Little pinpoints pricked into her calves and thighs. She tried to push herself up, but she couldn’t feel her legs. A few of the creatures rose from the sand and scuttled up her body toward her face. They looked like red and black golf balls with long, thin legs and two snapping front claws.
Van brushed them back, keeping the sea of spider-like crab creatures off her face. But more and more rose from the sand. She sank deeper and could no longer see Paley.
“Hel—eh,” Van tried to scream, but grains of sand shot into her mouth, choking her.
Sand trickled into Van’s ears. She felt a sharp pinch on her right arm, and it went numb. The creatures crawled under her shirt, scratching her stomach. She felt another pinch near her belly button, and that spot went numb. She frantically swatted the creatures with her good arm, yet she sank lower.
It was a losing battle. The creatures were burying her alive.
Noxious fumes filled the air. The spindly legs slowed. The creatures became weaker, until they wobbled and fell off. The repulsive smell made Van gag. She tried to lift herself, but she couldn’t move. Her vision grew fuzzy. A pair of hands reached out, gripped her arms, and easily pulled her out of the sand.
“Sand crabs.” It was Brux. “Stink bomb. Clears them out.” He held her tight, while seeing whether she could stand on numb legs.
Trey propped up Paley, who seemed okay, too.
Van opened her mouth to thank Brux and instead vomited all over his boots.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Day 2: 4:37 p.m., Living World
Brux and Trey each carried one of the two injured girls back to the granite archway and settled them on blankets. Some time must have passed, because Van woke up to find Trey examining their red welts.
“Sand crab bites,” he told them. “How do you feel?”
“I can walk,” Van said. She tried to push herself up onto unsteady legs.
“Sit down!” Brux scolded. He caught Van in his arms, as she collapsed. He placed her back on the blanket next to Paley.
Van noticed his stocking feet and his cleaned boots drying on a nearby rock. She snapped her head away before Brux could see her reddening cheeks. She still felt embarrassed about puking on his feet.
Jorie kept pacing and running her hand over her Mohawk. Van wasn’t sure whether Jorie felt concerned about her and Paley’s wellbeing or upset over the time setback.
“Trey,” Jorie barked. “How long until the paralysis wears off?”
“I’m a combat medic,” he said in frustration. “Cuts, breaks, stab wounds. None of the medicines I brought will dilute sand crab venom.”
“Van—your neck,” Paley croaked, barely having the energy to say the words.
“It’s burning,” Van said meekly. “And itchy.”
Brux pulled down Van’s collar and frowned. “You have a rash.”
“I’m itchy, too.” Paley pulled up her sleeve to scratch her arm.
“They’re getting worse,” Jorie snapped. She dropped to her knees next to the girls. “No warriors die on my watch. Elmot! Get me the boundless bowl!”
There was no response.
Jorie twisted her head, searching for him, as did Trey and Brux. “Where’s Elmot?” she asked briskly.
Van felt hurt that Elmot had disappeared with her and Paley sick and in need, especially since he seemed to be bonding with them, more so than anyone else.
Trey rose from his knees. “I’ll go look for him.”
Brux rummaged through Van’s backpack, searching for the boundless bowl. Van flinched, worried he might discover her contraband.
Just then, Elmot hastened through the archway into their camp, grasping a bundle made from a spare shirt.
“Elmot! Where were—” Jorie stopped in midsentence, as Elmot opened the packet on the ground next to Van and Paley, exposing ten dead sand crabs.
Van let out a shriek. She tried to wriggle away but felt too feeble.
“Did I forget to mention one of my skills is toxicology?” Elmot grabbed the boundless bowl from Brux, who hadn’t indicated that he’d seen Van’s smuggled items.
Elmot asked the bowl for coconut water. “I’m good with poisons,” he said. He took a sand crab, opened its minuscule mouth with a stick, and tore off its bottom jaw.
Van winced.
“Trey, get your medic kit,” Elmot instructed. “Put five drops of ortega-ancha in the coconut water, please. It will bind the mixture, allowing it to create an immune response in their bodies.”
Trey hurried to his backpack and rummaged around for the correct ampule.
