by Kristen Day
“I bet you could if they were trying to kill you,” Carmen speculated.
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to hear the ocean in conch shells?” Phoebe held the large shell up to her ear and listened intently. She gave up and handed it to Carmen; already moving on to the piece of rope.
“I think this stone is a hematite,” Willow told us from behind her laptop. She held up the stone and examined it further, “Yep, definitely hematite.”
Carmen got up and peeked over her shoulder at the screen, “Does it say what it’s used for?”
“It says that it absorbs negativity. Gives optimism and courage. Calms the emotions, and treats hysteria,” Willow read out loud.
“Hysteria?” Carmen nodded her head in consent, “I could see that being a strong possibility in an Underworld filled with evil queens and rivers of fire.” I fought the urge to heave.
“Oh and it helps maintain the balance between body, mind, and spirit!” Willow added. “I definitely think you should make sure you have this with you for the journey.”
“Okay…here’s the ‘taking’ pile,” I advised. Willow placed the black stone in the space I had designated, along with the dagger. I picked up the conch shell and eyed it closely for any sign that it may have a specific use.
“See if you can hear the ocean, Stasia,” Phoebe recommended. I held it up to my ear, and then almost threw it across the room. My shocked look immediately caught everyone’s attention.
“I heard…somebody’s…in there…” I spit out incredulously. Carmen snatched it from my hand and covered her ear with it.
“I don’t hear a thing,” she shrugged her shoulders and passed it to Willow, then Ian. No one else heard anything but silence. Ian handed it back to me as I stared at it; waiting for a troll to come crawling out. When it didn’t explode or sprout legs, I held my breath and put it to my ear again. Just as before, I heard it immediately. A…mumbling. The sound of someone talking, but it was as if someone had pocket dialed me and I could only hear a muted version of their conversation. I listened harder. There was only one voice; a male voice.
“I swear I hear somebody talking or mumbling something,” I interpreted, hoping that I didn’t sound too crazy. “And you guys didn’t hear anything at all?” They shook their heads and I stared at the shell for another moment before carefully setting it down on the table. If that shell was talking, I wanted it as far away from me as possible. Shells were not supposed to talk.
“What does it sound like?” Willow asked; poking the shell with her finger apprehensively.
“It sounds like a guy mumbling. Kind of reminds me of a pocket dial,” I offered my example. Carmen bolted upright, suddenly getting an idea.
“Maybe it’s a portal! But only a sound portal! It could even be a different realm or even a different time that you’re hearing,” she surmised thoughtfully.
“I guess it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of anything like that before,” Willow countered.
“And why am I the only one who can hear it?” I asked; not enjoying that particular aspect. I didn’t need even more reason to think I had a couple of screws loose.
“Maybe it’s linked to your family, somehow,” Willow speculated.
“I don’t think I’ll be taking that with me,” I muttered as I transferred it to my newly formed
‘NOT taking’ pile on the floor.
I was still perplexed and slightly disturbed by the shell, when my phone vibrated in my lap.
Finn was back at Rostrum. I didn’t want think about the fact that tonight would be the last time I’d see him until after his fight. Or possibly the last time I’d see him.
“Finn?” Phoebe asked gingerly. I nodded as I wrote him back to say I’d be over in a minute.
“Tell him we’ll be thinking about him.”
“I will,” I smiled at her; suppressing the agonizing desperation that crept into my bones at each moment’s passing.
* * *
“How will I know?”
“You won’t until afterwards.”
“I can’t live with that,” I pleaded. “Could I come to the fight if I’m back from the Underworld in time?” Finn was emptying the cabinets and refrigerator with more cans, boxes and containers than an entire army could eat.
“They won’t allow it, but it might be possible for Mom to talk to you. Text message?” he suggested, after smelling a jar of pickles to see if they were still edible.
“I don’t want to find out you’ve been killed by text message,” I frowned at him. “So who does get to go to the fight?”
