by Meg Ripley
“Jeremy,” she wheezed.
“Just a bit further,” he promised as he led her deeper into the woods, ducking under a low-hanging branch.
The trees began to thin, and just ahead of them, Becca noticed a glimmer of late afternoon sun shining brightly, like an invitation to another world. Her breath was heavy and her lungs burned from her gasps.
Jeremy finally slowed just before the opening of the trees and turned to block her view. Taking both of her hands, he waited for her to catch her breath. Becca tried to peek over his shoulder as her chest heaved for air, but he shifted to keep his surprise hidden.
“Close your eyes,” he finally instructed when her breaths were almost back to normal.
She raised an eyebrow skeptically, but did as she was told.
Slowly, Jeremy led her forward until she could feel the sunlight on her face again. She was tempted to open her eyes, but trusted him and kept them closed, even when she heard the snap of a branch above her.
They stopped in what Becca assumed was the middle of the clearing, and her heart fluttered with anticipation. Her ears sharpened and focused on every sound of the forest: the wind rustling through the treetops, the crunch of animals moving through the underbrush, the songs of birds perched high above…
A moment later, Becca realized that she wasn’t able to hear the cawing of the crows that Jadon had been heckling earlier. She began to open her mouth to ask Jeremy about this when he dropped his hands away from hers and told her to open her eyes.
Above them, wildflowers of every color began to rain down in the small clearing they were standing in. Looking up, Becca saw that the brightly colored autumn trees were filled with crows diligently tossing flowers out into the air. She gasped as she realized that the brothers had been gathering and instructing the birds to create this surprise for her.
Overcome by their gesture, she flung her arms around Jeremy, who had a crown of flowers forming on his head, and she kissed him deeply while the flowers continued to fall around them.
CHAPTER SIX
It was just before dawn when Becca sat up in bed, her heart racing as beads of sweat poured from her forehead and the back of her neck. Her hands were cold and clammy as she wiped the moisture from her face.
The sheets around her were soaked, and as she reached down to feel them, she realized that the bed was empty. A sick churning began in her stomach as she tried to look around the dark motel room in hopes of seeing the figure of either Jeremy or Jadon. Tentatively, she called out for them, her voice shaking and her lips quivering.
When there was no answer, Becca climbed out of the bed and picked up the first item of clothing she found on the floor. She slipped the t-shirt over her head and began to creep around the room, her hands reaching in search of either brother as she softly called out their names.
Suddenly, her chest seized as a scream tore through the air outside, ending in a thunderous crash. Fearing for Jeremy and Jadon, she ran out to see the crumpled body of a stranger stuck in the shattered windshield. His limbs were turned at unnatural angles and blood began to pool where shards of glass protruded from his head, arms and torso.
Jeremy appeared out of the sky, transforming to his human form as his feet hit the ground, and rushed over to Becca. He held her shoulders tightly as she stood there in shock, trying to comprehend the scene in front of her.
“Becca, are you alright?”
After two more repetitions of his question, Becca was finally able to muster her voice to speak. “Wh—What is going on?”
“The Order of Saint George,” he explained. “We need to get out of here.”
Everything was a whirlwind as she was ushered back into the hotel room. Becca felt as if time had slowed; she was moving at a snail’s pace as Jeremy and Jadon rushed past her in a flurry of activity. In the time it took her to pack up and put on a pair of jeans, the brothers had already moved the man’s body and had completely reset the room to its original state.
“Get in,” Jeremy said as he took the bags from Becca and threw them into the back of the Escalade they had been driving for the last few days.
Becca felt as if she had been watching all of this from afar, like a movie being played out right before her eyes. As she climbed into the back seat, she’d finally been able to connect the puzzle pieces of what had just happened. Despite their diligence to remain hidden, the Order of Saint George had somehow picked up on their trail.
After their previous encounter with the Order, Becca wasn’t entirely surprised that they had still been on their radar. What did surprise her, however, was the Ladon brothers’ handling of the situation. Although Becca had assumed that her kidnappers from the Order had been killed, it had never been said outright and was easy to dismiss. There was no denying what they had just done to the man they had encountered tonight.
The image of the distorted body would not leave her mind as Jeremy and Jadon took their places in the front seats and drove off into the night. She sat perfectly still—in shock—while Jadon and Jeremy discussed their next move.
Their bickering slowly brought Becca out of her stupor, but the release of her shock was not pleasant. Becca’s body began to shake uncontrollably. Her breathing was fast and shallow, as if her lungs no longer knew how to expand. Her skin began to burn with a sudden fever as hysteria built inside of her.
“You—you killed him,” she whispered to herself as she wrapped her arms around her body, clenching her fists in an attempt to control the shaking.
The first corpse she had ever seen was that of her great-grandmother; her body resting peacefully in a polished casket with wreaths of flowers, pictures of her life, and cards from loved ones scattered around her. This recent body was grotesque, decorated with shards of glass. There was nothing peaceful about this death, and Becca was sure that witnessing the demise of this man was more violent than anything else she had experienced thus far.
