Unseen

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  My observation garnered his anger; his nostrils flared, and his wild eyes still glowed.

  “I have my reasons.”

  With that, he quickly turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the massive wooden door behind him to punctuate his exit. Without the light of his dimly glowing eyes, I found myself alone in the darkness. I doubted that Oz would go far, not in light of his recent admission and his anger at my perceived stupidity. Most likely he would hover nearby, skulking in the shadows, waiting for danger to strike or for me to fall victim to my own error in judgment.

  What he did leave in his wake was doubt, something I was terribly unfamiliar with. I did not want to give credence to his accusations, but I could not shake the feeling that perhaps he was not entirely wrong. That my previous ability to think rationally was being eclipsed by my rising emotions and that I was blind to it. If that was indeed the case, maybe having someone as cold, callous, and calculating as Oz watching out for me was not the worst fate imaginable.

  Failing those who needed me, however, would have been.

  25

  “I would like to say good-bye to my—”

  “You had your chance to do that, but instead, you vacuumed up an entire swarm of dead into your body,” he snarled, walking a pace or two ahead of me toward the Great Hall and presumably the Acheron. “You squandered your opportunity, so don’t whine to me that you didn’t get to say good-bye to Daddy.”

  “I do not whine,” I argued, spitting the words out with great disdain.

  “Good. Don’t start.”

  The halls were virtually empty as we made our way to the cliffs that the Acheron cut its way through. There was no Deimos. No Hades. No Persephone. Perhaps my taking in the Oudeis had created a peace of sorts in the Underworld already—at least for now. Persephone had said that she would find a way to restore my father’s powers. I hoped she would do so in my absence. Perhaps if all was well soon, I could return to see her and collect on her end of our bargain.

  Knowing that I was one step closer to getting my brother back and the answers I sought, if only somewhat so, quickened my pace. Even with the looming dangers that could be awaiting our arrival above, I still felt a small sense of joy deep in my heart. It made me certain that I did in fact hold my brother’s soul within me. And soon I would get to see that joy in his expression once again.

  It was not long before I could see our destination, the boys and Aery standing where they had been instructed to, waiting for our arrival. The Acheron was the final hurdle to be crossed before reaching the gate that divided the dead from the living—that which could not be crossed without one of the few who could freely traverse it. And with every step I took toward it, an odd pressure grew within me.

  Unease.

  Unrest.

  Upheaval.

  I flexed and stretched my fingers repeatedly, trying to distract my body from the dissonance that coursed throughout it. My efforts were in vain. Nothing could drown out the discord vibrating in every cell in my body.

  Oz, eyeing my antics through his peripheral vision, stopped, turning his full attention to me. As the others continued on, he stared at me, assessing my actions with his piercing gaze.

  “Something is wrong,” he said, not asking but telling me so.

  “I think I am anxious, perhaps. The feeling is strange, but I imagine this is what it would feel like.”

  “How exactly do you feel?”

  “Fidgety. A growing pressure in my chest.”

  “Do you fear what is to come when you return to the world above?” he asked, still staring right through me.

  “No. I do not think so.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he muttered. “You fear nothing—feel nothing.”

  “I feel,” I refuted. “You acknowledged that yourself. I feel far more than you could fathom. Far more than you do, of that I am certain.”

  He thrust his shadowy features in my face, clenching his teeth so tightly that I could hear them grinding under the pressure.

  “Then you know nothing,” he growled, pulling away just as quickly as he had advanced. “Your nerves are getting to you, though I cannot imagine why. Perhaps you are uneasy about leaving Hades alone. That worry would not be misplaced. He is vulnerable here, as you said. Your harebrained idea of clearing the Oudeis may not have been so ill conceived after all. Not if you wish to see Hades alive again.”

  “Then we must not delay. The sooner we are out of this place, the safer he shall be.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “As you wish, princess,” he mocked, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture while he took a reverent bow. His distaste for the name my father called me by was plain. Something else tainted his tone when he said that word. There was bite to it. I could not ascertain why.

