The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  I cleared my throat. “We’re at war, Damon…”

  “So, what? Those people were just casualties?” He threw down the hammer. “That’s it?”

  He and Eleuia both glared at us as if we were just as responsible for their deaths as Bryn and Roman. Maybe we were. I’d never stopped to think about how my presence, my compliance was somehow contributing to the violence happening outside these walls. Not just the violence Bryn and Roman had been relying on to survive but the violence that was gripping people in their sleep and crawling out of their dreams.

  Eleuia’s doubt lingered as she slipped through the sliding doors. Even with the language barrier she could still tell we were lying. After a moment, Damon picked up the hammer again. He wrung the neck, staring at the night between the cracks in the wall.

  The prick of needles raced across my skin, my body sensing the scream before I heard a sound. It erupted somewhere upstairs, Rafael dropping the stack of wood he was holding before chasing after it. Vogle quickly followed, Adham exploding behind him.

  Celia corralled the Rogues and their Dreamers in the living room, instinct forming a flaming perimeter around the room. I wanted to crawl inside their flames where it was safe but something pulled me up one step at a time, Dani clutching my arm as she followed. There was another scream and I slipped down one step, the voice clearer this time, igniting the memory of Yolotli bleeding out on Celia’s porch. He wasn’t the only Dreamer still sleeping upstairs but somehow I knew it was him.

  Vogle’s shadow bled out into the hall. I stepped into it. Yolotli was pinned to the bed by metal arms and legs, the bed half mattress, half machine. The sheets were ripped and soaking wet. Yolotli was soaked too, drowning in his own blood. It bubbled from his mouth, the last bit of air chased from his lungs. The metal arms yanked themselves free before folding under the bed, nothing left but a puff of smoke, the fog flexing into fingers before Rafael sent it to the ground.

  Dani’s fingers dug into my arm. “Eleuia.”

  She dragged me back into the hallway, down the stairs, and through the kitchen. Celia was already sweating; panting as she tried to drag Eleuia’s body out of sight.

  47

  Bryn

  There was no more train to carry Zaire’s family home. There were only trees. We wound between them, wind pushing us forward instead. I knew that at any moment I could stop. I could send Zaire’s mother and brother back to their village and I could take Zaire back to his body. But for some reason I kept walking.

  “Where are we taking them?” Roman finally asked.

  Zaire and his family were only a few paces behind us but I knew they couldn’t understand what Roman had asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, slowing.

  Zaire’s mother slowed too, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Shay pulled a canister from her belt and passed it around for everyone to drink while Roman and I took a step back, letting some low hanging branches shield us from sight.

  “It’s almost over,” Roman said, reminding me of the relief I’d felt just a few hours ago.

  I looked back at Zaire and his family. “He deserves to say goodbye to them.” My gaze fell. “But that would mean I’d have to tell him the truth.”

  “Are you afraid he’ll run?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Roman shrugged. “Is the truth worth the risk?”

  “When it’s the right thing to do, does it matter?”

  I broke a stick from one of the bushes, chucking it into the dark. There were so many Dreamers that hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye. I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what they would have wanted. If that’s what they deserved. I glanced back at Zaire, his eyes catching mine through the branches.

  “I want to do this right. For once.” Roman brushed a leaf from my shoulder and I caught his hand. “I’m done pretending like goodbyes don’t matter; like apologies are pointless. I’m sorry and I want him to know it.” Roman chased the cold from my cheeks. “But most of all…” my throat tightened, “I want him to know how much he’s loved before he goes. His family deserves the chance to tell him and he deserves the chance to hear it.”

  The rush of my pulse swallowed the sound, Zaire’s voice trapped beneath the beat of my heart. I heard nothing and felt everything, my throat to the pit of my stomach on fire.

  They stayed on their knees, tracing each other with their hands until they’d committed every inch to memory. Zaire scrubbed the tears from his mother’s face. She squeezed his hands and held them against her cheeks while Zaire’s little brother clutched at them both.

