The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  Sebastían stomped through the emptiness. He spun, one look wrenching me onto my feet.

  “It’s too late.” His thoughts slithered like a fist around my throat. “Whoever you’re trying to save…it’s too late.” His eyes burned red, shapes floating in his irises that looked like buildings and smoke and fire. “Do you want to see it?” His grip around me loosened and I clutched my knees, panting. “Do you want to see what you’ve done?”

  The memories playing behind his eyes leapt into the forest like concrete demons, Roman and I hanging on each other as we tried to keep our balance. Burning buildings took the place of the trees as smoke gave way to crumbling streets and bleeding bodies. The center of the city was a graveyard.

  The landscape changed, waves crashing over my feet. They were thick and black like oil, bodies floating in them, a few still crying out. Sebastían hurled us straight into white, lines carving hospital walls and beds. People lay in them, attached to machines that no longer worked, waiting on nurses and doctors that were nowhere to be found. He dragged us past children, abandoned, cold, starving. We wound through the wandering elderly, delusions chasing them through corridor after corridor.

  The walls pulled apart and the air was so thick I could hardly breathe. The trees around us had shriveled to sharp spines, the leaves made of blades. People travelled in packs, shivering against every sharp point. The trees shivered back, lurching for bare skin, picking people off one by one. They were shredded like paper, devoured.

  The trees slithered back into the soil, the shadows of giants descending on a stretch of city lights. I could hear the screams from where we stood. When I finally saw the city up close, people lay static on benches and sidewalks, in chairs at restaurants and slumped into carts at the grocery store. Something long and white slithered beneath their clothes, climbing from opened mouths and ears and behind their eyes.

  The city collapsed in smoke and we stood in a desert. Monsters clawed out of the ground, their bones cracking and skin stretching. Some lumbered on all fours while others took to the sky, the beat of their wings knocking me back. Everywhere I looked the landscape was split, sewn together by invisible seams. I was trapped in a kaleidoscope of nightmares, watching them wake, watching them devour everything.

  “Those aren’t the only monsters you’ve created.”

  Sebastian’s voice was like a slingshot, hurling us headfirst into another nightmare. The monsters shrunk, slimming into a human hoard. Something invisible separated them, the battlefield pocked with smoke and flames and bodies. I scanned the crowd for what was ripping them to shreds but all I saw were guns. Hatchets. Grenades. Knives. Shards of glass. Kitchen utensils and rope and pitchforks and whatever else people could fashion into weapons. Everyone was armed and everyone was angry.

  “Do you want to know why they’re fighting?”

  Sebastian’s voice nudged my gaze, the street clearing just long enough to reveal the damaged storefronts, glass glittering against the pavement. Crackling radio signals attached to people’s hips gave life to the silent televisions still humming in a bar to our left. The bottles had all been smashed, bar top dripping in syrup. Above the mess was me.

  My face.

  The story about Roman and I was still playing on a loop. Every screen. Every channel.

  “Stations must be abandoned,” Roman breathed.

  Someone screamed. A woman fell onto her hands and knees as a man ran past, glass still gripped in his fist. I couldn’t tell if the red stains against the tip belonged to him or her, both of them painting the pavement with blood. He was wearing a black t-shirt that said, “There Are Gods Among Us. And They Are Very Angry.” The woman was clutching a rosary, breathless as she stuttered out a prayer.

  “Oswald,” Roman growled.

  I scanned the ones still fighting, their clothes or their skin or their screams evidence of Oswald’s warnings. He’d told them Roman was something to fear—a demon, a god—but they weren’t fighting demons.

  I rushed through the crowd, examining the ones who had already fallen, the ones who were dead. Some held rosaries or other religious tokens but for the most part they had no markings. No allegiances I could see.

  There was a large pyre up ahead, flames so bright I had to shield my eyes. It was surrounded by Oswald’s pseudo-soldiers, standing guard. We cut through them, unseen, and then I saw what they were guarding.