  I walked around him, giving him a wide berth. The others were off in the distance, already standing on the bank of the Acheron. They looked back at us expectantly, undoubtedly knowing that whatever discussion Oz and I were having was not a pleasant one.

  “Problem?” Kierson called, starting to head back toward me as I approached him. His concern was plain, though it could not conceal the wariness that lingered behind it when his eyes fell upon Oz. Distrust of him was pervasive. Even Aery, infatuated though she was, seemed to navigate away from him whenever possible. Oz exuded a silent warning with his mere presence.

  “No,” I replied calmly, scratching my arm as I neared him. The nerves along my skin fired relentlessly, the sensation nearly maddening.

  “You sure?” he asked, curiously watching me as I nearly tore my skin off, raking my fingernails viciously across my forearm.

  “I seem a bit agitated. Nervous. I am sure it will pass once we are back in Detroit.”

  “Well, here goes nothing,” Aery called, scooping Casey up and leaping over the raging river in one graceful movement. She returned immediately for Kierson, whose smile turned as mischievous as Aery’s when she went to take his arm.

  “I like this one,” he whispered to me with a wink.

  “I am not at all surprised,” I replied, feeling Oz’s dark form step closely behind me. Too closely. While I watched Aery guide Kierson safely across the perilous river, Oz dropped his mouth to my ear, whispering to me softly. His voice was seductive and terrifying.

  “They are perfect for each other, are they not?” he asked, his breath hot on my ear. I nodded once as his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me uncomfortably tight against him. “Some beings are so suited for one another that their call will be answered, no matter what divides them—what stands in their way. It defies all rules. All natural law.”

  “All sanity,” I whispered, not realizing the words were even a thought in my mind until they escaped my mouth.

  “Sanity is overrated,” he purred, squeezing me so tightly that I could barely breathe. “Time to go, new girl.”

  With that, he took to the air, swooping over the Acheron in seconds with the intent to place me down gently on the opposing bank. But as we reached the shore, something went wrong—terribly, inexplicably wrong.

  And we were all about to pay for it.

  26

  I collapsed to the ground, my body limp and lifeless—paralyzed.

  Kierson was at my side in a second, scooping me up in his arms while Oz hovered over us both ominously, dark wings still spread wide, sheltering me from an unseen danger. But there would be no protecting me from the danger that threatened. It was not possible. How could one protect me from an evil trapped within myself?

  That question proved irrelevant far too quickly, for what I carried inside me soon escaped.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kierson shouted, trying to hold me still while my body convulsed.

  “Step away,” Oz said, snapping his wings to their farthest reaches, punctuating his command. The shadow they cast blocked out what little light had been present. I could feel Kierson’s hesitation.

  Unlike when my gentle kiss sealed Oz’s fate, passing a darkness
into him that his soul could not withstand, the ghostly dead erupted from me as I lay on the ground, clutched in Kierson’s arms, retching violently. I could not breathe while they purged themselves from deep within me, though I fought to do so with great effort. An unholy sound accompanied their liberation, announcing the event for all to hear—the jubilation of foulness trampled through my throat on its path to freedom.

  “Get back!” Oz yelled over the commotion. This time, Kierson obeyed him.

  Alone on the stony shore of the Acheron, I clawed at my throat ferociously, trying to abate the choking sensation I felt. My eyes bulged wildly. The veins in my face throbbed. I needed air if I desired to live long enough to undo the wrong I was in the process of doing.

  When my torment subsided, I collapsed to the ground, greedy for air. My face down and sheltered with my arms, I could not see the magnitude of what I had unleashed. But once my lungs were filled enough for me to move, I pressed myself up and took stock of my surroundings.

  Chaos did not begin to describe the scene.

