Deluge: YA Dark Urban Fantasy (Shifter Chronicles Book 4)
Page 18
“I thought you were dead.” He chokes the words out. “I thought I would never see you again.”
His hands find my chin and tilt my head up and his mouth smashes like the waves against mine. “Shae,” he murmurs. And it could be the rain, it could be the sea. It could be my tears or it could be his. But my face is wet and salty.
He pulls away from me, gripping my hand like he’ll never let it go and pulls me up the beach, through the wind and towards the cliff face. There’s a narrow crevice leading up the cliff and a slim canyon with stairs to take us up to the top.
We pause to catch our breaths, sheltered from the wind.
“Where is El Oso?” He asks. “Darko said you were hurled into the sea together.”
“He’s alive?” A sigh of relief comes from me. He risked his life to help us do this. But I thought he was dead.
“He’s alive and in the shelter. What a about El Oso?”
I frown because I don’t know for sure but… “I think… I think he’s dead,” I breathe, hardly believing it could possibly be true.
Callum closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “You killed him?”
“I stopped him,” I say, still finding it astonishing I could’ve done that. “I stopped him from killing me. I think the blade went through to his heart but we were at the bottom of the sea. His light went out, his energy disappeared, but, but I don’t know.”
“Are you OK?” Callum asks. And I can tell by his tone of voice he’s not asking if I’m physically okay, because it’s pretty obvious. If I’m a shifter and I’m above ground, I’m going to be alright. My body will heal. He knows this like perhaps only a Ravensgaard can. But if I truly did kill El Oso, then the pain of killing someone, even someone as cruel and dangerous as El Oso…a part of my soul is lost.
I swallow hard because I don’t want to show him the cracks. I definitely don’t want to show the pain. “I’m fine,” I say, knowing regardless of anything I say, our world will be different. How I’m perceived will be different and whatever the three Muirderkrings are, will be different. Because the one Muirderkring that ruled the Order, it’s leader, I’m pretty sure, is no more.
“We need to get up into the shelter,” Callum says. “Roman and Zan and Aiden are there.”
“My brother?” I ask.
Callum smiles. “He’s safe,” he says. “He’s safe and in the shelter. He sure is going to be happy to see you.”
29
We huddle in the basement, listening as the wind around us dies down. The shrieking and the ripping of the wind and the of the flooding is all gone. This place is used to hurricanes. But it’s never felt a hurricane like this. Fortunately, we are safe. The basement in the bunker is large. We have huddled here through the night. Aiden is unreachable, sitting behind a closed door in a private room set up in this basement for any of the Van Arends.
But he did what he had to do.
He started the hurricane to stop the fires and to destroy the Berzerken who were ready to overpower everybody and take out all of us. They wanted to be the most dominant shifters in the world. I don’t know how many lives have been lost in the hurricane, but I am sure it is far less than would have been destroyed is El Oso had succeeded. But there’s no getting through to Aiden right now. Eventually he will come out of that room. He must.
If nothing else than to survey the damage.
I sat with Henry and Callum through the night, our arms intertwined on the edge of a cot, trying not to shiver and shake or be nervous, just letting the hurricane blow over us. I know Aiden started it, but the Earth took over. And in some way, when I think back to what Lydia and Jacqueline and Hercules have taught me, I almost think the Earth herself knew the Berzerken would be an imbalance of power and what Aiden started was critical.
In the morning Callum stands up.
“We need to survey the damage before anyone else can come out,” he says. “Go spend time with Aiden. It will be important for the people to see him.”
I tap lightly on the door, but there’s no answer. I try the handle and it’s locked.
“Aiden, it’s Shae.” I knock on the door again. It’s all still on the other side and a cold terror seeps through me. What if he’s sick? What if he’s ill like his father was? What if the power of the hurricane was too severe for him? What if he is dead?
Why did we let him lock himself in there on his own last night? I press my hands on the door, knowing I can’t burn it down, it’s metal. I lean my forehead against it.
But I hear a click of the lock being undone.
I step back from the door as I watch the handle turn. Aiden opens it wide. He stands there, staring at me in all his golden regal beauty, looking as if he’s had a good night’s sleep.
“Aiden?” I ask. “Are you alright?”
He doesn’t smile, it’s almost as if he glows.
