company tonight, and I’d hate to be a bad host by having our festivities delayed. Good news would be appreciated.”
My ears feel like they want to detach from my body, just so they can be sure they hear every detail.
There’s a shuffling noise coming from inside the tiny box, and then some muttering.
“Do speak up, Julius,” Bael says, picking at his nails. “He’s always stumbling over his words,” he says over his shoulder to me.
As if I care. As if I’m a part of this moment and not shoved into it.
“Well, sir, the Darkyn Leaders… they’re umm… well, they aren’t satisfied.” I can almost picture the man, or whatever he is, on the other side, shaking in fear.
Bael stops picking at his fingers. Drops his hands on the table, exhaling loudly like a small, whiny child. “I don’t care about the Darkyn Leaders,” he says shortly. “They can take up their issues with Clara. She’s the one who roped them into agreeing to this anyhow.”
Thomas’ scarred face crosses my mind.
“They want a break. They say they’ve been digging for two days straight and still haven’t found it.”
Bael tosses an impatient smile over his shoulder at me, and then turns back to the speaker. “If they stop digging, they die. Simple enough, right?”
He pushes the end button.
“You sure know how to get under Clara’s skin,” Bael says as he snaps his fingers at Weldon. He doesn’t even have to use words to bend Weldon to his will, and it makes me want to hurl. Scream. Cry.
But I just swallow it down. “I could say the same about her,” I say as Weldon nearly drags me forward, through the opened door. Another long, narrow, metal tunnel that opens up to other tunnels, like a nest for ants. “Having issues with the seal?”
“Nothing that can’t be handled,” he says, straightening out his suit. He looks over at me so quickly, with such renewed energy, that it almost startles me. “You know, I find you highly interesting. You’re defiance, I mean,” he says as we make a left.
I try not to gag. “I’m glad I interest you.”
I’m counting steps. Burning turns in my brain. Praying that I won’t forget when the time comes.
“You know, if it weren’t for the need to awaken Mourdyn, I think I’d let you go, just because of your spirit.”
“How comforting,” I retort. “And why do you want to awaken him? Just so you can answer to another?”
He purses his lips in thought. Looks to the ceiling for a short moment. “Have you ever been in timeout? Kept in one area for a long period of time, feeling like if someone would give you a hammer, then you would gladly bash your own brains out from boredom?”
“Can’t say that I have,” I lie, wishing he’d get to the point and not draw out my focus. We make a right, walk for fifteen steps, and then make another left. My numbers are beginning to dance in my brain, mixing together in a mosh pit I’m not sure I can handle.
“Shame. It’s a great way to get to know yourself. But anyway, my point is, that’s what being the king of hell is like.” He pauses. Looks left, then right, like he can’t remember which way we’re supposed to go, and then turns left. “Not all the time,” he rushes to add. “Just most of it.”
Bitterness floods my tongue. “So what? You’re saying waking up the one person who nearly ended the world as we know it is merely entertainment for you?” I can barely get the words out. My skin feels like it’s one size too small. “That’s possibly the most twisted thing I think I’ve heard to date.”
“Really?” he asks, wearing a grin that suggests I just complimented him.
I don’t reply.
He stops in front of a metal door that looks just like all the others. There’s nothing on it, no number or name to signify it from the rest, and my heart plunges through the floor. “This is it,” he says, reaching for the handle.
He pushes the door open to a small room with metal walls that looks exactly like the room Clara kept me in for my so called ‘training.’ On the mat is a wooden chair sitting dead center.
“Sit,” he orders.
Every muscle in my body tightens, resisting his order, but somehow, I manage to walk forward. Force my legs to bend despite their growing need to turn and run.
“Remember, if you try any funny business, your parents…” He drags his thumb across his throat, and I almost wish I had the power to wish it true. “Weldon will stand guard,” he continues, “and when it’s time for you to break the seal, I’ll summon him. There’s beauty, I think, in using him as your watchdog, don’t you think? A subtle hint at just what the affinity partnership really is. Slavery. One person bending to another.”
I just stare at him, at a loss for words.
“No? Oh well.” He pauses midway through the doorway and says, “Oh, and PS, I do hope you enjoy the layout. I went above and beyond to ensure that it matched your cell back in Ethryeal City. I thought it’d help stir up some of those stubborn emotions in you.”