The edges of her vision dimmed as she began to rock in her seat. The voices of Jeremy and Jadon seemed to be echoing from the far end of a tunnel. Just then, Jadon turned around and their eyes locked.
“Jeremy,” he said, “pull over.”
Jeremy exited from the highway and pulled into the nearest gas station. Climbing in the back seat, he first tried to hold Becca, but his touch felt like fire and she flinched.
While she continued to convulse, she stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the windshield. Back and forth she rocked, holding on to herself...back and forth...back and forth...
It was ten minutes before Becca began to calm down, and twenty before she was able to reach out and take Jeremy’s hand. He sat diligently by her side the entire time, softly repeating over and over again how much he loved her and how he would keep her safe.
Jadon had stepped away to make a phone call while Becca had her panic attack. He was still on the phone, arguing in hushed tones with whomever was on the other end of the line, even after Becca had calmed down and buried herself in Jeremy’s arms.
“We still need to move,” Jadon said as he came back to the car. “Victoria has a place for us to lay low in Kansas City.”
“Alright,” Jeremy nodded to his brother as he squeezed his arm around Becca’s shoulder. “You drive. I’ll stay back here.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Victoria was waiting just outside the front door of her midtown house when they arrived. She stood with her hands on her hips, showing off the snarky T-shirt she wore which proclaimed: Clothes Before Bros. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore no make-up, though this did not detract from her impeccable natural beauty.
When Becca stepped out of the car, Victoria rushed forward and her long thin arms wove and tangled around her. Victoria hugged her close and observed her from an arm’s length before she hugged her again. All the while she chattered, explaining how glad she was that Becca was alright.
She ignored both Jeremy and Jadon as she pulled Becca up the front
steps to the house. While she was turned away, Becca thought she heard Victoria mutter something about “reckless endangerment” and other things about the brothers. She was grateful for Victoria’s genuine concern as a friend, but worried a little that maybe she was a little too passionate about the situation.
“How are you, really,” Victoria asked Becca once they were safely inside, away from the boys.
“Fine, I guess,” Becca responded with a shrug of her shoulders. “I mean, we’re still on the run, but it’s not too bad.”
Victoria let out a heavy sigh. “Becca, sweetie, they killed a man in front of you. That has to be pretty traumatic, especially considering everything else you’ve gone though.”
“I know,” Becca said looking away from Victoria to admire the ornate rug beneath her feet as they stood in the entryway of her house. One of the brightly colored threads had been snagged and stuck up in peculiar angle. Becca focused on this to avoid the line of questioning before her.
“I’m not going to make you talk to me,” Victoria said as she held Becca’s hands in her own, “but you need to open up to someone. Keeping all of these emotions bottled up like this will trigger more episodes like that panic attack you had this morning. You can’t ignore what you’ve been through.”
“Right,” Becca replied, mustering up a half-smile. Jeremy and Jadon entered the front door carrying luggage, and she retreated into the living room where she sank into a leather armchair, exhausted from the day.
She closed her eyes but couldn’t erase the image of the contorted man from her mind. She envisioned those dark dead eyes focusing on hers, blaming her for the broken bones and glass that protruded from his body, like some grotesque porcupine.
“Becca.” Jeremy’s voice startled her and her eyes snapped open, bringing her back to the present.
Her eyes were wide with fright and she stared around wildly at the foreign surroundings. She momentarily forgot she was in Victoria’s house as Jeremy held her by the shoulders, trying to calm her. She began to relax again as she remembered and took in the details of the room around her. Victoria’s house was decorated in a hipster chic, with purposely mismatched furniture and a mix of modern and vintage elements.
“Are you alright?” Jeremy asked as he held her.
Becca nodded, but felt like collapsing, feeling as if her self-control was spiraling cataclysmically.
“I’m just tired,” she deflected. “I should go take a nap for a bit.”
“Okay.” Jeremy helped her to her feet and led her upstairs to a bedroom that Victoria had readied for them.
The bed had one of those old metal frames that groaned when she laid on it. Becca crawled in with her street clothes still on and pulled the white sheet over herself.
Jeremy leaned over her and kissed her forehead. “We’ll all be downstairs if you need anything.”
Becca nodded as she pulled the sheet tighter around her shoulders, and Jeremy headed downstairs, closing the door behind him.
She wasn’t actually tired in the sense that she wanted to sleep, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle being around anyone else at the moment. Becca turned over and stared at the ceiling of the bedroom.
The worry that the others had for her was fierce and genuine, but it didn’t prevent her from feeling that her breakdown was a burden. She told herself that Jeremy and Jadon had been through the same things she had—and probably more—in their lifetime. It didn’t seem fair to her that she should be the one who worried them so much with her daintiness. Jeremy and Jadon had literally killed someone to keep her safe. Shouldn’t she be grateful?
CHAPTER EIGHT
The figure in Becca’s sketchbook looked like a fallen angel, crumpled and broken, yet radiantly beautiful. Her pencil moved lightly across the page, filling in contours and shadows. Each line seemed to take an eternity to draw, but gradually, the picture was beginning to form.