“Sand crab venom is an efficient killer.” Elmot used his thumb to squish the head of the arthropod. A clear liquid dripped from its fangs into the coconut water. “The venom is a complex mixture of toxic proteins and peptides, exquisitely refined to attack the nervous system. It paralyzes the body by blocking communication between nerves and muscles and essentially stops your body from functioning. The only way to counter its effects is by using the same components to cure as those that produced the symptoms.”
Elmot mixed the water-venom mixture with a stick. He commanded the situation with focus and clarity, even more so than when he navigated using his maps.
Trey opened the ampule and dropped five beads of ortega-ancha into the coconut water.
Van wearily eyed the nauseating mixture. “Couldn’t we have used the boundless bowl to make the antivenom?” Van asked Elmot. One that tasted better and was made of chocolate, maybe?
Elmot shook his head. “I can’t create the right chemical makeup using the bowl. Boundless bowls produce only food and drink, not medicines. If I had asked for the antivenom, it would have given me only the food ingredient I needed, coconut water.”
He extended the bowl to Van and Paley. “Drink up.”
Both hesitated.
“You go first,” Paley said.
Van took the bowl. Though it barely weighed two pounds, she could hardly hold it. She drank a sip and almost hurled again. She passed the bowl to Paley.
“Keep taking sips until the bowl is empty,” Elmot said earnestly.
“How long until they’re better?” Jorie asked.
“Well,” Elmot drawled, “we’ll have to stay the night. If the cure doesn’t kill them first, that is.”
“What?” they all cried at once.
“Kidding,” Elmot said, smiling.
Elmot’s making a joke surprised Van. Elmot had a cheery disposition, but, so far, out of all the team members, only Trey had exhibited a sense of humor. Van suspected Elmot had a crush on Trey and wondered whether this was Elmot’s way of flirting with him.
“So not funny.” Paley pouted.
Van giggled. “It was kind of funny.”
“Let’s settle in!” Jorie commanded. She sat down on a flat rock, unsheathed Zachery, and repeatedly tossed the axe in the air with one hand and caught it with the other.
Trey took a seat on a piece of granite next to his stored crossbow and quiver, pulled out a dry cloth, and began wiping the arrows.
Elmot wandered off to the side and became absorbed in his maps.
Brux took it upon himself to monitor Van and Paley’s progress with drinking the antivenom. Once they had finished, Brux asked Trey for an ointment that would soothe their rashes. While his back was turned, Van used her fingers to tidy her hair.
“We saved the rope but couldn’t get your caps,” Brux told Van and Paley, offering Van a salve-filled hand. “Let me rub this on your rash.”
Van pulled down the neck of her shirt, and he rubbed the salve on her skin. His touch tingled, electrifying her whole body. Elated, she felt more energy from it than from any antivenom. He treated Paley next.
Brux cleaned the bowl and then said, “Salted auroch strips.”
He offered Van some strips, which looked like beef jerky. She refused, but Paley opened her mouth like a baby bird.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Van said, as Brux fed Paley.
“Why didn’t you say
so?” Brux asked. He coaxed Van into telling him her favorite food, hard-boiled eggs, and he ordered three from the bowl.
“I have no appetite,” Van said.
“Open up!” Brux waved a peeled egg at Van and made zooming sounds, as if feeding a stubborn baby.
Brux looked so cute and caring, Van smiled, in spite of herself. She took a bite to make him happy, then gobbled down all three eggs.
After eating, she recuperated on her blanket and watched Brux out of the corner of her eye, snacking on auroch strips. She wondered what kind of life he had in the Living World, how his mother had died (in what Fynn called “unusual circumstances”) and what he thought about his frail sister possibly being the Anchoress-in-Waiting. Van still didn’t know what Brux’s skills were, and he hadn’t yet demonstrated anything remarkable. To be fair, Van didn’t have any spectacular skills, either. She didn’t know why she’d even been chosen for this mission, other than her family name. Maybe Brux and Daisy were chosen for the same reason—lineage.
The boys started goofing around to burn off excess energy.
