Not yet.
(Mom wanted to see you too,) she added, the afterthought so quiet it was almost an echo. (But I convinced her it was too dangerous.)
(Good.)
The others were giving us curious looks, now, probably wondering what sort of private conversation we were leaving them out of. So Lora made her next thought open for them to hear. (Besides,) she thought, fixing me with those big, forgive-me eyes of hers, (this Solas thing has been keeping me safe for years, supposedly, right? So I figured, where it goes, I go.)
I couldn’t think of a good argument for that, so I just nodded in a slow, non-committal sort of way.
(We should probably get out of the open like this), Will suggested. (Let’s find someplace safer to talk this all over, how about?)
Everyone agreed, and with occasional uneasy glances at each other—particularly at each other’s eyes—we scattered away from the blood-stained rocks, converging toward a point in the distant woods.
The tear-drop shaped jewel was heavier than I remembered.
I’d been holding it in my hand, studying it, for the better part of the last half hour. It still burned a bit from the silver that incased it; this burning had seemed so unbearable a year ago, but, after all the pain I’d endured since that day, it felt insignificant now. Maybe because I was just so focused on trying to figure out the jewel’s secrets.
We knew there were words—a spell— that would unlock its true power. And Joseph had hoped that those words would come to me once I actually held this thing and concentrated. That since my grandfather and my dad had a connection to it, I might share the same connection and therefore be able to wield it properly, easy as that.
But nothing could be that simple, of course.
I could sense its power, could tell that there was more simmering just beneath the surface, but I had no idea how to reach it.
“You think staring as hard as you can will make it eventually reveal itself?” Vanessa’s voice was gently teasing as she plopped down beside me on the hollowed, rotting log I was sitting on.
“You never know,” I said. But then I sighed, realizing she was right; this staring contest with it was getting me nowhere. I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket, zipped the pocket securely closed, and absently massaged the burn mark it had left in my palm. “Just one more thing I don’t understand, weighing me down,” I muttered.
She rested her head on my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
I wasn’t up for arguing, so I just changed the subject. “What were they talking about?” I asked, nodding toward the group she’d walked away from.
“Kael and Will wanted more details of what that beta wolf—Alanna, is her name, apparently— and the rest of her pack saw while fetching Lora.”
“And?”
“And the things they were talking about were making me nauseous, so I came over here instead.” She drew her knees up against her chest and balanced her chin on them. “Everything seems to make me nauseous here lately.”
“I’m assuming they were still discussing more fighting they witnessed, then?”
She nodded silently.
It was what they’d been talking about when I’d gotten up and walked away, too. It seemed that skirmishes like the one that had left that grave in The Burren were becoming more and more common all over the country. Everyone was on edge. It was exactly like Alanna had said: No one trusted anybody fully anymore. And packs were splitting left and right because of it, some voluntarily declaring their allegiance to the feral—no possession needed—because they were afraid of what would happen if they didn’t, I guess. Or because they wanted a part of the powerful new order the feral would supposedly establish.
It was more than a little frustrating—and nauseating—to think about.
Which is partly why I’d walked away from the discussion, and why I was sort of glad I had the Solas to focus on figuring out, anyway. Kael and Will were essentially the generals in my army; they could give me any need-to-know information later, and I’d make whatever decisions had to be made.
In the meantime, I pressed my hand against the pocket that held the jewel, and I got to my feet.
“I’m going to go see if Lora’s awake,” I told Vanessa.
I’d insisted my little sister sleep, since it turned out she hadn’t done that for days. Because of that lack of sleep, her would-be-advanced healing powers weren’t working the way they should have been. She’d walked to this campsite with a limp—an injury she’d acquired in the fight at The Burren—and when I poked my head into the tent she was in, she was still hobbling as she turned to face me.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” I said with a frown.
“How am I supposed to rest right now? Seriously? After everything I’ve seen in the last few days?” She folded her arms tightly across her chest, squeezing in like she was trying to make herself smaller. Like she was trying to disappear somehow.
I couldn’t bring myself to scold her anymore.
“How do you do it?” she asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
My throat tightened. I stepped inside, taking my time to fix the tent flap shut behind me. “I don’t know,” I said. “Eventually, I guess I just get so tired that I manage to forget things, and I sleep for awhile.”
“I don’t think I could ever get that tired,” she said softly.
I sank down into the pile of blankets and nodded for her to sit next to me, which she did. And it was a strange mixture of comfort and awkwardness, sitting next to her. Because she was still my Lora, in every way that mattered. But I wasn’t the same sister she’d left behind. I’d been ripped apart and put back together with so many new, different pieces that I was surprised she even recognized me anymore. And I wasn’t surprised at the way she kept stealing glances at my face, trying to be discreet, but obviously trying to make sense of my new face at the same time.
“I’m aware there’s a scar there,” I said with a small, tired grin. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t see it. It’s the first thing anyone notices about me these days.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t the first thing I noticed.”