Echoes of his torturous, high-pitched laughter surround me as the door shuts behind him.
The moment it does, my eyes poke at Weldon. “I know you’r
e in there,” I say, studying him for any sign of my friend.
He stares distantly at me.
“Weldon, you have to snap out of this. We have to get out of here, and I can’t very well do that when you’re off playing the wounded bird.”
Still nothing.
“Weldon, damn it, I swear I’m going to kick your ass. Wake up!”
My chest is rising and falling as I hang on the seconds between us, praying for some small, impossible miracle that doesn’t come.
“You can’t let him win.” My voice cracks on the last word and my head hangs a little as the thoughts I’ve tried so hard to dodge suddenly grab me by the throat and pin me down.
What did I get us into? Really? I have no idea where we are. No way to really help Jaxen should he show up. I want to curl up into a ball, but I can’t move with the ropes holding me in place.
“Weldon, please. I… I need you right now,” I say through tearstained words. I look up at him as anger courses through my veins. “This isn’t you, Weldon!” I yell at him, struggling against the ropes. If I could just get up… just get close enough to him.
He stands with his arms crossed, still staring in the distance, and it’s then that I notice the small, blinking light in the corner. The camera centered on me, most likely with Clara standing on the other side… watching me… just like before.
I struggle harder, screaming out against the magic searing through my jacket. “Weldon!” I yell at him again and again and again until I realize… it’s no use.
We’re stuck.
Lost.
Hopeless.
And I signed us up for this the moment I chased after a small, black cat.
TIME HAS LOST ITS VALUE.
It doesn’t exist when you’re stuck inside hell. Literally.
There’s only my imagination, which has decided to grow wings and take flight, soaring my thoughts higher and higher, further away from my grasp. A million possibilities flourish within my brain. I wonder about Jaxen. About what he’s going through right now. About what’s above me that could possibly hurt him. I wonder about the Watchmen out there and what’s happening to them now that Bael and Clara have declared war.
But most of all, I wonder when Bael will send for me. When Weldon will escort me to the Unholy Seal. What time it will be when the Veil falls and the human race as we know it will be exposed and defenseless against the paranormal that will rise up in a swarm of fury and greed.
I think my insecurities about this could eat me out of house and home.
I try to reach out to them. Pray that someone will hear me, but it’s no use. They can’t hear me this far away.
After letting out the defeat through a small batch of tears, I decide that turning off my emotions is the most beneficial thing for my safety right now. I need to be on point. Need to come up with some sort of plan. But even with coming to this conclusion, I still know that deep down there probably won’t be any way out of this, and maybe it’s better that way. Maybe, after I break the seal, I can use what I have inside me to destroy this place from the inside.
Maybe that could be my gift to the human race. My way of apologizing for screwing up life as we know it.
Because if I’d have only hesitated from the beginning… if I’d have refused to put the Dagger of Retribution back together, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.
With my eyes on the blinking, red light, I swallow down my pain. My tears.
And I shut down.
“FAYE.”
It’s Jaxen. His fingers are brushing through my hair, his body pressed against my back. Warmth that feels as exquisite as laying out in the sun on a cool spring day radiates between us. I feel my muscles waking, begging to be used, so I push my arms and legs out, stretching every tendon, and then roll to face him.
He drags a finger down my cheek, over my mouth, where he takes his time toying with my bottom lip. And then he leans in, presses his soft lips against mine, spreading warmth through my body.
The light streaming in from the crack in the curtains angles across his squared cheekbones. Brushes across his face. I want to freeze this image of him. Capture it and put it up with all my other photos of my favorite moments in life, because in this moment, I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anything so beautiful. So perfect.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, resting my forehead against his.
“I’ve been here the whole time.” His finger is on my chest now, pointing to my heart.
I don’t know why, but a sudden sadness washes over me, and I pull him closer to me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, trailing his fingers along my spine, sending chills up my body.
“I don’t know. I’m just… sad.”
He leans back to look at me. “You can’t be, Faye. You shouldn’t be anything.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“I mean, you shut it off. Remember? It’s time to think,” he says, his eyes darkening.