  Their screams sliced like blades, Roman’s breath like a ghost against my ear. He gripped me, speaking words I couldn’t understand.

  Bryn…Bryn…Bryn

  “Bryn…”

  I froze at the sound of his voice.

  “Bryn, they’ve had enough.” Panic charged his words, his cheeks wet. “It’s time, Bryn.”

  I took a shaking step toward Zaire.

  “Don’t go, Zaire.” His little brother wrung his shirt, hanging on it with all his weight. “Don’t go. Don’t go, Zaire.”

  “You have to be strong, ndeko.” Zaire grit his teeth, forcing an agonizing smile instead. “Please be strong for me. For mamá.”

  Zaire’s brother slammed his fists against Zaire’s chest. “But I don’t want you to go.”

  Zaire pulled him in close, squeezing tight until his cries were muffled between them. He stared at his mother for a long time and she stared back, stoic and empty. She barely breathed and when he squeezed her hand she barely moved. He spoke to her in a rush, the words too muddled, too broken for me to understand. She only blinked.

  “Mamá.” He choked, words tripping over the tears pooled at his lips. “Mamá, please.” He shook her. “Please.”

  She didn’t speak.

  “I’m going to find him, Mamá. He’ll be waiting for me. I know it.” He kissed her hands. “Papá will be waiting for me.” He kissed her on the cheek, her eyes still poised on the darkness. “I love you.” And then he stood.

  Before I could reach out a hand Zaire hurled himself in my direction. Time slowed, forcing me to focus on his face. Beneath the tears it was broken and brave, our collision as bright as it was brief. Zaire ran straight through me as I split him in two, the dreams slamming into me from all sides as I sent him back to his body.

  In his absence I was tangled in his grief, the memory of old wounds like a snare around my heart. I saw Zaire’s brother being born and his father being murdered and his mother carrying a weight no human ever should. His memories raced until there was nothing but footprints in mud, the light of the moon igniting a path straight…to Anso.

  I waited for him to speak, for his eyes to find my face in a memory he’d designed specifically for me. But as he drank from Zaire, tearing at him with the desperation of someone who only hungered for one thing, he didn’t stop to search for me. He didn’t stop to taunt or threaten me. He didn’t stop…not until he realized that Zaire’s blood was just another weapon to add to the list of things that were incapable of breaking his curse.

  When he dropped Zaire and then dropped to his knees, blood turned to tears and slipping down his cheeks, I realized that he hadn’t planted the memory on purpose. Someone else was showing it to me instead.

  As the vision let go of me, all I could feel was my heart punching against my ribs, trying to break free. Hands fitted beneath my arms and my pulse finally slowed, the memories ripping to shreds until all that was left was Roman.

  His touch led me back to the present, to the forest and the trees and the…

  “Stars.”

  Zaire’s mother knelt in front of her son. He was crying. And pointing.

  At the edge of the forest, where storm clouds were just beginning to sweep it black, there were eyes peering out at us. Bloodstained, gleaming.

  The color wasn’t canine and they were too high, too narrow set to be anything animal. No. They were…

  �
�Human,” Roman breathed.

  “Were human,” Andre said, his voice just as low.

  I took one step toward Zaire’s family, toward the faces in the distance. “They’re dead.”

  Shay followed, squinting. “Undead.”

  “Don’t you recognize them?”

  Sweat froze against my spine. Sebastían was almost invisible among the trees, shadows slithering out and revealing him in pieces.

  “You’re waking things that don’t want to be woken.” Sebastían’s mouth never moved and I realized that the others hadn’t heard him. “Do you even feel it happening?” His eyes strayed and then he smiled. “You must not if you’re wasting time saving humans instead of finding Dreamers.” The smile disappeared. “Did you already give up?”

  I didn’t understand which wounds he was trying to poke at. Anso needed me to find the Dreamers. He needed me to fulfill my part of the prophecy if he wanted any chance at breaking his curse. But Sebastían was being driven by something else.