  Ghostly, transparent forms crashed upon our tiny group like a tsunami on a shore. The wave of attack was loud and immediate and punishing, scattering us in its wake. Disoriented, I searched the haze for the others. Casey roared his battle cry, and my eyes fell on him immediately, his form standing stoically yards away from me. Then, suddenly, he was silenced. A cloud of the dead engulfed him, cutting off his call to arms. I could see his mouth opened wide, suspended while the sound escaped him, but it was drowned out by the terrible screeching of those that had escaped. Those that I had released.

  They moved with dizzying speed; their combined form was a foggy blur as they rushed around us. Most were headed for the gate. Others continued to encircle us individually, unable to resist the temptation we provided. Whatever traits they had possessed in life remained present in death. The most depraved of all wanted revenge and cared not who they rained it down upon.

  “Pull together!” Kierson screamed. I frantically looked for him, finally catching a glimpse of him as he backed toward Casey, sword drawn. The fiery light that had been muted by the souls’ presence flickered occasionally off the long blade—a beacon calling to the rest of our party. Trying to make my way to them, I watched as he and Casey came together, the two moving as though they were one. It was how they fought when together, how they had done so for centuries. But, unlike their past opponents, this time they fought the dead. They soon found that their efforts were futile. Every strike, every blow, was wasted, cutting through a misty nothingness. The souls could not be slain.

  Looking on helplessly, I soon found myself adrift in that evil fog, wandering toward my brothers, though I seemingly gained no ground. Instead, I felt herded by the dead, led into isolation as though they were working as one, setting a plan in motion. My ability to see my brothers decreased as the distance between us grew. Aery was nowhere to be found. As for Oz, I wondered if he had left us to our fate when the maelstrom erupted. It was not as if he was above desertion. He had betrayed my brothers before, though never me. The fact that he might be willing to do just that in the face of the havoc I had unleashed was a harsh reality to swallow indeed. Despite my general cynicism where Oz was concerned, I could not deny that even I would not have thought him capable of abandoning me to that fate.

  Perhaps it was a long overdue wake-up call.

  When the souls had me completely secluded, no longer able to see those accompanying me back to Earth’s surface, the swarm of dead surrounding me became all-consuming, their voices increasingly clear. Their message, however, proved disjointed and enigmatic. The sentiments they wished to convey came across in disconnected fragments, nonsensical in and of themselves. Though when my mind began to filter through the gibberish and piece it together slowly, one sentence echoed through my consciousness.

  See his kingdom fall.

  They were the army of darkness.

  Once I had deciphered the phrase, it was all I heard around me, my ears ringing with its warning. I was entranced by the taunts of the damned, paralyzed by the implications if they proved true. In my stupor, I had not realized that their torture of me extended beyond the psychological until a repetitive, sharp pain nipped at my skin, slicing my clothes and body with razorlike teeth. Caught within the swirl of the damned that enveloped me, I could not ascertain how it was happening. The dead had no solid form. No vehicle through which to impart that kind of torment.

  Searching the cloud around me for answers, I saw something—an inky-black blur slicing through the fog. With every pass of what appeared to be a ghostly blade, the terrorizing mist thinned. The souls were disappearing.

  I squinted in an effort to see what was happening—who wielded this weapon of death—but I still could not discern who fought the mass of dead so fiercely.

  Until he spoke my name.

  “Khara!” Oz shouted, clearing my head. “For fuck’s sake, collect your brothers and take them back to your father. Now!” I stood unmoving, still searching for his form amid the clearing haze. Suddenly, a blinding light cut through it, becoming ever brighter as he stormed toward me. I lifted my arm to shield my gaze from his blazing white orbs as they approached. “Get Kierson and Casey across the Acheron or your brothers will perish,” he boomed. “You have already lost Drew. Would you risk the others? Would you risk yourself?” His voice was not his own. It was cruel and dark and motivating. And it snapped my attention back to those the dead had alienated me from.