Van watched them roughhousing, touched by how concerned the team had been about her and Paley. The others could’ve left them to rot under the archway and continued with the mission. Van’s chest tightened.
“Let’s not waste time.” Jorie clapped her hands. “Consider this a Grigori weapons training session. Van, Paley—pay attention. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“Oh, we’re not pretending anymore?” Elmot asked. “Pretending we don’t know Van and Paley are from Providence Island.”
“So you do know!” Paley exclaimed.
“I’ve known since Uxa sent me to find you in Lodestar Village,” Brux said.
“The rest of us have known since our briefing with Uxa,” Jorie added. “Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change the mission.” She twirled Zachery from hand to hand.
From under his jacket, Brux pulled a wavy dagger with symbols on the blade.
Trey unsheathed a hunting knife from inside his boot.
“I’m . . . as you may have figured, not really a weapons kind of guy,” Elmot stammered. “Poisons are more my thing.”
“We can all learn,” Jorie said. “We’ll do hand-to-hand combat, assuming all weapons are lost. That way, it’ll be even.” She gently laid Zachery down on the ground. Hand-to-hand combat was Jorie’s specialty; she focused on showing the others defensive and offensive moves.
Enthralled with the session, Van watched them fight in pairs: Jorie against Trey, Brux against Elmot—which was no match. Brux definitely restrained himself.
“To become a Grigori, you have to compete in the Games—sporting events,” Jorie said, as she lunged at Trey.
Trey dodged her.
“In the past, the Elders only accepted one-hundred-percent pureblooded Lodians,” Trey said. “Now, times are tough. More demons, not enough warriors. They’re a bit more lenient.”
“You still have to prove yourself.” Brux easily knocked Elmot to the ground. “If someone is a commoner and makes it to the Games, he or she has to place first to be accepted into Grigori training.”
Van’s father was a commoner. He must have placed first! Impressed, Van hoped she had inherited his abilities. Wait, she thought. Games? The Jaychund Games. They’re tryouts for the Grigori! The kids in the Reservation Program actually competed for placement in the Grigori! Duh! She really was slow. She wondered if placing first in one All-Grades event had qualified her. It seemed likely, since they had chosen her for this mission.
“Grigori are hunters,” Jorie said, as she and Trey prowled around each other. “And protectors. They kill demons generated by terrigens in the Earth World, before they get strong enough to rise here.”
Brux and Elmot were too focused on Elmot’s lack of combat skills to participate in the discussion.
“The Balish believe terrigens are lesser people in a lesser world,” Trey said, as he lunged at Jorie and missed.
Jorie gripped Trey in a headlock. “Is that what you believe, Bale?”
“Of course not,” Trey said in a strained voice. “Why do you think I defected?”
Paley glowered. “Terrigens aren’t lesser people!”
“Lodians believe everyone is equal,” said Trey, who had shaken loose of Jorie’s hold. “And that all things in nature are interconnected and interdependent. That terrigens are sentient beings who deserve respect.”
“Why can’t terrigens exist here?” Paley asked, who felt well enough to sit up.
“Every living being has a range of vibrational frequencies,” Trey explained. “Humans who have ichor in their blood can reach higher frequencies, which allows them to stay here in the Living World. The attuning process for travel through the portal requires adjusting these frequencies.”
“Why do terrigens generate demons?” Van asked, changing the conversation before Paley revealed herself as a smuggled-in terrigen. “Can’t the Grigori stop them from doing that?”
“The thoughts and actions of any human produce an energy,” Trey said. “But terrigens have a lower vibrational frequency range than vichors. Whenever a terrigen commits a grievous act against the Light—anything violent or destructive that doesn’t promote the good of the people or takes away hope—this act generates negative energy that concentrates over time, creating a life form we call a demon.”
Van felt relieved to hear this; she had half-expected Paley to generate a demon every time her friend complained.