“One family member can visit me during isolation, but all family and Sons are required to be in attendance for the fight. There will be a ceremony following - regardless of who succeeds.” He tapped his chin as he scanned an open cabinet.
“There are no exceptions?” I tried, alluding to myself.
“It’s a once-in-a-century event for the Sons. People come from all over the world and security has a huge presence.”
“Then they wouldn’t notice one more person,” I uttered with frustration as he handed me a bag of unopened Doritos.
“Another thing you have to be cognizant of is the time vacuum in the Underworld. An hour there could be three in this realm.” That could get tricky.
“Then I’ll wear a watch,” I declared stubbornly. “Where does the fight take place?” I thought about the stone amphitheatre and where something that old would be located.
“It’s on an island off the coast of Greece.”
“Greece!?” I shrieked. “That’s so far away! Even if I got back in time, I have no way of getting to Greece!”
“I want you to be there too, but while you’re in the Underworld you’ve got to stay focused on what you are doing. You can’t afford even a moment of weakness by worrying about me. I will be successful. I know I will.”
“But my vision-”
“Your vision wasn’t finished,” he said quietly as he took my hands in his. “As far back as records have been kept, only one Scion has ever failed to become Prime. You have nothing to worry about it.”
“Only one?”
“Only one.”
“Why did he fail?”
“That’s a story for another day,” he grinned at me. “At the moment that cherry cheesecake is calling my name.” He licked his lips and gestured at the wide array of various desserts, snacks, and drinks he had compiled on the bar; all of which were his favorites. My mouth began to water as I took it all in. Several choices were questionable, such as the Vienna sausages (I’m pretty sure no actual meat was used in the manufacturing of those) and pigs feet (anything with the word feet in the name will not get anywhere near my stomach), but I didn’t argue. This was his ‘last meal’ as he had called it, which only succeeded in bringing images of death row and electric chairs to the forefront of my mind. Not very comforting. I reached down to pick up a Little Debbie oatmeal crème pie, when Cage and Ricker came crashing through the door.
“Well, hey there, Patience!” Ricker affectionately threw an arm around me as Finn shook his head in annoyance.
“Pasha,” I corrected him.
“Okay, Pacemaker, whatever you say.” He popped a chocolate chip muffin in his mouth and smiled down at me with it smeared in his teeth.
“You got something in your teeth, Rigor-mortis,” I gave him a dose of his own medicine and he grinned up at Finn; food still in his teeth.
“I like her. She’s feisty.”
“How about you like her from across the room where you can’t spit crumbs all over her,” Finn smirked at him. I laughed when Ricker flipped him off and sat down on the couch across from Cage. ESPN fired up on the giant flat screen television.
“Where’s Ian?” Cage asked while flipping through the channels.
“He’s at my place,” I answered for Finn.
“That dude’s whipped,” Ricker criticized under his breath.
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” Cage shot at
him.
“Whatever, man. Carmen can’t hold this down,” Ricker announced with overly dramatic arrogance; getting a snicker out of Cage and Finn.
“I guess you won’t care that she’s going to the Halloween party with somebody else, then?” I threw out some bait.
“What?” He vaulted off the couch so quick, I almost missed it. “Are you serious? Who is it?
She could have at least told me…” I could see the jealousy fuming in his eyes and stifled a laugh.
“Calm down, Cujo,” I suppressed a laugh, “I was just kidding.”
His entire body relaxed and he cocked his head to the side; sizing me up. “Well played Passion, well played.”
“Pasha!” I laughed at him and threw a chocolate covered almond at his head.
“You better get your girl before I have to kick her ass,” he told Finn with a leer, but Finn just laughed.
“I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself. You wouldn’t last one round,” he retorted.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you got beat up by a girl,” Cage laughed from the couch.
Ricker threw up his arms; exasperated “Pamela doesn’t count as a girl! She’s 6’2, 230 lbs!