  “I cannot cross it,” I shouted, my eyes closed and averted from the piercing light radiating from his own.

  “Aery is waiting on the shore,” he growled. “Go. Now. I will not suffer your insubordination.”

  With the turn of his head, my eyes gained reprieve from the punishing brightness and slowly opened. Once they adapted to their surroundings, I could see Oz, slicing through the terrible evil engulfing us with his broad wings. With every pass, he cleared a path through the dead, their transparent forms disappearing into the ether. He brought true death with his darkness. A death that did not end with a place in the Underworld. It was then that I truly understood why the Dark Ones were so feared.

  Not even my father could eliminate a soul completely.

  Wishing to avoid Oz’s wrath, I did as he bade me and set off toward my brothers, or at least in the direction I thought them to be. There were still myriad souls circling me, though they were dropping quickly. Some seemed to be attempting to escape, hurrying toward the gate, while others remained undaunted in their attack. It appeared that I could not be harmed by them, which made me question their motivation. But when I was able to locate my brothers at last, I better understood the damned’s reasons for staying.

  Casey and Kierson were not faring well at all under the siege of the dead.

  Instinctively, I ran toward them, screaming their names. When I could see them more clearly, I knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Casey’s ears were bleeding; a thick reddish-black substance ran down his neck. He was barely able to stand. Kierson had his arm wrapped under our failing brother’s shoulder, though he, too, was succumbing to the torment of the damned. Blood hemorrhaged from his nose at an alarming rate, and his gait faltered with every pass of the swirling haze. I heard him scream against it, which seemed to deter the assaults on the duo, if only for a moment. If Oz could not get to them quickly enough to slay the souls, or I could not help them get to Aery and across the Acheron, I feared that they would go mad or be lost. I deemed neither outcome acceptable.

  Amid the chaos, I tried to focus, thinking of how I had cowed the souls that ran amok when Oz and I arrived in the Underworld. Whatever power I had exerted over them should have, in theory, extended to the souls now attacking us as well. I tapped into my frustration, my fear, my doubt. I brought myself to the mental place I occupied when I could not find my father. When I feared he was dead.

  And then I screamed. The shrill cry of despair muted the souls that surrounded us. Just as it had before, it paralyzed
the dead. I slowly turned, taking in their ghostly, slack expressions before I ran to my brothers, hooking Casey’s other arm up over my shoulder to aid him. He was barely ambulatory.

  “What . . . was that?” Kierson wheezed, staggering forward as he tried to carry the rest of Casey’s weight.

  “Something I have done before,” I said simply, guiding us toward the shore, which I could now clearly see. As we neared it, I hazarded a glance over my shoulder to find Oz easily picking off the dead one by one. He was taking his time now, taunting them as they had my brothers and me. The sheer rapture he found in the elimination of the enemy was awe-inspiring. His eyes glowed with delight.

  Returning my focus to the task at hand, I led us the rest of the way to Aery, who stood at the water’s edge, awaiting our arrival. She looked rattled by what had just broken out around her.

  “I will take him first,” she called out, reaching for Casey. With a delicate, graceful leap, she bounded over the vast river, gently placing Casey’s tortured body down on the opposite bank. She returned in the same manner to collect Kierson, then delivered him to the other side. When it came time to get me, she looked across the Acheron, a nervous smile overtaking her countenance. “I think you have your own ride,” she called across the river.

  I turned to find Oz running across the barren ground toward me, wings spread fearsomely around him. There was not a stray soul to be seen in his wake.

  “That seems a rather handy trick, new girl,” he said with a smirk. “Not that I required your help.”

  “I did not do it for you,” I informed him, bringing my attention back to the wounded warriors across the river. “I did it for them. This was an evil they could not fight. Could not slay. They were not meant to fight that which populates the Underworld. Not even Casey, who was born of it.”

  “Surprising, isn’t it? To see the weakness in those you deem so capable.”