My brother is going to free the Grim Reaper, but what did they mean he was being difficult again? Maybe he isn’t fully on his side. I don’t know why I’m thinking on it. I can’t save him either.
I can’t even save myself.
There were times when I had hope, when I believed it could be restored. When I saw the way people looked at me after I became a chronomancer. The smiles they wore, the new light shining in their eyes. I could feel it so strongly then, I can’t feel it at all now.
There is no hope.
*****
A week goes by. Then another.
Nadia and I are given scraps of burnt bread and fruit the ghouls have collected for us to make sure we stay alive until they’re ready to eat us. They mostly leave us alone, apparently the temptation is too much for some of them to be in the same room with their food.
I’ll never understand cannibalism, or the unsustainable hunger. To some degree, I wonder if Jace has that problem. He was always eating, all the time. While I never had much trouble being in a room full of food and never touching any of it.
Nadia often stares at me, I can feel it on the back of my head, but I don’t turn to face her. She’ll talk every now and then, sometimes to me, but mostly to herself. That’s the only way she’ll get an answer, she seemed to realize that fairly quickly.
“He called you a traitor,” I say finally, still facing the other way. I haven’t moved since I made myself comfortable. “What did he mean?”
I can hear her shuffling in her cage behind me.
“After Pryley erupted, what was left of the Grim Reaper’s creations were supposed to flee to the underworld for safety. Not everyone did. Those who stayed behind, who found ways to blend, who stopped being monstrous, we were considered traitors and would be condemned when he rose again. My parents were convinced that was the end of him, so we weren’t threatened. As you can see, we were wrong.”
“We were wrong about a lot of things,” I say.
“It’s because of fear,” she tells me. “Don’t you try to convince yourself things will be okay when you’re scared?”
“Yeah, and I’m usually wrong. So what’s the point then?”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I finally turn to face her. “For what?”
“For whatever’s happened to you that’s made you this way.” Her face is still mostly covered, only showing her eyes. They’re very piercing to look into, large and brown and green, her eyelashes are very long.
“Nothing’s happened to me.”
“No one’s born so cynical,” she says. “Sometimes we just end up ruined by the world.”
“Are you always so preachy?”
Her eyes get slightly smaller, I think she’s smiling beneath the veil. “Only when I need to be.” She looks away from me. “How were you planning on getting out anyway?” she asks, removing the veil that covers the bottom half of her face.
“I don’t know.”
“Were you a prisoner before?” she asks and I nod. “How did you escape?”
“I had help.”
“I’ll help you.”
“He was a dragon.”
“Well, I’m a genie.” She smiles, twisting her wrist so her palm faces the air. “Your wish is my command.”
“So we escape, and then what?” I sit up. “They’ll just keep killing people.”
“Well, at least let me give you something.”
“Don’t you need to consume — payment — for that?”
“You’ve already given me your blood. Come on, now. Out with it.”
“Can Apollo be saved?” I ask.
“Why do you care about him?”
I sit up a little more and accidentally hit the top of my head against the cage ceiling. “He’s my brother,” I say, rubbing the top of my head, through my thick black hair.
“You mean you’re — you’re —”
“Artemis, the chronomancer.” I lace my fingers together across my body. “So can he be saved? Can you save him?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t, but he can be.” She nods. “But you have to do it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but it has to come from here.” She reaches over and taps my chest, just over my heart. “But if he’s your brother, then that part should be easy.” Nadia presses her lips together. “I’m sorry for what the gorgons did.” She nods as she pulls back before I have a chance to speak. “Yeah, I know.”
“But Apollo, so you’re saying he’s not all bad?”
“No, but neither is the Reaper.”
“How can you say that? He’s —”
“Killed people? Created monsters? How can you be so sure your brother hasn’t? They call him the Reawakener, Arthur. What do you think that means?”
“I told you, my name is Ar —”
“Yeah — I like Arthur. Anyway, the Grim Reaper wasn’t always bad. Evil isn’t born, it’s made. But who really knows what happened aside from those who were actually there.”
“Maybe we could go. I’m the Time Traveler. Maybe we can go. I’ve went a few places — I mean — not that far back, but I’m sure it’s possible. But I just — well I don’t really know how it works.”
The Time Traveler will rise, but not without force. Maybe knowing what really happened between my dad and his brother is the force I need. All I knew were stories, all anyone knew were stories. I’m sick of stories and gossip.
“Well, I don’t want to get stuck in the past,” she says, crossing her arms.
“Stay here then, if you’d rather be food.”
“You don’t even know what you’re doing.”
“That’s how you learn, right? Trial and error. I mean, it’s all up here,” I say, tapping on the side of my head. “It kinda injected itself into my brain when I came back to life. I just have to — sort through it.”
“You mean you’ve already died once?”
“If I didn’t, someone else would have. Maybe even more than one.”
She narrows her eyes, staring at me curiously.
“Most wouldn’t think about sacrificing themselves for someone else. Not even for loved ones, frozen of fear, sometimes we lose all conscious thought, unable to act. Were you not afraid?”