“Demons then corrupt the minds of terrigens by attaching to them and disrupting their thoughts. This makes terrigens more agitated and violent, creating a vicious cycle.” Trey, crouched and edgy, kept his gaze on Jorie. “Demons thrive and breed in negative environments, and most demons are lazy. They settle for corrupting lower-frequency terrigens. But some demons are determined to snuff out any spark of Light they can find. These stronger, more advanced demons are attracted to the most hopeful, positive terrigens. The terrigens who radiate the brightest inner Light.” Trey dodged Jorie, then managed to pin one of her arms behind her back for a brief moment. “These terrigens exist at the highest level of their frequency range, so the demon needs more force and effort to affect them. But the demon’s whisper—called seeping—can adversely affect any human.” He shuddered.
Van shivered in response. Seeping sounded awful. “Any human, or just terrigens?”
“Any human,” Jorie answered, lunging at Trey. “Thankfully, the vibrational frequencies in the Living World are too high for demons.”
Jorie had caught Trey in her grip again. “To stop the terrigens from generating demons, you would have to kill pretty much all of them. It’s the only way. And not a very feasible one,” Jorie said, as Trey struggled against her hold. “Doesn’t matter because our Grigori would never even let anyone try.” Jorie grinned at Trey’s efforts but held firm. “They vow to protect the weak and innocent.”
“Terrigens are too ignorant to know they exude energy that creates demons,” Trey said. He wrapped his arms around Jorie’s waist and swiped one leg behind her knees. Jorie released her hold, as they both fell to the ground. “Or that demons, Grigori, and another world exists.” Trey caught his breath, as he jumped to his feet, followed by Jorie. “That’s what makes them innocent.”
Jorie and Trey then focused on one-upping each other, ending their conversation with Van. She felt okay with this, because the whole time she’d kept sneaking peeks at Brux to see what he did. Now she could fully concentrate on watching him.
She couldn’t take her eyes off Brux and how he maneuvered himself around Elmot. It was so . . . masculine. Like the way Ken moved when playing lacrosse. Occasionally, Brux stopped and taught Elmot the basic defensive moves he had just demonstrated. Brux’s patience with Elmot showed he had a soft side.
He’d be good with kids, Van thought. She squirmed on her blanket.
Brux caught her eye. “Feel like moving about?” He extended his hand and coaxed Van to her feet. “Take it slow a
nd show me what combat skills you learned in school.”
“No real skills, not like yours,” Van said. “Just twirling—rhythmic gymnastics. It’s a type of dance that can be used for self-defense with staffs, rods, or sticks.” She had him find her a stick but felt uncomfortable as she demonstrated her lame sequence.
“Tha’ was great!” Elmot gushed, with a slight lisp from his swollen upper lip.
“Um. Yeah. Van,” Brux said. “You’re doing a high-level martial art called Koga-clava. It’s not taught to many people, and it’s difficult to master.”
Van was floored—and so exhausted from the venom, she couldn't even finish her routine.
“What happens if demons find some way to get here again?” Van asked, as she slumped back down onto the blanket. “How do we fight them?”
“Good question,” Trey said, running his fingers through his mussed-up hair. His training session with Jorie had ended. “We can’t kill them with hand-to-hand combat or by twirling sticks.”
“We won’t be able to anchor them either,” Jorie said. “For that, we’d need a modified Multi-Trac.” She bent down and picked up Zachery. “Grigori train for years to kill demons without generating any additional negative energy.”
“So what do we do?” Paley asked, still looking wan.
“We do our best. And be fast at it.” Jorie twirled Zachery in figure eights. “Listen. Light has a high vibration. If a demon is raised to a vibration higher than it can tolerate, the demon will explode and die. All demons can be killed by Light. This means we could use anything infused with Light or blessed by the Light—this is known as ritualized—such as Zachery here.” She gave Zachery a wave.
“How do you know this?” Trey asked.
“Did an internship at Lodestar. I’m on track to become a Grigori.” Jorie’s whole body glowed with pride.
Brux raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.”
Van felt a jealous pang seeing Brux’s enthusiasm over Jorie’s accomplishments. She tapped his arm to get his attention. “I don’t get it. If demons come here, they can’t survive because their vibration is too low. So why’s it a big deal?”
Shock of Fate: A Young Adult Fantasy Adventure (Anchoress Series Book 1) Page 16