She slowly realized that the broken figure she’d been drawing was resting in a bed of shattered glass. A sense of horror set in as she continued to draw. It was a disaster of her own creation and she could not stop her hands; they were possessed with a purpose: to finish the image.
The details were intricate. The drawing felt almost real to Becca, as if she could reach out and touch the broken man before her. Her hands ached from the effort, but she was finally nearing the end of the image, the face of the man.
Becca could clearly see the face of the unknown man that had died before her. His dark, beady eyes and military buzz cut hair; she remembered every detail, down to the freckles that dusted his cheeks.
The face that she drew was not his, however. It was Jeremy’s.
She dropped the book and pencil on the bed in horror. Red splotches began to appear on the page, seeping through the paper where the body had been pierced by glass.
Becca scrambled off the bed to get away from the bloody book and stepped knee-deep into a pool of hot, sticky blood. A scream tore through her body as she slipped and fell backwards, but just before she hit the floor, she was caught by strong arms with clawed hands.
Becca looked up into the scaly face with burning blue eyes. “Jeremy?”
The scaly mouth opened to reveal rows of shark teeth before releasing Becca to fall through absolute, infinite darkness.
The wind whipped around her and she heard Jeremy’s voice in it, calling her name. She looked down below her, and saw the car fast approaching. Becca screamed and covered her face with her arms, bracing for impact.
She jerked, opening her eyes again as the harsh light of the bedroom poured around her. Jadon’s face hovered above hers, his hand stroking her cheek; his touch was warm against her damp skin. Her heart visibly pounded from her chest and her veins pulsed hard against his light touch on her neck.
“You were calling out,” he said.
Jadon’s eyes were dark and stormy with emotion and his brow furrowed. Becca could see how much pain it was causing him to see her so broken.
“I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her eyes.
Jadon held her chin and gently ordered her to look at him. Reluctantly, she did. His eyes were so impossibly blue and small tears formed at the corners. Becca resisted the urge to start crying herself.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said firmly. “This isn’t your fault, Bunny.”
She flung her arms around his neck as the tears began to spill uncontrollably. Jadon held her tightly as she sobbed, “But I’m so weak.”
“No, no, no,” he assured her as he rubbed her back. “There is nothing weak about you.”
“B—but I am,” she hiccupped.
“Never.”
Becca continued to cry for a solid five minutes. The tears seemed to be endless. Jadon held her close, doing his best to quell her shaking as she heaved with heavy, shuddering breaths.
He kissed the top of her head and she asked, “Where is Jeremy?”
“Getting a lecture from Victoria.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice and Becca looked up to see the corner of his mouth hinting upwards.
“What’s so funny,” she asked while wiping the last remaining tears from her cheeks.
“Not funny,” Jadon corrected, “just that his lecture is well deserved.”
Becca was mildly confused, but then Victoria’s shriek reverberated through the house.
“You’re impossible!”
Becca and Jadon exchanged a glance. Becca could only imagine how terrifying Victoria must be when she is angered.
She didn’t have much time to wonder why Victoria was so angry in the first place; Victoria’s angry heels began to pound up the stairs and Becca instinctively held Jadon tighter. Her steps stopped right outside the bedroom door for a moment before they turned and pounded down the hallway.
Becca breathed a sigh of relief and Jadon chuckled. Realizing she had sighed, Becca laughed as well. The two of them were in a fit, giggling over nonsense, by the time the bedroom door opened and J
eremy came in.
His brooding scowl turned to perplexity when he encountered their laughter. He eyed them curiously, but even his special connection with his brother yielded no answer as to what they found so funny. Jeremy’s furrowed brow only served to make Becca and Jadon laugh harder and he gave up trying to understand the situation, opting to leave the room instead.
When their mirth ended, Jadon stood and offered his hand to Becca, “Would you like to assist me in making dinner?”
“Not sure how much help I’ll be,” she smiled as she placed her hand in his, “but I’ll come watch.”
Jadon led her downstairs and set her up on the kitchen counter while he began to wash vegetables. One of the worst parts about being on the road was that Jadon had not been able to cook from most of their hotel rooms. They ate at decent restaurants, but nothing compared to his home-cooked meals.
Becca swung her legs back and forth as she watched him move deftly about the kitchen. She thought that even Gordon Ramsay wouldn’t be able to criticize his creations.
Jeremy wandered into the kitchen. He smiled broadly when he saw Becca perched on the counter and came over to put his arms around her. “Are you feeling better?” He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and she nodded, nuzzling into his neck.
“I had a horrible dream, but they say laughter is the best medicine, right? I think I’ll be alright.”
“I still don’t know what was sooo funny to you guys, but I’m glad I could be of help. Jadon, what’s for dinner?”
“Lemon orzo salad,” he said as he dramatically dumped the pasta into the pot of boiling water and returned to cutting the onions.
“So, what were you and Victoria fighting about anyway?” asked Becca.
His eyes dropped, and for once, he was the one who blushed. “Where we should go next since we obviously can’t stay here.”