“I am,” he says.
“You look like you slept,” I say.
He looks a bit surprised. “Yes.” Over his shoulder his room is luxurious, with a large, king-size four-post bed. The walls are actually covered in fabric. The room looks almost ike it belongs in the manor back in Topanga.
“Didn’t you?” He asks.
“No,” I say. “The racket of the storm was too much. None of us slept. But you’re okay. That’s what matters.”
I jump forward and pull him into a hug.
“Yeah.” He still seems a little stunned, like it wasn’t what he was expecting either. He wraps his arms around me. “I’m fine. Let’s go see how everybody else is doing.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think that’s a really good idea.”
The mansion stands but it will need work. Callum is already above ground.
“We found El Oso’s body on the shore,” he says. “But his plane is gone and there is no sign of Polaris. We can only assume he survived and has fled.”
The land is devastated. There is nothing left. Houses are torn apart. What houses aren’t torn apart are so damaged it might be impossible for people to actually live there.
Callum holds my hand and helps me over some wreckage as we continue to survey the damage of the town.
“The island’s going to require a lot of rebuilding,” Aiden says.
Zan looks at him, her eyebrows raised. “Are you thinking of staying here?” She asks incredulously.
“I was the one who caused the damage,” he says. But his tone is without remorse. He states it simply like a fact.
“The mansion is barely habitable,” she says.
“It’s habitable enough,” Aiden says.
I glance over at Callum. He’s looking at me questioningly and I give him a nod, squeezing Henry’s hand.
“I’ve always been your Ridder,” he says to Aiden. “I will stay here with you.
“I will return to Topanga and stand by your father’s side,” Iona nods.
“I would I’d like to stay, also,” I nod. Rebuilding is definitely something I am ready for.
Aiden’s smile is warm and wide. “It’s time the eagles came out of hiding and spread out into more of our territories. In partnership with the Ravensgaard, we can make a difference.”
I stare down at the rain and flooding that has destroyed so much. But my hands are warm and I squeeze tight Callum and my brother’s hands. My mother and father are safe and we will be reunited. I lean back and close my eye breathing in the crisp sea wind.
It’s impossible to avert disaster, it’s impossible to not affect the people around us, and still I can’t say I regret what has happened. Zan, Roman and Aiden are already starting to lift and straighten fallen debris as we walk. For me it represents exactly what has happened with the Order. It has been torn apart and it will never be the same again.
We will rebuild it and make it better.
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Since I was eight I have been writing stories that capture the adventures in my head and the characters strong enough and flawed enough to have them. When I look at an empty field I see a formidable citadel. When I meet a vulnerable old man, I greet an emeritus warrior. When I walk through city streets I feel dimensions hiding around every turn. It has been my lifelong passion to explore these worlds that reveal the pain of loneliness, the joy or self-actualization, and the hope of magic.
I grew up in a place called Potter Valley where the Milky Way is held aloft by a circle of mountains and the central business district consists of a bait store and a saloon. At 19 I moved alone to London and spent the next ten years exploring the world, even becoming an Australian citizen, before I returned to California and found a new home in Los Angeles. My world revolves around my two wee children, storytelling, and my love of travel.
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Acknowledgments
My greatest appreciation always goes to God and my muse. Nothing is possible without them.
It is said that writing is a solo journey, but for me it has definitely been a team sport with embattled seasons over numerous years. The ones who have sacrificed the most in support of my driving need for creativity are my husband, Alex, and my children, Armand and Yasmine. Also, my extensive, unruly, hilarious and supportive family: my parents, my stepmom, my brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews, my in-laws, and the outlaws. You know who you are; we hang out at Christmas and Hanukkah. And, of course, to the writing, editing, designing, marketing, supporting, and mastermind team that have listened, read, and supported me through the years: Ingrid Sundberg, Sheryl Scarborough, Kristen Kittscher, Michael D. Trozzo, Jackie Aaro, Dr. Julie Kokesch, Ross Brown, Derek Murphy, Anita Wright, Hilary Thompson, Sandy Krakowski, Gary Vee, AAYAA, 20booksto50k, the Binders, the team at SCBWI, the resources of AWP, the articles of PW, and the information of WD. This wouldn’t have happened without you.