“I’ve lived life in fear since I was twelve,” I tell her. “I’m tired of being scared.”
“You’re strange,” she says.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
We’re silenced when the ghouls come to check on us. Nadia and I exchange glances while they eye us hungrily. I don’t want to be ghoul food, I don’t want Osiris wearing my face.
“Why are you carrying that, Halfras? Throw it away!” Tysinni argues with one of the male ghouls while they come into the room. She’s trying to grab something from his hands.
“Because I like it,” he snaps back, holding it out of her reach. I can see it in his hands, when he steps further into our room. When the light from the window shines upon him. I can see it. It’s Zoirin’s bear. “I’m sure it belonged to someone sweet,” he says, pressing it against his nose, he inhales deeply.
I’m positive he doesn’t mean her personality.
I clench my fists while he smells the bear, taking in Zoirin’s scent. Anger is overcoming me again, like I’m being hit over the head with the realization once more that these are not the people I know. They were killed. They’re dead, and their murderers are standing all around me. I have to do something, but my mind is fuzzy. I can’t think straight, overcome with sudden rage.
My fists clench tighter, my nails are digging so hard into my palms, I can feel the blood leaking through the fresh wounds. Still, I don’t stop. My arms shake at my sides while I focus in on Halfras. I don’t care who he looks like. All I can think about is getting that stuffed animal away from him.
The possible look on Zoirin’s face when one of these creatures killed her. The screams that likely burned her throat, and tears that reddened her eyes.
What makes a monster?
These ghouls are clearly capable of knowing the difference between right and wrong. They understand it. They are monsters.
No more innocents will die at their hands, not anymore.
I think I’ve stopped breathing.
I can’t see anything. In the shadows, darkness swallows me. I can hear water dripping in the far distance, but aside from that, everything remains quiet. I reach my hand out to feel for the wall, using it as a guide when I take a step forward.
My feet feel out on the ground in front of me, careful not to trip.
I follow the noise, listening to the constant dripping until it’s not the only thing I can hear. There are voices in the distance, voices all too familiar that send canarywarts crawling up my arms. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.
The hissing voices. It’s a gorgon.
“You are going to free him!” she screeches, and uses her claw to smack someone down against the ground. She strikes him so hard that I hear his neck crack upon impact before he hits the floor. It’s my brother.
“Stop!” I yell and I run toward them, but they don’t hear me. “Stop!” I try again, and still, there’s nothing. They make no reaction to me, they don’t see me or hear me. I’m not there. No one ever hears me.
“Stheno, don’t be so hard on him.”
I stop in my tracks when someone else emerges from the darkness. Using his scythe as a walking stick, I can see the whites of his eyes, sunken into his slender, rotting face.
“He won’t do what you say,” he tells her, circling Apollo like predator and prey. I can see Apollo’s eyes watching him from where he lays on the floor. The Grim Reaper presses his dirty, bare foot against the claw marks on my brother’s bloody cheek and pushes his face to the side. “You’re so weak, it’s pathetic.”
“You’re one to talk,” Apollo says. I close my eyes. Shut up, Apollo. But he continues, “time has not been kind to you.”
“Time means nothing to me!” Drarkodon roars, “I am not a slave to it!”
He turns his scythe upside down and stabs the tip into Apollo’s side, digging into his body beneath his ribcage. Apollo bites down on his bottom lip, and I can see his eyes beginning to water while he tries to ignore the pain.
“Stop!” I yell again, but they don’t hear me still. I run to them and try to shove Drarkodon away from him, but my hands go right through his body and I crash into the jagged wall.
“You will free me,” he says, digging his scythe deeper into Apollo’s body. Apollo’s lips part, and blood starts to drip from the corners of his mouth. “Or I will continue bringing you so close to death, you’ll wish I just put you out of your misery. You’ll beg for it.”
“I — I —” he struggles to talk. I close my eyes and look away. “I hope you do it. You’ll destroy yourself, and, and —” he inhales sharply. “It’s what — what you deserve.”
Drarkodon yanks his scythe out of my brother’s side and wipes the blade against Apollo’s dirty clothes.
“What I deserve…” he repeats, clicking his tongue in his mouth. “I deserve to not have such a weak heir!” he snaps and strikes Apollo’s wound with the bottom of his scythe. A small groan escapes his lips, that sounds no more than air knocking out from his lungs.
“Come, Stheno.” Drarkodon waves his free hand to her as he turns away. “We’ll wait — he’ll come around. They always do.” The two of them disappear into the darkness and I drop down to my knees in front of Apollo. His breathing is slow and shallow. I move my hand to tear at my sleeve, only to remember that I can’t help him. He doesn’t know I’m here.
My bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry, Apollo.”
Slowly, he turns his head and his eyes lock with mine. His eyes narrow, growing smaller and his eyebrows scrunch together. “Artemis?”
My chest tightens. “You can see me?”
“What are you — get out! Get out of —” he starts to cough again, more blood spills from his mouth, “— here.” Sweat is trickling down the sides of his face.
I shake my head. I dig into a hole in the seam of my sleeve and tear it from my arm.