“Shut what off? What are you talking about?”
“Your emotions, Faye.”
I blink, and suddenly we’re not lying in bed anymore under the safety of covers. Suddenly, we’re standing opposite each other inside the training room back at the Academy. Dummies stand behind him with daggers decorating their weak points. He’s standing in the center of the mat, just like he did when we first met each other, pacing in front of me like a teacher would with arms folded behind his back.
“Your enemy is bigger than you. He’s also more powerful,” Jaxen says. “But you… you’re smarter, Faye. You have to use your intelligence, and you can’t use it when you let your emotions get in the way.”
And it hits me like a sledgehammer.
Bael. Clara. Weldon.
“I’m not,” I say, already feeling defeated. “I led us into a trap, and now Weldon is lost to me. This isn’t how I planned this to go.”
“Maybe not, but the endgame is still the same. Adjust to your surroundings. Make a new plan. You’re not thinking, Faye,” Jaxen says.
“I am thinking,” I say, feeling a hot rush of irritation, “and there’s no way out of this. I’m stuck. Literally. He’s going to kill my parents if I try anything. And even if I could get out of these ropes, I’m not sure what to do. I’ve already shut my emotions off, and still I have nothing.”
“Yes, you do,” Jaxen says. “Do you think your mother and father would want this for you? Do you think they put themselves in the position they did, just for you to give up? We’re Watchmen, Faye. We don’t give up. We don’t give in. Not even if it means calling Bael’s bluff.”
“His bluff?”
“If he kills them, he has nothing over you. If you shut your emotions off and do what you set out to do, he can’t stop you. You’re the only thing between yourself and victory. Let go of the limits you think you have and become who you really are.”
“And Weldon?”
Jaxen steps up to me. Cups the side of my face. I lean into his hand, closing my eyes, enjoying the rough calluses against my cheek. Enjoying his warmth that feels so real.
“Weldon just needs a kick in the ass. He’s being dramatic. You know him,” Jaxen says against my ear.
“I do,” I say, wishing this wasn’t a dream. Wishing he was real.
“It’s time, Faye,” he says.
I nod against his shoulder.
“Wake up.”
So I do.
MY EYES OPEN.
Weldon’s still staring straight ahead like a good little demon. And that has to change.
I focus on the ropes binding me. Focus on the spell woven into the fabric and, little by little, I scratch at it, using the leftover energy stored inside of me from pulling on the Darkyns in the forest. The spell is thick, but it’s a standard spell. A spell that’s easily broken.
A cocky move from a witch who thinks she’s holding my leash. How typical. Clara’s so smug in thinking she has me pinned. She knows how I’ll react under pressure. Believes I’ll crumple like
before under the weight of my grief.
But with no emotions, there’s nothing driving me but pure determination.
When I feel the spell dissipate, I turn my attention to the camera. I don’t want them to know what I’m up to. I need to keep the upper hand by appearing to still be under their manipulation, and the only way I can do that is by making them see what I want them to see. I chant a cloaking spell, tweaking it a little so it shows me still sitting in the chair.
With a deep breath, I stand, letting the ropes fall to the ground. I march over to Weldon and slap him hard across the face.
He doesn’t move.
I turn his head, making sure his eyes are set on mine, and then I smack him again, this time using a little volation. It sears against his skin in a rippling wave.
His eyes falter a little. He blinks, and then returns to standing there.
Volation… it works. I shock him… again and again… but it isn’t enough. I have to go deeper.
“I swear I’m going to kick your ass for leaving me,” I say, determined to wake him up. I steady my feet. Grab his shoulders. Tap into the energy flowing all around us to feed my volation. The energy is dark. Demented. Twisted.
But there’s more than enough of it.
Closing my eyes, I open myself up to Weldon, forcing my way into his heavily guarded mind. I shove through wall after wall, riding on the waves of volation. But the further I go, the harder it gets.
I cross an ocean filled with all the tears he’s held onto for far too long. Force my way through a field made of spikes tipped with the poison of all his pain. Obstacle after obstacle, I propel through, until I finally find him.
He’s standing in a barren, grey room with his nose in a corner.
My heart tightens.
“Weldon?”
He doesn’t turn.
Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3) Page 33