  The girl hung from ropes and a block of wood. She’d been stripped of everything but her wings. They frayed, made of paper and catching the flames, the edges glinting with store-bought glitter. She wasn’t an angel. Just a girl who wanted to feel like one. Who wanted to believe in one. In me.

  “Bryn…” My name fell out of Roman as delicately as a faulty grenade. Just as quiet. Just as dangerous.

  Before I could choke on the sight of her burning. Before I could set Oswald’s soldiers ablaze too, Sebastían slithered inside me again.

  “Do you want to see what’s left?”

  His voice ignited a wind that carried us to another street in another city. This one was alive in a different way, lights still flickering in the windows of houses, people still brave enough to be on the streets. Talking. Laughing. Holding each other.

  I searched for destruction, wondering what was an illusion and what was real.

  “What’s happening?” Roman said.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I took a step out onto the street, waiting for a false seam, for the entire thing to suddenly unravel.

  “You feel something here?” Roman asked.

  I nodded, still not sure exactly what.

  The first tremor was so deep I barely even felt it, the cobblestone quaking between my feet. I shoved Roman out of the way just as the ground between us split.

  A couple on the street slipped and Roman lurched forward, grabbing the woman’s hand. Her legs hung into the void, pieces of rock snapping off. The man she’d been walking with tumbled, his voice carving straight through me as he fell into nothing.

  Another crack ignited down the road, racing towards us. It split the stone just beneath my palm, cutting under a young girl who was sprawled out and in tears. The ground shuddered and then it swallowed her.

  I crawled forward, locking eyes with Roman before diving in after her. The weightlessness turned my stomach and I couldn’t remember how to breathe. My hands scrambled for rocks and roots, snagging on them as I tumbled down. One caught on my wrist, another snatching me up by the ankle. I could sense the entire root system reaching for me, my mind drawing them out of the rocks and pulling them taut until I heard every scream come to an abrupt stop.

  My eyes poured light into the cavern below as a thick root reached out and curled around my waist. It held me there as I peered down, the light slipping like drops of rain until I could see every face staring back at me. I looked up, people dangling by a wrist or an ankle, the roots rising up to meet them. They were still shifting, strengthening their hold, and I let out a deep breath before they wound around us too tight.

  I gripped the stone next to me, repelling down until I could reach the little girl. Cries echoed in the darkness I’d left behind; people too afraid to tear free from the roots that were the only thing keeping them safe. The cries turned to words, people hurling them at me, desperate and afraid.

  I took the girl in my arms, blood trickling from her forehead. I pulled her hair back and the gash breathed, blood pouring into my hands.

  “Please…” A voice trembled behind me. “Help…help us.”

  I pressed my finger to the girl’s wound, imaging the skin drawing together, the blood flowing back into her body. Sounds pinged within the cavern, people growing frantic, afraid of falling any second. I tried to keep my hold on all of them, still manipulating the root system within the rocks.

  I drew the root around the girl’s waist until we were knotted together and then we started to rise. The roots beneath us rose too, people drawing out of the darkness. Shadows moved around the edge of the hole
, people peering down, helping others climb out.

  But below the sounds of reunion and relief, there were stirrings in the deepest part of the cavern. The stone quaked, new cracks igniting and cutting straight through the roots. My ears were drawn to every slap of flesh against stone; every scream. But then their cries were cut short.

  The little girl moaned, her head rolling against my chest. I held her tight as the sound of static filled the empty space. The vines turned black and then so did the people hanging below us, the darkness choking them before they could scream.

  I held my breath, my skin already crawling as I watched the fog ascend. And then so did we. I sent us up in a rush, people clinging to the roots, all of us trying to claw our way to the top. I could finally make out the red face of the moon and that was when I heard Roman’s voice. He was hanging into the hole, his hands outstretched the moment he saw us.