“No?”
“No. It was your bright red hair, dummy. And then your blindingly pale skin.”
“It’s not blinding.” I gave her a playful shove. “I’ve been outside for most of the past three weeks, so it’s kind of almost…not-albino, at least.”
“You do have a bit of a faint red glow, I suppose. It’s lovely in its own way.”
“Boy, I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I really needed this confidence boosting conversation.”
She laughed, and was quiet for a minute before she said, “You want to know the truth, though?”
“Always.”
“I saw something else—I saw a memory.”
“Of?”
“Of that day you showed up to save me. Of the way you were willing to stay behind and sacrifice whatever you had to so I could get away from Valkos safely. And I was so mad at you for it—so I get it, I know you’re mad at me for showing up here like this. But I don’t care. It’s your own fault, anyway, you know.”
“How is it my fault?”
“Because. I’m too much like you. And you practically raised me, so…”
“…Way to go me?”
“Exactly,” she said, giving me a quick thumbs-up.
“I could have done worse, I guess.”
“Yup.” She turned and looked directly at me, then, and studied my scars for a few seconds before saying, “They are kind of hard to miss in the end though, aren’t they?” She frowned, looking hesitant—which wasn’t an expression I was used to seeing on her face. “What happened, Alex?”
“I told you what happened in my letter.”
“But who…?”
“It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again. All the people closest to us are protected, whether by me and Joseph’s magic, or the Solas, right? So we’re fine. Don
’t worry about it.”
My tone was harsher than it needed to be, maybe. But she didn’t press me, even though she looked like she wanted to. She just said, “It kind of makes you look like a badass, you know.”
“Um, I kind of am a badass,” I replied. “Mother Alpha, Empress of Wolves, Savior of the World—haven’t you heard all of my new, badass titles?”
She snorted a giggle, and it felt good to be able to share that laugh with her. It felt less heavy than the occasional laughs I still shared with Will and Kael and Vanessa—purer, maybe, because we didn’t have as much bloody battle experience to taint it with.
We still had enough, though, that our laughing fit was short-lived.
“You are entirely too much like me,” I said. “You always have been. So how about I sleep, and you sleep too, copycat?” There were things I wanted—needed—to do besides sleeping, but I had a feeling Lora might rest easier if I was beside her.
And I was right.
Within minutes of me lying next to her and simply closing my eyes, she was already out cold, snoring and occasionally snuggling closer to me— just like she had in the weeks after Dad died. I’d lost count of the number of times she’d shown up in my room back then, pillow in hand, asking if she could sleep in my bed. And I’d roll my eyes in typical big sister fashion, but I always said of course you can.
Because, truth be told, I slept better when she was close, too.
So even though I didn’t really mean to, I felt myself drifting off. And the sound of voices outside our tent—talking of the ones we’d already lost and the battles still to come—chased me into my dreams.
Seventeen
jumping
I woke to a pitch dark tent.
Lora was still snoring beside me.
And a pair of terribly familiar silver-blue eyes were staring at me from the front of the tent.
My first instinct was to scream. But Carrick must have sensed it coming, because he put a finger to his lips, and his voice was in my head a moment later. (You don’t want to wake your sister, do you?)
The question carried a low threat with it, and suddenly all I wanted to do was draw him as far away from Lora as I possibly could—a desire he must have heard in my mind, because he smiled and backed slowly out of the tent. I pulled my shoes on as quietly as I could and followed him, a million questions racing through my head.
Most importantly: How?
How did he get past everyone and into my tent?
I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him, but I couldn’t help but do a desperate, searching sweep of the campsite.
It was deserted.
“Where are they?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Oh, here and there,” he replied. “The curse’s time was up for some of them. Others ran away. Others may be back soon. Who knows?”
“You’re lying. They wouldn’t have left me here alone. This isn’t real.”
“Of course it is.” He beckoned me toward him as he spoke, and I was in such a confused daze that I moved without really thinking about it, until I was close enough that his hand could reach out and brush my cheek. “See? Solid.”
I shook my head. “No. You’re not. This is a nightmare, and I want to wake up now.”
“You are awake.”
My hand shot toward his throat, claws extending from them and pressing into his skin. “Then I can kill you, so long as we’re already here, right?” I growled.
“You can try.” His eyes burned into mine, and his smile didn’t so much as flinch—no part of him did— as he wrapped a hand around my wrist. He forced my claws deeper into his own skin, sending blood rushing down his neck. “But I doubt you’ll be successful alone.”
I yanked my hand from his, tried to wipe his blood off on my jacket as I backed away.
“And you are so very alone right now,” he said, his voice oozing with mocking pity as he stepped after me.
My heart pounded. My knees threatened to buckle. I didn’t want to believe this was real, but I couldn’t seem to get myself to wake up.
“What have you done to the others?” I demanded. “Because I know they didn’t just run away.” And, though I didn’t say it out loud, I refused to believe his other claim, too: That time was up. Time wasn’t up. Curse or no curse, this wasn’t how things ended.
