Rebekah stepped up beside Cyrus and me. Her expression remained as composed as ever, but her back was rigid and straight. She glanced at Cyrus. “How did this trespasser get through the gate?”
Cyrus shook his head. “No idea. Bolt cutters on the padlock, maybe. Or they drove straight through it.”
“Then whoever’s driving must want something from us very badly.” Rebekah’s eyes cut to me, and I realized what she was implying. Whoever was driving toward Eclipse had come for me.
I experienced a moment of panic, but it evaporated when I recognized Blake’s 4Runner.
“Blake!”
I bolted toward his SUV before he’d even come to a full stop. Then he was out the door and crushing me in a hug. I hugged him back fiercely, realizing this was the first time I’d been able to touch him without fear of hurting him.
His mouth next to my ear breathed my name, “Kenna,” as though he wanted to remind me of it. Remind me who I was.
I buried my face in his neck.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded against him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ll tell you in the car. We have to go.” His tone was grim.
I pulled away from him. “Why? What’s wrong?”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “It’s Erin,” he said. “She’s sick again. She … she needs you.”
I stopped breathing, and when I started again it was too fast. I hadn’t had an asthma attack since I’d culled that first wildflower with Cyrus. I’d barely even thought about my asthma. Every day I had grown stronger and healthier. Meanwhile, back at home, Erin had been doing the opposite.
I didn’t hesitate. Before I knew it, we were in the 4Runner, and Blake was driving us away from Eclipse.
I realized too late that I hadn’t said a single goodbye. I craned around in my seat and saw Rebekah through the back windshield, her expression furious and frustrated, and Cyrus at her side, his mouth turned down and his eyes forlorn.
They quickly disappeared from view behind us, but I couldn’t stop seeing their faces every time I closed my eyes.
RETURNED
It was past midnight when Blake turned onto the long drive that led to my house. It was strange to be aware of time again. There were no clocks at Eclipse. Things happened when they happened. Would I spend the rest of my life comparing life at Eclipse to reality?
The woods around my house were as dead as they’d been when I left. Deader, even. There was no color in our forest, only shades of gray. Ash and charcoal and slate and smoke. Juxtaposed against Eclipse, with its vibrant green and amber grasses and wildflower fields, my home was the color of a funeral dirge. I wondered how Erin and my mom could stand to be here, surrounded by such bleakness.
How would I be able to stand it?
It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. Erin was all that mattered right now.
We found Erin asleep in her bed, the blankets pulled to her chest. Mom sat beside her, holding her hand. There was a bandage wrapping Erin’s head and another wrapping her right wrist.
“Mom?” I said when I entered. Blake hung back in the hallway behind me.
My mom turned her head, and I saw her cheeks were streaked with tears. The youthful radiance had faded from her face and she looked more like herself again—beautiful, but like a regular person. Not like the Kalyptra, with their angelic glow.
I didn’t know what to expect from the reunion with my mom. She stood and came to me, studied my face for a long moment, and then held out her hand to me tentatively, like I might bite.
“I’m okay now,” I assured her. “I swear.” Ever since my mistake with the midnight glory, I’d been that much more focused on control.
Mom nodded, but didn’t close the gap between us. “Thank you for coming home,” she said in an odd, formal tone, as though I were a stranger. A guest. Had she written me off already? Had she expected never to see me again? The thought made a searing concoction of anger and dejection boil in my stomach.
Mom lowered her hand instead and turned back to Erin, launching into an account of my sister’s deteriorating condition.
“She was fine until this afternoon. Or I thought she was. Then she went out for a walk, and she didn’t come back. I found her by the river, unconscious. She was bleeding from a cut on her head, and her wrist was broken. When she came round, she told me she was hit with a wave of fatigue, the way it used to happen. She passed out and hit her head. She broke her wrist when she fell.”
“You didn’t take her to a hospital?”
My mom’s answer was bitter. “Why? So they can set her bone and tell me there’s nothing more they can do, and then send me on my way?” Mom took a breath and let it out, trying to compose herself. “After I found her by the river, she admitted the old symptoms had started to manifest. She said she’d been short of breath. She’d felt heart murmurs. She tired too easily. She hadn’t wanted to tell me in case it was nothing. She wanted to be normal for as long as she could, didn’t want me to start fussing over her and taking her to doctors again.”
Mom covered her face and her shoulders shook as she began to cry. “I can’t do it all over again. I can’t wake up every day knowing I’m going to lose my sweet girl.”
I felt distant as I watched my mom cry, separated from my emotions even without anima inside me. All I could think about was what I now knew about my mom, that she had lost her power because of me. That if she hadn’t had me, she would still be Kalyptra, residing in paradise. If loving people was truly a choice, as Rebekah claimed, then my mom must hate me. And I had to admit, I hated her a little bit, too. All these years, I could have been healing Erin with anima. She could have lived a normal life instead of the pitiable existence she’d been born into. She had nearly died more times than I could remember, and my mom had never asked me to help her. Never guided me.
My mom would have rather let Erin die than let me be what I was and help my twin, and I hated her for that.
“Can you help her?” my mom asked, but too late for me to ever forgive her.