  Another crack struck like lightning, knocking the air from my lungs as the roots dropped us a few feet. I held out a hand, trying to pull from the energy that was already dancing between Roman and me. I felt him pulling too, dragging me towards him with every ounce of strength. His hand caught my arm, his other hand taking the girl and hurling her into her mother’s embrace just as the hole began to widen.

  One root let go of me, then another. Roman had me by the arm, my feet dangling as the people below me disappeared. He heaved me over the side, stone breaking off beneath my stomach, the emptiness chasing me as I crawled towards solid ground.

  “What is that?” Roman said.

  The fog washed out onto the street, the hole a geyser that sent it crashing towards us like waves. Roman and I latched onto each other as we hurdled over cracks and holes that were still widening and hungry.

  We past dead ends where bodies were already limp and bloated with whatever was permeating the air. Roman knocked down a wooden fence that separated us from the next street. It was full of people, everyone running as the fog didn’t just sprout from the cracks in the ground but from the gutters and broken windows.

  A force struck me from behind. When I turned there was nothing but a harsh wind trying to bend me in two. We braced ourselves against it, so fierce that I could barely peer past the dust and debris. The funnel rose over the buildings, ripping them to shreds from the top down.

  “What the…”

  The wind tore Roman’s voice apart, not even the sound of my own pulse making it past the storm. The cyclone grew, lightning striking near the center as it darkened from white to grey to black. It was so deep it was almost violet, flickers of other colors igniting in the clouds like the glistening feathers of a crow.

  Roman yanked on my arm, his mouth open but no sound coming out. He tried to pull me into a run but my feet were fixed. He stared, confused, and all I could do was shake my head. He mouthed something else, almost angry.

  Bricks catapulted just over our heads, sheetrock spinning like a propeller just a few feet away. The cyclone swelled until it was an infinite wall that stretched from one end of the sky to the other, destroying everything in its path as it marched towards me. This close I could see their outlines, the wind spinning with something familiar. Shadows.

  Roman pressed his mouth to my ear. “Please.”

  I took Roman’s face in my hands and he tried to pull my fingers away. He knew what I was doing; the goodbye already perched on my lips.

  I kissed him and then I let go, pushing through the wind, concentrating not on the shrapnel or the force or what might be waiting for me in the eye of the storm, but on steeling Roman back. Not because I was still angry or still running. But because I loved him. Alma’s vision still clung to the back of my mind. It was only a matter of time before my nightmares woke too, which meant that I had to get him as far away from me and from Sebastían as possible.

  Dust thickened between us and I was glad that I couldn’t see his face, the betrayal there. I hurled him back towards Vogle and Celia and Rafael and the other Rogues, towards Dani and Felix and Adham and Cole. Towards home. And then I stepped to the wall of shadows, the winter parting like a curtain.

  The wind twisted me until I couldn’t breathe and I closed my eyes, placing something even stronger than stone between me and its current. The wind finally settled until it was just a deep howl ripping past my ears.

  Sebastían emerged, the storm rippling past his clothes as if it were just a light breeze. The moment he saw me he smiled.

  “Did you see the way they crawled out of you?” he said. “Could you feel it?”

  “Stop this…”

  Those first words felt wasted. He examined me, circling, his body maneuvering the shadows around us until we were trapped in a quiet stillness that made my stomach turn.

  “There’s only one way to end this, Bryn. You ripped a seam between worlds and there’s only one way to stitch it back together.”

  I tracked his every move, every muscle in my body tensed and waiting. “Where is he?” I said, trying to hide the panic in my voice. If this was really the end there was no way Anso would miss it.

  Sebastían paused. “He’s coming.”

  Sebastían’s eyes washed white and when he blinked he was wearing someone else’s body. Or someone else was wearing him. My thoughts quieted, someone else’s consciousness driving them down and that’s when I noticed that my hands were not my own. I stared at the strange face in front of me, into the eyes that reflected back something even stranger.

  “kiik…” The boy cooed. Sister.