  I examined him—every tremble, every twitch. “He has her, doesn’t he?”

  Sebastían’s face twisted. Whatever fear or anger he’d been feeling rushed to the surface, veins visible as he tried to speak. “You…” He moved closer and I braced for the first blow, for one of us to finally explode. “You think it’s working, don’t you? You think you can get in my head.” He stole another inch. “He showed me where you took her.”

  “What…?” I eased back, foot snagging on the root of a tree.

  Sebastían’s face twisted. “He showed me your lies.”

  His voice knocked me down and I scrambled onto my elbows. Roman was frozen, his eyes on Sebastían as a mild flame barely burned beneath his skin. Andre was trapped too, his muscles stretched, his teeth gritted. Shay was caught mid-step in the direction of Zaire’s mother and brother. They blinked, shaking, as shadows swirled over their heads, the only ones still moving.

  “The war’s not just out here anymore.” Sebastían tapped his forehead. “It’s in here too.” He approached Roman, circling him. “I wonder what he’s fighting right now.”

  “Don’t touch him.” The words were a reflex.

  Sebastían glared back. “I don’t have to.”

  I remembered watching Sebastían syphon the fear from Anso’s guard before turning himself into a monster. He’d beaten the guard until he was bloody, until he was a boy again trapped and helpless in a childhood nightmare. He’d summoned my nightmares too, weaving the vines until I was almost lost in them. But he hadn’t lured those fears from my memories. He’d found them in Anso’s.

  Sebastían grinned, marveling at the strain behind Roman’s eyes. “Anything with memories…anything with a pulse is afraid of something.” He looked up at the trees, casting a wind through the branches.

  They seized, shedding their leaves, bending and reaching. Zaire’s mother was snatched up by her arm; his brother knotted by one of the low-hanging branches before I could even blink.

  “Let them go!” I charged Sebastían, his thoughts stopping me before shuddering to life like an old film, the blank night a backdrop for the trees’ fears.

  They cowered from an invisible lightning storm, each strike making them tighten their hold, each drum of thunder chasing down to the roots. Zaire’s mother was strangled, arms falling limp as her skin turned blue. She couldn’t see the lightning. From the canopy, branches tangled in her hair and around her throat, all she could see was me.

  She stared, helpless. I stared back and then I screamed, the sound cracking, every gnash of my teeth, every flex of my muscles casting electric sparks. I channeled Kascidee’s dreams and the forest turned blue, a web of light stretching from the tips of my fingers to the floor, to the canopy. I painted the trunks of the trees, not trying to scald them but to loosen their grip. I eased the electricity into the bark, ring by ring until I could sense Zaire’s mother take a breath.

  The trees strained from the electric current, thrashing and jumping at every jolt. The current wound tighter and then the trees went dark. I went dark. I swam in it, drifting…drifting deeper into black. I hung like an ornament in the center of my own mind and then I saw him.

  At first, Sebastían was just a silhouette, brimming with light and shadow; swimming in darkness too. It carried him in my direction.

  “He said it would take longer for you to let me in.”

  My lips parted, no air, no words coming out.

  He lifted a finger. “Don’t speak.” He looked up and out, marveling at the blankness. “This is where it’s been sleeping.” He lost his breath. “This is where every single monster has woken up.” He tsk’d. “And you still can’t control them. You can hardly even control yourself.”

  Get out. Get out.

  I pushed back against the silence, against his grip around my thoughts.

  “Do you hear it?” He closed his eyes, honing in on the sound.

  It grazed my senses too. A faint growling reverberated within the darkness.

  He opened his eyes, staring straight into the black. “Do you want to see it?” His voice turned my head in the same direction, my neck straining against his force. “Your monster.”

  Get out.

  Get out.

  Eyes burned red from some dark corner of my mind. They danced, inching closer until they looked more human than beast. Until they looked like…me.

  Get out.

  I pushed against Sebastían, his thoughts around me tightening. I boiled, the darkness we’d been floating in churning with heat and steam and bubbles, the faintest sparks igniting below the surface.