She could bench press my car.”
“Still counts,” Finn substantiated.
For the next hour, I listened to their random conversations and witty insults; just trying not to cry from laughing so hard. After the last doughnut had been eaten and the last beef jerky had been torn apart, Finn and I retreated to his bedroom to watch a movie and relax for a while.
A lone backpack was set up in the corner of his room awaiting his departure. Being that he would be kept in isolation for two days and then fighting to the death, I supposed clothes were not the top priority. I did notice that all four axes had been taken down from the wall; immediately shivering at what he intended to do with them.
Halfway through Super Troopers, I nodded off in the warmth and security of Finn’s arms. At one point I woke myself up twitching around. My right leg kicked out and connected with Finn’s calf, only making him snicker. I peeked out of one eye to see him smiling down at me and then snuggled deeper against his shoulder.
“Are you afraid?” I asked quietly; eyes still closed.
“No, not at all,” he answered confidently.
“I am,” I whispered; mind hazy, “Promise you’ll think of me?”
“Every second of every day,” I heard him promise, before slipping into the outstretched arms of sleep.
Chapter 25
The dead leaves woke me up. Scraping across my arms and legs, they trailed their ragged edges across my skin until it split and cracked open; searing my nerves with a relentless burning felt all the way to my soul. The smell of mildew and dead grass filled my senses as I opened my eyes. As soon as I began to move, the razor blade leaves blew away, leaving behind their painful destruction; the blood pooling and dripping to the cold ground beneath me. The air was crisp and the wind was still as I pushed up into a sitting position. A slight fog hovered above the ground, but the full moon above shone through. Stalking me in every direction were gravestones; tilted and weathered by the rough hands of time. They were not the marble masterpieces of this century however, they were thin slices of stone sticking up from the earth like rotten teeth; casting eerie shadows across the lifeless landscape. I slowly got to my feet, and checked the rest of my skin for any damage. When I looked up, a blood curdling scream resonated throughout the dark night. My scream. I clamped a hand over my mouth; instantly swallowing my voice and holding my breath. Eyes wide with terror, I glanced from grave to grave hoping that I wasn’t really seeing them. I squeezed my eyes shut in a futile attempt to make them disappear.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times I blinked, they were still there. Hovering above each gravesite lay the deceased owner. Completely stiff, hands crossed over their chests and eyes closed, they did not move. Their tattered clothes hung beneath their bodies; each showing varying degrees of transparency, as if some had been dead longer than others. Holding my breath and not daring to move an inch; I allowed my eyes to scan the cemetery, searching for an exit. Tall oak trees blocked my view of the perimeter, but I caught the glint of a gate to my right. It was far away, but I could make it.
I carefully inched forward; each footfall painstakingly loud as the leaves crunched and gave way beneath my weight. Another disturbing sound halted my steps altogether. It sounded like two rocks being rubbed together, grinding and moaning at the pressure of the movement. Gradually every grave owner turned its head in my direction; their sunken, dark eye sockets causing my stomach to lurch and heave. As a frightened whimper forced its way out, I carefully bent down; hoping to blend in with my surroundings. I had to think. I had to focus. The lightness I felt told me I was having a reverie. A reverie. I could control these. I knew how. I could get myself out of this. I thought about the sheets of Finn’s bed, the warmth of his arms and the feel of his chest rising and falling to his breaths. As several minutes passed and nothing happened, the panic became overwhelming. Why couldn’t I get out of this?
I opened my eyes and screamed again. Only this time I couldn’t stop. The numerous dead had escaped their hovering shackles and were now standing, instead. They blurred and shifted as they began to move in my direction; silent, stiff, and expressionless. I half ran, half stumbled down the stone path towards the gate I had seen. I could feel the grave owners reaching out to me, their bony fingers scraping across my arms and face as I passed. Tears of horror raced down my face as I peeked over my shoulder at the menacing corpses. When I looked back at the path, I ran right into a headstone, knocking it over and tumbling down on top of it. I tried to scramble back to my feet, but the ground beneath me opened up and everything went dark.