  The wind stilled, the vortex barely turning around us. Time began to crawl before stopping completely, even my pulse following suit. Or maybe I just didn’t exist in the physical sense anymore. Maybe I was only there, watching through Anso’s daughter’s eyes as some kind of bystander or vessel. Maybe both.

  She spoke with my lungs. “It’s been a long time.”

  Scars rose on my arms as anger flared up inside both of us. Every old bruise and wound tore across me until I looked like a map of constellations. Her brother could hardly look at me and I knew that was what she wanted.

  “Do you want an apology?” he said, staring down at his own skin, identical wounds clawing across him.

  “Why did you wake me?” she said. “After all this time.”

  He pressed a finger to my skull and said, “I didn’t.”

  54

  Dani

  A new group of Rogues was attending superhero orientation in Celia’s living room. Apparently, Vogle was now integrating props to help him explain their origin story. The first few Rogues with questions even raised their hands, their relief at finally receiving an education in who and what they were making them the ideal student—attentive, terrified. Unfortunately, the truth about the Rogues did little to quell their fears about the future. Because every time Vogle got to that part of the story he was forced to admit that he wasn’t certain if we actually had one.

  “Can you finish pouring these drinks?” Celia leaned against the kitchen counter, cheeks flushed. She dabbed at her face with the wet rag she’d been using to dry the dishes.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  She squeezed my hand, her own clammy. “Fine. Just tired, that’s all. I’m going to check on Stassi before I try to get some rest.”

  Stassi had been watching over Bryn’s body for the past hour, performing her ritual of reviving Bryn’s memories. But she’d been in there a while and I was starting to worry too.

  Celia untied her apron. “Will you be alright welcoming the Rogues as they arrive?”

  I nodded. “I can do that.”

  She examined my face, reading the worry I’d been ignoring since Felix left. Then she unfolded my fingers, placing a stone identical to the “good luck” charms she’d given Felix and Adham before they’d left. I clenched it in my fist, wondering if luck would be strong enough to bring them home.

  Celia rested both hands on my shoulders, her smile thin as she said, “Thank you.”

  I carried the drinks into the living ro
om, Cole barely bumping me and almost knocking the tray to the floor. Ezekiel, one of the newest Rogues, managed to catch the edge, helping me lower it onto the coffee table.

  I turned to Cole. “Jesus, what’s the matter?”

  He backpedaled, the look on his face drawing me to our makeshift spy headquarters that was once the dining room. A cold breeze slipped in between the gaps in the plywood and by Cole’s burned cheeks I could tell he’d been standing in it for a while.

  He looked down, lips slightly parted. No words came out.

  I snapped, trying to get him to focus. “Cole…what is it?”

  He looked up, misty-eyed. “I think something’s wrong.”

  “Did you have another nightmare?”

  “No.” He shook off whatever he was feeling, eyes drying in an instant. “I just…they’ve been gone too long, haven’t they?”

  “Adham and Felix?”

  He nodded, examining me. “You don’t feel anything?”

  I took a deep breath, acknowledging the pit in my stomach for the first time since they’d left. I’d been trying not to think about where they might be or what might be chasing them. It had been hard enough watching Felix be ripped apart by Bryn’s nightmares. I didn’t want to imagine whose nightmare was attacking him now.

  “I’m sorry,” Cole said. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

  I blinked, feeling the tears. “It’s okay. I’m worried too.”

  “I didn’t say I was—”

  I rolled my eyes. “Cole…”

  “Fine.” He looked away. “So I’m worried. But that doesn’t mean that I…” He stopped. “It just means that I’m human. And I’m not just worried about Adham. I’m worried about Felix too.” He paused. “Do you think…?”

  “What?”

  “Do you think you could find them?” He shrugged. “That’s what you can do now, right? Find things?”

  I was quiet, staring down at the stone Celia had folded into my hand and thinking about what it would be like to find Felix, to see him in danger and not be able to do anything about it. But what if they really were lost? And what if I was the only one who could reach them?