  Get. Out.

  He stared down at the current, his arms forced to keep him afloat. I cast out a net, latticed lightning wrapping around his arms and yanking him under.

  GET. OUT.

  The light burned white, tightening around him, and then I pulled. I waited for him to stiffen, to fall still. To sink. His hand broke the surface and latched onto my arm, hurling the charge back into my skin until it was knotted and screaming and…

  The night was quiet and so was my skin. I flexed my fingers. I stretched. I felt the earth beneath my feet. I heard my own thoughts instead of his voice.

  The Rogues began to rustle, their flames finally untamed and tossing a dull light over the bodies.

  The bodies…

  My knees met the hard ground, their skin stiff yet still warm. I pulled Zaire’s mother’s arm onto her son. I brushed the leaves from his cheek.

  Roman fell too, breathing ragged from whatever he’d been fighting. By the look on his face I couldn’t tell who’d won. Shay fell next to him. Then Andre.

  “I couldn’t move.” Andre slammed a fist against the trunk of the tree.

  “None of us could,” Shay said.

  I buried my hands in the soil and the roots retreated, carving a hole big enough for two. I let it cradle Zaire’s family, soil spilling over their faces as I buried mine in Roman’s shoulder.

  “They’re together,” he whispered.

  I choked. “They’re dead.”

  “Because of Sebastían.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue. “He thinks we have his Rogue. Anso’s been planting things in his head—fears, nightmares—and now Sebastían’s trying to plant them in ours too.”

  “I felt him,” Roman said.

  I wanted to ask what horrible memories Sebastían had been able to drag to the surface. I knew Roman had probably seen his mother or maybe even me. He looked down before I could examine them further and I just didn’t have the courage or maybe the malice to drag him back there.

  “He knows where Lathan’s safe house is.” Andre sighed. “I tried to fight him off but he was steering the worry like a ship. It took all of my energy to keep him from seeing Olivia.”

  “It’s okay, Andre,” Shay said.

  “Do you think he’s headed there now?” Roman asked.

  A breeze traced my throat before lifting my chin. I looked up at the trees, what was left of the leaves
glinting black and white.

  Roman stood. “What is that?”

  There was no beam of light, no projector screen like the one in my memories. The faces played along the canopy instead. Lathan’s. Valentina’s.

  “He’s watching them.”

  The breeze climbed behind my ear, whispering.

  “No.” I shook my head, stomping over charred tree roots, trying to shake from Sebastían’s grasp. I could feel his sight like the tip of a flame, his thoughts tossing it against mine. “He’s watching us.”

  48

  Felix

  Oswald Grimly was the opposite of discreet. He was arrogant and desperate for attention. Any attention. It didn’t take much to drag him from his safe house in the middle of an apocalypse. Just an electronic inquiry from a phony news station that wanted to celebrate his bravery and share his knowledge of all things demon with a cowering population that wanted nothing more than something or someone to blame for the end of the world.

  I monitored Oswald’s flight and then followed his GPS as he was dropped at a hotel. He updated his demon-hunting website with coordinates of possible sightings and claimed that his hotline had been ringing off the hook. Then silence.

  “It’s been over an hour,” Adham said.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Cole asked.

  I shrugged. “Napping?”

  “No way,” Cole said. “He wouldn’t waste valuable primping time like that. The guy’s got an ego the size of that tsunami that hit Alaska.”

  Adham frowned. “You mean the one that left almost a thousand people dead and a thousand more missing?”

  I wanted to say that if we weren’t careful, Oswald and his tsunami-sized ego could do even more damage. But I could tell by the look on Adham’s face that it wouldn’t have been appropriate.

  Every time one of us pinned up another thread, marking another disaster, Adham’s first thought was always about the dead: how many, who they were, if they were mostly children or the sick or another totally helpless and innocent population. I’d been measuring each disaster in miles but he’d been measuring them in bodies.