Instead of answering her, I turned to Blake and motioned him into the room. He stepped forward tentatively, like he wasn’t sure his presence was appropriate. That was Blake. Always considerate. Always thoughtful. My feelings for him were still there, but they seemed subdued now, like they’d been shot up with a tranquilizer.
“Blake, can you carry Erin?” I asked him dubiously. Blake looked like a little boy compared to Cyrus. I wasn’t sure he was strong enough.
But Blake nodded, eyes wide with curiosity. “Of course. Where are we going?”
“Into the forest,” I said, and then turned back to face my mom. “Wrap her up in a blanket and keep her arm stabilized. We’re going for a walk.”
* * *
Erin roused briefly when Blake picked her up out of bed and cradled her against his chest. Her lids fluttered open, and when she saw me a sleepy smile curled the corners of her mouth, and my heart ached with grief for the healthy, transformed version of her she’d been when I saw her last. She wore an old pair of her glasses with a crack in one of the lenses.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her eyelids sagging closed again. My mom had given her pain medication for her broken wrist, and it had made her drowsy.
“Me too,” I said, and hoped she didn’t hear the lie in my voice. I wasn’t complete without my sister, but that didn’t mean I was happy to be home, surrounded by reminders of death. Of the terrible things I’d done and the terrible consequences those things had garnered. But Erin, more than any person I would ever know, was my soul mate and always would be. There was a reason I hadn’t been able to say goodbye to her in the hospital the time she’d been so certain she was about to die. Without her, the best part of me would be gone, and I didn’t know if I could live like that. I thought of Rebekah and her twin, the two of them so much like Erin and me, and my heart ached for my grandmother. I understood why she felt the need to create a place like Eclipse, to try to recreat
e what was lost and make it last forever. And I understood why my mother leaving her was such a betrayal.
Erin drifted back to sleep, and I brushed at the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
I took the lead as we marched through the dead woods toward the river. My mom and I carried flashlights. I shone mine around the forest where I used to spend so many hours with my guitar. Now the fragile, leafless trees were blackened and haunting, like skeletons made of needles and splinters. While we walked, we heard frequent crashes as heavy branches fell and burst into dust.
As soon as we stepped into the living part of the forest, the air felt lighter, easier to breathe. I drew in a lungful and let it out slowly, turning in a circle. I didn’t know how much I would have to cull to heal Erin again, but I couldn’t cull wildly the way I had last time and risk losing control this time. If only I had one of Rebekah’s jars, this would be easy. But I doubted Rebekah would ever sacrifice one of her precious jars to save a non-Kalyptra, even her own granddaughter.
“Blake, will you lay Erin down in this clearing?” I said, kneeling to pat an area soft with pine needles.
He did as I asked, panting with the exertion of carrying her. Then he and my mom stood on either side of me, waiting for my next move and giving me stage fright. I didn’t think I could cull with them watching me, especially Blake, since he’d never seen what I could do. I wondered how it would look to him, if he would find the vena beautiful or terrifying. Either way, I wasn’t ready to find out.
“I need privacy so I can concentrate,” I told them. “Will you wait for me back at the house?”
“I’d rather stay close to make sure everything is okay,” Mom said. Translation: she didn’t trust me to keep Erin safe. I narrowed my eyes at her. If anyone didn’t trust anyone at this point, it was I who didn’t trust her. All the secrets she’d kept from me … all of the ways our lives could have been better if she’d only taken me to Eclipse to learn about myself sooner.
No, it was she who couldn’t be trusted.
“I can’t do it with you watching me,” I said plainly, and held up my hands as though to say, That’s all there is to it.
Finally, Mom nodded. “We’ll come back in twenty minutes to check on you.”
“Fine. Good.” I was growing impatient.
My mom knelt and kissed my sleeping sister on her forehead and then disappeared into the woods, her flashlight beam cutting the dark. Blake lingered a moment longer, crouching down beside me.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay with this? You seem a bit … uncertain.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. “Just worried about Erin.”
“I don’t understand much of what’s happening, but I know you’ll help her.” Blake leaned forward to kiss me and I almost let him. For an instant, all the old feelings roared to life and I was ready to forget Cyrus and adore Blake and only Blake. Then the memory of Cyrus’s warm skin against mine as we danced beside the fire ghosted through my mind.
I turned my face away, denying Blake’s kiss, and hated myself for the hurt and confusion that furrowed his brow.
“Sorry,” I told him. “I just … I have to concentrate.”
“I’ll leave you alone.” He looked back over his shoulder at me as he walked away, the pain of rejection still in his eyes, reminding me of how Cyrus had looked as I’d driven away from Eclipse.
I covered my face with my hands. “Shit,” I said under my breath. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Nearby, I could hear the low gurgle of the river. Normally, I found the sound of the river soothing, but not today. What could I cull to heal Erin? I didn’t want to destroy any more of the forest. That would attract suspicion. But I needed something potent. Something sentient.
Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I glanced around and saw a small pile of river stones and realized I had unconsciously guided us to the place where I’d buried Erin’s cat and its litter so many years ago. Would the anima of a living cat be enough to heal Erin now? I wondered, and then felt guilty for thinking it. I didn’t want to cull a cat or a dog or any other creature. But what choice did I have?