He laughed that cold, dark laugh that I had heard so many times in my recent nightmares, and he said, “Maybe I’ll tell you what I know. But I need something from you first.”
“I don’t have anything for you.”
“Oh, but I think you do.” His eyes, full of a predatory sort of gleam, shifted toward the zipped pocket of my jacket. “Or at least, you have something that’s threatening to make this game we’re playing a little too one-sided for my taste. So it’s probably best that we destroy it.”
“Because fairness is so important to you, is it?” I snapped.
His smile wilted a bit. “Come here, Alex.”
Don’t go to him.
My thoughts were screaming those words, over and over.
My body was shaking violently as it fought the urge to move, the urge to obey that supernatural pull he had.
“Come here. And give me the jewel in your pocket.” A dangerous impatience had crept into his voice—one that made refusing him seem like a suicidal move.
But I did it anyway.
Turning away from the pull of his power was like moving through quicksand. Every step I took away from him felt agonizingly slow, until I had clawed my way to the edge of our campsite, and the pressure finally released somewhat. I heard him laughing just behind me, though. Following me.
I didn’t turn around to see how close he was. I just kept moving.
“Where are you going, Descendant?” he called after me. “Into the woods? Do you think I can’t follow you in there?”
I had only one thought: The Solas. I still felt its weight in my pocket, and that was where it was going to stay. I just had to get far enough away from his magic to think clearly, to figure out how to protect it the way I needed to....
There were more of his wolves in the woods, though.
Shadows crept after me on silent paws, glowing eyes following my every motion. I was imagining some of them, maybe. Or maybe not. I ran so fast that everything around me was blurring—real things with fantasy things, the sound of my footsteps with the sound of Carrick’s steady panting as he drew closer, closer, closer—
My foot caught the edge of a half-buried rock.
I stumbled. I tried to roll nimbly across the ground, tried to break some of the force of my fall. But my shoulder still absorbed enough shock to jar it. The pain made my attempt to regain balance slow and clumsy, and Carrick slammed into my side and sent me back to the ground.
I scrambled beneath him, trying to rip free of the hold he had on my jacket. I could feel his hands working over me, getting closer and closer to that jewel I carried. I tried desperately to kick him off. But he was too much bigger. Too much stronger.
Magic, I thought, desperately.
“Don’t,” he snarled.
He moved to pin my hands against the ground, but I moved faster.
I struck up and hit him in the nose with my palm. It was the sort of blow that—especially with my strength— would have killed a human. And it was enough to cause Carrick to fall aside, cursing as his blood showered over me. I skirted out from underneath him as he did, and I staggered my way back into a sprint.
The shadow wolves were snarling now, snapping at my ankles; I occasionally felt their teeth graze my skin, stinging and burning and drawing blood that slid down into my shoes. I tried not to think about its sticky warmth as I pushed through the last of the trees and raced into an open field bathed in moonlight.
Too much moonlight.
When had the moon gotten so close to being full?
I pushed an image from my head—an image of that moon completely full and turned blood red—and I kept going. My pace was slowing, though, becau
se the wolves hadn’t followed me out into the open. There was no sign of Carrick, either. There was only the moon and me, and a strange, eerie quietness interrupted only by the sound of rushing waves in the distance.
From the ocean.
I was approaching a group of seaside cliffs, I realized; the landscape curved in such a way that I could see how steeply they dropped, plummeting hundreds of feet down to the jagged, foam-covered rocks below.
I slowed to a stop. Rested my hands on my knees and leaned over them, panting for breath. As I straightened back up, my gaze zeroed in on the dark trees. My fingers fumbled with the zipper on my jacket’s pocket. Think, I commanded myself as my thumb found the edge of the teardrop-jewel.
I heard footsteps, but I couldn’t tell what direction they were coming from.
I tried calling out in thoughtspeech, but no one replied.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered—muttered to no one, I thought.
But then Carrick’s voice answered me: “You’re still alone, I see.”
I don’t know how I missed his emergence from the trees, how I hadn’t seen him making his way across the open field. But I had. Magic of some sort that he’d used, probably. And now he was less than ten feet away, his face and throat glistening with the blood I’d caused. The cliffs behind me suddenly seemed even closer and steeper than before.
“Give me the Solas, and perhaps I’ll let you live a little while longer,” he said.
“How about you just throw yourself off this cliff instead?”
The smile he was wearing quirked. “Or perhaps you could do as much, hm? Thank you for the idea—because, Solas or no, you won’t be much threat to me if you’re dashed to pieces against the rocks.” As he spoke, he took one slow, calculated step after the other. And even though I knew I didn’t have much room to back up, that I should be moving in any direction except backwards, I still found myself doing exactly that; it was almost as if an invisible lever connected the two of us, and every step he took forward forced me to take one step back.
Ascendant (The Shift Chronicles Book 4) Page 15