The dirt beneath me was damp and soft; soothing my cuts and cooling my face. As reality came crashing back, my eyes snapped open. Daggers of terror sliced through my heart as I realized what I had fallen into. It was a rectangular hole, walls made of earth and mud; the surface at least ten feet above any chance of escape. I whirled around, making sure I was the only thing in the hole, and then attempted to climb to the surface. The loose dirt gave way and I ended up back on the ground. I wiped my face and attempted the climb again, only ending in the same result. For at least an hour, I tried everything I could think of; to no avail. I was trapped in this God-forsaken grave.
“Hello? Can anybody hear me?” I yelled to the open air high above, “Somebody help me!”
I could feel the tears welling up inside my eyes as a crushing despair eclipsed my soul.
Claustrophobia gripped me next; churning the already frenzied panic inside me. I tried to climb again; knowing that I had no other options. Unfortunately when I looked up, my heart stopped. The grave owners were back. Surrounding the grave on all sides, their lifeless faces leered down at me.
“Help me!!” I screamed in desperation. I covered my face and knelt to my knees, overwhelmed by the hopelessness of my situation. I tried once more to escape the reverie. I thought of Finn’s soft bed, his loving arms, and the sound of his heartbeat against my ear. If he could just hear me. Maybe if I screamed loud enough my body would also scream.
“Finn!! Finn!!” I shouted his name over and over again. As exhaustion took over, I could only cry quietly and fold into myself, “Finn…please help me…”
Then I felt it. Evil. It pricked at my already bleeding skin, lashing out and encircling my body.
“Doesn’t look like our dark Prince Charming is coming to save you today,” she purred in mock sympathy and pouted, her eyes flashing. “How sad.”
I stood immediately, anger shooting through me. “Let me go, Nadia,” I demanded through my teeth.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” she laughed and glanced up at the grave owners with adoration. She eyed me, snapped her fingers once, and they all promptly disappeared. I instantly noticed a glaring change in her appearance. Her otherwise golden-brown eyes had turned a st
riking honey color; almost feline-like. They were piercing and haunting; drawing your attention and holding you captive. Her flowing brown hair now boasted streaks of the same honey color that glistened in the moonlight from above, and her skin shimmered with flecks of gold. She was…breathtaking. Her cream colored mini dress showed off her long legs and something else I had not seen before. Her trace. A jagged golden lightning bolt ran down the length of her calf; white vines twisting around it.
The multiple gold bangles on her wrist clinked against one another as she crossed her arms and stared at me; leaning against the mud wall of the grave.
“Besides, we have much to discuss,” she smirked at me.
“The only thing I want to discuss with you is why you won’t leave me the hell alone!” I snarled at her.
“Aww, Anastasia.” Her eyes flashed again as she smiled sweetly, “Such hostility! And here I am, simply trying to save you from humiliation!”
“Ditch the pretenses, Nadia,” I glared at her. “Stop wasting my time.”
“I’m only trying to tell you what our dark Prince Charming has failed to explain.” She tapped her gold watch and tsked, “He’s the one who’s been wasting your time.”
“My relationship is none of your business,” I spit at her.
“Wrong again,” she snapped back and began to step towards me. I stood taller, bracing myself for an attack. She pointed a manicured fingernail at me as she continued, “You think he loves you? You think you mean anything to him?”
“I know he loves me!” I lashed out at her, but she just chuckled.
“So innocent,” she shook her head at me, “So stupid. He doesn’t love you. He’s just using you.”
“Screw you,” I moved towards her, anger tearing through my veins.
“Tempting…but no thanks. You’re not my type,” she snickered at her own joke, and then turned serious, “On the Day of the Dead, his eighteenth birthday, he will become bound. And no one, not even you, can change that.”