“Are you going to fix me again?” Erin asked, startling me from my thoughts.
I looked down to find Erin’s eyes were open, gazing up at me.
“Is that why we’re out here?” she said.
I smoothed her hair off her forehead. Her hair had thinned again, her scalp showing through. “That’s the plan.”
She frowned. “Is it safe for you?”
I nodded and forced a reassuring smile that I didn’t feel. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to stay in control now.”
Her eyes moved across my face as though she were reading a map. “You’re different, Kenna.”
I couldn’t meet her gaze. “A little. Yeah.”
“A lot,” she said, sounding troubled. “But you look beautiful.”
I couldn’t miss the note of disdain in her voice, and guilt wrenched at my heart. A lot of people don’t know this, but twins often balance each other out. When one is up, the other is down. When one is rebellious, the other tends to be obedient. When one is sick, the other becomes healthy. While I was away at Eclipse becoming the ultimate version of myself, Erin had been at home, withering with illness.
“Do you know why I’m sick again?” Erin asked. She’d always been better at reading my mind than I was at reading hers.
“I guess the fix wasn’t permanent.” I remembered what the dead version of Erin had said to me during my bad trip the other night.
Nothing lasts forever, not death and not life.
My sister’s gaze moved to stare past my shoulder and she murmured, “‘All that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity.’”
“What did you say?” I asked sharply, chills dotting my spine.
“It’s a line from Hamlet,” Erin said. “It’s what Gertrude tells Hamlet when his father dies.” Her eyes darkened behind her cracked glasses. “I’ve told you that line before. Remember?”
And then I did. She had quoted it to me when she’d come so close to dying. My mind had retained the meaning of the quote, but not the exact words, and had tormented me with it during my bad trip on the midnight glory.
“I remember,” I said, nodding. “You’re about a thousand times smarter than me, you know that?”
“That’s because all I could ever do without hurting myself was sit in the house and read.” Her eyes drifted past me and she sighed. “That time in the hospital, when I asked you to say goodbye to me…”
I swallowed hard, choking on emotion. “I couldn’t do it. I still can’t.”
She nodded, as though we agreed on this. “I don’t want to go back to the way I was,” she said. “I know this sounds terrible, but I think I’d rather die than do that.” Her eyes grew watery. “You want to hear something ironic?”
“Sure.”
“Before I died, I wasn’t afraid to die. I hated my body for being so frail. I wanted out of it. It was a prison. But then you brought me back and gave me a new body, and while you were gone I tried to do as many of the things I’d missed out on as I possibly could. I walked for hours in the forest. I ran on the trails. Kenna, I climbed a tree. I know it’s silly, but I’d never done that before. And you know what? It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever done. Why didn’t you tell me what it was like to climb a t-tree?” Her voice hitched. “Now I’m terrified to die. I want this life, but not the old way. I want all the things I’ve been missing.”
I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. “I’m going to make sure you get what you want.”
From the woods came a crack of twigs. I looked up, expecting to see another branch falling, but instead I found a stag with an impressive cradle of antlers striding through the trees less than ten feet from us.
I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. It was like that night in the basement all over again. Instinct took over, only this time instinct didn’t lead me to cull everything in sight.
&n
bsp; Only the stag.
I thrust out my hands, and my vena whipped from my palms and attached to the stag. It moaned like the hull of an old ship hitting rough water as its anima siphoned into me. I wanted to hold on to the anima, to experience what it was like to be the stag, this regal, dignified creature, all power and purpose and nobility.
But this anima was not for me.
I culled until the stag was sapped, its body a withered casing that fell to the forest floor with a hollow thunk, like a heavy sack of flour being dropped. I didn’t realize until I turned my attention back to Erin that she was saying my name. Saying it again and again in horror.
“Kenna, no! Please stop!”
Her eyes were wide, and she was trying to sit up, to scoot away from me. She cried out as she jarred her broken wrist. Distantly, I was aware that she was afraid of me, repulsed by me, but with the stag’s anima blanketing my mind I couldn’t be concerned.
“Give me your hand,” I said. My voice sounded like wind blowing through an old house, low and resonant.
Instead, Erin yanked her good hand away, so I planted both of my hands flat on her chest and pushed with all my might, as though trying to shove my way through a stuck door. The strands attached to her like IV tubes and anima poured from my body to hers. She released a hissing gasp, her eyes bulging from her head, light surrounding her whole body. Her back arched and her legs convulsed and her gasp became a scream. I saw her change before my eyes, watched her hair thicken and her skin go from chalky pale to a warm honey glow. Her muscles filled out and her wrist straightened.
And all the while she screamed.
And then silence.
It was over. The glow around her body faded, and inside I felt dark as a cave.
Erin sat up abruptly. She shot to her feet and I stood too, watching as she ripped her arm from the sling. Then she charged at me in fury and shoved me hard.
“I told you to stop! Why didn’t you listen?”
I was breathless, my mind spinning like a top right before it goes out of control. “It worked. Your arm, all of you … I healed you.”
To show me her arm was healed, she shoved me again.
The Killing Jar Page 17