“I’m not leaving without you.” I reach to press the bundled up material against his side but my hand goes right through him.
“You have to,” he whispers, and shoves me with all his might.
Chapter SIX
dripping blood
In the broken building infested with ghouls, Artemis’s eyes have darkened, and his expression grew stern. He didn’t take his focus off of the ghouls all standing before him. His hands were still tightly clenched at his sides, blood dripping from his fists. He didn’t move, not at all. He didn’t even blink.
“What’s he doing?” a ghoul asked, but no one responded. Instead, they all stared with blank expressions upon their faces, occasionally glancing at one another.
Artemis’s eyes turned white and began to glow. Brightly, the light illuminated the entire house from where he sat. He stood up abruptly, his head broke right through the top of his cage, causing many of the ghouls to take a step back.
“What is he?” another asked, when the light dimmed slightly.
“I think he’s the chronomancer.”
“Apollo’s brother?”
“No, Father Time!” one said sarcastically, and smacked the other upside their head. “Yes, Apollo’s brother, you idiot.”
“We should get out of here,” Tysinni said as she started for the door.
“Not so fast,” Artemis said, his voice deepened. He turned his head in her direction, his eyes still brightly lit. The room flooded with light, touching every inch, making every shadow in every corner disappear. A light so bright, Nadia had to shield her eyes with her arm, her lids too thin to stop the light from seeping through.
One by one, the ghouls dried out. Their skin grew thin, till it was nothing but a thin layer coating a body of bones. Stretching to its limit over their skeletons. Then, poof. They exploded, leaving nothing in their presence aside from piles of dust from where they once stood.
Artemis walked through the cage, breaking it with his legs as he went to pick up the stuffed bear. The room dimmed and Nadia opened her eyes, but she was forced to shield her face again when he looked at her.
He jumped up onto a table, and climbed out of the house through a hole in the caved roof.
“Where are you going!” Nadia yelled, her voice called from behind him, but Artemis didn’t look back. She noticed her cage rusted, like he aged his surroundings. Nadia quickly pressed her hand to her face, patting against her skin. She sighed in relief. “Oh thank the Immortal Ones, no wrinkles,” she mumbled, before running after him to follow. “Wait! Arthur! Don’t leave me here!”
But he didn’t look back, nor did he wait.
She stumbled against the ruins of Newacre while she struggled to follow after him. Artemis stalked through the town without effort. He crushed right through the rubble effortlessly like his feet were made of stone.
“Arthur, wait!” Nadia yelled again when she tripped against a broken wooden board and fell on the debris. He stopped to look back at her. She tried to move from where she sat, but her foot was stuck. Slipped through the rubble, her shoe caught on something. She couldn’t pull it free.
He gained, closer in his step and she kept trying to move away but her efforts were fruitless. She couldn’t get loose. Artemis grabbed the cement rubble, picking it up without much strain and tossed it away from the two of them. Nadia’s eyes were wide, unable to take her focus off of his. His eyes were no longer white. They were now pitch black.
“Stop following me,” he growled, his voice remained low. Inhuman.
Na
dia couldn’t speak, unable to find any words to say. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She trembled where she sat. “Please,” she began when he turned away from her. “I don’t know where else to go.”
He didn’t stop to respond, he didn’t stop at all.
Nadia rotated her foot for a second, before making herself stand up. She continued trailing after him. Her gaze fell to the bear still clutched in his hand, but she remained quiet.
Artemis stalked to another caved-in home and immediately began to dig through the rubble, searching for a way inside. He threw pieces behind him as he picked them up and she was careful to make sure not to get hit by any.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “The exit is that way!” Nadia turned to point behind them, but Artemis paid no attention to her. “Typical,” she mumbled to herself. “No man ever listens to anything I say.”
He turned and glared at her. Nadia looked away, pressing her lips together.
“Well, it’s true,” she muttered under her breath, not meaning for him to hear. Artemis resumed with what he was doing without giving her a second glance.
Nadia frowned when she noticed something on the back of his neck, but bit her lip to keep her mouth shut rather than speaking again. On the back of his neck, beneath the faint glow of the triskelion etched into his skin, a black spot had appeared near one of the spirals.
She crouched low to the ground and rubbed out her ankle, and Artemis continued digging through the debris. By the time she looked up again, he was gone.
Nadia shot back up to full stance and walked as fast as her feet would allow to where he formerly stood. “Arthur?” she called for him, but there was no response. “Figures,” she grumbled, peeking through the opening he created. “To follow the creepy, black-eyed boy into the scary house or to not.” Nadia looked around and wrinkled her nose before throwing her hands up into the air. A gentle breeze chilled her and she crossed her arms over her chest. Eyeing her surroundings with widened eyes. “The ghouls are only the beginning,” she repeated to herself. “Definitely not staying out here alone.” She moved into the house with a forced step. “What do I have to lose?” she muttered. “You’ve already lost your lamp, Nadia. What else do you have to lose aside from — oh, I don’t know — your life!”
The Midnight Strider (The Chronomancer Chronicles Book 2) Page 7
